Читать книгу Running Target - Elizabeth Goddard - Страница 15

This night was turning into pure torture. She couldn’t do this anymore. After holding tight to Quinn’s back, locked in one position with no opportunity to shift or reposition, her body ached as if she’d been riding a horse for hours. She couldn’t see where they were going and feared at any moment a bullet would burrow into her back. She knew that Quinn tried to be careful, but small branches slapped her cheeks and arms from time to time. She kept her eyes closed to protect them, but there was nothing much she could do for the rest of her. And bugs—she had to have acquired a spider or beetle or two during their trek. Just the thought of creepy-crawlers had goose bumps rising on her flesh.

Of course, Quinn was going through far worse. So how did she explain that she needed to rest? Their lives were far more important than her need to ease her aches and pains.

Except she simply couldn’t hold on anymore.

As if reading her mind, Quinn slowed down, then stopped and nearly stumbled. He leaned over to allow her to slip off. She stepped on her ankle then fell. He caught her before she hit the ground and held her steady.

“Are you okay?”

“I forgot about my ankle. I’m good.” She reached for the nearest tree trunk to prop herself against. She could stand with something to lean on as long as she didn’t use her injured ankle. The pain had been forgotten, but the throbbing came back strong now. She stretched her back and arms, surprised at how stiff she was.

Then she took in their surroundings. She thought Quinn had stopped from sheer exhaustion, but now it appeared there was more to it. The trees were thick around them but in this spot, they had thinned out, allowing moonlight through in the moments when fast-moving clouds weren’t drifting by. Vines and ferns grew up and around what she thought might be a structure against the side of an incline. A ridge, maybe.

It was beautiful. Like some kind of fairyland. She must be beyond exhausted to be thinking like that now.

“What is this place?” she asked.

“It’s my home. At least, it has been for the last six months.”

“Oh.” Wow. “Isn’t this a wilderness area?” As a deputy who worked near national parks in the county, she understood that a wilderness area was federally owned land, meant to remain undeveloped without structures or improvements or habitation. Hmm.

“Don’t worry. We’re right on the edge of the wilderness, but this is private property—it’s a friend’s deer lease. He hunts here during deer hunting season. It’s about as far as you can get from civilization with a camper.”

Oh, now she saw it. A camper was hidden beneath the vines and greenery—well, silvery in the moonlight. “How did he get this camper up here? There aren’t even any roads.”

“None that you can easily see. That’s why I like it.” Quinn glanced through the woods. “Let’s take this conversation inside. Get fueled, hydrated and rested. I don’t know how long we have.”

Quinn assisted her forward, moving vines out of the way until she could make out an actual door. Then she recognized the camper as a small Casita travel trailer. He’d lived here for the last six months?

She definitely wanted to know why.

Inside the camper, he turned on a light, dimming it enough that it would be imperceptible from outside. Electricity and water would be an issue up here but obviously Quinn had that all figured out.

Something crawled over her arm. She yelped and slapped her arm free of the insect.

She glanced around the small space—were they any spiders or rodents?—and rubbed her tired arms. The place was much neater than she would have expected of a guy living alone.

He busied himself at the small kitchen. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“You were expecting the place to be trashed out.”

Yeah, well, she’d known him as a teenager. He was no different from her brother... Oh. She wished she hadn’t thought of Steve, because it brought that same image to mind—Quinn holding her dead brother, his friend. The utter remorse on his face. Tears surged in her eyes. And for the first time, she thought about Quinn’s expression as he carried Steve, the devastation he must have felt. Bree had only ever been concerned about Dad and Stevie, and her own loss. Somehow, that now seemed selfish of her.

She pushed the image far from her and tried to calm her nerves. Her muscles ached and she needed to rest—but like Quinn said, they didn’t know how long they had. If those men tracked them here, then they’d have to run again.

She wanted to believe that they’d stop looking, but a persistent sense of unease told her she wasn’t safe. Not yet. Bree couldn’t fathom what had happened on the river, or this night of running. Who would have thought they would try so hard to kill her?

Give it up already.

She was so exhausted, all she could think about was closing her eyes, and she hadn’t been the one trekking through the woods with the weight of another person on his back for half the night.

She eyed the small bed on the far side—where Quinn would sleep. She was fine with the sofa on this side. But wait. What was she thinking? She wasn’t going to stay long enough for that. Bree could sleep for a thousand years, but not until she was safe at home and Stevie was in her arms. And Dad knew that she was all right.

Now. How did she get there?

Bree realized Quinn was waiting for her to reply to his comment about her expecting the place to be a mess. “Oh, yeah, I was, actually. You were really sloppy.”

“These days, I have to keep it perfectly clean or I’d go crazy. I couldn’t function. Plus, I need to be able to flee at any moment and don’t want to have to search for stuff.”

Flee at any moment? Now that got her attention. She sat up and blinked, hoping she could keep her eyes open.

What was going on? She wanted answers from Quinn, but first she had some explaining to do herself.

He handed her a tall glass of water he must haul up here in plastic jugs. How else could he get it?

As she drank, he guzzled down his own and watched her over the rim of his glass. His blue-gray eyes stared at her. Eyes she used to look into all dreamily. That was before reality hit her hard—Quinn would leave her again. And again.

She still couldn’t get over the fact that Quinn had rescued her. She could remember the moment of surprise mixed with relief at seeing a friendly face, then with anger all over again, the way she always felt around him these days, at the way he’d left her—with a dead brother to remember him by. And yet now that he was here, her heart warmed to see him—she’d missed him so much. At the same time, she had never wanted to see him again.

She had mixed emotions when it came to this man—no doubt there.

But none of their past mattered while they were in danger. She finished the last of her water. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was.

“I’m so sorry for dragging you into this, Quinn. But...how did you find me? What are you even doing here?”

He slowly set the glass on the counter and scraped both hands through his thick, shaggy hair. Her heart jumped around inside—she had always been so attracted to him, and unfortunately, now wasn’t any different. Angry with herself, she pushed from the sofa though she was a little unsteady on her feet, especially her injured ankle. She leaned against the counter to support her weight.

“What’s going on, Quinn?” She tried to read his somber expression.

He leveled his gaze on her. Oh no. Here it comes. She wasn’t so sure she wanted to know.

“You didn’t drag me into this.” Hands on his hips, he turned his back on her.

“Quinn.”

A few seconds passed, then, “It’s my fault that you’re in the middle.”

“Start talking.”

When he turned, she thought she might have seen him hiding a grin. “You were never the patient kind.”

“Quinn!”

He held his hands in the air and pressed his palms down. “Keep your voice down. We don’t want to lead anyone here.”

She eased forward but not too close. Maybe if she backed off the pressure, he would talk. She recalled easily enough that pressure was the wrong tactic with him. He would run rather than face it.

He took several long breaths. “Those men you ran into—they came here looking for me. I... I’ve been dreading this day. Hoping it would never happen, but keeping an eye out for it, all the same. From my perch here, if I look just so, I can view the river. I saw the whole thing from the moment you and your partner pulled up alongside them. I was watching it through my binoculars. I never prayed so hard, Bree. Well, there was one other time...”

Yeah, she knew exactly what time that was. He had prayed hard for Steve to live.

She said nothing, though, waiting for him to continue.

“As soon as I saw you go into the water, I followed you and saw you swim away. I started making my way down. It was dark by the time I found you, but I had my monocular so I kept searching and praying I could find you. There was only one real path you could have taken with the way the ravine twists along the river, and unfortunately, only one path the men after you could have taken.”

“Well, even if they came here for you, they’re after me now, too. But I have to ask—who are they and why are they searching for you?”

“Anything I tell you could put you in more danger.”

She huffed.

“You seem a little indignant.”

“You think? Seriously, Quinn, I’m already in danger. Jayce McBride, my partner and a good deputy, a husband and a father—he’s in danger. He made it out of the water, but I have no idea if he crawled on the bank to die or if he has been rescued...or if he’s still out there, trying to evade capture. Now, after everything I’ve just been through, I deserve to know, especially if what you say is true—that those men were on the river looking for you. Are you going to tell me?”

He hung his head. “I’m so sorry about everything.” He sucked in a long breath, then, “I was working undercover and they found out. That’s a betrayal they won’t easily forget, so they hunted me all the way here from Louisiana.”

Bree’s heart twisted in a hundred directions. She sucked in a breath. “Who are you working with?”

“DEA...”

Drug Enforcement Administration.

“Was, anyway.”

Obviously, there was much more to it.

Favoring her good leg, she tightened the belt on her uniform pants. She’d lost her own weapon. Her radio wasn’t working. But that didn’t change a thing. “I’m Deputy Carrington, Quinn, and if you’re being threatened then it’s my job to protect you. Let’s get you back to civilization and I can put you in protective custody.”

* * *

He swallowed the laugh that almost erupted.

Not going to happen.

Aww, Bree... Look at you.

He took in her messy, muddy face and hair—he couldn’t even tell if it was red now—and the scratch along her cheek. She probably got that from their wild run through the forest. That needed cleaning. He resisted the urge to cup her face. Wished he could take the pain of this night away.

The truth was that all Quinn would ever be to Bree was a pain-maker. But he could at least address the smallish pains. “Wait here.”

“Where are you going?”

“Just grabbing a first aid kit.” He didn’t have far to go in the small space, and was soon wiping away the mud from her cheek, then cleaning the scratch. “Let’s take care of these nicks and cuts before we head out again.”

“Thanks, but Quinn, you’re avoiding responding to my offer.”

In her eyes, he saw that he’d hurt her by not taking her up on her promise of protection. But it was ridiculous at best. She had no idea what she was committing to. No idea that she was only getting herself in deeper with her offer to help—that is, if he were to take her up on it.

He searched inside the kit, then hung his head. “I never meant to drag you or anyone else into this. I was hiding where no one could find me and yet I led them right into your path.”

“And just how did they find you?”

“That’s something I’d like to know as well, but it’s a question for another day. Right now, I need to wrap that ankle. Attend to the other scratches.” Get a rag to wipe away the mud from her face and hair. She could really use some clean clothes, as could he.

Her eyes were kind of glazing over now. “Sit down, Bree.”

Oddly, she allowed him to guide her to the sofa. He frowned. Was she going into shock? “Bree, tell me this.”

“What?”

“I know you’ve worked as a deputy for a few years. Have you ever killed anyone in the line of duty before?”

She studied her shaky hands and shook her head. “No. I... I’ve never exchanged gunfire like that. Nor had Jayce. The movies make it look like we do that all the time, but...”

“I know.” He knew, all right. He remembered the first person he’d taken out in the line of duty—first, as a soldier overseas. And then, unfortunately, in his job with the DEA. It had changed him. He didn’t like it.

He squeezed her shoulder. “It’s okay. Take your time.” She would need a lot of time to process that she’d shot and killed one of the bad guys tonight, even though she was a trained deputy. She was still human, after all, and taking a life would affect her in every way—spiritually, psychologically and mentally.

He sucked in a breath. He’d done this to her, too, put her in a situation where she’d had to take a life. Eventually, she might have been forced to take someone out in her job as a deputy. But maybe not. He couldn’t be sure. And anyway, the fact that she’d had to do so tonight was on him.

He had to get her back to civilization. She needed care and counseling.

Quinn was beyond care and counseling—and his only concern in this life was one thing: getting Bree to safety.

He lifted her chin to look into her beautiful green eyes—sad, grief-stricken eyes. They stabbed his heart, broke it open. She wanted to cry. He could see her eyes shimmering with emotion.

Quinn wanted to draw her into his arms and comfort her. Make the bad men go away. If only they lived in a world where they could be together and Quinn wouldn’t bring her harm or pain, and hey, as long as he was wishing, why not wish for Steve to be alive, too?

She blinked and moved away from his touch. In her eyes, her expression, he saw the same fire and determination he knew he’d eventually find there—it stirred back to life. Good. That was much better than seeing her defeated.

The last time he’d seen Bree in Coldwater Bay and looked in her eyes, he’d been holding her brother Steve’s body. His best friend. The man had drowned in a boating accident. Quinn had been on the boat with him. Though he hadn’t been charged, he’d held himself responsible, and so had Bree, he was sure. She hadn’t said as much, but he knew. He’d taken one look in her eyes then and seen the massive hurt and utter disappointment. It had cut him to the soul.

After being the sole survivor of the car accident that had killed his parents when he was a teenager, what had he been thinking to believe he could ever be close to or love someone? It would all turn to death and ash. That’s why he’d taken off again, even leaving his sisters behind.

But he’d tried. Oh, he’d tried with Bree. The second time he tried—after he’d returned from his military service—he’d actually let himself love her. Then her brother had drowned. Quinn had known at that moment that he didn’t deserve to love or to live a life filled with love. He’d been too afraid that even if he tried, tragedy would strike again. And now it appeared he definitely brought that death and danger with him.

He’d thought he could never look in her eyes again. So he’d left. He’d found the darkest place, a place he knew he would never be tempted to love, and he’d joined the DEA to fight another kind of war—the drug war.

The evil he’d experienced there made him feel dirty. Soiled. He wanted to wipe himself clean but he couldn’t get away. The darkness, the evil had followed him here to hurt Bree.

What had he been thinking to come back to Coldwater Bay?

His dangerous and dark job had gotten the best of him. And suddenly, the question burned and he had to know the answer. “You do believe me about why the men are after me, don’t you?”

“I want to, Quinn. But why not go to your superiors? Why not tell someone in the DEA—they could protect you.”

“Because someone on the inside is dirty. I don’t know everyone involved and I have to know who I can trust first. I was trying to find that out when my cover was suddenly blown and the leader of the group I infiltrated sent hitmen to kill me.” He squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to imagine what those men would do to Bree if they got to her.

Because of him.

Why, God?

“So you just left your job?”

He nodded. “I’m hiding from the good guys and the bad guys. I can’t tell which is which.”

She frowned. “So you, what—just thought you could hide here forever?”

Not forever. “I just had to get away. Let things die down. Figure out who I could trust. I shouldn’t have come anywhere near Coldwater Bay. But I didn’t know where to go. I knew I couldn’t go running back to Aunt Debby or bring danger to my family. But I ended up near home anyway.” He’d thought he was discreet enough, hiding out in the wilderness, not contacting his family. But on his supply runs in town, he would spend time at an internet café and search for information, anything to help. Maybe that had been too risky, and he’d been located because of his activities.

“I guess something about Coldwater Bay just drew you back.” A smile from her?

That surprised him.

“I guess so. I never meant to bring danger to you.” Despite his efforts to stay away, he found himself looking in her eyes again, and her gaze swept his heart up into her current. “Bree—” What? What could he possibly say to make it all better? “We should be safe here for a few hours at least. You don’t need to try to protect me. You can’t put me into protective custody. That wouldn’t be a good idea for either of us. I’ll get you to safety and then I need to disappear again.”

He wouldn’t think his words, his promise to disappear, would surprise her. After all, he’d done just that at least twice with her. But her jaw hung open while she processed his words.

“If anyone asks,” he continued, “you never saw me. Do you understand?”

A loud snap resounded.

Someone had just triggered one of Quinn’s booby traps.