Hunting April (19 page)

"I'm outta here." He slammed out through the kitchen door, headed into the storm.

"No! Daniel, wait!" April teetered on the edge of a scream, but it wasn't enough to stop him.

Wrapped in a fluffy gold bath sheet with a smaller towel around her hair, Abigail leaned over the balcony. "What's all the fuss, folks? And what's with the alarms?"

Hampered by cast, crutch, and the use of only one arm, Glennon turned away from April and headed to the lift, yelling at the alarm. "Hold your horses, I'm getting there, I'm getting there. Damn this leg!"

He nearly fell into the wheelchair waiting for him at the gallery level.

"Well, if you hadn't been such a butt-head—"

"O'Connell, this is so
not
the freakin' time to bust my balls." Glennon wheeled into the com center, shouted down to April. "It looks like there's a breach in the tree line directly behind the last cabin. Someone needs to tell—"

April moved immediately. "I'm on my way." She sprinted to the kitchen door—

and crashed into a rain-soaked Daniel, who barreled back indoors.

He grabbed her arm with an iron fist to keep her upright, then quickly released his grip. He hurried into the great room, called up to Glennon.

"Fire at the first cabin, possible lightning strike. I don't know what tripped the perimeter sensors. Could be broken tree limbs. The wind is howling, sounds like branches are crashing down everywhere. The rain should prevent the fire from spreading to the other buildings, but it's burning awfully hot, and the strong wind can be a factor. Garrett, check the perimeter sensors for more breaks, advise MacBride of the situation. Abigail, get dressed and help Garrett if we need to evacuate."

April came up behind him. "Daniel, wait a damned minute—"

He gave her a rough shake. "You. Move Garrett's truck out of the garage in case we need to vacate the premises in a hurry."

Glennon shouted over his shoulder as he wheeled back to the com center.

"Wyndsor, there are fire extinguishers in every building, inside each door. Two industrial-sized units in the front of the equipment shed. They hang on the wall inside the main door."

"Daniel, hang on . . . ." April absently rubbed at the impressions his fingers left on her arm.

He grabbed for a rain slicker from the pegs by the back door, missed, cursed, left the slicker on the floor where it landed. He didn't look back as he stormed out of the lodge.

Abigail must have pulled on her clothes in the space of a few heartbeats, then hurried from bedroom to bedroom. In no time, duffle bags flew over the gallery railing and landing on the floor below. "Extra clothes and stuff. April, throw these in the back of the truck, just in case. There are sleeping bags stowed in the garage, the steel cabinets on the left. If we need to go into town, power may be out there. You'll need to grab snacks and drinks, too."

She disappeared into the com center, then popped out again. "It'll be easier to follow the blaze if the lights are out. There are flashlights in the butler's pantry. Grab a couple, then keep checking on the fire from the windows. Oh, don't forget the cat crate.

You might want to catch the cat and lock her up now, just in case. I'll drag Glennon out of the lodge if we need to hop in a hurry."

A voice shouted out from the com room. "I don't need to be dragged anywhere."

"Yeah, right, you're as graceful as a flying penguin, Garrett."

"Penguins don't fly."

"Exactly my point, Grace."

April's gut churned.
What the hell happened? I didn't deserve that. Shit, no time now.

Leaving the cat for the moment, she grabbed a heavy industrial flashlight, then hurried into the garage through the indoor entrance. Once she backed out the Navigator, she parked it to face away from the lodge, for a quick departure. She hurried back through the lodge, clicked the light switches off on her way to the kitchen.

* * * * *

Furious, Daniel hadn't even felt the cold rain.
Bloody hell, how could I be so stupid?

He loved her, no doubt he loved her. He'd rushed to tell her, not wanting to wait a single heartbeat longer than necessary. He had a crystal clear plan of attack: he'd ask April to marry him, to be his wife. Then, she'd meet his parents. Finally, they'd fly to Scotland so he could present his lady to Granda Faolan . . . . The vision shattered at the sight of his woman in the arms of another, in the embrace of the man she must have loved first.
Fuck, I'm the rebound guy? Or maybe I'm the guy she used to make her man
jealous? Looks like it bloody well worked. He's back.

Scenes with April replayed in his mind. Moments of incredible lust. Mind-altering sex. Heart-melting tenderness. Trust. Loyalty.
Loyalty!
She totally ignited his feelings of protectiveness, of possessiveness—in the best possible way.

The consummate actress, and I bloody well missed it. That fuck-all bullshit, making me
believe she didn't know her way around the bloody bedroom. Stupid, letting my cock and balls
make decisions like an inexperienced youth who doesn't know any better. Couldn't see the
sodding lies staring me in the face
. Another thought fueled his personal fire.
If she wasn't
having sex, why was she already on the pill? Why full-time birth control? For Glennon, that's
why.

The pounding of his heart, the ache in his chest, had little to do with the weight of the heavy fire extinguisher in his arms. Nothing to do with the righteous rush of adrenaline that shot through his bloodstream as he kept the flames at bay. He worked with the mindless efficiency of an automaton, until the blaze choked to death under the heavy swathe of foam he laid down.

Relentless rain beat the acrid odor of smoke to the ground. The fire out, Daniel stood in the dark, drenched, uncaring. Raindrops continued to course, unnoticed, down his face.

His heart fractured, shattered like a broken mirror
. Why do I still love her?

* * * * *

April laid the heavy flashlight on the counter, pointed the wide beam at the cupboards. An unopened box of protein bars was at her fingertips when she heard the kitchen door open behind her.

"Daniel, thank goodness. We need to—" Before she could turn, a gloved hand clamped over her mouth from behind, wet wool pressing against her from a soaked pea coat.
Damn it, not again. Isn't there a better way to get my freakin' attention?

The grip was painfully tight and the harsh odor of gasoline gagged her.
Hold the
flippin' phone—it's not Daniel!

The man suddenly tensed, his heavily accented voice snarled in her ear. "Daniel?

Daniel Wenzoor?
Ahh
, the big man himself helped you to escape. Now we know the truth, how you get so far away."

He huffed a brief, coarse laugh. "My benefactor will pay to me a very handsome bonus for your Daniel Wenzoor's head on a stake. Your Daniel can no longer help you.

Give me Angelo's files, and I might let you live."

He had a death grip on her right elbow. Her left arm was trapped against the counter by her own body and his pressing weight.

Oh hell, it's not even Bobby Black Crow!

Angelo found me. For fuck sake, the bastard really found me
. Her brain froze, her muscles locked. Fear jacked up her heart rate.
What did he mean about Daniel? Is Daniel
already dead?

The man rubbed his heavy bristly jowl against her cheek, voice too close, his tone too intimate. "
Aprile, cosi abbastanza
, such a pretty name for a pretty little girl. So small,
la mia bambina
, like a China doll.
Hmm
, yes, I might let you live. But maybe we play a game first."

His thick lips pulled at her earlobe; she fought the urge to gag. "Angelo tells me you are quick, that you enjoy to run—perhaps if you are quick enough, clever enough, you can escape the hunter. Do you think you are able to escape me, clever girl?"

He dragged his tongue along her jaw."First, I kill your man—then I maybe release you to run from me."

The next words were whispered even closer, his breath heavy against her ear.

"Do not scream, or I will be forced to break your neck too soon. That would be a terrible shame. Know that I will not hesitate if necessary."

He removed his hand from her mouth. "Now, tell me where is the flash drive, my dainty antelope."

Kill her man? Man, not men?
He knows about Daniel, not the others—then Daniel
must still be alive!
Her brain clicked in, ramped up at warp speed into functional mode.

Abigail shouting in the training center, hammering the lessons home. "Jesus Christ, Hall, you
fight like a girl. Think, April, think! Assess the situation. Never give up. Fight, damn it! Use
everything, anything at your disposal. You're small and you're light, but you're quick, agile.

Use that body speed. Fight the sonofabitch with all you have—your life depends on it!"

Assess the situation. Use what you have.
Okay, what do I have? This man is strong
like an ox—I can't take him in a fair fight, especially this close. I have no leverage.
Abigail's words, meant to agitate:
you fight like a girl
. In spite of her fear, April grinned to herself.
I
can do that. I can fight like a girl
. Without warning, she whimpered, then slumped, her body limp, boneless as a jellyfish.

He uttered a curse, released his death grip on her arm. She knew his instinct would make him try to catch her before she fell.

As she dropped, she twisted and elbowed him sharply in the gut. She heard an
oof
, continued moving counterclockwise.

Follow through with the motion.
Abigail had badgered her, tripped April up, again and again.
Follow through, dammit!
Still moving, April skimmed her right arm over the kitchen counter—her fingers brushed the flashlight. She grabbed. Swung it against the intruder's skull. Connected.

He crashed to the floor with a groan.

She tripped over him, regained her footing and bolted for the front door.
Shit, he
didn't stay down
. A string of garbled curses reached her, his angry voice closing in.

Snatching her shoulder bag heavy with the weight of the borrowed Glock, she grabbed at the pair of front door handles, hoping to strike either lever to pull open one of the French doors. She prayed the intruder would follow her outside and not discover Abigail and an incapacitated Glennon on the gallery level.
If I can lure him from the
lodge—Daniel's still alive, always armed, always ready
.

The man dove at her more quickly than she'd calculated. His fingers grabbed her shirttail. She lurched sideways. The garment held her captive for only the briefest fearful moment, then the snaps of her Western shirt popped open. She wriggled free.

Another curse followed her as the wide man continued to roll forward with the useless shirt. He landed on the pile of duffle bags with a heavy grunt.

She heard an angry hissing yowl and a scream, "
Gatto scopante stupido
!" Callie must have nested somewhere on the luggage, taken affront at being abused by a stranger.

The hit man's thick, heavy body blocked the front doors. Blocked April's escape.

She was in full panic mode. Adrenaline pumped into her bloodstream like water through a shattered dam. April flew along the front wall of the great room, pushed through the heavy glass doors of the pavilion. She sprinted along the ceramic tiled pool surround, slammed through the second set of doors at the far end of the pool. She slid her hand along the center handrail, which guided her as she stumbled down the stairs to the underground training facility. She descended into inky darkness.

Oh fuck. No way out. Good move, Hall, just brilliant
. No point in screaming.
Can't
call for help anyway. Can't lead Abigail into an ambush or leave Glennon as a target
. Aimless in the dark, April pitched into the heavy training bag suspended from a ceiling beam.

The chain creaked. Too late, she grabbed the bag to silence it. The
pppfffttt
of a silenced round flew past her ear, followed instantly by the tiny
thwack
as a bullet hit the bag.

The intruder had reached the basement. If he hit the lights, he'd be as much a target. She doubted he was that stupid. They were both working blind.

April crouched, tried to recall the layout of the facility.
Abigail would yammer at
me that I have the home court advantage
. She remembered a jump rope hung on a wall hook next to the training bag. Felt around in the dark.
Aha, got it!
She quietly folded and knotted the rope, then tossed it away from her.

Thwack
. Another round, not so close.

Think, think
. Changing tactics, she began to slide along the wall toward the shooter, instead of away.
If I can get behind him, reach the stairs . . . .

She eased the handgun from her soft, quilted bag. The distinctive sound of chambering a round would draw the killer to her before she could shoot. Bad idea.

Think, dammit. What to do?

Her mind flew back to the shooting range. Daniel's voice in stern Ranger mode, prodding, coaching. Over and over.
Ugh
. She'd hated it. The repetition. Practice, practice, practice. She'd handled a plethora of handguns, of ammo, guns silenced, not silenced, until her fingers were numb. Then even
more
repetition. She felt like screaming,
enough, dammit, enough already!

Daniel's voice in her head.
Take your time. Use your senses. Don't be hasty. Be sure of
your target. Build a clear mental image of your surroundings. Picture your goal. Don't let your
assailant pressure you, don't let him rattle your cage. He'll try to push you into making a
mistake.

As she slid behind a pyramid of rolled wrestling mats, something brushed against her hair. Like her mother's touch.
"Don't ever say 'I can't.' You can."