When a Secret Kills

by Lynette Eason

  Sounds reached him.

  Harsh breaths, a grunt. The sound of a punch?

  “Jillian!” His shout ricocheted inside his head and blackness swirled across his vision.

  His gun. Where was it?

  Backup would be waiting at the old mill. They wouldn’t know where he was. He and Jillian were on their own. And what had happened to Hunter?

  The man who’d pulled her from the car dragged her a few more steps before her legs gave out. Her head throbbed from the impact with the window and his grip on her hair.

  “Come on,” he muttered, letting go of his hold on her hair, forcing her back to her feet, his clasp on her upper arm bruising and cruel. She could see his car at the top of the embankment and knew if he managed to get her inside, she was dead.

  Jillian faked another stumble and went down to her knees, then to her left hip. Her move pulled him off balance and she gained a moment of freedom as his grip loosened and her right arm slipped free.

  Just like Blake taught her, she brought her leg around and jammed her heel into her attacker’s knee.

  He screamed and went down beside her, his hands grasping, reaching. Scuttling like a crab, Jillian backed away, her fingers searching blindly for a weapon on the grassy slope. She had to get away, get help for Colton.

  And she had to live for Meg.

  Her head throbbed, her whole body felt like one big bruise. The man hobbled after her, his curses ringing in the air. Frantic, she tossed her gaze one way, then the next. She could see Colton’s truck resting nose down against the bottom of the embankment.

  Movement caught her attention as she scrambled to her feet to limp-run back toward the vehicle. She had no idea what she would do when she got there, but she knew two guns were somewhere in the truck. Having a weapon was her only hope of surviving this. She looked back to gauge his progress.

  He came toward her, his speed hampered by his knee. The mask obscured his features but nothing could hide the pain and fury burning in those eyes.

  Above her, sirens sounded in the distance and her attacker froze, indecision evident in his stance. A split second later, he started toward her, eyes narrowed against the pain of his knee, his intent clear.

  A shot rang out and he dropped to the grass.

  Jillian turned to see Colton leaning against the truck, weapon held in a shaky grip. Relief flooded through her as the sirens drew closer. Then fear tripled her heartbeat as Colton slid down to sit on the ground, the gun still held on the man who now began to crawl up the embankment.

  Colton aimed. Fired. And missed.

  The man scrambled out of sight and a few seconds later she heard the roar of an engine and the screech of rubber on asphalt.

  Jillian raced to Colton’s side and dropped down beside him. “Colton, are you okay?”

  “There’s four of you,” he muttered.

  She looked at the blood running down the left side of his head. “You probably have a concussion.” The sirens drew closer.

  Colton closed his eyes, opened them, and squinted. “Stop moving.”

  “I’m not.” She glanced up the hill and knew she and Colton were invisible from the road. “I’m going to flag down whoever belongs to those sirens.”

  “I’ll come with you. He might still be up there.”

  “He’s not. Now stay put.” Without waiting for him to answer, she ignored her screaming muscles and began the climb back up the hill. Thank goodness it wasn’t too steep or she’d never make it.

  At the top, she leaned over and placed her hands on her knees as she waited for a sudden bout of nausea to pass. A fatigue like she’d never felt before nearly took her to her knees.

  Gritting her teeth, she fought it off. The sirens were nearly upon her.

  Standing, wincing at the pain shooting through her, she lifted her arms to flag down the approaching cruisers.

  Jillian endured the poking and prodding at the hospital while answering as many questions as the doctor allowed before banning the authorities from her bedside. She knew she would be all right, but Colton had a head injury and that worried her, as did not knowing what had happened to Hunter.

  Serena peeked around the edge of the curtain and Jillian burst into tears. She didn’t know how her friend knew she was at the hospital, but she didn’t care.

  Serena didn’t say a word, she simply walked over and wrapped her arms around Jillian’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you.” She waited as the tears slowed. When Jillian gave a weary sigh and rested her head against her friend, Serena whispered, “How’s Meg? Have you been able to talk to her?”

  Jillian shook her head. “I don’t dare. I’m almost afraid to even think about her.”

  “I’d offer to contact her for you, but I think whoever’s after you is still watching me.”

  That brought Jillian’s head up. Her eyes searched her friend’s. “Why do you say that?”

  “Just a feeling.”

  “Yeah. I know that feeling.” She frowned. “Is Dominic sticking close?”

  “Like glue.”

  “Good.”

  And then their conversation ended as the curtain parted and a young lady about Jillian and Serena’s age stepped inside. The doctor who’d done the earlier poking and prodding. Dr. Franklin, if Jillian remembered correctly. Dr. Franklin held a chart and wore a smile. To Serena, she said, “Do you mind if I have a moment with the patient?”

  Serena started to leave and Jillian caught her hand. She said, “She can stay.”

  Dr. Franklin nodded. “All right. Well, your MRI was clear and the X-rays showed nothing broken. You’re just bruised up pretty good. Good thing you had your seatbelt on.”

  “How’s Colton Brady?” she asked. She had to know.

  Dr. Franklin frowned. “I’m not sure. I don’t remember seeing that name.”

  “He had a head injury, probably a concussion.”

  Still nothing registered in the doctor’s eyes, although her brows dipped in concern. “He must have been seen by one of the other doctors.”

  “Could you find out?”

  “I’m fine, Jillian.” Colton’s voice came from the other side of the curtain. “May I come in?”

  Her heart leapt with relief. “Yes.”

  The curtain swung aside and his large frame filled the yawning space. Tears threatened again. “Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked. The bandage on the side of his head didn’t bode well.

  But the smile that curved his lips soothed her worry. For him. She asked, “How’s Hunter?”

  “Alexia’s with him now. The bullet missed him. He crashed his car, he’s in a lot of pain, but he’ll live.”

  Jillian’s anger toward Frank Hoffman rose up within her. More than ever she wanted to see that man in prison. She clamped her lips tight and sent up a silent prayer of thanks for Hunter’s life. That they were all alive. The comforting weight of Serena’s hand in hers and Colton’s presence brought thankful tears to her eyes. Blinking them back, she looked at Colton. “What’s the plan now?”

  He shook his head. “You like your plans, don’t you? Okay, how about this? Plan A is to make sure you’re safe. That’s the priority. Once that’s been established, we’ve got the plate of the car and his gun. We’ll find him.”

  Tuesday

  18

  2:04 A.M.

  Colton escorted her into the hotel suite in downtown Columbia and shut the door, wincing as it clicked behind him. The sound reverberated through his aching head.

  He got on the phone with Katie. “Were we followed?”

  “No, not that I could tell. You took the long, winding route, backtracked, and double-checked. I’m carsick, but you’re good,” she grumbled.

  “Glad to hear it. Take a Dramamine.”

  “Your sympathy overwhelms me.”

  He felt a grin tug at the corners of his mouth as he hung up and told Jillian, “We weren’t followed.”

  “Wonderful.” She looked relieved, then worried agai
n. “And they’re sure Hunter’s going to be all right?”

  “Absolutely. The bullet just missed him, but startled him enough he jerked the wheel and ran off the road. His phone slid up under the seat and he couldn’t get to it. But he was able to radio our route to the guys waiting at the mill.”

  “But the shooter got away,” she muttered.

  “Yeah, but at least we’re alive to regret that fact.”

  “I’ve already thought about that.” She touched the white bandage on his head. “Are you sure you don’t have a concussion?”

  “Nope.”

  She frowned. “But you were unconscious.”

  “But I don’t have a concussion or at least if I did, it was mild enough that I don’t have any aftereffects. One of the benefits of having a really hard head, I suppose.” He was happy to see her lips quirk upward. “Doc said it was okay. I promise, it’s really not that bad. Trust me, I’ve felt worse.” He glanced around with satisfaction. He’d picked one of the nicest hotels in town. One with a two-bedroom suite—and a private hot tub in each room. His aching muscles begged him to hurry up and find the way to his. “Think this will work for you?”

  She gave him a weary smile. “It’s lovely. Much nicer than I needed, but thanks.” Then she frowned and bit her lip. “I don’t even know how I’m going to pay you back. I have no credit cards, debit cards, cash. Nothing.”

  “I’m not worried about that, Jillian.” He held up a hand to stop the rush of words he could see coming. “I know you are, but I’m not, I promise.” She snapped her lips closed and he said, “We’ll talk later after this is over.” He studied her for a moment, then stepped toward her. He settled his hands on her shoulders and was shocked at the tension he could feel running through her. “Do you ever relax?”

  Jillian lifted a brow at him. “Not when I’ve just eluded an attempted-kidnapping-slash-murder and know that the guy could decide to strike again at any given moment.” She shook her head and grimaced. “I’ve been looking over my shoulder and hiding for the last ten years. I wouldn’t know how to stop.”

  He tightened his grip into a gentle massaging motion. He didn’t want to hurt her, but her shoulders were bricks. She flinched when he pressed a little too hard on her right shoulder. “Seatbelt?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Want me to stop?”

  “Not yet.”

  His fingers moved to the base of her neck and lingered as he worked the muscles. Her forehead dropped to his chest and he closed his eyes at the memories and renewed feelings for her. God, help me. Show me the truth. Give me the strength to do what I’ve got to do.

  Jillian shifted and Colton opened his eyes to look down at her. The longing there nearly brought him to his knees. Her lips trembled and he lowered his head to capture them beneath his. She froze, then gave a soft sigh and kissed him back. And that was all it took. Old love mixed with new exploded through him and he knew, God willing, they would be together somehow. He wouldn’t survive losing her again.

  Slowly, reluctantly, he lifted his head. She opened her eyes and took him back ten years. That look she had now was the same one she’d given him when he’d told her he loved her and wanted to marry her.

  Then she blinked and it was gone.

  Regret, sorrow for losing what might have been, flowed through him.

  But he thought she might have loosened up a fraction before she moved away with a nervous clasp of her hands. He almost smiled. Don’t get cocky, man, he warned himself. He was surprised to find his enmity toward her had disappeared and that he was no longer angry or bitter about her leaving. He even understood it now. He didn’t necessarily like it, but he understood it.

  He fingered the straight dark brown hair and gave it a tug. “I miss your curls.” A strangled sound escaped her throat and he rested his forehead against hers. “I just want to help you, Jillian. Let the past be the past.” He paused, then said, “This may not be the time to bring this up, but . . .”

  “What?” Curiosity darkened her eyes. The dark smudges underneath her lashes told him she needed to make her way to her room and fall into bed. But after that kiss he couldn’t resist asking, “Do you think we can move forward from this point? Maybe see if we can build on what we used to have?” She froze, eyes widening like a deer in the headlights. His heart hit bottom and he gave a humorless laugh. Maybe he’d moved too soon. Maybe he’d misread her. Maybe the kiss hadn’t meant as much to her as it did to him. “What? The idea’s that distasteful?”

  Jillian’s eyes closed again and she shook her head as a red flush tinted her cheeks. “No,” she whispered, “not distasteful at all. Just—impossible.”

  Ouch. That hurt. “Why?”

  Tears coated her lashes. She opened her eyes and his heart nearly broke at the grief, the anger, the sheer helplessness he saw there. “Jillian?”

  “It’s just not possible right now, Colton. Trust me on that, okay? There are things you don’t—” She bit her lip and looked at the ceiling as though trying to get a grip on her emotions.

  He leapt on the two words that offered him hope. “Right now?”

  She brought her hands to her face and swiped at the tears. “Yeah. Right now. Maybe we can talk again after all this is over.” A pause. “Assuming I’m still alive to talk about it.”

  Colton reached for her in a sudden move that had them both wincing, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her head. “Don’t start thinking like that. You’ll be fine. We’ll figure this out. Hopefully tomorrow will add to the answers we got today.”

  She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t pull away from him either.

  Instead, he felt some of the tension start to finally leave her. His heart twisted and his blood hummed. Holding her close brought a rush of memories he was better off not thinking about. With an effort, he gave her a gentle shove toward the bedroom on the left. “Go get some sleep.”

  He waited until he heard the click of the lock before he allowed himself to give in to the weariness invading him. He also breathed a short prayer that whoever was after Jillian would have to take time to think of another plan before he struck again.

  Because Colton needed time to recover and come up with a plan of his own.

  A plan that would keep Jillian safe while proving his uncle’s innocence—or guilt.

  19

  Morning arrived before Jillian was ready. The memory of Colton’s words and their kiss simmered at the forefront of her mind. Oh how she’d wanted to promise him they could explore a future together, but she couldn’t. Not until he knew about Meg. And not until she knew that he wouldn’t consider Meg a mistake. The thought tightened her stomach into a knot.

  Burying her face in the pillow, she did her best to ignore her protesting muscles, bruised shoulder, aching head, and spinning thoughts and return to sleep. However, the smell of bacon, eggs, and cinnamon tempted her enough to push back the covers, swing her legs over the side of the bed, and make her way to the shower.

  Ten minutes later, Jillian dressed in a pair of denim capris and a pink T-shirt provided by Alexia. She rubbed the towel over her damp hair, then braided it. Her shoulders protested the movement and by the time she was done, she was ready for some ibuprofen.

  A knock on the door startled her. Heart thumping, she told herself it was just Colton, but she couldn’t help her initial reaction. Jillian opened the door to find Colton, freshly shaven and smelling good. She swallowed hard. “Hey.”

  “Morning.” His eyes glittered and she could see the memory of last night simmering in their depths. Nervous, she waited for him to say something.

  Instead, he swept a hand behind him toward a cart laden with silver-covered dishes. “Room service.”

  “With a smile,” Hunter called as he stepped in from the balcony.

  Relief swept through her as she pushed aside her crazy reaction and entered the living area. To Hunter, she said, “You’re really all ri
ght.”

  He nodded. “Yep. Had a raging headache all night from cracking my head on the window, but it’s better this morning.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, the guilt flaring. Maybe she should have left well enough alone and just stayed in California.

  Hunter’s brows dipped. “It’s not your fault, Jillian. This is what we do.”

  She nodded and bit her lip, not fully convinced. She couldn’t help kicking herself for being so emotional. This is what she did as an investigative reporter. Only usually her life wasn’t the one on the line. Or the lives of those she cared about.

  “We’re working on a plan of action for today,” Colton said. “You want to join us?”

  “Of course.”

  “Grab some food and have a seat. Dominic’s on his way.”

  Jillian uncovered the food and fixed herself a plate. She took a seat at the table and began to eat. For the first time in a while, she realized she was actually hungry. “So, what’s the plan?” she asked between bites.

  Colton snagged a piece of bacon. “We’re going to do some interviews today.” He looked at his phone and frowned. “And I’m going to get ahold of my uncle.”

  She shot him a look but kept her mouth shut. He knew where she stood when it came to Frank Hoffman. His lips tightened, but he didn’t say anything about it either.

  He swallowed a sip of coffee, then said, “The plate was traced to a vehicle reported stolen about two hours before the attack on us.”

  “Of course it was. What about the gun?”

  “Ballistics has it. I’m still waiting for the report on that. My guess is it’s a street gun, purchased for this very purpose.”

  “To kill me?”

  “Yeah. It’ll be untraceable, but kept for evidence when we catch the guy. Might have some prints on it.”

  A knock on the door had Hunter and Colton reaching for their weapons.