Bridal Falls Ranch Ransom (6 page)

“Do you miss it?” He considered her calm demeanor, but saw her fingers tremble as she locked her hands together in her lap for a moment before uncrossing her legs and scooting to the edge of the flat rock.

“Sometimes. It was a shallow existence, but I was a part of it for a while. The parties, the glamour hounds, the phenomenal connections. I started out sketching clothes I’d like to wear. Then one summer I spent it here with my dad getting over a case of exhaustion after a long bout with the flu while I was in Paris. A couple of rides out here to the falls alone, and I knew what I wanted to do.”

“Change up your life?”

“Yes.” Her head turned in the direction of the falls. “Something about the way the water flows from above and thins over the rocks had me seeing tulle and chiffon. Needless to say, I stopped strutting the catwalk and started sketching bridal gowns. With my connections in the fashion world, things took off from there. We grossed over seventy-five million last year.”

Caution worked through J.P. as he figured her net worth into the current situation. “It’s off subject, but don’t you find it odd that Thomas Avery’s kidnapper only demanded half a million dollars in ransom money?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah. It was a pittance for his life.”

“A sophisticated kidnapper does his homework. This guy didn’t, or his ransom demand would have reflected it.”

“You think he’s stupid?”

“I didn’t say that, but he’s more likely to make a mistake that’ll get us closer to finding out who he is before he tries to hurt—”

A bullet grazed the skin on J.P.’s left arm.

The sting was instant.

He half twisted, half fell toward Eve, hearing the distinctive crack of rifle report high on the ridge above them.

“Shots fired!” he yelled as he locked his arms around her and dragged her off her perch onto the narrow strip of earth between the rock and the pool.

A scream of protest gurgled in her throat, but she went limp in his arms. “Where?”

“On the ridge above us.” J.P. inched up for a look, trying to get a bead on the shooter’s location. Movement next to a tamarack tree in a bank of white pine caught his attention. A glint of sunlight against a shiny object, the flit of a blue shirt in a blaze of green foliage. He memorized the location using the tamarack as a landmark and slipped back down.

Round two ricocheted off the top of the rock in a glancing blow.

Eve’s sketch pad took the bullet, turned to confetti and spun off the rock in a shower of sharp gravel that pelted them like rain.

“We’re sitting ducks if we stay here!” J.P. said. The small meadow was void of trees and places to take cover. Only the shallow flat rock offered any kind of protection, but that wouldn’t last if the shooter flanked them. He eyed the falls and the massive outcropping of boulders where the water made landfall.

“The falls, Eve,” he said against her ear. “What’s behind the waterfall?”

“There’s a narrow opening on the left side between the rocks.”

If they could reach the rocks and climb in behind the falls, they’d be protected from the gunman. He could return fire if the sniper came within range. Right now, at this distance, his pistol was no match for a rifle.

Another bullet drilled into the ground inches from where their feet poked out from behind the rock.

Eve squealed and pulled her knees up.

“You’ve got to swim for it, Eve. Crawl in behind the falls. I’ll return fire, give you time to make it. Do you understand?”

She nodded, the veil of her hat bobbing in time with her answer.

“I’ve got six rounds and two reloads. I’ll squeeze them off a couple at a time. Stay under the surface. He’ll have a hard time getting a clear shot.”

He squeezed her hand. “Go.”

Eve’s heart slammed against her rib cage. She clawed for the water’s edge. Sucking a deep breath into her lungs, she slipped into the pool on her belly.

Pulling with her arms, she reached for depth. The force of the water floated her hat off her head.

Panic bit into her brain, robbing from her oxygen supply.

Turning back for the hat, she heard the first couple of rounds from J.P.’s gun resonate at the surface of the water.

She spotted the disguise suspended like a filmy jellyfish just within her grasp. She reached for it. It slipped through her fingers and floated farther away.

Another loud report fired from J.P.’s weapon.

Her lungs burned, on fire with uncomfortable jolts of tension, warnings that her air was short.

Drowning for a stupid disguise?

Still torn, she turned for the base of the falls and kicked as hard as she could in her cowboy boots. She reached the face of the outcropping below the waterline. Using it as a guide, she pulled herself up the rocks and broke the surface of the water.

Bam-bam.
Two rapid-fire rounds blasted from J.P.’s pistol just over her right shoulder.

Terrified, she squeezed through the opening and rolled onto the rough contours of the stone directly behind the falls. It was a place she knew well. A place she’d explored many times, but never with a sniper bearing down on her.

Sucking in one deep breath after another, she felt her heart rate slow before she pushed up onto her knees and crawled into the narrow space on the left side behind a massive bolder, careful to keep her head down in case the shooter fired into the cranny.

Counting the seconds, she prayed J.P. wouldn’t get hit by a bullet. She slicked the water out of her eyes with her hands, trying to catch a glimpse of him through the crystal sheet of water in front of her.

Movement at the water’s edge signaled his plunge into the pool.

Reaching up, she pressed her palm against the left side of her face. Wisps of horror intertwined with fear, and both conspired to rip her composure to shreds. If only she could erase the scars.

How would J.P. react? Would his assessment be as brutal as Thomas’s had been? Oh, he’d soothed her that day in the hospital when the bandages came off, told her she was still beautiful, still his, but she’d watched his dark eyes grow cold. Seen the thinly concealed flare of disgust in them whenever he’d dared to focus on her for more than a second instead of the clock on the wall, or the bed linens.

She closed her eyes against the onslaught she knew was coming. How would J.P. react when he finally got the chance to see what was left of her face? Worse yet, what would he really be thinking behind those incredible blue eyes?

Would she see revulsion darken them like black clouds over the sun, or—

She heard him exhale in a spray of water as he broke the surface and pulled himself through the narrow opening in the rocks.

Tension locked her in place. She braced for his appraisal. Every muscle in her body clamped tight until she knew she’d shatter.

Chapter Six

Thud.

Something slapped against her leg. Her eyes flew open in the misty confines of the rocky crag. Next to her on the stone lay the waterlogged remains of her hat and veil.

“I snagged it when I saw it. I thought you might need it.”

Without looking in his direction she snatched up the soggy disguise and pressed it to her face to block his view.

“Has he stopped shooting?” she asked, releasing the tension binding her body so tightly it threatened to crush her.

“He didn’t return fire after my last barrage. He’s gone, or planning to wait us out and pick us off when we resurface.”

Daring a look his direction, she caught sight of blood seeping from an open wound on his upper arm and soaking into the wet fabric of his white shirt.

“You’ve been shot!” Concern, like a dry towel, soaked up the puddle of trepidation she’d been rolling in.

In one quick motion, she tore the veil from the hat, wrapped it around his arm and tied it to stem the bleeding. “It looks like a graze. We’ll call Doc Morton as soon as we get back to the lodge—”

J.P.’s hand on her arm made her jump. She bit down on her words, trading them for her lower lip. Tears dammed in her ducts. He’d seen her face. He was assessing it now, making a judgment call against her, pulling back, turning away.

Eve swallowed hard, feeling the weight of self-loathing threatening to take her down again into a dark place she’d barely escaped from once. She couldn’t do it again.

“I’ll track down the bastards. And when I find them...” His voice was a low whisper, a threat that pulled her gaze to his in the magnetic connection pulsing between them, alive and heated.

He reached out for her.

She closed her eyes, trying not to flinch as he pressed his open palm against her face.

His touch was tender, therapeutic, bold. She opened the floodgates and released the tears, focusing on the feel of his skin against hers, ignoring the tangle of fear knotting her thoughts.

With painstaking care he smoothed his hand along her cheekbone and down her neck. Everywhere the fiery pipe bomb’s reach had found her once-flawless skin.

A shiver quaked through her. She opened her eyes and trained them on J.P.’s, searching the depths of his blue gaze for any sign of repugnance.

Mesmerized, J.P. let his fingertips glide over the contours of her scars. “Skin grafts?” he asked, marveling at the surgeon’s handiwork.

“From my back and stomach. The skin there is most like the tissues of the face.”

“How many surgeries?”

“Five, and I’ll need another one this fall, but there isn’t any more the doctors can do for me.”

Respect festered inside of him. She’d been to hell and made it out alive, still beautiful and healthy. Part seductress, part girl next door, all woman.

He stared into her eyes, seeing a shadow of doubt emanating from within. She was still gorgeous, and somehow he had to convince her of it.

“I admire your moxie, Eve. Not everyone could have come through a tragedy like that as well as you have.”

She flinched against his palm. A brief involuntary reaction to his summation. In that instant he realized the depth of her trauma, of the annihilation of her identity. Someone had to put Eve Brooks back together again on the inside as well as her surgeons had done on the outside.

“You’re alive, you’re here...and you’re beautiful.” He let his hand fall away from her face but maintained eye contact, hoping she’d accept the truth from him.

Defiance flickered in her eyes for a moment, then vanished. Her sensuous mouth pulled up into a sad smile. “I’ve heard that line before.”

He wanted to shake her. Make her see what he saw, but it was going to take time. “Thomas?”

“Yeah. The day the doctor removed my bandages. It’s a wonder he didn’t run screaming from the room.” Her smile faded, her gaze turning distant. A single tear made it onto her cheek. She brushed it away. “I know he wanted to.”

“Then he’s a fool.”

“He’s a realist, J.P., as am I. Smart enough to know my million-dollar looks disappeared in a matter of seconds next to that California highway. I’m not going to get them back. If I hadn’t bent over to pick up the earring I’d accidentally pulled off with the telephone receiver, I’d be dead. As dead as the Eve Brooks brand will be if anyone ever sees my face again. Why do you think I’ve worked so hard to keep it a secret?”

He hadn’t considered the impact this might have on her business. She was the face of Eve Brooks Bridal Couture. But he now knew the bomb had ripped away her veneer and exposed her vulnerabilities.

“You should have contacted the FBI. They would have run surveillance on the drop zone, maybe found the explosive device before you arrived.”

Anger shadowed her face. He watched it flare and manifest in the indignant set of her shoulders. Tension tightened her lips. “I wouldn’t have called them if they were the last ten people on earth. Their incompetence got my half sister Shelly murdered.”

“You didn’t tell me about this.”

“It happened three years ago in Brentwood.”

The blood drained from J.P.’s extremities in hot currents and pooled in his boots. He knew the case like he knew his own soul. He’d agonized over every gruesome detail, replayed every aspect in his nightmares, but he prayed the two cases weren’t one and the same. “What happened?”

“She was kidnapped on the way home from college. My mother and stepfather contacted the FBI immediately after the first ransom call. They did exactly what they were told to do.” Her voice faltered. “She still wound up dead and dumped outside their front gate like a sack of garbage.”

A muffled sob escaped from between her lips as she leaned toward him.

He wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry, Eve.” And he was. Sorrier this instant than the day he’d been running tactical command calling the shots in the Shelly McGinnis kidnapping, only to have the money drop go bad and the young woman wind up dead.

How in the hell had he walked straight into this buzz saw of fate? How was he ever going to extricate himself from it? Perplexed, he stared through the veil of water into the meadow, where the horses were still tied to the hitching post.

His insides twisted into knots as he tried to ignore the feel of the woman in his arms. He’d been honor bound to protect Eve Brooks the moment he took her case. Nothing had changed with her revelation, and it wouldn’t until he knew she was out of danger. Then he’d tell her the truth. He was responsible for her half sister’s death.

Raising his arm above Eve’s head, he looked at his watch. Forty-five minutes. They’d been hiding behind the falls for almost an hour, and the shooter still hadn’t approached their location. He took comfort in the fact, pulled Eve closer for a second, then released her.

“He should have been right on top of us by now, or untying the horses to prevent us from making a getaway.”

“You fired back. Maybe he decided it wasn’t worth dying for, whatever
it
is.”

Looking down into her upturned face, he fought the sudden urge to kiss her. “Until we know for sure he’s gone, you have to stay put.”

Her eyes widened in panic. “Can’t we wait longer? Maybe until dark?”

He considered her suggestion for two seconds, then focused his gaze on her. “It’s going to be okay, Eve. I’ll swim out, stay low and take cover behind the rock. If he’s still up there he’ll squeeze off a couple of rounds and try to hit me, but my guess is he took off when I returned fire.”

Blinking hard to beat back the tears burning in her eyes, Eve stared up at J.P. He was right. They had to leave the safety of the falls sometime. Better in daylight than darkness when the shooter could stalk them from the brush next to the trail, leaving them no chance to shoot back.

J.P. pulled his pistol from out of its holster and opened the cylinder. “You said your grandfather taught you to shoot. Do you think you can handle my .41?”

“Do bears live in the woods?”

A hint of a smile played over his sexy lips as he gazed at her with an intensity that made her toes curl inside her soggy cowboy boots.

“I only have six rounds left, so if you have to use them, use them wisely, and not until you see the whites of his eyes, understood?”

“Yes.” Burned by the seductive current sizzling between them, she looked down at the pistol in his hands and watched him eject the spent shell casings then finger new bullets into the cylinder.

“You got those wet. They won’t work.” Concern rode over her nerves.

“The casings are sealed. The gunpowder inside is dry. They’ll fire.”

Satisfied, she listened to the cylinder snap shut. It had been years since she’d handled a weapon, but she could do this. She could blast a hole in anyone trying to blast one in her, or J.P. for that matter.

“There isn’t much recoil with this .41 mag, so don’t flinch. Just aim and squeeze off the round.”

“Got it.” Reaching out she took the stainless pistol from him, feeling its weight in her hand before gently putting the gun down next to her.

“Be careful,” she said, reaching for him. She put her hand on his arm. The muscle in his forearm went hard under her touch.

“I always am.” He covered her hand with his. “Give me twenty minutes. I’m going to take off on foot to the location where he set up. I need to see if he left anything behind. Anything we can use to help identify him.”

Worry cloaked her emotions, but she knew he was right. “What then?”

“I’ll be back for you. Watch for me next to the rock. I’ll wave my arms, give you the all clear, then you can swim out to me.”

She could only nod, knowing if she opened her mouth to protest, the fear churning in her stomach would betray her calm exterior and she would dissolve in a heap.

“Twenty minutes.” She repeated the time frame, glanced at her watch long enough to pull herself together and then back up into J.P.’s eyes, seeing his intent in a blaze of blue sparks.

Like two magnets, they leaned toward each other.

A sigh moved up her throat as his lips found hers.

She closed her eyes, lost as a myriad of sensations burned through her reserve like a torch, deepening her need as desire ignited in her body. She was hungry for his touch. Desperate to feel his hands on her skin...desperate to feel like a woman again...desperate to feel....

J.P. broke the kiss and rocked back, stunned by the intensity. It pounded in his head and radiated through his body like a drug.

“Twenty minutes,” he half whispered, half shouted before slipping through the opening in the rocks and into the pool.

Digging with his hands, he reached for depth. What the hell had just happened? He’d kissed Eve Brooks. A mistake, granted, but the best-feeling mistake he’d made in a while.

A mistake he could never repeat.

Eve caved against a shiver and tried to relax the tension in possession of her muscles. Part cool and wet, part J.P.’s kiss, all beyond her control. Staring through the curtain of water, she watched the ripple of his body as he climbed out of the pool next to the rock. Listening, she held her breath, hoping she didn’t hear the sound of rifle fire.

Nothing.

Relief spread through her like liquid as she watched him dart to the edge of the clearing and blend with the trees.

She wouldn’t be satisfied until he returned unharmed...or until he kissed her again.

* * *

J.P.
worked his way up
the slope, ducking for cover every few yards to listen. A hawk screeched high overhead in a field of blue, where it soared on a thermal current. A squirrel chattered somewhere in the stand of timber, but things at ground level were still.

Moving another fifty feet, he tucked in next to a massive pine. He scanned the bank of trees where he’d seen the flash of blue. Nothing moved, but he had to be certain. Being unarmed could be fatal. Spotting a four-inch-thick chunk of tree limb on the ground, he picked it up, prepared to use it like a baseball bat if necessary.

Flanking the cluster of trees on his right, he circled around to make sure the shooter wasn’t dug in somewhere out of sight, waiting to mow him down in a surprise attack the moment he stuck his head out.

Clear.
Focusing his attention on the ground, he searched for anything that might offer a clue.

Pine needles, pinecones, tree moss and small twigs littered the soft soil under his boots. Looking up he gauged the distance to the pool, spotting the flat rock clearly from where he stood. He had to be on top of the sniper’s position.

Combing the forest floor with his gaze, he found what he’d hoped would be there and stepped closer. Going to his knees, he studied a single foot impression outlined in the dirt. Brushing it with his fingertips, he pulled away several pine needles. The shooter was wearing boots, judging by the pointed tip of the imprint.

Reaching over, he picked up a twig and put it alongside the track, then broke the stick off at the exact size of the boot the sniper had been wearing. Matching it to anyone on the ranch was going to be difficult, but it might help him eliminate any ranch hands who didn’t own a rifle.

J.P. pushed up onto his feet and stepped to the right of the footprint. A rifle ejected shell casings, sometimes feet away. It was pretty certain the sniper had picked up the empty casings, but he studied the ground, hoping to catch a break.

“Bingo,” he whispered, spotting a glint of brass nestled in a clump of bear grass three feet from the base of the tree trunk.

“Missed one, you SOB.” He stepped forward, bent down and picked up the bullet casing. Straightening, he held it up and rolled it between his fingers, gauging the caliber. .308. Today was his lucky day. They’d be one step closer to finding Eve’s tormenter if he could get a ballistics match. He shoved the casing into his pocket.

* * *

E
ve saw the sniper
dart out into the clearing in a streak of blue, muted by the looking-glass sheet of water separating them.

Terror enveloped her as she reached for the pistol next to her.

Had J.P. already encountered the sniper? Was he somewhere on the ridge, bleeding? Dying?