Fugitive Bride

by Paula Graves

  “My life is so upended right now and I honestly can’t understand why.” She raked her fingers through her spiky hair, looking faintly surprised to find it so short. “I mean, intellectually, I can understand that someone wants to get his hands on something I know, and I also get that it’s information that’s dangerous for someone with bad intentions to know. But like I said earlier, I’m sure what I know has already been changed by my company. I’m as out of the loop now as anyone else.”

  “Is there anything you knew that could still be dangerous if someone else knew it?” he asked, glad for the change of subject. Despite his declaration to Tara about cutting the cord between them, he wasn’t any more eager to do so than she was.

  “I honestly don’t think so. Whoever’s taking over my job now that I’m gone is probably far more in danger for what he or she knows than I am now.”

  Owen frowned. “You think your bosses would already have put someone in your position?”

  “I’m sure they have. It’s not a job that can go unfilled for long, especially with the upcoming symposium details having to be changed so close to the planned time of the event.”

  So there was now someone else who knew the details of the symposium, Owen thought. Who was in the job only because Tara was now unavailable.

  “What would happen if you went back to Mercerville and managed to get yourself cleared of Robert’s murder?” he asked. “Would you get your job back?”

  “If my bosses were satisfied that all the charges against me were bogus, I’d say yes. We had a good relationship and I was good at the job.”

  “Even if they’d already replaced you?”

  “I think so. It would be hard for someone to come in and learn my job in a few weeks, much less a few days. What I did, nobody else in the company duplicated.”

  “So how did they find someone to replace you?”

  She seemed to give it some thought. “I guess they would have promoted my main assistant, although he wouldn’t be able to pick up everything I was doing very quickly. It was a pretty complex system, with lots of security protocols in place. Plus, I had a more personal relationship with the people we were inviting to the symposium than anyone else in my section would have. That kind of interpersonal connection can be hard to maintain. Lots of personalities and egos involved.”

  Owen nodded. “Who is your primary assistant?”

  “Chris Miller.”

  Owen pulled out his phone and typed in a text to Quinn.

  “What are you doing?” Tara asked.

  “Telling Quinn to do a deep background check on Chris Miller.”

  “You think Chris is involved in this mess?”

  “I don’t know,” Owen admitted. “But we have to look at all the angles. Maybe the real reason Robert was killed was to make sure you couldn’t go back to your job before the symposium began.”

  “Because I would be a suspect.”

  “We couldn’t figure out why they kidnapped you. Maybe that’s why.”

  “I thought they wanted to get the information out of me.”

  “Which would have been far messier than just making sure you were a suspect in a murder and unsuitable for classified work.”

  Tara cocked her head. “So by staying out here on the run, we’re actually playing into the hands of the people who kidnapped me and maybe even killed Robert?”

  “Maybe we are.”

  “So why is your boss making sure we stay where we are?”

  That, Owen thought, was a good question. Alexander Quinn had a way of positioning his own allies as pawns in a bigger game. He would do everything possible to protect them, but sometimes collateral damage happened. An unfortunate but inescapable result of the high-stakes game Quinn and the people at Campbell Cove Security played.

  “I guess maybe he’s already figured out what’s going on,” Tara murmured, her eyes narrowed with thought. “Maybe Chris Miller is already on Quinn’s radar.”

  Owen wouldn’t be surprised if that were true. “But if he is, can he move fast enough to stop whatever plot is underfoot?”

  “I don’t know. It all depends on whether they moved the symposium back or up.”

  “What do you think they did?” Owen asked. “If you could read the minds of your company officers?”

  “Up,” she said after a moment more of thought. “If they moved the symposium up rather than back, it wouldn’t leave bad actors much time to put their plot together.”

  “All the more reason to keep you on the run. Even if you went back now, you’d have to work through all the red tape and the explanations of why you fled in the first place. You wouldn’t have time to get back to your job before the symposium took place.”

  Tara’s lips twisted with irritation. “Damn.”

  Owen lifted his eyebrows at her curse.

  One side of her mouth curled up in amusement at his reaction. “Sorry, but sometimes a profanity is the only word that’ll do.”

  “So, what do you think we should do next?” he asked.

  Her green-eyed gaze lifted to meet his, full of determination. “I think it’s time to go home.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “So Ty Miller works evenings?” Archer Trask peered through his windshield, sunlight glaring off the back windshield of the vehicle in front of him. The rain that had soaked the area the previous night was long gone, replaced by blinding sunlight and rising temperatures.

  “That’s right,” the receptionist on the other end of the line replied.

  Ahead of him, the light turned green and traffic started to move. Trask put his phone in the hands-free holder. “What about Friday evening? Was he working Friday?”

  “Let me check the schedule.” There was a brief pause, and then she answered, “No, he was off Friday and Saturday.”

  “Is he working tonight?”

  “Yes. He’s scheduled to work every night through Friday of this week.”

  Trask grimaced. “Okay, thank you.” He ended the call and stared at the road ahead, frustrated. So far, his brother’s alibi seemed to be holding, although Trask hadn’t gotten far. For one thing, he didn’t want Virgil to know what he was doing, because his brother would certainly want to know why he was trying to establish his alibi.

  And for another, he wasn’t sure he should be giving any credence to the story Heller had told him in the first place. It was a secondhand, maybe even thirdhand story from a pair of people who were currently on the run from the law. Some people, including his boss the sheriff, might not appreciate him spending time trying to prove his brother’s innocence when there was an actual murder case on his plate.

  The problem was, Trask was pretty sure Robert Mallory’s murder was connected to whatever had happened to Tara Bentley the day of her wedding. He no longer thought she’d willingly left the church. But that left a lot of possibilities open, possibilities that didn’t necessarily involve kidnapping.

  Maybe Owen Stiles had spirited her away, not willing to watch her marry another man. Everyone seemed certain they were just friends, but Archer knew it was hard to keep sex out of the equation, friends or not. Tara Bentley was a healthy, attractive woman, and Owen Stiles was a healthy, reasonably good-looking man. The situation was ripe for sexual tension.

  Had Stiles killed Mallory? Of the two fugitives, he seemed the more likely suspect. Jealousy, possessiveness, lust, obsession—all potential motives for murder.

  But if he’d murdered Tara’s fiancé, why was she still with Stiles? Was her friendship stronger than her love for and loyalty to the man she planned to marry? Or had she been the one whose feelings transcended friendship?

  He rubbed his head as he reached the intersection with Old Cumberland Highway. If he turned left, he’d be heading back toward Mercerville and the sheriff’s department, where t
hree days’ worth of paperwork awaited him. If he turned right, he’d end up in Cumberland, not far from Kingdom Come State Park.

  He wondered if anyone in the area remembered seeing his brother and Ty Miller at the camping area outside the park the previous Friday.

  When the light turned green and traffic started to move again, Trask signaled a right-hand turn.

  * * *

  “ARE YOU GOING TO tell Quinn what we’re doing?” Tara looked up from stashing the last of the supplies in the duffel and stretched her back. “Because I don’t think he’s going to be happy that we’re changing the plan he’s working, whatever it is.”

  “Too bad. It’s not his life. It’s ours.” With his usual precision, Owen folded the tent into a tidy square. He crossed to where she stood and slipped it inside the duffel before zipping it shut.

  He stood close enough that she caught a whiff of the soap he’d used earlier when they risked heading into the more crowded camping area to use the campground’s shower facilities. Not for the first time, she’d spent her shower time trying not to think of Owen naked under the spray of his own shower, water sluicing down his chest to catch briefly in the narrow line of hair that bisected his abdomen before dipping farther south.

  But her imagination had seemed so much more potent, so much harder to deny, now that she’d actually felt his fingers against her flesh, moving with sexy determination, making her shiver with need.

  Was this how it was for him, too? This trembling ache in her core when she looked at him, the way even his voice could send little flutters of awareness up and down her spine?

  She was beginning to understand why he’d snapped earlier this morning. Wanting something you knew you could never have was painful. The pain didn’t go away just because you were the one putting up all the obstacles, as she was coming to understand. Was it even worse when you were the person who wanted all the obstacles to disappear?

  She had to clear her throat before she spoke. “It’s probably better if we don’t give him any forewarning.”

  “You do realize he knows exactly where we are, don’t you?” Owen met her troubled gaze. “All of the Campbell Cove Security vehicles have GPS trackers on them.”

  “Even his personal vehicle?”

  “Even his personal vehicle. While we were in the general camping area, I logged on to my computer and went through one of my back doors at the company to check the GPS monitoring. There we were, one stationary red dot on the map.”

  “So when we start heading back to Kentucky—”

  “Quinn will know,” Owen finished for her. He picked up the duffel and took a quick look around the campsite area to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything. They’d already packed all the other supplies, including the camp stove, into the back of the SUV. “But we should have a few hours of travel before he starts getting suspicious. Should we be planning our next moves during that time?”

  “Probably should be,” Tara agreed as she followed him through the undergrowth to the rocky path where the SUV was parked. “Except I’m not sure I know what those next moves should be.”

  “You don’t think the first thing we should do is turn ourselves in?” He put the duffel in the back of the SUV and turned to look at Tara. “Isn’t that the best way to get you reinstated at Security Solutions?”

  “Theoretically, yes. But what if it doesn’t work? What if we’re locked away and nobody believes us? We need proof of our theory, and the only way to get that is to—”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “We have to break in to my office.”

  Owen shook his head. “Your office, which has probably had security doubled or tripled over the past few days? That office?”

  “Yes. You’re right, they’ve almost certainly hardened the security, but they’re trying to keep terrorists out, not me.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “Okay, I guess it’s possible they’re trying to keep me out, as well. But either way, they’re not trying to keep you out.”

  “Tara, I don’t know anything about your company’s security measures.”

  “You don’t know yet. But you’ve spent the past few years as a white hat hacker, haven’t you?”

  “That’s not what I call it.”

  “But it’s what you are, right?” He gave a slight nod, and she pushed ahead, the idea making more sense the longer it percolated in her head. “With my knowledge of the company and its general protocols, and your knowledge of computer systems, I’m betting we can get inside the office building without being detected. Even at code red security, only certain areas of the building will be under twenty-four-hour surveillance.”

  “It seems to me that any part of the company where we might be able to discover anything helpful would be one of those areas of the building.” Owen nodded toward the driver’s door. “You want to drive or do you want me to?”

  “You drove all the way here. I’ll drive back. Maybe you could catch up on some sleep.”

  He looked skeptical as he climbed into the passenger seat.

  While he buckled in, she addressed his previous protest. “You’re right that the parts of the building where the most top secret material is kept will be under constant surveillance. But my office isn’t one of those spaces. I went to the classified material when I needed it. I didn’t take it out of its place of safekeeping.”

  “So your office won’t be considered a high security risk area.”

  “Exactly.”

  “If that’s so, how does getting into that area help us?”

  “Because Chris Miller and I shared office space. Not right on top of each other, but in the same section. If I’m able to successfully get into my office undetected, I may be able to get into his office and see if there’s anything incriminating to find.”

  “Do you expect there to be?” Owen asked curiously.

  She considered the question carefully. “Honestly, I don’t know. The only thing about Chris Miller that’s ever given me pause is that he’s a little too friendly.”

  Owen frowned at her. “Friendly how?”

  She glanced at Owen. “Not that kind of friendly. I just mean, he doesn’t have a suspicious bone in his body, which is weird for a guy who works in security. I’ve had to warn him about phishing emails, that kind of thing. He opened an email not too long ago and nearly let loose a virus in our system. I figured out what he’d done just in time to warn our IT guys and they stopped the program before it could open up any holes in our cybersecurity.”

  “How does he even keep his job? For that matter, why on earth would he be next in line for your job?”

  She made a face. “Nepotism. Chris’s uncle is the founder of our firm.”

  “Maybe he’s the weak spot in your company’s security without even knowing it,” Owen suggested. “Someone could be using him. Manipulating him to get the information they want.”

  “More likely than not,” she agreed. “Which is why I need to get into the office and see what he’s been up to. It might help me find out if anyone has been trying to exploit his position to get secure information.”

  Owen remained silent for a long time while they headed southwest on I-81 to Abingdon. Only as they exited the interstate and began heading due west toward Kentucky did he speak again. “You realize if we get caught, it will make it nearly impossible to prove our innocence.”

  “I know. But it may be our only chance to find out what’s really going on and who’s behind it in time to stop whatever they’re planning. That’s reason enough to take the risk, don’t you think?”

  As Tara braked at a traffic light, Owen reached across the space between them and touched her face with the back of his hand. “Has anyone ever told you what a brave person you are?”

  She stared back at him, a shiver running thro
ugh her at his touch. For a moment, as their gazes locked and the air in the SUV’s cab grew warm and thick, she found herself wondering if she’d made the wrong choice all those years ago when she felt the tug of attraction to Owen and ruthlessly subdued it. What if he was right? What if they could have everything? Their deep and enduring friendship and the heady promise of intense passion?

  Wasn’t that what everyone really wanted? To have it all?

  The traffic light changed to green. Owen dropped his hand away from her cheek and nodded for her to drive on.

  She headed west on Porterfield Highway, feeling chilled and unsettled.

  * * *

  WORKING FOR A small law enforcement agency had its benefits and its drawbacks. For the most part, Archer Trask liked the slower pace of his job at the Bagley County Sheriff’s Department. There was enough petty crime to keep him busy most of the time, and in such a small place, he generally got to know the citizens he helped as people rather than impersonal names and case file numbers, the way he had done when he worked a couple of years in the Louisville Police Department before returning home to Bagley County.

  But one of the drawbacks of working for a small agency was the glacial pace at which the wheels of information gathering turned. Which was why it had taken almost a day for a simple background information request about the security company where Ty Miller worked to make its way to his email inbox.

  He had just spent a frustrating hour trying to track down anyone in the Cumberland area who might have seen his brother and Ty Miller up near Looney Creek on Friday, but the problem was, Kingdom Come State Park wouldn’t open until the first of April, and most of the people who weren’t park visitors had been too busy at their own places of work on Friday to notice if a couple of middle-aged men had wandered by with fly rods and tackle boxes that day.

  In fact, he had begun to think he’d wasted a whole day chasing a false lead when his phone pinged with the email notification. He pulled over onto the shoulder and checked the message. It was from Don Robbins, the deputy he’d assigned to dig up background information on Cumberland Security Staffing.