Czytaj książkę: «Her Hero And Protector»
Everything seemed to be in order, except for the woman asleep in his cabin.
Reece took in everything about the stranger – the wet clothes clinging to her body, the tousled, short blonde hair and a beautiful face that even in sleep was in obvious turmoil. He felt a definite tug on his reality, a strange combination of lust and concern.
Should he wake her and demand to know what she was doing in his cabin? He spotted her purse on the end table. As he reached for it she stirred, then jerked to attention.
Her eyes went wide with fright as her gaze landed on him.
Her voice was anything but firm as she eased her way out of the chair. She moved behind it in an obvious attempt to put a barricade between them. “Who…who are you?”
“Well, Goldilocks…this is my cabin, and I want to know why you’ve been sleeping in my bed.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Although award-winning author Shawna Delacorte has lived most of her life in Los Angeles and has a background working in television production, she is currently living in Wichita, Kansas. Among her writing accomplishments she is honoured to include her placement on the bestseller list. In addition to writing full-time, she teaches a fiction-writing class in the Division of Continuing Education at Wichita State University. Shawna enjoys hearing from her readers and can be reached at 6505 E Central, Box 300, Wichita, KS 67206, USA.
Her Hero and Protector
SHAWNA DELACORTE
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Brandi Doyle – Why would someone stalk this quiet, unassuming woman? And worse yet, why would someone abduct her?
Reece Covington – He’s hiding away from society in his mountain cabin after serving a prison term for something he didn’t do. After his last experience, will he allow himself to be drawn in by another woman who claims to need his help?
Lt Frank James – Good cop gone bad or simply overzealous in his duties?
Lyle Hanover – Assistant DA who prosecuted Reece based on Lt James’ testimony. Should he have looked at the case a little closer?
Joe Hodges – Is this FBI agent the friend he pretends to be, or does he have an agenda of his own?
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Chapter One
Brandi Doyle glanced back over her shoulder. Panic surged through her body, a panic driven by fear. The rain pelted against her face, stinging her skin. Had she managed to elude her pursuer? The stalker everyone kept telling her didn’t exist? The person who was only a figment of her imagination?
The very real man who just a few hours ago had abducted her?
She dug her shoes into the slippery mud as she fought to maintain her footing in the drenching downpour. Her heart pounded. Her chest heaved with each gulp of air she sucked into her lungs, but she didn’t dare slow down.
It seemed as if it had been hours since she’d managed to escape from her abductor’s car when he’d stopped for gas at the small service station on the mountain road—hours that she had been running through the woods. But a quick glance at her watch told her it had only been thirty minutes. Intellectually, she knew the rain would obscure any trace of her tracks, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that her abductor was only a few feet behind her and closing in.
She headed in the direction where she thought the lake and some cabins were, a place where she might be able to get some help. It was an area where she had done a lot of photography. If only she could be sure of her exact location. If only she hadn’t been blindfolded. A shiver rippled through her body, part anxiety and part chill. She was soaked to the skin without even a jacket to provide a modicum of warmth.
It would be dark soon and she needed to find some sort of shelter. She forced herself onward, ignoring the ache in her legs. She had to put as much distance as she could between her and her abductor—and as quickly as possible.
Another hundred feet she came to a fire road. She ran parallel to the road, staying in the woods, hidden from view. Shrubbery attacked her legs and arms. Bushes scratched her face and hands, but she knew she didn’t dare venture out into the open—she didn’t dare expose herself to her abductor.
Then she spotted it through the trees—a cabin at the edge of the fire road. A little tremor of excitement tried to take hold. It was the off season, too early for summer vacationers. There was a good chance the cabin would be vacant. It would provide her shelter from the storm, a means of hiding from her pursuer and a place to gather her thoughts and make a plan of action.
The carport was empty—a good sign. She knocked on the door and received no response. She tried the door but found it locked. She circled the cabin, checking the windows until she found an unlocked one that opened into the kitchen. Once inside, she breathed a sigh of relief. She was out of the wind and rain and no longer visible to anyone looking for her.
Brandi took a quick look around, making sure the cabin was empty. It was—for the moment. The rumpled sheets and blanket on the unmade bed in the bedroom left her with an uneasy feeling. She paused in the bathroom long enough to towel-dry her dripping wet hair. She studied her face in the mirror. The scratches weren’t too bad, but they needed to be cleaned. She washed her face, then found some antiseptic in a bathroom cupboard.
She returned to the kitchen. The refrigerator was mostly empty—nothing perishable, such as fresh meat, vegetables or even a quart of orange juice. Hopefully the owner only used the cabin on weekends in spite of the evidence of the unmade bed. The shelves contained canned goods. She opened a can of soup. It wasn’t much, but it eased her hunger pangs.
Her guilt, however, wasn’t as easily appeased. She had broken into someone’s cabin and stolen food. Not a very admirable thing to do, even though it had been necessary. Her fears quickly overruled her guilt.
She made a quick trip through the cabin again, looking out each of the windows. She satisfied herself that she had not been followed, that there wasn’t anyone lurking outside. She also noticed that there wasn’t a phone. She slumped into a large, comfortable chair. For the first time in several hours she drew in an easy breath. She pulled the strap from across her chest and over her head, then set the small, attached purse on the end table. She had been wearing the purse when her abductor had grabbed her, and she had managed to hang on to it—an almost involuntary action of clinging to something she owned.
She needed to think, to make sense of what had happened, to figure out what to do next. Her eyelids grew heavy. She could not fight off the exhaustion, as much emotional as it was physical. A moment later darkness descended around her, and she slipped into an uneasy sleep.
REECE COVINGTON PULLED HIS four-wheel-drive SUV off the fire road, parking in the carport attached to his cabin. He had intended to enclose the carport, making it a garage and cutting a door from the garage directly into the cabin. Stormy days like today made him wish he had finished the project.
He dashed through the rain to the covered front porch while juggling a sack of groceries. He had been hiding out in his cabin in the Cascade Mountains for three months, ever since his release from prison. Two years of his life taken away from him for something he didn’t do. Two years spent building up resentment toward the woman who had set him up and the rogue cop who had framed him.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside, then came to an abrupt halt. His heart jumped a beat and his senses went on full alert as his experienced gaze made a quick yet expert sweep of the room. Everything seemed to be in order, everything where it belonged.
Everything except for the woman asleep in the chair.
He moved quietly to the kitchen, searching for anything that looked out of place. He spotted the window where she had entered. He noted the empty soup can. He set the bag of groceries in the refrigerator, then moved stealthily toward the bedroom. He did not want to wake the intruder nor did he want to alert anyone else who might be with her.
He made a quick search of the bedroom. It was exactly the way he left it. So was the bathroom, except for the wet washcloth, the towel and the bottle of antiseptic on the counter.
He returned to the living room. He took in everything about the stranger—the wet clothes clinging to her body, her muddy shoes, the tousled, short blond hair and the beautiful face with the numerous scratches. A face that even in sleep was covered in turmoil. He felt a definite tug on his reality, a strange combination of lust and concern. He steeled himself against the unwanted and unexpected feelings—both of them.
He had been down that path before with a beautiful stranger who had claimed to need his help. It had ended up costing him two years of his life and his career. And before that there was his travesty of an engagement to a woman who had jilted him at the altar and gone back to her former boyfriend.
Yes, indeed. It would be a cold day in hell before he made the mistake of being suckered in by another beautiful woman, no matter how vulnerable she appeared to be or how much she professed to need his help.
He continued to stare at the stranger as he turned the situation over in his mind. She didn’t seem to pose an immediate threat to him. Should he wake her and demand to know what she was doing in his cabin or wait until she woke on her own? He spotted her purse on the end table. As he reached for it she stirred, opened her eyes, then jerked to attention.
Her eyes went wide with fright as her gaze landed on him.
Her voice was anything but firm as she eased her way out of the chair. She moved behind it in an obvious attempt to put a barricade between them. “Who…who are you? What are you doing here?”
His reply was succinct, his voice carrying all the authority of someone in charge. “Well, Goldilocks…I’m Papa Bear and this is my cabin. I want to know why you’ve been eating my soup and sleeping in my chair.” He raked his gaze slowly over the obviously frightened woman, but was totally unprepared for her next move.
She bolted for the door of the cabin and ran blindly out into the rain, fear propelling her every step. Reece followed close on her heels, catching up with her about ten feet from the porch. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. She struggled, twisting and turning in an attempt to get loose. His tight hold thwarted her attempts to free herself from his control.
“Lady…calm down. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m bigger than you are. I’m stronger than you. I don’t like being out here in the mud and rain. Stop struggling because whether you like it or not, we’re going back inside. You’re going to tell me who you are and why you broke into my cabin.”
She pounded her fists against his back. “You put me down this second.” Even to her own ears her demands sounded weak and ineffectual. Her mind raced, darting frantically from one fear to another as he carried her inside the cabin. Panic continued to rampage through her body, totally wiping out any logic that might have been tenaciously clinging to her reality. The moment he set her down, she dashed for the door again.
With a speed that truly shocked her, he lunged forward and tackled her around the waist. In one smooth motion he shoved her to the floor and pinned her down with his body.
She had never been as frightened as she was at that moment, not even when her abductor had grabbed her. The bitter taste of adrenaline filled her mouth. Her heart pounded wildly, pushing her fear to every part of her body. Her throat threatened to close. She swallowed several times, but it did nothing to stop the sick churning in the pit of her stomach. It felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the air. She gasped for breath. She lashed out at him in panic, scratching the side of his face.
“Damn!” He grabbed both her wrists and held them above her head. “Settle down, you little hellcat. I told you I’m not going to hurt you. Now, calm down. Will you stay put and stop struggling if I let go of your wrists?”
The tears welled in her eyes. She tried to blink them away. A sob caught in her throat. She barely managed to force out the words. “Please don’t hurt me.”
His breathing quickened as he continued to struggle with her. She was obviously very frightened, but he also knew that she was hysterical and in danger of injuring herself if she tried to run again. He could not let her up from the floor before she regained control of her emotions. He forced a calm to his voice, one he didn’t feel but one he hoped would have an effect on her.
“I told you, I’m not going to hurt you.” He held both of her wrists in one of his hands and with the other one he grabbed both sides of her jaw and held her head still. He fixed her with a steady gaze. “Listen to me. I’m not going to hurt you. Do you hear me? Are you listening to me? Answer me.”
He saw her eyes focus on him. They were still filled with fear, but he knew he finally had her attention. He dropped his voice to what he hoped was a soothing level. “Quiet down. Be still. I’m not going to hurt you. Do you understand me?”
She nodded her head.
“Say it. I want to hear the words. Do you understand what I’m saying? I’m not going to hurt you.”
Her voice trembled, but the words finally came out. “I…I hear you.”
“Okay. Now, take a deep breath, then another one. You’re going to be all right. Take another breath.” He felt some of the tension drain from her body as her muscles relaxed a bit. When her breathing smoothed out until it was steady, he let go of her face. “I’m going to turn your wrists loose now, then we’ll get up from the floor. I want you to sit on the sofa. Do you understand?”
She took a deep breath. Her voice still contained a slight quaver as she spoke, but she had better control of it. “Yes.”
His face was so close to hers that he could feel her breath against his skin. Even disheveled, dirty and scratched, she still radiated a beauty and desirability that pushed his testosterone to the limit. And having his body on top of hers definitely aggravated the awkward situation. He had to break the physical contact before she had a valid reason to be concerned about what could happen.
He cautiously released her wrists from his grasp and allowed her to slowly lower her arms. “I’m going to stand up now. Are you sure you’re calm and in control of your emotions?” He felt a little more of her tension drain away. He rose to his feet, then held out his hand to help her up from the floor. She hesitated, then cautiously accepted his assistance.
To her surprise, her fear level didn’t elevate when he grasped her hand. He certainly radiated a commanding presence, but she had picked up on something else about him. His blue eyes had been wary as he stared at her, rather than menacing. They were honest and seemed to take in everything that was going on. Now that she was in control of herself again, she realized that there wasn’t anything potentially hurtful radiating from him.
Was it just wishful thinking on her part? Hoping she hadn’t become ensnared in even more trouble than she had been in a few hours earlier? Hoping she hadn’t stumbled into the hideout of a crazed rapist or a serial killer? She knew he wasn’t the man who had abducted her, but could he be in league with her stalker?
Her throat tightened and a sick feeling churned in the pit of her stomach again. Was she about to meet her final doom?
He guided her to the sofa in front of the fireplace. “I’m not going to hurt you. Now sit down and stay put while I build a fire and get some heat in here.” He started to reach for some logs, then turned his gaze on her again. He told her what she intellectually knew, but had not emotionally accepted.
“You can’t wander around in the rain. Besides, it will be dark soon. All you’ll accomplish is getting yourself hurt.” He returned his attention to starting a fire.
The cold, the wet and the emotional turmoil finally caught up with her. She shivered in hard spasms. She reached for the blanket folded across the back of the sofa and pulled it around her. Was she now a prisoner of this man? What should she do?
What could she do?
She studied him as he placed a couple of logs in the fireplace, then lit the small pieces of kindling. He looked as if he hadn’t shaved for a couple of days, but it didn’t do anything to hide his handsome features. His wet hair lay matted against his head, dark tendrils brushing against the top of his jacket collar. She noted his broad shoulders and long legs. He appeared to be in his late thirties. Most certainly a very sexy man with a magnetic aura and definite appeal.
She closed her eyes for a moment as she shook the thoughts from her head. She had been stalked, then abducted. She had escaped into the woods in an attempt to elude her pursuer. She had been running for her life—literally. And now she was trapped in a mountain cabin with this stranger who had clearly demonstrated how indefensible her position was when he had tossed her over his shoulder as if she were nothing more than a sack of feathers and hauled her back inside, then had physically held her against her will.
Any thoughts about the desirability of this man were not only totally inappropriate, they were absurd.
Reece’s voice broke into her thoughts as he closed the screen in front of the fire. “There—that should take the chill out of the air and help you warm up.”
He wasn’t sure what to do now. She sat huddled in the corner of the sofa with the blanket wrapped around her. Another hard jolt of lust struck him, tempered by the realization of how frightened and vulnerable she appeared. It had been two years and three months since he had been this close to a desirable woman. The sight played on his emotions and tugged at his senses. He tried to shove away the feelings. He went to the kitchen, took the sack from the grocery store out of the refrigerator and put everything away where it belonged, hoping the activity would give him time to think.
A few minutes later he returned to the living room. She was exactly where he had left her, scrunched in the corner of the sofa. He swallowed his discomfort and uneasiness as he forced an outer calm.
“Well, Goldilocks…are you sufficiently recovered enough to talk to me? Do you have a name?”
She pulled up all the courage she could muster as she attempted to project a commanding attitude. “Do you?”
“No you don’t, Goldilocks. It’s my cabin. You’re the trespasser. I’m the one who has the right to ask questions and demand answers.”
She glared at him. “Stop calling me Goldilocks!”
He suppressed the wry grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. She had spirit. Even as frightened as she obviously was—as frightened as anyone would be under the circumstances—she had managed to put forth some heated sparks of independence. He found that very appealing. He had never been particularly interested in the clinging-vine type of woman nor the type who constantly needed to have her ego fed—not even as the occasional one-night stand.
He made eye contact with her and held it for a long moment before speaking. “Then tell me what to call you.”
Her emotions had been stretched, punched and pulled so taut that she didn’t have anything left other than the underlying current of fear that continued to run just below the surface. “Brandi…” She broke the eye contact as she quickly looked away. “Brandi Doyle.”
“Well, Brandi Doyle, what are you doing in my cabin?” The question left him uneasy. Was her obvious vulnerability getting to him? Was he allowing himself to be drawn into yet another bad situation with a woman where he would end up regretting that he hadn’t just allowed her to escape into the storm and out of his life?
“I…I needed someplace where I could get out of the storm.”
“I didn’t see a car. How did you get here? Why were you wandering around in the storm? Where did you come from?” He reached out and almost touched her face, withdrawing his hand before he made physical contact. “And where did you get those scratches on your face?”
“I—” This was no good. She didn’t have a clue who he was, other than the owner of the cabin. Or so he claimed.
True…even though she didn’t have any means of protecting herself, he hadn’t done anything other than bring her back inside from the storm. True…he had released her unharmed, as he’d said he would. True…he just might be an honorable and trustworthy man.
But could she really trust him with the truth about how and why she happened to be in his cabin?
She drew in a steadying breath in an effort to calm her galloping anxiety and ease her trepidation. She chose her words with great care. “I apologize for being here. I had no right to break into your cabin.” She rose to her feet and dropped the blanket on the sofa. “I’ll leave so you can go about your business.” She picked up her purse, screwed up her courage and headed toward the door.
Reece grabbed her arm and with his other hand took the purse from her. “Wait a minute. You can’t go wandering in the woods with a storm raging around you. Besides—” he glanced toward the window “—in another ten minutes it will be dark outside.”
He eyed her carefully, maintaining his hold on her as she tried to wrest her arm from his grip. “Are you in some kind of trouble? Are you in danger? Was my cabin more of a place for you to hide than merely somewhere to get out of the rain?”
Her words came out almost as a whisper, her voice pleading. “Please…let go of me. I want to leave.”
The quaver in her voice answered his questions, and the obvious fear that emanated from the depths of her eyes confirmed those answers. And it also told him that hell must have frozen over while he wasn’t looking. He had just been suckered into helping yet another beautiful woman in distress. Would he live to regret it this time, too?
She looked up at him, this time holding the eye contact. He saw the confusion in her troubled hazel eyes. He loosened his grip on her arm and guided her back to the sofa. He softened his voice, hoping it would instill some confidence and allay her concerns and obvious fears.
“Sit down.” He opened her purse and took out her driver’s license. “So, your name really is Brandi.” He noted her address in Rocky Shores, Washington—a city of about thirty thousand people in the greater Seattle metropolitan area. Rocky Shores…he turned that interesting tidbit of information over in his mind as he handed everything back to her.
He perched on the arm of the sofa and studied her for a moment. “Tell me what’s going on…please.”
She hesitated as if she wasn’t sure what to do or what to say. She emitted a sigh of resignation as she slumped back and allowed her tensed muscles to relax a little bit. He didn’t seem as threatening as he had earlier. True to his word, he had not harmed her. A lot of the fear had drained from her reality—but not all of it. “I don’t even know who you are. Why would you want to hear about my problems?”
“Fair enough question. My name is Reece Covington. You’re obviously in some kind of trouble and by breaking into my cabin you’ve involved me in it even if that wasn’t your intention.” Was he about to repeat the same colossal mistake that had landed him in prison for two years? He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then slowly exhaled. He was not at all sure he was doing the right thing. His words came out slowly, surrounded by a touch of the uncertainty that jittered inside him.
“Perhaps there’s something I can do to help you.”
“How could you help me?”
“I don’t know. First, you’ll have to tell me what the problem is, then we’ll see if there’s some way I can help. It could be that the only thing I can do is provide you with a ride back to Rocky Shores.” He flashed an engaging smile, one he hoped would instill a feeling of confidence. “But that would certainly be better than walking back.”
All the defiance drained out of her body, to be replaced with despair. She didn’t know what to do or what to say. Her words were barely above a whisper, a very frightened whisper. “No one can help. No one believes me.”
He moved off the arm of the sofa and sat down next to her. “What is it that no one believes?” He was digging the hole deeper and deeper. He was becoming too involved in something that was none of his business—something that could only cause him more trouble than he wanted to accept. More trouble than he needed, especially now.
“All right.” She screwed up her determination. “You asked and here it is. For the past month someone has been stalking me.”
It was the last thing he had expected her to say, but it grabbed his attention. He could tell by the expression on her face that she was serious. “Stalking you? In what way?”
“Well…sometimes it was just a feeling that someone was watching me when I would be out at various places. Things like following me around the grocery store. I would turn around and look, but didn’t see anyone I recognized or even anyone who seemed to be paying any attention to me. At night I would sometimes hear sounds outside my house as if someone was checking to see if any of the doors or windows were unlocked. My phone would ring. I could hear breathing, but no one would answer me. It wasn’t the type of heavy breathing that you would think of as an obscene call, just someone on the line who didn’t say anything.”
“Well, that could have just been your imagination. Or maybe kids playing a prank.”
“That’s what the police said when I tried to report it. They didn’t believe me.” A frown wrinkled across her forehead, an angry frown that matched her tone of voice. “In fact, they were very condescending. They implied that I was nothing more than some hysterical neurotic female with an overactive imagination who should take a tranquilizer and get some rest.”
A little snort of disgust escaped his throat before he could stop it. “In my experience, that’s typical of the way the Rocky Shores Police Department handles things.”
“There’s more. There was a voice—a strange, unreal type of voice—that would reach out to me.”
“What do you mean by strange and unreal? Was it a man’s voice or a woman’s? What was different about this voice?”
“I’m not sure. It was sort of…well, like it was mechanical or something like that. It was a man’s voice.”
“Do you mean like a computer-generated voice? Something like that?”
The light of recognition came into her eyes. “Yes! That’s it. A computer-generated voice, not a real person.”
“You said it reached out to you. What do you mean? How did it reach out to you?”
Brandi scrunched up her face as she tried to come up with the right words to explain something that didn’t have any rational explanation. “It was as if it materialized out of thin air when there was no one around, at least no one I could see. Once it was in the fog during the day. Another time it was at night.”
“What did this voice say?”
“It called my name and told me to be careful, that it was coming for me. There were a couple of occasions when I could tell that someone had been in my house. Nothing was missing and everything appeared to be in the right place, but I could tell someone had looked through my things.”
“Your things…what kind of things? Do you mean like some pervert pawing through your underwear?”
“No. It seemed to be my office and my darkroom.”
Reece cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. “Your office? Your darkroom? You work from home? Are you a professional photographer or is it just a hobby?”
“It’s what I do for a living. Mostly weddings and portraits, but I’m also working on a coffee-table-type book—scenic photographs depicting the unique and beautiful sights of Washington.”
A sudden thought struck her, one that triggered a moment of anxiety. She tried to shove down the apprehension as she stared at him with a skeptical eye. She wasn’t sure she should open a can of worms by asking the question or, for that matter, whether she really wanted to know the answer.
“You sound like a policeman who’s interrogating a suspect. Are you…uh, are you a policeman?” The apprehension churned inside her. She held her breath as she waited for his response. Under normal circumstances a policeman would be a blessing and a relief, but not this time. Not now. Not with what she had seen when—
“Me? A policeman?” If the thought hadn’t been so preposterous it might have been funny. “No, I’m not a policeman.” A level of caution pushed to the forefront. Something about the way she had asked the question caught his attention. It was almost as if she was afraid he might be a policeman rather than hoping he was one.
The more she talked, the more he became fascinated with the tale she had to tell. He had dealt with this type of situation before. As a highly paid, very successful private investigator, he had handled several stalking cases during his career.
Career. He almost laughed out loud at the word, a laugh of bitter resentment. His extremely profitable career had been flushed down the toilet along with two years of his life when he was wrongly convicted and sent to prison. Now, he had enough money socked away from before his arrest to sustain him for a while, plus the profits from selling his house.
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