Софи Келли - Hooked On A Feline

We were almost at Wisteria Hill. There wasn’t anything left to talk about. I felt something brush against my leg then, as light as the sweep of a feather. I froze, my entire body rigid.

Owen. It had to be.

Owen was with us in the truck.

Jonas suddenly leaned forward. I forced myself to keep my eyes on the road. There was no way he could know that Owen was here. Even if the cat accidentally touched him. I could feel my pulse pounding in the hollow at the base of my throat and I made myself take deep breaths and slow down my breathing. Panicking wasn’t going to do me any good.

“Detective Gordon sent you a text,” Jonas said.

Marcus rarely sent texts. Had he figured out something was wrong? “What does it say?”

“He wants to know where you are.”

I swallowed to ease my suddenly dry mouth. “Are you going to answer him?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

We drove in silence for maybe a minute; then Jonas spoke again. “I’m sorry I have to do this.”

“Then don’t do it.”

“And what? You’ll give me your word that you’ll keep all my secrets? You won’t. As I said, you’re just like Mike.” There was an edge of anger to his voice now.

“No, I won’t keep your secrets, but I will help you in any other way that I can.”

He laughed. “You’re honest. I’ll give you that. But I would sacrifice my life for Lachlan. And yours as well. Detective Gordon is a good man. I’m sorry he’s going to be hurt.”

Not if I can help it, I said silently.

chapter 20

We were at Wisteria Hill. I drove slowly up the driveway, hoping that somehow Roma had been late leaving or that her plans had changed, but the farmhouse was in darkness. I parked as close to the old carriage house as I could.

“Give me the keys, please,” Jonas said.

I handed them to him and laid one hand on the dashboard for a moment. Harrison had given me the truck because Owen and I had found some papers about his daughter, Elizabeth’s, adoption. And we’d almost gotten blown up in the process. We had barely gotten clear of the cabin where we’d been trapped when the propane tank exploded. I remembered having no sense of where my body was as the impact propelled me into the brush. I had landed flat on my back in a pile of snow, cold, wet, bruised and bloody.

But alive.

And then I’d caught sight of Owen coming toward me, snow and bits of tree bark stuck to his fur, spitting angry, meowing loudly all the way.

But alive.

We’d gotten out of that and we were going to get out of this as well.

Jonas gestured with the gun and I climbed out of the truck. Could I sprint to the carriage house if I had the chance? I hoped so. From there the woods were dense enough that I could find lots of places to hide.

I stood next to the truck while Jonas stuffed the keys and my phone into his pocket. He’d said that I noticed things that other people didn’t. He was right, which meant I’d paid attention when Harry had explained how he’d hot-wired a truck almost identical to this one when he was a lovestruck teenager. I didn’t need those keys to get out of here.

“If I had any other option to protect Lachlan, I would take it,” Jonas said. “Everything I have ever done has been for Lachlan.”

“So tell the truth for Lachlan. Tell him who he really is.”

“He’s Colin and Ainsley’s son. He’s a Finnamore.”

I wasn’t going to get though to him. In a different circumstance, I would have respected his loyalty to his child. But I was in this circumstance.

“I admire you and people who are like you,” he said. “I admire the fact that you truly do seem to see and expect the best from people, but I’m not like that. Maybe I was once, but not now. As I said before, I am sorry.” Once more he gestured with the gun.

I thought about Marcus and Mom and Dad and Ethan and Sarah and Harrison and Roma and Maggie and the furballs. I thought about what Mary had taught me about kickboxing and the structure of the human knee.

“I’m sorry, too,” I said.

And then I kicked the side of his knee as hard as I could. He yelled and went down, the hand holding the gun flying up in the air. I didn’t waste any time trying to look for the gun. I ran and hoped Owen was with me.

I bolted around the side of the old carriage house and sprinted for the trees. I had a bit of a head start, but I knew it wasn’t enough to let me double back to the truck. Jonas was taller and faster and stronger. I just hoped I’d connected hard enough that his knee would cause him enough trouble to give me an edge.

I tried to picture the road that ran in front of Wisteria Hill. If I turned left once I got up the graded embankment behind the carriage house, I could make another left turn and then head down toward the road. It made more sense than continuing to cut through the woods in the direction of the back access road. The main road would have more traffic.

It was dark and the air was heavy with moisture but it had stopped raining. Everything was dripping. The ground was saturated with water. I was breathing heavily. My feet in my canvas shoes were already soaking wet. I could hear the sound of rushing water. There was a stream off to the left behind the carriage house, skirting the rise where the trees began. When I got that far, I would need to turn left a second time. I reminded myself that it didn’t matter that it was dark. I could hear the water. I knew which way to go. I had an advantage Jonas didn’t have.

Owen still hadn’t appeared. I was afraid to even whisper the cat’s name in case Jonas heard me. I had to keep moving forward, hoping that Owen was here somewhere in the darkness beside me.

I made my way through the dripping trees, trying not to lose my footing on the mud and leaves and pine needles underfoot. Climbing up the embankment was a challenge. My feet kept sliding out from under me. The water sounded louder, closer. I tried to picture the last time I’d been here earlier in the summer. I couldn’t be that far from the stream. I could follow it to the road. I just had to keep moving.

I went from one tree to the next, hugging their trunks, trying to stay small and quiet. I had to assume Jonas was behind me. And then suddenly I pitched forward. A tree branch snapped against my forehead and I landed facedown on the ground. I rolled over onto my back, trying to get my breath. After a few moments, I sat up, running one hand down my right leg. The calf, right above my ankle, was bleeding. I flexed my foot and grimaced. It hurt but I didn’t think anything was broken. I felt around on the ground. I had tripped over a sharp-edged rock a bit bigger than my hand.

I could feel blood running down my leg. I needed a bandage. I pulled off my shirt, grateful that I had a tank top underneath. I managed to tear the fabric at a side seam. I tore off the whole right-front section and fashioned a makeshift tourniquet, knotting it as tightly as I could around my leg. I had just tied a second knot when Owen appeared beside me. He nuzzled my hand and I had to swallow a couple of times so I wouldn’t cry. I buried my face in his neck. He was muddy and wet and none too happy.

The rock I’d tripped over was still next to my foot. I ran my fingers over it and thought maybe I could use it. I looked around. Even though it was dark, I could see that I was at the upper edge of the embankment. I listened, focusing on tuning out the water rushing over the rocks. I heard a foot slip on the wet ground. Or was it just a racoon or a skunk? No. They would have been more sure-footed. It had to be Jonas. He was quiet but not quiet enough.

I kissed the top of Owen’s head, hoping he’d understand what I wanted him to do. I pointed at a nearby tree and then held up the rock. I pantomimed throwing it. He cocked his head to one side. Then I pointed to him and mimicked throwing back my head and yowling. My face was close to his and I saw his golden eyes narrow. Did he get it? I needed him to draw Jonas over to us. He probably would come this way but I needed to be sure and I needed to be ready.