His Deception

by Patricia Rosemoor

  Despite the fact that touching her impersonally was killing him, he grabbed her hand and tugged her back toward the cabin.

  “Okay, but where are we going?”

  “Anywhere away from here.”

  “Will anywhere be safe?” she asked, her voice subdued.

  Remembering his promise to himself, Thorne said, “If Eklund is still around and tries to follow us, it will be his funeral.”

  —

  The reality of her situation weighed heavily on Katelyn as the truck whipped through the dark to some unknown destination. Her father had been right all along, but she’d been too independent to give his fears for her safety any credence.

  She was lucky to be alive.

  Lucky to be with Thorne Hudson.

  A quick glance his way told her he was avoiding looking at her. His gaze was glued to the road ahead. Any feelings he had for her were fully in check.

  Good. That’s the way she wanted it, she told herself.

  But the longer they were heading west, the less convinced she was of that. She hadn’t forgotten the real reason she’d left the bed and the cabin in the first place. She’d been too drawn to Thorne, had wanted him too much—not that she would ever admit that to him.

  She looked down at her hands. Even in the near darkness, she could see the filth on them. Ash from the fire. Her clothes were blackened, as well. Brushing a hand through her hair released a cloud of dark dust. She closed her eyes and turned her face so she wouldn’t choke on it. The smell brought back a vivid memory of the fear she’d felt while hiding from her attacker.

  Eklund. It had to be him. She kept playing that conversation they’d had in the car over and over in her mind. He’d drilled her for information, had wanted to know if the authorities had decided Sam’s death was a murder. Because he’d killed Sam?

  They’d been on the road about a half hour when Thorne turned off it. She hadn’t seen a sign indicating that there was a motel nearby. Or even a gas station where she could wash up in the restroom.

  “Where are we headed?” she asked.

  “There’s a state park ahead. We’ll camp out in the back of the truck.”

  “But all the parks are closed for the night.”

  “Campgrounds are. But the back roads are open. Don’t worry, we’re not going to enter any campground.”

  Which means no shower, she thought. She looked down at her soot-blackened arms. “I’m going to need to wash up. Me and my clothes. I didn’t realize how filthy I was.” Luckily, he’d made her pack a change of clothing. And had added clean undergarments as a bonus. Now the thought made her smile. Just a little. “You, too. You’re streaked with ashes from holding me.”

  “That’s the last thing I’m worried about.”

  “Anyone who sees us will know something is wrong,” she insisted. “They’ll have questions.”

  “But we don’t have to give them answers.”

  She didn’t want to argue with Thorne. She just wanted this to be over. Two attacks in one day was more than she could stand.

  He went on. “We’re just going to head in on a back road and find a place to hide out for the rest of the night.”

  “If we do and they catch us, couldn’t we get arrested?”

  “If we don’t and Eklund finds us, you could get killed.”

  That pronouncement was emphasized by a rumble of thunder. And in the distance, the sky blinked with an eye-popping flash.

  “Rain is coming.”

  “Even better cover,” he said, turning off onto what looked like a park road. There was a hint of amusement in his tone when he added, “If it rains, you won’t have to worry about finding a place to wash up. All you’ll have to do is step out of the truck.”

  The thought of showering in the open where he could see her made her squirm in her seat, but she didn’t argue the point. There was something thrilling about the idea, as well.

  Within a hundred yards of entering the state park, she spotted a long, narrow ribbon of water cutting through a wooded area. A creek. It curved and disappeared into a stand of trees. Thorne took the truck off-road and carefully drove nearly to the water’s edge. Another nearby lightning bolt lit up the area. Bushes and tall grasses would hide them from anyone who might drive by.

  Thorne got out and opened the back of the truck. Katelyn followed suit.

  “I have a sleeping bag and some sheets,” he said. “While I set them up as a makeshift bed back here, you can wash up in the creek.”

  Her and her clothes. Thankfully, he’d made her pack that bag. “You wouldn’t have a towel, would you?” she asked.

  “Right here.”

  Grabbing one from where he’d stuffed it at the side of the truck, he held it out to her. Their hands touched, but he didn’t immediately let go. The contact sparked something inside her that left her a little shaky. The way he was looking at her, she knew he must be feeling it, as well.

  Why wouldn’t he let go of the towel?

  Why was he hauling on it to bring it closer to him, and her along with it?

  Why was she letting him?

  They were still both clinging to the towel that bound them together when he dipped his head and claimed her mouth.

  Suddenly forgotten, the towel dropped between them as they wrapped their arms around each other. A mistake? she couldn’t help but wonder. Nor could she keep herself from responding to the embrace. Barely an hour ago, she’d wondered if she would survive her attacker. Now, when Thorne began stripping off her top and bra, there was something primitive about the way he did it. And about the way she responded. She practically ripped his T-shirt off him.

  An inner voice warned her that she shouldn’t do this, that she would regret it in the morning.

  Then lightning struck again, casting everything around them in a spooky blue clarity, making her wonder if there would be a morning for them, or if the danger chasing them would catch up and finish them both before the sun even rose. The thought left her with a sense of urgency, a need to act, but they stood frozen, staring at each other, both breathing hard, until suddenly the first drops of rain splashed down on them.

  Taking the lead, Thorne unzipped her jeans. “I guess you won’t need to bathe in the creek, after all.”

  Katelyn couldn’t help but snort as he finished undressing her, the storm rumbling ever closer.

  The rain pelting her naked flesh fueled unexpected desire in her, and she stripped Thorne with equal speed. Rivulets of water dirty with the remnants of the burn rolled down their bodies. From the back of the truck, Thorne produced a bottle of liquid body soap and squeezed some on her head and shoulders, then sloshed it along her skin to suds her up all over. She used her soapy body to wash his, after which they used their seductively stroking hands to squeegee each other clean by flicking away the foaming rainwater.

  Thorne nuzzled her ear. “Still want that towel?”

  Shivering from the warmth of his mouth on her flesh, Katelyn could think of a dozen other things she wanted more. “I think that ship has sailed.” She pointed to the dropped cloth in a growing puddle of water at the back of the truck. “Or it’s about to sail.”

  “I have others. Dry ones.”

  “Let’s keep them that way for now.”

  “What do you have in mind, then?” he murmured.

  Something she wouldn’t have thought she would want again after learning about Thorne’s true purpose in coming to Lake Geneva. Somehow, danger chasing them changed everything. Made everything more immediate. More impossible to lose. She raised her face so the rain kissed her and ran down her nose and cheeks and elsewhere in sensual rivulets.

  Locking gazes with Thorne, she finally said, “I thought it would be a shame to waste such a unique opportunity.”

  “That it would be,” he agreed. “Then what are we waiting for?”

  They came together as fiercely as the storm around them. Katelyn wrapped her arms around Thorne’s neck and, when he lifted her, her legs around his waist. He
backed her into the side of the truck and with a hitch that adjusted his position, drove himself into her. She cried out and sank along his full length.

  Pulling away from the truck, he moved in and out of her. Katelyn tilted her hips to give him better access.

  When he stopped alongside the truck’s hood, he whispered, “Let go.”

  “I am letting go! Of everything!”

  His hands were hooked around her waist. “I mean of my neck.” When she did so, he added, “Now just relax.”

  He eased her backward, so her back was arched over the hood of the truck, still connected to him below the waist, still holding him fast with her thighs muscling around his. Light droplets of rain popped along her breasts and belly, but it was his fingers finding her center as his cock pulsed into her that sent her skyrocketing with sensation.

  Her back arched, and with more of a wail than a cry, she sat up and reattached her torso to Thorne, nearly smothering him with a kiss that spoke of her wild abandon. His shout of approval was muffled by her mouth, but there was no mistaking the reason for it. The added sensation of his orgasm immediately reenergized her and she came again.

  Afterward, they clung together until the rain eventually stopped.

  Katelyn hated it when Thorne stepped back and withdrew from being snugged within her depths.

  This hadn’t just been sex.

  She wished it could have been so simple. She would be so much less confused.

  Despite his deception, Katelyn realized she was still in love with Thorne Hudson.

  The problem was that she didn’t have any idea what she was going to do about it.

  —

  Somehow, comforted by his warmth surrounding her, Katelyn had slept for at least a few hours, even though the back of a truck didn’t make the most comfortable bed. Now a familiar noise pulled her up from the depths of exhaustion. Her eyes blinked open to gray morning light. The sun was up, but the sky still threatened storms.

  And Thorne’s burner cellphone was ringing.

  Pulling out of the cocoon he’d made of his body to shelter her, she scrabbled to fetch the cell from a pocket in his discarded jeans.

  “What’s going on?” he grumbled as she got a look at the ID.

  “It’s my father.” Accepting the call, she said, “Daddy, why are you calling so early? What’s going on?” and clicked on speakerphone.

  “The police have made two arrests. They nailed the shooter. Gus Pratt was holed up in some abandoned farmhouse. They got a confession out of him.”

  “About time.” Elated, she asked, “What about the other arrest?” expecting to hear they’d also got Eklund.

  So his saying “Aaron Starkman” shocked her.

  “Not Gerard Eklund?”

  “No. Pratt admitted Starkman sold him the assault rifle because he said he needed the money to pay a gambling debt. Apparently his life was threatened if he didn’t come up with the money. Pratt and Starkman were old acquaintances. It didn’t take much pressure to get Starkman to admit to it. Of course, he claimed Pratt told him he wanted the assault rifle for hunting.”

  Pressed up against her, Thorne rubbed her arm as if comforting her. “What about Eklund’s relationship to the mother of the Hill brother and sister?” he asked. “Did the FBI check that out?”

  “They did. Apparently, Abby Hill is some very distant cousin. She said she hadn’t even seen Eklund since they were kids. Police asked the ex-husband about the relationship, and he’d never even met the man, so the mother’s story held up.”

  “That means they still don’t have the person who sent you those emails or killed Sam or came after me,” Katelyn said, her initial elation waning.

  “Yes, they do, Katie. It was Starkman all along.”

  Shocked to the core, Katelyn asked, “Aaron admitted it?”

  “No, not to that part, but those charges were brought against him, as well. He was in Milwaukee on both days the emails were sent. Plus they caught him lurking around your property just before dawn, which is when they made the arrest. He of course said he just wanted to talk to you, to reason with you so you wouldn’t ruin things with me.”

  “Or to keep me quiet about his gambling problem. He had someone after him last year when I broke up with him. So he was in Lake Geneva this morning.” Had he driven from the cabin to Lakeside to wait to attack her again?

  “They also knew he was there yesterday morning, so it’s likely he was the one trying to run you down with the speedboat. It was stolen from its dock and then found adrift later that afternoon. They’re trying to match up fingerprints now. They already checked Starkman’s I-PASS records for Illinois toll roads and found that he’s been driving back and forth from Chicago to Wisconsin on a regular basis this whole last week. The authorities say he had the opportunity to kill Sam Gilbert, as well, though they haven’t brought that charge against him because they haven’t nailed down the scene of the murder. Even so, you can breathe now, Katie.”

  “Oh, my God, it’s over?” She couldn’t keep the question out of her voice.

  “Thankfully,” Thorne said, pulling her close and nuzzling his cheek against hers.

  “You can go home. Or you could take a break from the place and come to Chicago and stay with me for a while.”

  For once, the invitation was tempting. If it would only be the two of them, she might take him up on it. But she wasn’t ready to deal with the tensions that were always present when she was around his other family.

  “Thanks, Daddy. You know how much I love you. But I have things to take care of in Lake Geneva.”

  Including figuring out what she was going to do about Thorne Hudson.

  “If you change your mind, just say the word.”

  She only wished she could make up her mind. While she was on the phone, Katelyn didn’t try to move away from Thorne, but she was already questioning herself about what had happened between them the night before. He was a man without a professed home, and it seemed he didn’t want one. His job protecting her was over, so he would likely be leaving Lake Geneva, perhaps at the first opportunity.

  Maybe there wasn’t anything for her to decide, after all.

  Chapter 15

  All the way back to Lake Geneva, Thorne thought the dark, cloud-laden sky perfectly reflected Katelyn’s stormy mood. She hadn’t spoken to him in nearly an hour. She’d been a more than enthusiastic participant in their lovemaking last night, but now she seemed distant. Was she regretting turning to him already? He would have thought her father’s news would have put her in a better mood.

  He’d tuned the truck’s radio to a local news station that broadcast a special edition covering the Bascom shooting and subsequent arrests.

  He saw her grimace when the newscaster said, “Aaron Starkman allegedly had a previous personal relationship with multimillionaire Robert Hamilton’s daughter Katelyn Wade, Lake Geneva businesswoman and owner of Lakeside Guest House and Café. Starkman is also charged with attempted murder for an attack on Wade.”

  “Oh, my God,” Katelyn whispered. “Exactly what I was afraid of. Now everyone will know who I am.”

  “Why is that a bad thing? You love your father and he adores you.” He would give anything to have that kind of relationship with someone. With her. “I would think you’d be proud of that.”

  “I am proud of our relationship. I also hoped to keep it private. I’m not one for the spotlight.”

  With that, Katelyn seemed to sink deeper into herself, shutting Thorne out completely.

  When they finally arrived home, a cadre of news vehicles were gathered along the driveway of the Lakeside lot, which was half-filled with cars despite the early hour. Apparently, the police had given up their search for the crime scene and left. Though, judging by the dark clouds and frequent gusts of wind, another bout of rain was imminent, reporters were waiting on her doorstep to interview her, and a throng of customers stood around as if eager to get a closer look at her.

  It took several minutes to get
the crowd to move aside so Thorne could pull up outside the guest house.

  “If you wait a minute,” he said, “I’ll go around and get your door, then I’ll escort you inside, away from the crowd.”

  She didn’t argue. Didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. The blood had drained from her face and she appeared to be on the verge of panic.

  When Thorne got out of the truck, the mob moved in on him. He didn’t let them stop him, didn’t even tune in to the litany of questions barraging him.

  “That’s Katelyn Wade you have with you, isn’t it?”

  He shouldered his way through the crowd to the passenger side.

  “Is she really Robert Hamilton’s daughter?”

  When he opened the door for Katelyn, he positioned himself to keep reporters as far away from her as he could.

  One of them stuck an arm around him, the microphone in his hand aimed at her, asking, “Is it true that you were attacked because of what happened at Bascom, Ms. Wade?”

  Wide-eyed, she froze. A crash of thunder rumbled, and the sky lit up unnaturally, a portent reflecting her increasing frazzle. Thorne shut the truck’s door and wrapped an arm around her. “Out of the way. Ms. Wade would like some privacy.” He then moved her through the crowd toward the guest-house entrance.

  The onslaught of questions continued anyway. Thorne tuned out. Though he didn’t push or shove, he held his free arm out to discourage anyone from getting too close. It was slow going, but once the clouds opened, pouring rain down on the crowd, the onlookers started to disperse and he finally got her inside.

  “Katelyn, thank goodness you’re back!” Natalie said. “The phone has been ringing off the hook, and it has been all I can do to keep those reporters and nosey people out of here.”

  “Thanks for holding down the fort, Natalie,” Katelyn said. “I couldn’t have gotten through the past couple days without you. I’ll get a full recap later, but right now, the only thing I want to do is take a hot shower and clear my head.” She moved toward her apartment, Thorne following close behind her.