Love Inspired Suspense April 2015 #1 (28 page)

ELEVEN

Tuesday Night

R
ick's eyelashes fluttered as he fought to clear his vision and to wake up his mind. Moonlight slipped through the slats of the venetian blinds, projecting white stripes across his nana's patchwork quilt. He remembered arriving at the cabin and helping Stephanie unload the supplies. Then his coworkers Russ Miller and Jason King had shown up to help with security. Rick had known he could trust them to take over, so he'd crawled into this bed and crashed. He had no idea how much time had passed since then. He smacked his dry tongue against the roof of his mouth. He needed water. His stomach rumbled. And food.

Rick squinted at the red block numbers of the alarm clock. It read 9:00 p.m. His hand slapped around on the nightstand until his fingers found his cell phone. He held it above his head, grimacing away from the bright glare in the dark room.

He sat straight up. The time on the alarm clock was correct, but the date on the phone said he had slept longer than a few hours. He had slept all of the night before and through the following day. He hopped out of bed and jogged down the hallway to the living room in search of Stephanie and Axle.

He found Stephanie wrapped in a quilt, fast asleep, with Axle cuddled up next to her on the couch. A warm glow from the fireplace enhanced the cozy scene. Rick sighed, his concern melting away. It didn't look as if they had missed him too much. He may have failed as a bodyguard, but they both appeared to have survived just fine without him.

In the kitchen, he found Miller and apologized for sleeping through his guard duty shifts. Miller assured him that he and King had been fine.

“It's been uneventful,” he said, stifling a yawn. Rick still felt the guilt of shirking his duty. King had driven up a fifth wheel trailer for the two men to stay in, but he doubted they had gotten much downtime yet with Rick sleeping through his turn standing watch. From the look of boredom and fatigue on Miller's face, Rick could see the man was ready to be off duty.

“I need a quick shower and then I can take over,” Rick said. “I've had enough sleep to carry me through the night shift and then some.”

After showering and grabbing the two-way radio from Miller, Rick meandered back into the living room feeling refreshed. His sense of time was still disoriented, but the dizziness and pain from the concussion and the wound on his shoulder had lifted considerably. It felt good to be up and out of bed.

He sat, balancing on the back edge of the couch, and peered down at Stephanie. Her long blond eyelashes rested on her cheeks in peaceful sleep. She seemed to fit here in this simpler environment more than she did in the busy city. There was a rare sweetness to her that he liked. A desire to protect her beat inside him stronger than ever. Miller and King were good guys and great cops. He had left her in capable hands, but he didn't want her to be anyone else's responsibility.

When had keeping her safe shifted from being a favor for Terrell to being something he wanted to do for himself? Maybe it had happened when he heard her yelling for him in the hotel stairway after the bomb, or maybe it was when she held his hand and stayed with him in the hospital. All he knew was he had to do a better job of watching out for her now that he was awake and somewhat recovered.

He tucked a few stray curls behind one of her ears to get a clearer view of her face. She had such a fresh beauty. Her sun-kissed skin was flawless but for the few freckles that crossed her nose. At his touch, Stephanie turned her face into his hand. He cupped her cheek while his thumb gently ran across her eyebrow. He hadn't noticed before that her right eyebrow arched a bit higher than her left one, giving her a look of constant curiosity. Why would anyone want to hurt her?

“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” he whispered.

He absentmindedly played with the piping along the edge of the couch as he fought his desire to kiss her. He leaned down, his lips hovering above her face. He gently kissed the tip of her nose and popped back up to standing. What was he doing? Being in the cabin, a place of so many warm and secure memories, was messing with his brain and making him too relaxed.

There were several days left in the week he had promised Terrell. He didn't want to spend those days constantly fighting the temptation to kiss Stephanie. If he was going to succeed in keeping her safe, he needed to be able to focus. He walked to the fireplace, pretending to warm his hands. Anything to distract him from her lips.

Stephanie stretched and said in a sleepy voice, “You're awake.” She kicked off the quilt and joined him in front of the fire. Putting her hand on his elbow, she asked, “Feeling better?”

He jumped a little at her touch. Her face had a look of such sincere concern, he had to fight himself even more. “Much better, but I didn't mean to abandon you like that.”

She shrugged her right shoulder. “It wasn't a big deal. Your friends kept us safe. I was glad Julian left us alone long enough for you to get the rest you needed. Maybe we've finally found a good hiding place.”

Axle slid off the couch into a full body stretch on the floor, followed by a noisy yawn, and then weaseled his way between the two of them. “Axle and I have been fine, haven't we?” Stephanie said as she petted the top of Axle's head. When she stopped, Axle bumped her hand with his head, insisting that she keep up the petting. Stephanie obliged him, and asked Rick, “What breed is Axle?”

“He's a Belgian Malinois.” Talking about Axle always made him proud. “Malies are quick and smart. They make great police dogs.” He reached down to pet Axle, and as he did his fingers brushed against Stephanie's hand on Axle's back. Only their pinkies touched, but Rick could feel the contact down into his core. For a few beats, neither of them moved their hand away. The corners of Stephanie's mouth tipped up into a small, demure smile.

Rick was the first to move. He shoved his hands into his pockets, thankful that Axle acted as a barrier between him and Stephanie. Rocking back on his heels, Rick said. “I hope His Royal Highness hasn't been too demanding of you while I was out of it. He's looking a little spoiled to me.”

Stephanie continued massaging Axle's withers. “Nah. He's been a good boy. We've had fun. I called my school and checked in with my principal, and then I found the bookshelf.” She lifted up the half-read novel she held in her other hand. “I feel like I'm on a vacation.”

Warmth spread throughout him. He loved this place. It felt good to have someone else to share it with, someone who appreciated it and wasn't itching to get back to the city. He pointed at the crackling fire. “Did you do that?”

She looked sheepish. “It got chilly, and I found the firewood.” Her right eyebrow arched even higher. “Was that okay?”

Rick turned his back to the fire's warmth. “It's great. I'm impressed.”

She rewarded his compliment with a full smile that reached her eyes and made them dance in the firelight. The dim glow from the fireplace softened her already-beautiful features, the orange hues reflecting in her blue eyes and lighting up the red highlights in her hair. Rick stepped around Axle, and moved so close to her that only inches separated them. He breathed in her faint perfume. He was losing his resolve.

The same rebellious curls he had tucked behind her ear when she was sleeping had fallen forward again. He reached out for them, winding the silky strands around his finger. His breathing slowed, deepening further when Stephanie didn't pull away. She looked up at him, her mouth so close, all it would take was a decision and his lips would find hers.

He let go of her hair. “I think we better say good-night before I forget my job,” he whispered and then cleared his throat.

Stephanie placed her open palm on his chest. “Rick, I...”

“Trust me, I want to kiss you,” he interrupted her, backing away. “But it's complicated.”

She dropped her hand and blinked, the moment broken for both of them as reality came rushing in like cold air. “Yeah,
complicated
is a good word for me, too.”

She turned and walked toward the stairs that led up to the room she was using, leaving him alone by the fireplace. He planted his feet. He wanted to follow her, to pull her back into his arms and kiss her the way his brain was screaming for him to do, but it was Stephanie who returned to him. She stood so close, he could see himself reflected back in her eyes. Stephanie took both of his hands in hers. “Rick?”

He groaned inwardly. Her eyes were so blue.

“Yeah?” He ran his thumbs over the backs of her hands.

“Thank you. For everything. I don't know what I would have done.”

“It's okay.”

“No. I've been thinking about it all so much while you were sleeping. I don't know how I'm ever going to repay you for all of this. I am so grateful to be alive and safe and in this place. Thank you.” The sheen of grateful tears over her eyes made them look like tiny tide pools.

He weaved his fingers into her hair and pulled her close enough to kiss her forehead. Then he turned her by the shoulders away from him. “Now go to bed. You're killing me. You have no idea how beautiful you look in this light.”

She giggled. “Me? You should get a look at yourself.”

She began climbing the stairs, but before she reached the top, Rick made a decision and stopped her. “Stephanie?”

“Yes?” Her now-familiar arched eyebrow rose higher like an endearing question mark.

“Make sure you get lots of rest.” He grinned. “I think you've been cooped up long enough. Tomorrow you are going to learn how to shoot a gun.”

TWELVE

Wednesday

“R
eady to make some stuff blow up?” Rick teased her.

No.
Her insides wobbled like Jell-O. Stephanie had never touched a gun. Growing up on the rural eastern side of Washington State, she had gone to school with plenty of boys—and some girls, too—who drove trucks with gun racks. Many of them took two weeks off school every November to hunt elk. But living with just her sister and her mom, the only guns Stephanie had ever seen up close were on TV.

Rick unlocked his grandfather's oak gun cabinet and handed her a rifle. In her hands, it was lighter than it looked, but still cumbersome. She shifted it around, trying to figure out the right way to hold it.

“Whoa!” Rick ducked. Laughing, he said, “Give me that thing.”

Her face flushed. This was a very bad idea. She had no clue what she was doing holding a gun. She couldn't hand it back to him fast enough.

“Rule number one,” he said. “The gun is always loaded.”

Her eyes widened. “Is it loaded right now?” She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly very dry. The way she had been swinging that gun around, she could have fired it in the cabin by accident.

“Whether it is or isn't loaded doesn't matter. You treat it as if the gun is always loaded, and you don't point it at anything, or
anyone
, that you don't intend to shoot.” He tried to put it back in her hands, but she shook her head. He wouldn't take no for an answer, though, pushing it back into her grip. “The safety is on, and just to make you feel better, it is not loaded at the moment.”

She scrambled for more excuses to postpone the shooting lesson. “But is it safe for me to be outside?”

“We are so remote up here and we haven't heard from Julian in two days—we'll be fine. We're well hidden, but to be on the safe side, Miller just did a sweep of the area where I'm taking you, and he and King are going to patrol the road. We're going to be just fine.”

Axle pushed past them and out the cabin door. He flew off the porch in hot pursuit of a chipmunk. Rick and Stephanie followed him into the sunshine. A sharp bite in the air and the visible puffs of their breath showed that winter was still clinging on at this elevation, but on this bright morning, spring popped up everywhere. Patches of green peeked through the residual snow and although it was chilly, bright sunshine claimed the blue sky, proclaiming hope. They couldn't have asked for a prettier day to spend outside. It was the perfect cure for the cabin fever she had been feeling. Stephanie inhaled the crisp air through her nose, and exhaled a prayer.
Thank You that I'm alive to see this beauty.

She jogged to catch up with Rick, careful to point the gun she carried down and away as he had instructed her. Axle reveled in his freedom, bolting ahead of them, chasing more chipmunks and barking at birds. Rick carried a blanket, the ammunition they would need, two pistols and a picnic lunch they had packed.

If it weren't for the scary guns and bullets part, Stephanie might enjoy the romance of this whole excursion. Flashbacks of the night before and the almost-kiss in front of the fireplace made her blush. It was a good thing Rick had been thinking logically, because she sure hadn't been, and given another chance she wasn't sure she would have resisted.

The river's edge was covered with loose rock. It was peaceful and remote, but not quiet. They had to raise their voices to hear each other over the roar of the bulging river as it carried down snowmelt. The highway ran high above the opposite bank. It was pretty far away, but the sounds of semi trucks and cars rounding the corner echoed off the cliffs near them, making it feel closer. It was the same highway she and Rick had driven only two days ago to get to the cabin. It had been such a peaceful two days it had almost slipped her mind why they were there, forgetting for a bit that her life was still in danger and this was not a vacation.

“There's a cut bank up here that will be perfect for setting up the targets,” Rick called back to her. The little-boy grin on his face made her happy. “It's the same place I learned to shoot a gun.” There was a skip in Rick's step she hadn't seen before. How fun would it have been to grow up coming to a place like this? It was kid paradise.

They stepped high over a sun-bleached log before Rick stopped and set down the cooler. He spread out the blanket, then knelt down to line up the boxes of ammo and the two pistols. He reached up for her rifle. Stephanie handed it to him, trying to appear brave. Had she fooled him or could he read her thoughts of
scared, scared, scared
?

He squinted up at her. “Lunch or lessons first?”

Stephanie chewed her bottom lip. “Better do the lessons first.” Her stomach ached from nerves, and her throat was so dry she couldn't swallow. She should have thought to grab a water bottle from the cabin before they left.
I don't want to do this.

Rick lined the targets up against a sheer cliff the rushing water had worn away over the years. He talked while he worked. “So, when I was in your apartment, I noticed a lot of African decor. Have you been to Africa?” She knew he was trying small talk in order to ease her nerves. So she hadn't hidden her fear very well after all. His attempts to calm her were sweet.

“I've been to Liberia several times, actually.” Stephanie was surprised by the emotion that hit her thinking about her love for the country. “My younger sister and her husband are missionaries there, and my plan is to join them as soon as I can afford it.”

“Really?” He turned away from the targets and walked back to the blanket. He seemed genuinely taken aback; then again, how many girls could he possibly know who were planning to run off to West Africa?
Probably just one.

“Will you teach there?” he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I'm not sure. It's all so unsettled. My dream is to work with orphans, but I'm not exactly sure how to finance it all yet.” Talking about Liberia reminded her that running from Julian wasn't the only part of her life in limbo. “To be honest, it's kind of driving me crazy,” she admitted. “I keep waiting for the big neon sign, you know? The one that says God's Will Is This Way.”

She hung her head. “I only know I need to do something more meaningful than what I'm doing now. I want to make God happy, but He isn't talking yet and all of the doors are still shut.”

Rick was quiet for a moment. She wished she could read his thoughts. “I'm sure your students would say your job is pretty meaningful,” he said. “My fifth-grade teacher got me through my parents' divorce.” Then he dropped the subject and picked up one of the handguns off the blanket. “Well, Miss Future Missionary, are you ready to learn how to shoot this thing?”

“Ready,” she lied.

“I know you aren't thrilled about this, but once you get familiar with shooting it won't seem so scary. After you hit a few targets, you might even start to have fun.” He turned the gun over in his hand. “This .45 will be a good one to start with.”

Stephanie eyeballed the gun in his hand as if it were another bomb about to explode. “Tell me again why I need to do this? Even if I know how to shoot it, that doesn't mean I could ever actually shoot someone.”

“Even someone bent on killing you or threatening someone you love?”

“I don't know. It isn't a moral dilemma I've wrestled much with before now.” She didn't like the way that question made her squirm.

“What if Julian was about to harm Joash or Haddie?”

She didn't answer so he went on. “I keep thinking about the other night at the Watkinses' place. I keep seeing the kids sliding around the kitchen in their socks and how excited they were about eating their dessert in the living room.” Rick's forehead scrunched up with emotion. Stephanie replayed the scene in her own mind as he spoke, her stomach twisting.

Rick stared at the gun in his hands. “Julian Hale lit a house on fire that he knew had innocent women and kids inside...” Rick looked into her eyes and said, “This guy is serious, Stephanie.” He held up the gun in his hand. “It makes me sick thinking that he might hurt you. I need to know you can defend yourself.”

When she nodded, he began, “Okay, lesson number one review... The gun is always loaded...”

* * *

Her stomach was Jell-O again, and her hands felt unnaturally light. Rick taught her how to slap in the magazine and how to chamber the bullet, then the gun was all hers. His arms encircled her from behind, showing her how to hold the gun properly. “Remember.” His mouth was so close she felt the air skim her ear as he spoke, but with the orange foam earplugs in, he had to shout for her to hear him. “Finger off the trigger until you are ready to shoot.”

She held the pistol straight out in front of her. Rick's hands gripped her waist. “Relax. Bend your knees. Lean in to it.” She tried to remember all of the instructions he had rattled off about the different stances, the breathing, squeezing versus pulling the trigger, not trying to anticipate the noise.

Rick pointed at the orange disks sitting in metal stands against the cut bank. They looked like the bottoms of flower pots. “Line up your sights on the target. Good.” He leaned with her, talking her through the steps. “Okay. As soon as you're ready, go ahead.” He let go of her and stepped away.

“Wait. I'm not ready.”

“Once you blow up one of those targets you'll be hooked.” He crossed his arms and waited for her to squeeze the trigger.
Squeeze, not pull.
She remembered that much.
Or was it the other way around?

“Any day now, Stephanie,” Rick teased. “It's nothing more than target practice. Bend your knees. Don't try to anticipate the—”

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

All five of the targets exploded, one after the other, orange fragments flying through the air.

“Whoa!” Rick was flabbergasted. His hands flew to the top of his head. He hopped around in excitement. “I can't believe it. You hit every one of them.”

Stephanie still held her arms up, frozen in place. Then suddenly she fell prone in the dirt and screamed, “Rick, get down.”

He knelt beside her and asked, “Did you faint? That can happen...”

“Rick, get down!” She popped up and tackled him to the ground. She looked down into his confused face. “I never pulled the trigger.”

* * *

Bullets peppered the ground, preventing him from standing. Rick pushed Stephanie off him and grabbed the gun she still clutched in her hand. The shots came from somewhere behind them, on the other side of the river.

Rick rolled and fired, searching for cover. They were too exposed by the river, but the tree line was too far to run without getting shot. He spotted the log they had climbed over earlier. It was small, but some cover was better than none. “Follow me,” he shouted to her. Grabbing her hand, they bolted for the log.

Only a few paces away, the ground in front of the log exploded with rapid bullets splaying rocks, knocking them to the ground for the second time. Rick landed on top of Stephanie, shielding her body from the raining lead. “You're okay, Steph. Hang on,” he shouted into her ear.

Lord, save us.
Rick was praying for the first time in too long. It was true, the old saying about remembering God in foxholes. His prayer life had been nonexistent lately.
I've been trying to fix this whole mess on my own, trying to keep Stephanie and everyone else safe in my own strength.
A bullet hit to his left, spraying gravel into his eyes. Stephanie coughed underneath him.

You could hit us if you wanted to. Where are you, Hale?

Cliffs and plateaus surrounded the river on both sides, providing a number of perfect hiding spots for a sniper. The highway traffic masked the noise, and the shooter had the perfect vantage point to see their defenseless position below. They were sitting ducks. With the right scope and a regular hunting rifle, even an average shot could pick them off from three to four hundred yards away. It had to be Julian Hale. Wherever he was hiding, it was far enough to remain unseen, but close enough to completely destroy their targets with perfect aim.

Stephanie whimpered at each
ping
of a bullet
.
Rick winced, expecting pain.

Rick returned fire, shooting blind. His bullets sprayed rocks less than one hundred yards away. He couldn't risk hitting a car on the highway. As he continued firing and praying for their safety, the bullets hit close but never struck them.

“He's playing games with us again,” he yelled, hoping to somehow reassure Stephanie.

Then as quickly as they had begun falling, the bullets completely stopped. Rick counted ten seconds. Did he dare move? His body weight was surely crushing Stephanie underneath him.

Rick army-crawled to the blanket and grabbed the rifle, then crawled back to where Stephanie lay on the ground. He pulled the two-way radio off his belt and called for help.

Miller's voice crackled. “We're on the highway. We'll find him.”

No more shots fired.

“Leave everything and run for the trees,” Rick told Stephanie. “Stay low and get inside the cabin.

“I'm right behind you all the way, okay? I'll be firing the gun to cover us. You do not stop. No matter what you think is happening behind you, you do not stop until you are safe inside. Understand?”

Stephanie's pupils dominated her irises, but she scrambled up and began to run. Rick moved to follow after her, but in his peripheral vision he spotted movement. A blur of brown fur burst from the tree line farther down the river.

“Axle,
bleib
!
Bleib!
” Rick screamed the command for
stay
over and over and over again, but the dog either couldn't hear him or simply refused to obey.

* * *

Lord, help,
Stephanie
prayed. She couldn't find any other words to string together. That would have to be enough.