11
Ned was shaking, his entire body roiling with the rush of horror.
If Pete hadn’t moved, his reaction lightning quick and instinctual, Ned would have brought the ax down on Pete’s skull.
Ned folded his arms, trying very hard to hold himself together, still feeling Pete’s hands on him, shoving him up against the wall. “It’s me, man!”
“You okay, bro?” Now, Pete turned to him, a hand on his shoulder. “You hurt?”
Oh. Probably Pete referred to the bloody pants, and yeah, his shoulder felt like it might be ablaze, thanks to Pete’s near body slam. In fact, maybe he could thank the weakness from his dislocation for the fact that Pete stood before him unscathed. Because Ned had spent years swinging an ax and normally had deadly aim.
“Not really,” he said. “But Shae needs an emergency extraction. She has a pretty bad puncture in her gut.”
With that, Pete turned and strode over to Shae on the sofa.
Jess, meanwhile, untangled herself from Felipe’s embrace. So this was the other man, the one she’d broken Pete’s heart for. Interesting. The man seemed just as worried about her as Pete.
Pete sat on the coffee table, reached out and took Shae’s wrist to check her pulse. “Hey there, Shae. How are you doing?”
“Not great,” she said, her voice weak enough for Ned to worry. More. Worry more.
Pete pressed his hand to her forehead. Glanced at Jess. “She’s feverish, and her pulse is a little high.”
It happened so fast, on the tail end of the commotion, that no one reacted. Just stood silent as a man entered the house. A large man, with wide shoulders, girth, and heft; he wore orange hunting coveralls and a wool stocking cap and filled the space with enough menace to silence the room.
His coveralls glistened from the rain and enough blood spatter to peg him exactly as a murderer. Especially when he pointed the end of his Remington bolt-action rifle first at Felipe, then at Ned and growled. “What’s going on here?”
“Hey, hey, easy there, pal,” Pete said, rising, his hands held up in surrender. “We don’t want any trouble.”
It took a second for him to lower the weapon. “Pete Brooks?”
A smile slid up one side of Pete’s mouth. “Randy? What are you doing here?” Pete shot a quick glance at Jess, who had turned around, her breath catching.
Ned didn’t want to move too quickly over to Shae, but . . . Randy Blackburn? He shot Shae a look. She’d closed her eyes, as if trying to just breathe.
Randy lowered the gun and reached out to take Pete’s hand. Ned pegged him to be in his late forties, with dark hair, just a smattering of gray around the edges, and a hint of a dark beard. Solidly built, he looked like he might be a handful if Ned decided to launch himself at him.
Pete shook his hand. “What are you doing here?” he asked again, friendly, as if Blackburn wasn’t still holding the rifle that had probably ripped a hole through Ned’s backside.
Did anyone else notice the blood spattering his coveralls?
Weirdly, Jess, too, went over to Blackburn. “Hey, Sheriff.”
“Jess?” Blackburn turned to her. “It’s great to see you. We’ve missed you.” He gave her a one-arm hug. “What are you doing here?”
Running from you!
Nobody was saying that part, or even acknowledging the fact that indeed the Texas Chainsaw murderer had just walked through the front door with a smile.
“It’s sort of a long story,” Jess said. “We . . . we got lost in the woods, and it started raining, and our friend Shae fell and hurt herself.”
The Swiss cheese of explanations, so many huge glaring holes that Blackburn should be able to drive a semi through them. Like Jess’s grimy white blouse, and Ned’s bloody clothes, and Shae, who lay on the sofa, pale and maybe even dying.
“I’m Felipe St. Augustine,” said the man who had watched Jess kiss Pete with a look like he’d been slammed in the gut. And rightly so, because in Ned’s recollection of his conversation with Jess about Pete, a lip-lock wasn’t on the immediate agenda.
Something was rotten in the state of Denmark. But at the moment, the man with the rifle got the most attention, so while Felipe shook Blackburn’s hand, greeting him like he might be his long-lost redneck uncle, Ned decided to sneak across the room to Shae.
If the guy was going to shoot Shae, he’d have to go through Ned.
“We were trying to find them when we heard a gunshot,” Pete said, glancing at Ned, meeting his eyes for a second. Interestingly, in that split second, his former teammate sent a world of meaning. Keep cool, no sudden moves.
So Pete was simply playing at his easy, hey-neighbor demeanor. He moved aside for Ned to take his place.
Ned knelt in front of Shae and took her hand. Ice cold, but he squeezed it and she tightened her grip around his. Not asleep, just trying not to scream, not to unravel. Cool, no sudden moves.
“That was me,” Blackburn said. “I bagged a buck—just dragged him back into camp. I’ve been here for the past few weeks.” He finally set the gun down and shut the door. Ned watched as Pete’s gaze glanced off the weapon. “I saw the smoke from the chimney and for a second thought I’d forgotten to bank the fire this morning.”
“You’ve been here for a few weeks?” Jess said, moving over to join Shae.
“With a few runs into town for supplies, but . . . yeah.” He unzipped his coveralls, sighed. Glanced at Pete. “I guess you’ll hear it from your brother soon enough, but Karin and I are getting divorced. I just had to get away, so I came out here. Since it’s deer season, I’ve been waiting for that nice nine-point buck to cross my stand.”
Ned hadn’t a clue who Karin might be, but . . . wasn’t this the same man who had killed his girlfriend five years ago? Clearly Ned needed a more thorough explanation, but he didn’t move. Because the situation felt too weird.
Especially when Blackburn came over next to Ned and took a look at the woman on the sofa. “Hey there,” he said, his tone kind, even comforting. Soft. “I’m Sheriff Blackburn. What’s going on?”
Shae opened her eyes. And if she wasn’t the bravest person Ned knew before this moment, the fact that she blinked, gave Blackburn a slow, almost drugged smile, and mumbled something along the lines of, “I’ll be okay,” convinced him that if anyone could handle being the wife of a navy SEAL, it was Shae, Miss Calm Under Pressure.
“She has a puncture wound,” Jess said. “I dressed it, but it’s deep. The sooner she gets medical attention, the better.”
Blackburn considered her a moment. And Ned tensed, watching, ready—well, for what he wasn’t sure, but the fact that the man showed not even a hint of recognition of Shae . . . then again, she did look washed out, her eyes sunken, not at all the vibrant, beautiful woman Ned knew.
Except for the hold she had on his hand. She might be cutting off circulation.
“Is anyone else hurt?” Blackburn asked. He looked at Pete when he said it.
Pete looked at Jess, who shook her head.
“You look a little roughed up there,” Blackburn said, and Ned realized he was talking to him. Well, his pants were shredded, his backside bandaged, and blood saturated his jeans. “Yeah,” Ned wanted to say, “because you shot me in the bum.” But he lifted a shoulder. “I fell and got scraped up pretty good. It’s not as bad as it looks.” He could lie with the rest of the crowd.
“Okay, we need to get help,” Blackburn said. “You can’t get cell service here, but my truck has a CB in it. It’s down the path about a quarter mile. I’ll hike down and call in the PEAK team, get the chopper out here.”
It felt too easy, a sort of miracle that had Ned’s head spinning. And not just Ned’s, because judging by the look on Jess’s pale face, she seemed unable to grapple with their change of fortune.
“I’ll be back,” Blackburn said as he headed to the door. He didn’t even grab for his gun on the way out.
The door closed and the room fell silent.
“What just happened?” Shae said. “Did he . . . was he . . .”
“I don’t think he even recognized you,” Jess said, her voice thin. “And . . . it didn’t seem like he’d spent the past two days stalking us through the forest.”
“Wait,” Felipe said. “That was the man who forced you off the road?”
“I can’t believe he didn’t recognize me,” Shae said quietly.
“Does he know you?” Felipe said, and Ned realized he wasn’t the only one who needed to be caught up.
“No, or yes, but . . .” Shae shook her head. “Do you think—I couldn’t have dreamed up the fact that he was after me for the past five years, could I?”
Pete knelt beside her. “He chased you down. He killed Dante. He’s definitely a killer. But . . . maybe he didn’t recognize you. It’s been years, and you’ve changed.”
“But he knew me before. He was Uncle Ian’s friend.”
“Maybe he doesn’t realize that we know about his crimes. And we don’t need to let on. Not until we get you back. Then . . . we’ll tell Sam and bring him to justice.”
Sam. Pete’s deputy sheriff brother.
“You did really well, Shae,” Ned said.
Jess had walked over to the window and was staring outside. “What I can’t figure out is, if it wasn’t him, then there’s someone else out there.”
“Someone else trying to kill us?” Ned said. “But who—”
The shot barked, fast and sharp, and exploded into the dusk, the sound ricocheting through the cabin.
Jess yelped and ducked away from the window.
Pete launched himself at her, but Felipe got there first, pulling her against him.
Ned watched as she untangled herself fast, turning to join Pete at the window.
“Randy’s been shot!” Pete said.
Jess went for the door, but Pete put a hand on it, slamming it.
“Have you lost your ever-lovin’ mind?”
She reeled back, staring at him.
“There’s no way you’re going out there. Jess—someone just shot Randy. Which means he’s here. Whoever has been tracking you has found you.”
Pete didn’t know where to start with the tangle of panic.
Randy Blackburn, accused murderer, who had just acted—pretended?—to be their best-friend-slash-hero lay crumpled and bleeding, possibly dead, in the yard.
Behind him, Shae seemed to be sinking into a sort of shock.
Ned had nearly chopped his head off.
And Jess. She’d kissed him like she missed him. Desperately. The reunion that he’d dreamed of for nearly a year. Except in his dreams, the reunion didn’t include her maybe-fiancé watching, and worse, suggesting that maybe they all needed to go home, sit down, and chat.
Work this out over crepes and mulled wine, perhaps.
Pete had lost his head the moment he’d seen Jess. He’d had no other thought but to yank her away from the drama and pain of the past year and just hold the woman he loved. Still. He loved Jess so much his entire body ached.
So yeah, when Jess practically clung to him, Pete dove in, reminding himself of her touch, her laughter, the shape of the future he’d once loosed himself into.
Then she’d whimpered. Or perhaps it was simply shock, but with it, the rude thought flashed that she didn’t belong to him anymore.
Maybe. But it was enough for him to pull away, to lean back with apology on his lips.
“I’m sorry—”
“No, I’m sorry.” She had grabbed his jacket, as if unwilling to let him go, and it broke his heart because suddenly, as quickly as it had vanished, the pain rushed back. The past year, his stupid mistakes, her betrayal . . . even the confusing fight that had driven her away from him.
He just wanted to start over. But they had too much behind them.
It had to be enough that she was safe. So he braced his arms over her instead of pulling her against him, instead of diving back in for another time-stopping kiss, and told her the truth. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.” Or mostly the truth.
I love you, Jess. Miraculously, the words didn’t slip out as he somehow backed away from her.
It gave Pete the sweetest of petty, satisfactory moments that she’d not given Felipe the same greeting. Even if she did surrender to his embrace.
Yes, maybe they all needed a nice, long, honest chat.
Any hope of this wrapping up without drama ended when Blackburn came through the door. Pete felt the string of tension vibrating between Jess, Ned, and Shae, and with it, the past whispered in his ear—an accusation from Shae that Blackburn had murdered her boyfriend.
Not necessarily something he wanted to throw at the big man carrying a Remington, so Pete had played the easy friend to the man who had worked with him on countless rescues over the past five years.
The man who’d been shot in the yard on his way to get them help.
Pete stood with his hand barring the door, his gaze hard on Jess. “You are not going out there!”
“He’s hurt—he might be dead.”
“My point exactly.” Pete put his back to the door and took her by the arms, his grip on her wrists. “Whoever is out there is not messing around. He’s shooting to kill.”
That was when he noticed she winced, her eyes tightening around the edges. He yanked his hands away. “You are hurt!”
“I landed wrong when we went over the cliff—”
“You went over a cliff?” Felipe said, stepping up beside her.
“When we escaped the truck. We ran through the woods, but it was so dark, we couldn’t see and we went right over the edge of a ten-foot drop. Ned dislocated his shoulder.”
Really? Pete glanced at Ned, who hadn’t moved from his position beside Shae. He looked rough—his jeans ripped and bloody, his shirt grimy—and he bore a brutal scrape on his chin. “You okay?”
“It’s Shae we really need to pay attention to here.”
No, they needed to get them all out of here. Pete grabbed his walkie, the first chance he’d had in all the commotion to call PEAK.
“Rescue 2, Rescue 1, come in.”
Static.
He tried again.
Maybe Blackburn had been telling the truth. The river wound through a canyon, and the granite peaks could be cutting off their communication. “I need to get to that radio in his truck.”
“If there is a radio in the truck. He could have been lying,” Jess said. She had brought her arm into her body, cradling it.
“Let me take a look at that.” Pete eased her arm away, gently rubbing his thumb along the bone, watching her face. She met his eyes.
Oh. For a second he couldn’t breathe, not with the way she looked at him, a brokenness, a want in her eyes, as if . . . as if wishing him back into her arms.
His throat tightened and he tore his gaze away. “Can you move your wrist?”
She moved it in a circle. “It’s sore, but I don’t think it’s broken.”
“Okay. Be gentle with it,” he said, noticing Felipe’s annoyed expression.
Yeah, well, maybe he should take her up on the wish he’d seen in her eyes. Or hoped—oh, he hoped—he saw. Sure, they had unfinished business, but paramount in his head was the fact that he’d found Jess.
He wasn’t going to let some guy out in the yard destroy that, steal her away again.
Pete turned back to the window, scanning the lawn. Blackburn seemed to be still alive, moving slowly across the grass. Maybe. It could also be his imagination.
Shoot.
“I need to go out there and get him,” he said, mostly to himself.
“I’ll go with you,” Jess said.
“Over my dead body,” he growled. The sun had started to set and the dusk was upon them, but by the time the shadows had lengthened enough to conceal him, Blackburn would have bled out.
They needed to rescue Blackburn, and they needed to get Shae and Ned to medical help. Pronto.
“Are there any windows here?” The cabin was small—a main room with a stove, another room just off the main. It looked like a bedroom. He walked into it and found a tiny bathroom. A window hung over the toilet. Maybe big enough.
He unlocked it, and with a shove, the window opened. Perfect.
“We can’t leave him out there.”
He turned and saw Jess had followed him into the room. She stood there, her eyes big, dark, accusing.
“Blackburn?”
“I saw him moving, Pete. We have to get him.”
Pete leaned out past her, to see if they had company. Then he pulled her into the room and shut the door.
“What?”
Don’t kiss her. How he longed to press her up against the door and just release the hard grip he had on his emotions. Instead, “I know. I have an idea, but you have to promise me that you won’t . . .” He closed his eyes, his jaw tight against the constriction of his chest.
“What—”
“That you won’t leave!” He drew in a breath, not meaning his outburst.
She just stared at him, and he took a breath before he touched her face, his thumb caressing her cheekbone, wanting, oh wanting . . . “Please don’t leave Mercy Falls until I get back.”
“Huh?”
“You’re right. Blackburn is moving, and we need to get him. But you’re not going to like how. Because . . . while I go get him, you’re going to go out this back window with Shae and Ned and . . .” He wanted to swear. “Felipe.”
Her eyes widened. “No—what? No! I’m not leaving you here by yourself! What are you going to do—go out there and drag his body in the house with bullets flying at you?”
That was exactly the plan, and he knew it had crazy written all over it. Maybe that truth showed in his eyes because she shook her head in disbelief, which morphed fast into fury. “Well, you can forget that, Pete Brooks! I didn’t come back to Montana to watch you die!”
That stymied him long enough for her to shove him away, reach for the doorknob.
Oh no, she wasn’t leaving—he grabbed her arm and whirled her around. “Then why did you come back, Jess? You have your life all figured out. You’re going to marry Felipe—he told me everything. Including, yes, your mother, although for the life of me, I can’t figure out why you’d let her decide your future. But okay, there it is. So why did you come back? To torment me? Break my heart? Drive me crazy? Remind me that . . . that I was just a stupid fling?”
“A stupid fling? What are you talking about?” Her voice rasped low. “You were never a fling, Pete. I meant it when I said yes . . .”
“Which yes? When I proposed at your house? Or maybe later in Miami when you said you’d come back to me? Or how about at the Eiffel Tower? When exactly did you mean it? Because from where I stand, I’m very confused. Your yesses feel like no.”
Shoot, his voice was shaking, as if he might start crying. He clenched his jaw, fighting the terrible constricting of his chest. No, not here. They just had to get out of here alive.
Knowing she was safe, he might be able to look her in her eyes and bear the truth.
She put her hand on his chest. “I meant it every single time, Pete.” Her eyes filled. “But . . . you don’t understand—”
“Try me, Jess,” he snapped, his hand on hers, not sure if he wanted to hold it there or yank it away.
But really, he should just stop her from talking because her words were destined to wreck him, he knew it in his gut.
“I did try. I called you. On New Year’s Eve, and a dozen times after that.”
His mouth tightened. “I know.”
“You blocked my calls.” She said it so softly, a confirmation more than a question.
“Yes. I was just so—”
“I get it.”
No, probably not, but now the hurt just poured out. “But if you wanted to explain, there are other ways to communicate. A letter, perhaps? You’ve heard of those, right?”
“A person has to have a mailing address to get a letter, Pete.”
“No good, Jess. You know enough about my life to track me down.” He removed her hand from his shirt.
“Okay. Maybe . . .” She swallowed. “I was scared, okay? I knew . . . I knew I’d hurt you. And I didn’t know what to say.”
“How about the truth? Pete, you don’t fit into my life. Pete, move on—”
“Oh, you did that just fine without my permission.”
Her words were a slap. And Felipe’s voice was in his head. “That’s what Selene thought too.”
Jess wiped her hand across her cheek. “And I don’t blame you. I saw Aimee. She’s cute, and you deserve—”
“I’m not with Aimee,” he growled. “I never have been.”
Truth, but—
“It doesn’t matter.” She shook her head.
Except it did. “I didn’t move on, Jess. But you were just going to walk out of my life, no answers, nothing?”
“No! I was going to talk to you—”
“When?”
“I don’t know!” She swallowed, lowered her voice. “I know I am the queen of avoidance. I hate conflict. I hate hurting people and . . . well, I knew I hurt you and I just couldn’t face that.” She looked away. “It was easier to pretend that I could wait and then tell you when . . . I dunno—when I saw you next.”
He stepped back and raised his hands in a sort of help-me-out-here gesture because he didn’t know what to do with that. “As in, what? A natural disaster? A PEAK ten-year reunion?”
Her eyes flashed. “Maybe when my mother died and I could finally come home!”
Oh.
But sorry. For all the grief that hung in her voice, it wasn’t enough to stop him from shaking his head. “I would have dropped everything and come to New York City. To be with you, to help you take care of your mother, or whatever else I could do. I loved you that much, Jess.”
Loved. Yeah, he heard the word but didn’t amend it. He didn’t know why.
Well, actually he did. Because it was finally time to face the truth, something he’d already voiced but hadn’t wanted to believe.
Jess Tagg simply didn’t love him like he loved her. Didn’t want to give up her life, the future she could have with Felipe, the world that was, admittedly, safe and comfortable and ordered, for the mess he lived in.
A world without trouble.
He couldn’t really blame her, given his history with trouble . . . and with women. It didn’t stop the hurt from bleeding into his voice, however, as he probed for the answer he didn’t want to hear.
“The truth is, Jess, I don’t buy the whole ‘I love you but I’m going to get fake engaged’ line. You love me, you come back to me. It’s as simple as that. So I’m sorry, but you need to be truthful—brutally truthful here, honey. Did you ever really want to marry me? Pete Brooks. Because it’s not my imagination that I am the complete and utter opposite of Mr. Right out there, and by the way, if he tries to pin our fight on me, you need to know—”
“You had a fight?”
“Of course we had a fight!” He shook his head. “Sheesh, Jess. I’m not playing a game here. I never was. I loved you. I still . . . oh, shoot.” He took a breath. “I’m pitiful, I know it, but I still love you. And I think the Jess Tagg I used to know loved me. But what about this one? Selene Jessica Taggert. Does she love me? Or just . . . or just the thought of me? The fling she had while she was living a different life in Montana?”
Her eyes filled. “I . . . I’m not the person I left here—”
“That’s what I thought.” And because he didn’t want her to see him cry, didn’t want to let her go—well, with it ending with so many ripped, raw edges, he pulled her to himself and held her. “You were the best thing that ever happened to me, Jess. Your love made me a better man. And now, I’m going to make sure you have a chance to live.”
He pushed her away and opened the bathroom door.
“Pete—”
But he ignored her and headed out into the main room. “Listen up,” he said to Ned and Felipe. “I need to go out there and drag Blackburn into the house. But in the meantime, I found a window in the back. It’s big enough to go through, one at a time. Here’s what’s going to happen. While I’m distracting the shooter, Felipe and Ned are going to take Shae through the window, and then all of you are going to find that truck. And if it’s not there, you’re going to keep going until you get ahold of PEAK.” He unclipped his walkie, walked over to Felipe, and handed it to him. “Send Sam back for me. And don’t let me down.”
Felipe nodded, glancing at Jess, who had come out behind him. Pete spotted her out of his periphery wearing an expression that he didn’t want to get in front of. Well, at least they’d had their closure.
He’d fallen in love with a Jess that no longer existed. And now he could grieve the Jess he’d lost.
“You can’t go out there without cover,” Ned said. “He’ll shoot you.”
Pete picked up the Remington, checked the chamber. “Two shots left.”
Jess came up to him. “Listen. I know how to shoot. Let me cover you.”
“We’re not in a movie, Jess. Two shots aren’t going to cover me.”
“How about smoke?” Ned let go of Shae’s hand. “We have a fire here. We could light something—”
“With the rain and oxygen out there, the smoke won’t be thick enough.”
“Unless we add something to keep it burning. You know fire combustion,” Ned said. “The hotter the fire, the blacker the smoke. And these logs are already on fire. We just need to keep them burning.”
“How about pine resin? A little napalm?” Jess interjected.
Really? “How did you get resin?”
“You taught me, remember?” Jess said. “I used resin to glue Ned’s wound, but I have some left.” She went to the stove and grabbed a cast-iron pan. “We could create a fire bundle, light it, and toss it out in the yard. Let it smoke and blaze and then use it as cover.” Her voice bore too much excitement.
“Not we, Jess.” He ignored her look. “But yeah, good idea.”
He walked over to the firebox and grabbed out magazines, dried pine needles, kindling, and pine logs. “I need something flammable.”
“How about this?” Felipe had gone to the bedroom and now returned with a pillow and a sheet. He handed the pillow to Pete.
While Pete shoved it full with the kindling, Felipe took the sheet and folded it in half, laying it on the floor beside Shae.
“Help her onto it,” he said to Ned.
Pete glanced at Jess, who went to help move Shae to the floor. But she looked up, catching his eye, and he knew he had to get her out of here before she did something stupid.
Like chase after him.
No. No, she wouldn’t do that. She only ran away from him.
Pete brought the fire bundle over to the kitchen and grabbed the pot. The resin sat inside, hard and cool in the bottom of the pan.
“Fuel, oxygen, chemical reaction,” Pete said. “If I light this and shove it in the bag, leaving it open, it’ll flame. And the resin will keep burning until the pillow and the kindling catch fire. The flashover of heat will cause enough smoke to at least cloud the field of vision, and with the dusk and shadows . . .”
He was talking to no one, apparently, because Ned and Felipe had taken the four corners of the sheet, lifted Shae in it, and started toward the bathroom.
Jess stood in the middle of the room.
He headed toward the door, stopping at the stove.
“Wait.” Jess came over to him. “You have to come with us.”
He looked at her and kept his voice soft, even took her hand. “Babe. You need to get out of here. I don’t know who’s out there. But clearly, they’re not giving up. And you’re right—we can’t leave Blackburn to die.”
He didn’t care so much about Blackburn that he was willing to risk his life for him. This craziness had everything to do with Jess. And needing to cause a distraction so she could get away.
The way she was looking at him, she knew it too. Her eyes filled. “Please, Pete—”
“You need to get out of here, now. Please.” Then he leaned over and kissed her, sweetly, on the forehead. Good-bye, Jess. “Run and don’t look back.”
Then he knelt and swung open the stove. Grabbed a log with the tongs and brought it out onto the floor. Shoved it into the mound of pillow, kindling, and resin. Almost immediately, it caught fire, began to smoke.
Jess had moved to the bedroom door. She turned, met his eyes.
I love you. He offered her a half smile, then opened the door and flung the burning mass into the now dusky yard.
He made the mistake of glancing back.
She was gone.
He went out the door.
What was she doing? Maybe shock had completely taken over her body because Jess saw herself climbing up to the window.
Felipe had climbed out first, hitting the ground and then holding out his arms for Ned to pass Shae down. Ned jumped out behind her and turned to help Jess.
She hesitated, standing on the top of the toilet, one leg in, one leg out, listening to Pete’s words rebounding in her head. “The Jess Tagg I used to know loved me. But what about this one? Selene Jessica Taggert. Does she love me?”
Yes. The answer consumed her, filled every pore. Every part of her loved every bit of Pete Brooks, from his blue eyes to his wild ideas that usually—please, God!—worked.
“Or just . . . or just the thought of me? The fling she had while she was living a different life in Montana?”
Those words now stopped her cold.
The thought of Pete. His presence made her brave. Impulsive.
He’d brought out a side of her that both enthralled and frightened her. She found pieces of herself that she hadn’t known existed before she met him.
With Pete she lived with the freedom to taste and believe and live a life that seemed at once exhilarating and terrifying. As if she might be taking a leap off a cliff into a cloudless sky.
But what if . . . what if she simply hit bottom? What if she flung herself into this life and she lost it all? It wasn’t as if Pete was safe. He lived life so far on the edge that he barely touched it. He’d already escaped death a few times.
Flirted with it, really.
He’d never been a fling. But in truth, she didn’t know if she could live with her heart that far out of her body.
With Felipe, at least, she . . . well, he wasn’t the kind of man to run into danger.
Wasn’t going to take her heart and live dangerously with it.
“I’m not with Aimee. I never have been.” Oh, how could she have so easily believed anything but that Pete was the honorable man she knew. And loved. Oh, how she loved.
She hit the grass. Ned let her go and grabbed the end of Shae’s sheet. Felipe worked his way down to the other end, held it behind him. “Let’s go.”
He started moving toward the edge of the forest where a tiny indent in the waning light betrayed a wide trail, big enough for a four-wheeler.
The air reeked of wood smoke and the soggy loam from today’s rain. And over the top of the trees, a blunted sun fought to leave fire in the sky.
She ran after Felipe, toward the trail. “I’m not the person I left here.”
No, that wasn’t what she wanted to say to Pete at all. She was more than the person she’d left here. Because she’d been here. Because she’d met Pete.
“You were the best thing that ever happened to me, Jess. Your love made me a better man.”
And his love had made her more. Jess and Selene.
She wanted them both.
But she only wanted one man.
Her gaze cast over Felipe, good, brave, decent Felipe, as he carried Shae through the darkness. Felipe, who was just as much of a hero as Pete, really. Felipe, who loved her enough to marry her. But who really loved someone else, and they both knew it.
Felipe deserved someone who loved him more than enough.
Jess broke away and headed back toward the house.
“Selene!” The voice hissed into the shadows, but she didn’t expect him to run after her. He grabbed her arm just as she reached the window. “What are you doing?”
She whirled around, found Felipe large and angry behind her. Behind him, Ned stood holding Shae in his arms. “C’mon!”
“No.” She wrenched her arm out of his grip. “Stop, Felipe. You know . . .” Her eyes filled. “You know I can’t leave him.”
Shae’s words in the cave rebounded back to her. “Someone is going to get hurt here, Jess. And right now, it’s everyone. Make a choice.”
She just did.
And Felipe knew it. He shook his head, his eyes deepening with hurt. “Don’t be foolish, Selene. You need to come with me. Right now.”
Maybe she was being a little foolish. But she wasn’t so naive not to understand his words. He didn’t just mean right now, but forever.
“Felipe—”
“He cheated on you! You were right. He cheated on you on New Year’s Eve. And probably since then too.”
She recoiled. Blinked hard. “No, he didn’t. He and Aimee aren’t together.”
Felipe just gave her a look, something that fisted her heart. “Maybe it wasn’t with this Aimee person. Probably it was with someone he barely remembers.”
“No.” She shook her head, almost fiercely. “And besides, it’s not cheating if we weren’t together. He thought it was over, that you and I were engaged—”
“No, Selene. He didn’t know that then.”
She drew in a breath. “I hurt him.”
“And he’ll hurt you.” Felipe caught her face in his hands. “Think about it—he’s reckless and dangerous and . . .” He swallowed. “I love you.”
“You love me enough.”
“No. I love you. Period. Not just enough. I see you, Selene. I see how brave you are, beautiful and smart and—”
“I’m not Selene. Or not just Selene. Not anymore.” She pulled Felipe’s hands from her face. “I can’t be who you want me to be. I love—”
Shots. They cracked the dusky sky. One, then another and Jess jerked away from Felipe. “Go! Please. If you love me, get Shae and Ned to safety!” She pushed him away, ignored his horrified expression, and fled to the front of the house.
The smoke had turned the yard into a ghostly moor of fog, and she could barely make out the figures.
When she did, she stifled a scream, her hand over her mouth.
Two bodies. Blackburn, unmoving.
And Pete.
He lay a few feet from Blackburn, just steps from the deck, the smoking, flaming bundle between him and Blackburn.
Pete!
The sight of him crumpled in the grass simply ignited her entire body. On impulse and grief she raced toward him.
It all happened so fast, she didn’t know exactly how to parse it out.
At the smoky edge of the forest, a figure rose, but she kept her focus on Pete.
Who was also rising, gathering his feet under him.
Just as she launched herself at him, he leaped up and tackled her. Arms around her, moving his body to cushion her fall.
They landed with a thump into the grass, so hard it knocked out her breath. But Pete wasn’t done. He rolled with her, over and over, until they reached the grassy edge of the woods.
Shots exploded around them. She tried to get her hands over her head, but Pete had her by the back of her dress, pulling her up, clutching her close. He grabbed her hand and hauled her forward even as she gulped for breath.
“Run!”
Into the woods again, this time led by Pete. Somehow she found her breath and stumbled after him.
Then they were running with fury into the shadowy forest, Pete slapping away the trees and brush, without a look behind him.
Another shot shattered bark from a nearby tree, and Pete jerked her in front of him, pushing her now. “Faster, Jess!”
She held her hands out, her heart thundering. A downed tree tripped her, but Pete grabbed her around the waist, holding her tight to his strong body.
They kept running. Shaggy white pine slapped her face, her arms. They slipped on pine needles, her feet soggy in the wet loam, and not far off she heard the river, loud and raucous. Another shot, this one pinging against a giant boulder that cluttered their path.
Ahead—oh no. The forest opened up into an expanse that suggested a flying leap off a cliff into the abyss below.
Pete skidded to a stop, yanked her hard against himself, breathing in razor-edged gasps. “Okay, okay.” He turned, then grabbed her hand and pulled her along the ledge. “There.”
A rocky overhang, big enough to hide them.
He ripped off his jacket and threw it around her shoulders, zipped it up. Then he pushed her down, guiding her into the space. “Time to hide.”
She climbed into the enclave, and he followed her in, his arms around her, his body hiding hers.
He bent his head to her ear. “Don’t make a sound.”
She dug her hands in his shirt, beginning to shake. He tightened his hold on her, his own chest rising and falling hard.
Finally, “Why, Jess?” he whispered, breaking his own rules.
And because he’d told her not to make a sound, she touched her hand to his whiskered face, moved it to hers, and without a word kissed him.
He froze. Simply didn’t move. Not his breath, not his hands, not his mouth. Just stilled, as if, for the first time in his life, he hadn’t a clue how to react.
But his heartbeat betrayed him, practically slamming against her chest. Yes, that’s right, Pete. I can be impulsive, brave, and I choose you. She put it all into her kiss, ignoring the fact that he couldn’t seem to catch up.
Yeah, well her too, because she’d leaped so far out of the Selene, and frankly, the Jess she’d been—and it felt glorious.
Terrifying, yes, but when Pete made a tiny groan in the back of his throat, maybe even in his heart, and began to kiss her back, it seemed exactly right. He pulled her tight against him, his mouth urgent and possessive.
There was the Pete she knew.
She could stay right here, forever—
He pulled away, his lips against her ear. “Jess, I don’t think . . . I—”
“Don’t make a sound,” she said and pulled him back down.
For a long, delicious, Pete Brooks moment, he used everything but words to speak. It seemed he couldn’t get enough of her as he ran his hands into her hair, tucking her in close, kissing her with such a fullness that she forgot she was supposed to be afraid.
Because she was with Pete.
He smelled of the forest, the earth, of a man who had fought the elements to find her.
He finally took a breath and pushed away. But in the fading light, the shadows on his face betrayed a sort of panic. “Jess,” he whispered. “The way you kiss me. I . . . don’t know what’s happening here. Why didn’t you go with Felipe?”
She was about to answer when his hand clamped over her mouth. He leaned close, his breathing shallow.
Footsteps, a cracking of branches. Shuffling of leaves.
She closed her eyes.
“Brooks! I know you’re out here. And I’m going to find you!”
Pete’s body stiffened. He lifted his head. And when she opened her eyes, he had his gaze fixed on hers, the realization stark in them.
Whoever was after them was after . . . Pete?
She didn’t move, didn’t breathe. The footsteps moved away, and Pete bent his head, propped it on her shoulder. He was trembling.
“Who was that?” she whispered finally.
“I don’t know,” Pete answered on a wisp of breath. “But we need to get out of here.”
“Where?”
“Back to the house. We’ll barricade ourselves inside and wait for PEAK to show up.”
It seemed like the right idea.
“Hold on to my hand, don’t let go,” Pete said as he eased them out of the enclave.
Never.