Love Inspired Suspense March 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Protection Detail\Hidden Agenda\Broken Silence (55 page)

Time to get things rolling.

* * *

Amber's eyes blinked open as the vehicle thumped and jostled over a small pothole.

Her brain was sluggish, her mouth dry. She swallowed, licked her lips and tried to get her bearings.

Twigs and branches crunched and snapped beneath the truck tires.

She tried to lift a hand to shield her eyes against the bright sunshine, but met resistance. Every platelet in her blood froze, her breath jamming in her throat. Her arms were bound behind her back, tied together with what felt like duct tape.

Adrenaline spiked, dispelling the last remnants of her unconscious state. She started to recall in horrifying detail the events of the past twenty-four hours.

Patrick had been shot. Tony wanted her dead.

Amber sucked back a sob and tried not to panic, sitting stock-still in her seat, fearful to make a sound, fearful of what Tony might do if he realized she was awake. From the corner of her eye she glimpsed him, his hands glued to the steering wheel, his neck craned as he squinted through the windshield.

Swallowing a lump of fear burning her throat, she shifted her eyes and followed his gaze. Trees came into her view, and more dense forest ahead. They were driving up an overgrown winding trail, not even a road. They were in the middle of nowhere!

Calm down, Amber.
She lifted a prayer. Tony had plans to take her somewhere. He obviously didn't want to kill her in his truck or she'd be dead already.

Too messy. Too much evidence.

She was grateful. That bought her some time. When the truck door opened, that would be her chance.

She felt a smidgen better to have a fighting chance, even though the chances of getting away didn't look promising. She lifted another prayer for God's grace and mercy.

A few minutes later, at the edge of the dense woods, the trail disappeared and as they entered into a small clearing her faint glow of hope extinguished as a red four-wheel-drive truck came into view. She recognized the man leaning against the front bumper, and her heart stalled in her chest.

Randall Becker. Tall, lean and significantly more muscular than she remembered. He was wearing a Coastal Karate dark gray hoodie and matching sweats. A day's worth of beard clung to his jaw, and his eyes, dark and narrowed, stayed fixed on Tony's truck as they pulled to a stop.

Finally the missing pieces of her case started to link together, but the grim reality of what her future held settled like lead in her stomach.

It may be too late.

EIGHTEEN

P
atrick sped down Highway 25 and then turned onto 170 heading toward Alligator Alley in the Savannah National Wildlife Refuge. This was where Amber's phone GPS locator device reported its approximate location. He only hoped her cell was in close proximity of her and that he wasn't too late.

He phoned Vance, huffing a sigh as he waited for him to pick up. What Patrick wouldn't give for a police radio or scanner.

Or a chance to have Amber back in his life—forever. The thought burned through him like wildfire. His heart swelled, no longer unable to deny the truth.

He loved Amber Talbot.

On the fourth ring Vance answered. “Patrick, you doing okay?”

“I'll feel better once I know Amber is safe.”

“Understood. What's your location?”

“I'm about three miles from entering the wildlife refuge. What about you?”

“Not far, either.” Vance's voice came back. “My ETA is about seven minutes.”

“Good. I'll keep you posted on my whereabouts.”

“Hold on. Before I let you go, I want to update you on something. I just got off the phone with dispatch, and the officer tailing Randall lost him about an hour ago.”

“Great.” Patrick's heart jumped to his throat. He jammed the gas pedal to the floor. “I'm heading in. I'll call when I know more.”

* * *

“Let's go, Amber,” Tony said brusquely as he yanked her by the arm, jerking her out the passenger-side door.

Before she even righted her stance, his grip bit into her arm as he dragged her around the front of his truck, directly across and several yards from where Randall stood.

Her heart dipped to her stomach. Tony, the one person who used to have the ability to calm her, now had her scared her to death.

Tension hung heavy in the air like a damp blanket as Amber waited for one of the two men to speak. The wind blowing through the field of tall grass and weeds ripped through her hair, letting stringy locks escape their bindings and slap around her face. She tossed her head, flicking hair from her eyes. She was afraid to miss anything.

“New vehicle?” Tony finally addressed Randall.

“Something like that.”

“Clever. Not bringing your own. Becker, I like the way you think.”

Randall didn't look amused. He lifted his square chin. “I'm not sure I like the way you think, Tony.” His voice was as taut as a tripwire.

“Really? Why is that, Randall?” Tony wrenched her in front of him, clenching his arm around her waist, crushing her back against his rib cage. Was he using her as a body shield in case Randall started shooting?

Not only was Tony a creep, but he was also a coward.

A grim smile twisted Randall's features and if that gave any indication to his intentions, Tony should be worried. And so was she.

Randall came off the truck and stepped forward, one hand never leaving his hoodie pocket. “You must think I'm stupid, Tony. I know why you called me out here today.”

Tony barked a laugh, a combination of humor and annoyance. “I need your help, Randall. And like it or not, you're in this with me.” He shifted a little, sank his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small gun. It was cold and hard as he held it against her back, hidden from Randall's view. She bit back a wince.

Randall snickered, then his dark eyes narrowed, became slits. “You need my help or a scapegoat?”

“Not sure what you're hinting at, Randall.”

Amber bit her lip. She tempered the urge to blurt out that Tony probably had the same plans for him as he did for her. Fortunately good sense prevailed. She doubted a shared status on Tony's hit list denoted allegiance from Randall.

Randall took another step, allowing her a good look at his cold, deadly stare. “I told you from the beginning, Tony, that I didn't want anything to do with this. Carl's paranoia. Carl's deal. You knew how amped up he was, but instead of calming him down, you handed him a bomb and then had him break into Amber's house. And what did it get him? A bullet in the head.”

“Carl was falling apart. He couldn't be trusted.”

Amber swallowed, unnerved by the story unraveling.

“Well, now the cops are on my tail. You bought in to his stupid theory and now look at you. Everything's blown up in your face.”

“Not true, Randall.” Tony laughed wholeheartedly this time. “I have a wonderful scenario all figured out, you see. I was abducted along with Amber and forced to drive to the middle of no-man's-land, where miraculously I was able to overpower the abductor and get away. However, I wasn't able to save poor Amber.”

Amber winced at the fabrication.

“Great story,
General.
” Randall's sarcastic tone emphasized the last word. “So why don't you tell me who this abductor of yours is?”

Tony let out a hollow laugh as he whipped his pistol out and fired at Randall. “You, my friend.”

Quick as lightning Randall spun and ducked. The shot burrowed into the windshield of the truck. A burst of spidery cracks splintered across it.

Randall's growl lit the air. As he raised his gun to fire back, Tony dived for cover. Amber took off in a sprint in the opposite direction, hopping over a log and running into the protection of the forest.

Gunfire exploded behind her. She dared one glance back, giving her a glimpse of Tony sprawled on the ground amid the tall grass and weeds. Randall stood beside him, his gaze whipping in every direction. Searching...for her.

Amber broke into a run, chest heaving, leaves and fallen branches crackling beneath her low-heeled shoes. Shoes not meant for hiking, much less running through the forest. She stumbled a few times, but managed to keep her footing and not fall on her face. She desperately wanted her hands free. If her footing did give way and she fell, she'd never get up. Never escape.

Randall's wild scream blended with the wind. His heavy footfalls followed her, branches and underbrush snapping beneath his feet. He was drawing closer, gaining on her.

Amber pushed forward, fighting off the terror exploding in her chest. Up ahead to the right, a steep incline came into view, and to the left was an open meadow. Exhausted and panting for breath, she was undecided for a few long seconds.

A shot rang out.

No longer concerned about escape, Amber arced to the left and entered the meadow. She needed a place to hide.

Outside of a handful of towering hardwoods, the clearing was hemmed in by a mixture of short spindly pines and scrub, more like overgrown bushes than forest. Amber plunged into the line of thick foliage and ducked beneath the canopy and into the silent shadows. She caught her breath.

Plodding footsteps grew closer, followed by an irate scream. “Amber, you can't hide forever!”

Planning to prove him wrong, Amber scrambled farther into the scrub, ignoring the barbs of thorns and briars piercing her skin. Frantically, she worked to tug her hands free. The tape wouldn't budge.

Her eyes burned as desperation filled her chest. Her hands were restrained. She had nowhere to run, and a madman with a gun was on her trail. And Patrick was laid up in the hospital. No one knew she was there.

Before she could blink it away, a fat tear plopped onto her cheek. No time for pity, she reminded herself. She needed to stay strong.

Amber took a deep a breath, both to work up courage and to hold in more tears. She had to get out of there. She couldn't bear the thought of never seeing Patrick again. That was motivation enough to keep her focused.

A branch snapped behind her as the footsteps drew nearer, slowly, purposefully. Randall was in the meadow now.

She held her breath. Waited.

The footsteps ground to a stop. She stayed low and craned her head, peering through a break in the screen of bushes. Randall's mud-splotched boots came into view. He stood only few feet away, just beyond her shelter of scrub brush.

For a full minute he stood there, stiff and unpredictable. She heard his coarse and heavy breathing.

A deep and chilling terror settled over her. This was it.

She held her breath.
Lord, help me.

Ten seconds more and Randall was on the move again.
Thank You, Lord.
She was safe for the moment. Almost limp with relief, she slumped against a massive hardwood, then jerked ramrod straight when something sharp dug into her back. Twisting around, she noticed a short piece of broken branch jutting out from the tree's thick trunk.

Struck by an inspiration, she got up on her knees and worked her duct-taped wrists against the broken branch stub. Seconds passed. The tape started to rip and her heart danced.

* * *

Five minutes into the wildlife refuge on a long stretch of road, Patrick was beginning to feel as though he was on a wild-goose chase. He was in the general area of the last location Amber's cell phone had registered. But there was no guarantee that she was still in the vicinity.

Frustrated, Patrick gritted his teeth a moment before he noticed deep furrowed tire tracks veering off to the left. Someone had turned down the service track that served as a repair road for a string of high-tension power lines. Rounding the bend, he traveled down the overgrown dirt path, which was heavily rutted, making the sedan's undercarriage bottom out on every pothole in the road. He'd probably owe hospital security a new vehicle after this escapade.

Up ahead he saw a clearing, and with a squint he made out the bed of red pickup. His gut told him it was worth taking a look. He dialed Vance and gave him his location, and then pulled to the side of the road a distance from the clearing and got out. Hopefully, whoever that truck belonged to hadn't heard him.

Several minutes later, Vance's car rolled to a stop behind him. Jumping out, Vance tossed him a walkie-talkie. Patrick caught it with his good hand. “Thanks.” He clipped it on his belt.

Vance slapped a pistol in his hand. “And you might be needing this. Loaded and ready.”

Patrick molded his fingers around the weapon. So was he.

Patrick and Vance took off in a run and sprinted the final length of the road. Patrick gritted his teeth against the bite of pain as his arm, still in a sling, bounced against his chest.

As they entered the clearing, he saw there were two vehicles. One was Tony's truck. The red pickup he didn't recognize.

They halted. “Police! Step out where we can see you, hands raised,” Vance shouted.

No reply.

Vance gestured for them to move in. They got halfway through the field when they noticed there was a man down. And it was Tony Hill.

Patrick rushed over to him. He was still alive, but bleeding from the gut.

He could hear Vance over his shoulder alerting the dispatcher, calling for a backup.

Squatting on his heels, Patrick looked into Tony's eyes. “Where's Amber?” he demanded. “Who has her?”

Tony gasped, searching for breath, his body shivering.

Patrick rubbed his shoulder. “Tony, I need you to hang in there. Can you tell me where Amber is?”

Tony swallowed hard, his gaze hollow. “Things got out of hand. I never wanted Amber hurt. Please believe me, Patrick. I...I had no choice,” he managed to admit through labored breaths.

Patrick's blood began to pump harder, his heart rate picking up as he took in Tony's pallid complexion, his shallow breaths. He could see Tony was fading. He wasn't going to last long. And only he knew where Amber was, or if she was even still alive.

“Vance, we need an ambulance. Now! And I need your coat!”

“They're on the way,” Vance grunted, rolling a log toward him. Patrick propped it under Tony's legs.

After Vance shed his jacket, Patrick scrunched it up and pressed it into Tony's gut, trying to slow the bleeding, trying to buy time.

“Tony, where is Amber?” Patrick asked a second time. “And who's she with? Is it Randall?”

“She ran,” he choked out. “Randall...went after her.”

Patrick exchanged an anxious glance with Vance.

Vance nodded and got on the radio requesting an ETA on backup and medics. Being in the boonies wasn't in their favor.

“Which way, Tony? Which direction did they head?”

Tony tried to say more, his lips moving slowly between shallow breaths. Patrick leaned closer to hear him. “What is it?”

This time when he opened his mouth, blood dribbled out. He gasped one last time, and then the shivering stopped.

Patrick felt for a pulse. The man was dead.

A grim feeling stabbed at him. Amber was somewhere in these woods, but where?

He needed to find her.

He jumped up, ignoring the electrified pain shooting through his shoulder. “Let's separate and search for Amber,” he shouted at Vance.

“We have an ETA of ten minutes.” Vance was right behind him. “With your injury, it might be better if we stick together.”

Ten minutes was too long. “I'm good.” Patrick confirmed with a nod. “I'm heading east.” They needed to move quickly, to cover as much territory as possible.

“I'll go west, then. Let's hustle.” Vance darted out of sight to the left, and Patrick drove in through the trees to the right. Bracing his injured arm with his other, pistol in hand, he bolted up a small ridge. He paused to take a breath, listening, his eyes searching. He scanned the trees, the layers of the forest.

He heard leaves rustling. Groaning trees. The insistent hum of insects. Besides a skittering squirrel, nothing moved, and he saw no suspicious shadows. Nothing.

He tucked the gun into his waistband and grabbed the walkie-talkie. “Vance, what do you see?”

In response he heard static, then... “Nothing so far. You?”

“Same. Let's keep moving.” Patrick clipped the radio to his belt. He glanced to his left and caught a metallic glint along the forest floor.

He went to investigate. Squatting, he picked up a silver hair clasp.
Amber's hair clasp.

A high-pitched male shout punctuated his discovery. Angry. Vile. It had to be Randall.