Passion to Protect (16 page)

And two beautiful kids would lose the only parent they knew, just as he’d lost his own mother so many years before.

Liane’s voice whispered in his memory, saying that the kids would have
him
.
That’s what I want. Remember.

“They’ll have both of us,” he promised, voice breaking. “Because I swear I’m going to bring you home alive.”

* * *

“Are you deliberately trying to piss me off?” Mac accused Liane. “I heard what you said, telling him my kids—my son—will have
him?
What the hell were you thinking?”

“I don’t know. I guess I
wasn’t
thinking,” she said as she continued driving, hating herself for backsliding into the same useless excuses she had once used to placate him. She’d faced down a forest fire, killed a desperate ex-con before he could kill
her,
but in the face of Mac’s threats she was as helpless as she’d been the night he’d left her to die.

“Don’t lie to me. You
were
thinking,” he said. “Thinking of one more way to screw me over. Now give me that damned phone so I can call him back.”

“What? You’re going to—”

“Now that we’ve put a little distance between him and us, it’s time to give him a chance to buy your freedom. So do you trust your lover, Liane? Do you trust that two-bit wrangler with your life?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You wouldn’t,” he said with a grunt of disgust. “I want the money your father stole from me, every last dime of it. And your cowboy’s going to bring it to me—if he ever wants to see you again.”

“And then you’ll let us go?”

Rather than answering, he asked, “What do you think, Liane? Will he bring the money, or will he sell you out?”

“He’ll come,” she said hollowly, realizing that her attempt to warn him with her phone call had been doomed from the start. Even after she had made the choice to leave him, to marry another man and bear his children, Jake had never given up on her. And now, regardless of the cost, he would keep fighting long after she surrendered.
Because that’s what real love does.

The thought of his strength, his selflessness and his passion to protect drove the weakness from her body. If Jake saw something in her worth risking—even sacrificing—his own life for, how could she sit there like a trembling, passive victim and let him walk straight into a situation that would surely get him killed?

“There’s no need to involve him,” she said. “We don’t need him to get the money.”

“Don’t lie to me to try to save him.”

“I’m not—”

“I
heard
you. The money’s in your father’s study.”

“That was Jake’s theory,” she argued. “But I’m telling you, he’s wrong.”

“Make a right here,” he ordered, pointing toward a rutted gravel track so overgrown that she had already zipped past before she spotted it.

Cursing her, Mac ordered, “Turn around right now, or I swear, this will go far worse than you ever imagined.”

Realizing that nothing she could say was going to make him listen, she sucked in a deep breath and mashed down the accelerator, her pulse jumping along with the accelerator needle.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he roared.

“You think I’m going to let you lure Jake to some dark, deserted spot and kill us both the moment he shows up?” she asked, her voice shaking with the effort of defying her worst nightmare. “You want to shoot me? Fine. Do it now and let’s end this together—if you’re willing to leave our kids without either of their parents.”

If he pulled the trigger, at least her death would count for something. Jake and her children would be safe from Mac’s insanity.

In an instant he grabbed her hair and brutally yanked her skull back against the headrest. Screaming at the sudden pain, she reflexively jerked the wheel and stamped on the brakes.

Tires squealing, they shot across the line into the other lane. At the same moment an oncoming RV emerged from around the upcoming bend. As Mac let go of her, a horn blared—far too close—and she saw the driver and his passenger’s rounded mouths and terrified eyes.

Instinct kicked in—she couldn’t cost an innocent couple their lives—and before she realized she was even steering clear, the brown-and-white RV was sliding past them. In her rearview she saw it straighten and disappear farther down the road.

Heart jackhammering against her rib cage, she was shaking so hard, she had no choice except to pull onto the shoulder.

The moment she came to a stop, Mac screamed at her, “You crazy bitch!”

Hearing the threat in his voice, she turned to look and saw his right fist flying toward her just in time for her to flinch away. More enraged than ever for having missed her, Mac leaned between the seats, shoving the gun up beneath her jaw.

“I’m not
asking
you a damned thing. I’m telling you. Turn the car around now and pull off the road where I said, or I swear to you, when your cowboy shows up, all he’ll get for his efforts is the shock of finding your brains spattered everywhere—before I kill him.”

Even worse than the threat of her own death was the idea of how devastated Jake would be to find her, and how destroyed her children would be by yet another brutal loss. Maybe she’d been wrong before, too quick to give up hope. Every minute she remained alive was another minute she might find some way to escape, or at least to convince him to leave the children and Jake out of this.

“Move!” Mac bellowed at her.

She forced herself to nod, the movement painful with the pistol’s muzzle grinding into her jawbone. When he pulled it back, she managed to say, “Just give me—let me breathe a minute.”

“You don’t have ten seconds,” he said. “Not if you don’t listen.”

Casting up a silent prayer, she checked for traffic and then made a U-turn. In moments she turned, and thick evergreen branches scraped along the Jeep’s sides as it wallowed downhill on the overgrown and deeply rutted trail.

“Over there, behind that boulder,” he said, pointing out a patch of shadow, where no one would ever see or hear them. Where he could leave her for the animals, just as he had left her father’s blood-soaked corpse.

Chills raced through her body as the memory flashed before her eyes.

“Go on, pull in,” he urged. “Then give me the keys and we’ll make that call.”

We,
he’d said, which meant he didn’t plan to kill her.
At least not until he uses me as bait.

Would there be a chance for her to speak on the phone, an opportunity to warn Jake that regardless of anything Mac promised, he planned to kill them both? She glanced up, meeting his gaze in the rearview mirror. In the cruel depths of his eyes she saw nothing but her death—hers and Jake’s both—and for all she knew, he would make good on his threat and go after the kids, too.

Once she’d pulled in and shut off the engine, he pointed the gun between the seat backs and held out his other hand. “The keys,” he reminded her. “Now.”

“I’m telling you,” she said. “Jake was wrong. The money’s never been at the house. It was in the—”

“You’re lying!”

When he drew back his arm to hit her, she reacted too fast for thought, flinging the keys as hard as she could, straight into his face. With an enraged shout, he deflected them, but the split second’s distraction was all she needed to jump out of the car and take off running.

She knew it was insanity. He was far bigger, far stronger—and armed. Thinking it would be harder to hit a zigzagging target, she raced around the boulder and threaded her way through tightly packed trees back toward the road, praying that her smaller size and greater agility would give her an advantage. If she could only survive these first few moments, she could lose herself, hide herself, and then flag down a motorist when she heard one coming.

But the thudding footsteps just behind her assured her she would never get the chance.

Chapter 17

S
lumped over in the front seat of his cruiser, Harry weakly pushed the deflated airbag away from his face. With the movement, pain poleaxed him, an explosion in his sternum that had him clutching at his chest.

Too much pain, he thought miserably, regretting not the things he’d done but only their unintended costs—costs that might now include the life of his best friend’s daughter.

Sitting in the seat beside him, Myrtle stroked his sweat-dampened hair with her spectral hand and offered him her saddest smile, a smile that told him that for all his attempts to shield her from his burdens, she understood his struggle.

But in those beautiful brown eyes he’d loved so long, he read a final request.
You have to stay strong, Harry...strong enough to do what’s right.

“I will, I swear it,” he said through gritted teeth, funneling every atom of stubbornness into reaching for the radio.

Fresh agony eclipsed his vision, and stars roared to the surface of the sudden darkness. An instant later they were spiraling together, forming a ball of blinding brilliance. With his eyes scrunched closed against the white light, it came to him that Myrtle wasn’t the only one urging him to fight.

In an echo of his nightmares, Deke Mason once again reached out his hand. Reached and then pointed straight at Harry—a terrible reminder of his guilt.

* * *

Sunlight gleamed off metal, and Jake’s stomach dropped when he spotted the car nose-down in a shallow culvert not far off the road. The lights were still flashing, though the siren had fallen silent, and there wasn’t a single other vehicle in sight.

The choice tore at him. Uncertain he was even driving in the right direction, did he delay his search for Liane, giving Mac an even greater lead? Or did he drive past a man he might be able to save, quite possibly leaving him to die?

Call in the location and keep going,
instinct urged him,
but at the last moment he pulled over, unable to drive past without seeing if Harry needed help.

Jake jumped down from his truck and firmly ordered Misty, “Stay.”

As he hurried toward the car, he shouted, “Harry? It’s Jake Whittaker. Are you in there?”

Hearing no answer and spotting no sign of movement, he scrambled down the low embankment, noting the slightly crumpled hood and the white steam that indicated a punctured radiator. Despite the damage, the wreck appeared survivable.

“Anyone there?” he called, pulling out his cell phone and dialing 9-1-1 again. Wading through weeds, he approached the front door as he gave the dispatcher his location.

“I have an ambulance and deputies en route—you should be hearing them any minute,” she said, clearly struggling to maintain her professional composure. “Is Sheriff Wallace all right? Is he alive?”

“Appears unconscious,” he said as he approached the window and spotted the deflated mass of an airbag and then Harry, slumped on his right side. Chalky pale and beaded with sweat, he had the slack expression of a man who was out cold—or dead. “Let me see what I can do and I’ll call you right back.” Pocketing the phone to free his hands, Jake struggled to open the driver’s door. When it stuck stubbornly, he made his way to the other side, praying he had reached the sheriff in time—and praying even harder that this delay wouldn’t cost Liane her life.

To his immense relief, the passenger door opened. Leaning inside, he reached carefully and laid his fingers against Harry’s throat. He felt a pulse, thank God, though it was thready and erratic.

“Harry, it’s Jake. Can you hear me?” he asked as he scanned the man for injuries. Seeing no blood or any obvious fractures, he tried shaking Harry’s shoulder, though he didn’t expect a response.

To his surprise, the sheriff grabbed his hand, his gray eyes shooting open. “You need to go see Myrtle,” he said weakly. “She’ll tell you where I... She’s a good woman, Jake. The best. But she never did like camping. Hardly used that fifth wheel parked out in the garage...”

Alarmed by Harry’s confusion, Jake hastened to assure him, “I know you loved her, Harry. Everyone knows how much—”

Grimacing, the sheriff shook his head. “When you see her, you tell her I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt any—anyone else. I only wanted more time....” His words faded into gibberish, his eyes growing unfocused.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Jake said, relieved beyond measure to hear the first faint strains of a siren.

“No.” Harry fought to raise his head. “Not for Liane. Not unless you find... You’ve gotta give it back. You’ve got to find it—for her.”

Jake tensed, wondering if there could be more to Harry’s ramblings than the delusions of a dying man. “Find what?”

“Investors never would’ve seen a dime anyway. Not after the lawyers...”

“The money,” Jake said, thinking of how haggard Harry had looked, how often he had spoken of his own responsibility in the wake of his friend’s death. Could there be something more going on than guilt over a misplaced fax and his failure to take Liane’s first phone call seriously? “You know exactly where Deke hid it, don’t you?”

As the siren drew nearer, the sheriff moaned and closed his eyes, pressing the heel of his hand against his chest.

“Please, Harry. For Liane’s sake. If Deke hid it in his study, tell me. That money might end up being the only thing that can save her life.”

“Not Deke. Never Deke,” Harry choked out. “He...turned it in...gave every dime to me.”

* * *

Pure adrenaline shooting through her system, Liane made it farther than she expected.

Ducking around another tree trunk, she shoved through some low branches. But with the flutter of leaves obscuring her sight, she missed her footing, stumbling over loose rock and gasping as she crashed to her knees.

Mac was on her in an instant, tackling her from behind and knocking her to the stony ground. She struggled to get away, but he struck again and again, a frenzied rain of blows that had her pleading and struggling. “Stop! Please!”

But by now he was beyond listening. When he grabbed her hair and yanked it, instinct made her fight him, her nails scoring bloody gouges just beneath his eyes.

“Bitch!” he shouted, and before she understood what was happening, his red face was in hers and his hands were squeezing her throat. Squeezing so hard she couldn’t scream, couldn’t fill her lungs, as he shook her like a terrier with a rodent in its jaws.

She fought to draw breath, to dig her nails into his hands—anything to loosen his grip. With her empty lungs screaming for oxygen, the trees grayed out before her and bright spangles of color burst across her vision.

“Why do you always have to push me?” he screamed, his voice distorted by the rushing river of her pain and panic. “Push, push, push, until you leave me no choice!”

As the gray haze turned to black and the roaring in her head grew louder, Liane wanted to scream that he had always, from the first, had choices. Choices he had used to steal, to strike, to blame everyone but himself. Choices he had used to kill her father, and to take her from her children and the man she’d loved forever, even if she hadn’t realized that until just now.

And in that moment, all the fear, the shame and self-blame she had lived with for so long crumbled. With her body failing, her heart reached for a memory of Jake and her children’s faces....

And her hand stretched out, until her fingers bumped something hard and wrapped around it.