His Deception

by Patricia Rosemoor

  Still gasping for air, Katelyn let Thorne take over. “Did you see who it was?”

  He revved the engine and moved off. “No. The driver was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses. Everything happened so fast, I barely got a glimpse after the boat rammed us. Then I was so focused on getting the boat stable and bringing you in that I couldn’t pay attention to anything else.”

  Not only her hands were shaking, she was shaking inside, as well. All the way back to Lakeside, she kept an eye out for the attack boat, but it might as well have sped into the mists of time.

  A ghost craft.

  Vanished.

  —

  For the first time in his life, Thorne felt the urge to kill fill him with a seething red haze.

  He was no stranger to death, certainly. In Afghanistan, when their convoy had been hit, he’d rescued half the men in his company. He’d killed the enemy to save them. He hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t planned it, hadn’t savored it. He’d done only what was necessary to survive.

  He’d killed again over the next months, more than once, to save men he barely knew. Some of the survivors were nameless to him, simply faces he probably wouldn’t even recognize if he saw them again.

  But he knew Katelyn Wade better than he’d ever known anyone in his life.

  He knew everything about her that a man could know about a woman. Had memorized her face. Her body. Her spirit. He couldn’t be without her. But he might have to be without her, because it looked like she would never fully forgive him. He couldn’t let that happen.

  Despite his being at her side, she’d almost died in the lake.

  No accident.

  Some animal bent on revenge.

  He was supposed to be guarding her with his life, but he had almost lost her. Forever. No going back. No do-overs.

  The red haze threatened to overtake him. He couldn’t fight it. Didn’t want to. Let it fill him with the strength he would need to get her safely to the end of this particular conflict. He had to think of it that way now.

  A battle.

  A war.

  One he had to win.

  At this moment, there was no doubt in Thorne’s mind that he would do whatever it took to protect the woman he loved.

  This time, he thought it. He planned it. He savored it.

  If that’s what it took to save her, he would kill the killer.

  So when they got back to Lakeside, he marched Katelyn, dripping wet, through the lobby.

  Natalie gaped at Katelyn. “What happened to you?”

  “I took a little swim” was all Katelyn said.

  Once inside her apartment, he pushed her into the bedroom and then toward the bathroom. “Go dry yourself off. I’ll get you some fresh clothes.” He was already opening her closet door.

  Frowning at him, she stopped and swayed a little. “I can get my own clothes.”

  “Don’t argue. Save your energy.” He pulled out a pair of long cotton jeans and a denim shirt. “Here.”

  She grabbed them from him. “Is it all right if I pick out my own underwear?”

  He grunted at her, and she stopped at the nearby dresser to dig through one of the drawers.

  “Don’t take too long,” he ordered.

  She flashed him a look of irritation. “I won’t. Cole and his men will be here any minute.”

  After she disappeared into the bathroom, he muttered, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  He wanted to get her off the premises before they had to make explanations that would delay them. That would give the attacker another chance to get at her. Calling Detective Cole and giving him the 911 on the averted kill shot could wait until they were on the road.

  Still in her closet, he pulled out a travel bag and threw more clean clothes in. He was at the dresser grabbing more underwear when the bathroom door opened.

  Seeing her finery in his hands as he dumped it into the bag, she gasped at him. “What are you doing?”

  “We need to get out of here, and we need to go now.”

  “Go where?” she demanded. “And for how long?”

  “Someplace where a potential killer can’t find you. For however long it takes for the authorities to nail him.”

  “Detective Cole should know about what just happened! We need to make a report.”

  She pulled out her cellphone.

  He grabbed it from her hand.

  “Hey, give that back to me!”

  “No way in hell,” he said, opening the back and removing the battery. “I’m getting you out of here first.” He stuffed the parts in his own pocket. “I’m not giving your attacker another chance at you.”

  “This is crazy.” She shook her head. “I can’t leave my business indefinitely. Someone has to run it.”

  “If I remember correctly, you already took care of that. You asked Natalie to work full-time all week.”

  “That’s the guest house.”

  “And you promoted Tansy.”

  “Just to see to the kitchen.”

  “And bar,” he reminded her. “Either get Chad in here or go back to serving beer and wine until the weekend.”

  He could see that she was trembling again, and not out of anger.

  When she spoke, she nearly choked on her words. “I-if I go…I might n-not want to come back to the business.”

  So that was the real problem. Her uncertainty about the future. And undoubtedly about going off somewhere undefined with him again.

  He said, “If you don’t go—if you’re dead—you’ll never get the choice to run your business again.”

  He zipped her bag closed.

  She blinked at him, licked her lips, somehow found her breath. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “Then I’m taking you, if I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out to the truck.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Don’t force my hand, Katelyn. I’m serious.”

  She tried to shoulder by him. He launched an arm around her waist, bent his knees, and lifted, tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She struggled to free herself, to no avail. He picked up the small bag he’d stuffed with her clothing. He already had an extra pair of jeans and a couple of T-shirts stored in the truck for himself.

  “Let me down!” She banged on his back.

  “Agree to be reasonable.”

  “Like hell I will!”

  Without another word, he left her apartment and stormed through the lobby.

  “Katelyn!” Natalie sounded even more shocked now than she had a few minutes ago.

  “Call the police!” Katelyn said. “Tell them I’m being kidnapped!”

  “Kidnapped?” Natalie repeated. “Really?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m saving her life,” Thorne countered. “Disappearing until the police jail a killer. Tell Tansy the café is hers until this ordeal is over. And don’t let anyone take out that boat.”

  Katelyn fought him all the way to the truck, where he threw her in the passenger seat, then stuck his face in hers, which was distorted by her anger.

  “Just know that if you try to get out of the truck,” he told her calmly, “I will hog-tie you to keep you here.”

  With that he backed up and slammed the door.

  She didn’t try to get out while he made his way around to the driver’s side.

  He’d barely opened the door when she said, “I’m going to make you sorry you ever met me, Thorne Hudson.”

  Nice threat. “I’ll be looking forward to it. Should be interesting to see how creative you can really be.”

  He saw her eyeing the glove compartment and knew she was thinking about the gun inside. “Don’t bother. It’s locked.”

  Katelyn let go a small sob of frustration and wrapped her arms around her middle. Thorne had no time for pity. He took off from the lot and headed west on the road, going around the lake the long way. He was past Fontana when he saw a dark sedan in his rearview mirror, where it stayed all the way to
Williams Bay. Just as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone. Within minutes he was on a road that would take them north.

  “Back to Prairie Springs?” she asked.

  “Would that be a likely choice?”

  “Apparently not. How far are you taking me this time?”

  “As far north as necessary to get lost.”

  In reality, he knew of a place a couple hours north of here where they could do that, though going so far was probably unwarranted. No one was following them. They could hide out in any little burg along the way.

  Thorne watched the road behind them, sparsely dotted with other vehicles. When he was certain all was well, he pulled to the side and brought the truck to a fast stop.

  “What are we doing?”

  “You’re making that report to the authorities.” He unlocked the glove compartment, pulled out the burner phone, and then relocked the chamber. No way would he give her access to his handgun, just in case she got some crazy idea in her head to threaten him with it to make him turn around and go back to Lake Geneva. Accidents did happen. “Here.” He handed her the cellphone. “Call Cole.”

  “I don’t have his number memorized. I have it on my phone.”

  “Your phone is traceable, which is why I removed the battery and did the same with my phone. I added both Weaver’s and Cole’s numbers to the burner. Now, call!”

  Chapter 13

  Thorne started up the truck and took off. Katelyn seethed for a moment before doing as he ordered and putting through the call. She set the phone on speaker just as the detective picked up.

  “Cole here.”

  “Detective Cole, this is Katelyn Wade. Thorne Hudson is listening in, as well.”

  “Ms. Wade. I was just looking for you here on your property. Your guest-house manager had some interesting things to say about your leaving the premises. Are you all right?”

  She hesitated only a second before casting a sideways glance in Thorne’s direction. “I’ve been better. But for all intents and purposes, yes, I’m fine.”

  “In case you need clarification about our departure,” Thorne said, “I forced Katelyn to leave Lake Geneva for her own safety. I’m a bodyguard her father hired to see to her welfare.”

  “Well, now, that’s something you could have shared earlier, Mr. Hudson.”

  “Are you kidding?” Katelyn said. “He didn’t even share that information with me!”

  With that, she swung straight into the tale of almost being run over by that speedboat earlier. Almost drowning. To her credit, she generously added that Thorne had pulled her from the brink—something else she owed him—before going into a description of the boat.

  “What about the driver? Can you describe him or her?”

  “Not a clue,” Katelyn said. “The sun was glaring off the boat’s windshield, so I never got a clear view of the person behind it.”

  “What about you, Mr. Hudson?”

  “As Katelyn told you, it all happened really fast. I never got a good look at the person, either. I couldn’t even guess size, since he was hunched over in his seat, half hidden by the windshield, and wearing dark glasses and a baseball cap.”

  “I do have some other new information for you that I’ve already shared with the FBI,” Katelyn said.

  “Concerning the Bascom College shooting,” Thorne added.

  “Right. It’s about three of the victims.” Katelyn relayed what they’d learned from Thorne’s Chicago investigator friend. “The Hills’ mother’s maiden name was Eklund. I have a customer, Gerard Eklund, who was around the café every day it was open last week. It seems that he’s very interested not only in Sam’s death, but also in the campus shooting. And in Robert Hamilton being my father, though I have no idea of how he put that one together. Plus he showed up in Prairie Springs yesterday, where Thorne and I were taking a break.” She didn’t think it was necessary to tell the detective that she had been running from Thorne when she bumped into Eklund. “I figured his being there was a coincidence, but now I’m not so certain.”

  “I can understand why. I’ll give Special Agent Ortiz another call, see where she is with this information. In the meantime, we’re continuing the search for anything that would lead us to the scene of Gilbert’s death.”

  “Yes, of course.” Katelyn paused for a second and then, after swallowing hard, asked, “Did you find sunglasses on Sam?”

  “Sunglasses?”

  “Yes. He’d forgotten them the last day he worked. He called about them last Monday, when the café was closed.” The last time she’d spoken to him. The sorrow she felt at his loss was as sharp as it had been the night they’d learned he was dead. “I found the sunglasses and left them someplace he could get them after I was gone.”

  “So you’re saying he did pick them up.”

  “I assume so. They weren’t there when I got home,” she said. “I checked. So if something happened to him that night, he would have had them with him.”

  “No sunglasses on his person, Ms. Wade. They could be sitting on the bottom of the lake somewhere. Or they could still be at the scene of the crime.”

  That thought had occurred to her, and it stayed with her for a very long time after the call ended. Then all she had to do was stare at an increasing number of trees whipping by as they headed north. Thorne, a driving machine, didn’t even consider stopping for coffee or a bathroom until she insisted on both.

  Back on the road a few minutes later, swirling her coffee in the paper cup to cool it down, she couldn’t believe she was going to be alone with Thorne Hudson again, stuck somewhere far away from home. She should have taken off with her father, as he’d wanted. Maybe then her time with Thorne at the Westergard cabin wouldn’t be haunting her now.

  The best day of her life…

  Would she ever experience a day of sheer happiness and undeniable pleasure again?

  Not with him.

  She might be able to trust Thorne Hudson with her life, but she couldn’t trust anything else about him.

  And she certainly couldn’t trust him with her heart.

  —

  After stopping at a fast-food place for a quick meal, Thorne picked up a bag of groceries because he was taking her to that cabin in the far-north woods.

  Isolated.

  Safe.

  Romantic, if she could only get over her anger with him.

  Why couldn’t Katelyn try to see his side of things? Hamilton had said she was as stubborn and independent as her mother. Her parents had loved each other, but obviously that hadn’t been enough to keep them together. Look how badly the relationship had turned out for them. Thorne couldn’t imagine things going any differently for him and Katelyn.

  Even so, he had to try. He would take whatever he could get, even if it was only one more day of her not looking at him as if he was something she’d scraped from the bottom of her sandal.

  Right now, she was standing next to the open passenger door of his truck, gazing around at the thick woods in every direction. Her features were slack with shock. “No one will ever find us out here.”

  “That’s the idea.”

  He reached inside the truck. Unlocking the glove compartment, he removed the handgun. Her eyes widened as he stuck it into his waistband behind his back.

  “Then why do you need a gun?” she asked.

  Keeping it light, he said, “Bobcat? Wolf? Bear?”

  She shuddered. “I’m pretty much a city girl at heart, but I don’t want any animal dead because of me.”

  “Noise that will scare wild animals away is the idea here.” Aiming the gun would be a very different thing, one reserved for killing a killer. Which, of course, he hoped would never happen. But that depended on the authorities getting to him first. He went to the back of the truck and fetched the bags, threw hers to her, which she caught on reflex, then blinked at him in surprise. With his free arm, he scooped up the bag of groceries and headed away from the truck. “Let’s check out the cabin.”

 
“Aren’t you going to give me a story about this property?” she taunted him.

  “Just that it was recommended as a great place to hide out.”

  “By another former employer?”

  It had been a work acquaintance, but he figured he was best off just dropping it there. She obviously wanted to fight with him, whereas he just wanted her.

  He wanted her pliant and willing and eager for him.

  He wanted to feel her wet and slick and tight around him.

  He wanted to hear her sob and cry out and whisper his name like she was so lovesick nothing he could do to her would ever be too much.

  Those were the thoughts driving him as he opened the unlocked cabin door and led the way into the single room, where he dropped his clothes bag on the edge of the bed.

  “Well, this is certainly”—Katelyn hesitated for a second as she took a good look around—“different from the other place.” She pressed her bag against her chest and clung to it as if for protection.

  “It has everything we need to get by for a couple of days,” Thorne pointed out. “A potbellied stove to cook our food.” He set down the bag of groceries on a small table near it. “This table to eat on. A couple of chairs to sit on. A bed to sleep in.”

  Setting down her bag, she said, “Uh, there’s only one bed.”

  “That’s all we need.”

  “Because you’ll be sleeping on the floor.”

  “Dream on. If anyone is sleeping on the floor, it won’t be me. But you can do as you like as long as it’s within these four walls.”

  Her gaze shot from timbered wall to timbered wall to timbered wall to timbered wall. “Wait a minute. There’s only one door.”

  “Your point?”

  “Where is the bathroom?”

  “You mean the outhouse.” Somehow, he kept from laughing at her horrified expression, because he was certain that she would be offended if he did let go even a small snort. “Take the path around back, away from the truck. The well is out back, too. If you want to wash up, you’ll have to pump the water yourself.”

  “Is this a joke?”

  She looked a bit more freaked out than he’d thought she would.

  “Um, no, the outhouse and pump are real.”