Eye of a Hunter

by Sylvie Kurtz

  “Do they have ginger ale in the soda machine?”

  “We’ll look on the way out.” There was no give in his voice. He was as determined to keep her trapped in his sights as she was to escape him. “Don’t make me wait too long.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” With as carefree a step as she could manage, she rounded the curve of the wall, then peered around the corner. Through his damned glasses, his gaze was zeroed in on the entrance to the ladies’ room.

  Behind her the red-hatted women congregated around the sinks. Their cheery voices pinballed against the tiles. She could slip into the middle of the group as they were leaving. Gray would spot a sea of red and purple, and she’d swim out lost among them. Then she’d have only a few minutes to disappear. Would the ladies notice one more on the tour bus?

  The older women headed for the entrance. Just as she was about to join the group, someone bumped into her. Abbie’s arms automatically reached out to the tiled wall to catch herself from falling.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” the tall, thin woman said. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “It’s all right.” Distracted, Abbie glanced at the group. She had only a few seconds more to make her escape. “I’m fine.”

  Abbie pushed herself off the wall. A heavy, cream-colored envelope toppled from her leather bag. “Miss? You dropped something.”

  Hands dripping with water, the woman ripped a length of paper towel from the holder and shook her head. “No, it’s not mine.”

  Abbie turned over the envelope and glanced down at the name. “Are you—”

  She sucked in a small gasp and ran a finger over the brown calligraphy ink that turned her name into a work of art. Where had this come from? The paper was damp under her fingers, as if it had absorbed moist sea air. Bert must have tucked a note in her bag.

  She looked up in time to realize she’d missed her opportunity to escape. The ladies had all left. And Gray still stood there.

  Desperately needing a few minutes to think, she slipped into a stall and locked the door. She dragged a nail under the flap and slit the envelope open. Bert’s words of encouragement would settle her nerves. Her gaze traveled to the end of the page looking for the curvy angel doodle that always graced Bert’s notes. Her heart sank.

  Rafe’s name contaminated the expensive paper, and his heavy energy crawled under her skin like a poison-ivy rash. She let her back fall against the beige metal wall of the stall for support. The stationery shook in her hands.

  In the same calligraphy hand, the message read:

  My Dearest Abrielle—

  At a time like this, who can you trust?

  The WITSEC inspector assigned to keep you safe?

  Check his bank account, dearest Abrielle, you’ll see how well he’s being paid to betray you.

  Your childhood friends?

  Your Brynna has a crusade to mount now, doesn’t she? And crusades are always expensive. Ask her how many cases she’s handled this year. Ask her about her expenses. Ask her how she’s making ends meet. The answer will surprise you. Did you know that she’s used your name to grease her way?

  Your Grayson is a man on a mission. On the surface, you’re his mission. But ask yourself what is more important to him, you or keeping up the image of the fearless hunter? He can live without you. He’s proven that over the past thirteen years. But he cannot live without the weight of his title. A coward always needs a shield. He’s run from Echo Falls. He’s run from the Navy. He’s run from the Marshals Service. When things get tough, Grayson Reed runs. Can you trust that he won’t run when you need him most?

  Don’t be foolish enough to think Seekers, Inc. can protect you. One of them is ready to use you as barter bait. Their deaths will be on your conscience.

  You are mine. No one, nothing, can keep us apart. I will find you wherever you go.

  I have never shown you anything but the utmost respect. I have loved you and cherished you. I have laid my soul bare to you. I am ready to give you the world. I will stand by you when you need me.

  In just a few more days we can put this misunderstanding behind us and live the life that is our fated destiny together as man and wife.

  Remember, Abrielle, there is no one you can trust, except me.

  All my love,

  Raphael.

  “Abbie?” Gray’s voice echoed against the tiled walls of the bathroom and made her jump. “If you’re not out here in ten seconds, I’m coming in after you.”

  “I’ll be right out.”

  She folded the letter back in its envelope and dropped both in her bag. At the sink she splashed cold water on her face and pasted on a smile, then strode out of the ladies’ room.

  “Everything all right?” Gray asked. His blasted mirrored glasses covered his eyes, but their burning gaze studied every inch of her for signs of distress. “Still want that soda?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Gray maneuvered her to the vending machine, fed coins into the slot and handed her a can of Sprite—the closest thing to her request. Their fingers touched against the cool aluminum. His grip on the can stayed firm and his mirrored gaze seemed to reach all the way down to her soul. “I can keep you safe.”

  When she didn’t respond, he let go. The weight of defeat strained her limbs like deadwood.

  The nightmare wasn’t going away. Rafe didn’t love her. He didn’t cherish her. He didn’t have her best interest at heart—only his own. She had no illusions that if she gave in to his demands, she would wake up six feet underground.

  Still, he was good at using weaknesses to his advantage. He was a master at digging dirt. How much of what he’d written about Phil and Brynna and Gray was true? How much was scare tactic? How much more could Rafe take away from her before there was nothing left?

  Chapter Five

  Gray stole a glance at Abbie sitting next to him in the car. She held the can of Sprite with both hands and stared at the unopened tab as if it were a missile detonator and the decision to destroy a state rested solely with her. She hadn’t said a word in over twenty minutes.

  Ordinarily he’d just turn on the radio and let her stew in her own mind, but she’d already gone through so much. More than most men could take without breaking.

  Gray had a hunch she’d wanted to bolt back there. The crawl of spiders had knitted a web on the back of his neck. They’d started their frantic construction as soon as he’d shut off the engine and hadn’t stopped until they were once again on the road. Too bad, honey. You’re stuck with me until the trial.

  “Talk to me, Abbie.”

  She continued staring at the top of the can of soda. The lights over the Piscataqua River Bridge turned the purple night into a sour-orange haze. He switched to the middle lane to avoid the odd sensation of falling the rail gave him.

  “If I ask you questions, will you answer with the truth?”

  “Of course.” What’s the catch?

  “No couching to protect me.” A certain desperation furrowed her forehead and clouded the bright light that should shine from her eyes.

  “I’ll always protect you, Abbie, whether you want me to or not.” He shot her the smile he’d once reserved just for her, the kind of smile that would provoke an answering grin no matter what her mood. “Talk to me.”

  “Will you not ask me any questions in return?”

  Drawing tiny circles with his back teeth, he stared at the white lines on the road. What was he agreeing to? A debating team took up sides in his head. After a minute neither side had him convinced, so he went with neutral. “I’m not sure I can promise that without more information.”

  She shook her head, returned her gaze to the top of the soda can and picked idly at the tab with a fingernail. “You’re worse than the company lawyers. Listen, answer and don’t question. Okay?”

  He pulled in a breath. To get, he was going to have to give a little. Getting past Abbie’s barrier was more important than satisfying his own curiosity. The pro side won. For now. “Okay.
”

  “Why did you leave the Navy?”

  This was relevant to the current situation how? “I put in my five years and moved on.”

  Her fingernail fiddled with the tab on the can of soda, causing a nerve-irritating click-click-click.

  “I wanted something more, Abbie, something the Navy couldn’t give me.”

  “What?”

  He shrugged, staring at the thickening traffic around Portsmouth. What had he wanted? A sense of accom plishment? Control? Knowing how to put feelings into words wasn’t his specialty. “What I found at Seekers.”

  “Why were you fired from the Marshals Service?”

  Continuing an investigation after a cease-and-desist order had not gone down well with his superior. The Service always came first. That was the unwritten rule. But damn if it hadn’t felt good to do the right thing, even if it was the wrong choice for career growth. Turned out he’d helped save lives doing it, too. In the end truth had won out and they’d all gained vindication. “I wasn’t fired. I was temporarily put on unpaid leave, along with the rest of the Special Operations Group, until an investigation cleared us.”

  “Why did you quit, then?”

  Because following rules and regulations didn’t come easy. He’d tried to toe the line in the Navy. He’d tried to go by the book in the Service. But private policing offered much more freedom—and bigger rewards. “For many reasons. The main one being that Sebastian Falconer offered me a job. I respect the man and his vision, so I accepted.”

  “The people at Seekers—do you trust them?”

  By the dim light of the dashboard he studied her with his peripheral vision—the pale skin, the haggard look, the desperation. Was she finally realizing she had no choice but to trust him? “With my life.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive.”

  “How close are you to these people?” She licked her dry lips but didn’t crack the tab that could quench her thirst. “I mean, would any of them admit if they’d done something wrong?”

  “Like what?”

  A sigh escaped her and her shoulders slumped as if she were deflating. “I don’t know. Something that might make them betray one of the team?”

  “I don’t know what you’re getting at, but if I was in a tough situation, I’d want a Seeker watching my back.”

  She nodded but nervously rocked the can of soda between her palms. The rumble of the engine growled between them, a pulse beating out the tension of their silence.

  He rolled his tongue in his mouth and did his best to swallow his impatience. “What’s going on, Abbie?”

  A crinkle of painful lines radiated from her eyes as she winged her shoulders forward. “I can’t go with you to Seekers, Inc.”

  “It’s the safest place there is.”

  “Rafe is going to kill all of you. I can’t have that on my conscience. It’s too crowded as it is.”

  “Abbie—”

  “No, listen to me.” Her head jerked up and her eyes were alight with a gold fire that pulsated with cold fear instead of warmth. “My father is dead. Three deputies are dead. A police officer is dead. Rafe isn’t going to stop until he gets me, and he knows where we’re going.”

  Gray’s jaw slid back and forth. “He can’t know.”

  “He told me.”

  Gray’s head snapped in her direction. The phantom spiders at the back of his neck went on overdrive. The car next to him honked as Corinne drifted into its lane. “When?”

  Abbie set the can of soda aside, dug into the bag at her feet and brought out a cream-colored envelope. “He left this for me.”

  “Where?” How was it possible for Vanderveer to get anywhere close to Abbie? How had Gray missed the intrusion? He’d promised to keep her safe. How the hell was he supposed to do that if he couldn’t even see his prey? Maybe Falconer was right to question his ability to do this job.

  “I’m not sure. I found it while I was in the bathroom.”

  He kicked himself once more. He should’ve gone in with her. “Read it to me.”

  She did. And with each venomous word scratched by Vanderveer’s pen Gray’s temper rose a degree. By the time she finished reading, he was just shy of boiling over. Hands clawed around the steering wheel, he modulated his voice. She’s afraid. Soothe her. “He’s lying, Abbie.”

  She folded the note back into its envelope and thrust it into her bag. “About some things, yes. But you have to understand that he’s an expert manipulator. Dirt and weaknesses are his tools of choice.”

  “He’s manipulating you with his lies.”

  “Bryn hasn’t been herself in a long time,” she said. The pleats above her eyes pressed into her forehead much too deeply and made his thumbs itch to smooth them. “How come Phil Auclair wasn’t killed when three younger deputies were? For all I know, you did run from the Navy and from the Marshals Service—”

  “I didn’t run. I chose new career paths—”

  “How can you be one hundred percent sure about everyone who works on the Seekers team?”

  The picture of Harper flashed into his mind. The guy carried a chip bigger than California on his shoulder. He didn’t fit in. And Gray had wondered more than once why Falconer had hired someone like Harper. Was Harper angry enough to trade Abbie’s life for whatever mark stained his soul? “Vanderveer is using your fears to get you to do what he wants. If you’re running, it’s easier to get a bead on you.”

  “I don’t care, Gray. All I have is your word that one of your team isn’t dirty. I can’t take that chance. I’m not going where I don’t feel safe, and I won’t feel safe at Seekers. Not knowing Rafe knows where I am. I’m not going there.”

  “You don’t have a choice, honey.” You find her and you bring her in. Is that understood? Gray had given Falconer his word.

  “I’d rather die than give Rafe a reason to kill more people.”

  Her hand curled around the door handle, and the spiders at his neck went hog wild again. For once he wished he’d gone for a late-model car with all the bells and whistles to lock her in, instead of a classic like Corinne with everything manual.

  “You keep going straight through the Hampton tolls or I swear to God I’ll open that door and jump out.”

  She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. All he had to do was calm her down. “Abbie—”

  “Stop the car, Gray, because I’m getting out.” The clipped confidence of her tone took him aback. So did the latch that unhooked with a pop.

  “Close the door.” They were in the middle of traffic. She wouldn’t get out. She was trying her hand at some Vanderveerian manipulation.

  “Not unless you stop the car.”

  “I’m in the freakin’ middle lane. There’s traffic all around us. You’ll get yourself killed.”

  She reached to unclip the safety belt. Swearing, he clasped a hand over the buckle, squeezing her hand to keep her from pressing her finger on the release. She let go of the door. It rattled against the frame. With traffic on both sides, he couldn’t maneuver to the shoulder. She hooked the leather bag at her feet into her hand and slammed it into his fist until his knuckles bled. Before she broke bone, he capitulated. “All right. You win.”

  Her breathing was a jagged rush. Her eyes were wide and wild. She was so wound up, he was afraid she’d spring out from sheer adrenaline overload.

  “Stop the car.”

  “I said you win. I’ll drive through the damned tolls.” There was more than one way to Wintergreen.

  “Stop the car now.”

  “We’re in the middle of traffic.”

  She reached for the door again. “Stop the damned car!”

  “Fine.”

  He tapped the brakes, warning the car behind him of his intent. He added the hazard lights for good measure. She’d soon see how stupidly she was acting. “We’re stopped. Close the door.”

  “Not until you promise that you won’t take me to Seekers.”

  “It’s the safest place for you, but
if—”

  Before he could finish, she flung the door open and got out. Traffic buzzed around her in a flurry of dizzying headlights, honked horns and raised fists.

  Careful of the traffic, he rushed after her. She strode down the middle lane of I-95 as if she were on an empty country road outside of Echo Falls. “Abbie!”

  She rounded on him, her face raw with rage, her fists tight at her side. The steady beam of his headlights cut stark shadows across her body, sharpening her cheeks, chiseling her chin and giving her face a hard edge. That hardness scared him more than any special operation he’d taken part in. The headlights of speeding cars flickering like strobes added to the impression of madness.

  “I’ve had it,” she said. “I’ve had it with lies and threats and death. I’ve had it with people who think they know what’s good for me. My father didn’t know. Rafe doesn’t know. And you certainly don’t. Did any of you bother consulting me before you made plans? No! You all just assumed I’d want what you want. Well, guess what? I don’t want to be the good little girl anymore. I don’t want to pretend I’m somebody else. I don’t want to go to Seekers. I just want my life back. Is that too much to ask?”

  He reached out to her, desperate to reel her in to safety. She stepped back, clutching her leather bag to her chest. The diamond-and-topaz ring on her hand glared a cautious warning. She needs reassurance, Gray. Give it to her.

  “No, Abbie, it’s perfectly normal. But these aren’t normal circumstances. You said you didn’t want anyone else’s death on your conscience. If you don’t testify, then you could have the deaths of thousands of soldiers weighing on you. Seekers can keep you alive so you can get your life back. I can keep you safe until the trial. You have to trust me.”

  Her throat worked hard and she shook her head. “Rafe knows where I’m going. He knows where to find me. I can’t go there.”

  Even in this humid heat and wearing a fleece vest, shivers wracked her body. The thought that Vanderveer could locate her terrified her to her core. In this state, would she throw herself into traffic rather than walk into a place that would petrify her every second of every day? Seven days of this could leave her unfit to testify. And wasn’t that the ultimate aim?