Aimee Thurlo - When Lightning Strikes

Hannah reached for some towels on a shelf and handed him one. As she patted her long hair dry, Daniel studied her appreciatively.

Hannah Jones was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, crazy or not. And those eyes! They were evocative and sensual, the kind that could steal a man’s soul. Quickly, he reminded himself that they were also, apparently, the eyes of a woman with a damaged mind. There was no way of telling what would happen if he inadvertently pushed the wrong buttons.

Hannah started to go into the next room to change clothes, but he knew he couldn’t risk letting her out of his sight. He motioned to Wolf to follow and guard.

Daniel heard her startled cry as Wolf joined her. “Don’t worry. He’s a pussycat. Really.”

She came back out in seconds wearing an old flannel shirt. It fit snugly around her breasts, reminding him of things he had no business dwelling on.

“Let’s get going.”

“Where?” she asked, immediately on her guard.

“You are Hannah Jones.”

“How did you know?” Her eyes widened with fear and she stepped back.

“Wait. You already know I’m not your enemy. Remember, I pulled you from the water? If I’d wanted to harm you, I could have let you drown.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then finally nodded. “Okay, that makes sense. But how did you find me, and who are you?”

“I go by the name of Lightning,” he said. “Your uncle sent me to find you and bring you back so you can get some medical help. I’m also supposed to bring back the money you took from the church.”

“The money I…what?”

“You took around two thousand dollars from the church, then hit your uncle in the back of the head,” he said quietly. “But he’s okay now, and nobody’s pressing charges. The police aren’t involved in this at all. Your uncle and the people on the church committee just want to help you. They’ve even kept your disappearance a secret.”

Hannah shook her head. “None of what you’ve said makes sense. I couldn’t have harmed my uncle. He’s the only family I’ve got left. I love him. And I’m not a thief,” she added flatly.

“Then tell me. What’s your version of what happened at the church, and how did you end up here?”

She hesitated, then exhaled softly. “Unfortunately, I don’t know what happened at the church. I remember walking in there, then the next thing I recall was waking up in a strange car with a man nearby who was planning to kill me. I got away from him as fast as I could,” Hannah said, explaining her escape.

Daniel gave her a long, speculative glance. Her story might have been part of her delusion, or simply an attempt to get him to let her go. “Do you have any idea how you ended up in that man’s car, or what happened to your own vehicle? It’s missing.”

Her eyes welled up with tears, but she didn’t let them spill. Instead she met his gaze with a level one of her own. “I don’t remember, and I don’t understand why I can’t. It’s not for lack of trying, believe me.”

Daniel gazed at the face that was beginning to mesmerize him. There was a slight bump on her forehead, mostly covered by her bangs, which were starting to dry now, but it scarcely looked significant enough to have created a memory loss. “What exactly do you remember?”

“I was at the church waiting to see my uncle. I remember going into his office. Then, after that, nothing—that is until I woke up in the car of the man I told you about, handcuffed to a bracket by the seat. I heard him talking to someone else on the phone who, apparently, was telling him to kill me.”

“Where are the cuffs? Did you find a key?”

“No. I found some of those little hexagonal L-shaped tools in a drawer. One was small enough to fit into the lock, and I fiddled with it until the lock opened.” She walked to the kitchen and held the handcuffs up for him to see. “Here.”

He took them and put them in his back pocket. They were definitely not police issue and flimsy enough that her story could be true. But that still didn’t prove a word she’d said. She could have had her own pair of handcuffs, depending on what kind of games she liked to play, or maybe she’d had a security guard boyfriend at one time.

“You don’t believe me,” she said, disappointment evident in her tone.

“Truthfully, I’m just not sure. But it looks like you believe it.”

She shook her head. “That’s a non-answer. You think I’m a few French fries short of a Happy Meal?”

“I have no idea,” he answered. “But you sure look and sound okay to me,” he said, in what had to be the understatement of the year.

Hannah laughed, but it was a sad laugh, inspired by despair—not mirth. He started to say more, but Wolf’s whine alerted him.

The dog stood on his hind legs, and stared out the window, sniffing the air as he rested his front paws on the sill.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Company’s coming, and I don’t think it’s the sweepstakes prize patrol.”

The off-the-cuff remark reminded him of one of his objectives, and Daniel made a quick visual search of the nearly empty cabin. There was no money to be found there in any readily accessible place. For now, they had to leave. Silentman could send someone to search more thoroughly later.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, taking her hand, and letting the dog lead the way as they slipped out the back door.

Wolf stopped suddenly, then, hackles raised and body low to the ground, crept forward. Daniel knew the move. Someone was close and the dog didn’t see whoever it was as a friend. More than likely, Wolf had scented alcohol, gun powder, or some other substance he’d been trained to recognize as trouble.

“Hurry,” he urged Hannah.

Suddenly two men wearing ski masks and carrying baseball bats stepped out from behind a sandstone boulder. “Hit the trail, Geronimo,” the tall, blue-eyed Anglo said, using a worn-out racist label. Their short-sleeved shirts revealed white, but suntanned skin. “We have unfinished business with the lady but none with you. Come with us, Hannah.”

Hannah looked startled, and stepped back, away from the men.

Wolf was nowhere to be seen, but Daniel knew the dog would be nearby. He’d probably circled around to wait for Daniel’s signal to attack.

“You’re out of your league. Take a hike while you can still walk,” Daniel warned, bracing himself for a fight.

“You want to dance? It’s okay with me. It’s your funeral.” The big man moved toward Daniel like he was stepping up to the plate but, before he was close enough to take a swing, Daniel whistled sharply.

Wolf erupted like a furry explosion from the bushes to Daniel’s right, and hit the big Anglo hard in the side, knocking him to the ground. The bat flew out of the man’s hand as Wolf’s massive jaws gripped his arm. Screaming, the man hammered at the dog with his fist, but Wolf seemed oblivious to it.

Daniel kicked the second man in the chest at the same time Wolf neutralized the first, then delivered another blow to his target’s midsection that knocked him to the ground.

The Anglo fell hard, rolled, then scrambled to his feet, and took off running.

“Out!” Daniel ordered Wolf, who had pinned the taller attacker to the ground. The one-word command caused Wolf to release the man instantly and sit.

The man sprang to his feet and fled, holding his tattered sleeve, now wet with blood. Daniel didn’t pursue them. He had other things to worry about. Going after the men would have been satisfying, but not in line with his primary duty.

Expecting Hannah to have fled during the confusion, he glanced behind him. What he saw took him by complete surprise. Hannah had retrieved the tall man’s baseball bat, and had it cocked back, ready to swing. Her body was trembling so hard, even the bat was shaking as she held it.