Presumed Dead (Love Inspired Suspense)

by Angela Ruth Strong

  THREAT OF EXPOSURE

  Framed for a sabotaged military operation, Preston Tyler has allowed everyone to believe he’s dead—until he witnesses someone planting a bomb in his childhood sweetheart’s cabin. To save Holly Fontaine’s life, he must blow his cover. Holly is shaken…both by the explosion and the sudden appearance of a man she thought she’d lost forever. But their reunion is short-lived when the bomb planter returns, forcing their escape into Lake Tahoe’s wilderness. As they struggle to survive, memories of their shared past reignite old feelings. Holly refuses to lose Preston again, but with their pursuer closing in, will the ultimate betrayal tear them apart for good?

  “Are those bullets? Are we being shot at?”

  “Yes.” Preston slammed the door to the smaller room and barricaded it with a chair under the knob. “Get online and contact the police. I’m going to keep the shooter away from you.”

  Holly logged into the internet from a kneeling position.

  “9-1-1. What is your emergency?” The voice echoed over computer speakers.

  “We are being shot at.”

  We? Did she just say “we”? Preston craned his neck around to send her a warning look.

  Holly covered her mouth, eyes wide.

  “Have you been shot?” the voice asked.

  “No. No. The door is locked. I’m inside the computer room at Cedar Glen Lodge.”

  “Police are on their way. Has anyone else been shot?”

  Preston splayed his hands as if getting arrested. Unless Holly did some quick damage control, he’d soon be in handcuffs.

  Or he’d be dead.

  The door vibrated as a body slammed into the other side.

  Angela Ruth Strong sold her first article to a national magazine while still in high school and went on to study journalism at the University of Oregon. Her debut novel came out in 2010, and she’s won both the Idaho Top Author and Cascade Awards for her work. She lives with her hubby and three teenagers in Idaho, where she also started IDAhope Writers to encourage other aspiring authors.

  Books by Angela Ruth Strong

  Love Inspired Suspense

  Presumed Dead

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  PRESUMED DEAD

  Angela Ruth Strong

  I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.

  —John 10:10

  Mobilism & TP ONLY

  Dedicated to Johnathan, Ashley and Kristina—your creativity inspires me.

  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 ONE

  Preston Tyler lowered his feet from the deck railing and leaned forward as his gaze followed the Jeep pulling up next to the Fontaines’ cabin across the lake. Though he’d been forced to hide out in his own family cabin for four years since being pronounced “dead” by the military, nobody had stayed at his childhood sweetheart’s cabin at all.

  Of course, he’d heard Holly had just canceled her wedding to Caleb Brooks. Maybe she needed a place to heal.

  Preston should have considered the possibility and gone camping at Yosemite or headed to San Francisco to catch a Giants game. Honestly, a vacation in the Tenderloin District would have been better than seeing the woman he’d once loved mourn the loss of another man.

  So, he wouldn’t look. Preston inhaled deeply as he stood. Well, maybe he’d take one peek to see if it was even her. And if it was, he’d head inside until she left.

  A lanky male frame climbed out of the driver’s seat of the Jeep. Holly’s dad? Brother?

  Preston ignored the traitorous twinge of disappointment. It was better this way. Unless her family was getting the cabin ready for her arrival…

  He squinted against the blinding sun for a better look at the figure pulling luggage out of the rear gate on the navy blue Jeep Cherokee. Only one duffel bag, but the man left the back gate of the Jeep open as he focused on carrying it to the house.

  A warning alarm rang in Preston’s head. He grabbed the binoculars he usually used when scouting for fish.

  The dark man with a goatee retrieved a key from the top of the doorframe and looked around before cracking the door open. Not right. He wasn’t a Fontaine.

  Preston tracked the man’s movement through the windows. There. In the bedroom. The stranger unzipped the duffel, looked at his watch and pressed a few buttons on a device that resembled an alarm clock.

  Preston’s guts churned. He’d seen bombs before, but only in the military, never in a vacation home. Why would anybody want to blow up an old cabin? Should he call the police with an anonymous tip? Or was he imagining things?

  The man ran back through the house, replaced the key, slammed the rear gate of his Jeep and jumped into the driver’s seat. Not good.

  Preston ran a hand through his hair. He shouldn’t have been involved at all. But just because he was supposed to be dead didn’t mean he didn’t care about Holly’s family anymore. It meant he had to be discreet.

  He lifted the binoculars again to get the license plate number of the SUV. Another vehicle crossed its path, blocking the license plate from view. Another vehicle? Headed toward the cabin? Preston raised the binoculars higher to get a look at the driver.

  Holly.

  She didn’t turn or respond as the other car passed. She must not have known the man or been expecting a package. Could the stranger have set a bomb for her?

  Preston’s mind whirled with possible scenarios. Some ridiculous. Some disastrous. But the worst scenario would be the one where he stood by and watched while someone else got hurt. He’d made that mistake before.

  No matter how badly he wanted to shake the dread that gripped his heart, he couldn’t deny the fact Holly’s life might be in danger. He’d have to jump onto his parents’ old Jet Ski and race what he suspected was a bomb. Keeping his life a secret wasn’t worth risking hers.

  Preston dropped the binoculars and grabbed his keys. Adrenaline surged.

  Maybe she wouldn’t recognize him after four years. Maybe she wouldn’t believe it was even him. Or maybe she’d be too traumatized by the coming explosion to get a good look at his face.

  If he reached the cabin in time to save her.

  * * *

  Holly Fontaine kicked her shoes off and padded barefoot down the warm, smooth dock. As a child, she’d always dived right into the lake, but as a woman—specifically, a woman scorned—she had other plans.

  She pulled the sparkling engagement ring from her pocket. What had she been thinking, accepting the gaudy thing in the first place? It wasn’t even her style. Caleb had insisted he’d paid a fortune for it and she deserved it. She’d made the mistake of listening to all her friends, who were so easily charmed by his expensive taste in jewelry, perfect smile and quick wink. They’d told her she wouldn’t ever heal from a past heartbreak if she didn’t move on. Now she had a second scar. Only this one wasn’t in her heart. It was from the knife in her back.

  At least she’d com
e to a good place to heal. Though coming alone felt more like punishment than anything else. But how else was she going to learn to reconnect with God? He was the One she should have asked about Caleb in the first place rather than just assuming she was being given a second chance at love.

  “You’re enough for me, Lord,” she said aloud. But did she believe it?

  The smooth metal circle pinched between thumb and forefinger had offered promise. The promise of strong arms to hold her, as well as the promise of babies she could hold in her arms. A family. A place to belong. Now she was alone again.

  She looked past the glittering diamond to the reflection of the sun off the water. Lake Tahoe brought back so many memories. Cliff diving. Capture the flag on Fannette Island. Fishing from Preston’s canoe.

  Holly ran a hand through her new pixie haircut and sighed. Reminiscence was supposed to get her thoughts off the current pain, but instead it intensified the ache. Why was it that the good guys like Preston Tyler died serving their country while jerks like Caleb Brooks got to live it up?

  She was done thinking about Caleb. She had to move on with her life. Again. And that meant getting rid of the ring.

  Caleb had said he didn’t want it back, and she certainly didn’t want anything to do with it. Maybe in the future it would wash up onshore and become someone else’s symbol of commitment. Until then, it was her reminder of rejection.

  Taking a deep breath of fresh mountain air, Holly cocked her arm and hurled the offensive piece of jewelry as far away as she could. It disappeared in the distance, and she didn’t even get the satisfaction of hearing it plink into the water over the roar of a Jet Ski.

  Oh well. She’d done what she should have a long time ago. It was better to be alone than to be with someone who didn’t really love her. Even if it didn’t feel better.

  The dock rocked beneath her feet from the WaveRunner heading her direction. Time to get back to solid ground. Though she couldn’t help being a little envious of the driver on the watercraft. So carefree. Able to enjoy the beauty of nature without worry. Escaping the pressures of reality.

  She cast a longing gaze toward the person serving as a reminder of the kind of life she used to live. Another sad memory. Except…

  She narrowed her eyes. Tilted her head.

  Her crazy state of mind played tricks on her emotions. As if the memories weren’t bad enough. But she couldn’t look away. Couldn’t stop studying the man who reminded her a bit of someone from her past. Take off those honey-colored sideburns and the stubble… Shrink the muscles a bit… Erase the frown lines in his forehead…

  She had to stop staring. Because now the man was staring straight back. Intensity flashed in his familiar blue eyes. His lips parted. He called her name.

  He called her name?

  Holly shook her head. She had to be imagining things.

  She willed the watercraft to rocket past. To prove her hallucination wrong. To leave her alone with her irrational daydream.

  The Jet Ski slowed, sputtered, splashed cold water over her toes. The man on it extended his hand.

  The last time this had happened, she’d been twenty-four. Headed back to law school for one more year while a younger version of the man in front of her prepared for his fateful promotion as a helicopter pilot in SOAR—Special Operations Aviation Regiment.

  “No.” This wasn’t Preston. It couldn’t be. Preston was dead.

  “Get on, Holly. Now.” The voice tugged at the strings she’d used to sew her heart back together when Preston’s charred remains came home in a coffin.

  She had to be dreaming. She pinched her leg to wake herself up.

  Ouch. Her thigh stung where she’d squeezed.

  The man wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her toward the Jet Ski. “This is real.”

  Real what? A real kidnapping?

  “Who are you?” Her voice rose in panic.

  She couldn’t just climb on behind a stranger. If he didn’t look so much like Preston, she would have pushed him off the watercraft by now.

  “It’s me, Holly.”

  Her mind whirled, almost pulling her head back with the weight of her thoughts. Preston was alive. He was on Lake Tahoe in front of her.

  She covered her mouth with her free hand. This was impossible. Unless the corpse in the coffin had belonged to someone else and Preston had recently been released from some kind of POW camp.

  She scanned his body, looking for injuries. If she climbed onto the Jet Ski too fast, would she hurt him? This was so unbelievable.

  He tugged her arm. “Hurry, doll.”

  Her heart reeled at the old nickname. This was Preston all right. In a daze, she slid behind him and clutched both arms around his middle. He was more solid than she remembered. At least he hadn’t been malnourished.

  He gunned the engine. The Jet Ski tipped backward as it took off. Just like old times—

  Except for the loud blast that erupted behind her. Hot air warmed her skin. Pushed against her. She craned her neck around to see fire shoot into the sky from her family cabin.

  Her throat went dry. She clutched Preston tighter. If he hadn’t just picked her up, she would be dead. But why? And how had he known?

  * * *

  Preston exhaled. He’d picked her up just in time. Though the sooner he dropped her off, the better.

  He hadn’t wanted to be right about the time bomb, but at least she was safe. He’d just have to make sure she was out of harm’s way before handing her over to police. Because she had a life to rebuild, and he couldn’t be part of it.

  He slowed at his parents’ old, weathered dock. He wouldn’t have brought her here if they had been safe staying out in the open. But apparently someone wanted to kill her.

  Her trembling fingers slid from around his waist to his sides as she twisted to look behind them. Her fingernails bit through his T-shirt. “What? What happened? What’s going on? I…I don’t understand.” She looked at his cabin then at him, her eyes still too glazed to be afraid. “Why are we here?”

  Preston viewed the dilapidated A-frame from her perspective. How would she react when she found out he’d been living there the whole time she thought he’d been dead? How much should he tell her? Had he just saved her life, or had he put her in even more danger?

  She blinked. “I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know what to do. What do I do?”

  Since someone was after her, he’d get her out of the open. Later, he’d worry more about finding the criminal. “Let’s go in.”

  She climbed onto the dock, causing it to sink halfway underwater.

  He eyed her ten pink toenails. So feminine. So sweet. So off-limits. He forced himself to focus on hooking the towrope to the dock.

  “I can’t believe it’s really you.”

  She gripped his biceps when he stood, and maybe she just saw him as her old friend whose shoulders she used to sit on when playing chicken in the lake, but her proximity wasn’t as comfortable as it used to be. In fact, it was almost painful. It should be avoided because she wasn’t even supposed to see him, let alone touch him. He stepped around her.

  She turned, her arms flailing now that she wasn’t hanging on to him like an anchor. “My cabin exploded. I could have been dead like you’re supposed to be.” She covered her mouth with her hands. “I can’t believe I said that.”

  “It’s okay.” Though, was it? How was she going to explain surviving the explosion without revealing his existence? Was she even capable of keeping secrets?

  She stepped forward. He stepped back.

  “I didn’t want to believe you died, but we had a funeral for you. They played taps and gave your parents a flag.”

  Preston looked away. He already knew about his funeral. He’d been there in the distance, watching, as his family mourned their loss.

  Soon he would have to disappear again. No use giving Holly more to mourn. He’d put distance between them and a perimeter of defense around his heart. He wouldn’t thi
nk about the first time he’d kissed her, at the age of sixteen under this very dock during a game of hide-and-seek. Or about how she smelled of coconut, the same way she had as a teen. He held his breath and stepped away, toward the cabin.

  He had to concentrate on the danger of their situation. He’d trained for that. He looked back at the fireball that had once been her family cabin to make sure nobody had followed them across the lake.

  She grabbed his hand.

  Even though they’d grown up holding hands, his pulse reacted violently as an adult. The whole fight-or-flight syndrome. He’d be better off if he chose flight rather than to fight for a relationship that could never last. Dead men didn’t date.

  He led her along the uneven planks, up onto the deck and through the sliding glass door. His parents hadn’t used the place since his “passing” either. Apparently both families had too many memories at the lake for them to be able to enjoy vacations there without him.

  “How did you escape? Can I be there when you tell your parents you’re alive?”

  Uh…no. He took another step away and held up his hands so she couldn’t follow.

  She scanned him up and down. “Are you hurt? Were you held hostage? Who is after you?”

  He lifted his eyebrows. She thought he was the target of the bomb? This was going to be worse than he’d expected.

  “Holly.” What a softer man he would be if he’d spent the last four years with her. Unfortunately, his current circumstances didn’t allow for softness. “The bomb was meant for you.”