Trusting a Stranger (5 page)

Chapter Eight

The silence of
the woods, combined with his habitual alertness, usually gave Graham plenty of notice whenever someone got even close to near to the cabin. More often than not, he could hear them for miles out.

This afternoon had been an exception.

A stupid exception, considering you
knew
he was coming.

But Graham had spent the whole night lying awake beside the girl, worrying about every pause in her inhales and exhales, overthinking every shift of her body, and second-guessing both his stitching job and his decision to ply her with the booze.

Was the fishing line too coarse to be effective? Were the stitches evenly spaced? Would the alcohol worsen the side effects of her concussion?

Graham had been so distracted by his concern that he didn’t hear the approaching snowmobile until it was so close he could actually look outside and see it. He’d barely had time to close the door behind him before the man in front of him—who was currently struggling to unfasten his helmet—parked his vehicle at the edge of the house.

Graham worked at fixing something like a smile on his face.

As much as he trusted and relied on Dave Stark, he had a feeling that the girl’s presence might jar the man’s loyalty. It was one thing for the two of them to keep Graham’s hideout a secret—adding an innocent unknown would be a whole different story.

So Graham stood with his hands in his jeans’ pockets and waited with as much patience as he could muster for the familiar man to unclip and remove his helmet, and was careful to keep his gaze forward. He didn’t let his eyes flick worriedly toward the cabin. Toward
her
.

The other man finally got his helmet free, and when he whipped it off, Graham frowned. A deep purple bruise darkened one of Stark’s eyes, and a long abrasion led from his left eyebrow to the corner of his lip. He seemed indifferent to the damage.

Graham gave the other man’s appearance a second, more scrutinizing once-over. Even aside from his injuries, he did look unusually worse for wear. His jacket was dirty and torn in a few places. When he turned slightly, the cold sun glinted off a metallic object at his waist.

A pistol.

Graham’s eyes skimmed over it, then went back to Dave’s face. Never before had his friend seen a need to bring a gun to the cabin. He wasn’t brandishing the weapon, but he wasn’t trying to disguise its presence, either. There was something about the way he wore it that Graham didn’t like.

“What the hell’s going on?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Stark countered.

“Me? I’m not the one who looks like he just rolled out of a bar fight.”

Dave shrugged. “Occupational hazard. You wanna tell me what you meant by ‘change of plans’?”

“I meant that I’ll make my own way into town.”

Dave couldn’t hide his surprise. Or the hint of fear in his eyes.

“Why would you do that?” he wanted to know.

“Few loose ends to tie up.”

“Four years, we’ve been waiting for this. You’ve sunk every available penny into finding the man. What loose ends could possibly—” The other man cut himself off and narrowed his eyes shrewdly. “What’s this about?”

Graham held his gaze steady. “I can’t just walk away from this setup, Dave. If things go south with Mike Ferguson, I need to know that my space isn’t in danger of being compromised.”

Dave sighed. “It’s
already
compromised.”

“What do you mean?”

“Been an accident up on the road that comes in from the resort town,” Dave replied. “Happened to catch it on the radio right before I left town. Car went over a cliff yesterday. Burned to a crisp. Couldn’t even get a discernable VIN.”

A dark chill crept up Graham’s spine. “Not sure what a car accident’s got to do with me. Or you, for that matter.”

Dave’s eyes strayed to the cabin. “You wanna rethink that?”

Graham refused to follow the other man’s gaze. “Why? I’ve been up here four years and nothing has ever turned the radar my way.”

“Is this how you want to play? Because if you can’t trust
me
...”

It was Graham’s turn to let out a breath. He trusted Dave about as much as he trusted anyone.

Which isn’t much at all.

But there was no way he was admitting that. The man had been his best friend for two decades, and the only person he could count on for the past few of those.

“Explain it to me, then,” Graham said instead. “Tell me how the accident affects me.”

“I know cops, my friend. That radio chatter—it’s suspicious. They think the burn was a little too perfect.”

“So?”

“So, the only thing I know better than cops is
you
. And I know exactly what was going through your head yesterday when we talked on the radio. You were champing at the bit to get to Ferguson. I spent the whole day assuming you’d show up at the resort and that I’d have to hold you back. So I think maybe you
did
leave the cabin yesterday. And I think maybe something stopped you. Something that started out as a vehicle and ended up as a burned-up piece of trash.”

“The road is forty miles from here. You think I could’ve trekked through that and made it back here already?”

Dave shook his head. “I don’t think you took the traditional route. The back way is only ten miles. Really rough terrain. But again...this is you we’re talking about, isn’t it? You’ve never done things the easy way.”

Graham refused to take the bait. “The road is the last place I want to be. So I’m still not seeing what the accident has to do with me.”

“It wasn’t just a little crash. They’re going to be looking for answers. And this isn’t all that far to look. Come with me now. Unless you have some other reason for staying...”

As Dave trailed off, all the hair on the back of Graham’s neck stood up.

“Get on your snowmobile, Dave,” he replied, just short of a growl. “I’ll come to you when I’m ready.”

“C’mon, Graham—”

“
Now
, Dave.”

“All right. This is your deal.”

The other man slipped on his helmet, swung one leg over his snowmobile, then flipped up his protective visor and met Graham’s cool stare.

“One other thing,” he said. “She’s a neighbor.”

A neighbor? What the hell did that mean?

“She?”

“The driver.”

“How could you even know the driver was a she?” Graham scoffed. “You said the car was burned to a crisp.”

“It was. But I found
this
right alongside those snowshoe tracks.”

Dave reached to the side of the snowmobile, unsnapped a storage compartment and pulled out a black purse, then tossed it through the air. Graham caught it easily. He didn’t have to open it to know it was hers.

“Best guess, it’ll take them two days to expand their search out this way,” Dave added. “Tops. But that won’t matter, right? Because you’ll be on your way back home.”

“Right,” Graham agreed, hoping the word didn’t sound as forced as it felt.

As Dave’s vehicle disappeared into the snow, Graham’s hand squeezed into a tight, angry fist, crushing the purse for a moment before he regained control.

Very slowly, he peeled his fingers from the purse. Even more slowly, he unsnapped it and opened the zipper. He reached straight for the wallet and slid out the driver’s license. And there it was in black and white.

Keira London Niles. Resident of Derby Reach. The city where Graham had found Holly’s broken body. What were the odds?

Slim to none.

Graham took three determined steps toward the cabin, then paused.

The front door creaked open, just a crack.

What the hell?

Graham took another cautious step. No way had he forgotten to close the door properly. He spun around just in time to see the girl—dressed in a pair of his boots and too-long sweatshirt—lift a metallic object behind her shoulder as if she was wielding a baseball bat. Her legs were more than a little shaky, but her face was set in a determined glare as she swung the fire iron straight at his chest.

Chapter Nine

The big man
was too slick. As Keira swung with all her might, he leaned back like an action-movie hero, easily dodging the blow.

You might have overestimated your own abilities, too
,
she thought as she lost her footing and stumbled forward.

Keira shoved down the nagging voice. She preferred to blame it on him. Especially since he had his arms outstretched as if he was going to
catch
her of all things.

Ignoring him, she drew back the weapon again. And Calloway took a half a step back.

Good.

“Give me the coat,” Keira commanded.

He frowned wordlessly, and Keira rolled her eyes.

“You can drop the silent, brooding stare,” she said, just the slightest hint of a tremor in her voice. “I heard you talking to that other man. Who is he?”

Calloway gave her a long considering look before replying gruffly. “Drop the weapon and I’ll drop the stare. Tell me what you heard.”

For a moment, Keira went still as her brain caught up to her ears.

Calloway’s voice had that same gravelly tinge she’d noted when it had carried on the wind into the cabin, only this close, it was amplified all the more. It was a good voice.

“I heard just enough to know you’re a liar,” she snapped. “Give me the coat and tell me who that man was.”

He stared at her again, then shrugged and slipped the Gore-Tex from his shoulders.

“I don’t know why you care,” he told her. “And it’s funny that you think
I’m
the deceptive one.”

“What does
that
mean?” The defensive question slipped out before Keira could stop it, making her blush.

He held the jacket out. “It means I don’t believe in coincidence.”

“That makes two of us. Throw it.”

Calloway tossed the jacket, and Keira caught it in the air, careful to keep one hand on the fire iron as she did it.

“I played all-star baseball in high school,” she warned as she started to dig through the pockets in search of her phone. “And I once hit a home run with a broken arm. So don’t assume that my injuries will make me any less willing to swing with everything I’ve got.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Keira narrowed her eyes. She strongly suspected he was trying not to smile.

If he laughs, I’ll hit him anyway
, she decided.

But he stayed silent.

Keira stuck her hand into another pocket. One she was sure she’d already explored. Where the hell was her phone?

“Are you looking for something in particular?” Calloway asked, his voice just a little too innocent.

She glared at him. “Listen. You might have saved my life—”

“Might have?” Graham interrupted. “You were unconscious. In a blizzard. I’m not sure
might
is the right word.”

Keira’s cheeks heated up. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“So how did you mean it? The way
I
mean it when I say I might be standing outside, freezing, while a woman who I carried for ten miles, who I took into my house, who I gave my own
bed
to, aims a weapon at my head?”

The pink in Keira’s face deepened to a cherry red, and he noticed her hand wavered. “I—”

Graham shook his head and cut her off again. “Or did you mean it like how I mean it when I say I might just be considering tossing you over my shoulder—again—carrying you
back
to the crash site and leaving you there?”

“You wouldn’t!”

“I
might
.”

His voice was dark, and Keira’s eyes widened in surprise. She took a step back, her gaze no longer fixed on his face, but on his hand.

“That’s my purse.” She heard the tinge of fear in her statement.

“Keira London Niles of Derby Reach. There has to be a story in that name. Active member of Triple A. Twenty-four years old, just last month,” he reeled off. “Happy birthday, by the way. Did you know your license was expired?”

“Give it back!”

He held it out, but there was no way for her to take it without losing her already tenuous hold on the fire iron in her hands.

“You don’t want it anymore?” he asked.

“I’m not stupid,” she grumbled.

“Far from it,” Calloway agreed.

He set the purse down on the railing, reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar black object. Keira felt the color drain from her cheeks, and the jacket slipped to the ground.

Well. That explains why I couldn’t find it
, she thought.

“Who were you going to call?” Calloway wondered out loud.

It was a good question. One Keira wasn’t even sure of how to answer. Calling Drew seemed out of the question. Her parents were away on their annual European cruise. And her best friend would probably just laugh her butt off.

“The police,” she whispered, not certain why she sounded so unsure.

Calloway tipped his head to one side, as if curious, and tapped the phone on his chin. “Not someone from
Derby Reach
?”

Why had he said it like that, with the tiny bit of emphasis on the name of her hometown? She recalled the scrapbook full of newspaper clippings about the murder in her hometown, and a little chill crept up her spine.

* * *

G
RAHAM
EXAMINED
THE
little crease between her brows, then the probing look in her emerald gaze. His gaze traveled down her face to her pursed lips. He almost believed the puzzled look to be genuine. And as a result, he also almost missed the subtle adjustment in her stance as she pulled an elbow back and prepared to strike.

I’m a sucker
, he realized.
One pair of big green eyes, one bossy mouth, and I’m a mess.

She swung and Graham ducked backward. He charged at her, and she lost her balance, stumbling toward the stairs. Automatically, Graham switched from an attack mode to defense mode. He reached out to stabilize her, and realized a moment too late her clumsiness had been an act, her near fall a feint.

Rookie mistake
, he growled at himself.

She was already off at a run.

“What the hell!” Graham yelled after her.

She had to know she didn’t stand a chance of getting away from him. Even if she hadn’t been weakened by her injuries, Graham was at an advantage. His legs were longer, he was far more accustomed to the terrain than she was and he wasn’t wearing boots five sizes too big.

Apparently, she wasn’t going to let that stop her from trying.

Graham caught up with her just inside the tree line on the edge of the clearing. His arms closed around her shoulders and the fire iron dropped to the ground. With a mutual grunt, the two of them fell straight into the snow.

She wriggled away, kicking viciously. Keira’s foot met his chest, and when she drew it back for another round, Graham flung himself backward.

“Dammit!” he cursed as he landed hard on his rear end.

“Damn
you
!” Keira countered angrily.

She crawled along the snow, found a tree trunk and pulled herself up. But Graham was there in a flash.

“You can’t win,” he cajoled.

With desperation clear in her eyes, she charged at him. The surprise of the attack—more than the force of her body weight hitting him—knocked him to the ground once more. Graham let out another annoyed growl and sprung to his feet. By the time he was upright, Keira had the tire iron in her hands again, this time raised over her head.

“Stay back!” she yelled, and waved it around a little wildly.

Graham eyed the weapon dismissively, then focused on Keira instead. “Put it down.”

“Fat chance.”

“Put it down, or I’m going to
make
you put it down.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Fine. Let’s do things the hard way.”

He stalked toward her, and with a cry, she tossed the fire iron at him, then turned and attempted to flee once more. She didn’t make it more than four steps. Graham counted them. Then he slipped his arms around her slim waist and he lifted her easily from the ground.

Keira screamed, probably as loud and as long as she could, but her voice just echoed through the forest, bouncing back at her uselessly. She flung an elbow in the direction of Graham’s stomach, but the attack didn’t elicit more than a grunt. In a slick move, he flipped her around and pinned her to a large evergreen, then fixed his eyes on hers.

Keira continued to struggle, but Graham wasn’t even pretending to let her get away. She finally seemed to give in, and she stopped fighting. She slid to the ground, but he continued to hold her arms as he glared down at her. Her breath was coming in short gasps and her limbs were shaking.

On the ground, she looked small and fragile once more.

For a second, Graham felt guilty. He’d made himself responsible for her well-being. Taken her in to care for her. Yeah, she’d lashed out at him for some reason he couldn’t understand. But she was probably scared as hell and still shaken up. And maybe her hometown
was
just a coincidence after all.

Graham loosened his hold, just slightly. Then she attempted to twist away, and guilt evaporated. He squeezed her wrists together over her head, pressed a foot—as gently as he could while still being firm—into
her
feet and immobilized her.

“I’m done playing games,” he told her in a low voice.

She lifted her chin defiantly. “What are you going to do? Kill me?”

Her question hit him hard, square in the chest. She
did
know him. Or thought she did.

No coincidences.

“I’m not a murderer,” Graham replied coldly, and dropped her wrists. “And what I’m going to
do
is take you back inside. Where we’re going to eat breakfast like two normal adults. And where you’re going to tell me exactly what the hell you were doing up this mountain in the first place. Understood?”

She nodded meekly, and Graham had to shove down the reflexive regret at dampening the fire in her eyes.

You need answers
, he reminded himself.

He pulled back, and as he did, Keira tipped up her head. The new angle gave him a perfect view of her eyes, and Graham saw with relieved satisfaction that the fire—quite clearly—wasn’t extinguished. Just banked.