Mountain Hideaway

Trent.

Of course he’d been watching her. He’d probably just been waiting for her to run. But why was he drawing this out? Why didn’t he just kill her while he had the chance?

Unless there were other motivations at play.

Did he plan to torture her? Find out how much she knew? Whom she might have told? Where she might have hidden any documents she’d kept as proof of what Leo’s family had been doing?

The thought caused a new surge of panic in her.

She pushed herself from the tree and hobbled forward. Kept moving. What other choice did she have?

She tried to keep her eyes on the ground, to watch her steps. But it was so dark out here. There were so many trees and so much underbrush.

“I won’t let you out of my sight, you know,” the man called.

She looked behind her again and spotted Trent. He walked toward her, his actions measured and controlled. He wasn’t even panting with exertion as he took long strides her way. Meanwhile, her legs kept pumping as she tried to keep pace.

Fabulous.

“Just leave me alone!” she mumbled.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Tessa.”

“You can’t prove that.” She stopped trying to run. Even though she’d been jogging every day and trying to build up both her strength and endurance, the upward climb on the mountain was doing a number on her legs and lungs. Her ankles throbbed. Her lungs refused to get enough oxygen to fill them.

She’d done a lot of things in preparation for a moment just like this—shooting lessons, working out, reading survival guides and forming emergency procedures. All of her planning seemed to disappear into a haze, though.

Fear and exhaustion did terrible things to people; the emotion robbed them of any security. It didn’t seem as if that long ago she’d been confident and self-reliant and living her dream life. Today she was always looking over her shoulder, questioning every move and second-guessing every decision.

How had an ordinary girl living an ordinary life somehow turned into this? This wasn’t supposed to happen. She should still be at home with her family. Still working in the art museum. Back then, life had seemed so safe and comfortable. What she wouldn’t give to go back and return to the way it used to be.

That wasn’t an option, though. She had to keep fighting. She couldn’t let her enemies win.

Speaking of enemies, Trent was getting closer—close enough to grab her.

Suddenly, some kind of survival instinct took over. Adrenaline surged in her, giving her a strength she didn’t know she had. She sprinted through the darkness.

Don’t let him catch you.

“Being out here isn’t safe, Tessa,” Trent continued. “Let’s talk this out.”

She rounded a bend of trees and, before she knew what was happening, the ground crumbled beneath her.

She desperately grabbed the air, trying to find anything possible to grip on to as she slid downward. Failure meant she’d slip to her death, hundreds of feet to the river below.

It was too late: her life flashed before her eyes.

* * *

“Tessa!” Trent saw Tessa disappear, and panic engulfed him. He charged toward her, no longer fearful of jolting her into doing something stupid. She’d already done that.

He rushed toward the decline and peered down, expecting the worst. His heart slowed, but only temporarily. There she was, hanging on to a tree root, her eyes wide with despair.

“I’m going to get you up, Tessa. Just hold tight.” He dropped to his stomach, trying to secure himself so he could grab her.

She moaned, her eyes squeezing shut. “Why don’t you just kill me now? Why are you drawing this out and pretending to be a good guy?”

He grabbed her wrist. “I am a good guy.”

“You’ve fooled me once. Not again.” She refused to let go of the root she held on to.

What was she talking about? This wasn’t really the time to argue. This was the time to get her to safety. “Let me help you. Then you can ask me whatever it is you want.”

“You work for Leo McAllister.”

His muscles tightened from the strain of trying to grab her, of trying to make sure her grip didn’t slip and send her plunging to her death. “Leo has been worried about you. He put up a monetary reward for your return. But I’m not working for him.”

“What?” Her voice sounded breathless.

Her wrist slipped. He needed a better grip and a little cooperation from her or they’d both end up tumbling down the mountainside. “I’d be happy to chat more in a minute. Right now, I need to make sure you don’t die.”

“Stop playing games—”

Before she could argue anymore, he grabbed her arm with both of his hands and heaved her onto the ledge. She landed beside him, and they both sprawled backward onto the hard rock beneath them. Silence fell between them as they each sucked in air.

That had been close. Too close.

Trent willed his heart to slow, but his adrenaline was still pumping at the close call. With one more deep breath, he propped himself up on one elbow and turned toward Tessa. “Why would you think I’m working for Leo?”

She cringed as if in pain but still managed to scowl. She pushed herself up also, rubbing her wrist as if it was sore. “One of the paintings from his gallery is hanging in that cabin.”

“If I understand correctly, the paintings from his galleries are sold all over the world. Prints of them are sold all over the world. I do know that much.”

“It’s too big of a coincidence.”

“There is such thing in life as a coincidence, darling. That’s what this is. I’m not working for Leo or his family. I take it that would be a bad thing if I were?”

She stared into the distance, resting her arms on her knees. “I’ve already said too much.”

“What’s it going to take for you to trust me?” He peered at her, trying to get a better look at her face in the deep blackness of the forest.

“The only person I can rely on is myself.”

“Your mom is Florence. She loves lilacs, makes the world’s best chicken Parmesan and she has your eyes. Your sister looks more like your dad, who died of cancer five years ago. He was a good man. Quiet, a hard worker and he could build anything out of wood.”

Tears glistened in her eyes. Finally, some of her walls were coming down. He was able to see beyond her facade, and the woman lurking there was broken, scared and alone.

A fierce surge of protectiveness rose in him.