When She Wasn't Looking (3 page)

“Drop the radio on the ground and kick it to me.”

Rather than debate, he unclipped it from his shoulder and threw it at her feet. When she smashed her heel into the speaker and kicked the broken shell into the thick underbrush to her left, he winced.

“Was that necessary?”

“Yes. Now the gun,” she ordered.

No way was he giving up his weapon. Didn’t matter that he had another one at his ankle and a small knife at the ready in his back pocket. Getting disarmed by a hundred twenty pounds of lady trouble was not on his daily agenda. “I told you what would happen if I touched it.”

“I can’t trust you not to pull it on me in the car.”

“True.” He took a step toward her. “But I could have drawn numerous times during the last half hour and didn’t. I’ve decided to ride this out. Until you give me reason to think otherwise, I’m content to keep the gun in the holster.”

The seconds ticked by. With the rustle of branches and squawking of birds, the sounds of the forest surrounded them. Neither of them moved.

When the human silence threatened to blanket them, she opened the passenger-side door with a creak and put one foot inside. “Go around and get in, but keep those hands in the air.”

“I’m driving?”

“Unless you want to ride in the trunk.”

He followed her gaze to the back end of the car. He doubted he could get a leg in there. Next thing she’d suggest tying him to the roof.

He opened one hand. “Keys?”

She reached into her pants and pulled out a single key. “Thought you’d pick that option.”

“You mean you hoped I would.”

She threw the key. “That, too.”

Chapter Three

Courtney’s arms ached from holding the gun. The small car bounced as they drove over deep divots and through holes filled with yesterday’s rain.

The bumps vibrated through her. Her head whipped from side to side, and her body fell back against the seat. In an attempt to stay steady, she braced her foot on the floor and faced him. Her muscles burned as the weight of the metal in her hands sapped all her strength. So did the mind-numbing terror flowing through her at a speed that threatened to choke her.

She’d been on the run in one form or another since she was seventeen, so that part wasn’t new. Being found, having an armed police officer track her and even now be close enough to take her down, added a new layer of anxiety to her already convoluted life. After logging in hours at the shooting range, she knew how to use the gun, but pointing it at another human being, someone other than her intended target, turned out to be harder than she expected.

“What’s the plan here?” Jonas shifted his gaze between her and the old running trail they bumbled over on their getaway.

He’d been right about the tight fit. His hair brushed against the roof and his shoulders swallowed up his seat and part of hers. The way he doubled over the steering wheel only made his driving worse.

“I told you,” she said.

His handcuffs and baton rolled around at her feet where she’d thrown them minutes before, but his hands stayed on the wheel. “Right. The dump-the-guy-with-a-badge scheme.”

“Would you rather I shoot you?”

“There’s probably a middle ground.”

“If you say so.” She pointed. “Take the road to the left.”

He leaned in close enough to the front window to press his nose against the glass. “You see a road?”

“Right here!” Her teeth rattled as he hit the brakes and the car shuddered underneath her. She grabbed on to the back of the seat and saw his gaze bounce to her gun, which only made her hold it tighter. “The rangers use it for emergencies.”

“Guess that explains how you hid the car.”

“I moved it every few days to keep hikers from uncovering and reporting it. Many folks out here complain about the trash in the forest and organize groups to go out and pick it up. Imagine what they’d do about a car.”

“I’m impressed with your preplanning.” He exhaled. “Now tell me why you think it’s necessary.”

She guessed his goal was to throw her off, but the quick change in conversation didn’t work. She’d lived with her secrets and researched in the quiet darkness long enough not to lose control that easily.

When she didn’t immediately respond, he snapped a finger. “Any chance I could get an answer?”

“Evil.”

His gaze stayed on her for an extra second this time. “Is that a first or last name?”

“You think this is funny?”

His foot eased off the gas and they sputtered to a stop as he faced her. “No, Courtney. I think you’re in big trouble and it’s getting worse with every decision you make.”

“You don’t know anything about me or my life.”

“The way I see it you have two choices.”

She could only see one: hide until she figured out who killed her family and why.

She cleared her throat, trying to wipe out the debilitating emotion that always poured through her when she thought about them. “You’re going to go over this hill then cut to the left. And I mean fast. If you hesitate, we’ll hit a tree.”

“Good to know.” He hit the gas and the car chugged along the rough road.

Something in his light tone made her smile. “You won’t see it until—”

“What is that?”

She turned to see what had him swearing. “I don’t see—”

“Where did he come from?” Jonas’s hands tightened on the wheel. As he started shouting, his knuckles turned white.

She watched in horror as a truck with a huge front grill barreled right at them on her side of the car. It appeared out of nowhere, gobbling up branches and dragging them under its tires.

She sat down hard in the seat facing forward and dropped the gun to the floor. With her arms locked, she balanced her palms against the dashboard. “Move!”

“I see it.”

“He’s going to hit us.”

“Get down!” Jonas turned the wheel sharp to the left. The car bobbled as tires spun, kicking up mud and squealing in protest.

Just as the traction grabbed, the truck smashed into the back passenger side. Metal crunched as the doors crashed in and the roof buckled with an earsplitting thunk. Her body rocked in her seat until the belt dug deep into her skin.

Pain raced up her arm as she watched Jonas struggle to keep the car upright. Then the world spun around her. Her stomach rolled in time with the car when it turned over. She screamed until she lost her breath.

When the rocking stopped, she lifted her hands and they fell until they hung in front of her. The dashboard pressed up against her knees and her vision blurred, cutting in and out. Something clicked in her neck when she turned to look at Jonas. His eyes were closed with his arms bent underneath him. Blood covered his eye and ran along his forehead.

They were upside down.

His first name floated through her mind. “Jonas?”

She whispered through a scratchy throat just as footsteps thudded around her. She couldn’t make out the direction, but her stomach plummeted at the sound.

She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, a face popped up outside the broken window next to Jonas’s head. A scream raced through her but she swallowed it. “Who…who are you?”

The man with the blond military-cut hair and chin stubble smiled. Feral heat radiated off him. “It’s time to go.”

“Why?” She felt underneath her stomach for the abandoned gun. Stretching out her hands, she touched it but it danced off her fingertips.

The man smacked his hand against what used to be the bottom of the car. “You’re worth a lot of money, and I intend to collect.”

“I can’t move.” She looked at Jonas’s holster—empty—then her gaze skipped to his face. His eyes were open. Dark and furious he stared at her. She tried to read the look and decided he needed time. She focused on the attacker. “I think I’m injured.”

“You can slide out or I can come get you.”

The attacker’s words skidded across her nerves, leaving an icy trail in their wake. “Give me a second.”

In a blur, Jonas moved. He brought his gun up in a flowing arc. At the last second he lifted his head and shot right out the window without aiming. One second the attacker hovered there, leering. The next leaves rustled and red sprayed across the broken glass. The only sound was the lone beep as Jonas’s elbow hit the horn when his arm flopped back down.

The whole thing took a second but moved in a slow motion that played more like hours. She’d never been a big fan of the police, but she was grateful for Jonas.

“Is that guy dead?” she asked.

Jonas rubbed his head and came away with a hand stained with blood. “Hurt or not, I don’t miss from this range.”

“I guess that’s a yes.” The horror of death washed over her. The man, whoever he was, died because of her. “I can’t believe this.”

“Courtney.” Jonas’s husky voice broke through the screaming in her brain. “Are you okay?”

Her hands shook hard enough to bang against the dashboard. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s minor.”

She touched her fingers to his forehead and trembled against his skin as the haze settled over his eyes. “We have to get out of here. Can you move?”

Reaching down, he unclipped his seat belt and his body slumped closer to the ground. “I can’t make it out of this window at this angle. We need to rock.”

“What?”

“Try to tip the car on its side.” He shifted and his eyes closed.

“Jonas.”

His eyes popped back open. His forehead creased. He didn’t yell or complain, but the muscles in his cheeks tightened. “I’m okay.”

“I can get out.” She had no idea if that was true. The seat pinned her knees under her, and the numbness in her right shoulder had spread down to her fingertips.

“Any chance you have a phone?” he asked.

“No, and for the record I’m sorry I chucked your radio into the trees.”

His mouth kicked up on one side. “Makes two of us.”

“I can slip out—” She hissed when her weight shifted to her thigh and a string of pain ran down to her feet.

“Don’t move until we know what’s wrong with you.”

“We can’t stay here.”

“We won’t.” He used his elbow to knock out the rest of the window’s broken glass. With his upper body outside the car up to his armpit, he reached for something outside.

He let out a long, growling yell, then fell back against the steering wheel. His chest lifted on harsh breaths. With eyes closed and sweat streaking across his eyebrows, he locked his jaw and sat still.

She recognized pain when she saw it. “What are you—”

“I can do it.” This time he threw his body to the side, lifting farther out of his seat. His hand slapped against the ground before it disappeared. When he flopped back he had something in his hand and held it under her nose. “Here.”

She stared at the cell phone and realized Jonas picked it off the attacker. “How did you know he had one?”

“Lucky guess.” Jonas gasped between breaths. “At some point he’d have to be able to call the person paying him to grab you.”

“Smart.”

“I’m sure it’s a pay-as-you-go and won’t trace back to anyone, but at least we have it.”

“So, you believe me.” The words were heavy in her mouth, hard to say and even harder to accept.

“Call 911.”

She turned the phone over in her hands. The plan involved running, not hanging around to talk with the police. And if Jonas decided to file charges…

“Courtney.” Strength returned to his voice for that one word.

But common sense returned on a rush. She shook her head. “I have to leave first.”

“You’re hurt. Hell,
I’m
hurt.”

Guilt ate at her, but she ignored it. “You know I was telling the truth, that I can’t stay. Someone is after me.”

“Running isn’t the answer.”

“It’s worked so far.”

He leaned closer to her. “Call and we’ll figure out everything else later.”

“But I—”

“Just dial.” His head lolled to the side. “Please.”

She didn’t know if it was the pain in his voice or the pleading, but she gave in, threw all rational thought aside and pressed the buttons. On the second ring, she glanced over at him. The color had left his face and his hands opened and closed as if he were trying to keep the blood flowing.

“This is a mistake.” Courtney didn’t realize she’d said the words out loud until she heard them.

His rough laugh turned into a cough. “At least the day can’t get worse.”

But she knew better.

Chapter Four

Kurt Handler stared at the closed file on the edge of his desk. He didn’t have to open it. He knew every line contained in the four-inch-thick folder. No one else ever read through it or touched it. He carried the pages with him in his briefcase and in his head. The words haunted his nights and hovered over him during the day.

He spun his chair around and stared out the windows lining the wall behind his desk. He’d been watching over this part of Washington, D.C., his small corner of the world with the famous Watergate and Kennedy Center as his neighbors, for a decade.

He earned every square foot of the tenth-floor office space. He put in endless hours, ignoring his sons’ baseball games and wife’s pleas for more time at home, to focus on his commercial-real-estate business.

His job was to stockpile money and guarantee security for all four of them. Every time the market took a downturn, he adjusted. When his competitors struck, he hit back even harder. He owned huge portions of this city. In an area driven by power, he brokered more deals, negotiated more dollars, than any of the new-money business owners trying to muscle into his territory.

He’d survived and thrived, putting his kids through college and gifting them with trust funds that would ensure they’d never have to struggle or beg as he had. The idea he could lose it all because of the meddling of an ignorant girl made him furious.

She refused to accept the facts in front of her and move on. She insisted the police got it all wrong. She could ruin everything.

He waited for his associate in that craphole of a town in Oregon to check in. Kurt hated depending on someone else for help, but he had hired the best. And if he had to take care of the problem on his own this time, he would.