Dangerous Flirt

by Avery Flynn

  The crowd emitted a loud groan. A harried clerk slapped down a sign. No cars available. In front of her, the line dispersed as people scattered like rats on a sinking ship to other rental car counters where the lines were already dozens of people deep.

  She'd give up coffee for a year to have a car right now.

  “Need a ride?” Hank jangled a set of rental keys in front of her nose. An easy smile curled his lips, but a sliver of uncertainty shined in his gaze.

  Her hard-fought-for composure crumbled in the middle of the airport. With people swarming around them, hurrying from one concourse to another, she stopped trying to move forward and acknowledged the here and now. Here stood the man she loved. Strong. Loyal. Smart. Hot as hell. If she couldn’t let go enough to take a chance on him, she was twelve kinds of a fool.

  Hank wrapped his arms around her, engulfing her crying form in his warm embrace. “Did you know that I’m going to be the best uncle in the world someday?”

  The soft cotton of his Nebraska football polo muffled her chuckle. “Oh, Hank.”

  “I mean it, Beth. I don’t care about some kids we may or may not ever have. I care about you.”

  “But—”

  “We’ll take it slow. We don’t have to decide everything right away. Trust me.” He brushed a kiss across her lips. “Trust yourself.”

  Looking up into those Layton family hazel eyes, she wanted to say yes but fear had taken up too much room inside her for so long. You’re a real coward, Beth Martinez. “Hank…”

  “I believe in you, Beth. I believe in us. Look, you don’t have to say anything this moment, just kiss me.”

  And she did, with every bit of yes she had in her but couldn’t say out loud.

  Four and a half hours later, they crossed the Dry Creek County line. The Bighorn Hills loomed up ahead, outlined by the full moon's white light. Named after the bighorn sheep that climbed them, the rounded slopes rose hundreds of feet above the prairie. Dotted with ponderosa pine, prairie grass, jutting outcrops of rocks and scattered patches of sagebrush, the hills seemed spectral set against the bright stars lighting up the night sky.

  To tired drivers numbed by the flat monotony of Interstate 80, the Bighorn Hills appeared like mountains in comparison to the never-ending horizontal scenery of the Nebraska plain. For Beth, the sight meant home. And heartbreak.

  The memories came unbidden.

  The screeching of brakes.

  The stench of burning rubber.

  Her parents tumbling around the front seat like socks in the dryer.

  EMTs pulling her from the wreckage.

  “What the hell?” Hank's annoyed tone pulled her back into the present. “That moron is flying.”

  Beth whipped around in her seat to look out the back window of the tiny subcompact rental car. A truck's high-set headlights zoomed toward them. As it got closer, the driver flashed his high beams, momentarily blinding Beth.

  After a few blinks, her sight returned, obscured only by hazy halos that glowed in the middle distance. Her heart rate jacked up as panic buzzed through her body.

  Automatically, she tested the seat belt to double-check it was fastened. Her fingers shook as she pulled against Hank's seat belt, making sure he was safe.

  Lungs aching with the pressure of holding her breath, she forced herself to inhale and willed herself to think logically. She wasn't eight. She wasn't trapped in the backseat. It wasn't a drunk driver, just someone in a big hurry.

  “Slow down and let them pass,” she urged. “Maybe it's an emergency.”

  A vein pulsed in Hank's temple but he didn't say a thing as he eased his foot off the gas pedal.

  The truck continued its swift approach, maneuvering at the last moment into the oncoming lane to pass. It pulled alongside, towering over the subcompact.

  Nerves taunt, Beth glanced past Hank out the driver's-side window.

  Sarah Jane Hunihan sat behind the truck’s wheel, her white skin glowing in the moonlight.

  Beth couldn't look away as terror spun out of control, hurtling her into a full-on panic.

  “Hank!”

  Hank forced himself into cop mode, ignoring the instinct to comfort Beth. The truck slammed into the subcompact's driver's side, jostling him in his seat. He punched the gas, shooting the car forward. “Hold on.”

  The little car gave its all and left the four-by-four in the dust, at least for a moment. The truck swerved behind him, staying on the rental car's tail.

  Tires squealed as he sped along the curving road around the bend. The lights of Dry Creek twinkled in the valley below, the deceptive view promising a quick arrival even though they were half an hour out.

  It wasn't enough.

  Sarah Jane rammed the back of the car, making his head snap forward.

  Grasping the steering wheel tighter, he fought to regain control of the car fishtailing on the highway. They had to get away from the truck.

  The pitiful rental car engine couldn't outpace a pregnant turtle. He needed to find a side road.

  Keeping his gaze locked on the twisting road ahead of them, he pictured a map of Big Horn Hills. There were access roads to the state park dotting the highway, but they weren't well marked. If you didn't know where they were, you'd shoot right past them.

  Especially at night.

  The truck slammed into the car again, pushing it forward.

  “Are we near any of the park access roads?” Tearing his gaze away from the scenery flying past them, Hank glanced at Beth from the corner of his eye.

  She sat frozen beside him. Stark terror glistened in her wide-open brown eyes. Her skin had turned ashen.

  Gamely, she tried to make eye contact but her gaze skittered back to the headlights glaring at them from the rearview mirror. “Tell me it won't happen again,” she demanded in a quiet monotone.

  Fuck. Her parents had died on this road, pushed into a ravine by a drunk driver. “Hell no, it won't happen again.”

  As if to say “oh yeah”, the truck slammed into the car once again. The car careened to the left.

  He jerked the steering wheel, tires spinning out on the pebbled surface of the highway shoulder. His arms burned from the effort of keeping the rental car tires on the paved highway.

  Just as he braced himself for the impact of going off-road, the tires gripped the road and they rushed to the other side.

  Yanking the wheel the other way, he fought to keep the car from running off the side of the road.

  As the car settled into the right lane, Hank gunned the engine, willing the four-cylinder to run like an eight-cylinder sports car. His gut twisted when the truck appeared once again in his periphery vision. “Beth, you have to concentrate.” He fought to keep from yelling and spooking her further. “Is there a park access road nearby?”

  The screeching of twisting metal screamed through the night as the truck plowed into them. It took all the power Hank had to keep the little subcompact on the road. “Beth!”

  “Yes,” she hollered. “Another mile up the road on the left. There's an unmarked ATV path, it's narrow but the car should fit.”

  “Okay. Keep your eyes peeled and tell me when to turn.”

  The truck veered into the compact car again. His whole body ached with the effort not to be overwhelmed by the truck's superior force as they barreled side-by-side on the twisting highway.

  “Now!”

  Jamming his foot onto the brake, his body slammed forward.

  The truck passed them.

  Revving the tired engine, he steered the car onto the ATV road so narrow, the car barely fit. Bouncing on the deep ruts in the dirt path, there was little Hank could do to avoid the gullies in the road that sent the rental car bounding up into the air.

  Pine trees stood guard on both sides, forcing him to stay in the dead center of the road. Still, the pine branches scraped the sides of the car like nails on a chalkboard.

  Hank glanced up at the rearview mirror, checking for the truck's headlights. When he retur
ned his gaze to the road, a felled tree lay in the car's crosshairs. His heart threatened to explode in his chest.

  Hank smashed down the brakes, a giant cloud of dirt exploding around them. As soon as he came to a stop, he cut the engine and headlights.

  Breath shallow, he whipped around to look out the back window as his pulse slowed to a less death-defying speed. Sitting in the dark, silent car, he watched for the truck.

  After ten minutes of expecting the worst, he turned to face Beth.

  “That was close,” she deadpanned in the dark.

  His girl was back. Her wry tone made him smile. “Yeah, that's putting it mildly.”

  “Let's get the hell out of here before she finds us.”

  “Good plan. Call dispatch and let them know what happened.” He flicked the key and the engine sputtered to life. The car chugged into reverse for half a foot before the tires spun, useless in the deep ruts caused by the ATVs that normally owned this access road. “Shit.”

  “What?” The ringing of her call going through to the sheriff's office blared from her cellphone.

  “We're stuck.”

  “Isn't that—” The dispatcher's voice on the line cut off whatever Beth was about to say.

  Beth handed over the phone to Hank, who gave dispatch a quick rundown of Sarah Jane, the attack and their location before snapping the phone shut.

  “Okay, we can't stay in the car and be sitting ducks for Sarah Jane. We're going to get close to the road, but stay inside the tree line. Deputies are on their way, but we can't give our location away.” He paused, taking in the panicky twitch in her left eye. “You with me? We're going to be alright.”

  She nodded. “Let's do it.”

  Even freaked out of her mind, she held her own. If it took the next six decades, he'd make her understand just how much he loved her. Kids or no kids, he didn’t give a damn. “Stick close.”

  They eased out of the car, leaving the doors open to avoid unnecessary noise. Around them the normal night sounds of coyote howls and scurrying nocturnal creatures covered their footsteps. The moonlight filtered through the tree branches, allowing only enough light to see a few feet in front as they made their way through to the road.

  Beth stayed close behind him, mimicking his moves and stepping where he did. Swift, but careful, they made their way up a gentle slope.

  Straining his ears, he tried to pick out the sound of human footsteps among the rustle of dried leaves. Nothing.

  Almost there. The tense muscles in his shoulders unwound.

  He could just make out the shiny pebbles on the highway's shoulder when the unmistakable sense of impending danger sent goose bumps marching down his arms.

  The Bighorn Hills turned silent, not even a breeze blew.

  Halting, he grabbed Beth's arm, pulling her close as he scanned the area. Shadows hid reality. Was that a tree branch or an attacker's arm? Was that the crunch of leaves crushed under a coyote's paw or Sarah Jane's foot? Damn, he wished he had his gun.

  After a minute of staring into nothingness, without another sign of an imminent attack, he took a cautious step forward.

  So focused on looking out for Sarah Jane, he never noticed the snake hole until it was too late.

  His ankle twisted and he tumbled to the ground, pulling Beth down with him. Burning pain shot up his leg and he barely managed to swallow a groan of agony so as to not alert their stalker.

  He needn't have worried.

  The unmistakable click of a gun being cocked echoed through the brush.

  Like a ghost appearing, Sarah Jane stepped out of the shadows, pointing a silver handgun at them. “It’s time for you to pay.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Even with her nose buried in the dank dirt and Hank half covering her with his bulk, Beth knew that voice. She'd never heard it raised in anger or whiny with frustration. Not like now, when a tinge of crazy had sharpened the consonants and emphasized the nasal Midwestern twang.

  For most of her life, that voice had been a part of her world. She'd sat silent and sweaty under the oak kitchen table to eavesdrop while her abuelita and Sarah Jane drank iced tea and gossiped on hot summer days. When she’d joined Webster and Carter, Sarah Jane had given her the welcome-aboard tour, eased her nerves and warned her about Ed Webster's wandering hands. At the conference in Vegas, they'd chatted about scrapbooking and Sin City's inherent tackiness.

  Now, that same voice announced she and Hank were about to die with no more inflection than if she'd said it looked like rain tonight.

  Determination to survive stiffened Beth's spine and gave her the courage to face her enemy. Pressing her hands to the cool, hard-packed dirt, she stood up and came eye-to-eye with Sarah Jane's fury.

  “How could you let it happen to him?” Her steel-gray bob gleamed in the moonlight and hate blazed from her eyes.

  This wasn't what Beth had expected. “What are you talking about? I haven't done anything to anyone.”

  “Do you know how long it took me to find him? How many hours I stayed in the office searching for him?” Anger shook her voice, took it an octave higher. “Computer records. Personnel files. Wills. Trusts. Looking for clues, any nugget of information. I knew his father wouldn't have let him go far, even after he stole him from my arms.”

  “Sarah Jane, you need to put the gun down.” Hank stood up, his weight heavy on his left leg. “We'll sit down and get everything worked out.”

  Fear tickled the back of Beth's neck, adding to the frenzied turmoil insider her like a cool breeze on a freezing night. Hank was hurt. He must have twisted his ankle in the fall.

  On the verge of freaking out when he sent her a reassuring smile, Beth focused her mind on the immediate danger.

  As if he'd never spoken, Sarah Jane went on with her rant, gun trained on Beth. “How could you let him get murdered? It was supposed to be you. Wasn’t becoming his father’s favorite enough for you? Did you have to take his life too?”

  “Who are you talking about?”

  “Shut up and get down on your knees.”

  Going after the gun wasn't an option. She'd never get close enough before Sarah Jane got off a shot. Scanning the ground out of the corner of her eye, she looked for weapons. A rock. Big stick. Anything. But the most dangerous thing she found was a trio of dark mushrooms growing at the base of a pine tree. Fuck.

  Hands outstretched and right foot barely touching the uneven ground, Hank hobbled forward. “I can only imagine what you've been through. I'm sure once you tell us everything we'll understand. But please, lower the gun.”

  Sarah Jane's gaze flicked over to him for half a second. Then, with as much care and thought as a person gave to swatting a fly, she fired.

  The crack boomed through the trees.

  A flurry of beating wings exploded around them while birds took to the sky, escaping the death and fear palpable in the underbrush.

  Hank crumbled, blood soaking through his pants near his right knee.

  Adrenaline rocketed Beth toward Hank. Forgetting Sarah Jane, the gun and everything except for him, she rushed to his side. The dry October leaves crunched under her knees as she dropped down, taking his head onto her lap.

  “Hank.” His name tore from her lips, more a desperate cry than anything else.

  “Don't worry.” He gritted out the words through clenched teeth. “She got my bum knee.”

  A joke. Her heart was lodged in her throat and he had the gall to make a joke about getting shot. Relief soaked into her bones. “Hank Layton, you're such a pain in the ass.”

  He smirked up at her. “Is that your way of saying you love me?”

  Looking down at the man she'd dreamed about for years, she stopped fighting and opened herself up to the truth. “Yeah, it is.”

  “You two really make me sick.” Bitterness thickened Sarah Jane's voice. “It's not real. Love never is. You know what is though? Revenge. Taking your time, planning everything down to the last bit and then breaking someone into teeny, tiny, jag
ged pieces.”

  Heat raced through Beth and she ripped her attention from the man she loved to the woman who threatened him. “How could you do this? Ruin lives for what? Petty revenge?”

  “Petty?” She raised her face to the sky and cackled. “No, when someone kills the woman you were and steals your child, petty is not the word for it.”

  Hank squeezed her hand, slid his cellphone from his back pocket and pushed it into her hand. “Voice record memo,” he whispered and struggled into a sitting position against a tree trunk.

  Not wanting to draw attention to the phone, she fumbled with it in the shadow until her thumb found the record button on the side. Pay dirt.

  “You're under arrest, Sarah Jane Hunihan. You have the right to remain silent…”

  As he gave the Miranda warning, understanding blossomed. Backup would be here soon, they needed to keep Sarah Jane talking until then. Recording her confession could be a boon for the prosecution, if the judge ruled it admissible.

  “Do you understand these rights?”

  “I love your optimism, Sheriff, but I'm not going to jail. Not until I break that bastard.”

  “Who?” Beth prodded.

  “Imagine a young secretary at a big law firm, in love with one of the partners, who's promised to leave his country club wife for her. She becomes pregnant. He swears that if the secretary gives up the baby for adoption, he'll leave his wife. The stupid, naive secretary does it. So what's he do? Ed Webster scrapes her from his life like a piece of gum from the bottom of his shoe.”

  “That's horrible. I'm so sorry.” Hank said.

  “I don't need your pity. I didn't then and I don't now. I waited. Watched him. Looked for weakness, all the time searching for my boy. A year ago I found him right here in Dry Creek, an attorney just like his father. Phil had always wondered about his birth parents.”

  “Phil? Phil Harris was your son?” Shock rippled across her skin.

  “I know, not the man I imagined my son would grow up into, but I blame myself. If I hadn't given him up, he would have been stronger, less concerned with revealing himself to his father sooner rather than later. It took me months to convince him that his father wasn't ready and that if he'd just wait a little longer, the timing would be perfect. That timing would have been after I'd crushed him. I didn't have the same outcome when persuading Phil not to worry so much about your safety.” She leveled the gun at Beth's head. “Poor little Beth Martinez. You were all that stood between me and my revenge. I'd waited so long. I couldn't let someone as insignificant as you stand in my way.”