Elizabeth Goddard - Targeted For Murder

With a quick intake of breath, she let the pack slip to the floor and thought back to those last moments with her father. She couldn’t get them out of her head.

He’d taught her skills. Yes. The self-defense training had kept her alive. But why hadn’t he taught her other skills—like how to hide, or create a false identity? She had no experience with deception—but her father, it seemed, was a master. He wasn’t the man she had thought he was. There was so much more she wished she had known, and now she never would.

Had he lied about her mother, too? Hadley had been told that her parents had lived happily in that small house on the Oregon Coast until her mother died in childbirth. What was the real story behind the house where they spent Christmas every year? Was it all a sham?

Oh, God. What do I do now? This wasn’t supposed to happen. Why couldn’t You at least have let my father live, so we could have run away together? He could have protected me.

She had to pull herself together to survive another day.

Hadley could do this. She must if she wanted to live.

She picked up the pack and pulled it on again. If only she had the luxury of telling her story to the sheriff like a normal person experiencing a normal crime.

But there wasn’t anything about this situation that was normal. Her father had said she should trust no one and she would adhere to his advice for now. There was nothing anyone could do for her, not even Cooper Wilde, the assassin killer.

She thought back to the wild intensity in his eyes, the visible strength of his body springing into action. A protector on steroids.

He had skills. Part of her regretted leaving him so abruptly. But surely it was for the best.

A faint noise, the hint of a sound, drew her attention. She held her breath and listened.

Not-so-subtle footfalls clunked on the porch.

Her biggest regret was that she hadn’t had a chance to grab her weapon like her father had told her. Nor had she had a chance to buy a new one.

She’d give anything for that protection now.

Clunk, clunk, clunk.

If it was another assassin, he could shoot her right through the wall. Fear gripped her. She held still and kept quiet. She wouldn’t give herself away if it weren’t already too late.

Someone knocked. “Are you there? It’s Cooper.”

Sweat bled from her palms. If only they were wrapped around her Glock.

Trust no one.

Never mind this man had saved her life. Maybe he was a threat to her, maybe he wasn’t. Right now, what bothered her was that he’d found her too quickly and easily. Why was it so hard to disappear?

* * *

“What do you want?”

Cooper scraped a hand down his face, wishing he’d had a chance to clean up.

“To talk. That’s all.”

“Is the sheriff with you?”

He leaned against the door, wanting to break through, but that would send her running quicker than anything. “No.”

Not yet.

He’d called once he’d gotten a signal but there wasn’t a deputy on duty for another four hours. The county seat where the sheriff’s office resided was sixty miles from Gideon. Still, the dispatcher said she’d make some calls and see if she could get someone out to Cooper.

Good thing the town wasn’t under siege. The joy of living in an actual designated wilderness region.

Never mind the location was so remote mail arrived via boat service. Oh well, if it was good enough for novelist Zane Grey, who wrote in a nearby cabin, it was good enough for Cooper.

“I don’t have time,” she said.

That’s right. She was in a hurry to run away.

“Could you at least open the door?”

The door creaked open slowly. Her posture was defensive. She would to fight her way out of here if he forced her.

He threw his hands up in surrender. “Whoa. I’m not the bad guy here, remember?”

Her wary expression didn’t change, but she stood aside, albeit reluctantly, then waved him in.

Cooper shut the door behind him.

“I can’t stay here. If there’s someone coming for me, I need to disappear. You’re holding me up.”

“I thought you should know it’ll be a while before anyone shows up to check on the guy who went into the river.”

Her face scrunched up. “So you did call the sheriff.”

“I tried. But deputies run thin around here.” He wouldn’t go into population to square mileage.

“Thanks, but you’re not helping. Why did you come again? To hold me for the law?”

Cooper wanted to kick himself. “Just trying to do the right thing.”

“You mean you were trying to cover yourself.”

“And you. But hey, I don’t even know your name.”

“Megan Spears from Iowa.”

Cooper frowned. Scratched his head. Megan Spears from Iowa? Right. After refusing to tell him anything earlier, she was suddenly willing to share her full name and where she was from? Unlikely. It had to be a false identity. But it was better than just calling her “the woman” in his head. “It’s nice to meet you, Megan Spears from Iowa.”

Megan Spears from Iowa sagged, probably just realizing her faux paus.

“So you don’t want to give me your real name. It’s okay.”

What am I getting myself into? I don’t have anything left to give, especially to help a girl in this much trouble.

“I need to disappear and yesterday.” Her words were strong, but they belied her appearance—scratched, bleeding and exhausted.

She tried to push past him.

“Wait,” he said. “I can help. I teach survival training. I have a military background. Just...let me help you.”

Hadley shrank if only a millimeter. “I’m listening.”

A half grin cracked into her lips. But why was she staring? “What?”

“You have a gash on your forehead. You’re bloody and bruised and you don’t even care. I saw how you fought. I think... I think I could believe your background.”

So she had trust issues, huh? Well, with trained killers after her, he could hardly blame her. Cooper had just offered her the first real chance to believe someone in a while, it would seem.

Cooper offered his own half grin. Except his smile wiped away the moment.

Her lips flattened. “It makes no difference. I need to leave.”

“Do you know where you’re going next? Where to hide?”

“It’s none of your business.” This time Megan pushed by him and he let her.

The sun was setting and the air grew chilled. “If you need to hide, I can help you. Don’t you get it?”

She whirled on him. “Why would you help me? You don’t even know me.”

He’d been asking himself that same question, and wondering if he even still had what it took to deal with this kind of life-and-death situation, that is, after failing so miserably. “I’ve trained my whole life to help people. It’s what I do. My business is about training people to survive. So I recognize when someone is desperate and needs help. I can’t turn my back on you. I won’t.”

His reasons went deeper, much deeper, he suddenly realized. He hadn’t seen how desperate his brother was until it was too late and he’d taken that suicide plunge. That had shaken Cooper’s confidence to the core. Even his father had blamed him. Hadley was desperate for far different reasons—he could see that and had no excuse this time. Without Cooper’s help she would die.

Now, how did he convince her to let him help?

“The kind of survival assistance I need goes far beyond what you train people for.”

“How do you know?”

She cocked a brow.

“And you’re up to the task?” he asked.

She turned her back on him and started for the old Jeep Wrangler soft top.

Cooper followed. He’d been on foot all day and had found his way here, trailing her from a distance.