Closing the door behind her, Beckett moved ahead of her deeper into the house. His boots echoed off the dark hardwood flooring, each step a physical and invisible wedge between them. “I’ve got the documents in the kitchen and some snacks if you need. I know it’s a long drive, and I’m guessing you probably didn’t think to pack anything to eat before you left.”
“I didn’t.” She followed him into the kitchen and ran her fingers across the cold white granite of the kitchen island as he rounded behind it. A stack of documents and pens had been positioned on one side, along with a couple of bottled waters and an assortment of fresh fruit. The weight of his attention constricted the air in her lungs. She reached for the papers. “You could’ve emailed me the documents. We didn’t have to meet all the way out here.”
“The papers aren’t the only thing I wanted to have you look over.” Beckett came around the island, every muscle across his chest and along his shoulders flexing and releasing with each step, and her skin prickled with his proximity. A combination of pine and hard work dived into her lungs as he slid something across the granite. The scrape of metal jarred her back from the edge of leaning into him.
Keys? Raleigh pinched the metal ring between her index finger and thumb, studying them as though she’d be able to recognize them at a glance. “What are these for?”
“This place.” Beckett pressed his palms onto the stone as he leveled that blue gaze on her. “It’s yours.”
What? Her throat got tight. “I’m sorry. I think my brain left my body there for a second. Can you repeat that?”
“In the hospital you told me you’d imagined waking up here every day, of teaching our daughter to ride, that it’d all felt real when you were here. So I bought the property back from the Marshals Service before it could go to public auction, and I’m giving it to you. These papers aren’t for custody of our daughter. They’re to sign the deed to this place over to you.” He stepped into her, unbearably close, which forced her to look up at him, and she suddenly didn’t have the mind to confirm what the papers said.
She only had attention for him. For all that dark hair she’d run her fingers through a dozen times, for the strong tendons between his neck and shoulders she’d held on to when they’d been on the run for their lives, for the softness of his mouth when he’d kissed her. She planted her hand against his chest, her head urging her to push him away, to regain her composure, but the familiar beat of his heart under her palm reverberated through her.
He’d bought her the ranch?
“I know why you wanted the lawyers involved, and you had every reason to get as far from me as you could these past couple of weeks. Seeing how this anger I’ve carried around has hurt you and any chance I have at being a father to that baby girl brought me to the lowest point of my life.” He lowered his gaze to her hands as he took them both in his. “I’ve been hanging on to it as a crutch for so long, I wasn’t sure I could get by if I had to let it go, but you leaving made me realize I wanted you more than I wanted to hate Hank. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forgive him for what he’s done, but I’m willing to try. For you. For our baby.”
He smoothed calming circles into the backs of her hands, and she was overtaken by need. By the feeling of complete and utter destruction she’d been trying to ignore since she’d been discharged from the hospital. “I can’t take another second being apart from you. I can’t live the rest of my life handing off our daughter at neutral locations or only seeing you for a few minutes at a time every couple of weeks. I can’t pretend I’m okay with the thought of you finding someone else or being with anyone other than me. I can’t. I’m in love with you, Raleigh, and I want to work to make you and our daughter happy for the rest of our lives. And that means I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”
He released her and dropped to one knee.
“What are you doing?” She slid her hand over her stomach, waiting for reassurance as she’d done a hundred times over the past few months, but she couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t breathe. He’d bought her a ranch to show he loved her. She’d gotten so used to people walking away over the years, to pretending their actions hadn’t hurt, but the truth was Beckett had cut deeper than them all. He’d cut through her sense of worthlessness, her feeling of being unwanted by everyone around her, cut through the numbness she was comfortable living with the rest of her life. Where others had left her empty and exhausted, he’d made her whole and given her a gift no one else had ever before: hope for the future.
“Raleigh Wilde, I love you.” Beckett pulled a small black box from his front pocket and flipped it open. In the center of lush cream silk was a simple solitaire embedded in a thick band, and the connection she’d relied on during those terrifying few days of their secret investigation flooded through her. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes.” She fell into him and wrapped her arms around his neck as she straddled him right there in the middle of the kitchen floor. Her kitchen floor. He held on to her, and everything she’d ever wanted came within reach. A stable home, a partner who had her back, a family. It was all hers. Raleigh slid her mouth over his, her heart threatening to beat straight out of her chest. “I love you, too, but the next time you feel the need to arrest me, you better be ready for the fight of your life.”
Beckett wrapped her in the circle of his arms. “The next time I feel the need to arrest you, I promise to give you a head start.”
* * * * *
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ISBN-13: 9781488067129
The Fugitive
Copyright © 2021 by Natascha Jaffa
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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www.Harlequin.com
“I don’t know why she’s doing this, but Darcy would never hurt those kids.”
“She already has,” Peter snapped. “She kidnapped them. Don’t you remember how that felt?”
He sighed, not wanting to tell Alanna about his own past, but wondering if that was the best way to reach her.
“I do remember. I still have nightmares about it sometimes. I know you don’t understand how I can—” she took an audible breath “—love them.”
“I do understand that.” Or at least, he understood that she thought w
hat she felt was love, instead of a complicated mix of fear and dependency multiplied over fourteen years. “Stockholm syndrome is real. It’s—”
Her snort of disbelief cut him off. She looked offended. “I got a psychology degree after I left Alaska. I understand why you think that’s what’s happening here, but don’t forget—I’m the one who turned them in. They both went to jail because I left that note. My… Julian died because of me.”
Alaska Mountain Rescue
Elizabeth Heiter
Elizabeth Heiter likes her suspense to feature strong heroines, chilling villains, psychological twists and a little romance. Her research has taken her into the minds of serial killers, through murder investigations and onto the FBI Academy’s shooting range. Elizabeth graduated from the University of Michigan with a degree in English literature. She’s a member of International Thriller Writers and Romance Writers of America. Visit Elizabeth at www.elizabethheiter.com.
Books by Elizabeth Heiter
Harlequin Intrigue
K-9 Defense
Secret Investigation
Alaska Mountain Rescue
The Lawmen: Bullets and Brawn
Bodyguard with a Badge
Police Protector
Secret Agent Surrender
The Lawmen
Disarming Detective
Seduced by the Sniper
SWAT Secret Admirer
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Alanna Morgan—She spent most of her childhood with people who kidnapped her. When she turned them in, she thought she’d never return to Alaska. But when the woman who pretended to be her mother escapes from jail—and grabs more kids—Alanna thinks it’s her duty to help. Still, she’s not prepared for the memories—or the temptation of Peter Robak.
Peter Robak—The rookie police officer thinks Alanna can help him prove himself by leading him to the kidnapper. But as he falls for her, he may have to make a choice: Alanna’s life or the children.
Chance—Alanna’s loyal St. Bernard was a therapy dog back in Chicago, but in Alaska, he discovers a natural talent for snow rescue.
Darcy Altier—She and her husband raised Alanna with love. But since her “daughter” turned them in, no one knows whether Alanna’s presence will help bring Darcy in peacefully—or make her more dangerous.
Tate Emory—Peter’s partner in the Desparre PD reluctantly follows Peter’s lead, hoping that using Alanna as bait will bring Darcy out of hiding.
Keara Hernandez—The Desparre PD chief thinks Alanna is a liability—one that may cost Peter his career.
Acknowledgments
Writing a book is often just me, my parrot and my computer. But the process of bringing a book to life takes many! My deepest thanks to my editor, Denise Zaza; my agent, Kevan Lyon; and everyone behind the scenes at Harlequin who helped get Alaska Mountain Rescue to readers. A special thanks to my family and friends, who are always my biggest cheerleaders: Andrew Gulli, Chris Heiter, Kathryn Merhar, Alan Merhar, Caroline Heiter, Kristen Kobet and Robbie Terman. And a special thanks to my writer pals, who met me virtually or in person to get all the words: Heather Novak, Dana Nussio, Tyler Anne Snell and Janie Crouch.
This book is for my new brother and sister, Farris and Lamia, who have made the word in-law sound amazing.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
CHAPTER ONE
The whispers started the moment she stepped into town.
“It’s her. The kidnapped girl. The one from five years ago.”
“The one who almost got her real sister killed?”
Alanna tried to ignore the sidelong glances from the two women peering at her from the open door of the grocery store. In a place like Desparre, Alaska, the stares and chatter were likely to bring more people.
Alanna hunched her shoulders, trying to disappear into her heavy coat as she picked up her pace. Still, she felt their accusatory gazes bore into her. The pace of her breathing picked up, sweat breaking out all over her body. This was the side effect of sending the “parents” who’d raised her for fourteen years to jail and then returning to another state, to a family she’d tried so hard to remember but didn’t quite fit into anymore. The side effect of spending too long dodging reporters desperate to be the one to break her silence and get the inside story of her abduction.
The voices faded as the women disappeared back into the grocery store, one of a handful of buildings that lined Desparre’s small downtown area. It looked so tiny compared to the suburb on the outskirts of Chicago where she’d returned after living in the remote wilderness of Alaska with the family who’d kidnapped her.
Even after being gone for five long years, in many ways, Alaska still felt like home.
Alanna took a deep breath of the crisp, cool air and closed her eyes, letting the familiar sounds and smells and sights calm her. At her side, her St. Bernard, Chance, recognized her method for coping with anxiety and scooted up against her, then promptly sat.
A minute later, the sound of Chance’s low, sustained growl made her eyes pop back open.
The St. Bernard was definitely a gentle giant, more likely to thump his tail and wait for a belly rub than go after anyone. But his size and his warning growl never failed to make people who were a little too aggressive back up fast.
In the past, Chance had used that growl on a handful of particularly determined reporters who’d stuck with her for years, following her around and ambushing her at the most unexpected times, seeking a candid photo or a sound bite. Because no matter how much time passed, she was still one of those women. A name that had made national headlines. A story she could never outgrow. Today, Chance was using his growl on the police officer who’d somehow managed to get close while her eyes were shut.
His startling blue eyes darted to her dog, then back to her. “Miss, do you need hel—”
The words trailed off as those blue eyes widened slightly. In a face made up of sharp angles and pale skin, his eyes were especially compelling. His tone was less friendly, more suspicious as he said, “Alanna Altier?”
“Morgan,” she corrected. The name of her birth family, instead of the family who’d raised her for most of her childhood. After five years, the name Morgan was finally starting to feel less foreign on her lips.
“Morgan,” he repeated. His gaze swept the space behind her, as if the woman who’d raised her—who’d helped kidnap her and four other children over the span of eighteen years and then escaped from police custody five days ago—would suddenly appear.
Anxiety started to swell again and Chance scooted even closer, his warm fur pressing against her leg, his big head nuzzling her.
Absently petting him, Alanna kept her eyes on the officer. She didn’t recognize him. Not that she would—the Altiers had kept her and her “siblings” far from prying eyes, especially law enforcement eyes. She’d been to town before, but more often she’d stayed home, spending most of her days inside the house she’d helped build. Or in the dozen acres surrounding it that the Altiers owned, a buffer from them and the rest of the world. At times, it had felt like an oasis. At others, it had seemed more like a cage.
The
officer’s narrowed eyes locked on hers again, unsettling in their singular focus. “I thought you’d moved back to Chicago, with your real family.”
It was somewhere between a statement and a question and Alanna tried not to fixate on the word real. She loved the Morgans, the parents who’d enveloped her in hugs the moment she’d stepped back through their door, who’d kept all her belongings from when she had disappeared from their lives at five years old. The big brother, who’d stared at her with huge, teary eyes before breaking into a shaky smile and whispering, “I can’t believe it. You’re finally home.” The older sister, who’d traveled across the country on the slimmest of leads, who’d almost died trying to save her.
“I did,” Alanna finally answered. “But—”
“But Darcy Altier is back to her old tricks. And you think…what? She’s coming back here?”
Darcy Altier. The woman she’d called “Mom” for fourteen years. Alanna had always known she’d been kidnapped, remembered with startling clarity the moment when Julian Altier had yanked her out of her yard in Illinois and into his car. But Darcy and Julian had never harmed her. They’d treated her like their own child, held her when she cried, smiled with her in happy times. They’d loved her. Despite everything else, she knew that.
Over those fourteen years, she’d grown to love them, too. She’d also grown to love the other children the Altiers had kidnapped, her “siblings.” She missed all of them with an ache that was hard to explain to anyone, least of all the family who’d waited and searched for her all those years.
“Well?” the officer pressed, shifting so his right side was angled toward her. The side where a gun was holstered at his hip.
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