The Fugitive

by Nichole Severn

  “Our baby.” Her gaze held his as she smoothed her hands over where her baby belly had started to appear. Raleigh stepped into him, pulling back her shoulders as though she were preparing for war. Hell, in a way, loving her had been war. They’d both brought out a competitiveness in each other and dedicated themselves to their work over their relationship. They might’ve been living together, but Raleigh had been dedicated to the foundation at the time, and he’d been on the road most days chasing bad guys. When it’d ended, neither of them had recognized the other anymore. It’d just taken seeing her arrest on the news that he’d realized how lonely they’d truly been together. How desperate for contact she’d made him. “You keep saying my baby, but she’s ours, Beckett, and it took two of us to make her. That means you have as much responsibility here to protect her as I do, and that’s what I’m trying to do. Protect her. With or without your help.”

  He froze, narrowing his gaze on her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I could’ve run, Beckett. Even with the cuffs on. I’ve got bags buried all over these woods that would get me out of Oregon.” Her voice faltered. “You were asleep, and it would’ve been easy to run, but I didn’t.”

  “Why not?” Criminals like her—like his father—did anything to keep from answering for what they’d done. Wasn’t that why she’d escaped federal custody in the first place? Why he hadn’t heard from Hank Foster in over twenty years? Hell, he didn’t even know if the old man was still alive. Didn’t care. Raleigh was right. She could’ve run, but here she stood, going toe-to-toe with the man tasked to bring her in. “You had the chance. Why didn’t you take it?”

  Raleigh swept her tongue across her bottom lip as the last few drops of rain fell from her chin. “I don’t want my daughter growing up without her parents. I don’t want her to have the same kind of life I did. I didn’t want her not knowing the people who are supposed to love her more than anything in this world or being passed around by anyone willing to take her on the off chance they might get a paycheck for their trouble. Do you have any idea what that’s like, Beckett? To feel unwanted like that, to feel so worthless not even your own family wants to take you in?”

  He’d known about her parents. Her mother had died a few days after giving birth to Raleigh and her twin brother, and no one in the state of Oregon seemed to know who had donated his fatherly genes to their creation. Their birth certificates had been left blank at the hospital, but Beckett hadn’t known about the rest. The apparent hurt deepening the color of her eyes, so contrary to the fiery woman who’d pointed that shotgun at his chest back in her aunt’s cabin, ripped at the edges of the hole she’d left behind in her wake. “Raleigh, I...”

  He’d wanted her. More than anything—or anyone—else he could remember since he’d lost his mother. Hadn’t she realized that? How desperate he’d been to keep her for himself? Constantly checking in with her while he’d been on the road, celebrating one-month, three-month and then six-month anniversaries. He’d been a regular romantic, and the drafted letter of resignation he’d stashed in his inner coat pocket revealed exactly how far he’d committed to go down with the ship. Just for a chance of hanging on to her a bit longer.

  Beckett took a step back, his heel sinking in the mud, but no amount of distance from her could hide the truth. For as much as he’d blamed her for what’d happened between them, he’d never told her how much she’d meant to him, how afraid he’d been of losing her.

  He’d lost everyone he’d cared about and been left to fend for himself from the time he’d been sixteen. He’d worked the ranch as best he could on his own for two years, graduated high school at the top of his class and started taking criminal justice courses before applying to the Marshals Service. No one had helped or been there for him after the shooting. Until Raleigh. She’d blazed into his life and set up residence beneath his skin. She’d shouldered the responsibility to take care of him when the nightmares came for him and never demanded answers. She’d been fearless, driven and everything he’d needed to leave the past behind. She’d been a constant he was willing to defend, and while she’d ripped his heart practically out of his chest when she’d been arrested, the tiny life they’d created together deserved what he’d lost, what they’d both lost: a family.

  “I’m innocent, Beckett,” she said. “But all I need from you is to believe me.”

  Believe her. As if that would change anything.

  “You’ve made your point. Neither of us wants this baby born behind bars.” Damn it. He was about to do something stupid. Beckett scrubbed one hand down his face as his entire career flashed before his eyes. Guess that was to be expected when the life you’d built died right in front of you, but sometimes you had to take the law into your own hands. Only problem was, he’d gotten a good look at the prosecution’s case. The state had done a hell of a job showing no one else at the foundation could’ve taken that money. All they needed to close this investigation was the woman they’d pressed charges against on the other side of the courtroom. Whatever evidence Raleigh believed was out there that would prove her innocence had been buried deep enough the FBI hadn’t gotten their hands on it. That was what they had to find. Fast. The US Marshals’ office—more specifically, his chief deputy, Remington “Remi” Barton—wouldn’t sign off on investigating a case he wasn’t assigned, especially at the insistence of a suspect. Which meant he and Raleigh had two days, maybe less, before his team caught up. He wrapped one hand around her bandaged arm and removed the cuffs from her wrists with the other. “I’m going to regret this.”

  * * *

  THE EVIDENCE BROUGHT UP against her was irrefutable.

  Forged transfer documents, offshore accounts with her name listed as the owner, dates that coincided with her travel plans to meet with other nonprofit organizations across the country. It all pointed to her. Whoever had embezzled all that money knew exactly how to make the foundation—make her—hurt. This had been her life’s work, the reason she’d put herself through business school and dedicated herself to changing the course of mortality rates for mothers across the globe. Only now it was all at risk. Everything she’d worked for would be destroyed if they couldn’t clear her name, leaving nothing but death and loss in its wake if the foundation went under.

  “Just a bit farther.” Beckett took position up ahead, leading them west through the trees. “You got any more of your go bags around here? We’re running low on water.”

  “No. I buried most of them north of the cabin. That was the route I was going to take if the Marshals ever caught up with me.” She framed her near-invisible baby bump with her hands as they trudged through mud, fallen leaves and the occasional patch of twigs. It was silly. The baby wasn’t any bigger than an artichoke right then, but Raleigh found comfort every time her palms pressed against the slightly hardened surface of her stomach. Her boots suctioned at the damper places in the ground, increasing the wear on her muscles when exhaustion had already stripped too much of her energy. Sweat built in her hairline with each step despite the fresh rush of cold in the air. Oregon had always been home, but out here in the middle of nowhere, with no cell coverage, board meetings or the incessant drone of the city, she’d found an invigorating peace she hadn’t felt anywhere else. Well, almost anywhere else.

  She lifted her attention from where she’d place her next step to the man who’d bandaged her wounds in the middle of a rainstorm while swearing he’d put her behind bars if she so much as thought about running again.

  She’d almost forgotten the feel of his gaze on her, the raw intensity with which he handled himself. Then he’d touched her. One touch from him had ignited a sweeping heat deep inside her body she’d been craving since she’d been arrested. He’d cleaned the scratches on her arms with a care and gentleness nobody else had done for her. No matter what happened between them after the investigation was over, she wouldn’t forget that. He’d always been cautious, defensive, suspicio
us even, but not with her. All that power, as though he intended to set anyone and anything on fire if it got in the way of justice, built under his cool exterior until it became too much to handle, but he never let it touch her. That was what made him a US marshal. Not the lifetime worth of education and training he’d gone through but the commitment to do the job in the first place, a deep-seated root of dedication he’d accrued long before he’d swept into her life.

  “I need to take a break,” she said.

  Beckett settled those brilliant blue eyes on her, and her nerves hiked into awareness. The past twelve hours had shown her exactly how much had changed since she saw two blue lines on that drugstore pregnancy test, as well as the five that followed, and he slowed his pace. “We’ve got to keep moving.”

  “No, I get it. We’re vulnerable out here in the open. There’s just one problem with that.” She bent at the knees and nearly doubled over as fiery bile worked up her throat. Forcing herself to take deep breaths, she closed her eyes as the leaves under her boots started to sway. And not from the wind. “I have to eat every couple of hours, or your daughter takes it out on me.”

  “Damn it.” Calluses caught on the fabric of her shirt as he coursed one palm over her spine, and in an instant, the nausea’s controlling grip eased. “I don’t know how all this...you being pregnant works yet. I think we have some granola left. Let me find it.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, neither do I. This is all new for me, too. Every day is a new surprise.” Raleigh reached for the boulder a few feet away and slid down onto it. The coolness bleeding through her jeans helped chase back the knot in her stomach, but it didn’t compare to the savagery Beckett used emptying their pack in order to find her something to eat. In less than thirty seconds, he straightened, the thick muscles in his thighs flexing. She took the water and granola bar he offered, careful not to let her fingers come into contact with his as another wave of heat exploded through her insides. He’d made it perfectly clear things had ended between them when he’d refused to return her dozens of calls and messages after the arrest. She wasn’t supposed to be noticing the way his veins fought to escape the skin along the backs of his hands as he pinched the top of his hat between his fingers and swept his hair back away from his face. Or was this sudden rush of awareness due to the pregnancy hormones? Didn’t matter. Beckett Foster had made his choice, and it hadn’t been her.

  “Thanks.” Draining the bottle, she tore into the granola, speaking around the food in her mouth. “You should drink up, too. It might be the middle of fall, but you’re still sweating.”

  Dehydration would slow them down faster than her swollen, achy body would, but she wasn’t about to admit that out loud. Definitely not to him.

  “That was the last of it.” He stared out into the trees, never making eye contact with her. Replacing his hat on his head, he shouldered their pack, as though the fact he’d given up the last of his water—their water—for her in a moment of exhausted weakness wasn’t a big deal. “Unless we come across another of your buried packs, that’s all we have until we reach the ranch.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.” She chewed the last of the granola bar, the oats and Craisins sticking along her throat. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and pushed upright. There were only a handful of properties out here on the other side of East Lake, most of which were owned by horse trainers or wheat farmers. Someone had already gotten to her cofounder, and a gunman had tried to kill her and Beckett less than twelve hours ago. They couldn’t involve anyone else. Not without putting innocent lives in danger. “What ranch?”

  “USMS manages half a dozen seized properties up and down these parts. The one we’re closest to was seized from a drug dealer after we connected him to one of the southern cartels for pushing their product into Eugene.” He waved his finger to the right. Beckett slowed his escape along the trail, his jacket shifting over powerful shoulders. Unpocketing his phone, he shook his head. “Don’t expect anything fancy. We’ll be lucky if there’s still running water, but we’ll at least have a roof over our heads and be in cell range so I can make contact with the rest of my team.”

  His team? Raleigh spread one hand under her abdominals as a shiver chased down her spine. She forced one foot in front of the other, fighting to keep up with his long strides, but the fear of going back...of being found before they had a chance to clear her name...tunneled deep. She stopped in her tracks. The confidence that’d waned since she’d realized she’d put him on the wrong end of her shotgun charged forward. She’d been living off the grid for months, and she hadn’t made any mistakes. Not on her end. There was only one way that gunman would’ve been able to find her, and it wasn’t a coincidence he’d shown up minutes after Beckett had located her. “You can’t do that. You can’t involve the Marshals’ office.”

  An inner earthquake shook through her as he narrowed that steely gaze on her. He slowly turned to face her, and suddenly he seemed so much...bigger than he had when he’d offered her the last of his water. Suspicious. “I’m a United States marshal, and you’re a fugitive. If my boss finds out I’m interfering with this case, I’ll be charged with aiding and abetting a known criminal, and your baby won’t just lose one parent. She’ll lose us both. Is that what you want?”

  “It was you,” she said.

  “What are you talking about?” Confusion cleared some of the tension from his expression, but he was still too close.

  “I’ve been out here for four months. I’ve been off the grid, running my own investigation into who could’ve stolen that money while making sure none of what I uncovered connected back to me.” She fought the urge to increase the space between them as a hint of rain and pine from his clothing filled her lungs. “Whoever shot at us... They shouldn’t have been able to find me, Beckett.”

  “Then maybe you’re not as good as you think you are.” He swept his coat to either side of his hips, hands leveraged against the lean muscle she’d memorized under those clothes. “Maybe you made a mistake. Your name is on that sonogram you showed me. There’s a chance someone in the doctor’s office recognized your photo from the most wanted list and called it in.”

  It was a possibility, but the chances were slim. She’d been careful, met with the doctor after hours for a hefty price, altered her appearance for the nurses. Because it wasn’t just her life at stake anymore. She had a daughter to think about now, and she would do whatever it took to make sure she got out of this unharmed. Raleigh raised her gaze to his, the knot in her stomach tight. “Or maybe someone knew about our past connection. Maybe whoever stole that money used you to make sure I’d never walk out of these woods alive.”

  Chapter Four

  “Let me get this straight.” The muscles down his spine seized up. He rolled his lips between his teeth and bit down, the rustic tang of blood sliding across his tongue. Spreading his hands palms-down in front of him, he studied her for a sign—anything—that could give him an idea of where the hell she was going with this. “Instead of considering you might’ve made a mistake and given up your location on your own, which, I’ll add, wasn’t too hard to predict, you’re saying I’m responsible for what went down at your aunt’s cabin.”

  “It’s not hard to believe whoever framed me knew about our relationship and used that to their advantage, knew you’d follow those unwavering Boy Scout morals of yours to bring me in.” She slid her hand along her lower abdominals, a nervous habit he bet she’d picked up somewhere between finding out she was pregnant and today. “I’d say whoever we’re dealing with doesn’t just know me. They’ve done their homework on you, too. They could’ve easily followed you with the intention of taking us both out to keep me from getting to the truth. They might even have a connection in the Marshals Service and made sure you were assigned my recovery.”

  The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, but Beckett kept his expression smooth as her words registered.
Finnick Reed, Jonah Watson and his chief deputy, Remi Barton. They’d all put their lives on the line for him on the job, just as he’d done for them over the past decade they’d been assigned to work together in the Oregon district office. Their team had apprehended a record number of fugitives, dismantled criminal enterprises and aided in more statewide manhunts than any other office on the West Coast. The four of them made up the backbone of the federal government, and he trusted every single one of them with his life. But the fact a shooter had tried to kill him and Raleigh less than fifteen minutes after Beckett had found her grated on his instincts. Damn it. He couldn’t discount her theory. Hell, it was the only thing they had to go on right now, and that meant leaving his team out of the investigation. For now. “You obviously have someone in mind. Someone from your list of suspects at the foundation.”

  She nodded, stringy, damp hair skimming the bullet graze at the side of her neck, and it felt as though blood had pooled in his legs, cementing him in place. Another inch to the left and that bullet would’ve killed her. He would’ve lost her, lost their baby. This far out, with the closest hospital more than thirty miles away, he wouldn’t have been able to save either of them, and his chest tightened at the imagery. “My assistant, Emily Cline. She’s worked for me since the beginning and had access to the donations anytime I had to travel. She would’ve had the perfect opportunity to transfer those funds when I was guaranteed to be out of the office.”

  “I remember her from the background checks the feds ran. I assume she arranged all your travel, kept your schedule, had your bank account and Social Security numbers to arrange hotels and car rentals?” A cold bite of wind ripped through the trees, but it was the weary hint of exhaustion playing out across Raleigh’s features that held his attention. It took everything inside him to keep himself from chasing back the dark circles under her eyes with the pad of his thumb.