“Don’t move until we know what’s wrong with you.”
“We can’t stay here.”
“We won’t.” He used his elbow to knock out the rest of the window’s broken glass. With his upper body outside the car up to his armpit, he reached for something outside.
He let out a long, growling yell, then fell back against the steering wheel. His chest lifted on harsh breaths. With eyes closed and sweat streaking across his eyebrows, he locked his jaw and sat still.
She recognized pain when she saw it. “What are you—”
“I can do it.” This time he threw his body to the side, lifting farther out of his seat. His hand slapped against the ground before it disappeared. When he flopped back he had something in his hand and held it under her nose. “Here.”
She stared at the cell phone and realized Jonas picked it off the attacker. “How did you know he had one?”
“Lucky guess.” Jonas gasped between breaths. “At some point he’d have to be able to call the person paying him to grab you.”
“Smart.”
“I’m sure it’s a pay-as-you-go and won’t trace back to anyone, but at least we have it.”
“So, you believe me.” The words were heavy in her mouth, hard to say and even harder to accept.
“Call 911.”
She turned the phone over in her hands. The plan involved running, not hanging around to talk with the police. And if Jonas decided to file charges…
“Courtney.” Strength returned to his voice for that one word.
But common sense returned on a rush. She shook her head. “I have to leave first.”
“You’re hurt. Hell, I’m hurt.”
Guilt ate at her, but she ignored it. “You know I was telling the truth, that I can’t stay. Someone is after me.”
“Running isn’t the answer.”
“It’s worked so far.”
He leaned closer to her. “Call and we’ll figure out everything else later.”
“But I—”
“Just dial.” His head lolled to the side. “Please.”
She didn’t know if it was the pain in his voice or the pleading, but she gave in, threw all rational thought aside and pressed the buttons. On the second ring, she glanced over at him. The color had left his face and his hands opened and closed as if he were trying to keep the blood flowing.
“This is a mistake.” Courtney didn’t realize she’d said the words out loud until she heard them.
His rough laugh turned into a cough. “At least the day can’t get worse.”
But she knew better.
Chapter Four
Kurt Handler stared at the closed file on the edge of his desk. He didn’t have to open it. He knew every line contained in the four-inch-thick folder. No one else ever read through it or touched it. He carried the pages with him in his briefcase and in his head. The words haunted his nights and hovered over him during the day.
He spun his chair around and stared out the windows lining the wall behind his desk. He’d been watching over this part of Washington, D.C., his small corner of the world with the famous Watergate and Kennedy Center as his neighbors, for a decade.
He earned every square foot of the tenth-floor office space. He put in endless hours, ignoring his sons’ baseball games and wife’s pleas for more time at home, to focus on his commercial-real-estate business.
His job was to stockpile money and guarantee security for all four of them. Every time the market took a downturn, he adjusted. When his competitors struck, he hit back even harder. He owned huge portions of this city. In an area driven by power, he brokered more deals, negotiated more dollars, than any of the new-money business owners trying to muscle into his territory.
He’d survived and thrived, putting his kids through college and gifting them with trust funds that would ensure they’d never have to struggle or beg as he had. The idea he could lose it all because of the meddling of an ignorant girl made him furious.
She refused to accept the facts in front of her and move on. She insisted the police got it all wrong. She could ruin everything.
He waited for his associate in that craphole of a town in Oregon to check in. Kurt hated depending on someone else for help, but he had hired the best. And if he had to take care of the problem on his own this time, he would.
* * *
FIVE HOURS, an ambulance, two police cars and a hydraulic spreader later, Jonas sat on an emergency-room table with his legs dangling over the side and his shoulder bandaged.
They were lucky to be alive. The mangled metal formerly known as a car had crashed around them but not into them. A thousand little things had probably made the difference, but the rough terrain and the crawling speed he was forced to drive had made survival an option.
The hospital loudspeaker spewed a constant stream of announcements. Nurses rushed in and out of the individual cubicles lining the L-shaped room. He heard bells and alarms, smelled the harsh scent of antiseptic.
He blocked it all out and concentrated on everything that had happened since he showed up on Courtney’s doorstep that morning. The pieces sat there, but he couldn’t put them together in a comprehensible way. Chases, car accidents, killing. Not his favorite way to spend a day.
It all led back to her, to something in her past. It, whatever “it” was, put her in danger and nearly got him killed. He’d figure it out. At the very least he intended to gather more intel before getting into a car with her the next time.
He also vowed not to leave her side until the threat passed. Right now she lay in a bed on the other side of the flimsy curtain. He could hear her grumbling, even had to argue with her a few times when she told him she was ready to leave.
He’d asked the staff to put her in the cubicle at the end of the hall, thinking she’d have to go through him to sneak out. But he wouldn’t have been surprised if she slipped through an air-conditioning vent to get away. This woman had a serious running issue.
Richmond Tobin, Jonas’s first friend in Aberdeen and a fellow police officer, walked in. He stood six feet and had wrestled in college. Six years out, he looked as if he could battle a train and come out ahead.
“You’re supposed to be lying down. You know, resting,” he said.
“Tell me about it.” Jonas rolled his shoulders and had to fight back the wave of nausea that hit him right behind the pain.
“Brought a change of clothes and your cell, just as you requested.” Rich dumped a gym bag next to Jonas’s thigh and held up a gun. “Also managed to liberate your weapon.”
Jonas took it, ran his finger across the side before checking it, then slipped it and his holster onto his belt. “Bet the nurses loved that.”
“I flashed my badge and reminded them you were in charge since the police chief retired, so it was all your responsibility.”
Jonas saw mounds of paperwork and a meeting with the town council in his future. “Thanks for that.”
“While you’re at it, care to tell me how you got stuck in the middle of the forest with a dead body next to you?” Rich fell into the seat across from Jonas. “Someone I have to identify, I might add.”
“Long story.”
“Then there’s the woman who isn’t elderly or in need of a wellness check.”
“Yeah. Courtney.”
Rich’s eyes widened. “You’re on a first-name basis?”
“Almost getting killed will do that to a relationship. Speeds things up.” For some messed-up reason, she was now Courtney in his head. Jonas knew the informal reference bordered on inappropriate, but he’d worry about that later when he sorted out everything else that had happened that day.
“Uh-huh. And how did all of this happen again?”
Jonas tried to rub the crick out his neck. “You asked about fifty questions in the last two minutes.”
“Okay, how about this one?” Rich leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and smiled at his boss. “How did a hundred-pound woman get the drop on you?”
“You
’re light on the weight, and I threatened him with my gun,” Courtney shouted from behind the curtain and over the protests of the nurse who was taking her vital signs.
Rich whistled. “Interesting.”
Jonas bit back a groan. He’d hear about this for months. Cops loved this crap. Being the new officer on the squad and the one with the highest rank, the target on his back grew bigger each day. His four-month perfect record blown with one comment from Courtney.
“The dead guy tried to kill her,” he said.
Rick pulled his chair closer to the exam table as he lowered his voice. “Any chance we know who or why?”
“Not yet.” But Jonas was about to get some of those answers. He hated when people lied to him. Not having all the facts didn’t sit any better.
He eased off the table, ignoring the aches thumping through every part of his body. He’d somehow made it through a car flip with only a dislocated shoulder, cut-up knee and bruised ribs.
He’d developed the bad attitude during the ambulance ride.
“Where are you going?” Rich asked.
“I have some questions of my own.” Jonas ignored the amusement in his friend’s voice and started walking.
The rings jangled on the metal rod and the nurse squealed as Jonas ripped the curtain aside. “You can’t be in here,” she said in a huff.
At fifty, Nurse Ramsey ran the emergency room with an iron fist. Jonas knew her from the times he brought in suspects and car-accident victims. She did her job and was not even a little impressed by his gun and badge.
Standing there without a shirt but with a weapon strapped to his side, he wished he’d taken a second to get dressed. It was too late now. “I need to speak with Courtney.”
Even while lying flat on her back with a tube sticking out of her arm, Courtney rolled her eyes. “You could have just asked.”
“I’m calling security.” The nurse brushed past Jonas and ran right into Rich.
He flashed a badge. “Since we’re the police that probably won’t be necessary.”
The nurse scowled. “I know who you are, Richmond. My husband was your math teacher in high school, but that doesn’t mean you’re in charge around here.”
Since the hospital sat in the middle of Bartholomew County and just over the Aberdeen city line, her argument held some validity.
Still, Jonas came in and out and often stepped up when surrounding jurisdictions needed help. That should buy him some goodwill. At least he thought so. “I can call Walt, if you want.”
“Fine.” She took her sweet time staring at each of them before turning on her heel and storming out. “You have five minutes.”
“She’s always such a joy,” Rich said after the nurse huffed off.
“She was doing her job.” Courtney pushed up on her elbows and peeked around Jonas. “And you are?”
Jonas wasn’t in the mood for long-winded introductions. “Rich, Courtney. And vice versa.”
“Hello—”
Jonas stood right next to her and put his hand over her arm and lowered it when she started to raise it for a handshake. “Now, tell me what’s going on.”
Her gaze fell to his waist. “You have your gun back.”
“The radio is still MIA. Go ahead and talk.”
Rich snorted. “You really know how to make a person want to open up to you.”
Courtney looked from one man to the other. “Someone is after me.”
“I got that much.” Jonas had the headache as a reminder.
“I’m guessing that person used you to get to me.”
Somehow he knew this would all be his fault. “How do you figure?”
Her face turned green from neck to nose when she sat up. “Ugh.”
“You okay?” With a hand against her lower back, he steadied her. Seeing Rich’s raised eyebrow had Jonas letting go before he wanted to.
She wobbled, her head dunking forward before pulling up again. “Not really. Are you?”
He could barely stand up without wanting to spill last night’s dinner all over the floor. “I will be once you explain how I’m at fault for everything.”
She blew out a long breath. “You came to my house, asking about another woman, and all of a sudden I get run over by a truck. It’s an A-plus-B thing.”
Jonas and Rich took positions on either side of her bed.
More than once, Rich’s gaze dipped from her face to her chest. Jonas didn’t like the gawking but he understood it. Even roughed up with leaves in her hair, there was something about Courtney, or whatever her name really was. Pretty, yes, but there was something deeper. An inner strength he admired, even though it resulted in his getting crushed in a tuna can of a car.
But reluctant respect wasn’t enough to take him off task. He needed more answers. “Now would be a good time to tell me if you’re really Margaret Taynor.”
“I promise I’m not.”
Rich raised his hand. “Just want you two to know this conversation isn’t making any sense.”
“That’s because Courtney is forgetting to offer up the details.” Jonas frowned at her, hoping she’d get the impression that he was done fooling around. “Someone wants to find you, and I think you know why. Care to share?”
“I think I can answer that.” The deep voice came from the hall and had both men spinning.
Ignoring the blinding pain in his shoulder, Jonas had his gun up and ready before the man finished his sentence. “Step back.”
“Do not move,” Rich said at the same time.
The visitor shook his head. “Gentlemen, lower your weapons.”
Late forties, with short salt-and-pepper hair and a black suit and tie. Jonas took in the uniform and perfect posture and came to one conclusion—government. He knew the routine. The guy would flash a badge and start talking in half sentences any second now.
Not that anything about the man intimidated Jonas. He’d dealt with the feds—heck, he’d been one in his last job and hadn’t been impressed. “I don’t think so.”
“Now.” The guy acted as if issuing an order would work.
“And you are?” Rich asked.
“Paul Eckert.” Right on cue, the guy held up his hand then dipped his fingers into his jacket pocket and pulled out a shiny badge. “FBI.”
“How did you get in here?” Jonas refused to lower his weapon. “There are two officers out there with specific instructions not to let anyone back here.”
“I’m afraid that’s my fault. I brought Agent Eckert.” Walt Roberts stepped inside the increasingly small space.
“What are you doing here?” Jonas shook his head. He hadn’t expected the Bartholomew County sheriff to show up. Then again, Walt had a way of finding the action and being right in the middle of it. Being sixty with a bum leg did not slow him down all that much.
He’d served in the navy with Jonas’s dad decades earlier. The men had a bond that extended to Jonas. Walt’s personal reference and not-so-subtle insistence that Jonas relocate to Oregon landed him his current deputy position. He owed Walt for many things. A steady paycheck was only one on the impressive list.
“It’s getting pretty crowded in here,” Courtney said, as she pushed Jonas aside and looked around her bed.
He had to chuckle at her dry statement. “No kidding.”
“Would one or more of you consider putting the weapons away? I’ve seen enough gunplay for one day.” She tugged on Jonas’s arm as she said it.
Not being one for surprises, he preferred to keep the gun ready, but in deference to the trembling in her palm, he lowered it. He tried to take his anger level down at the same time.
“What’s going on?” Jonas asked.
“When word went out that you were in the hospital and most of your squad was either here checking on you or at the crime scene, I got the call to step in. I was on my way over to check on you when Agent Eckert’s office made contact.” Walt turned to their suited guest. “So, I brought him along. He pretty much insisted on it.”
“I still don’t understand what’s happening or why the FBI is here,” Courtney said.
Eckert stared at her. “It’s a serious law-enforcement issue.”
Tension exploded in the room. Jonas couldn’t breathe without choking on it. And he worried the woman next to him was the cause of it all. “Anything you want to tell me?”
Her entire face fell. Mouth, eyes, everything pulled flat. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You say that a lot.” He turned to the agent. “Eckert?”
“I’d have to disagree with her assessment.”
Of course he did. Jonas wondered if this day would ever end. “And why is that?”
“She’s under arrest.”
Chapter Five
Courtney’s painkiller wore off with a hard smack. “What?”
She’d never done anything to attract the attention of the police. If she went the rest of her days without seeing or hearing about another cop, she’d be fine. History taught her to be wary and keep her distance. The whole “run to a policeman if you’re in trouble” motto turned her blood icy cold.
Her glance moved to Jonas. Tall, dark, handsome and deadly sarcastic. He had everything she found attractive in a guy…except the badge. She had no choice but to believe in him right now, but at the first opportunity she’d be gone.
Jonas lowered his gun as he stared down the agent. “Where is it?”
The other man’s glare telegraphed how little he appreciated being dressed down by a small-town cop. “Excuse me?”
“I want to see the paper.”
She had no idea what Jonas was talking about, but the agent didn’t blink. Courtney wrote the whole scene off as cop talk, as she scanned the cubicle for an obvious escape route.
Eckert edged closer to the end of the bed. “I need to talk with Ms. Allen alone.”
Jonas shook his head. “Not going to happen.”
“I agree.” She decided Jonas could act the hero on this one with her full support.
Being talked about like a piece of furniture ticked her off, but going with a guy from the FBI terrified her. She’d take anger over fear any day. Fury fueled her, and she would use that energy now to get out of this room.
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