Monroe, Melody S. - Verdict (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Melody S. Monroe

  His breaths evened out, and he emitted soft puffs of air. He’d fallen asleep. Good.

  She wanted to talk with him about what made him tick, but tonight’s explanation of his tattoo might be more than he’d shared with anyone in a while. He would never know how much they had in common. He acted distant and detached, yet focused on bringing justice to the world.

  She did, too. In fact, her coworkers told her to her face she was a cold bitch. Later, she’d overheard one attorney say it was no wonder Carlton had strayed. She probably sucked in bed.

  That wasn’t true. She just hadn’t found anyone she wanted to give her soul to. Her mom had loved her growing up, but over the years her mother had turned to alcohol, more so after Craig’s accident and then again after Dad died. Her daddy had doted on her, but again, only when he was home and not working at the office in order to protect the world from criminals. Yet her life was bliss compared to Stone’s.

  What she wouldn’t give to get a hold of his good friend T-Squared to find out the lowdown on the enigmatic Stone Watson.

  He shifted his weight in the bed and a rush of hormones startled her. She was running for her life and had to pay attention to everyone around her, but all she could think about lately was Stone.

  She tried to ignore the image of the little boy desperate for affection and focused on relaxing but sleep didn’t come. Her mind bounced between the fire, the dead jurors, and Stone. Mostly on Stone and how much pain he’d gone through in his life.

  She scooted closer to his side. His weight held down the sheet, preventing her from getting too close. The metaphor didn’t escape her notice. She leaned in closer. His skin smelled of minty soap. She reached out to touch his silky hair. Quicker than she could react, he reached across his shoulder and grabbed her wrist.

  Her heart stopped for a moment and her throat clogged. Did he have eyes on the side of his head? How had he known she wanted to touch him?

  “Need something?” he said in a carefree voice.

  Had he been waiting for her to make the first move? She could have sworn he’d been asleep a moment ago.

  Before she could think, he let go of her wrist. She cleared her throat. “Just checking you were still there.” Very lame.

  This time he laughed. “If you want me to get under the covers so we can cuddle, just say the word.”

  Exactly what she wanted. “No!”

  “Thought so. Get some sleep. We’ll need it.”

  Like that would ever happen now. She’d crossed the boundary of propriety this time and wasn’t sure if she wanted to step over the line again.

  Chapter Nine

  Stone got up at dawn and did his bathroom routine before Susan awoke. He failed to erase the image of her sweet face holding on to his every word as he let her glimpse what his life had been like after his mom died. Susan didn’t judge, didn’t criticize, didn’t show signs of pity. She just listened to him, as if he were the most important person in the room. Yes, she wanted more details, but he couldn’t talk about his life yet. Not until he knew she trusted him completely.

  He searched his brain for the last time he’d told anyone about his tattoo. Tom had seen the image but never asked what the flower meant.

  Stone stood over her bed. Susan looked more at peace than he’d ever seen her. She was prettier, younger, more vulnerable. Something inside him nearly cracked at the connection they’d made last night, but he shoved down his emotions. Even though he’d had several girlfriends, there was something special about Susan. He liked her assertiveness, her bravery, her can-do outlook on life.

  Even before he shared his story, he’d been interested in her, despite the fact she constantly challenged him, then rejected him, but when she reached out to touch him last night, his self control had nearly broken. He was just kidding with her about getting under the covers and snuggling, but if she’d wanted to, that meant she trusted him, and trust was what he sought.

  Her lids fluttered, and he stepped back. What if she had agreed to the touching, the cuddling, and maybe even kissing? Hell if he knew. He probably would have jumped out of bed and slept in the chair. Getting involved would cloud his vision, his focus, his ability to keep her alive.

  Not wanting to further address his reaction to the adorable woman, he stepped outside, telling himself he needed to check the parking lot for mysterious men with submachine guns pointed at the door.

  The air was chillier than he’d expected for a Florida morning. Only one couple was up and about. He stayed outside for several minutes until he thought he heard Susan call his name.

  She wasn’t in the bed when he went back inside, but the running water told him she’d taken his place in the bathroom. Just as well. He needed to touch base with T-Squared, and it might be better if she didn’t hear the conversation. He clicked open his phone, the cell becoming like a third arm. He longed for the day when he could talk to his colleagues in person.

  “Hiya, Stone.”

  Tom sounded way too chipper. He must have just gotten home. “How did Harrison, Richard, and the rest of gang react to Marcadis’ death?”

  “Like you’d expect. The shit hit the fan. Richard looked like he was having a heart attack. I think he was tempted to fly down to North Carolina and protect one of the last two jurors himself. Harrison stayed calm for a while, then started ordering us to do things. I left, so I don’t know what transpired after that.”

  “What’s the Bureau’s plan of attack?”

  “Thomason insisted we post bodyguards at each of the remaining jurors’ places. They’re on their way to Atlanta and Brevard right now.”

  “That’s great.”

  “I almost forgot. Both Harrison and Richard have been trying to get a hold of you. Said you’re not answering your cell. They’re worried.”

  Someone arguing outside in the parking lot drew his attention. He pulled open the drapes. Just a man yelling at his kids.

  “I know. I don’t want to talk to them. Tell them I dropped my phone and ran over it with the car. I contacted you via a pay phone and don’t know when I’ll find one again.”

  “That’s really lame, but I’ll let them know.” Tom’s voice lowered to almost a whisper. “Where are you headed?”

  “To Atlanta. Bodyguard or not, I want to warn the juror.”

  “Good for you. I’ll be in touch if anything comes up, or if I can find a phone number for them.”

  “Thanks.”

  They both disconnected, acutely aware long calls were traceable. He needed to get a prepaid phone, one where the FBI couldn’t find him.

  Susan popped out of the bathroom, hair washed, cleanly bandaged and sexy as hell in her tight jeans and equally tight top. Quite the change from the baggy sweats.

  “What’s our plan?” She unzipped her suitcase with a slow, easy pull, but the strong grip on the zipper told him she was anything but calm.

  “We drive to Atlanta.”

  She glanced up at him. “Who’s there?”

  “Ashley Wood.”

  Susan’s hands, full of clothes, froze in midair. “She was the young one. I think she was a senior at American when she served on the jury. Her lips turned into a frown. “Sweet girl. She must be so afraid.”

  “I don’t think she knows about the other jurors. We’ve kept that information as quiet as possible.”

  “I meant the whole relocation process would be upsetting for her.”

  She stuffed her clothes and toiletries kit into her suitcase and closed the lid, then swiped a hand over her hair. The gray circles under her eyes appeared more pronounced today. The traveling was wearing on her, but they couldn’t afford to sit still. They had to let the other jurors know to be extra careful.

  He picked up both her case and his. “Let’s boogie.”

  If Phillip Marcadis’ place was discovered within a day or two of the witness’ arrival, someone had excellent intel—too good, in fact. No telling who knew where they were.

  Susan climbed in the front seat. Her m
ovements were more fluid today, which meant her wounds were on the mend. Eventually, they’d need a doctor to take out her stitches, but for now her injuries wouldn’t prevent them from the five-hour drive ahead.

  He placed the luggage in the trunk and climbed in the driver’s seat. As they exited the lot, a black SUV pulled behind them. Given they were at a motel, it wasn’t surprising other guests would leave at this early hour, but he remembered another black SUV on their way to Marcadis’ house. Too bad one in every ten cars fit the description.

  He drove slightly under the speed limit, thinking anyone willing to go that slowly would be an obvious tail. Staying in the right lane for less than a mile, he drove underneath the interstate in the hopes the black car would hop onto I-75. No such luck.

  The number of restaurants thinned, making him question where this guy was going. Stone had debated eating breakfast once they got on the road, but this guy was bugging him. He turned into a car dealership, did a U-turn and headed back the other way.

  “Where are you going?” The tension in Susan’s voice cut him deep.

  “I won’t lie to you. I thought someone was following us, but when I turned around, we lost him.” He glanced over at her. “Do you mind if we catch a bite to eat here? I want to make sure this guy doesn’t get any ideas.”

  “Sure.”

  He wanted a place that was fast and had good visibility of the parking lot and the clientele. Waffle House provided the perfect venue. Unfortunately, the parking lot wrapped around the building, and while he could see all the patrons inside, he wouldn’t be able to tell if a black SUV had pulled in. Two out of three would have to do.

  The aroma of waffles, grease, and bacon permeated the restaurant. Less than half the booths were filled. He pointed to a spot near the entrance for a fast getaway.

  Susan and he were half way into their meal, when a man in his mid to late thirties walked in. He glanced around, and when his gaze lingered on him and Susan, the hair on the back of Stone’s neck prickled. The stranger proceeded to take a booth two away from them when three other booths on the far end were vacant.

  Something about the short, stocky man looked familiar, but no name surfaced. He didn’t want to frighten Susan, but he thought she might know him.

  “Don’t look now, but there’s a man two booths behind you.” He kept his voice to a near whisper. “He’s dressed in a nice polo and an expensive jacket. His watch must have set him back five hundred bucks. Would you mind going into the bathroom, waiting a minute, then coming out? When you walk back to the booth, take a quick peek at the guy. Be as unobtrusive as possible. Can you do that?”

  Her face paled. She drained the rest of her orange juice as if she needed some fortification and got up, her shoulders way too stiff.

  The waitress ambled over. “Can I get you anything else, sugar?”

  “Just the check.”

  The drab brunette, who was missing a front tooth, slipped a hand in her pocket and produced the ticket. “Here ya go, hon.”

  Head lowered, he pretended to study the bill. When the bathroom door opened behind him, he stood, and made a big deal of finding money in his wallet. A different waitress placed a waffle in front of the newcomer.

  He turned back to Susan and whispered as she stepped next to him. “Let me pay and we can go.”

  She followed behind him, her tits brushing against him every few steps. He stiffened. As they passed the suspect, he hoped she’d take a good look. Since all the waitresses were busy, he placed a twenty on the counter and waved to catch her eye. She held up a finger. Not needing the change, they left.

  Wrapping an arm around Susan’s waist to make it appear as if they were a couple instead of a bodyguard and potential witness, he led her outside. Once they were out of sight of the plate glass walls, he asked if she recognized the man.

  She bit her bottom lip. “I think I’ve seen him, but I can’t be certain where or under what circumstances.”

  “Think back to the Caravello trial. Was he in the courtroom?” With her focusing on the man’s face, he prayed his own image didn’t surface.

  “Nothing.”

  “In that case, I’ll take some back roads and get on the interstate north of here. It’ll be harder to tail us on a road not well traveled.”

  She shivered. “Sounds good.”

  The pep in her step increased. As they drove out of the lot, Stone glanced inside at the booth where the man had been sitting. The seat was empty.

  His gut clenched.

  After traveling north for twenty minutes, he was lulled into believing no one was interested in them. A few fast-moving vehicles piled up behind them on the two lane road, and he let them pass. No black SUV ever showed up. While he enjoyed the drive on the narrow, winding road, the interstate would be faster since time was critical. He refused to let what happened to Phillip Marcadis happen to Ashley Wood.

  He’d just rounded a curve when someone slammed into the back of his car, jarring him out of his trance. “Jesus Christ.”

  Susan grunted as her body propelled forward.

  He thrust a hand to stop her from smashing into the dash, but luckily her seat belt held her in place.

  “You okay?” he said.

  “Kind of.” Her breaths came out fast, her brows pinched as if she was holding in the pain.

  He shot a glance at the rearview mirror. A red pickup truck was about fifty feet behind him but gaining speed quickly. He wasn’t sure who’d hit him but figured it had to have been the truck directly behind him. But why? Was the driver drunk? This early in the day?

  Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he tightened his grip on the wheel. With one eye on the rearview mirror, he sped up, not daring to pull over. If it was an accident, the person who hit him would be glad not to get involved in an insurance claim. If the driver had meant to harm them, he needed to get the hell away from there.

  He pressed his foot to the floor, fishtailing on the road. A cloud blocked the morning sun, casting the ground in shadow. The wind whipped the trees all of a sudden as if a front had descended on them. He took his gaze off the road for a second and one wheel slipped off the road onto the dirt berm. Muscles taught and fingers clutching the wheel, he managed to bring the car onto the pavement.

  Susan gripped the dashboard. “What’s happening?” Her voice came out an octave too high.

  “I’m not sure what the hell that was about.” No need to upset her any more, especially when he didn’t have all the facts.

  If he’d been able to do a U-turn without flipping over, he would have.

  The red truck was gaining on them. They were the only two vehicles on the road, and no one had passed them coming from the opposite direction in over five minutes. A long bend was up ahead, with a large ditch to the right side. As he held tight around the curve, the truck pulled alongside in the oncoming lane. How had he sped up so fast? Damn his four cylinders.

  The truck’s tinted windows prevented Stone from seeing who was behind the wheel. He debated slamming on his brakes but decided his best option was to try to keep ahead of this maniac.

  Pressing his foot to the floor, his car shook as he approached eighty. The bend in the road steepened, and his wheels began to slide off the pavement to the right. The truck kept up with him and bumped into the driver’s side, sending the car sideways. Stone held tight, but the small vehicle wouldn’t hold.

  Without warning, the truck pulled ahead and turned in front of Stone. He jerked the wheel to the right to avoid a head-on collision. His rental flew off the road. The dirt bit the tires, slowing the car, and rocks pummeled the undercarriage as the vibration shook them. His arms wobbled as he tried to keep control of the vehicle.

  “Stone?”

  Her whimper increased his resolve to bring the car under control. A large tree stood fifty feet in front of them, coming fast. He slammed on the brakes and pulled the wheels to the left. His head propelled forward, and his forehead smashed into the steering wheel. Pain seared his brai
n. The car bucked and bumped.

  Then everything blanked out.

  Chapter Ten

  Susan’s body had shot toward the dash and she’d tried to brace herself. Her left knee had hit the dashboard, sending lightning-like bolts of pain up her thigh. The seat belt tore into her body and stopped her cold.

  The engine cut off.

  Her mind went numb for a moment. She pushed back in her seat, her breath whooshing out of her. She cut her gaze to the left. Stone! His body lay crumpled over the steering wheel.

  She squeezed his shoulder. “Stone?” Blood raced through her veins.

  Her chest throbbed from the pressure where the seat belt had bit into her, inches from her previous injury. She hurt like hell, but at least she was alive—and more importantly, alert.

  His moan sent a sliver of joy to her heart. He was alive!

  He lifted his head an inch then dropped it back onto the steering wheel, his arms limp at his side. Blood coursed down the bridge of his nose from the head wound.

  “Can you hear me?” Her voice shook.

  She wanted to shake him hard to rouse him, but if she moved him and he had a concussion, she might do more harm.

  She scanned the road to see if anyone was around to help them, or if the red truck was hell-bent on killing them. No one was about. There was little doubt the driver meant to injure them, so why leave before seeing the deed complete?

  Stone’s bleeding had to take top priority before she got help, assuming someone would drive by on this relatively deserted country route. They’d gone off the pavement a good hundred feet into a low-lying area. Someone from above might not even notice them unless she made it up to the ridge and flagged down a car.

  She checked the glove box for some tissues, but it was empty. Damn. Her suitcase was in the trunk. The blood had already run down his shirt. He needed help now.

  Susan pulled off her lightweight sweater, wadded the material into a ball and pressed the bandage to his forehead.