Lone Defender (Love Inspired Suspense) Page 17
The thought made her smile, but it did nothing to quell her feeling of impending danger. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel, her gaze so focused on the empty road that the rattling sound and the serpentine hiss almost didn’t register.
When they did she froze, her hands fisted so tightly on the steering wheel that she thought she might break it.
Something was in the car with her.
Something that hissed.
And rattled.
Something she couldn’t see, but that could see her, or sense her, or whatever it was poisonous serpentine missiles did right before they struck.
Death by snake bite wasn’t on her top-one-hundred list of ways she’d like to die.
She eased the car to the side of the road, slowly, slowly, slowly pressing down on the brake and letting her foot rest there. Letting the car idle. Afraid to move. Afraid to breathe.
Rattle.
Hiss.
Slither.
It was under her seat.
Right.
Under.
Her.
Seat.
Move!
Don’t move!
The thoughts shouted through her mind, but neither sounded better than the other, and both seemed like terrible ideas.
Stay in the car with a rattler and get bitten?
Try to get out of the car and get bitten?
She’d faced down gang members and hopped-up junkies with guns. She’d faced down bullets and betrayal. She’d even faced down the Sonoran Desert, but she had never faced down a snake in an enclosed space.
Ever.
And she’d never wanted to. It was bad enough seeing rattlers out in the wild, but at least there she could give them a wide berth. Here, there was nowhere to go. She and the snake were face to face. Or face to foot.
High-heeled foot.
Why had she let vanity get the better of her?
Why-oh-why-oh-why had she worn the black pumps instead of her scuffed boots to church?
Think, woman! You’ve got to get out of the car. Figure out a way to do it!
Hiss.
Rattle.
Was the snake moving?
Had it just bumped her foot? Was that it, sliding over her shoe?
Her heart thrummed frantically, as fast as a rabbit’s.
A perfect meal for a hungry rattler.
I am not a rabbit. I am not a rabbit.
Hiss.
Slither.
She jerked her feet up, her knees banging into the dash as she scrambled for the door handle, poured herself out onto the pavement and slammed the door. Threw her back against it, breath heaving.
And realized her mistake.
The snake in the car wasn’t the only one she should have been worried about. Another stood a few feet away. No fangs or rattles, no hissed warning, but she knew what she was seeing. She knew death when she was facing it down, even when it came in human form.
“Everything okay, ma’am?” The voice was smooth and deep, nothing serpentine about it, but the eyes? Even darkness couldn’t hide their lifeless stare.
“If you can manage to pull a rattler out of my car, sure.” She kept her voice even, tried to pretend she didn’t recognize the white-blond hair and gaunt features. Tried to slide her hand into the pocket of her slacks and reach for her cell phone. Slowly. Slowly. The same way she’d stepped on the brake. Maybe if she moved slowly enough, she could stop this.
“Happens sometimes out in these parts. Especially this time of year. The weather is just warming up enough for rattlers to be out and about, but the temperature drops in the late afternoon, and they search for a warm place to sleep.” He took a step closer.
Hiss. Slither. Rattle.
“Don’t mind me. I’ll just wait a few feet away while you look. I hate snakes.” Especially human ones. She touched the key pad of her phone, tried to press 9-1-1 by feel. Hit Talk.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” He grabbed her wrist, the strike lightning fast, the blow knocking her hand out of her pocket and the phone to the ground.
“A phone, huh? Now, that wasn’t very nice, was it? My father said you were wily. I guess he was right.” He tossed the cell onto the roof of the car and dragged her toward his vehicle.
My father?
She didn’t have time to think on it. Had to act. No way could she get in the car with a murderer. She slammed her heel into his instep, suddenly glad for her vanity.
He howled, backhanding her so hard she fell, stars dancing in front of her eyes.
Get up, Skylar. You stay too long in one place and you’ll die there.
Tessa’s voice. Her own. Jonas’s. All of them shouting for her to go.
She stumbled to her feet, elbowed her attacker as he wrapped strong arms around her waist, dragging her to his car. She shoved backward, using her weight and his momentum to slam him into the door.
He shouted an obscenity, punching her in the side of the head.
Darkness.
She fought it, refusing it as she had when she’d been lying with three bullet holes in her body, blood pooling beneath her. Fought it because darkness meant death, and she wasn’t going to die. Fought it because she’d come to Arizona looking for Redmond, and she’d found something better.
Someone better.
She shoved her arms under her attacker’s, forcing his grip to loosen. Tried to run, but he grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her back, pulling open the passenger-side door of his car. “Get in!”
Hiss!
He shoved her so hard she tumbled face-first into the seat. Her head hit the console, darkness rising up again.
Rattle!
Legs being shoved into place.
Blackness edging closer.
Reality slipping away.
The coiled serpent rearing back.
The door slamming, closing her in.
Strike!
NINETEEN
“Sit up. I can’t drive with you in my seat.”
Hard hands shoved Skylar upright, the movement, the pain forcing her from inky blackness.
She groaned, wiping blood from her mouth, trying to focus.
A car.
A man.
No. Not a man. The blond snake whose father had talked about Skylar.
His father.
Who? If she could figure that out, she might gain an advantage. In her situation, an advantage was imperative to survival.
And she was going to survive.
Please, God, let me survive.
She couldn’t give the blond and his father the satisfaction of burying her body in a shallow grave somewhere.
Or a not-so-shallow one, like Redmond’s.
Or no grave at all, like Stanley’s.
She couldn’t leave Jonas wondering what had happened, wondering if he could have saved her.
Couldn’t leave Jonas.
Couldn’t.
Stop!
Thoughts of cement slabs and brutal deaths and Jonas weren’t going to save her. Panic wouldn’t help her.
She needed to think. Needed to focus.
“Where are you taking me?”
“I guess it doesn’t matter if I tell you. We’re going to the compound.” He turned dead eyes to her, and Skylar shuddered.
She’d seen eyes like those before in the faces of drug addicts and sociopaths. Empty eyes. Snake eyes. Killer eyes.
He’d as much as admitted it. It didn’t matter if she knew where they were going, because he didn’t intend to give her the opportunity to tell anyone else.
Keep your cool. Find a way out.
“You mean the New Day compound?”
“That’s right. I have a couple friends that want to talk to you.”
“About?”
“All the trouble you’ve caused.”
“All I did was come to town looking for Daniel Redmond. If that caused anyone trouble, I’m sorry.”
“Too late. Daniel was a no good, greedy son of a gun, and he deserved wha
t he got. If he hadn’t tried to get more than what we had agreed to, he’d still be alive. And so would you.”
“I’m not dead, yet.”
“You’re dead. You just haven’t realized it.” There was no emotion in his voice, and Skylar shivered.
“He was helping you collect antiquities and sell them on the black market, wasn’t he?”
“You’ve been digging for more than Redmond.”
“I’m not the only one. The sheriff—”
He snorted, cutting off her words.
Rodger Smithson?
His father.
“You’re Smithson’s son, aren’t you?”
“That’s ‘sheriff’ to you. And to me. The old man has never been fond of being called anything else, seeing as how the job is everything to him, and he’ll do anything to protect it.”
“Even cover for you?”
“You think that’s all he’s doing? Then you’re not as smart as he said.”
“I think he’s been using his position to make sure members of your organization stay out of jail. I think he has a vested interest in what you’re doing—”
“World take over, baby! Starting with these good old United States, and ending when we own it all. Every last stretch of sand on every last beach. Every mountaintop retreat. Everything.” The manic words spewed out, spittle flying onto the dashboard.
Crazy.
The word hovered on the tip of Skylar’s tongue.
Don’t say it.
Do not tell the man he’s nuts.
“It takes an awful lot of money and power to overthrow the world.”
“We won’t lack power when the new messiah comes.”
“You’re stealing artifacts to finance His coming?”
“To finance dear old Dad’s campaign. As long as he’s sheriff, we can run things the way we want. Someone else comes nosing around, things might not be so easy for us.”
“So you hired Redmond to help, and he got greedy so you killed him. What about Josiah Stanley?”
“He got soft. Didn’t like the idea of killing a woman. He missed you purposely, you know that? Had you in his sights and changed his mind about taking the money we were going to pay him. You were that close to death.” He held his thumb and index finger so close they were nearly touching. “Told me that himself before he walked off and left the group. Kinda funny when you think about it. He wouldn’t kill you, but you sure as shootin’ didn’t mind pulling the trigger on him. After all, it was you who came digging around. You who wouldn’t leave well enough alone. Got all Dad’s deputies and half the town fired up about knowing what happened to Redmond. No one cared before. No one would have cared ever if you hadn’t showed up. You should have died out in the desert. The Redmond thing would have died with you.”
“Sorry to inconvenience you.”
“I don’t like smart mouths.” Dead eyes. Dead tone. A horror-movie villain in the flesh. She swallowed down the fear that threatened to freeze her tongue.
Keep him talking. Keep him engaged. Buy yourself more time.
“I don’t like people who try to kill me.”
“If I’d tried to kill you, you’d be dead. I didn’t care about your investigation, didn’t care if you found Redmond’s body. The old man, he’s a different story. He has a lot at stake, and he doesn’t want to lose one bit of it. Couldn’t cover up a murder, that’s what he said. Not like he’d covered up other things. He talked to the Clovis boys, came up with a plan to take you into the desert and make it look like you got lost and died there. Didn’t work out so well, though. Can’t say I’m sorry. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Anyone who gets the old man in a tizzy is worth getting to know.” He met her gaze again and grinned, his dead eyes flicking with wild life before they went cold again.
“We could stop for some coffee. Maybe get something to eat. I’d like to hear about New Day.” She tried a different tactic, her eyes jumping to the side mirror.
The road wasn’t usually busy at this time of evening, but there hadn’t been another vehicle on it since they’d left her borrowed car. Her heart leaped with the knowledge.
Jonas.
Had he found her abandoned vehicle. Had he informed the police?
Please, God, let it be true.
“We’ll get to know each other plenty when we get to the compound, but it won’t be over coffee. Now shut up. Something doesn’t feel right, and your chattering is distracting me from figuring out what it is.”
Exactly what she wanted.
Especially with the silent road shouting its warning.
A blockade had been set up. Rescue would follow. She just had to stay alive long enough for it to reach her.
“When the new messiah—”
“I. Said. Shut. Up.” A gun barrel pressed to her temple, and she froze like she had when the rattler had slithered beneath her seat.
Silence.
But she could almost hear the serpent’s quiet rustling.
Darkness.
But she was sure eyes were watching.
Tension built, wave upon wave, and sweat trickled from her temple, her body stiff with fear and with the need to stay alive.
“Too quiet,” the gunman muttered, lowering his weapon, stepping on the gas.
The car jerked forward. Lights pierced the darkness behind them. Not a cop car. A truck. Speeding after them, and she knew it was Jonas. Wanted to shout for him to go back as much as she wanted to scream for him to hurry.
Lights on the other side of the median, bouncing toward them. Blue and white. One, two, three cruisers.
Everything blurring as the car picked up speed.
Do you have your seat belt on? Jonas’s voice in her ear, and her hands reaching, snapping the belt into place. Touching the arrowhead he’d given her. Praying, praying, praying that she’d see him again.
And then they were flying, spinning.
Gold and green and white and blue, everything bleeding together. Pain and darkness. Light and a sudden silence that filled Skylar’s ears, filled her lungs until she thought she’d drown in it.
Move!
The warning screamed through her mind, and she grabbed the door handle, her fingers clumsy, her hands shaking. Smoke billowed from the hood of the car, the acrid scent of gasoline burning her nose, gagging her.
No air.
Just heat.
Scorching heat.
“Dear God, please. Help me!” She clawed at the door handle, her fingernails breaking.
The door flew open. Hard arms pulled her out. Lifted her up. Jonas. Running, his heart thudding under her ears.
And the night exploded.
Flying again.
Silence again. Pain.
Something heavy stealing her breath.
She moaned, shoving at the weight.
“Shhhhh. You’re okay.” Jonas’s words carried through the haze of pain and confusion, and Skylar opened her eyes, looked into his face. His cheek was bleeding again, black hair falling over his forehead, straight and silky, his face chiseled and strong.
He looked like he had the night they’d met—like an ancient warrior come to life.
Her ancient warrior, and the stupid tears that always came when she was weakest, poured out.
“Don’t cry, Grady.”
“I’m not.”
“Then, what are these?” He brushed away moisture, his hand lingering.
“My eyes are watering, because you’re crushing the life out of me.”
“That’s the Grady I’ve come to love.” He smiled, shifted.
“Love?”
“Why not?” He ran his hands up her arms and legs. “Anything hurt?”
“Only my pride for allowing myself to be lured out of my car.” And about a million bumps and bruises and maybe a broken leg.
But her heart?
Her heart felt just fine.
“We found the snake. Animal control is getting it out. The way they tell it, the thing is a six foot—”
Fire shot into the sky from crushed metal, etching the scene in startling clarity.
“Did Smithson get out?”
“The sheriff—”
“The sheriff is here?” She struggled to her feet, brushing away Jonas’s hands.
“He helped set up the blockade, and he pulled the perp out of the car. It didn’t look like the guy made it.”
“The perp is his son. All this,” she said waving frantically, “the sheriff is responsible. We need to find him. Stop him.”
“You two okay?” Chief Deputy Mitchell ran toward them.
“Come on. We need to tell him what you know.” Jonas grabbed her hand, pulled her forward, but the sheriff appeared, stepping past the burning rubble, gun drawn.
There was no time for anything. Just the quick thought that Jonas was the target.
Life for life?
Love for love?
Jonas shouted a warning, and the deputy turned, pulled his weapon too late.
Skylar shoved Jonas hard, felt the impact of the bullet shatter her collarbone, felt it tear through flesh and muscle and organ.
Felt it all again.
The darkness and the dying.
Only this time, it was Jonas’s hands pressed against the wound, his eyes staring into hers, desperately trying to hold her to the world. His tears dripping onto her face, mixing with her tears, because, maybe, she’d been selfish.
And, maybe, the only man who’d ever filled her heart, she was going to leave empty. Maybe she was going to leave the one person who truly cared with nothing but what he’d had before they’d met.
Guilt.
Loss.
Dying shouldn’t be so difficult.
But it was.
TWENTY
“How is she?” Chief Deputy Mitchell crossed the waiting room in three long strides. Eyes shadowed, deep lines carved around his mouth, he looked like he’d aged a decade in the past few hours.
Jonas felt like he’d aged double that.
His bones ached from tension and fear and too many minutes spent frozen by the weight of what had happened.
Blood dripping.
Gabriella’s blood.