Diana Duncan - Bulletproof Bride

The setting sun stretched long gold fingers of warm light across the path by the time they finally reached a log cabin at the top of the bluff. Below, hungry white-capped waves hammered the shore. With a shudder, she jerked her gaze away. “Where are we?”

He unlocked the door. Instead of answering, he waved at a green-and-navy plaid sofa. “Have a seat. I’ll start a fire.”

Perfect. While he was busy, she’d summon help. She didn’t give a rip who he was, or what he was mixed up in, she wanted out. “I’ll make a pot of coffee.”

“Sure. But don’t go climbing out the window. The kitchen overlooks the bluff.” He grinned. “There’s canned soup in the cupboard and bread in the freezer. You didn’t eat in the car. You should get some chow in your stomach.”

Tessa strode into the cozy, spotless kitchen. Red-checked curtains framed the window, accenting the wooden walls and navy-tiled countertops. Her gaze darted around the room, looking for the phone. Oh, no. No phone. Her hopes flatlined. She squared her shoulders. Fine, she’d devise another plan.

She made the coffee and then opened a cupboard. The sight of Road Runner mugs inspired a reluctant smile. The cartoon cups fit Gabe’s mischievous, faster-than-a-speeding-bullet personality to a T.

As she filled his mug, a daring idea hit. Her hand slid inside her pocket and gripped the bottle of anti-nausea pills. Two had knocked her out for several hours. If he ingested enough…

She stood there, the plastic lid cutting an imprint into her clenched palm. What if she accidentally killed him? Drugging him felt like a sneaky, dirty trick. He’d treated her very decently. Get real, woman, the guy kidnapped you. She quickly smashed six tablets and stirred them into his coffee.

In the living room, a cozy fire crackled in the hearth. She couldn’t meet Gabe’s eyes as she handed him the mug. Perching stiffly on a navy chair near the fire, she cradled her own warm drink.

With a contented sigh, he propped his stocking feet on the coffee table. Dressed in a fisherman’s sweater and snug, faded jeans, he looked relaxed and comfortable. And not at all like a bank robber. As he took a sip, guilt pierced her heart and she steeled herself not to flinch. She felt like she’d given him a cup of hemlock. He grimaced. “I wonder how old this coffee is?”

Her gaze jerked sideways to the flickering flames. Would he realize what she’d done?

“You’re still jumpy. You’re not afraid I’ll hurt you?”

“The ocean scares me. You don’t.” In spite of a lingering edge of doubt, some primal instinct deep inside insisted he wouldn’t harm her. After his gallant response to her irrational terror on his boat, she was almost sure of it. Wanted to believe it. However, she had a life to get back to.

Gabe shook his head. “You did go pretty ballistic on me there for a while.” He took several more swigs. “I’m sorry about having to detain you.”

“You don’t have to detain me. I don’t have any interest in whatever skullduggery you’re involved in.”

“Skullduggery? Now there’s a word.” He chuckled before drinking again, then rested his head against the back of the sofa. “Unfortunately, you’re already involved.” He yawned. “I’m starting to fade. I’d better make us some sandwiches.”

No! She had to keep him quiet in order for the medication to kick in. She jumped up. “I’ll do it.”

His dark brows lowered and he flashed her a puzzled look.

“I was going to fix myself something to eat anyway.”

“Go ahead then. And thanks for being such a good sport.” He flashed her one of his heart-stopping smiles. “You’ve held up damn well considering what I’ve put you through.”

Feeling unaccountably like Benedict Arnold, she stalked to the kitchen.

The snap and crackle of the fire was the only sound in the cabin as she made a tuna sandwich and carried it to the small table near the window. Chewing slowly, she managed to draw out her meager meal. Twenty minutes later, she poked a cautious head through the doorway.

Gabe lay stretched out on the couch, the mug still clutched in one hand. His sooty lashes rested against his cheeks and his full lips were parted. He was motionless, not even appearing to breathe.

Had she given him too many pills? Her stomach flip-flopped. Pulse racing, she stared at his broad chest until she saw the rise and fall of his deep, rhythmic breaths. “Gabe?” she whispered.

He didn’t move.

“Gabe?”

Still no response.

She tiptoed across the room, and then carefully turned the doorknob. The door swung open with a slight creak. She stepped across the threshold.

“Don’t leave me!” Gabe begged, his voice husky with anguish.

Her heart rocketed into her throat. She whirled.

Still asleep, but restless, he flung out his arm and the empty mug fell to the rug. Heart pounding, she stood frozen until her muscles cramped, waiting for him to resettle into deep slumber. Finally, she crept outside.

“No!” he cried. “Please don’t go!”

A choking lump lodged in her throat. Who was he pleading with in his dream world?

Her chest tight, she eased the door closed and crept out into the darkness—feeling oddly as if she had left something precious behind.

Enveloped in blackness, Tessa paused. The ocean roared on her left, loud in the quiet night. She turned in the opposite direction and broke into a run. Blindly, she stumbled through the woods, clawing aside rough branches and wet leaves. Finally her burning lungs grew unbearable and a stitch caught in her side. Gasping in the damp air, she clutched her aching ribs and slowed to a walk.

The night closed around her like a predator cornering his prey. An eerie screech rang out, echoed through the fog-shrouded forest. The hairs on her arms prickled. The bushes beside her rustled, and she swallowed a scream. Gabe’s advice to focus on something else popped into her mind.

She hummed “Don’t Be Cruel” as her thoughts spun. Gabe—what a puzzle. Even when she’d tossed her cookies in his car and whacked him with the door during her escape attempt, he’d kept his good humor. And when she’d been terrified in the boat, he’d comforted her with a story about his foster mom. And a tender, calming kiss.

Obviously, he’d been in the juvenile care system, not always the best environment. His foster mom sounded loving, though. What had caused the flash of anguish in his eyes? And to whom was he crying out in his sleep? Her heart contracted at the memory of his desperate plea.

The irony of the situation struck her and a grim smile tightened her mouth. Not only had she taken the advice of a man she was running away from, thoughts of him provided the distraction that kept her panic at bay.

Suddenly, pain exploded in her forehead. Reeling backward, she plopped down in the damp grass. Brilliant stars crackled in front of her dazed eyes. She blinked, peering upward into the darkness. The twisted shape of a low-hanging branch loomed above her. She must have smacked into a tree limb.

Tessa gingerly explored the swelling knot on her forehead. It wasn’t bleeding, but the throbbing sting made tears stream from her eyes. She clenched her teeth against a whimper. Throwing a pity party wouldn’t accomplish a thing. The only way out was to keep going. She blinked again and then clambered to her feet. Shivers crawled up her spine, and she wrapped her arms around her middle. Warily peering into the gloom for any more of Mother Nature’s ambushes, she doggedly put one foot in front of the other.

Hours of cold, lonely progress later, she stumbled out of the smothering thicket of trees and onto a highway. The long ribbon of asphalt loomed black and empty. On a guess, she turned right and kept trudging, praying she was headed toward a town.