A Deadly Love (33 page)
She plunged into the thick woods, pushing aside tree limbs, forcing her way through bushes. A branch snapped against her face, and she cried out, feeling blood ooze between her fingers from a gash on her cheek. She wiped her hand on her nightgown and ran forward blindly in the darkness. Surely she was nearing Jesse’s cabin. If she yelled he might hear her. But so might Elliot. Whimpering softly, she smacked full force into a stand of dwarf maple. The impact knocked her on her butt. Her head spun.
It took precious minutes to steady her legs enough to stand. Tears ran down her face as she moved forward more cautiously this time. Behind her a twig snapped. She spun, striking out with all her might. An arm wrapped around her chest, held her as she kicked and squirmed.
“Gotcha,” a voice whispered in her ear. “You were close, Brooke, but not close enough. A fine effort.”
She screamed, loud and shrill, before a hand clamped over her mouth. “Ah, ah, ah, no fair yelling. We aren’t alone, more’s the pity.” He shoved a handkerchief in her mouth and bound her wrists. Kicking with all her might, she connected with his shins. “Damn it, stop fighting me!” Shoving her to the ground, he sat on her and tied her ankles.
It was all Brooke could do to breathe. Spots danced in front of her eyes as she tried to draw air into her burning lungs. Climbing off her, he threw her over his shoulder and plunged through the ferns, muttering and panting as he went.
“Stephanie was a piece of cake to catch, but you didn’t make it easy.”
She froze, and the fight drained out of her. He’d found Steph. Squeezing her eyes shut, she blinked back tears. Maybe they should have stayed together. Maybe if they’d gone on the attack instead of running away, they could have overpowered him somehow.
It’s too late for what ifs.
As she bounced against his backpack, she prayed he hadn’t had time to kill Stephanie. Hope, however slim, that her friend was still alive kept her sane.
His steps slowed, and his breathing became more labored. Carrying her was taking a physical toll. Time was on her side now. She pictured Dillon searching the forest for her, his face set in hard lines of determination. He wouldn’t give up looking until he found her, and Elliot had said they weren’t alone...
With a hard kick of her legs, she jammed her knees into his chest. His grip loosened, and she toppled to the ground, knocking the wind out of her.
“Damn it, Brooke, don’t make me chloroform you. I want to look into your eyes when I take back the piece of my heart that’s deep inside you. If you keep fighting me, you’re going to ruin it!”
She lay perfectly still. Unconscious she was as good as dead.
“Are you going to cooperate?” She gave an abrupt nod, and he smiled, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight. “I thought you’d see it my way.” Grunting, he heaved her onto his shoulder. “We’re almost there. Not much farther, now.”
It seemed an eternity until he lowered her to the ground. Pressing her fists against the soft, damp earth, she pushed herself to a sitting position—and saw Stephanie. Relief so intense it was painful surged through her. Gagged and bound, her friend strained against ropes binding her to a giant redwood, clearly very much alive.
“Up you go.” Grabbing her arm, he swung her to her feet and dragged her across a bed of moss to a second tree. “You can face each other if you like.”
Brooke stared into Stephanie’s terrified eyes while he lashed her to the tree, knowing she should be petrified. She wasn’t. Nothing seemed real, not the rope cutting into her chest, not the knife in Elliot’s hand, shining in the starlight. It was all some kind of sick, twisted dream.
Clouds drifted past the moon in a game of hide and seek, casting an ethereal beauty over the forest. Surely these weren’t her last minutes on earth. She couldn’t believe it was the end, not when she had so much to live for. Not when she and Dillon were finally finding their way to each other. He would save them. Deep in her heart, which pounded frantically in her chest, she knew it was true. Knew it with every fiber of her being.
A dark shape launched from the forest, knocking Elliot to the ground, sending the knife flying. He screamed, a high pitched shriek that sent a shiver down her spine, and rolled into a ball, covering his head with his arms. The dog stood over him, barking uproariously.
Otis.
Her knees gave out, and she sagged against the ropes as two men burst from the woods. Dillon ran straight to her and pulled the gag from her mouth. Coughing, choking on her own tears, she smiled.
“Oh, God, Brooke, I was so afraid I wouldn’t reach you in time.” His voice was hoarse. In the moonlight, his eyes were bright with unshed tears. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head. “I knew you’d come. I knew you’d save us both.”
“You can thank your dog for that. Without him—” He broke off and let out a long breath as he worked on the knotted ropes. “I don’t want to think about it.”
Otis pressed against her legs and whined. When Dillon freed one of her hands, she buried it in the dog’s fur. “And people think he’s more trouble than he’s worth,” she said with a shaky laugh.
Shouts came from the woods as more people ran into the clearing. Someone went to Stephanie, while the others converged on Elliot. Over Dillon’s shoulder, Brooke saw him reach up and grab hold of the shotgun Jesse had trained on him. She opened her mouth to scream as a deafening blast echoed through the forest.
Elliot lay on the ground, his blood soaking into the fir needles, a dark stain on the forest floor. She closed her eyes as the last of the ropes fell away, and Dillon pulled her into his arms. Burying her face against his chest, she finally let go of her fear. Shaking uncontrollably, tears ran down her face. Dillon scooped her into his arms and carried her away from the carnage. Clinging to the man she loved, Brooke never looked back.
****
Early morning light filtered through the curtains, falling across the bed in patches. It wasn’t raining, surely a good omen. Brooke stretched, her foot sliding along Dillon’s leg. She snuggled closer to the furnace-like warmth of his body and felt his arm tighten around her waist. Glancing up, she saw that he still slept, his lips open slightly, his breathing deep and even.
When they’d arrived home in the early hours of the morning, after Carter dressed the cut on her cheek and she gave the FBI a brief accounting of her imprisonment, Dillon followed her straight to her room. The need to hold each other was so great, nothing else mattered. Not that her grandmother minded. Brooke smiled, remembering the sparkle in her eyes as she shooed them off to bed. When June finally stopped clinging and crying and thanking the good Lord for her granddaughter’s safe return, she promised to keep Zack occupied all morning and field her parents’ questions when they arrived.
On the rug beside the bed, Otis’s tail thumped. Relaxing against the firm mattress and smooth sheets, she dangled her hand over the edge of the bed to pet him. Tension drained from her. It was over. She and Stephanie were safe, and except for a few cuts and bruises, unharmed. At least physically. The emotional wounds might take longer to heal, especially for Steph, who’d had to endure their ordeal for so much longer. But she was home now with Rod and her kids. Thinking about it brought tears to Brooke’s eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Dillon’s voice was gruff. Gently, he wiped the dampness from her cheeks.
She smiled into his sleepy gaze and rested her cheek on his chest, loving the feel of his hand stroking her hair. “Nothing. I was thinking about Steph, remembering my relief when I knew she was still alive.”
“It can’t be much compared to the way I felt when I saw you tied to that tree.” His whole body shook as he let out a long breath. “I saw blood on your face, and for a moment my heart stopped. When I realized that bastard hadn’t had time to—” He broke off and swallowed, his arms tightening around her. “I nearly collapsed.”
She rubbed her hand across the sprinkling of hair on his chest and listened to the slow beat of his heart. “I can’t help thinking about Caroline, the agony she must be living through.” Reaching up, she swiped at a tear. “She planned the rest of her life around Elliot, around her love for him.”
His hand on her hair stilled. “The man she loved didn’t exist.” He resumed his rhythmic stroking. “It’s probably better for her that he ended his own life, pulling the trigger of Jesse’s gun. Knowing he was locked up in a cell, enduring the ordeal of a trial after everything he did, would have been worse than dealing with her grief and somehow moving on.”
“She’ll have the support of her friends. The way I see it, Caroline was as much a victim of Elliot’s deception as the rest of us.” She frowned. “He was sick, had been for years. I think if the police look into his childhood, they’ll find he was abused by his foster parents.”
Dillon rolled onto his side and raised her chin, looking deep into her eyes. “I can’t work up much sympathy for Elliot, no matter what caused him to snap. If he’d hurt you...” He stroked the bandage on her cheek with his thumb and dropped a kiss on her lips. “I don’t think I can live without you, Brooke.”
The emotion in his eyes filled her so full of hope and love, she thought she might burst. “You don’t have to.” Cupping his face in her hands, she stared into his eyes, seeing each individual fleck of green in the gold. “But I need to be sure this isn’t just a reaction to your fear. I need to know it will last once life is back to normal.”
A smile spread across his face. “I don’t mind spending the next few decades proving how much I love you.” He kissed her again.
Desire shimmered through her, a slow lick of flame along her nerve endings.
“I do love you, Brooke. I did long before Elliot took you from me, but I was too stubborn to admit it, even to myself. I should have known all along that love and commitment don’t make life more complicated. They lend support and make it easier to handle problems.” He squeezed her. “Not to mention a hell of a lot more fun.”
“Are you going to love me when I’m in a bad mood and snap at you for leaving your socks on the floor, when Otis digs up every plant in your yard, when I ground your son for coloring pictures on the walls?”
His eyebrow shot up. “That’s the best you can come up with? Are you going to love me when I track mud through the house and ask why dinner isn’t ready yet? Are you going to love me when I can’t take you out to dinner for our anniversary because Zack is in a school play or has a baseball game?”
She let the words sink in, fill her with warmth. “Our anniversary?”
“You bet.” He kissed her, nipping her bottom lip with his teeth, stroking into her mouth with his tongue, teasing her until she was dying for more. He lifted his head and met her gaze. “Anniversaries are what people have when they’re married. Will you marry me, Brooke? I want to make love to you every night and wake up next to you every morning. I want you by my side through good days and bad. I want you to help me raise my son and be the mother of a half dozen more just like him.”
Tears ran down her cheeks, and her smile shook. “I love you, Dillon.” Reaching up with a trembling hand, she brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. “Yes, I’ll marry you, but we’ll have to talk about the half dozen kids.”
“I’m willing to negotiate.”
Laughing, she kissed him back and rolled with him in the tangled sheets. “In that case, let’s get started.”
Write about what you know. Jannine Gallant has taken this advice to heart, creating characters from small towns and plots that unfold in the great outdoors. She grew up in a tiny Northern California town and currently lives in beautiful Lake Tahoe with her husband and two daughters. When she isn’t busy writing or being a full time mom, Jannine hikes and snowshoes in the woods around her home. Whether she’s writing contemporary, historical, or romantic suspense, Jannine brings the beauty of nature to her stories.
To find out more about Jannine and her books, visit her website at www.JannineGallant.com.
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More Titles from Jannine Gallant
and The Wild Rose Press
Victim of Desire
Lonely Road to You
After All These Years
Maybe This Time
Nothing But Trouble
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