Hunted, A Romantic Suspence Novel (18 page)

Read Hunted, A Romantic Suspence Novel Online

Authors: Suzanne Ferrell

Tags: #A Romantic Suspence Novel

BOOK: Hunted, A Romantic Suspence Novel
10.77Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“Matt,” her eyes filled with the glisten of unshed tears. “I don’t want anything to happen to you or anyone in your family because of me.”

He released her shoulders to cup her face in his hands. “Sweetheart, nothing is going to happen to anyone in my family. Mom and Dad are spending the next week with Sami and Jake. Besides, Mom wants to be near Sami in case the baby comes. Dave and his family are down in Cincinnati. No one’s going to bother them.”

“What about Luke?”

He rolled his eyes. His little brother didn’t need her worrying about him. “The boy genius is going to meet us where we’re going.”

“Where are we going?”

“A cabin in the woods, totally unconnected with you.” He kissed her once, deeply, then moved away before it could become more. “Now get your stuff together, woman.”

She started up the stairs. Halfway, she stopped and looked back at him, concern on her face. “What about the dogs?”

“We can’t stay here just to care for the dogs. Craig and his wife will be home tomorrow. They’ll be fine for a day, and Luke will see to letting them out before he joins us.”

“We can’t just leave them here, alone.”

“I thought you hated dogs.”

“I don’t hate dogs. I just…they scare me. But these guys…” She hesitated a moment. “They’re not too bad.”

“Katie, they can’t go with us.”

“Wouldn’t they be able to stay at the cabin with us?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know how long we’ll be there.”

“Where else are we going?”

God, he hated telling her this, but she needed to hear it.

“When I played football I always hated being on the defense. I prefer to attack.”

“Who are we attacking?”

“Everyone. First the Marshals, then your hit man. Even Strict if we have to. It’s time to get some answers.”

* * * * *

Katie relaxed as they drove along through the winter woods. They’d traveled south from the city for nearly an hour, finally turning off the highway onto a single lane road. Then they pulled onto a gravel road that led further into the Hocking Hills Matt drove through a metal gate and up to a modern day log cabin, complete with covered porch for sitting outside. “Whose cabin is this?”

“It belongs to my sister and her husband. Last year Jake put in some security features.”

“Why?”

“It’s a complicated story having to do with the Russian Mafia and my nephew, Nicky. Right now it’s the safest place for us to stay.”

His explanation left her more curious than before. Since she had darker secrets than most people, she decided not to push him. If he wanted to tell her more later it would be his decision. If not, well, that was his decision, too.

He parked the car then reached for a remote control lying on the console between the seats. With one press of the button, the gate closed behind them. Then he pressed a second one and the interior lights came on in the house.

“Neat trick.”

He winked. “I can get radar sweeps and set motion sensors if we want them.”

“Don’t you think that’s overkill?” she asked.

The humor left his eyes, and his lips pressed into a thin line. “They’ve tried three times to kill you. I think anything we use to protect you is justified.”

She blinked at the passion in his words. Unable to voice the raw emotions coursing through her, she opened her door and stepped out into the cold December air. “Just don’t set the motion detectors until your brother gets here.”

He chuckled, the intensity gone. “It might be fun to watch him set them off.”

Inside the cabin, she marveled at the rustic charm combined with the high-tech kitchen and electronics. The river-stone fireplace ran from floor to ceiling in the main room. Off to one side was a small niche completely filled with a twin bed, and in the room beyond was a large wrought iron bed.

“You take the back bedroom,” he said from right behind her, making her catch her breath. “Luke and I’ll camp down out here.”

“How long will we be here?” She set her bags on the big bed.

He stood in the door, completely filling it, and watched her. “That depends on what Luke finds out and you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. If you can think of who Strict might have sent after you, then we’ll make plans to trap him.”

“I can’t figure out who it is, Matt. I tried all morning while you were gone.” She turned to stare out the window at the snow covered pine trees, frustration humming through her. “When I look at those pictures, the only things I see are bad memories.”

His arms came around her, and he pulled her back against his warm chest. “I know, sweetheart. It’s got to be hard for you to remember what you went through back then. But you’re the only one who knows Strict’s people well enough to pinpoint the hit man. Somewhere locked in your past is the name.”

“I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“Katie, if you give up now, Strict wins.”

“I know.”

He held her for a long time, the cabin’s stillness only interrupted by the steady strong beat of his heart against her ear. She could stay like this forever. But there would be no forever for her, here or anywhere else, if she didn’t stop Strict’s plans.

Shoulders slumping she groaned. “I guess I can go through the pictures one more time.”

His lips pressed against the top of her head. “Just try to relax. Don’t fight the memories. Remember they can’t hurt you anymore.”

“They do hurt.” She moved out of his arms and into the cabin’s main room. Picking up the packet of pictures, she sat at the table then turned her head to study him. “Only this time, I know I have the right to get angry about what happened and no one is going to punish me for it.”

“Did you remember anything this morning?” He pulled out a chair opposite her and sat.

“Nothing helpful.” She flipped through a few of the pictures. “The problem is, none of the people have the skills to bomb my car, rig that shotgun explosion, and shoot out my tire with such accuracy.”

He rubbed his chin. “Who would have those skills?”

“That’s what I was trying to figure out this morning. Five men were arrested and sent to prison as co-conspirators. Were any of them released recently?”

He shrugged and seemed to consider her question. “I don’t know, but we can have Jake see if he can find out for us. There’s a great advantage to having an FBI agent in the family.”

He turned over a piece of paper from the file and started writing names. “Were they the only ones who possessed that combination of skills?”

“No. There were three more.”

“Who were they?” he asked, his pen poised to write.

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. All three were killed in the Federal Building blast.”

“You mentioned them before. What were their names, again?”

Damn, he was bullheaded.

“Gideon, Strict’s second in command. Michael, his most devoted follower, and Gabriel, a young member.” She rolled her eyes. “He gave them all biblical aliases. I think it made him feel more powerful.”

“A judge and two angels. His ego needed the reinforcement.” Matt winked at her and added the names. “Just so we don’t forget anyone. We’ll list everyone you can remember from that time, okay?”

She nodded. It felt good to be doing something. But she also knew it was pointless. The only people capable of all the attempts on her life had died a decade ago. Strict was going to win, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.

* * * * *

The Angel waited in the mall’s parking lot an hour.

Time to face facts. The patrolman had given him the slip.

Somewhere along the line his tail had been made. They’d traveled north, stopping several places along the way. Each time the patrolman had entered a store and come out within thirty minutes. Finally, he’d stopped at this mall, and hadn’t come out again.

Maybe the girl had found someone smart enough to help her this time.

Slowly he unfolded his six-foot frame from the sedan. He grabbed his duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. The weight inside barely changed his posture. He was used to lugging his weapons with him.

He’d make one pass through the mall, just in case the officer truly was making one last errand stop. Although he doubted it. Somehow the guy made him, dumped the truck and hightailed it back to the girl.

He knew it as sure as he knew the clock was ticking.

The crush inside the mall was worse than the one in the parking lot. Two days after Christmas, and everyone was trying to return presents they hated or didn’t fit. The ones not doing that were redeeming gift certificates before any good merchandise disappeared.

Strolling casually from the entrance to his right, he scanned the crowds as he moved. His mind recalled every detail of the tall, dark haired officer he’d watched exit the patrol headquarters.

At a pretzel stand the Angel stopped and watched the crowd behind him. No one seemed to be pacing him. He bought a cinnamon pretzel and indulged in just a bit of everyday suburban life.

People milled about like ants, running in and out of stores as quickly as they could, not a care in the world.

With one sweep of my Uzi, I could drop at least a hundred in a split second.

Now wouldn’t that make lovely news for this holiday season?

But that wasn’t on his agenda, so the little clueless people were safe for another day.

Time to find the girl and carry out the Prophet’s plans.

He finished the pretzel, licking the cinnamon from his fingers. Then he headed for the exit opposite the one he’d entered.

Early this morning he’d gotten the Patrolman’s license plate number from Robert Hagen then tied up that loose end. Now he needed to dump Hagen’s sedan just in case the patrolman had noted the license plate. Then he had to find alternate transportation. Luckily for him there were thousands of possibilities to choose from in the mall’s lot.

Since following the patrolman was no longer an option, he’d have to fall back to his usual source of information. He smiled slowly and slipped his sunglasses in place.

He stood just outside the mall door in the cold December air and flipped open his cell phone. Punching a button to autodial the US Marshals’ number, he waited for the usual two rings before it was answered.

“Hello, love.”

* * * * *

Matt poured Katie another cup of coffee. She’d finished three since they’d arrived. She ought to be wired. Yet she sat and studied those damn pictures as if her life depended on it.

He ground his teeth. Her life did depend on what she remembered and how much they could use the information to protect her.

Earlier, they’d talked to Jake and he’d informed them that the co-conspirators were all still firmly behind bars. That ruled them out as Strict’s hit man.

He hated this feeling of complete helplessness.
There had to be something he could do.

“Think, Katie. One of those people is the one Strict has trying to kill you.” He set the mug down in front of her.

“I’m trying. I’ve done nothing but stare at these pictures for the past three hours.”

“And nothing has triggered a memory that could help us?”

She pushed the file across the table, spewing its contents onto his lap. “Oh, I remember things, Matt.”

“Tell me. Maybe I can figure it out,” he ground out between clenched teeth as he caught pictures threatening to fall on the floor.

“You want to know what I see when I look at those pictures? I see the time I stood by and watched Strict and my mother eat a meal, then feed the leftovers to the dogs without sparing one small bite for me. I remember how hungry I was that night, and how my mother betrayed me.”

She stood, her hands braced on the table, her eyes blazing with fiery anger.

“I see the first time Strict dragged me out into the freezing rain in my pajamas and forced me to recite the family’s weapons manual. I remember being stranded on the top of a cliff, scared to death of falling, Strict standing below calling me filthy names and threatening to leave me there for the wolves to get. I was all of thirteen.”

Matt stood, dropped the slapped together pile of pictures on the table and leaned over it. “You have to be missing something, Katie.”

“Don’t you see, Matt? I remember everything—every time I was beaten, the pain, the fear, the humiliation. Not one bit of it points a finger at who’s trying to kill me.”

They stood that way, barely a foot apart, the heated air in the kitchen rising by degrees, electricity sparking between them.

A cough at the front door broke the tension in the room.

“Did I interrupt something?” Luke stood there, a shit-eating grin from ear to ear.

A low flush crept across Katie’s face. Matt fought the urge to throw something at his brother. “No, and where the hell have you been?”

Luke closed the door and dropped his bag on the floor. “Well, after you left me at the car rental and took off with my car, I circled back around to the black sedan.”

“Dammit, Luke, I told you not to get too close. This isn’t a game. We’re talking about someone not afraid to kill.”

Luke slapped him on the shoulder. “Not a problem big brother. It took me an hour to get back. By the time I did, the car was empty.”

Matt leaned back in his chair, the urge to throttle his brother decreasing slightly.

“So you found nothing,” Katie asked as she righted the pile of pictures on the table.

Matt watched her movements. The same awareness that had flashed between them still hummed through his body.

Luke grinned at her. “I didn’t say that.”

“Quit flirting with Katie and spill the news,” Matt said, the option of strangling his brother still a distinct possibility. He felt Katie watching him as she went to pour her coffee out in the sink. Ignoring the sensation of her gaze on him he sat, his attention totally focused on his brother.

A serious expression spread over Luke’s face. “I got the car owner’s name. It belongs to a file clerk in the Department of Motor Vehicles named Robert Hagen.”

Chinaware crashed in the sink.

Katie’s face went pale and Matt grabbed her before she could sink to her knees.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Luke pulled out a chair for her and Matt helped her onto it.

Other books

Bad Men Die by William W. Johnstone
Harry & Ruth by Howard Owen
Tales of the South Pacific by James A. Michener
Guinea Pig by Curtis, Greg
The Dimple Strikes Back by Lucy Woodhull
Backstage with a Ghost by Joan Lowery Nixon
Drive by Wolf by Jordyn Tracey