BLACK WIDOW (Book #1 of The Black Widow Series) Page 17

  My heart stopped. I tried to lunge for the man, but my feet felt like they'd sprouted roots. The air, which felt crisp with the promise of rain before, was too thick and heavy to breathe now.

  The moan that crawled up the side of the mountain was the encouragement my feet needed to move. I backed myself over the edge, repeating her name over and over as I dropped to the ground below. Slowly, I made my way to her, bracing myself against one tree after another until I could squat in front of her.

  I pushed her hair away from her face. Her eyes fluttered open, and she shrunk away from me like a scared animal. “Don’t touch me!” Her voice was shrill.

  My chest constricted. She thought I’d done this to her. I raised my hands in surrender. “I didn’t—” I started.

  “You did! You pushed me!” She wrapped her arms around her legs and pulled herself into a ball. She glowered at me with hot, angry eyes.

  “Celeste, no. It wasn’t me. There was a man. He pushed me into you.” I needed her to hear me and believe me. I looked up at the ledge as if he might still be standing there to confirm my story.

  Her eyes followed the path mine had, and she shook her head. Then they widened as if she understood. “He put you up to this.”

  “No, I don’t know him. I saw him this morning having breakfast in the lodge. He was alone, and I smiled at him as we were leaving. He passed us on the trail on the way up. Do you remember a man dressed in khaki hiking gear?” I begged her to remember.

  When she didn’t say anything, I raked my hands through my hair. “I recognized him from before. He was at the convenience store in Utica. He was watching you then, too. Do you know why someone would do this?”

  She blinked at me and chewed her cheek as she seemed to consider what I was saying. Her shoulders suddenly sagged, and she let out a heart-wrenching wail.

  I sat down beside her and pulled her into my arms. She heaved against me. I stroked her hair and whispered the miracles I could count in her ear. She was alive. It would be okay. I would take care of her.

  When the tears had stopped, I inspected her piece by piece. Gently picking up one arm and then the other, I twisted and turned each to look for bruises or breaks. Her ponytail was crooked. The white T-shirt she wore was torn at the neck and streaked with dirt. But other than the knot forming on her forehead and scratches on her arms and legs, I didn't find any wounds.

  “I’m going to call for help,” I said, pulling my phone out. I held my breath as I waited for the call to go through. If I got any signal, I would count that as another miracle.

  After a few very long seconds, it began to ring. Luke answered right away and immediately launched into a story about how he and Sierra had been caught in the storm near the lake. I looked upward, and fat, angry raindrops hit my face. I hadn’t even noticed the rain had started. I pulled Celeste closer to shield her from it.

  I cut Luke off mid-sentence and launched into an abridged version of what had happened. I described the man, his clothing, and his car. I explained where the outlet of the trail was. Prompted by the urgency in my voice, Luke was already moving. A door slammed. His breath became more labored as he ran. "He's here, but he's too far ahead of me," Luke said. "He's running for his car. Dammit."

  I commanded Luke to run faster and not to lose him.

  Luke went silent for a few seconds. "He's gone, but I got his plates.”

  “He got away?” Celeste asked after I hung up. She’d gone rigid in my arms again, and I worried she was back to thinking I’d made it up.

  “Luke got his license plate. We’ll find him.”

  She tipped her chin up and stared directly into the rain. "I was looking up at the sky, and then I was just … falling …”

  “We’ll get him, Celeste. Luke’s already calling the state police and then he’s coming for us.”

  She nodded. “It’s really coming down. Chase always did have terrible timing." The corners of her mouth pulled into a tiny smile.

  "A little help here would be nice," I called out to the sky.

  Her smile grew, and the sight of it filled me with relief. "I think I have to be the one to ask," she said. “But I don’t think I want it to stop.”

  "How's your head?" I asked. "You've got a knot.” I pointed at her forehead, though I knew she could probably feel it.

  She blinked her eyes a few times. "I feel foggy. Fuzzy."

  "Are you going to pass out?" I needed to keep her awake. I needed to get her to a doctor.

  She shook her head slowly. "I’m trying to push it away." She lay her head and a hand on my chest. "I’m sorry I accused you before.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t catch you.” I hadn't protected her. I’d let my guard down and let the man use me as a weapon to push her over the edge. His face flashed behind my eyes and surge of heat flushed over me. I would find him and make him pay for this. I closed my eyes and could picture him there, his eyes bulging as I held him over the edge of the same cliff he’d pushed Celeste over. He’d wish he’d given me more than a warning.

  “I’m so tired.” Celeste’s voice pulled me away from the vile thoughts and back to her. Her eyes fluttered shut, and I unclenched my fists to brush the back of my fingers gently across her cheek.

  "No sleeping, Celeste."

  She shook her head. "No sleeping," she repeated. "I’m not going anywhere."

  I nodded. "That's right. Stay here with me. Tell me a story.” If she was talking, she was still awake.

  She forced her eyes open and looked around the landscape. "I had a bunny once,” she began in a small voice. “I caught it in the backyard and begged Momma to let me keep it, but my dad hated animals in the house. I put it in the bathtub anyway and waited for him to get home so I could ask."

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a movement in the nearby brush and saw the animal who’d inspired Celeste’s story watching us curiously.

  "Did he let you keep it?" I asked.

  She shook her head, her eyes still on the rabbit. "No. He asked me if I'd touched it. Of course, I had. I was the one who’d caught it and brought it into the house.” She took a deep breath. “He told me I’d contaminated it and the momma rabbit wouldn't want anything to do with it anymore. It was going to die."

  My mouth pulled into a hard line. It was a terrible thing to tell a child who thought she was doing something good.

  "He put it in a box and took it to our neighbors' house."

  "And your neighbors kept it?" I asked. "Did you get to visit it?"

  "I went over to their house a few days later to see it. I never liked him much, but his wife was the sweetest old lady. She used to make me cookies. I asked to see my bunny, but he just laughed at me and said, 'You want to see your rabbit? Hang on.' And then he pulled out a bag of meat from the freezer. I ran away.”

  Horrified, I looked down at her. "Good Lord, Celeste. That's a terrible story. How old were you?"

  "Seven," she said.

  Growing up, I remember the front door of our house being a revolving door for pets. My brother and I had dragged home whatever we found in the neighborhood. Mice and rats and even a garter snake once. My sister, with her more feminine sensibilities, had carried home stray cats and puppies by the armloads. Except for a dirty old rat, I couldn’t remember my dad ever turning one away. I didn’t trust a man who didn’t like animals.

  "But now, you have Bear," I said, wanting her to replace the rabbit story with something good.

  She sighed wistfully and smiled. "Yes, I have Bear."

  Maybe it was because I’d watched her be hurtled over the side of the mountain. Or because she was now tucked into my arms. Maybe it was because she'd just shared a horrible, traumatic story about her childhood, but she seemed more child than woman as I tightened my arms around her.

  "I bet if you kissed me, I'd stay awake,” she said, reminding me otherwise.

  I conceded to her wish, only because it had once been the most romantic spot on earth, and I wanted her to remember it that way.r />
  She'd been asleep for hours. I woke her every hour on the hour just to make sure she could. Each time, she'd looked at me groggily, smiled, and slipped back away.

  Outside, it was raining again. Oddly enough, the storm had hit almost the very second I'd carried her through the door of our new cabin and hadn't stopped since. Watching the deluge through the window, I thought about Celeste's theory regarding the weather. I’d oblige her belief that Chase controlled the weather because I sensed it gave her peace. But I had my own theory. I was pretty sure it was Celeste’s smile that commanded the sun and it wouldn’t show itself again until she was ready.

  Then again, maybe those first few drops we’d felt while we were still on the path had been a warning from Chase. I was certain of one thing. The man had intentionally pushed me into her. The raw determination in his eyes as he'd barreled into me was all I could think about.

  The officer who’d interviewed Celeste had seemed devoted enough, but I wasn't waiting for the state police to do a job I could do myself. The state park might be in his jurisdiction, but protecting Celeste was now mine. Her safety was now my primary concern, and I was second-guessing everything, even reconsidering the kid from the train and whether he’d had more sinister motives than just taking her purse. When we returned home, I would pay him a visit and find out.

  I realized now that having Luke on the trip was a blessing. Without him, we wouldn't have gotten the plate numbers off the man's car. We would have had nothing concrete to give the police. Celeste and I might still be sitting on the side of the cliff waiting for rescue.

  And thanks to Trevor, I now had a name to go with the face. He’d said he would do anything to help me, and I put his offer to the test. As soon as Celeste had fallen asleep, I’d called him. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about it, but the question of whether I would reach out to him had been an easy one to answer. And he’d come through, delivering Burris’s name and arrest record in minutes. He’d even done a drive-by of Burris’s house in Englewood earlier this evening.

  Now, all we could do was wait for Burris to resurface.

  I put down the book in my hand, picked up my phone, and willed it to ring with news. The black screen continued to mock me. I tossed it on the bed beside me and looked over at Celeste.

  Her dark hair fanned out across the pillow. Even with the now purple goose egg on her forehead, she was still beautiful. The sun had been warm and hot before the clouds had rolled in, and she wore a bit of it on her cheeks now. It was a welcome sight, considering how pale she’d been when I’d first put her to bed.

  Her chest rose and fell under the quilt as I studied her. It was a wonder her injuries weren't worse. I still worried I should've insisted on taking her to the hospital, but she'd been adamant she didn't need to go. Since her eyes didn't show any signs of a concussion and she hadn't gotten sick to her stomach, I'd given in. But the longer she slept, the more I worried that it had been a bad decision on my part.

  At some point, Luke and Sierra had brought me some dinner. Sierra placed it on the table in the corner with apologetic eyes and sat with Celeste while Luke and I stepped out onto the porch to discuss the plan I’d come up with.

  “Are you ready to talk about it now?” he asked.

  “What?” I asked, handing him my driver’s license and credit cards.

  He shoved mine into his wallet and handed me his. We were too somber to even make a joke about the illegalities of what we were doing. “The reason you like this woman.”

  I scanned the trees surrounding the cabin for any movement. “Because she’s intelligent and beautiful?” I asked, though I knew that was not where he was going with this.

  He shook his head. “And because she needs saving.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  He turned to me. “Don’t play stupid, Scott, because I know that somewhere in that twisted head of yours, you’ve already figured it out. How many times have you saved her now?”

  I scrubbed a hand down my face. “Three.”

  “Three times in five days.” As if to settle in for a nice long conversation, he leaned against the side of the cabin. “Listen, if you don’t want to tell me what happened in Chicago, fine. But you’ve been teetering on the edge ever since. I know that case got to you. Lord knows, I know why, but I’m worried about you. First, you quit your job and run off to the ‘burbs. And now, you’re doing things that seem completely out of character.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him but couldn’t deny it.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “With all of the crazy shit that’s happening to you—the apartment, the motorcycle, and the money—you still just walked away from it all to come on this little trip. Now, you want to whisk her off to somewhere else, and you’re willing to break every law along the way.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “You told me she was my kind of crazy. You encouraged me to go for it.”

  He managed a smile. “And I’m not discouraging you now. I just want you to recognize why you’re doing it and keep your wits about you. I don’t want you doing something stupid that can’t be undone later.”

  I harrumphed, but it was just for show. If he knew the illegal things that had led me to this point, I was sure he wouldn’t be standing beside me now. And, as I scanned the woods for any sign that someone was watching us, I felt incredibly lucky to have him standing beside me even if he was chewing my ass and forcing me to face something I’d been purposely avoiding.

  “Everyday Heroes couldn’t have picked a more heroic recipient of their award, if that’s what it is,” he continued. “There’s never been a man more deserving than you. I fear there’s no length you won’t go to save a woman or a child in danger. Your need to protect is legendary and almost obsessive, but we both know where it comes from. Hell, you married a woman and wasted twelve years of your life out of a sense of guilt and obligation. Now, you’re willing to commit credit card fraud and hide away in a city with a woman you barely know.”

  “If you’re not comfortable with it, I’ll find another way,” I said, reaching for my back pocket again.

  He grabbed my arm and stopped me. “No. I’ll do anything you ask of me—anything at all. I just want you to recognize that this hero complex of yours runs deep and wide and Celeste—I like her. I really do—but she feeds it. She’s got a vulnerability about her that I’m afraid speaks to some dark side of your soul. Just keep that in mind, will ya?”

  I nodded, and he slid his hand up to my shoulder and squeezed it in a way that made me wonder briefly which one of us was the wiser, older brother.

  He slid his arm around my shoulders in a half hug and then turned to the cabin door. “I’ve got your back. Just remember that, okay?” he said, as he opened it.

  Our conversation weighed heavily on me after he and Sierra went back to their cabin. Reactively, I took care of some of my own personal business while Celeste continued to sleep. I called my parents again and made sure that appointments were being made on their end. And then I did another fruitless search on my phone for Everyday Heroes. When that didn’t get me anywhere, I looked up the address for the courier company in Chicago.

  Eventually, I ran out of tasks to busy myself and my eyes fell again on the mysterious woman sleeping next to me. She was curled onto her side, her hands tucked under her cheek. With the bruises coloring her face, the vulnerability my brother had spoken of was never more apparent.

  HER

  "What's that you're reading, hater of books?" My voice was gravelly with sleep. I peeled my eyes open wider. "Oh my God, is that …" A laugh burst out of me.

  Scott had propped himself against a pile of pillows over the headboard. I lay flush against his side, one leg kicked over him.

  He glanced down at me and shrugged. "It's actually not too bad."

  I snorted and rose up on one arm. "You do realize you're reading a filthy romance novel, right?"

  "Someone told me it's actual literature." His mouth curled into the deliciou
s half-smirk I was beginning to adore. "I have to admit I can see why. I'm starting to understand why you ladies find this appealing." His forehead wrinkled. "And where you get your dirty mouth."

  If he only knew. I supposed I would have to tell him someday.

  His expression morphed into one of concern. "How do you feel?"

  I pulled myself into a sitting position. "Better than I should, I think. All things considered."

  I scooted myself to the side of the bed and swung my feet to the floor. I could feel his eyes on my back as I tried out my legs.

  Wondering what time it was, I turned and looked for the digital clock I knew I'd find on the nightstand. Except for the king-size bed, the room was identical to the one we'd stayed in the night before. The bright red digital numbers announced it was after one o'clock.

  My mouth dropped open. "Why are you still awake?"

  He laid Week with a Stranger on the bed beside him, careful not to lose his page. "There was a chance you had a concussion, so I've been waking you every hour just in case. Do you remember talking about that?"

  I nodded and looked at the clock again. “It’s been longer than twelve hours, though, I think.”

  "I was at a good spot."

  "In the book?"

  He cocked his head, his baby blues sparkling. "Don't tease me, woman. I had hours to kill here and lost interest in my phone after about two." His eyes darkened as he watched me walk to the dresser with some effort. “We need to talk about what happened, Celeste.”

  I turned my back to him and dug through my bag. I found my pills and, with my hands still hidden inside the confines of the bag, unscrewed the lid. I poured out two—maybe, three, who could hardly blame me under the circumstances?—and popped them into my mouth. I forced a smile as I turned and noted his laser-like focus on my throat as I swallowed.