Dangerous Lover

by Maggie Shayne

  He sighed, then straightened and took a more thorough look around the area where she and Cory had been sitting. He looked at the ground, but it was too hard here to hold any footprints. He looked at her backpack, and she thanked her stars Cory had taken his with him. There was nothing else to tell the tale. Nothing he would see anyway. If he was at all in tune he would feel Cory’s presence lingering here. God knew she did.

  She knew the moment he decided to believe her. She saw the change in his eyes, the way his mind shifted from questioning her about Cory, to doing whatever came next. She didn’t think he was capable of directing too many trains of thought at the same time. Cory was, for the moment, forgotten. The man came to her, gripped her upper arm, and jerked her to her feet. “You’re coming with me.”

  “Oh, yeah? And where are we going?”

  “Wherever I tell you.”

  She stomped hard on his instep and when he bent slightly in reaction she pulled her knee up hard and fast to connect with his chin. But his foot snaked out and hooked behind hers, tugging forward, so her legs went out from under her and she landed hard on her back, cracked her head on a rock, and felt pain explode in her skull.

  He loomed over her.

  “I’m not going without a fight,” she said, panting, blinking the stars from her vision. “I hope you’re up for it, because I’m going to make this just as hard for you as I can.”

  He rubbed his chin. “Maybe not. We have Erica,” he said. “I can take you to her, or make one little call on this—” He held up a walkie-talkie. “And have her shot. You choose.”

  “You’re going to kill her anyway,” she accused.

  He shrugged. “And you, too, I imagine. The question is, do you want to die now, or later? Do you want to see your friend again before you go?”

  She swallowed hard. “I’ll see her again, either way.” But she didn’t want him to take Cory as well, and he could come back at any moment. There was no sense in both of them dying. Maybe he could get help, track them, wait for the right moment. Maybe she could find a way to gain the advantage, and save herself and Erica.

  Or maybe Erica was already dead.

  “All right,” she said. “I’ll come with you.”

  “Good girl.”

  Cory didn’t find any obvious signs to follow, not that he’d expected to. His true purpose in leaving Selene had been to give himself some space, to figure out what the hell was happening to him. He couldn’t be falling for her. Even if he thought he might be, it would be stupid to believe it. In the state he was in, how could he trust his own feelings? He couldn’t even trust his own mind right now. It had gone from a looming black hole to a jigsaw puzzle with a handful of pieces still missing. Okay, so his memory was almost fully restored. But those missing pieces were big ones. Recent history was still spotty. He still didn’t know who the hell this Kelly was. He might be married, for God’s sake.

  Deep down a little voice told him he knew damn well that wasn’t the case, but until he knew that for sure, he had to consider it a possibility. Or maybe he was just using it as an excuse to avoid thinking too hard about what he felt or didn’t feel for Selene.

  Okay, scratch that. He definitely felt something for Selene. He supposed he had to admit that to himself. But he couldn’t admit it to her, because maybe it would still remain even after he’d regained the missing pieces of his memory and got his head back in order. But maybe it wouldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to her to give her hope when his own emotions were so damned unreliable and uncertain.

  He shouldn’t have left her, though. He’d only been gone twenty minutes, and feeling guilty as hell the entire time. It bugged him that he couldn’t bring himself to say anything when she told him she loved him. But what could he say? He didn’t know what he was feeling, or even whether his feelings were real or just some kind of psychological bond with the only person he’d known since his memory had deserted him.

  He sighed, and was no closer to knowing his own mind than he had been when he left, as he walked back into the small clearing. He shrugged off his pack. “Sorry I left like that. You were right, as usual. I didn’t find anything.”

  She didn’t reply. Probably angry with him for retreating rather than talking to her. Taking the easy out. She had to know he’d left to avoid a difficult conversation, and not to search for any trail.

  He was hoping she’d have let it go by now, and he could put off the tough stuff until later. But maybe not. He turned to face the music, but he didn’t see her there, on the ground where she’d been lying only minutes ago.

  “Hey. C’mon, Selene, don’t be mad.” He looked around the area. “Selene?”

  Something chattered in a way so angry it almost made his heart stop—and he was spinning around even before his brain registered the familiar voice of a gray squirrel.

  The animal was sitting on Selene’s backpack. It flicked its tail rapidly, then chattered at him again.

  “What the—” He remembered that Selene had told him Squirrel was her friend Tessa’s animal guide. Could this mean something, then? It whispered through his brain that maybe Tessa was trying to tell him something, before he brushed the ridiculous notion aside. Since when did he think like that?

  He moved toward the pack, and the squirrel took off. He watched it go, then looked around again, kneeling beside the pack. It had been leaning up against a tree trunk when he’d left Selene. Now it was lying on the ground, five feet from the tree, and he was getting a very bad feeling. “Selene?”

  His heart hit his ribs like a sledge-hammer. There was a large dusty boot print on her backpack. Not hers, that print, and not Cory’s. Rising slowly, he took a more careful look around. There were marks on the ground, as if from a scuffle. And—hell, was that….?

  He knelt near the small round cobblestone that protruded from the earth, and touched the red wetness there. Blood.

  Hell. “Selene!” He turned in a circle, searching as his heart rate zoomed from alarmed to frantic in the space of a single beat. “Selene, where are you?”

  A screech drew him around, and the pounding beat of powerful wings passed so close to his head, he ducked instinctively. The hawk, a redtail, swooped over him, then sped away into the woods below the treeline, with all the speed and maneuvering of a stealth bomber. She rocked up to one side, then to another, zigged and wove to avoid limbs, and then vanished.

  He didn’t hesitate long. Only a moment. Just enough time for his mind to register that there was something way beyond “normal” going on here. And then he was heading in the direction the hawk had gone, bending to scoop up both backpacks as he passed. He slung one over each shoulder, and they were heavy. He might have to leave them before long. Depended on how far they had taken her, whoever they were.

  And he had no doubt whatsoever that Selene had been taken. He blamed himself. He ached with guilt, and damn near burst with worry as he recalled the fate of Selene’s friend. “If those bastards hurt her, I’ll fuckin’ kill them.” His own anger astounded him, but he didn’t take time to question it.

  The hawk screeched from somewhere beyond his line of sight, and he adjusted his course. “I’m coming,” he said.

  Garrett Brand’s big, white oversized Ford pickup truck kicked up a cloud of dust when it slid to a stop in the campground’s small parking lot. By the time the other vehicles—pickups, SUVs and a Mustang, filled all the spaces around it, there was so much dust one could barely see.

  But he didn’t need to see. He got out and absently brushed the dirt off the star pinned to his chest as he listened to other doors slamming.

  Garrett’s baby sister Jessie and her better half, his own deputy, Lash, got out of one pickup, and his brothers Wes and Ben climbed out of another. The SUV doors opened, and more Brands poured out. Elliot and Adam, Luke and cousin Marcus. The women—aside from Jessie, who was the best tracker in the entire state of Texas—had remained at the ranch. Most had wanted to come along, but since the entire Oklahoma branch of the family were e
ven now making their way into Texas, the ranch needed to be manned. Those Okie Brands were going to need a home base, and this could drag on a while.

  His siblings and cousin gathered around Garrett, though he towered over all of them, except for Ben, who was nearly his size and ten times as graceful, what with the martial arts and all. Wes stood closest to him, shoulder to shoulder, as always. Black eyes and blacker ponytail gleaming in the morning sun, Wes said, “Aunt Vi and the crew here yet?”

  “It’ll take them a mite longer. It’s further off, but Aunt Vi was working on a charter plane to fly them to the nearest airport.” Garrett glanced at his watch. “Should be here in the space of another hour, though.”

  “I should take a look around, see if I can pick up a trail,” Jessie said. She hauled all five foot two inches and hundred-ten pounds of herself away from them, heading along the trail.

  Garrett almost called after her to be careful, then bit his lip at a swift look from Lash. Jessie hated being watched out for. And Lash had it down to a science anyway. “Wait up, hon,” he called. “I’m coming with you in case you need muscle as well as brains.”

  She rolled her eyes at him, but waited.

  Garrett saw cops milling around, several sending curious looks after the two trackers, and likely getting ready to intervene. So he stepped over to them and asked who was in charge. His gang trailed behind him, silent and keeping their distance, but only until they were needed.

  He was directed to a white-haired, tired-looking man in a suit a size too big. Garrett, who’d had enough experience with people not to judge them on appearance alone, approached the man, and extended a hand. “Garrett Brand, sheriff up from Quinn. I bent your ear on the phone earlier.”

  “Brand.” The man clasped his hand, his grip surprisingly firm, his nod sharp. “Special Agent Chapel, FBI.”

  Garrett nodded. The Feds were involved because state lines had been crossed and this had all the earmarks of a hate crime, Selene and her murdered friends being Wiccans and all. People tended to misunderstand that sort of thing around these parts. Hell, he might have been a mite troubled by it, too, if he didn’t have a bona fide shaman and a full fledged Buddhist for brothers. They’d pretty much enlightened him about the more ‘outer edge’ spiritual systems. Wiccans cast spells, and that scared people. But Wes and Ben insisted they both did pretty much the same sort of thing, just in different ways. The differences were all semantics and details, was all.

  “Good meetin’ ya.” Garrett looked around. “What’s the latest?”

  “Campground owner is in ICU and not talking. Her partner says two carloads of men pulled in, she went out to tell them the place was closed, and they up and shot her. Then they headed back toward where the camping areas are.” He pointed as he spoke.

  “How’s the owner doing? She going to pull through?”

  “It’s touch and go right now. She’s only thirty-two years old for crying out loud.”

  Garrett shook his head slowly. “So did the partner say how many men there were?”

  “Five, he thought. That red car there, that was theirs. No plates or registration. No insurance cards or inspection stickers. VID number’s been filed off. Forensics will find any trace evidence. There has to be something. They had a Jeep, too, took that on into the grounds with ’em.”

  “What went on in there?” Garrett asked, looking along the winding trail that disappeared into the woods.

  “They went in shooting, demanding to know where Erica Jackson was. Had a photo of her and everything. The campers scattered.”

  “Casualties?”

  “Three dead, two injured. The rest are all accounted for. Except for Erica Jackson, that is. She was last seen running up the mountain into the forest. One witness says the killers went in the same direction a short time later, on her trail. Everyone else got the hell out of there. We rounded them up and questioned them one by one in the parking lot, then sent ’em into town to find a place to hole up until they can come back for their gear.”

  “And my cousin?” Garrett asked. When the special agent just frowned at him, he reminded the man, “The blonde who got here before the cops did?”

  “Right. Selene Brand. She was with a feller. Cory something. They spoke to the campground owner’s partner, then went on into the woods in search of Erica. They’re out there now, far as anyone knows.”

  Garrett nodded slowly. “Okay. So we’ve got five armed killers chasing one preacher’s daughter—”

  “Preacher’s daughter?” The agent looked aghast. “What the hell was a preacher’s daughter doing here? This was some kind of Witchcraft festival.”

  Garrett held up a hand. “That’s hardly relevent here, Special Agent Chapel. I was just nutshelling this thing. We’ve got five armed killers chasing one unarmed preacher’s daughter through the dense forest. We’ve got a ninety-five pound witchling and an amnesiac fresh out of the hospital chasing the bad guys, and we’ve got….”

  He paused, glanced at the agent with brows raised, waiting for him to fill in the rest. The man nodded. “We’ve got cops and agents set up in a perimeter covering five square miles and closing slowly. I have a map in here, I’ll show you.”

  “Suppose they moved farther than that before you locked it up?”

  “They couldn’t have,” the old man said. But Garrett had a feeling they just might have managed.

  “Maybe, just for the hell of it, I’ll take my team out a few miles beyond your perimeter, hmm? That way we’re not getting in your way or traipsing over your jurisdiction, and we can cover the areas you can’t.”

  “That’s not a bad idea, Brand.” The man looked over at the others who stood waiting, just as more vehicles began to roll in.

  Garrett grinned as Vidalia piled out of a pickup big enough to require a stepladder for a woman her size. More shocking was the fact that she was carrying a shotgun so tall its butt-to-muzzle distance was about the height of Vi’s shoulder. Double-barrel, ten-gauge, side-by-side. And he didn’t have a doubt she knew how to use it. That thing would blow a hole in a man the size of a freaking grapefruit. And that was just on the way in.

  She was a beauty, his Aunt Vi. Curvy and small and fit. Not a line on her face and hair like black satin. Seemed more likely to be the older sister of the bunch than their mamma, but he knew better.

  Behind her were her daughters, Maya, Edie, Mel, and Kara. Each of them had a gun and a gun-toting man in tow. The fellow with Kara had been there waiting, and he wore a police uniform.

  “All those folks deputies of yours, Sheriff Brand?”

  He glanced back at the federal agent, gave him a wink. “Sure are.”

  “Look an awful lot like a pack of armed vigilante civilians to me.”

  “I’ll keep ’em in line. And like I said, we’ll work outside your perimeter.” He waved at Vi, cupped a hand and shouted to Wes. “Grab the walkie and call Jessie and Lash back. We’ve got a better starting point.”

  “Will do.”

  Aunt Vi and her family marched into the crowd of Texas Brands, and while the sisters and husbands stopped there, as introductions were obviously being exchanged, Aunt Vi kept right on moving through the pack and up to where Garrett stood talking to the agent. She stopped, cradling the gun in her arms, across her chest.

  “I’m Vidalia Brand,” she announced, as if the name should mean something to the agent. “And I’m here to find out just where my daughter is, and what you are doing about getting her back here.” One fine, dark eyebrow cocked up, and one foot tapped impatiently as she awaited her answer.

  Chapter 14

  Cory followed the hawk. It would fly out of sight, and he would head in the direction it had gone until he couldn’t tell if he were still on course. And without fail, when he got that far, the hawk would scream in the distance, pulling him back on the mark. He knew it was ridiculous to follow a raptor through the forest like this in hopes it would somehow, magically lead him to Selene. He knew it, and his brain was arguing with him
the entire time, and yet he couldn’t quite stop himself. There was nothing else to follow; there were no other signs to go by.

  At least, not for awhile.

  And then there were.

  The first was a bracelet, glittering and flashing in the speckled sunlight that filtered down through the canopy. It hung from a tiny limb, right about at eye level. He stopped and took it carefully, and the images flashed in his mind. Selene dancing in the moonlight, around that circle outside the inn, her arms extended over her head, moving sinuously, the bracelet catching and reflecting moonbeams. The memory hit him so hard he damn near doubled over in pain. God, if anything happened to her….

  He couldn’t think that way. Couldn’t bear to think that way, it would cripple him. The thought of some bastard putting his hands on her, hurting her. Hell, he already had, hurt her. That had been her blood back there on the stone. And God only knew what else he’d done.

  No, he couldn’t let those thoughts paralyze him. But he couldn’t quite wipe them from his mind either. And another thought distracted him from the task at hand, too. The realization that he had actually been right to follow the hawk. It had honest to goodness led him in the right direction, for as long as he had needed it to, right up to the spot where Selene had managed to begin leaving signs for him to follow.

  He walked on, and in another hundred yards or so, he found another sign. This one, her necklace. Her pentacle, suspended from its chain. Again, she’d left it at eye level for him to find. She was leading him to her.

  He took it and draped it around his own neck, wondering why she would leave it behind, when she’d told him what a powerful symbol it was, how protective its powers, and how much stronger she felt when she wore it.

  She might need that kind of strength. And yet, she’d risked doing without it, just to give him another sign. Hell.

  He kept following. Every scrap of jewelry she’d been wearing showed up, appearing in branches and dangling from twigs every hundred yards or so. And she’d been wearing a lot of jewelry. Even the earrings, three pairs and one single, for a grand total of seven pieces, dangled one by one. A hoop hanging like a Christmas ornament from a pine tree. A wire piercing a thick ash leaf. A post, thrust into the trunk of a white birch like a thumbtack in a cork board.