Czytaj książkę: «A Silent Pursuit»
Ian had envied Mario for a long time, but finally had given up fighting his feelings and had requested a transfer to a different base so he wouldn’t run into Ian and Gina together.
Not that he begrudged his friend’s happiness; Ian just had a hard time controlling the ache in his heart every time he saw Gina’s smile.
He’d done the unthinkable.
He’d fallen in love with a committed woman…his best friend’s future wife.
So Ian had left. Run from her and his feelings, honor and integrity more important than his own selfish longings. It was the only way he’d be able to live with himself.
Now, she was calling him for help.
Someone had tried to kill her.
Like she believed someone had killed Mario.
MILLS & BOON
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LYNETTE EASON
grew up in Greenville, SC. Her home church, Northgate Baptist, had a tremendous influence on her during her early years. She credits Christian parents and dedicated Sunday School teachers for her acceptance of Christ at the tender age of eight. Even as a young girl, she knew she wanted her life to reflect the love of Jesus.
Lynette attended the University of South Carolina in Columbia, then moved to Spartanburg to attend Converse College, where she obtained her master’s degree in education. During that time, she met the boy next door, Jack Eason, and married him. Jack is the Executive Director of the Sound of Light Ministries. Lynette and Jack have two precious children: Lauryn, eight years old, and Will, who is six. She and Jack are members of New Life Baptist Fellowship Church in Boiling Springs, SC, where Jack serves as the worship leader and Lynette teaches Sunday School to the four-and five-year-olds.
A Silent Pursuit
Lynette Eason
I long to dwell in your tent forever and take refuge in the shelter of your wings.
—Psalms 61:4
Dedicated to my daughter, Lauryn, who is growing up
so fast. You’re just beginning an exciting journey to discover the amazing plans God has for your life. Live
each moment for Him. I’m so proud of you, sweetie!
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
“Stop!” The voice shouted behind her, spurring speed to her already-flying feet. Stop?
Not if she wanted to live.
Rasping breaths escaped Gina Santino’s throat as her bare feet pounded hard sand. She squinted into the inky darkness and her heart drummed in her ears, drowning out the sound of the waves crashing onto the beach.
She could almost imagine the breath of her pursuer on the nape of her neck. A hand reaching out to spin her around…
Goose bumps puckered her skin, but fear and adrenaline heated her body; sweat beaded her forehead.
The waves pulsed beside her as she stayed near the edge of the water, desperate to stay out of reach of the lights along the upper end of the sand.
Multicolored lights announcing the fast-approaching Christmas season were strung from the roof of the public beach–access restroom and briefly illuminated part of her path.
Long dark hair whipped into her eyes, blinding her as terror threatened to knock the strength from her legs. Her large antique locket bounced against her throat, matching the frantic beat of her pulse beneath it.
How had they found her? She’d been so careful. Yes, she’d left her house in a rush, but she’d driven a crazy route that had her arriving at the beach house two hours later than the direct approach would have.
And they’d still found her. Her mind cramped at the possibilities as she flung a frantic look over her shoulder.
Was that a shadow? Were they still chasing her?
Of course they were.
Fear-induced adrenaline added wings to her fleeing bare feet.
Oh, Mario, I need you!
But Mario, her fiancé, was dead. Killed six months ago when a bomb exploded during a routine army training exercise.
Or so she’d been told. Who knew what the real story was? And now she was facing the holidays, Thanksgiving and Christmas, without him.
Of course, that was the least of her worries right now.
Driftwood crowded her path, and she jumped over another fallen piece of debris that had washed in at high tide.
Stumbling, she went to one knee, her momentum propelling her into the sand, rolling her over twice before she could push herself back up. Ignoring her screaming, sand-burned knee and oxygen-deprived lungs, she regained her balance, pumping her legs back up to full speed.
She couldn’t keep running, not at this pace.
But she sure couldn’t slow down.
He—they?—would kill her this time.
Please, God.
Her eyes darted, desperately seeking a hiding place. Shivers danced on her overheated skin as the freezing wind blew.
Up ahead, a light flickered. Someone walking toward her? She skidded to a halt, gasping, panting, sucking in much-needed oxygen; her knee throbbing a reminder that she needed to find a place to hide.
The light bobbed closer. Friend or foe? Had they surrounded her? Surely they couldn’t have gotten in front of her. But then she wouldn’t have guessed they would have been able to show up on her doorstep either.
What do I do, God? What do I do?
The safety of her little cottage lay approximately two miles behind her. Thank goodness she’d taken up running every morning for the last year. If not, she’d never have made it this far.
The light flickered, then disappeared.
A split-second decision had her making a sharp right to trudge through the softer sand. She didn’t even have a cell phone. But the little diner just up the road would have a phone and she could call for help.
If she could get there.
A gunshot rang out, and Gina flinched when it hit the ground in front of her.
A warning shot.
That told her one thing. They wanted her alive.
And that scared her more than the thought that they might want her dead. She double-timed her struggle through the sand, praying that whoever was chasing her was having the same problems. Finally, her feet hit asphalt.
Another gunshot. She cringed, expecting at any moment to feel the pain of a bullet entering her body. She pressed on.
She needed a phone.
She needed help.
Where was Ian?
Ian Masterson pressed his foot to the gas pedal. He’d promised Gina he’d be there at 9:00 p.m. It was now 11:45 p.m. and the darkness pressed in on his windshield like dirt on top of a coffin. She’d called him yesterday and asked him to meet her at the beach house. He didn’t have to ask for directions. Gina’s cousin, Antonio Santino; her late fiancé, Mario Anthony; and he, Ian Masterson, had been the Three Musketeers.
Best friends and fellow U.S. Army Rangers—no three men had a tighter friendship. Until Ian moved away. Then Mario had died and Antonio had flown off to Iraq on a mission. Ian was home for the moment and would be until Gina’s troubles were resolved.
But he’d been held up on the way to meet her. He’d had to request emergency personal leave to get out of a last-minute assignment in Pakistan. Fortunately, a buddy with another unit had volunteered to go in his place.
Ian owed him big time.
Only now he was almost three hours later than he’d said he’d be, and Gina wasn’t answering her phone.
He didn’t like the thoughts crowding his mind.
Punching her speed dial button one more time, he offered up a prayer on her behalf.
Her voice mail clicked on again. He hung up and clenched his teeth. What were you working on, Mario, that’s put Gina in danger?
She hadn’t told him much when she’d called yesterday morning asking him to meet her. Just that some men had tried to kill her when she’d walked in on them tearing her house apart in Spartanburg, South Carolina. Now, she’d fled to the coast and trouble had followed her.
His gut clenched as he pictured her face. Dark hair, with upturned black eyes that hinted at Asian ancestry somewhere back in the Italian family line. He clearly remembered those eyes, which hid her innermost thoughts but could flash with compassion or laughter at the drop of a hat. The next-to-the-last time he’d seen her had been about eight months ago, when he’d stopped in to see his old commanding officer and had overheard her in the hallway. She’d been moaning about losing weight so she could fit into the wedding dress she wanted. She hadn’t known he was there. He’d left as quietly as he’d arrived.
The last time he’d seen her had been at Mario’s funeral.
She’d lost the weight.
Ian’s fingers clenched the steering wheel. His molars ground together as he remembered Gina’s devastation at the funeral. He’d gone to her and offered her a hug, but her stares were like daggers cutting through him, the accusation clear in her liquid-chocolate eyes.
She might as well have shouted the words, “If you’d been here, he wouldn’t have died.”
But she didn’t, just hunched her shoulders against her grief and walked away.
And caused Ian a fresh bout of crippling pain.
Ian had envied Mario for a long time but finally had given up fighting his feelings and had requested a transfer to a different base so he wouldn’t run into the two of them together. Not that he begrudged his friend’s happiness; Ian just had a hard time controlling the ache in his heart every time he saw Gina’s smile. The way she tilted her head to the left when she really listened to what you were saying. Or the way she pulled her hair back into a long ponytail that revealed her slender neck. He’d watched her pulse beat there one time and had to leave the restaurant they were in because of his overwhelming feelings for her.
He’d done the unthinkable.
He’d fallen in love with a committed woman.
His best friend’s future wife.
So, Ian had left. Run from it and his feelings, honor and integrity more important than his own selfish desires. It was the only way he’d been able to live with himself.
Now she was calling him for help.
Someone had tried to kill her.
Like she believed someone had killed Mario.
His cell rang and he punched the button. “Hello?”
“Ian?” Short breaths rang over the line, as if she was out of breath. Relief flooded him at the sound of her voice, his protective instinct kicking into high gear at the thought of her in danger. “It’s me. Gina.”
“I know who you are. Are you all right?” he demanded.
“No,” a hitch in her voice clamped hard on his heart. “Someone’s still after me. I’m at the diner on 17.” She didn’t have to explain which one; he’d been there enough times with Mario. “Can you pick me up there? How far away are you?”
“Stay put,” he said. “I’m about three minutes from you.”
“Oh, thank you,” she breathed. He could almost taste the fear flowing from her as she whispered, “Hurry.”
His foot pressed the pedal harder. He’d told her he was three minutes away. He’d do his best to make it in ninety seconds.
TWO
Gina hung up the pay phone and, ignoring the occasional strange look from the diner patrons, scurried to the window. Her breath still came in pants although she’d recovered from her run. It was the terror still quaking through her that stole the air from her lungs. She’d been so careful. How had they found her?
Probably her cell phone. They’d obviously tracked her with no problem and had, no doubt, laughed all the way up the highway.
Mario, what were you up to? What did you hide? And where did you hide it? Who were you hiding it from? I don’t even know if you were one of the good guys now.
Tears clogged her throat at the betraying thought. But she didn’t let them fall. She never would have thought he’d do something to put her in danger, and yet by dying, he’d apparently done just that. It had taken six months, but obviously he’d led the trail straight to her.
Headlights flashed in the parking lot.
Bad guys or Ian?
She looked at the clock on the wall. About a minute and a half had passed. The lights flashed once more. Then again.
Ian.
She bolted out the door into the drizzle, which had started the minute she’d entered the restaurant. Her bare feet slapped the wooden porch, then the steps. The door opened from the inside.
Throwing herself into the passenger seat, she slammed the door just as a bullet pierced the windshield to bury itself in the backseat.
Ian hissed, put a hand on her head and shoved her down in the seat. “Hold on!”
“I’m so sorry I had to drag you into this,” she squealed.
“We’ll get to that later.” He threw the gearshift lever into Reverse and screeched from the parking lot. Another bullet hit the back windshield and shattered it.
Glass flew.
Ian drove.
Gina prayed.
It seemed like hours, but in reality, according to the dash clock, only seven minutes had passed since the last bullet.
“I think I lost them.” He grunted and turned left.
She pushed herself into a sitting position, brushing stray bits of glass from her legs and hair, careful not to cut herself. Turning to the man beside her, she gasped, “You have perfect timing.”
“Actually, I was running late due to an unforeseen circumstance with my commander, but I’m here now and you’re in more trouble than you let on.”
“When I called you, I didn’t know how bad they wanted me.”
“Why call me? Why not the cops?”
“Because they’ll just turn it over to the army.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“It is if there’s a traitor on the base.”
That shut him up. Then he asked, “Who?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that Mario died during a training exercise. At least that’s what I was told. Who really knows what happened?” Sarcasm dripped. “But if that’s the case, then someone set him up.”
“How do you figure?”
She remained silent for moment.
“Gina?”
“I don’t have any proof. Just a gut feeling. And I know you’ll think that’s crazy, but someone has tried to kill me twice, so I’m leaning on trusting my gut at this point in time.”
This time he paused as he glanced in the rearview mirror, then the side. “Sometimes your gut’s the only thing worth trusting.”
Tears flooded her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I don’t know what Mario had that these people want. I mean, I’m just a real estate agent from a small town in South Carolina who happened to fall in love with a guy who had a lot of secrets—ones he didn’t bother sharing with me. Or couldn’t share. Who knows? I don’t know anything except that they think I have whatever it is they’re after. Which means I need to figure out what it is and find it before they find me. And I think I need your help to do that.” The words spilled from her in one breath. She finally paused and drew in some air.
“I would say you’re on the right track.” He gave her a gentle smile, and for the first time since her mad dash into the car, she noticed his rugged good looks. She’d always thought him a handsome man, had actually been attracted to him, but had been so committed to Mario, she’d ignored those feelings.
Tonight they returned with a rush.
Wow.
Immediately, she felt guilty. As if she’d just betrayed Mario in some way. It must be the terror-induced adrenaline spiking her senses into hyperawareness. She looked away.
Forcing her thoughts to focus on the important thing—like getting away from a killer—she said, “I had to slip out of a back window at the beach house. I’ve got nothing on me. I don’t know whether to go back to the house and try to get my stuff or have my parents wire me some money. I’m sure they’re already worried enough. I don’t want to add putting them in any kind of danger.”
He placed a hand over hers. “I’ve got you covered. Let’s find a safe place to hole up and hash out what just happened. Then we can worry about other necessities.”
Ian found a little out-of-the-way hotel room and asked for two rooms. Gina stood beside him, shivering, her bare feet probably frozen. He had one person in mind to call whom he trusted, no questions asked. Jason Sutton. A man whose skills as a Ranger had saved Ian’s hide on more than one occasion. A onetime fellow Ranger in the same unit Ian and Mario had served in and a good friend to them both, Jase would come through for him—he hoped.
Finally, they made it to the rooms. Gina entered hers and Ian followed her in. He chose the desk chair, while Gina sat at the table, hands clasped in front of her. Wild dark curls had found freedom from the pink scrunchy that now encircled the lower portion of a ponytail gone bad. She didn’t seem to notice.
“First,” he said as he set his bag in the second chair, “I’ve called my sister, Carly. She’s a U.S. marshal who’s going to come stay with you tonight to protect you while I focus on looking for the guys who just tried to kill us. The faster I’m able to get on this, the faster we’ll figure it out. Now, the marshals aren’t officially on this case, you understand? She’s just doing this because I asked and should be here in a few minutes. But for now tell me everything you can, Gina. Who’s after you?”
She lifted burdened shoulders. “I don’t know, Ian. All I know is that they want something and haven’t found it, yet.”
“Which means they’ll keep coming back until they do.”
She grimaced, rose and walked to the sink. The sound of running water reached his ears, as did the crinkle of plastic covering being torn from a glass. She filled the tumbler and took a long drink.
Sighing, she placed the glass by the sink and paced back to the table. She looked him in the eye. “You knew Mario. Probably better than anyone. He trusted you enough to order me to contact you should something happen to him—and weird things start happening to me. Someone tried to kill me—not once, but twice.” She held up two fingers for emphasis. “I’d say that qualifies as weird enough. You’re here. Now what?”
Nothing like being put on the spot.
Ian stood and paced from one end of the room to the other. Then he turned and said, “Tell me about the first time someone tried to kill you.”
She shuddered and his heart pinched at the distress on her pretty face. A face strained and drawn with the stress that had become her life. “Not my favorite topic of conversation.”
“Come on. I need to hear the details.” He gestured toward the other chair and said, “Have a seat.”
Gina rubbed her eyes, gathered her strength and started. “I had just gotten home from work, having closed on a great house. Everything had gone smoothly, and I was feeling better than I had in months. When I got to my house, I didn’t notice anything wrong. My neighbor pulled into his drive about the same time I did, and I remember waving to him. He waved back and walked to get his mail. I walked up to the door and it was locked. I had to use my key like always.” She swallowed, closing her eyes as she visualized each detail of that day. “I opened the door, stepped inside and someone grabbed me from behind. He put something over my head.” Her breathing became shallow pants at the remembered terror. She had been certain she was going to be raped and killed.
Ian’s hand reached over and grasped hers, holding it in an almost painful grip. She flexed her fingers and he let go. “Sorry.”
Clasping her hands together between her knees, she hunched her shoulders, took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Leaning back and staring at the ceiling, she said, “I managed a pretty good scream before they stuffed a rag in my mouth. If they were going to kill me, I was going to make them work for it. I kicked one, got my hand free and managed to get the rag out of my mouth. I remember screaming again.”
This time his hand squeezed her shoulder, and she could feel the tension emanating from him in waves. “I’m sorry to make you recount this, but I’ve got to hear it.”
“I know. It’s all right. It’s just…” She shook her head and he encouraged her with the compassion in his eyes. “Then the one who had me from behind whispered in my ear, ‘Scream again and I’ll slit your throat. Now, where is it?’ He pulled the rag from my mouth and I asked him what he was looking for. He said, ‘Mario stole something from my boss and he wants it back.’”
“What did his voice sound like?” Ian interrupted. “Did he have an accent?”
Gina scrunched her nose as she tried to remember the voice and not the fear. “Maybe a slight one. He whispered so I can’t…no, he didn’t have any kind of distinguishable accent.” Then her head shot up to look him in the eye. “But the other guy did. In fact, I think he spoke a couple of Spanish words.”
Ian raised a brow. “Spanish, huh?”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Then what happened?”
“I screamed that I didn’t know what he was talking about, that Mario never told me about anything he stole. Then my neighbor was banging on my door, yelling my name and asking if I needed help. That’s when we could hear the sirens coming down the street. The man holding me shoved me to the floor, and then they all ran out the back. At about that time my neighbor kicked the door in and said he’d called the police when he’d heard me screaming and through the window could see me struggling with someone.”
Ian ran a hand over his face. “Thank God your neighbor was home.”
“I know. He was early that day and so was I. I usually go to the gym around that time, but in spite of feeling so great about the sale, I had a headache and wanted to go home and lie down for a bit.”
“So you changed your routine that day.”
“Just a little, yes.”
“They probably weren’t expecting you to show up.”
“You mean I surprised them?”
“Yeah. If they wanted to get in your house to do a search, most likely they’d been watching you for a while to get a good idea of your routine.”
“And I picked that day to alter it.” She closed her eyes and shook her head.
“Unfortunately.” Ian stood and paced to the other end of the room, then back. “And that started it. They may have been trying to find whatever it was that Mario had without involving you, but once you walked in on them…”
Gina nodded and frowned. “So that’s why it took them six months to come after me?”
“Maybe. And yet why let on that they were looking for something specific? They could have just acted like it was a robbery and left without saying anything.”
Silence descended, surrounding them as they lost themselves in their thoughts.
“They’re out of options,” Gina stated quietly.
Ian focused in on her. “What do you mean?”
“They’ve probably been looking for whatever it is that Mario took since the day he died. Six months later they still haven’t found it. I’m the only link left.”
An almost imperceptible nod came from Ian. “You could be right.”
“So what do we do now?”
“Well, we keep searching and keep avoiding whoever’s after you until we find it.”
“I have a feeling that’s going to be easier said than done.”
Ian shrugged. “Guess we’re going to find out. I called a buddy of mine, Jason Sutton. He’s going to bring us some supplies. Stuff my sister can’t get her hands on or I’d have her bring it.”
Recognition lit her dark eyes. “I know Jase.” Then a frown formed between her brows. “But I don’t know that Mario trusted him anymore. I know they had some kind of conflict going on shortly before Mario died. Unfortunately, I don’t think Mario trusted any of the guys from his unit.” Her gaze softened as she stared at him, and a flicker of confusion passed over her pretty features. “Just you. He trusted you. Why?”
Discomfort made him turn from her straightforward look. He couldn’t share that information with her—yet. Under the guise of checking the street, he walked to the window, stepped to the side and pulled back the curtain a mere centimeter.
Nothing.
He turned back to her. She still waited for his answer.
“Mario knew I’d never do anything to hurt him. Ever. I guess he realized that in time and—” he paused and shrugged “—sent you to me. Also because…” He stopped, the rest of his answer hovering on his lips.
A knock at the door sounded.
Pulling his gun, he checked the peephole, then returned the weapon to its holster. “That’s Carly.” Relief at the reprieve filled him, and he opened the door. A young woman in her early thirties, with the same blue eyes as her brother, stepped into the room.
Ian shut the door and gave her a hug. “Thanks for doing this.”
Carly grinned up at him. “Always loved the night shift.” She turned her gaze to Gina, studying her. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
Ian stepped to the door. “I’ll let you guys get acquainted, but I’d make it short if I were you.” He looked at Gina. “Get some sleep, it’s already almost 2:00 in the morning. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”
Gina blinked at Ian’s sudden departure.
Well. Then she narrowed her eyes. He was getting out while he could, avoiding any more questions he didn’t want to answer. She let him go, moved to the bed and sank onto it.
Carly settled herself into a chair, facing the door yet away from the window. “So, you’ve got someone after you, huh?”
“To say the least.”
Compassion softened the features she shared with Ian.
“Why don’t you get some rest? No one will bother you tonight.”
Fatigue hit Gina like a truck, and instead of getting up and taking the shower she’d planned on, she fell back to stare at the ceiling. “Thanks, I appreciate that.” Then she sat back up. “I think I’m too exhausted to sleep.”
Silence reigned for a moment; then a sympathetic Carly asked, “How did you and Mario meet?”
Gina smiled at the memory. “He wanted to buy a house.”
“Ian told me you’re a Realtor.”
“Yep. Mario wanted to buy a house in North Carolina. I was working with a firm there, and he got put through to me. We met and the rest was history as they say.”
“Did he ever buy the house?”
Gina chuckled. “Not in North Carolina. He eventually bought the one near Myrtle Beach. The whole thing in North Carolina was an undercover deal. The president was going to be at the Charlotte Coliseum. There had been reports of a terrorist attack there, and Mario was assigned the case. My real estate office was right across the street from the Coliseum. It made for a good cover.”
“And he called you after the mission was finished?”
“Yeah.” Her eyes grew heavy and she gave in to the desire for sleep, murmuring, “I think I might be able to get a little rest, if that’s okay.”
“Go right ahead—that’s why I’m here. I brought a book to read.” With that she opened a thick novel and conversation ceased.
While Gina’s body demanded rest, her mind wouldn’t shut off. What had Mario been thinking? What had he been involved in that would cause someone to come after her?
Racking her brain produced nothing but a headache, so she turned her thoughts to Ian—what was it about him that caused Mario to trust the man? Why, of all the people Mario knew, did he practically order her to contact the one person who—in his eyes—had betrayed the unit by leaving?
Okay, if she was honest with herself, she’d have to admit betrayed might be too strong a word. Deserted? Bailed on? Abandoned?
Whatever the word, he’d left the unit and, as a result, disharmony had ensued. The team recovered, of course, but it was never the same. And while Mario had not shared the details of everything, she knew he blamed Ian for the fallout. He’d been quite vocal about that because the guys had never really liked Robbie Stillman, Ian’s replacement.
She rolled to her stomach. Lord, I need you. Please help me figure out what I’ve gotten myself in the middle of. And take away this weird attraction I feel for a man who has as many secrets as the one I lost.
She must have slept, because the next thing she knew, she awakened with a start, heart pounding, at the click of the door closing.
Who was there?
Where was Carly?
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