Читать книгу Fugitive Bride - Пола Грейвс - Страница 10

Chapter Two

Most of the haziness left in her brain from the ether disappeared in a snap when Tara heard the van’s engine shut off.

“We’ve stopped.” She looked up at Owen, wishing he wasn’t just a shadowy silhouette in the gloom. Sometimes just the sight of him, so controlled and serious, could make her feel as if everything in the world would be okay. At least she could hear his voice, that low Kentucky drawl that had always steadied her like a rock, even in the midst of the craziness life had a habit of throwing her way. “What are they going to do to us now?”

“I don’t know. Maybe nothing.” He didn’t sound confident.

She reached across the narrow space between them and grabbed his hands. “We need a plan.”

“We don’t have anything to fight with, Tara.”

“Yes, we do.” She squeezed his hands and pushed to her feet, heading for the corner where he’d buried the pillowcase inside the remains of her skirt. She grabbed the whole bundle and brought it to where Owen waited.

She saw the faintest glimmer in his eyes when he looked at her, just a hint of light in the darkness. “You are brilliant, sweetheart.”

“There were two of them. One who came to get me, telling me there was a package waiting for me, and one standing by the van. I think he was the one who put the pillowcase over my head.” She kept her voice low, in case their voices carried outside the van. “They think we’re still tied up. At least, we’d better hope they do.”

“It’ll still take two of them to get us out, so we won’t have an advantage. Except surprise.”

She grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Surprise can go a long way. So, first one through the door gets the ether pillowcase over his head.”

“And we shove him back onto the second guy while he’s off guard.”

She looked at Owen, wishing she could see him more clearly. “Think this has a chance of working?”

“No clue, but it’s all we’ve got. So let’s make it work.” He reached across and gripped her hands briefly. Then he unwrapped the pillowcase from the dress skirt.

The sickly sweet odor of the ether made Tara’s stomach twist, but with a little effort she controlled her nerves. She had one job—to fight with every ounce of strength and will she had to get out of this dangerous spot.

At least she wasn’t alone. Owen was with her, and if there was one thing in her life she knew completely, it was that Owen would do everything he could to keep her safe. He’d been doing that for her since high school.

The back door of the van rattled, and Tara’s heart skipped a beat. She sneaked a quick look at Owen and found him staring at the door, his focus complete.

He’d undergone training at Campbell Cove Academy, which was part of the security company where he now worked, but Tara hadn’t really given much thought to what that training entailed. After all, Owen was a computer geek. Computer geeks didn’t have much need for ninja skills, did they?

He’d been teased as a child because his skills and talents lent themselves to academic pursuits instead of sports. Even his own father had undermined Owen, calling him weak and inept because he wouldn’t try out for the football team in high school.

Tara wished some of those people could see Owen right now, ready to take on two possibly armed men in order to protect her.

The door to the van opened, and light invaded the back of the van, blinding Tara for a long panicky moment, until a rush of movement from Owen’s side of the door spurred her into motion. Her vision adjusted in time for her to see Owen jamming the pillowcase over a man’s head and giving him a push backward. The man fell over like a bowling pin, toppling the other man who stood right behind him.

Owen grabbed Tara’s hand. “Jump!” he yelled as he jerked her with him out the back door of the van.

She saw the two men on the ground struggling to right themselves. It wouldn’t be long before they did, she realized. The thought spurred her to run faster. Thank God she’d opted for low-heeled pumps for her wedding, she thought as she ran across the blacktop road and into the woods on the other side, her hand still firmly clasped in Owen’s.

The pumps proved themselves more problematic once they hit the softer ground of the woods. Behind her, the men they’d just escaped started shouting for them to stop, punctuating their calls with a couple of gunshots that made Tara’s blood turn to ice. But, as far as she could tell, none of the shots got anywhere near them.

“Come on,” Owen urged, pulling her with him as he zigzagged though the woods. It took a couple of minutes to realize there was a method to his seemingly mad dash through the trees. They were moving from tree to tree, finding cover from their pursuers.

What was left of her wedding dress was a liability, she realized with dismay. The white fabric stood out in the dark woods like a beacon. At least Owen’s tux was black. He blended into the trees much better than she could hope to do.

“You go without me,” she said as they took temporary cover behind the wide trunk of an oak tree. “I’m the one they’re after. I stick out like a hooker in a church in this dress. You could find help and send the police after the van. You could tell Robert what happened.”

Owen looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “I am not leaving you,” he growled.

The sudden urge to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him caught her off guard. She’d set aside those nascent feelings of attraction to Owen a long time ago, valuing his loyal friendship far more than she valued any sort of sexual attraction she might feel toward him. To have it come back now, in this awful situation, was confounding.

“Now!” Owen growled, and he tugged her with him through the underbrush to their next bit of cover.

Behind them, the sound of their pursuers was close enough to spur their forward movement. But the men following them weren’t any closer, Tara realized. So far, she and Owen seemed to be staying ahead of the danger pursuing them.

But what would happen if they ran out of woods?

A brisk breeze had picked up as they ran, rustling the leaves overhead. Thank heaven for spring growth; two months ago, these woods would have been winter bare and couldn’t have provided them with nearly enough cover. But even here in the Kentucky mountains, the woods couldn’t go on forever, which could be a good thing or a bad thing. If they managed to find a well-populated town around the next copse, they’d be safe.

But if they ran into a clearing with neither cover nor the safety of numbers to protect them...

“How long do you think they’ll keep chasing us?” she asked breathlessly as they crouched behind another tree.

“I don’t know,” Owen admitted. “I don’t suppose you know why they grabbed you. Did they give you any indication?”

“No, it’s like I told you—one of the men came to get me and the other put the pillowcase over my head before I could even get a good look at his face. Although he definitely asked for me by name. Ms. Bentley.” She risked a peek around the side of the tree providing them with cover. “I don’t see them anymore.”

“I don’t think we should move anytime soon. They may be hunkered down, waiting to flush us out.”

Tara frowned. “How long are we talking?”

“I don’t know. A couple of hours?”

She grimaced. “I suppose it’s a bad time to mention that I desperately need to pee.”

Owen gave a soft huff of laughter. “Can you hold it awhile?”

“Do I have any choice?”

“No.”

“Well, there you go.”

Owen gave her a look that made her insides melt a little. She might have decided years ago that she’d rather be his friend forever than risk losing him by taking their relationship to a more sexual place, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t aware that he found her just as attractive as she found him.

And right now he was looking at her as if he wanted to strip her naked and slake his thirst for her up against the rough trunk of this big oak tree.

Oh, God, Tara, you’re hiding from crazy kidnappers and you choose now to conjure up that visual?

“I think I know where we are,” Owen murmured a few minutes later.

Moving only her eyes, Tara scanned the woods around them, seeing only trees, trees and more trees. “How on earth is that possible?” she whispered.

“Because while you went to cheerleading camp, I went to Boy Scout camp.”

“And what, got a badge in telling one gol dang leafy tree from another?” Staying still was starting to get to her already. She wasn’t the kind of woman who stayed still. Ever. And the urge to look behind them to see if their captors were sneaking up on them was almost more than she could bear.

“No,” Owen said with more patience than she deserved. “It’s because I stayed in a rickety little cabin with five other boys about two hundred yards to our east.”

She slanted a look at him. “How can you possibly know that?”

“See that big tree right ahead? The one with the large moon-shaped scar on the trunk about five feet up?”

She peered through the trees. “No.”

“Well, trust me, it’s there. And that moon shape is there because Billy Turley and I carved it in the trunk on a dare. Our camp counselor didn’t buy that we were trying out our trailblazing skills like Daniel Boone before us.”

There had never been a time in her life when she’d felt less like smiling, but the image conjured up by Owen’s words made her lips curve despite herself. She and Owen had met around the time they were both in sixth grade. In fact, she could remember Owen taking that trip to the woods because she’d been over-the-moon excited about being invited to cheerleading camp, since only girls who went to the camp in middle school ever made the varsity squad in high school.

Oh, for the days when life was so simple that her biggest worry was crash-landing a herkie jump in front of twenty other judgmental preteen girls.

“I know you’re about ready to squirm out of your skin,” Owen said quietly, slipping his hand into hers, “but I have a plan.”

She curled her fingers around his. “Okay. What is it?”

“As soon as I’m pretty sure our kidnappers have retreated, we’ll head for the cabin.”

She looked up at him, narrowing her eyes. “The one you stayed in twenty years ago when you were eleven?”

“I think it’s still there.”

“Maybe, but in what kind of condition?”

His lips flattened with exasperation. She felt his grip on her hand loosen. “Must you always be so negative?”

She tightened her fingers around his again. “Yes. But sorry.”

He gave her fingers a light squeeze. “I suppose it’s part of your charm.”

“Sweet talker,” she muttered.

“So we’re agreed? We head for the cabin?”

“If it’s still there.” She looked up. “Sorry. Negativity.”

“If it’s still there,” he agreed. “And we’d better hope it is.”

The dark tone of his growly voice made her stomach turn a flip. “Why’s that?”

“You know how the wind has picked up?”

“Yeah?”

“I think the rain may be getting here a little earlier than expected tonight.”

Owen was right. Within a few minutes, the brisk wind began to carry needles of rain from which the spring growth overhead provided only partial shelter. Owen tried to tuck Tara under his coat, but the rain became relentless as daylight waned, darkness falling prematurely because of the lowering sky.

Tara wiped the beading water from her watch face. Nearly six. The wedding would have long been over by now, if she’d gone through with it. Robert must be going crazy, wondering what happened to her. Her car would still be in the parking lot, her purse in the bride’s room. The only thing missing was the bride and her puffy white dress.

Would everyone realize something had gone very wrong? Or would they assume that Tara had succumbed to cold feet and bolted without letting anyone know?

Was Robert thinking he’d just made a narrow escape from a lifetime with a lunatic?

Stop it, Tara. This is not your fault.

Owen was right. She was way too negative. She added it to her mental list of things she needed to work on, right behind cellulite on her thighs and—oh, yeah—running away from dangerous, crazy kidnappers.

“You’re thinking, aren’t you?” Owen asked. “I always worry when you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking I haven’t heard anything from the kidnappers back there recently. I’m also thinking that there may be ants crawling up my legs. And I’m thinking if I have to hide behind this tree for a minute longer, getting soaked to the skin, I’m going to run crazy through the trees, screaming I give up! Come get me! at the top of my lungs.”

Owen turned toward her, cupping her face between his hands. His fingers were cool, but the look in his eyes was scalding hot. “I know you’re scared. I know wisecracking and complaining is how you show it. And you’re right. We haven’t heard those guys recently. I don’t think they were eager to spend the rest of their day hunting you down in the woods when they know who you are and can take a chance on grabbing you another time.”

She stared up at him. “You really think they’ll try this again?”

“You said they asked for you by name.”

“But why? I’m not rich. Robert’s not even rich, not really. Not enough to warrant a risky daylight abduction.”

“I know. But even if you can’t think of a reason, they clearly had one.” He dropped his hands to his sides. “It’s time to make a run for it. You ready?”

“Born ready.” She flashed him a cheeky grin, even if she felt like crying. It earned her one of Owen’s deliciously sexy smiles in return, and he touched her face again. His fingers were cold, but heat seemed to radiate through her from his touch.

He grabbed her hand and started running, pulling her behind him.

Even though she’d convinced herself that their captors had given up and made their escape, every muscle in Tara’s body tensed as she zigzagged behind Owen, her heart in her throat. Every twig that snapped beneath her feet sounded as thunderous as a gunshot, even through the masking hiss of the falling rain.

Two hundred yards to the cabin, Owen had said. Surely they’d run two hundred yards by now. That was two football fields, wasn’t it?

Owen jerked sideways suddenly, nearly flinging her off her feet. He grabbed her around the waist as she started to slide across the muddy ground and kept her upright. “There,” he said, satisfaction coloring his voice.

Tara followed his gaze and saw what looked to be a ramshackle wooden porch peeking out from the overgrowth about twenty yards away.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered.

His lips pressed to a thin line. “Shelter is shelter, Tara.” He let go of her hand and started toward the wooden structure with a brisk, determined stride.

She stood watching him for a moment, feeling terrible. The man had saved her life, and she’d been nothing but a whining ingrate.

Lighting flashed overhead, followed quickly by a bone-rattling boom of thunder that shook her out of her misery and sent her dashing through the muddy undergrowth as fast as her ruined pumps would carry her. She skidded to a stop at the edge of the porch and stared at what Owen had called a cabin.

It was tiny. She didn’t have any idea how Owen and his fellow Boy Scouts had managed to squeeze themselves inside the place. The three shallow steps leading up to the porch looked rickety and dangerous, though apparently they’d managed to hold Owen’s weight, for he was already on the porch, peering inside the darkened doorway of the small structure.

“I remember it as being bigger,” he said quietly.

“You were eleven.” She made herself risk the steps. They were sturdier than they looked, though the rain had left them slick. At least the stair railing didn’t wiggle too much as she climbed to the porch and joined Owen in the doorway.

Years had clearly passed since any Boy Scouts had darkened the door of this cabin. What she could see in the gloom looked damp and dilapidated. The musty smell of age and disuse filled Tara’s lungs as she took a shaky breath. “The roof leaks, doesn’t it?”

Owen took a step inside. Almost immediately, he jerked back, bumping into Tara. She had to grab him around the waist to keep from falling.

Something small and gray scuttled out the door past them, scampered off the porch and disappeared into the undergrowth.

“Possum,” Owen said.

Tara grimaced. “So that’s what I’m smelling.”

He whipped around to look at her. “I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you. Again.”

She grabbed his hand. “You saved me. I wouldn’t have gotten out of there without you.”

He gave her hand a little squeeze before letting go. “If it weren’t for you, I’d have never gotten loose from that duct tape.”

And he’d never have been in trouble if she hadn’t called him to share her doubts about the wedding. Which maybe she wouldn’t be having if she didn’t still find Owen so darn attractive.

They could play this game forever, going all the way back to sixth grade when she saved Owen from a bully and he’d helped her pass math.

They were darn near symbiotic at this point.

“You’re thinking again,” Owen murmured.

“I am,” she said. “I’m thinking if we’re planning on hunkering down here until the rain passes, I’d like to make sure there’s no possum surprises waiting for me in there. Any chance we could find a candle or two in this godforsaken place?”

“Maybe.” Owen entered the dark cabin. A moment later, she heard more than saw him scrabbling around in a drawer. “Ha.” He reached into the pocket of his tuxedo pants and pulled out something. A second later, a small light flickered in the darkness.

“You had a lighter in your pants pocket?”

“I wanted to be sure your candle lighting at the wedding went off without a hitch.” He shot her a sheepish grin. “I take my man-of-honor duties seriously.”

Her insides melted, and she crossed to where he stood, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face to his chest. “You’re the best man of honor ever.”

He rubbed his free hand down her arm. “Oh, Tara, you’re freezing. You really need to get out of those wet clothes.”

“And into what?” she asked, her voice coming out softer and sultrier than she’d intended.

He stared back at her, wordless, his eyes smoldering as strongly as the flickering candle in his hand. The moment stretched between them, electric and fraught with danger.

And forbidden desires...

A loud thud sounded outside the door, and in a flash, Owen extinguished the candle and pulled Tara behind him.

There was another thud. Slow. Deliberate.

Someone was outside the cabin.