Hunted, A Romantic Suspence Novel (9 page)

Even though he knew the depth of her indoctrination by Strict’s militia, Frank didn’t believe she was behind the bombing last night. All she wanted was to live a quiet, peaceful life. She’d talked about nothing else during the meetings they’d had over the past decade.

Had someone followed him to one of those meetings? Is that how they’d discovered who she was now and where she lived? He wracked his brain for the last time he’d met with her. Nearly a year and a half had passed since he’d contacted Katie. He doubted Strict’s people would sit on the information for that long without acting.

Why now? With Strict’s execution in less than a week, why try to kill Katie now?

Until Katie contacted him again, trying to find her would be like looking for a grain of salt in a sand pile. His hands were tied until—or if—she called again. His only option now was to attack the other problem facing him.

Who in the department had leaked her new ID?

Her file was sealed from all but the highest security clearance. He and his partner Pete Halloran had buried her identity as deep as they could.

Pete. He was the only agent with first-hand knowledge of Katie’s new life.

Three years ago Pete retired to live in a cabin in the Northeast portion of the state. He’d wanted to spend his time fishing in the summer and hunting in the winter.

Pete couldn’t have done this.

He knew Pete like a father. From the first day of their partnership Pete had led him through the ropes and given him the benefits of his years of experience with the Marshals.

But did anyone really know every detail of another person’s life? Was there something the man had kept hidden from him? Something someone could use to find Katie? Had someone gotten to Pete?

Castello locked the report in his desk’s bottom drawer for safekeeping. Later he’d compare it to other reports of car bombings by the militia. He typed a note for his secretary Leslie, letting her know he’d be out of the office the next day. He knew she’d pick up his e-mail and forward any messages to him, especially anything from Katie.

He looked at the late afternoon light. Neither he nor Pete ever celebrated the holiday with family. On Christmas Day traffic wouldn’t be a problem. If he left now, he’d get to the cabin before dark.

It was time for him to go visit an old friend.

* * * * *

 With Katie’s inert body sprawled across him, Matt lay stunned on the concrete sidewalk outside his townhouse, staring through the giant hole in his door.

What the hell had happened?

A shotgun, tied to one of his kitchen chairs, smoke billowing from the barrel, pointed directly at the door. A nylon rope extended from the trigger to the ceiling through an eyebolt someone had screwed in place, and to the door’s top.

Katie had pushed him out of the line of fire.

“Katie?” She didn’t move.

Visions of another inert female body lying over him flashed through his mind. Chris had lost control on the wet road and smashed into a tree. She’d landed on top of him on the passenger’s side. At fifteen her life had ended, and Matt’s nightmares had begun.

Fighting the panic, he gently shook Katie’s shoulders. She didn’t move. His hand slid up to her throat. The rapid pulse in her neck beat against his hand.

Relief surged through him.

He ran his hand over her shoulders and back, then across her hips. A sticky wetness met his touch on her thigh.

Easing himself from beneath her, he tried to see her injury in the glow from the streetlight. It was impossible in the near dark. Gently, he lifted her into his arms. A soft moan escaped her as he carried her into his apartment. Careful not to disturb the shotgun and its rigging, he carried her to his couch and stretched her out on her non-injured side. Then he flicked on the light.

Damn.
A piece of wood two inches thick stuck up out of her thigh at a forty-five degree angle. Nearly five inches long from the outside of her jeans to the end, how much was on the inside?

Matt considered how to get the piece of wood out of Katie’s leg. The bleeding had to be stopped. He opened his Swiss army knife, holding it poised over her thigh as he considered his options.

“Don’t...cut my...jeans.”

Katie’s soft whisper startled him.

He lowered the knife and brushed her dark hair off her face. “Katie, we’ve got to get that chunk of wood out of your leg. You’re bleeding pretty good around it.”

“Take them off. I only have one pair.”

“Sweetheart, they’re ruined already. If I try to pull them over that wood they’re gonna rip even more.”

“Just pull it out. Then I’ll take them off.” Her hand lay on top of his, her eyes watery with her pain. “Please?”

He stared into her eyes for a moment. “You’re sure?”

Releasing his hand, she gripped the sides of his couch, her knuckles blanching white. “Just do it quick.”

For the first time since he’d met her, her eyes held a complete look of trust in them.
Damn, I’m going to hurt her, and now she trusts me?

Gripping the door fragment in one hand, he broke eye-contact with her and braced his other hand on her soft rounded hip. The metallic smell of blood deluged his senses, gagging him momentarily. He fought off the sickening smell then pulled hard on the wood. At first it didn’t seem to budge, then a tearing sensation started and the wooden stake ripped loose.

Fighting his own dizziness, Matt looked at Katie’s pale face. Not a sound came from her, although she breathed in fast, shallow pants.

He swore under his breath. Grasping her face between his hands, he kissed her forehead and eyes. “I’m so sorry, Katie.”

“Towel.” The one word sounded like a whispered croak.

The spot of dark red on her jeans was spreading.

With a muttered curse, Matt hurried to his bathroom for a towel. Pulling his cell phone out of his coat pocket, he dialed 911. Katie wasn’t going to be happy with him, but he needed help. The last time he hadn’t followed the rules a young girl had died. He wouldn’t let that happen again.

After reporting the attack to the local police and requesting an ambulance, he returned. Katie stood beside the couch, trying to step out of her jeans. She wobbled with the effort. Grasping her by the arms, he caught her before she fell.

“I’ve got you.” Gently he eased her back on the couch, holding the towel to her blood-soaked thigh then knelt at her feet to remove her shoes and the jeans. “I think between the rip from the wood and the blood, these things are history, Katie.”

She lay back against his couch, clutching the towel to her thigh, her eyes closed. “I don’t understand how they knew I was with you.”

“You think Strict’s hit-man rigged this?”

She shrugged, then winced. “It has the earmarks of the ambush techniques we were taught.”

Matt studied the rigged shotgun once more, fighting a flash of rage. What kind of life had she lived to give her knowledge most women never dreamed existed? He looked at the towel she gripped on her thigh.

“Better let me have a look at that.”

“No.” She gripped the towel tighter and tried to scoot farther into the couch.

“Katie, one of has to look at your wound.” Gently, he encircled her wrist with his hand. For a moment, her arm tensed beneath his grip then she relaxed. As he lifted the towel from her thigh, he sucked in air in a low whistle.

The wound itself was no longer than a few inches, and the blood seemed to be congealing. A purplish bruise had started to form and was peppered with smaller splinters from the explosion of wood and glass that hit her. It was the skin beneath that shocked Matt.

“Damn. What happened here?” Releasing her wrist, he gently ran his fingers over the outer ridges of puckered and grooved scar tissue that covered half her thigh.

Her muscle tensed beneath his tender exam. She opened her eyes to stare at him. The depth of pain in her violet eyes rocked him to his core.

Instantly he knew the answer.

“One of Strict’s pitbulls attacked you.”

No wonder she feared dogs. Realization of how strong she’d been to face not one, but three dogs the past twenty-four hours settled over him. Then guilt slammed into him. He’d forced her to deal with it all on her own.

Before she could answer him, the wail of sirens filled the room.

“You called the police?” The betrayal in her voice surprised him.

Frustration surged through him. Didn’t she see they were in over their heads?

“Katie, someone’s trying hard to kill you, and now me. A gunshot in the city has to be reported. Besides, you’re going to need some medical attention for this wound.”

“I told you, if the Marshals or the police take me into custody, I’m as good as dead.” She tried to stand.

 He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “There’s nowhere to run, sweetheart. They’re already here. Trust me, it’ll be okay.”

“Are you going to hand me over to them?”

The fear had returned to her eyes, and something more—pain. The knowledge that he’d put those emotions there burned in his gut. He wanted to convince her that he only wanted to protect her, but two policemen stepped through the door just then. “Mr. Edgars?”

“Right here, officer.” He cupped her face in his hands a moment, willing her to listen to him. “Stay here, and let me do the talking.”

Katie watched him through tear-filled eyes as the paramedics maneuvered around her, poking and prodding her hip and thigh. At some point they’d draped two warm blankets over her body and legs, exposing just the injured area they needed to work on. Despite their ministrations all of her attention focused on Matt and the two officers taking his statement.

When she’d awakened on his couch to find him about to cut her jeans off her, relief had flooded her. He hadn’t been harmed from the shotgun blast.

She’d tried to hide her scarred thigh and hip from him with the towel, but he hadn’t let her. Instead he’d insisted on looking at it. She wanted to crawl in a hole when he saw the scars. The gentle way he’d touched them, then the anger that hardened his features had nearly undone what little control she had left on her emotions.

She bit the inside of her mouth hard until the metallic taste of blood flowed over her tongue.

I will not cry. I will not cry
.

“Miss, did you hit your head at all?” One of the paramedics leaned in closer flashing a penlight in her eyes.

Katie blinked, then shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“She was unconscious for about three or four minutes,” Matt said from clear across the room.

A warm sensation settled in her chest. Even though he appeared to focus on the officers with him, he still watched over her. It had been a long time since someone had cared that much about her.

Shaking her head, Kate forced those thoughts and the odd feeling around her heart away. From experience she knew she needed to depend only on herself. People let you down or betrayed you, especially those you let get close.

“Miss?” The pesky paramedic’s face loomed before hers once more. “We need to take you to the hospital. The bleeding has slowed, but you may have a concussion.”

“No, I don’t need to go to the hospital.” Katie tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness and nausea flowed over her. The room took on a fun-house-mirror effect. As the medic eased her down onto the pillows, she closed her eyes.

“Can you tell me your name?” the medic asked.

She tried to concentrate on his questions, but Matt’s voice filtered across the room.

“...last year’s operation against a Russian mafia extortion ring...”

The medic lifted her eyelid. “Your name, miss?”

“Sarah.” Katie answered automatically, swatting at the man’s hand on her face.

“I thought you said her name was Katie Myers, Officer Edgars,” the man in the dark-blue jacket asked Matt.

Katie closed her eyes tighter, and concentrated on listening.

“It must be the concussion, Officer.” Through the ringing in her ears she heard concern in Matt’s voice. “Her full name is Sarah Katherine Myers, but her family and I call her Katie.”

“We’re going to move you now, Sarah.” The paramedic and his partner lifted her from the couch onto the stretcher.

Maybe she did need to go to the hospital. Her brain felt a bit scrambled, and she swore Matt just told the police she was his innocent girlfriend, a Russian mafia wanted revenge on him and the shotgun blast was meant for him. Matt lying? To protect her? At the moment not much made sense, especially Matt.

Closing her eyes again, she took slow breaths in through her nose and blew them lightly out her mouth, trying to calm the nausea the medics caused, rolling her out to their ambulance. Suddenly a warm hand lay over hers, fingers caressing her palm. The tingle that sizzled up her arm confirmed Matt’s touch.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered near her ear.

She opened her eyes and focused on his worried face.

“I’m going to follow the ambulance to the hospital.”

“Come with me.” Katie clutched at his hand. The idea of being so alone, so vulnerable without him sent panic washing over her. God she hated that feeling.

“Sh, sweetheart. They won’t let me travel in the ambulance with you.” He kissed her lightly on the lips then moved his mouth to her ear. “Besides, if I drive the truck we’ll have some way to get away if we need to.”

She squeezed his hand, nodding. “You’ll be right behind me?” The weak need for reassurance in her voice was only half an act for the police and medical personnel surrounding them.

For a moment he stared into her eyes, the promise that he wouldn’t abandon her in his gaze. Then he kissed her once more. “You have my word, sweetheart.”

But the last thing she saw as the medics closed the doors behind her was the policeman pulling Matt aside for questioning once more. He’d forgotten his promise and her already.

* * * * *

In the hazy morning light, pain in her hip and thigh pulled her from sleep. Slowly, she turned onto her back. A groan escaped her.

“Katie?” Matt’s deep voice came from the room’s dark corner. “Do you need the nurse?”

“No. Some water, please.”