by Julie Miller
After calling Maxie from her lookout post at the back door, Ava put a harness with saddlebags on the dog and packed some water and energy bars along with dog treats in the pockets. “Are you a skilled tracker?”
“I don’t know.”
Once Ava released her, Maxie bounded to the front door, dancing in anticipation of their outing. “Fortunately, the Queen Mother of the Dragons here is.”
The amused smile that matched hers for a moment faded into his beard. “Ava, would you still feel safe with me if I carried my own gun again? With bullets this time? You can say no. I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”
She considered his request for a moment, then opened the door to the garage and unlocked the climate-controlled storage closet where she kept the gun safe. “I’m less afraid of you having a gun than I am of being blindfolded or locked in a dark room, deprived of my senses. That’s probably why that message made me go ballistic and shut down this morning. I didn’t see the threat coming. I was blindsided.”
“And a few minutes ago? I was pressing too hard, wasn’t I. I triggered a flashback with one of my questions.”
“We were talking about why I was kidnapped. The hooded man didn’t kidnap A. L. Baines. All he needed was a victim. Someone weaker than him who he could control for a few days. Someone who’d be too afraid to fight back.” He held the door while she typed in the security code on the safe’s electronic lock. “He picked me.”
“You did what you had to do to survive. You played his game. You got out of there alive. Detective Charles said not every victim has been so lucky.” She opened the heavy steel door and pulled his Hellcat, holster and magazine of bullets from the pockets in the door where she’d secured them while he’d slept last night. “You were smart. Resourceful. You endured. That shows a hell of a lot of strength, not weakness, if you ask me.”
“You do give the weirdest compliments. But they have meaning for me. Thank you.”
“I don’t waste time on words I don’t...mean.” At his hesitation, she turned to see him looking past her to the display of weaponry she stored inside. He let out a low whistle between his teeth. “You know how to use all these?”
She pointed out the small armory while he knelt to strap on his ankle holster. “That’s Grandpa’s hunting rifle. His service pistol from Vietnam. Part of gun safety around here was knowing how to use and clean the weapon, how to safely store it and respecting that it was created to kill, not be played with.” She pulled out the decorated leather-and-metal sheath hanging behind the Winchester rifle. “This sword is a gift from my publisher. I’ve used it to research sword fighting, but don’t display it for obvious reasons.”
“Because of fans like me who might recognize it.” He reverently pulled the blade from its sheath and held it up to study the inscription. “This is a reproduction of Larkin’s Bane-Slayer. And you use the bow and arrows to research Willow’s character?”
He returned the sword to its sheath, and she hung it back in its place. “Grandpa taught me to hunt with a bow and arrow. I competed in some archery competitions in the summers here. It’s what I know best, so that’s why it’s Willow’s weapon of choice.” She pulled her own small Glock from another pocket and loosened her belt to strap the gun onto her waist. “I learned to use this and the shotgun after my kidnapping.”
Not that either would have saved her from the blitz attack that had rendered her helpless. But the hooded man might have thought twice about singling her out for his sick game if he’d seen the weapons. She felt more confident about defending herself now than she had two years ago, not only with the guns, but with the self-defense classes she’d started as soon as she was physically able after her recovery.
“You could give a guy a complex if he saw how well-armed you are.”
She watched him check, load and secure his weapon with a second nature she envied. “Does it bother you?”
“It bothers me that you feel you need an arsenal like this. I wish the man who hurt you could see all this. I wish he could see how much you’ve done to help me. How brave you are to face the things that frighten you, and you still come back fighting. He’d think twice about coming after you now.” Again, the unusual compliment rang like truth inside her and warmed her from the inside out. He stepped back as she closed and reset the lock on the gun safe, then relocked the storage closet door. “But am I afraid of you and all those weapons? No. Willow isn’t just the woman Larkin loves. He values her as a comrade in arms. He’s not intimidated by her abilities or the crown she’s supposed to wear.” He held the door back into the kitchen open for her. “Trust me, I get Larkin.”
Ava smiled shyly as she moved past him. Larkin loved Willow in her books. He valued her as a friend, companion and would-be lover. But how did this Larkin feel about Ava Wallace? Why did it feel like the lines between fiction and reality were blurring? Like the relationship she’d written on the pages had come to life and already felt deep and familiar?
Why wasn’t she more worried about how much of herself she had shared with this man she’d met only yesterday? Did he really understand her in a way that no man ever had? Was she falling in love with the hero from her books? Or was she foolishly setting herself up for a disaster that could break her heart, if not cost her her life?
Too many questions with no good answers. She was beginning to understand the uncertainty and frustration Larkin must be going through with his memory gaps. She needed to get outside and get out of her head. Ava reached for Maxie’s leash. “Are you ready to head out?”
“Lead the way.”
Chapter Nine
Larkin’s quest to retrace his path ended at the base of a forty-foot embankment. Ultimately, he did need Maxie’s tracking skills and Ava’s familiarity with the area to follow the path he’d left through the woods. In some places, dusty footprints, snapped twigs and swaths of dirt through a carpet of pine needles indicated where he must have rolled or dragged his feet, cutting an erratic path from these rocks to the gravel drive leading to her cabin. But there were other places where it looked like he’d been cognizant enough to erase his footprints and make false trails, sure signs that he’d been in survival mode against the enemy who wanted him dead. Only, as they reached the natural stair steps of craggy granite ledges and skinny trees with exposed roots leading up to a metal guardrail at the very top, he saw almost no evidence of anyone pursuing him.
Why hadn’t they chased him through the woods? Had they assumed he was dead? If the man responsible for putting a bullet through his head believed he’d succeeded, or lied to his superiors about completing the job, then why was Roy Hauser in town looking for him? If Larkin was in charge of a task force to take down an enemy, he wouldn’t have assumed anything. He’d want the body as proof that the threat had been neutralized—either as his prisoner or in a morgue. And when Ava had driven him to the hospital, it had become evident to someone that he wasn’t dead.
Was someone at the hospital in his enemy’s pocket? When he’d shown up in the ER at Pole Axe’s clinic, had someone called the would-be killer and informed him he had survived the attempt on his life? He still questioned the drugs Dr. Russell had given him. Unless the nurse had incorrectly dosed him. Or had his injuries simply been so severe that he was lucky he’d made it to Ava’s place before he’d gone down for the count and slept the grogginess out of his system? Logic told him there was more than one player involved in the threats against him. Once he’d disappeared from the clinic, the hunt for Larkin Bonecrusher—or someone the enemy knew as Luke—had begun anew.
Did they have other means of tracking him? He swung his gaze to the brunette who was having an animated conversation with her big white dog, who was eating up the attention. Ava was every bit the intriguing woman warrior Willow Storm was. Only, fiction couldn’t match the warmth, humor and vulnerability of the real thing. Man, he had a bad case of wanting something he probably shouldn’t. But there
was no denying his physical and emotional response to all things Ava Wallace. There was also no denying the guilt he felt at thrusting her into the middle of all this, despite her claims that challenging her to get involved was therapeutic for her.
He watched her pour water into a collapsible bowl for Maxie to lap up to help the panting dog cool down. After losing the trail a couple of times and doubling back, they’d been hiking at a relatively steady pace for almost two hours, covering several miles through steep terrain and a thick forest. Although he sensed that Ava had slowed her pace for his benefit, he’d been able to keep up, despite the battering his body had taken the day before and his limping stride. He wasn’t too proud, though, to give his bum leg and aching shoulder a break and do a few stretches to ease the kinks before finding a relatively flat rock at the base of the cliff to sit on.
He tipped his head up. “Is that where we’re headed next?”
When they heard the whoosh of a car passing by on the road above them, Ava confirmed what Larkin already suspected. “That’s the highway that circles around the mountain. We were on it last night when we stopped at the scenic overlook. Several miles closer to town than we are now. Do you think this is where you rolled off the edge of the cliff?”
Larkin’s gaze settled on a suspiciously dark spot on the rock beside him and he felt his stomach clench with a remembered desperation. He knelt to measure the size of the mark, confirming that the remnants of the bloody handprint matched his own. “Yeah. This is where Option B happened.”
When he pushed to his feet, the rocks and trees swayed in front of him. Then he felt a gentle hand at his elbow. Ava guided him back to the rock and put a bottle of water into his hand. “Sit. You’re looking a little pale.”
He didn’t think it was the altitude or the exertion so much as the jumble of memories flashing through his brain with the fuzzy definition of seeing oncoming headlights through the rain at night. “They disabled my car.”
“A black SUV?” Ava opened her own water bottle and sat beside him to take a few drinks. She didn’t push him to remember everything, yet her questions seemed to help draw out pertinent information.
“Yeah. Company car.” He downed nearly half his water in one swallow as he relived the dizzying sensation of whipping around a hairpin turn while his SUV continued to pick up speed. “No brakes. Why didn’t I check the status of the vehicle? That’s a routine security check.”
“You were in a hurry to get away. Maybe there wasn’t time,” she suggested.
“Or someone I trusted told me it was okay to go.”
“Not having any brakes explains why you reacted so strongly when I took a curve too fast driving into town.”
He nodded as the empty places inside his head tried to tell him what he’d forgotten. “They were driving the same make of vehicle. When that black SUV passed us yesterday—”
“You ducked.” She watched him take another drink before asking, “Who are they?”
“The security team I work for,” he answered automatically. He nearly spit out his water when he realized what he’d remembered. “My own people were chasing me.”
“Roy Hauser was driving a black SUV this morning.”
“The guy who was looking for me?”
She nodded. “That must be who you work for. BDS.” She glanced up along the rocks before facing him again. “I have a friend who told me BDS uses the Ridgerunner Lodge at the top of the mountain for guests. You said you woke up in a hotel room and went to work. Is there a way to find out if Bell Design had something going on at the lodge this week? If you were there?”
Several pieces of the puzzle were floating around in his head, but they weren’t yet falling into place. “Why would BDS be after me if I’m part of their team?”
“Maybe they’re trying to help you. Mr. Hauser said he was worried about you.”
Put a bullet in his head and make this all go away.
Larkin rose to his feet and studied the precipice above them. “They’re the ones trying to kill me.” He moved toward the rock face. “It all happened up there. The attempt on my life... Whatever happened before that is why they tried to kill me.” He flattened his hand briefly against his belly and the miniature data stick making its way through his system. That had happened before losing control of his SUV and Option B. He set down the bottle of water and gripped the nearest outcropping of rock. “I need to get up there. If that’s the crime scene, something’s bound to jog my memory.”
Ava’s fingers wound around his forearm, pulling him back. “You can’t make that climb. Not with your shoulder and knee. If one of them gives out, you could fall. Besides, if somebody drives past while you’re up there, you’d be a sitting duck. If the wrong person sees you, they’ll report you to Sheriff Stout or to BDS.”
“I don’t want you taking that risk.”
She was already shrugging out of her backpack and unbuttoning her blouse. “I’ve climbed rocks before. Steeper than this.”
“Without rappelling gear or a helmet? Ava...” She peeled off the long-sleeved shirt and revealed the fitted white tank top she wore underneath. He was at once stunned to see the pale lines of old scars striping her upper arms like hash marks and awed to see the revelation of her true shape. Those baggy clothes disguised a lot of lean, beautiful curves. Ava was athletic and slim, but unmistakably female. He shook off both the flare of anger at seeing she’d been tortured like that, and the smack of desire that flooded the territory behind his zipper with unmistakable interest.
“Talk to me, Bonecrusher. What am I looking for when I get up there?” Hell. She was already on the first ledge, studying the outcropping above her, looking for her next handhold.
She needed him to stop gawking and think like an MP. Like an investigator. She needed him to be her comrade in arms and help her, since she was the one on the front line of this sortie. “Look for anything that seems out of place. Debris from a car accident. Tire tracks or footprints. Anything that doesn’t seem natural to the scene.”
She pushed herself up to the next ledge, tested the solidness of a tree root and used it to pull herself up above the level of his head. “There’s blood on the rocks here, too.” She glanced down at him with a grim expression. “There’s a gouge in the bark, as well. Long and narrow, about the size of my finger.”
“A bullet strike?”
“That’d be my guess.” She pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and snapped a few pictures. She was halfway to the road when she knelt on a wider ledge. “Oh my gosh. How many times did they shoot at you?” Ava held out a casing for him to see. “There are two more up here. We need to get the bullet Dr. Russell took out of your shoulder and compare the caliber. Prove that they all came from the same gun.”
“I wasn’t counting. And hug the damn rocks.” He warned her back from the edge. A fall from this distance wouldn’t be fatal, but she could break a bone if she hit something the wrong way. And if he couldn’t make that climb, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to catch her and break her fall, or get her to the help she might need, either. “Pay attention to your climb. We can talk clues once you’re safely back down here.”
“Roger that.” She took more pictures before tucking the phone and casing into the pockets of her jeans and climbing another few feet to the next outcropping. The rocks were eroded in such a way that there were plenty of places to step onto or grab hold of. But for a man who’d been in free fall, those same protrusions had been blunt objects that had bruised ribs and split skin and pounded his body with an unforgiving assault. He wondered if the ache in his shoulder had more to do with the memories of the pain he’d endured that were trying to surface, or with his fear that Ava would grab the wrong tree or lose her footing and suffer a similar fate.
“Be careful,” he called to her as she reached the top. He squeezed his eyes shut at the vivid recollection of rolling off the edge of the
road into oblivion. But he opened them again just as quickly. He wasn’t sure what he’d do from this distance if she fell, but he wanted to be ready to do something. He hated that she was the one putting herself at risk for him. “Watch for traffic, too. Make sure you’re safe.”
“I’m good.” She grabbed hold of the guardrail and swung her legs over the top. He heard her boots crunch against the gravel, then fall silent as she reached the asphalt.
He wished he could see more than the top of her head and the swish of that long ponytail as she whipped her head from side to side to inspect her surroundings. “What do you see?” he demanded.
Ava leaned back to shout down the mountain. “The cleanest stretch of highway ever.”
“What do you mean?”
She turned and leaned over the guardrail so that she didn’t have to shout. “Seriously. It’s like a road crew has been through here and picked up every scrap of trash and swept the road.”
“No skid marks?”
“No.” He supposed that made sense. If his brake lines had been cut, there wouldn’t be any signs of a sudden stop. “Wait a minute.”
“Ava?” When she disappeared from sight, Larkin’s stomach clenched with worry. At least two vehicles drove past while she was out of his sight. Hopefully, there was a place to conceal herself up there, and she’d hidden herself from view. When several minutes passed without seeing her again, he damned the pain in his leg and shoulder and climbed onto the first ledge.
“What are you doing?” She reappeared at the top of the cliff and waved him back to the relatively flat slope at the base of the cliff. “I’m on my way down.”
He watched her shimmy down the rocks with the confidence of a mountain goat. And though she never uttered one ouch, or showed any sign of distress, Larkin couldn’t wait for her to be safely on level ground beside him again. When her boots hit the bottom ledge, he reached up to grab her by either side of her waist and lifted her down the last few feet. With her bottom tucked against the vee of his thighs and hips, he pulled her right up against his chest. He circled one arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist, and buried his nose in the fresh, herbal scent of her hair. He treasured the feel of her pressed against him and breathed her in—one, two, three.
