Witness On The Run

A deadly road. A desperate situation.

A desire that can’t be denied.

On the run for the last year, Tala Walker must flee again when she witnesses a murder. She stows away with a sexy, gruff ice road trucker headed to the wilds of Alaska. Despite his own painful past, Cameron Hughes offers his protection. But as they navigate the ice and flee the killers, their passion threatens to burn brighter than the northern lights...

SUSAN CLIFF is a longtime romance reader, part-time writer and full-time California girl. She loves to daydream about exciting adventures in exotic locales. Her books feature heartfelt romance, gripping suspense and true-to-life characters. Get swept away with Susan Cliff!

Also By Susan Cliff

Witness on the Run

Team Twelve

Navy SEAL Rescue

Stranded with the Navy SEAL

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Witness on the Run

Susan Cliff

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07962-4

WITNESS ON THE RUN

© 2018 Susan Cliff

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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“You haven’t been honest with me,” Cam shot back angrily. “You never said you were facing serious charges. I don’t know what the hell is going on. I don’t even know who you’re running from!”

Tala hadn’t withheld information to deceive him. She’d done it to protect him, and herself.

“You’re not as innocent as you pretend to be,” he said.

She sputtered with outrage. “I’m not pretending to be anything.”

He stepped forward, crowding her space. “I’m not a fool, Tala.”

“Why did I come here, then?”

“To torture me.”

She shoved his chest. He didn’t budge. “You think you’re the only one who gets stir-crazy? I’ve been trapped inside a truck for two days, just like you. I need to move around, just like you. I feel restless, too.”

“What I feel is sexual frustration, not restlessness.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“So you wandered over here to make it worse?”

“No. I wandered over here to make it better.”

She didn’t touch him. She just waited for him to touch her, and he didn’t disappoint. Thrusting his hands into her hair, he crushed his mouth over hers.

Dear Reader,

I’m delighted to take you on another exciting adventure in my latest romantic suspense novel! If you’ve read my previous books, you know this story is a bit of a detour for me. Cameron Hughes isn’t a Navy SEAL. He’s not a member of Team Twelve. He’s a truck driver.

I’ve always had a soft spot for unlikely heroes, especially the bearded-recluse type. Cam is a former police officer turned guarded widower. He embraces the solitude and remoteness of Alaska’s dark highways. He doesn’t want to get involved with anyone, but fate has other plans. Enter Tala Walker, the witness on the run, and an unlikely heroine in her own right. She’s a waitress with a troubled past and in desperate need of a ride. Cam gives her shelter and becomes her reluctant protector. Together, they embark on a daring journey across the icy tundra.

I hope you enjoy spending time with these characters as much as I did. The setting is unusual, but the core of the story is pure romance. It’s about two people who fall in love against all odds and find the happiness they deserve.

If you prefer the road less traveled, come with me.

Susan Cliff

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Extract

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

December 1162N14 degrees

Tala Walker was a woman on the run.

She’d fled Canada six months ago and never looked back. Now she was living under an alias in Willow, Alaska. She’d rented a room at a quiet boarding house. Every day she got up early and walked to the diner where she worked.

It wasn’t much, but she felt safe here.

This morning, the diner was in disarray. There were beer cans all over the countertops and broken glass on the floor. It reeked of booze and cigarettes. She sighed, shaking her head. Walt must have really tied one on last night.

A quick detour to the office down the hall revealed the man responsible for the mess. He was dead to the world, snoring away on a dilapidated love seat. His barreled chest rose and fell with every breath.

Tala didn’t bother to wake him up. Walt was her boss, the designated cook and the owner of the diner. If he wanted to sleep on the job, that was his prerogative. She’d opened on her own before. She could handle the early-morning customers herself. They were heading into the dark days of winter, and business was sparse.

She cleared away the trash and cleaned the floor. She thought of Duane, the husband she’d run away from, who’d also indulged in drunken antics. Only his hadn’t been as harmless as Walt’s. She pushed aside those memories and focused on her morning tasks. Alaskan truckers liked their coffee. She prided herself on brewing a good cup.

At 6:00 a.m. she turned on all the lights, flipped the Closed sign to Open and unlocked the front door. Soon after, a black-and-white squad car pulled into the parking lot. An officer in a navy blue uniform emerged from the vehicle. The sight reminded her of Duane also, and she had other reasons to be nervous about lawmen, but she knew he wasn’t here for her. Cops liked coffee, too. They drank it at Walt’s for free.

“Morning,” he said, hunkering down on a bar stool.

She put a mug in front of him and filled it up. The cream and sugar was within reach. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Just this.”

Tala nodded and inched away. She felt the familiar urge to flee, so she grabbed a clean rag and started wiping down the counter. She didn’t strike up a conversation with him. She didn’t strike up conversations with anyone. She wasn’t the friendliest waitress. Walt always told her she’d get better tips if she smiled once in a while.

A few minutes later, three roughnecks strolled in. Truckers were their regular clientele, but the diner took all kinds. These men had the weathered look of loggers or oil riggers. Tough guys weren’t unusual in these parts, or where she was from. She’d been born on a land reserve in the Northwest Territories. She was no stranger to hardworking men.

She brought them three mugs and three menus, glad for the distraction. As she poured their coffee, she noticed one of the men exchanging a glance with the police officer. She got the odd feeling they knew each other.

“You need another minute to decide?” she asked.

The man closest to her had dirty blond hair and bloodshot eyes. His friends were dark-haired. One had a long, skinny face and a goatee. The other was stocky, with boyish freckles. “Three breakfast specials.”

She collected the menus. “Coming right up.”

The police officer watched her walk away from their table.

“Ready for a refill?” she asked him.

He checked his mug. “I’m good.”

She retreated to the kitchen and turned on the griddle. She considered waking up Walt. Something felt wrong to her, like a bad spirit. Men made her nervous, especially when she was working alone. She told herself it was just her imagination. Not her past, catching up to her.

Not Duane, coming to get her.

She took a deep breath and scrambled eggs. By the time she was finished with the sausages and toast, she’d regained her composure. She brought them their plates. They acted like normal men. The blond one looked her up and down as he bit into his toast. She’d been leered at before, so it didn’t faze her.

“More coffee?”

The boyish one nodded, shoveling food into his mouth. She refilled his mug, noting that he had a better appetite than his companions. He also seemed more relaxed.

“Anything else?” she asked.

The blond one smirked, as if he’d thought of a funny joke. She waited a beat before she walked away, aware of his gaze on her backside. Her waitress uniform was a basic blue dress with white tights and a white apron. She wore sensible shoes and scraped her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck. Some customers were disrespectful, but lewd behavior was rare. Most of the truckers who frequented the diner were old married men, not young bucks on the prowl. They didn’t bother her.

There was only one customer so far who’d caught her eye. He was quiet. Strong, but not a roughneck. He was young and fit, for a trucker. He tipped well and didn’t leer. He smiled even less than she did.

Tala got busy rearranging some pies in the refrigerated case. The police officer left, tossing a few coins by his empty mug. The three men finished their breakfasts soon after. They paid in cash and walked out. She frowned as she cleared their table. Only one of the plates was clean, which was odd. Roughnecks usually ate every bite. Shrugging, she dumped the contents in the trash. It was full, thanks to Walt’s late-night party.

She put on her jacket and picked up the trash, grabbing the keys on the way out. The dumpster was in the back corner of the parking lot. It had to be kept behind a wooden fence, because of bears. She hurried forward and unlocked the gate. Male voices carried on the wind, which whipped around her stocking-covered legs. It was still pitch-black outside, and the air smelled like snow. She hefted the trash into the receptacle. Then she heard a loud pop.

Gunfire.

Close-range, small-arms gunfire. She knew guns. Her dad had taught her how to shoot. Duane had been an enthusiast himself. The sound was unmistakable, and chilling. Hunching down, she peered around the fence to locate the source.

Light from the diner windows illuminated three figures in the parking lot, less than twenty feet away. The blond man who’d leered at her was holding a pistol. One of his breakfast companions was slumped on the ground. The policeman stood right next to the killer. His badge glinted like an evening star.

She ducked lower, smothering a sound of panic. She wanted to run, but she was afraid she’d be spotted.

Two men loaded the body into a car while the officer stood guard. He was watching the street with his back to her. He clearly had no idea she was there. She clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified. Someone slammed the trunk, and the officer turned around to speak. His face was angry.

“Take care of this mess,” he said, pointing at the diner. “All of it.”

The blond man’s reply was lost on the wind.

Tala stayed hidden, trembling with terror. The officer strode to his squad car and got in. After a short hesitation, the two men headed toward the diner’s front entrance. She glanced at the back door, which was still ajar. They’d come out and find her any moment.

She couldn’t breathe properly. She couldn’t blink. She felt like her eyeballs might freeze inside the sockets. The mental picture of her frozen corpse got her moving. The instinct to flee was impossible to ignore. She had to run, now. She leapt out from her hiding place and bolted across the parking lot. She tripped over the first cement parking block she encountered and went down hard. Gravel bit into her hands and knees. It hurt like hell, but she didn’t dwell on the pain. She got up and kept moving.

There was a truck stop on the other side of a wide-open space. She ran toward it, because there was nowhere else to go. Dogs barked in the distance. She couldn’t hear anyone following her, but she couldn’t hear anything except her pounding heart.

She enjoyed running, under normal circumstances. She’d been on the cross-country team in high school and college. She could run for miles without tiring.

She reached a group of big rigs—huge trucks with trailers. There were four or five in a row, sitting idle while the truckers rested inside the sleeper cab or somewhere else. She didn’t know what truckers did when they weren’t driving. Maybe they didn’t sleep. They were magical, mythical creatures.

She hid behind one of the trailers and tried to catch her breath. Her blood was half adrenaline. Her veins might burst from the overload. She was having trouble with her eyes again. Everything in her peripheral vision was fuzzy. It was as if fate had decided she only needed to see what was directly in front of her.

Ice Storm.

That was all she could see. A gray semi with decorative lettering on the door of the passenger side. Its engine purred like a tiger. Between the cab and the trailer, there was enough space for her body.

She swallowed hard. The diesel fumes made her light-headed. She had no idea where the killers were, or if they’d followed her. She could run to the nearest building and scream for help. Or she could stow away on Ice Storm.

She bit the edge of her thumbnail. If she ran away from the row of trucks, she’d be out in the open again. She didn’t know if she’d make it to safety. What if she got shot, or fell into the hands of that police officer?

She chose the Ice Storm.

Her knees shook as she squeezed into the narrow slot and crouched down behind the cab. There was a metal bar to cling to, and electrical wires to avoid. Beneath her feet, a thin metal plate. It was a dangerous place to ride, but she was desperate. She hoped the driver couldn’t see her back here. The last thing she needed was an interrogation. He might call the police or leave her stranded.

She’d stowed away in a semitruck before. The day she’d left Duane, she’d climbed inside a trailer at a gas station on the outskirts of Carcross. She’d expected to go south to British Columbia. Instead, the truck had traveled north. And that was how she’d ended up in Alaska, with no money and no documentation. She’d used a stolen ID to find work and rent a room. Her biggest fear up to this point had been Duane hunting her down and dragging her back home. Now she had a whole new set of problems. The men she was running from made her ex look like a choir boy.

She tightened her grip on the metal bar as the semi moved forward. The gravel lot turned into a gray blur. Then it was smooth asphalt. Soon they were heading north on the highway. With the increased speed came a chill that penetrated her thin stockings.

Her jacket was no joke, made for arctic weather. She zipped it up to the neck and pulled the fur-lined hood over her head. But her exposed hands started to tingle and her feet felt like blocks of ice. She told herself to endure the discomfort, even though it was acute. She had to stay hidden for as long as possible. She also had to stay conscious. If she drifted into a hypothermic state and fell into the road...

Well. That would be a fatal mistake.

She closed her eyes and summoned the strength of her ancestors. She had the blood of Yellowknife warriors flowing through her veins. Her people had thrived in polar climates, with no modern conveniences, for centuries. She could handle a little freezing wind.

She held on tight, determined to ride out the cold.

Chapter 2

Cameron Hughes deliberated for at least ten minutes before he started the engine.

He hadn’t planned on going to Walt’s Diner. He’d been avoiding Walt’s Diner. To be specific, he’d been avoiding one particular waitress at Walt’s Diner. Which was ridiculous, because she’d never acted interested in him. She poured his coffee and took his order with brisk efficiency. She didn’t flirt. She didn’t even smile at him. There was no reason for him to keep his distance from her.

Although she’d done nothing to encourage him, he felt uncomfortable in her presence. Her cool manner and pretty face unsettled him. The last time he’d visited the diner, he’d found himself staring at her. He’d realized, with a surge of guilt, that he was attracted to her. And he’d decided not to go to Walt’s again.

This morning, he’d glanced across the parking lot and studied the neon sign in the diner’s front window. He’d imagined strolling in for breakfast. He knew what would happen. He’d avert his eyes when she approached, and let them linger as she retreated. He’d think of her at night, instead of Jenny. Cam studied the picture of his wife that was affixed to the dashboard. Jenny smiled back at him, not judging.

Shaking his head, he fired up the engine and prepared to leave. Maybe Jenny wanted him to move on, but he wasn’t ready.

He left the truck stop and headed north on the highway. He had a radio app with more music than he could ever listen to and several audiobooks on queue. He enjoyed mysteries and true crime. He liked stories about bad guys getting caught, and hard evidence that led to convictions. If only real life mimicked fiction.

He’d forgotten to select listening material for this leg of the trip, so he drove in silence. Some days he surfed through the CB channels to hear the latest trucker chatter. This morning he didn’t bother. There was light traffic and good weather. He concentrated on the lonely lanes before him, feeling restless. He needed a workout. He’d stop at the twenty-four-hour gym in Fairbanks. Hit the weights, jog a few miles.

Stretching his neck, he continued down the road. He’d gone about thirty miles when he heard a strange thump. He checked his mirrors and didn’t see anything. Maybe one of his tires had kicked up a chunk of asphalt. His gauges looked fine. He kept going. A few minutes later he heard another thump, along with a rattle.

What the hell?

It sounded like something was banging against the metal plate behind the cab. His mirrors didn’t give him a full view of the space. A loose piece of wiring wouldn’t make that noise. The rattling started again, and then stopped. When he reached a long straightaway, he pulled over, shifted into Neutral and engaged the brake. It was still dark, so he grabbed his flashlight before he climbed out.

First he checked the back of the trailer, which looked secure. It was locked up tight. He dropped down to his belly to shine his beam underneath the rig. The wheels were intact. He didn’t see anything amiss.

He got up and inspected the space behind the cab. To his surprise, he caught a glimpse of gray fur.

Wolf?

He blinked and his eyes adjusted, making sense of the shape.

Not a wolf. A woman.

Holy hell. There was a woman in his hitch space. A stowaway. He’d never had a stowaway before, and he’d never expected to see one here. Any hobo with a lick of sense would climb into the cab or the trailer. He kept his trailer locked, of course, and there was no way to get inside his cab unnoticed.

“Come out of there,” he said. “It’s not safe.”

The woman didn’t move. She was crouched down like a cornered animal, shivering violently.

He attempted a softer tone. “Come on out. I won’t hurt you.”

She didn’t respond. Maybe she didn’t speak English. It was difficult to judge her ethnicity because most of her face was hidden behind a fur-lined hood. She appeared to have dark eyes.

Cam turned off the flashlight and pocketed it. She’d been here since he left the truck stop, or earlier. She might be hypothermic, unable to move. He reached into the space with both hands. She leaned sideways in a feeble attempt to escape his touch. He captured her arm and pulled her toward him. She didn’t fight, but she didn’t cooperate, either. He had to drag her out of the narrow space. As soon as she was free, she crumpled to the ground. Her legs were ghost-white. Other than the gray parka, she wasn’t dressed for the weather.

With a muttered curse, he scooped her into his arms. She was tall and slender, but heavy. He carried her toward his open door and climbed the kick-step, grunting from exertion. He skirted around the driver’s chair and deposited her in the passenger seat.

Now what?

He grabbed a wool blanket from his supplies to cover her trembling body. She had on white stockings, ripped at both knees. The sight triggered his memory. He knew those legs. Startled, he lifted his gaze to her face.