Ring of Lies (63 page)

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Authors: Victoria Howard

BOOK: Ring of Lies
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Long enough for whoever is out there to assume we’re gator food. Thirsty?

 

She nodded and shifted position. Jack offered her the bottle of water from his backpack. She took a few sips. Lukewarm, it did little to quench her thirst.

 


Kennedy and Anderson will contact Mike when we don’t show up at
the house
,

said Jack.

He’ll
organize
a search as soon as it’s light.

 


You can’t be sure of that.

 


I’m sure.

 

Grace bit down on the inside of her cheek. The pain kept the confusion roiling inside of her from spilling out. She didn’t know whether to believe him or not. The night closed in around them. She’d never been afraid of the dark, but hemmed in by palmettos and willow bustic, every branch and leaf seemed to threaten her very existence.

 

The moonlight cast crazy shadows on the ground.
Water dripped and plopped through bushes, ran down leaves, soaking her skin. Her blood ran cold, her teeth chattered uncontrollably. Apart from the sound of rustling leaves and creaking branches, there was silence.

 

Grace
lost all track of time.
Something slithered over her leg. She clamped her hands to her mouth to hold back a scream, as the cold, lithe body of a snake wrapped itself around her foot.

 

Jack hissed in her ear.

It’s a corn snake—non venomous. The heat must have brought it out of hibernation. Don’t move.

 


Get it off me! Get it off me, now!

Heart booming in her ears, she watched, mesmerized, as the snake paused to taste the air before unwinding its sinuous body, and gliding through the undergrowth toward a dense thicket of palmetto.

 


It’s okay, it’s gone.

 

Grace relaxed, sinking into Jack’s cushioning embrace. His hands cupped her face. His lips brushed her temple, her cheek.

 


It’s okay,

he repeated, and then his lips found her mouth in a kiss that made her senses spin.

 

All the fear that she’d worked hard to control flared into passion. The need that rose up in her so strong, so unlike anything she’d ever felt before, that all she could do was let the moment spin out around them.

 

Breathless, Jack dragged his mouth from hers. He ran a fingertip over lips. She didn’t move. One of his hands slid into her hair. And he leaned in until his lips were almost brushing hers.

 


I shouldn’t have done that. But damn it, Grace, I want you.

 


You do?

 


I want you so much it scares me.

 


But now’s not the time or the place?

 

Jack shook his head.

There are things we need to talk about. Things I need to explain.

 


Later?

 


Promise.

 

She saw the light, then

a
narrow beam swinging from side to side at the edge of the trees. Every nerve in her body tensed.

 

The light grew brighter.

 

The leaves of the palmettos and bustic crackled
and rustled
as their pursuer came within yards of their hideaway. The surrounding bushes convulsed as something heavy thrashed down through the branches.

 

Moving silently, Jack came to his knees, arms outstretched, gun at the ready, a lethal calmness in his eyes.

 

Grace stuffed her knuckles in her mouth to suppress a scream. Bile rose in her throat. She willed the sickness away. Rigid with fear, she crouched in the bushes, certain she was about to die.

 

After moment, their pursuer moved off to the left.

 

Water rippled and bubbled.

 

Suddenly, the light swung in a semicircle and settled back on their hiding place.

 

Grace’s instinct
s told her
to spring to her feet and run, and keep on running, but whoever was out there would kill her
,
then Jack. She couldn’t allow that.

 

Jack shifted position, his gun following the narrow beam of the light as it danced through the branches.

 

A shadow stepped out of the trees.

 


It’s no use hiding. I know you’re
in
there,

a male voice shouted.

 

The ground in front of Grace exploded in a hail of bullets. She scooted backward into the head-high scrub, ignoring the sharp leaves of the palmetto that scratched and tore at her skin.

 

Jack yelled, and waited until the light focused on him, then returned fire. The gunman cursed, but let off another round.
A
bullet
slammed into the tree next to Jack’s shoulder, sending bark chips flying.

 

Jack fired again in rapid succession. Grace lost count of the shots.

 

The shoo
ter screamed, sank to his knees, a hand
clutched to his chest as he crumpled to the ground.

 


S
tay here until I tell you it’s safe to move,

Jack called. He edged forward, his gun trained on the spot where the man lay face down in the dirt. He kicked the man’s
weapon
away, then lean
ed
down and felt for a pulse.

 

Grace crawled out from her hiding place.

Is…
is he dead?

 

Jack lowered his gun, and spun round.

Yeah, he’s dead.

He stood and walked over to her and helped to her feet. Smothering a groan, she fell into his arms and pressed her face to his shoulder.

 


Do you think he was alone?

 


We’d have known by now if
he
weren’t. Think you can hold the flashlight for me? I need to check for ID.

 

Grace picked it up from where it lay on the ground and shone it toward the body. She tried not to look at the rapidly growing stain covering the man’s shirt. The world spun and she swayed. She closed her eyes against the nausea that rose in her throat.

 


You okay?

Jack said.

 


I feel—

She quickly turned away and bent over.

 

Jack locked an arm around her waist and held her steady until she was done. When she turned around and looked at him, her face was shockingly pale.

 


Don’t feel embarrassed. I hurl every time I walk into an autopsy.

 

Grace wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

I didn’t
realize
there’d be so much blood,

she said through clenched teeth, her body shaking.

 


Here, rinse out,

Jack said, offering her the bottle of water.

 

Grace did he suggested, then poured some into her hands and splashed it on her face.

 


Feeling better?

 

She nodded, head down, eyes focused on her feet.

 


Go and stand by that tree while I finish up here.

 

Taking a deep, unsteady breath, she tottered away, her hands clenched stiffly at her sides. Jack dropped to his knees next to their assailant, and went through his pockets.

 


Do you recognize him?

she called over her shoulder.

 


No, and there’s nothing in his pockets except a book of matches and a set of keys. We’ll need fingerprints and dental records to make a formal identification.

He pocketed both, picked up the assailant’s gun, and strode over to where she stood. He lightly touched her elbow.

 


Let’s get out of here.

 

Grace looked at the body with distaste.

What about him?

 


T
he medical examiner can collect what the alligator’s leave behind.

 

Her energy drained, every footstep became an effort. Several times they were forced to backtrack almost to the edge of the slough before they finally found their way out of the marsh onto a dirt track.

 

Grace hunched over, her arms resting on her thighs.

Which way now?

 

Jack turned to his left and walked a little way down the track, then walked back, stopping in front of her. The ground was damp from the rain, but
he could still make out faint ty
re tracks.

 


That way,

he said pointing to the right.

 


Are you sure?

 


There’s a stand of trees up ahead. I reckon that’s where we left the car.

He shifted the backpack into a more comfortable position on his shoulder.

You ready?

 

Grace pushed back her
tousled hair
and straightened. Used to the sounds of the night and the shifting shadows, her hand slipped into Jack’s as they walked quickly, guided only by the
silvery
moonlight.

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