by Lisa Jackson
“Don’t tell me. You’ve decided to take a crash course in auto mechanics,” Zane guessed, his voice so soft she barely heard him. But Franklin, lurking in the shadows, barked loudly.
She froze, dropping the wires as if they were indeed hot.
Feeling like a fool, she tilted her head so that she could see him, and took the offensive. “I think I’ve already mentioned your vile habit of sneaking up on people.” She pinned the dog with her glare. “The same goes for you.”
Franklin wagged his tail, proud of himself, and Zane threw back his head and laughed. “And you, Ms. Melville, have a vile habit of trying to run away.” He eyed the interior of the Jeep, and his mouth quirked. “So you were trying to start the Jeep without the aid of a key. Well, don’t let me stop you.” Gesturing grandly to the dash, he swallowed an amused smile. “Go right ahead.”
“And have you stop me the minute the engine turns over?”
“A risk you’ll have to take.”
Her temper started to soar. What she wouldn’t do to start this damned Jeep and take off, leaving him in a spray of gravel.
Zane leaned his hip against the fender. “And of course, you could shock yourself while you’re at it.”
“I realize that!” Sitting upright, she slid out of the car. “If you’re done belittling me—”
“And if you’re done with this teenaged prank.”
She shot him a withering glance. “Prank? After the stunt you pulled by kidnap—”
He held up a palm, and she clamped her mouth shut, determined not to break their fragile truce.
“I thought we’d gotten beyond that,” he said, his brows beetling.
“I—we—I thought we had to,” she said, knowing he didn’t believe her. “But the opportunity to leave just presented itself. You can’t blame me for—” She bit her tongue.
He grabbed her by the arm and propelled her toward the house. “Oh, no? Then who should I blame?”
“Yourself! For hauling me up here in the first place. It’s been three days, Zane! Three days of being away from the real world!”
“And it’s been great, hasn’t it?” he said, pressing his face close to hers.
“Just spiffy,” she shot back, not letting him know for even a second that he was right, that being here with him was a little touch of heaven.
He picked up her discarded basket and glanced up at the sky. “I’ll go get the firewood. It’s safer. You’d better go inside. It’s gonna rain soon.” Swinging the damned basket, he strode to the woodpile with Franklin trotting after him.
Later, once the fire was burning in yellow and orange flames, Zane left the room for a few minutes. When he returned, he was carrying a small tape player, a bottle of wine and two glasses.
“Okay, it’s time to get serious,” he said, uncorking the wine and pouring them each a glass.
“About what?”
“This.” He punched a button, and the tape of his phone call with Ted started playing.
Kaylie couldn’t take a sip.
“Does this sound like anyone you know, anyone you’ve ever met?”
“I—I don’t think so,” Kaylie replied, her skin crawling at the sound of the raspy warning.
“Think, Kaylie! This is important.” Zane rewound the tape and played it again and again until Kaylie could repeat the conversation word for word.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, biting her lower lip.
Zane snapped the recorder off and plowed angry fingers through his hair. “Obviously Ted knows you and your connection with me. He also knows all about Whispering Hills and Lee Johnston. And he knows that you and I are together.”
“He does?” she cried. “How?”
“You weren’t on the show, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that you were with me. However, the fact that Ted’s quit calling makes me think he’s got a line on us.”
Kaylie’s fingers slipped on her glass. She spilled wine on her pants, but quickly mopped it up. “A line—”
“Well, maybe that’s a little drastic. Maybe he would’ve quit calling anyway. He only called a couple of times. But it’s a coincidence and I don’t believe in coincidence.”
“So, what—what does that mean?” she asked, not feeling safer knowing that some other nut case might guess where they were.
“It means we stay put until Hastings gets some more information.”
“Don’t you think this Ted, if he’s so smart, might find us?”
Zane frowned into his wine, swirling the glass thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. Only a few people know I own this place.”
“But he could find out.” Fear strangled her. “Do you think Ted is Johnston?” she asked, her thoughts racing ahead wildly. “And that he placed the call to you, knowing that you would drag me up here?”
Zane shook his head, but his expression remained grim. “I doubt it. You were too visible in San Francisco. He could find you more easily. If he’s going to be released, he wouldn’t want to tip you off.” His gaze moved from his glass to search her face. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”
Surprisingly, that thought was comforting.
“But it would help me a lot, if we could figure out who Ted really is.”
He played the tape again, and a headache began to pound at Kaylie’s temples. She finished her wine and, before she began feeling too cozy and safe with Zane, set her glass on the coffee table. “I think I’ll turn in.”
She started to stand, but Zane placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. “Just remember one thing,” he said, his voice firm.
“What’s that?”
“If you try to escape again, I’ll have to make sure that it doesn’t happen. And that means I’ll stick to you like glue.”
Shrugging off his hand, she couldn’t help but rise to the bait. “You’ll have to catch me first.”
“I know.” One side of his mouth lifted, and his eyes glowed in the firelight.
She knew then that she loved him with all of her foolish heart. And if she didn’t leave him soon, she never would be able to. She would have to give up her freedom and independence for the sake of love.
She hurried upstairs to her room. “Oh, Zane,” she whispered, her throat aching. She had no choice but to escape—for both their sakes.
* * *
Zane drained his glass and wondered how long he could keep up this charade. Soon he would have to go back to the city and he couldn’t, even in his wildest fantasies, keep her locked away forever. Tomorrow morning she’d miss another taping of her program and sooner or later the producer would start checking. Margot wouldn’t be able to keep Crowley at bay forever.
And he couldn’t force Kaylie to love him.
That thought tore open old wounds. He’d lost her once, and the surest way to lose her again was to keep imposing his will on her.
Absently, he flicked on the tape again, and Ted’s hoarse voice filled the room. “Who are you?” Zane said aloud. “Just who the hell are you?”
And what about Johnston?
An icy knot curled in his stomach. Maybe this Ted character was wrong. Surely the courts wouldn’t set a psychotic like Johnston back on the streets. But it had happened time and time again. He shivered inside. He loved Kaylie; he’d never stopped. But he wasn’t going to sacrifice her life for anything—not even for a reconciliation. So, if it meant Kaylie would hate him for the rest of her life, so be it. At least she would be safe.
Or would she?
Even here, Zane wasn’t completely at ease.
He walked outside to a shed where he kept his phone and, despite the late hour, dialed Brad Hastings. Something had to happen soon. He couldn’t keep Kaylie up here forever.
* * *
Kaylie didn’t waste any time. The situation was intolerable. She was getting in much too deep with Zane, and she’d have to leave him soon, or she’d never find the willpower. As for Lee Johnston, she’d take care of herself—hire a bodyguard if necessary.
A bodyguard like Zane?
Her heart turned over and she had to fight the strong pull of emotions.
Upstairs she tossed a pair of jeans, her running shoes, a sweater and jacket over the end of the bed. She drew the covers to her neck and waited, listening to the sounds of the old house: timbers creaking, wind rattling windowpanes, clock ticking in the hall.
Go to bed, Zane, she silently prayed.
An hour passed before she heard his footsteps on the stairs. He paused at the landing, and she wondered if he’d check on her. How would she explain her clothes? The fact that she was still awake?
Chewing on her lip, her heart pumping crazily, she heard his footsteps retreat and the door to his room open and close.
She let out her breath. Now she could get started. She gave him a half hour to get to sleep, then fifteen minutes more for good measure. At a quarter to one, she slid out of bed and dressed in the moonlight streaming through her window.
Tucking her shoes under her arm, she headed in stockinged feet through her door and into the hallway. Her footsteps didn’t make a sound, but her pulse was thundering in her brain.
Slowly she started downstairs, wincing on the third step when it creaked beneath her weight.
She waited, holding her breath, but Zane’s door didn’t bang open, so she hurried down the rest of the flight, picked her way through the living room to the kitchen, then dug in the pantry where she had discovered the old jacket and flashlight. Carefully she switched on the portable light and was rewarded with a steady, if pale, beam.
Good enough, she thought, unlatching the back door and slipping outside. She closed the door behind her, slid into her Reebok tennis shoes and, using only the faint light from a cloud-covered moon as her guide, made her way to the barn.
Inside, the horses snorted and pawed at the stalls. “Shh,” Kaylie whispered, flashing her light until she found His Majesty. “It’s all right.”
Dallas poked his silken nose over the stall door and Kaylie petted him fondly. “Not tonight,” she whispered, feeling a little like a traitor. “Tonight I need speed. I can’t take a chance that you-know-who will catch me.”
With surprising quickness, she bridled and saddled His Majesty, then led him from the barn. He danced and minced as the wind rushed through the trees, and Kaylie felt the first drop of rain fall from the sky. “Oh, great,” she murmured. She tried hard to disregard the fact that she wasn’t horsewoman enough for him if he were spooked.
His hoofbeats seemed to echo through the night as she unlatched the main gate and guided him through.
She had no idea where she was going, but intended to follow the long lane until daylight. Hopefully, by then, she’d find a crossroad or two and be able to lose Zane, because, if and when he caught up with her, all hell would break loose.
She didn’t pause to consider the consequences of his wrath now. Instead she swung into the saddle and shoved her heels into His Majesty’s sides. The horse picked up speed, trotting down the drive as the cold wind rushed against her face.
Kaylie squinted in the darkness, hoping beyond hope that His Majesty had some vague idea where civilization would lie, because she didn’t.
The sky was dark—no bright lights over the hillside guiding her. Nope, this time she’d have to let common sense and her mount’s instincts lead the way. And I need a little luck, she thought with an inward smile as she shone her flashlight toward the sky and caught the reflection of heavy cable. She’d follow the electricity and telephone wires. Eventually, she reasoned, the cables would lead to civilization.
The road was steep, the switchbacks hairpin curves, but His Majesty picked his way along the gravel without faltering. Kaylie, tense, forever listening to the sounds of the night, prayed that Zane would sleep in and not wake until after nine. By that time she’d be well on her way to San Francisco. Clucking her tongue, she encouraged the stallion to pick up his pace as rain beat down in a steady drizzle.
She’d ridden for nearly an hour before she came to the first road of any significance. Her shoulders had already begun to ache, and her fingers and cheeks were slick with rain. “Okay, boy, what do you think?” she asked, patting the chestnut’s sleek neck and frowning when she noticed the wires overhead were strung in both directions. One way would lead to a city, the other could lead to another isolated, and perhaps abandoned, house in the forest.
“Great,” she mumbled to her disinterested horse. “Just fine and dandy!” No doubt Zane would expect her to head west, for that was the most likely way to reach civilization. And, blast it, she didn’t have much choice as the mountains to the north and east were forbidding and there were no roads that led south.
“West it is,” she ground out, refusing to think about the cold water seeping through her collar and running down her neck. She urged His Majesty forward, her ears straining for the sound of an engine behind them. But all she heard was the sigh of the wind, the steady drip of rain and the rhythmic plop of the stallion’s hooves. Occasionally a rustle in the undergrowth would startle the horse as a hidden animal scurried through the woods flanking the gravel road. “Squirrels and raccoons and rabbits,” she told herself. “Nothing bigger or creepy. No bats or snakes or cougars….”
As the night wore on, Kaylie shone her flashlight whenever there was a crossroads, but otherwise followed the road by using the thick power cables as her guide.
Lightning struck in jagged flashes that illuminated the distant hills for a few sizzling moments. His Majesty shied and reared at the eerie light and the growl of thunder as it echoed over the hills.
“Hold, on, boy.” Kaylie’s hands tightened over the reins. “Steady.”
The night closed in around her, and she felt the silence of the woods, the breath of the wind against her fingers and bare neck, the cold damp touch of the rain. She considered turning back a couple of times, but pressed on. Being with Zane was just too dangerous. Some women were cursed to love the wrong men. She just happened to be one of them.
Eventually, the road grew less steep. Kaylie’s heart soared. She closed her eyes and thought she heard the hum of traffic on a faraway interstate. Or was it the rattle of a train on distant tracks? No matter. It meant she was approaching some sort of civilization.
Suddenly His Majesty tossed back his head and snorted violently. Stopping short, he rolled wide, white-rimmed eyes backward. His nostrils distended, and his wet coat quivered under her hands.
“Hey, whoa—” The hairs on the back of Kaylie’s neck rose as her mount minced and sidestepped. “What is it?” she whispered, hoping she didn’t convey her fear to the horse.
She shone her flashlight ahead, and its tiny beam landed on Zane, half lying on the hood of his Jeep, soaked to the skin, his back propped by the windshield, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression positively murderous.
“Oh, God.” Kaylie’s heart plummeted.
Lightning flashed over the hills, and His Majesty reared, but at the sound of Zane’s voice, the horse quieted, nickering softly.
“Well, well, Ms. Melville,” Zane drawled in a tone so low and angry it rivaled the distant thunder, “I was wondering when you’d finally show up.”
Chapter Eight
“But how—” Kaylie sputtered, shivering as she stared past Zane to the road beyond. Maybe she could make a run for it—or maybe His Majesty could find a path through the woods, a path the Jeep couldn’t follow….
“Don’t do anything crazy,” Zane warned, shoving himself upright and hopping to the wet ground. “And the way I found you is simple. Most of the side roads around here are old logging trails—roads that crisscross over the mountain but eventually end up here. I knew if I waited long enough, you’d turn up.”
“You heard me leave?” she asked, swiping at a drip of rain on the tip of her nose.
“Take my advice—don’t apply for a job with the CIA.”
“You tricked me!”
“No, you tricked me.” He strode over and reached for the bridle, but she pulled hard on the rein
s and His Majesty’s broad head swung away from Zane. Kicking sharply into the stallion’s sides, Kaylie tried to spur past Zane, but he was too quick.
With an oath, Zane sprang like a puma and grabbed hold of the reins, ripping the wet leather straps from Kaylie’s chilled fingers. “That was a stupid thing to do! Even worse than trying to hot-wire the Jeep!”
A ragged streak of lightning scarred the sky.
The horse reared, and Kaylie, thrown off balance, grabbed wildly at the saddle horn and His Majesty’s wet mane.
“Whoa—slow down.” Zane soothed the stallion, murmuring softly until the anxious beast slowly relaxed. “That’s it, boy.” Zane patted the chestnut’s shoulder.
Kaylie, her hair tossed around her face, accused, “You pretended to be asleep! You heard me leave and you followed me!”
“Of course I heard you leave. Do you think I’d trust you after I caught you tampering with my ignition?”
“Tampering?” she repeated, furious and cold and hurt. “I was just trying to regain my freedom—you know, one of the basic constitutional rights guaranteed to every citizen!”
“I’ve heard this all before.”
“Well, you’re going to hear it again!”
“Get down, Kaylie.”
“No way.”
“Get down. Now!” he roared.
“You have no right to order me around!” she yelled, tossing her head imperiously.
“Probably not,” he admitted, “but it’s late and I’m tired and wet. Now let’s go home.”
“That log monstrosity is not my home!” she shot back, frustrated and angry that he’d caught up with her twice. Why, when it was so hard to leave him, didn’t he make it easy for her and just let her go?
“Not your permanent home maybe, but for now—”
“Don’t you know I’ll hate you forever for this?” she hurled down at him, glaring.
Moonlight washed his face, and a sliver of pain slashed through his silvery eyes. “So hate me,” he replied, his mouth tightening at the corners. “But while you’re hating me, get down.” When she didn’t budge, he glanced up. “Okay, have it your way. You can ride His Majesty all the way back in this damned rain while I lead him in the Jeep, or you can enjoy the relative comforts of a heater, radio and padded bucket seats. Your choice.”