Harlequin Romantic Suspense March 2016 Box Set

by Carla Cassidy

  “No.” She didn’t want him to touch her in any way. The fact that he obviously believed that he would eventually make love to her, that he would happily impregnate her, made bile rise up in the back of her throat.

  “I don’t feel very well. I think I just need to sleep some more,” she said faintly.

  “It’s probably leftover from the tranquilizer I gave you. Get some more sleep and I’m sure you’ll feel much better when you wake up again.” He began to back toward the doorway. “Call me if you need anything, Trisha. When you do wake up, we can really talk about our future together.” He gave her a tremulous smile. “It’s going to be so wonderful.”

  She didn’t really start to breathe again until he had left the room. She was in trouble, and Dusty didn’t know it but he was also in danger.

  Greg hadn’t told her specifically where they were, but he’d seemed extremely confident that they wouldn’t be found. She didn’t even know how many hours had passed since he’d taken her. She had no idea what time it was now.

  Were they close to Bitterroot? Or had she been unconscious for so long that Greg had taken her hundreds of miles away from town?

  How was anyone ever going to find her? Even if Dillon and Dusty somehow managed to figure out that Greg was guilty, if they weren’t on the Humes property and they weren’t in Bitterroot anymore, then how would they know where to look?

  She tried to pull her wrists free once again and twisted her ankles in an attempt to get loose, but to no avail. A sob escaped her. She quickly pressed her lips together. She didn’t want Greg to hear her cry. She didn’t want him coming back into the room.

  She realized that she couldn’t depend on anyone riding to her rescue. Somehow, someway she had to figure out how to outsmart and outplay a madman.

  * * *

  Dusty sat in the café with a cup of coffee before him. Daisy had opened up the place for the night to serve as headquarters for the officers and volunteers who were searching for Greg and Trisha.

  The night had crept by in agonizing increments of time as everyone tried to figure out where Greg could have gone. He had no immediate family members still alive, and he’d lived in the bunkhouse at the Humes ranch for the past ten years.

  He owned no property that Dillon could find and even though he’d put out a BOLO for Greg’s car, nothing had come of it yet.

  The rising sun was a soft, faint glow in the sky, and Dusty couldn’t believe that an entire night had passed without Trisha being back safe and sound in his arms.

  “Dusty, you should eat something,” Tony said as he sat down next to Dusty at the table. The men from the Holiday ranch had been out all night, driving the streets and trying to help. “Daisy is serving up breakfast.”

  “I can’t eat,” Dusty replied. He had a ball so big in his belly, so tight in his chest, he wasn’t even sure he could choke down the coffee that was quickly cooling before him.

  Tony placed a hand on Dusty’s shoulder. “You’ve got to stay strong, Dusty. When we find her she’s probably going to need you more than ever.”

  Dusty was grateful that his friend hadn’t said if they found her but rather when. He’d take all the optimism he could get right now, because a bitter hopelessness blew through his entire body.

  Too much time had passed. They had nothing to go on, no place to search that hadn’t already been done. Greg Albertson had managed to disappear like a ghost in the night, taking Trisha with him.

  Greg was a Bitterroot native. His parents had died when he was nineteen and it was then he’d moved to the Humes ranch to live and work. He had no ties to any other city that Dillon could find. He didn’t do social media and his cheap cell phone had been disconnected two days before.

  The slightly overweight man with the pleasant features and slightly goofy smile had fooled them all. He’d even managed to dupe the men he’d worked and lived among for years. Greg was obviously much smarter, much more cunning than any of them had given him credit.

  Was Trisha still alive? Dusty had to believe that she was, otherwise he would descend into a darkness the likes of which he’d never known.

  Until he saw her body, until a coroner confirmed that she was really dead, he’d never give up hope. She had to be alive. Cooper needed his mother and Dusty needed his woman.

  “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?” Tony asked. “Maybe a pancake or some eggs?”

  Dusty shook his head. “In a couple of hours I need to go to Juanita Gomez’s place. Cooper will be waking up and he’ll want to know why his mother isn’t there. If she can’t be there for him, then I need to be.”

  “What are you going to tell him?” Tony asked.

  “I don’t know.” He curled his fingers around his coffee mug, feeling as if he needed to hang on to something as he thought about Cooper. How did you tell a three-year-old that his mother had been kidnapped? How did you tell a little boy that his mother was gone and nobody knew how to find her?

  “Let me know if there’s anything that I can do,” Tony said.

  Dusty nodded and Tony got up and joined several other men on the opposite side of the room. He took a drink and fought against the tears that pressed hot behind his eyes.

  He couldn’t break down now. He couldn’t succumb to his emotions. He wasn’t a sniveling punk anymore. He was a man and he had to remain strong.

  He downed the last of the coffee and then got up and walked over to Dillon. “Now that the sun is coming up, I’m going to take a drive around town. You’ll call me if something breaks?”

  Dillon nodded. “Of course I will. Dusty, I’ve got all the men out on the streets. I’m doing everything that I can.”

  “I know. I’ll be back later.” He turned and left the café and headed for his truck. The only hint that a storm had briefly flown through the night before was the cooler temperature and a fresh scent.

  He got into his truck and sat for a long moment. He dropped his forehead to the steering wheel as he fought against the exhaustion of a night with no sleep.

  Sooner or later he knew he’d have to crash, but at the moment he couldn’t imagine sleeping with Trisha still gone. He started his engine and pulled out of the parking lot.

  He had no destination in mind. He’d just needed to do something more than sit around and wait. The streets were quiet and he drove slowly, peering at each house that he passed.

  Where are you, Trisha? Where has he taken you? Dusty was in his worst nightmare and he didn’t know how to wake up. He drove aimlessly, his heart in his throat, for almost two hours. He finally parked on a side street and dug his cell phone out of his pocket.

  Juanita answered on the first ring. “Is he awake?” Dusty asked.

  “Yes, and asking for his mother. I don’t know what to tell him.” Her voice was soft, as if Cooper was nearby. “Is there any news at all?”

  “Nothing,” he replied flatly. “Can you keep him longer?”

  “He’s welcome to stay here for as long as is needed.”

  “Do you mind if I come by and have a talk with him?”

  “I think he’d like that. He’s asked for you, too,” she replied.

  “I’ll be there in five minutes.” Dusty disconnected the call and tucked his phone back in his pocket. What was he going to say to Cooper? There were no words to explain this horrible adult situation to a little boy.

  Minutes later he pulled up in front of Juanita’s home, his heart heavier than it had ever been. What could he possibly tell Cooper that would keep him from being afraid when Dusty himself was so afraid?

  Juanita greeted him at the front door. “He’s in the kitchen finishing up breakfast,” she said as she let him inside.

  Dusty walked through the small tidy living room and entered the kitchen, where Cooper sat at the table. The air smelled ridiculously normal—of baco
n and eggs and toast.

  “Dusty!” Cooper slid off his chair and ran to Dusty and hugged him around the waist.

  “How’s my little man this morning?” Dusty asked when Cooper released him.

  “I spent the whole night here. You and Mommy didn’t come to get me to take me home. Why didn’t you come and get me, Dusty?”

  Dusty crouched down and pulled him close. Cooper gazed at him with big, guileless eyes. “Your mommy got lost.”

  Cooper frowned. “She’s lost? How did she get lost?”

  “I’m not sure, but I’m looking for her. I’m doing everything that I can to find her.”

  Cooper placed his hands on either side of Dusty’s face. “But you’re gonna find her, right, Dusty?” He grinned at Dusty with clear confidence shining from his bright blue eyes. “You’ll find her because you’re the best cowboy since the Duke.”

  The emotion that Dusty had choked back throughout the endless night suddenly overwhelmed him. He pulled Cooper into a hug as tears blurred his vision. No matter what happened, he would do everything possible to be the man in Cooper’s life.

  He sucked back the tears and released his hold on Cooper. “Will you be okay here with Juanita until we find your mom?” he asked.

  Cooper leaned closer to him. “I’d rather go home with you,” he said in a loud whisper.

  “I’d like that, but I need to keep looking for your mommy,” Dusty replied.

  “Then okay. I can stay here. But will you come and see me again?”

  “I sure will.” Dusty stood. He needed to get out before he completely lost it. Cooper’s utter trust shone from his eyes, and Dusty knew he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t somehow, someway bring Trisha home to the son who needed her.

  Minutes later he was back in his truck and he couldn’t staunch the tears that coursed down his cheeks. This was his fault. He’d failed her. He’d failed Cooper.

  What would happen to Cooper if Trisha didn’t come home? Somewhere out there was a biological father who might raise his head to claim his son. The thought of Trisha’s monster having custody of Cooper horrified Dusty.

  Once again he lowered his head to the steering wheel as deep sobs exploded from him. He could no longer fight against the utter despair.

  Trisha, we need you, his heart cried out, causing the tears to continue to flow. But he was so afraid that this wasn’t going to be a happy ending for anyone.

  CHAPTER 15

  “Breakfast!”

  Greg’s cheerful voice pulled Trisha from an exhausted sleep. He carried a tray and placed it across her middle on the bed. “There’s nothing better than a hearty breakfast to start a new day.”

  She stared at him dully. Breakfast? That meant it was morning and she’d been missing for an entire night. She looked at the bacon and scrambled eggs on the tray. She wanted to throw up. He left the room and then returned with a straight-back chair and put it next to the bed and sat.

  “I’m not hungry,” she said.

  “But you have to eat,” he protested. “You don’t want to get sick. Besides, I went to all of this trouble just for you.”

  She didn’t care about the trouble he’d gone to, but he was right. The last thing she wanted to do was get sick or get weak. If either happened then she’d never figure out a way to escape this madness.

  “It’s going to be difficult to eat with my hands tied,” she said, hoping that he would release her from the ties that bound her.

  “Don’t worry. I’m going to feed you.” He picked up a fork from the tray and stabbed at the scrambled eggs. “I’ll always take care of you, Trisha.”

  Grudgingly she opened her mouth and took the eggs off the fork. She chewed and swallowed, fighting against a wave of nausea. “Greg, you need to let me go. I’m sure a lot of people are looking for you by now.”

  “They aren’t going to find me. Nobody knows about this cabin.” He held out another forkful of eggs, but she shook her head, knowing that she couldn’t take another bite without getting sick.

  “Sooner or later you’ll have to leave here to get food or whatever and somebody will see you,” she said.

  He set the fork down and then leaned back in the chair and grinned at her. “You know, it’s amazing what kind of food you can get nowadays from all the crazy doomsday places. They call themselves preppers...people who are preparing for the fall of society and anarchy. I’ve got plenty of food here that has a twenty-five-year shelf life. We’ve got a well for water and I can always bag some rabbits and such for fresh meat. We’ll be fine without me ever having to go to a store.”

  His words only increased the nausea. “I need to go to the bathroom.” Surely he wouldn’t bring her a bedpan.

  He picked up the tray and placed it on the floor next to the bed. “I’m going to untie you, but don’t try anything, Trisha. Please don’t make me mad. Don’t make me hurt you.”

  Fear tasted coppery and bitter, she thought as she saw the hint of menace in his eyes. He was big enough, strong enough that he could easily snap a bone in her body and keep her bedridden and helpless for a very long time.

  He untied her ankles first and then moved to her wrists. She gasped in relief when she was free. He grabbed her by the upper arm and pulled her from the bed.

  She wanted to jerk away from his touch, to run for the nearest door or window, but she did neither. She couldn’t afford for him to hurt her and she needed to get the layout of the cabin before she could possibly plan how to escape.

  The last thing she wanted was to do something risky or rash. She had to be patient if she was ever going to get an opportunity to get away from him.

  They left the bedroom and entered a room that was a combination living area and kitchen. A potbellied stove stood in one corner and a single window displayed nothing but thick woods outside.

  The bathroom was tiny, with only a shower stall, the commode and a pedestal sink. A small window was high above the stool and she eyed it longingly but knew she probably couldn’t fit through it.

  “I’ll give you a few minutes,” he said. He closed the door and instantly her tears began to flow. She was trapped with a lunatic who believed she was his destiny.

  Thank goodness Cooper wasn’t here with her. But even this thought was little comfort. Would she ever hold him again? Would she ever see his beautiful smile, hear his happy talk about cowboys and the Duke again? She couldn’t think about him. It hurt too much. She had to focus on how she was going to get out of here.

  There was no medicine cabinet that might hold something she could use as a weapon. There wasn’t even a mirror she could break and use to cut him. Her tears began to fall once again.

  Minutes later she left the bathroom and Greg was instantly by her side. “You need to go back into the bedroom and finish your breakfast,” he said.

  “I’m really not hungry. Can’t I just sit in here with you?” She pointed to the sofa and forced a smile. “Please, Greg.”

  He frowned and then nodded. “Okay, we’ll sit in here for a little while.” He walked her to the sofa and sat next to her.

  “Where is this place?” she asked, even as her mind whirled, seeking any potential escape route. Greg didn’t appear to have a gun on him, but he was a big man and she knew there was no way she could physically overwhelm him long enough to get out of the front door.

  “We’re a little over a hundred miles from Bitterroot,” he replied.

  A hundred miles. Her heart sank. She’d hoped they were close to the town, where Dillon and Dusty and others would be searching for her. A hundred miles might as well be a thousand...a million.

  “Nobody is going to find us, Trisha, and eventually you’ll come to realize that we were meant to be together. I’ve waited a long time for this...for you. I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to make this happen.” />
  “Did you trash the motel room?”

  He gave her a rueful grin. “Guilty as charged. I saw Dusty taking off with you and I’ll admit, my anger got the best of me.”

  Rage. Dillon had said that it had been obvious an enormous rage had exploded inside the motel room. The last thing she wanted was for that rage to be directed at her.

  Greg’s smile slowly fell away. He gazed at her with an intensity that heightened the fear that already raced through her. “Don’t you get it, Trisha? I’ll do anything to keep you with me. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re mine until the day you die.”

  Goose bumps rose up on her arms. She’d been so afraid that Frank would find her that she’d never recognized that the affable, overweight cowboy she’d served so many times in the café was the real monster.

  * * *

  It was just after noon when Zeke walked through the café’s front door. Dusty frowned as he approached his table. If he’d come here to start trouble, Dusty would punch him out without a second thought. He was in no mood for any of Zeke’s crap.

  Zeke threw himself into the chair opposite Dusty. “I know you and me haven’t always seen eye to eye, but I’ve been racking my brain and thinking about every conversation I ever had with Greg.”

  Dusty leaned forward. “And?”

  “And Greg mentioned a hunting cabin that belonged to some cousin of his that wasn’t too far from here. He spent time there when he was a kid and he told me that someday he’d retire there and live off the land.”

  A burst of adrenaline fired through Dusty. “Where is the cabin? Can you be more specific? Think, Zeke, this is a matter of life or death.”

  Zeke frowned. “If I’m remembering right, I think he said it was someplace around Rush Springs.”

  “Dillon.” Dusty yelled to the man seated at a nearby table with a laptop in front of him and then looked back at Zeke. “Do you remember this cousin’s name?”