Fugitive

by Shirlee McCoy

  “I don’t know.”

  Logan released the safety on the gun. “You’re sure?”

  “My boss, okay? Luke Martin.”

  “Who is he?”

  Silence, and Logan nudged him with the handgun.

  “I asked you a question.”

  “Militia leader.”

  “What’s the name of your group?”

  “Cascade Mountain Men,” he muttered.

  “I’ve heard of it.” But not of Martin. The group was closer to Seattle than Green Bluff, and their headquarters were about a hundred miles southwest of town. It was not a problem that Logan had ever had to deal with. “Why’d your boss send you?”

  “He wanted me to get some information.”

  “About me? I guess you got it.”

  “I have the tape.” Laney walked back into the room, and Logan locked the safety again, keeping the gun pressed against the masked man’s temple.

  “Start with his ankles.”

  “Me?” Her voice squeaked and her face was as pale as paper.

  “He won’t give you any trouble. Will you?”

  No response, so Logan ratcheted up the pressure on the guy’s arm, making sure he was too afraid of having it snap to move.

  “Done,” Laney finally said, her voice airy and weak.

  Logan shoved the gun back in his pocket, then twisted her attacker’s other arm back. “What’s your name?”

  Silence again.

  Apparently the guy thought that he was safe as long as Laney was in the room.

  He was safe anyway. No way would Logan have pulled the trigger. No matter how tempting it might have been.

  He wrapped duct tape around the guy’s wrists, then rolled him onto his back.

  “Your name?”

  The guy spat through the hole in the ski mask.

  “Spit again and I’ll knock you out,” Logan muttered, tearing the mask from his face and looking at a stranger.

  Blond hair. Black eyes that were both piercing and empty.

  Logan patted him down, pulling a cell phone from one pocket and a wallet from another and sliding an eight-inch boning knife from a sheath on his calf. The blade gleamed, sharp enough to cut through flesh like it was butter.

  Laney’s eyes widened, the darkening bruises on her cheek red-purple against her pale skin. An image of Laney as she’d been a decade ago, her eyes red from tears and her legs covered with welts, flashed into his head.

  He’d promised himself that he would get her out from her parents’ home and away from their abuse. He’d sworn that he wouldn’t let her ever be beaten again. That he’d protect her and make sure she had the kind of life she deserved.

  He’d failed.

  The same way he’d failed Amanda.

  That’s how it felt. No matter how many times he told himself that Laney was an adult, responsible for herself and capable of making her own decisions, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d done this to her. Brought his trouble into her life and created chaos out of the normalcy that was all she’d ever wanted.

  He tucked the knife into his boot and tried not to think about what would have happened if he hadn’t returned to the house.

  He opened the wallet and pulled out a driver’s license.

  Ronald Danvers from Tacoma. He dropped it onto the ground. The police could deal with Danvers. He wanted to be out of town, and he wanted it yesterday.

  “Grab whatever you think you might need for the next few days, Laney. We’re getting out of here.”

  “What—”

  “You have an overnight bag?”

  “Yes.”

  “Grab it and come right back.”

  She nodded and ran upstairs.

  “You can’t just leave me here,” Danvers said, the edge to his voice almost enough to make Logan smile. Leaving was exactly what Danvers didn’t want them to do. He probably had an accomplice waiting somewhere and a predetermined time to meet up again. That would explain the vehicle that had driven away—a drop off and a pick up.

  Only Danvers wouldn’t be there and Logan didn’t want his partner showing up at the house. Not while Laney was there.

  “Sure I can,” he said, moving away from the prone man.

  “Too chicken to stick around and ask the questions you need answers to?”

  “Too smart to think you got here on your own,” Logan replied.

  Danvers didn’t blink, his cold black eyes giving nothing away.

  It didn’t matter. Logan knew the truth, and he didn’t plan to wait around. He dialed 911 on Laney’s landline, giving his name and location, knowing that would get the police moving in fast. Let them come. He’d be long gone.

  So would Laney.

  He might not have wanted to involve her, but she was involved, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

  “I’m ready.” Laney reappeared, a duffel in her hand and her purse over her shoulder.

  He let the phone drop as the 911 operator asked him to stay on the line. “Come on.”

  Laney wanted to do what Logan asked, but her legs felt stiff and heavy and her body numb. Probably her cheek and jaw should ache, but she felt nothing.

  Her gaze dropped to the man on the floor, her mind jumping back to the moment when Logan had pulled the knife from his boot.

  She could have been killed with it.

  Easily.

  She shuddered.

  “It’s okay. Everything is going to be fine.” Logan tugged her coat closed and brushed hair from her cheek.

  Would it?

  She didn’t know, but she had no choice but to follow him out of the house and to her rental car.

  “Where are the keys?” Logan asked, and she dropped them into his hand, waiting while he unlocked the door and then climbing into the passenger seat. She was doing everything as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if she hadn’t just been attacked, beaten, nearly killed.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To find a ride out of town.”

  “We have a ride,” she pointed out, her voice still shaky. Her entire body shaky. She’d almost been killed, and now she was on the run with a man wanted by the police.

  “This is a rental, Laney. The police will spot it before we get a mile from your place.”

  “We’re not going to steal a car, are we?” she asked, half convinced that that was exactly what Logan planned.

  “No. I’m going to call a friend of mine. I hate to involve him more than he already is, but I don’t have a choice.” He pulled onto the old dirt road that bisected Laney’s property and connected the highway and an old, seldom-used country road.

  “I have my cell phone.” She dug it out of her purse, but Logan shook his head.

  “I don’t want any connection between you and my friend. No hard evidence that he has had any contact with me. Otherwise, he might end up in jail. We’ll use a pay phone. That way, the police might be able to prove that he got a call, but they won’t know who it was from.”

  “Right.” She hadn’t thought about that. Apparently she hadn’t thought about a lot of things.

  He pulled into a convenience store parking lot, jumped out and used a payphone. She waited, the sound of sirens drifting into the car. The police would be at her house soon. How long before they started hunting for her and Logan?

  Or were they already doing that?

  Officer Parsons had been at the house earlier. He’d seen her rental car, and he probably had written down the license plate number.

  A police car sped by, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Laney’s heart skipped a beat. It skipped another one when Logan got back in the car.

  “I’m going to park around back.”

 
“Park?”

  “We’re changing rides, but it’s going to be a couple of minutes before our transportation gets here. I don’t want the car to be visible from the road.” He pulled around to the back lot and parked in dark shadows at the edge of the pavement. Laney would have been happy to stay there, hidden by darkness and cocooned in the warmth of the car.

  Logan had other ideas.

  He got out, opened her door, grabbed her duffel and pulled her from the car.

  “Wouldn’t it be better—”

  “Trust me, okay? I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He led her around the side of the building. Lone bulbs glowed above restroom doors. Other than that, the area was dark.

  Laney shivered, sinking back into the shadows and stepping straight into Logan’s arms. It was not an intentional thing, but it felt so right she almost stayed there.

  “Sorry.” She eased away, stopping short when his hands slid around her waist. “What—?”

  “A police cruiser just drove into the lot.”

  “Where?” She would have turned to look, but he caught her chin and held her still.

  “Don’t. Every officer in town knows me. I need to make sure that he doesn’t see my face.” He bent his head, maneuvering so that his back was to the lot, her body hidden by his. His eyes glowed sapphire in the dim light, and her heart leaped in response.

  What if he was seen?

  What if the police officer approached and demanded that he surrender?

  She tensed.

  “Relax. This is just an ordinary night, and we’re just an ordinary couple making a pit stop on the way to forever,” Logan murmured, his hand sliding up her spine and tangling in the end of her ponytail.

  “What if he comes over?” she responded, her voice shaky and a little too loud.

  “He won’t.”

  “But—”

  “He’s not here for us. He’s probably on his way home after a long day and wants to grab a snack.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “No, but I can know that if you don’t stop acting so terrified, he’ll notice. If that happens, he’ll come over. Then, we’re both sunk,” Logan whispered, pressing his forehead to hers, his eyes blazing.

  “Are you sure he didn’t already notice us?” She tried to relax, she really did, but the urge to turn and look was nearly overwhelming.

  “He’s heading into the convenience store. Don’t give him a reason to change his mind.” He cupped her face, his palms cool and rough, his fingers playing in the soft hair near her ears.

  It felt good, so good, to have him there with her, and all the terror and horror of the attack seemed to want to spill out right at that moment, drip down her cheek and drop off her chin.

  She didn’t dare brush it away. She didn’t want the officer to know she was crying. If he did, he’d probably feel obligated to make sure that she was okay.

  “Are you in pain?” Logan wiped the tears away, his palm rasping against bruised flesh.

  “No. Yes. I don’t know.”

  “I wish that I’d gotten there sooner. He really did a job on you.” He trailed a finger along her throbbing jaw.

  “You saved my life. That’s what matters.”

  “I still wish that I—” His gaze jumped to the right, his mouth tightening.

  “What? Is he—”

  She didn’t have time to finish the question; Logan dragged her forward, his lips slamming over hers. There was nothing gentle about the kiss, and she stiffened. She should have moved away, but his lips were warm and seeking, his hands sliding along her arms, linking with hers, palm to palm. Every beat of her heart seemed to throb for him.

  She lost herself in that, moving in closer and allowing the sweetness of his kiss to steal everything else away.

  “He’s gone.” Logan pulled back, his voice hoarse and his hand shaking as he smoothed a lock of hair from her cheek. “Sorry about that. He was looking our way, and I thought that he planned to come over.”

  “It’s okay.” She stepped back, her heart pounding and her breath heaving and all the reasons why it wasn’t okay filling her head.

  She felt it too deeply.

  She wanted it to continue too much.

  She pushed the thoughts away, sealing them in where she kept her deepest secrets and longings.

  This was Logan, after all. An old friend. A man who’d saved her life more than once and whose life she’d saved. That sort of thing created a bond. A deep one. There was no sense trying to deny it.

  But the kiss had been nothing more than a means to escape detection. If she kept that in mind, she wouldn’t lose any more of her heart than she already had.

  A dark truck pulled into the parking lot, flashed its lights twice and drove back out onto the road.

  “That’s our ride.” Logan took her hand, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to cling to him as they walked around the side of the building, cut through a field and stepped out onto the country road that led to her parents’ place.

  She could still hear sirens, the faint sound reminding her that the life she’d been living was over. She couldn’t go back to Seattle. Not now. Until Logan’s name was cleared and the men who were after him were captured, she was safer with him than alone.

  “There he is. Come on.” Logan broke into a jog, and she had to keep pace with him. She was clutching his hand, after all. Holding on as if he were her lifeline.

  Stupid.

  Because she’d become that to herself long ago. She’d loved William, but she’d never needed him the way some of her friends seemed to need their spouses. She’d always known that if something happened and she were on her own, she’d be fine. Life had taught her how to go it alone, and she’d learned the lesson well.

  Now she was allowing herself to be dragged through the darkness, picked up and nearly tossed into the backseat of an extended cab pickup. She had a quick impression of firm muscles and heat, and then Logan was shoving in beside her, his thigh pressed close to hers as he crowded close.

  “Hey!”

  “Save your protests for after we’re on the road.” Logan fumbled for her seat belt, and she shoved his hands away.

  “I can manage.” She snapped the belt into place and leaned a little away, trying to put some distance between them.

  Not that distance was going to help.

  She could still taste his kiss on her lips and feel the heavy thud of her heart.

  She touched the bruises on her cheek and jaw, hoping it would remind her of all the reasons why she could never allow herself to completely give her heart to someone. She’d been bruised so many times as a kid, battered, cut, even burned, but the worst that she’d suffered was the emotional coldness and neglect, the complete lack of connection, affection and love.

  By the time she’d left home, she’d learned to hold back pieces of herself, make sure that only she was responsible for the care and keeping of them. Even with William, she hadn’t given everything. There’d always been a tiny part of her heart that she held in reserve.

  “I’m assuming you’re Logan Randal and Laney Jefferson. If not, I’m afraid that you jumped into the wrong vehicle,” the driver said, his gravelly voice as dry and raspy as sandpaper. She couldn’t make out his hair or eye color, but his face was all sharp angles and strength.

  “If you’re Seth Sinclair, we’re in the right place,” Logan responded as they turned onto a narrow dirt road.

  “Guess we’re all where we need to be. Darius asked me to stick around, offer a little protection once I get you to the safe house.”

  “Did he tell you that I’m wanted by the police?”

  “He did. He also told me that you didn’t commit the crime you’ve been accused of. Of course, every criminal says that.”<
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  “If you think I’m a criminal, why help me?”

  “I trust Darius. If he says you’re innocent, you are. Of course, my word and his don’t mean squat. What you need is proof. You have anything to go on? Maybe something the police missed?”

  “I have a driver’s license that I pulled off the guy who attacked Laney. I’ve already given the name to Darius. He’s doing some research.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Nothing to write home about.”

  “Then I guess we’ve got our work cut out for us.”

  “There’s no need for you to get involved. The last thing I want is to pull more people into my troubles. Once you get Laney to the safe house, I’m going to take off.”

  “And go where?” It was the same question Laney wanted to ask, and she watched as Logan ran a hand over his hair and rubbed the back of his neck.

  He didn’t know.

  Stumped was not a good thing to be when people wanted you dead.

  She touched his hand, her finger grazing his knuckles, her pulse jumping with the quick, sharp jolt of electricity.

  It was a mistake, and she should have pulled away, but Logan turned his hand and captured hers, and no matter how much she told herself that she should, she couldn’t quite bring herself to break the connection.

  TWELVE

  Two hours, thirty-five minutes and ten seconds.

  That’s exactly how long Laney had been in the truck, listening as Logan and Seth discussed possible suspects. Logan seemed to have a long list of people who might want revenge. Drug dealers. Petty criminals. A murderer who’d threatened to destroy Logan. A lawyer who’d been accused and convicted of peddling child pornography and told Logan that he’d make him pay. They all had motive. The problem was, they were all still in jail.

  Or so Logan said as he tapped his hand on his thigh.

  The same hand Laney had been holding.

  She frowned, swiping her palm across her jeans, her hand still tingling from the warmth of his touch.

  “You okay?” Logan asked, his attention shifting to her.

  “You didn’t mention Mildred,” she responded, not wanting to discuss how she was doing. “She’s not in jail.”