A dangerous mountain escape.

An attraction neither can deny.

Adam McKenzie’s protective instincts are on overdrive, but Jody Ingram is no helpless victim. She refuses to abandon the injured ranger who saved her life despite the mysterious gunmen hot on her trail. When their forced flight through treacherous mountain terrain leads to unbridled passion, Adam must decide if guarding Jody 24/7 is worth the risk to his life and his heart...

The Mighty McKenzies

LENA DIAZ was born in Kentucky and has also lived in California, Louisiana and Florida, where she now resides with her husband and two children. Before becoming a romantic suspense author, she was a computer programmer. A Romance Writers of America Golden Heart® Award finalist, she has also won the prestigious Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense. To get the latest news about Lena, please visit her website, lenadiaz.com.

Also by Lena Diaz

Mountain Witness

Secret Stalker

Stranded with the Detective

SWAT Standoff

Missing in the Glades

Arresting Developments

Deep Cover Detective

Hostage Negotiation

The Marshal’s Witness Explosive

Attraction

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Smoky Mountains Ranger

Lena Diaz

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09380-4

SMOKY MOUNTAINS RANGER

© 2019 Lena Diaz

Published in Great Britain 2019

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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This book is dedicated to my dear friends and fellow

authors Jan Jackson and Connie Mann. Your constant

cheerleading and friendship is priceless. Jan, thank you

for helping me through my plot tangles on this one.

I hope you approve of the final product.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

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

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Adam ducked behind a massive, uprooted tree, the tangle of dead roots and blackened branches his only cover on this wildfire-blighted section of the Great Smoky Mountains. Had the man holding the pistol seen him? He ticked off the seconds as he slid his left hand to the Glock 22 holstered at his waist. When half a minute passed without sounds of pursuit, he inched over to peer up the trail and moved his hand to the radio strapped to his belt. After switching to the emergency channel, he pressed the button on his shoulder mic.

“This is Ranger McKenzie on the Sugarland Mountain Trail.” He kept his voice low, just above a whisper. “There’s a yahoo with a gun up here, about a quarter mile northwest of the intersection with the Appalachian Trail. Requesting backup. Over.”

Nothing but silence met his request. He tilted the radio to see the small screen. After verifying the frequency and noting the battery was fully charged, he pressed the mic again.

“Ranger McKenzie requesting backup. Over.” Again he waited. Again, the radio was silent. Cell phone coverage in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park was hit-or-miss. It didn’t matter if someone was coming up from the Tennessee side, like Adam, or hiking in from the North Carolina border. Cell phones up here were unreliable. Period. Which was why he and the rest of the staff carried powerful two-way radios that worked everywhere in the park.

With one exception.

The Sugarland Mountain Trail, where the devastating Chimney Tops wildfire had destroyed a communication tower.

Budget cuts meant the rebuilding was slow and had to be prioritized. Rehabilitating habitats, the visitors’ center and the more popular, heavily used trails near the park’s entrance were high on that list. Putting up a new tower was close to the bottom. So, naturally, the first and only time that Adam had ever encountered someone with a gun in the park, it happened in the middle of the only dead zone.

There would be no backup.

If the guy was just a good old boy out for target practice, the situation wouldn’t even warrant a call back to base. Adam could handle it on his own and be on his way. But the stakes were higher today—much higher—because of two things.

One, the faded blue ink tattoos on the gunman’s bulging biceps that marked him as an ex-con, which likely meant he couldn’t legally possess a firearm and wouldn’t welcome a federal officer catching him with one.

Two, the alarmingly pale, obviously terrified young woman on the business end of Tattoo Guy’s pistol.

Even from twenty yards away, peering through branches, Adam could tell the gunman had a tenuous grasp on an explosive temper. He gestured wildly with his free hand, his face bright red as he said something in response to whatever the petite redhead had just said.

Her hands were empty and down at her sides. Unless she’d shoved a pistol in the back waistband of her denim shorts, she didn’t appear to have a weapon to defend herself. The formfitting white blouse she wore didn’t have any pockets. Even if she’d hidden a small gun, like a derringer, in her bra, there was no way she could get it out faster than the gunman could pull the trigger.

Did they know each other? Was this a case of domestic violence? Since the two were arguing, it seemed likely that they did know each other. So what had brought them to the brink of violence? And what had brought them to this particular trail?

Neither of them was wearing a backpack. Unless they had supplies at a base camp somewhere, that ruled them out as NOBOs on the AT who’d gone seriously off course and gotten lost. Not that he’d expect any northbound through-hikers on the Appalachian Trail in the middle of summer anyway. Most NOBOs started out on the two-thousand-plus-mile hike around March or April so they could reach Mount Katahdin in Maine before blizzards made the AT impassable. But even if they were day hikers, they had no business being on the Sugarland Trail. It was closed, for good reason. The wildfire damage made this area exceedingly dangerous. Now it was dangerous for an entirely different reason.

An idiot with a pistol.

So much for the peaceful workday he’d expected when he’d started his trail inspection earlier this morning.

He switched the worthless radio off, not wanting to risk a sudden burst of static alerting the gunman to his presence. The element of surprise was on his side and he aimed to keep it that way as long as possible, or at least until he came up with a plan.

He belatedly wished he’d dusted off his Kevlar and put it on this morning. But even though he was the law enforcement variety of ranger, as opposed to an informational officer, the kind of dangers he ran into up here didn’t typically warrant wearing a bullet-resistant vest. The heat and extra weight tended to outweigh the risks of not having a vest on since the possibility of getting into a gunfight while patrolling half a million acres of mostly uninhabited mountains and forests was close to zero.

Until today.

Still, it wasn’t the bullets that concerned him the most. It was the steep drop-off behind the woman. One wrong step and she’d go flying off the mountain. The edge was loose and crumbling in many places, particularly in this section of the trail. The couple—if that’s what they were—couldn’t have picked a worse spot for their argument.

Sharp boulders and the charred remains of dozens of trees littered the ravine fifty feet below. Branches stuck up like sharp spikes ready to impale anything—or anyone—unlucky enough to fall on them.

Twenty feet farther north or south on this section of the Sugarland path would provide a much better chance of survival if the worst happened. The slope wasn’t as steep and was carpeted with thick wild grasses. Fledgling scrub brush dotting the mountainside might help break someone’s fall if they lost their footing. They’d still be banged up, might twist an ankle or even crack a bone. But that was preferable to plunging into a rocky ravine with no chance of survival.

The gunman and the woman were still arguing. But Adam couldn’t figure out what they were saying. Sometimes sounds carried for miles out here. Other times a person could barely hear someone a few yards away. It all depended on the wind and the configuration of mountains, rocks and trees nearby.

At the man’s back, a vertical wall of sheer rock went straight up to a higher peak. In front of him was the woman and the sharp drop-off. Sneaking up on him just wasn’t going to happen. Either by luck or by design, he’d chosen a spot that was impossible to approach without being seen.

As Adam watched, the man gestured with his pistol for the woman to head south, away from Adam. When she didn’t move, he stepped forward. She backed up, moving perilously closer to the edge. Adam drew a sharp breath. If he didn’t do something fast, this was going to end in tragedy. He’d have to approach openly, giving up his element of surprise, and hope that cooler heads prevailed.

He unsnapped the safety flap on his holster—just in case—and straightened. Keeping his gaze trained on the ground, he boldly stepped onto the path in plain sight and whistled a tune—AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell.” It seemed appropriate at the moment.

Continuing to look down and pretending not to notice the couple, his hope was to get as close to them as possible and appear nonthreatening—just a ranger in the mountains, doing his job. Most people didn’t realize the difference between informational officers and federal law enforcement rangers anyway. They’d assume the pistol holstered on his belt was for protection against bears or other dangerous wildlife. Usually, it was.

In his peripheral vision, he saw the man shove his pistol into his pants pocket. Adam kept moving forward, head down, increasing the volume of his whistling and tapping his thigh to the beat.

“You gonna run into us or what?” the man’s voice snapped.

Adam jerked his head up as if in surprise, stopping a few feet away from the couple. “Sorry, folks. Must have been daydreaming. Pretty morning for it, don’t you think?” He smiled and waved toward the mountains around them. “Even with the blight from the wildfires, it’s still beautiful up here.”

The man watched him with open suspicion as if sizing him up and trying to decide whether Adam really hadn’t seen the gun. The woman stared at him, her green eyes big and round behind matching green-framed glasses. But instead of seeming relieved to have help, she appeared to be even more terrified than before.

Adam struggled to maintain his smile. “I’m Ranger Adam McKenzie. You folks lost? Got to admit I’m a bit surprised to see you on this particular trail. Know why?”

Tattoo Guy seemed to come to some kind of decision and offered his own smile that didn’t quite reach his dark eyes. “Afraid I don’t. Why?”

“Because the trail is closed, for your safety. It’s because of the fires last season. You heard about those? Burned over seventeen thousand acres, ten thousand of them right here in the park. Killed fourteen people, too.” He didn’t have to fake his wince. The fire had been horrible, tragic. Innocent civilians—including children—had perished in the flames. Families had been destroyed. The community was still struggling to recover as best they could. But nothing could replace the precious lives that were lost.

The man glanced at the woman, his eyes narrowed as if in warning. “Can’t say that I’ve heard about that. I’m not from around here.”

“What about you, miss?” Adam grinned again. “Sorry. Where are my manners? I didn’t catch your name. I’m Adam McKenzie. And you are?” He held out his hand to shake hers, purposely leaving enough space between them so that she’d have to move away from the edge to take his hand.

She looked at the other man as if for permission, then leaned toward Adam, her hand out. As soon as she grasped his hand, he pumped it up and down in a vigorous shake, pulling her even farther away from the edge.

“Your name, ma’am?”

“I, um... Jody. My name’s Jody Ingram.” She shook his hand, eyes wide with fear.

“Pleased to meet you.” Adam let her go and held his hand out toward the gunman. “And you are?”

The man’s nearly black eyes dropped to Adam’s outstretched hand while he clearly debated his response. A handshake required that he use his right hand, his dominant hand, the one that had held the pistol earlier. He’d be giving up precious seconds of reaction time if he decided that Adam was a threat and he needed to draw his gun. Which of course was exactly why Adam wanted to shake his hand.

Adam was left-handed.

And his pistol was holstered just a few inches from where his left hand currently hung down by his side.

Come on, come on. Shake the clueless cop’s hand.

An awkward silence stretched out between them as no one moved. Adam pretended not to notice. He kept his hand out, waiting, a goofy grin on his face. From the corner of his eye, Adam saw the woman watching them closely, her gaze sweeping back and forth.

Finally, the man mumbled something beneath his breath that sounded suspiciously like “stupid hillbilly” before gripping Adam’s hand.

Adam yanked hard, jerking the man off balance. The man stumbled as Adam grabbed the butt of his gun in the holster. But Tattoo Guy was lightning fast. Even as Adam began to draw his pistol, the other guy was already drawing his and swinging it toward him.

Chapter Two

“Drop your weapon. Now.” Adam had both hands wrapped around the butt of his Glock. The bore of his gun was aimed directly at the other man’s head.

Tattoo Guy stood statue still, his weapon aimed slightly to Adam’s left, frozen in midmotion. But one quick twist and a squeeze of the trigger would blast a hole through Adam’s gut. The only question was whether Adam could blow the man’s brains out before that happened. Not exactly a competition he wanted to wage, especially with a woman a few feet away who was dangerously close to the kill zone.

The seconds ticked by. They stood frozen. The only sounds were the woman’s short gasping breaths as she watched the standoff, apparently too terrified to back away to a safer location—preferably behind a thick, solid tree.

Adam didn’t dare say a word to her. He didn’t even blink as he kept his gaze glued to his opponent and his finger on the frame of his gun, just millimeters from the trigger. He narrowed his eyes, letting the stranger know that he wasn’t kidding, wasn’t bluffing and wasn’t the head-in-the-clouds idiot he’d pretended to be moments earlier.

Tattoo Guy must have read the truth and determination in Adam’s eyes, in his stance. He tossed his gun to the ground.

Adam kept his finger right above the trigger, ready to fire at the slightest provocation. Everything about the man screamed danger, and he wasn’t taking any chances. “Turn around.”

The man hesitated, his gaze darting past Adam.

The urge to check over his shoulder to see what Tattoo Guy was looking at was almost impossible to resist. Did the man have a partner in crime creeping up on Adam? Or was he trying to trick him, distract him? His shoulder blades itched, expecting a bullet to slam into them any second. But he didn’t turn around. He focused on the known threat in front of him and waited.

The man finally did as Adam had ordered and turned to face the wall of rock.

Adam kicked the pistol out of reach. “Down on the ground. Put your hands behind your back.”

Again Tattoo Guy hesitated. Adam pulled a pair of handcuffs from one of the leather cases attached to his utility belt. He desperately wanted to check on the woman, make sure she was safe, that no one was sneaking up behind her. But he didn’t dare. Not until he had this guy secured.

When the man finally put his hands behind his back, Adam holstered his pistol in one smooth motion and dropped down on top of him, jamming his knee against the man’s spine to hold him down. The man cursed and tried to buck him off. But Adam used every bit of his six-foot-three-inch bulk to keep the stranger pinned.

He slapped the cuffs on the man’s wrists, then sat back, drawing deep breaths as adrenaline pumped through him. A bead of sweat ran down the side of his face in spite of the mild, springlike temps this high up in the mountains. From the moment he’d seen the gunman to the moment he’d cuffed him had probably only been five minutes. But it had felt like an eternity.

He stood and pulled his prisoner up with him. After patting the man down to make sure he wasn’t hiding more weapons, he grabbed the man’s pistol and popped out the magazine. After ejecting the chambered round and verifying that the weapon was now empty, he pocketed the gun and the magazine. Then he slid the man’s wallet out of his back jeans pocket, jumping back when the man jerked around, glowering at him.

“Give that back.” The man’s tone communicated a deadly, unmistakable threat.

“After I check your ID.”

A smug look crossed the man’s face, a look Adam understood when he opened the wallet. Tucked inside was a hefty amount of cash: twenties, tens, a few ones—a thousand dollars, easy. A heck of a lot of money for someone wandering through the mountains. But that was it. No driver’s license, no credit cards, nothing that could shed any light on his identity.

He forced the man to face the rock wall again and returned the wallet with its cache of money to the man’s pocket. “What’s your name?”

Silence met his question.

“What were you doing up here on a closed trail with a pistol? Why were you pointing it at Miss Ingram?”

Tattoo Guy turned his head to the side, watching Adam over his shoulder. Still, he said nothing. He just studied Adam intently, his eyes dark and cold, like a serpent.

Adam glanced toward the woman, then stiffened. During the altercation between him and the gunman, instead of moving down the trail or ducking for cover behind a tree, she’d backed up close to the edge again.

“Miss Ingram.” He kept his voice low and soothing so he wouldn’t startle her. “Jody, right?”

She swallowed, then nodded.

“Jody, I’d feel a whole lot better if you’d step away from that sharp drop-off.”

She glanced over her shoulder. A visible shudder ran through her as she hurried forward and to the side. She’d been mere inches from falling off the cliff and was exceedingly lucky the unstable edge hadn’t given way.

“How about you move over there?” He directed her closer to the wall of rock, a little farther up the path and out of reach of his prisoner if the man decided to launch himself at either of them.

She did as he’d directed. But instead of looking relieved that she no longer had a pistol pointing at her, she seemed even more anxious than before. Her face was chalk white, making her green eyes and matching glasses stand out in stark contrast. Even her lips had lost their color, and her whole body was shaking.

Why?

“Everything’s okay now,” he reassured her. “You’re safe. What’s this guy’s name?”

She exchanged an uneasy glance with the handcuffed man, then shook her head. “I...I don’t know. We, ah, ran into each other on the trail.”

Adam glanced back and forth between them, beginning to wonder whether he should put her in handcuffs, too. They were hiding something. What was going on here?

“You’re strangers? You’ve never met before?”

She swallowed. “We’ve never met. I’d just rounded the curve and he was...there. I...ah...startled him, which is why he drew his gun.” She gave a nervous laugh. “I guess he thought I was a bear.” Again, she gave a nervous laugh that was anything but convincing.

A smile creased Tattoo Guy’s lips as he watched the exchange over his shoulder.

“You don’t know each other’s names?” Adam asked, giving her another chance to answer him truthfully.

“No.”

He shook his head, not even trying to hide his disbelief. “You have a habit of getting into heated arguments with strangers?”

Her face flushed guiltily. “He drew a gun on me. I wasn’t happy about that. Things did get a bit...heated...with him demanding to know why I’d snuck up on him. Which, of course, I hadn’t. But looking back, I can see how it appeared that way to him.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze. Subterfuge obviously didn’t come naturally to her. So why was she covering for this guy? Or was she covering for both of them?

He tried again, working hard to inject patience into his tone. “You were arguing with each other over him putting the gun down?”

She cleared her throat. “Yes, pretty much.” Another nervous laugh.

Her story had more holes in it than a white-tailed fawn had spots. Instead of rescuing her from a domestic dispute between a couple, had he interrupted a disagreement between a couple of criminals? Were they out here doing something illegal and they’d turned on each other? Or maybe whatever they’d planned was still to come, something far worse than trespassing on a closed trail or carrying a gun into a national park. Adam backed up the path several feet so he could keep Jody—if that was her real name—in his line of sight at a safer distance, just in case she and Tattoo Guy decided to join forces against him.

“Let me guess,” he said. “You don’t have ID on you, either?”

She cleared her throat again. “Actually, no. I don’t. I left my purse in my car, at the trailhead. All I have with me are my keys and my phone.”

“Empty your pockets.”

Her brow furrowed, and she finally looked at him. “Excuse me?”

“Would you prefer that I pat you down like I did your friend?”

Twin spots of color darkened her cheeks, making her freckles stand out in stark contrast to her pale complexion. Her eyes flashed with anger. “I assure you, he’s not my friend.”

That statement, at least, appeared to be true. But he could tell she immediately regretted her outburst by the way her teeth tugged at her full lower lip.

His prisoner’s eyes narrowed at her, as if in warning. Something was definitely rotten in the state of Denmark, or in this case, the Smoky Mountains. And Adam was determined to get to the bottom of it.

“Your pockets, ma’am?”

Without a word, she pulled her phone out of one pocket, a set of keys out of the other. Clutching them both in one hand, she turned out the lining of her pockets to show they were empty. “That’s it. There’s nothing else.”

“Back pockets, too.”

Her mouth tightened but she turned around and turned those pockets inside out.

“All right,” Adam conceded. “You can turn around.” To perform a complete search, he should pat down her bra. But his years of reading people told him that wasn’t necessary. She wasn’t carrying.

“Where do you live?”

Again, another look at the handcuffed man as she shoved her keys and phone back into her pockets. “Not far from here. I’ve got an apartment in town.”

“Gatlinburg?”

Again, she hesitated. “Yes.”

“Why were you two up here today?”

She chewed her bottom lip.

Tattoo Guy simply stared at him, eyes narrowed with the promise of retribution over Adam’s interference in whatever was going on.

“Maybe my question wasn’t clear,” Adam said. “Why were you both on a closed trail?”

“Closed?” The man sounded shocked. “Really? Miss Ingram, did you see any signs saying the trail was closed?” Laughter was heavy in his voice as he watched her.

“N...no.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I didn’t. I guess I was...enjoying nature too much and wasn’t paying attention.”

Disgusted with both of them, Adam flipped the radio on again. “Ranger McKenzie to base. Come in. Over.” He tried two more times, then gave up.

“I don’t know what you two are hiding. But at a minimum you’re guilty of criminal trespass. This trail is closed for a reason. The recent wildfires have burned away brush that used to hold the topsoil in place. What the high winds and fire didn’t destroy, recent rains did. Entire sections of the trail have been washed away. Trees have been toppled, their roots ripping up most of what was left. The trail is more a memory than a reality anymore. The part we’re standing on is one of the best sections left. But it’s the exception rather than the rule. You already know that, of course. Because you had to climb over and around some of the damage on your way up. No way you missed it.”

He waited for their response and wasn’t surprised when neither of them said anything.

“It’s also against the law for civilians to carry guns into the park. Care to explain why you had a loaded pistol up here, sir?”

“Protection, of course. I’ve heard there are all kinds of dangers in these mountains.” He kept his gaze fastened on Jody.

As if she felt his eyes on her, she shivered.

What the heck was going on? Had Tattoo Guy just given the woman a veiled threat? Was he one of the dangers he’d just mentioned? Even though Adam had zero doubt that Jody Ingram was covering something, his instincts were telling him that she was a victim here. But since neither of them would talk, he had no choice but to bring both of them in.

“Am I under arrest, Ranger?” The man drew out Adam’s title into several extra syllables, then chuckled. He wasn’t the first to make fun of the ranger title. But Adam wasn’t inclined to care. He just wanted this guy off the mountain before he hurt someone.

“For now, you’re just being detained, for everyone’s safety. We’ll sort it all out at headquarters. Those are prison tats on your arms, aren’t they? I’m sure your fingerprints are on file. Won’t take but a minute to find out who you are once I get you back to base. And if you’re a felon with a gun, well, we’ll just have to deal with that issue, won’t we?”

If looks could kill, Adam would be six feet under right now.

He’d dealt with all types over the years, the worst of the worst back when he’d first started out in law enforcement as a beat cop in some of the rougher parts of Memphis. But because of Adam’s own intimidating size, he could count on one hand the number of men who made him uncomfortable. This man was one of them. There was something sinister, jaded, so...empty about him. As if long ago he’d poured out his soul and filled the emptiness with pure evil.

He motioned for him to start down the trail, in the direction toward the Appalachian Trail intersection and Clingmans Dome—a famous lookout point high in the Smoky Mountains. “Take it slow and easy.”

His prisoner calmly pushed away from the rock wall. As he started walking down the path, he whistled the same tune that Adam had whistled earlier, “Highway to Hell.”

Jody watched him go, fear and trepidation playing a game of tug-of-war across her face. Adam wanted to reassure her. But she’d done nothing but lie to him. Trusting her would be a mistake. Instead, he gestured for her to fall in beside him and they started down the steep incline about ten feet behind his prisoner.

“He can’t hear you now.” Adam kept his voice low as they carefully stepped around boulders and climbed over downed trees. “What was really going on back there?”

She accepted his hand to help her over a pile of rocks and busted branches. There were pieces of splintered wood and rocks everywhere, making it slow going. The prisoner up ahead navigated the same obstacles with surprising ease for a man with his hands behind him. There was now twelve feet of space between them. Adam frowned and motioned for Jody to speed up.

“Well?” he prodded, watching Tattoo Guy’s back.

“I already told you. I didn’t see the closed-trail signs and I was walking through the park enjoying the scenery. I rounded a curve and scared that man. He drew his gun. I’m sure he would have put it away, but then you came up and things got...complicated.”

“That’s how you’re going to play this?”

She stared straight ahead.

Frustration curled inside him. “You don’t have to be afraid of him. I can protect you, help you find a way out of whatever trouble you’re in. Just tell me the truth.”

She made a choked sound, then cleared her throat. “I am telling you the truth.”

He let out a deep sigh. This was going to be a very long day.

Up ahead, the rock wall made a sharp curve to the left.

“Hold it,” Adam called out to Tattoo Guy. “The trail gets much steeper and more treacherous there. I’ll have to help you.”

The man took off running.

Adam grabbed his pistol out of the holster. “Stay here!” He sprinted after his prisoner.

Chapter Three

Stay here? Was he worried that she’d run after the bad guy? It took courage to chase a man who’d pointed a pistol at you and made threats. She wasn’t courageous. If she was, she would have fought harder after the auditor absolved her adoptive father of any wrongdoing in regards to her trust. She would have taken back what she believed he’d stolen from her. But she hadn’t. She wouldn’t. Because she was a coward. Being courageous and fighting back had never done her any good. It had only made things worse. So somewhere along the line, just giving in had become a habit.

Still, not at least checking on the ranger seemed wrong. So she kept moving forward, toward where he’d disappeared, even though she had no idea what she’d do if he needed help. She certainly hadn’t done anything to help her best friend, the friend who was the only reason she’d survived her awful foster, later turned adoptive, family.

Where are you, Tracy? That man had to be lying. You have to be hiding somewhere, safe, not some thug’s prisoner.

The curve where the ranger and his prisoner had disappeared loomed up ahead. What was the officer’s name? Adam something. McKenzie, maybe? Yes, that was it. Cool name for a hot guy. Of course, she hadn’t been thinking about his good looks during that frightening standoff. She’d stared up into those deep blue eyes and all she could think was that her friend Tracy was about to die, because of Jody’s own stupidity. Her only chance to save her friend had been to lie, or so she’d thought. But she hadn’t lied convincingly. She’d been too dang scared to pull it off.

Hysterical laughter bubbled up in her chest. Pull what off? What had she thought she could do? Convince a police officer that someone pointing a gun at someone else was no more significant than changing lanes on a highway without signaling? That Adam McKenzie would give them a warning and let them go on their merry way?

Once again, she’d had a choice to make. Once again, she’d made the wrong one. What she should have done was be honest, tell the ranger exactly what was going on. The time for going it alone had evaporated the second a man with scary tattoos had pulled a gun on her. What was she supposed to do now? If she told McKenzie the truth, would that sign Tracy’s death warrant? Probably. Maybe. All she knew for sure was that Tracy needed help. But when help had arrived, in the form of a handsome, dark-haired ranger, she’d squandered the opportunity. And put him in danger, too.

Why hadn’t he come back yet?

She stopped and peered down the trail, or what was left of it. McKenzie hadn’t exaggerated its hazardous condition. She’d leaped over rock slides and logs a dozen times as she’d run from the man with the gun. He’d caught her, of course. Had she really thought she’d get away? Just like one of those too-stupid-to-live women in a horror movie, she’d run up the stairs instead of out of the house. Or, in this case, up the trail instead of back to her car.

Idiot. Stupid, cowardly idiot.

Her hands fisted at her sides. To be fair, she couldn’t have reached her car. He was standing in the way, and there really had been nowhere else to go. Self-recriminations weren’t helping. She was in deep, deep trouble and had no clue how to fix it, or even whether it could be fixed. But she at least needed to try. Standing here, waiting, wasn’t accomplishing anything. It certainly wasn’t finding her missing friend or saving an officer who might be in trouble.

She took a hesitant step toward the curve, then another. Her hand itched for the security of her pistol. But, of course, the one time she actually needed her gun it was locked in the safe in her apartment. That decision, at least, she couldn’t feel bad about. There was no way she could have predicted what would happen when she drove up here in response to Tracy’s text. That she might be in danger had never entered her mind.

When she reached the curve, she squatted down by the wall of rock and peered around the edge. Her stomach sank, as if she’d plummeted down a steep roller-coaster drop. McKenzie no longer had his gun. Instead, he stood about twenty feet away from her, hands in the air. And directly in front of him was another man pointing a pistol directly at McKenzie’s chest.

The man McKenzie had handcuffed was still cuffed. But he was leaning against a tree another ten feet beyond the ranger and the other gunman. His face bore an angry, impatient expression as he watched the standoff.

McKenzie shifted slightly, revealing some bloody cuts on the right side of his face. She drew a sharp breath. All three men jerked their heads toward her. She pressed a hand to her throat, belatedly realizing she must have made a sound.

“Nice of you to join us, Jody,” the handcuffed man called out, his earlier cocky grin back in place. “Stay right where you are. Remember what I told you.” He half turned, looking over his shoulder at the other gunman as he flexed his hands. “Owen, just get the dang keys already and get these things off me. Officer Mayberry can wait.”

Jody swallowed, his earlier threats running through her mind. Somehow he’d gotten it into his head that she had something he wanted. And he was using Tracy as leverage. It stood to reason that she could do the opposite, couldn’t she? Leverage whatever he thought she had in return for Tracy’s safety? If she helped McKenzie, wouldn’t the bad guy have to keep Tracy alive until he got what he wanted?

She curled her nails against her palms. Why was she even debating with herself? It wasn’t like she could just run away. No matter what, she couldn’t ignore the fact that Adam McKenzie was right here, unarmed and outnumbered, with a gun pointed at him. He needed help. She had to do something. But what could she do?

The man named Owen had keys in his left hand now, keys that he must have taken from McKenzie. His gaze stayed on the ranger as he trained the pistol on him and backed toward the tree.

McKenzie’s gaze locked on Jody. He glanced to the right, toward the curve of rock wall and subtly jerked his head. Clearly, he wanted her to run up the path, to escape while she could.

She shook her head, even though she really, really wanted to give in to her cowardice and do exactly that—retreat, run, hide. But she’d just had this particular argument with herself. And lost.

His jaw clenched. He obviously wasn’t happy with her response. He jerked his head again.

Ignoring his unspoken command, she studied the other two men. The one with the gun was fumbling with the set of keys. Their attention was temporarily diverted. McKenzie must have realized the same thing. He edged toward her. One foot. Two feet. When he was about ten feet away, he took off running toward her.

A shout sounded behind him. He grabbed Jody’s arm and yanked her around the corner as more shouts and curses sounded.

“The cuffs, the cuffs! Hurry!” The handcuffed guy was apparently ordering Owen to remove the cuffs before they took off in pursuit.

“Go, go, go!” McKenzie’s fingers tightened around her upper arm, pulling her up the trail. When a downed tree blocked their way, he lifted her up as if she weighed nothing and leaped over the tree. He set her on her feet and they took off again.

The clomp-clomp of boots pounding up the path sounded behind them. She looked over her shoulder. The first gunman didn’t have his hands cuffed anymore. The short delay of removing them had given her and McKenzie a head start. But their lead was dwindling.

“Come on.” McKenzie pulled her around rocks, over branches, at an impossibly fast pace.

“I’m trying,” she gasped, struggling to match his long strides. She already knew she couldn’t outrun the man behind them going uphill. She’d tried once and failed. Keeping up with the tall, long-legged McKenzie was impossible.

“Stop or we’ll shoot!” the man named Owen yelled at them.

She started to look over her shoulder again. But McKenzie tugged her forward.

“Don’t look back. It’ll only slow you down.” He yanked her around another curve in the trail.

A shot rang out. Jody instinctively ducked. But McKenzie was already pulling her under some thick branches from another downed tree. He came out the other side, hopped over more branches, then lifted her over.

A bullet whined past them. She let out a startled gasp and pressed a hand to her galloping heart. Good grief, that was close. McKenzie didn’t react at all. Was the man used to getting shot at? He pulled her behind a huge boulder that was clustered with several others and pushed her down. He scanned the area around them, up the trail, out toward the open vista of mountains that alternated between blackened bald spots and new spring greenery poking up through the ashes.

The twin peaks of the Chimney Tops, two of the higher mountains in the park, stood out in stark relief from the destruction around them. She’d never even been in the park before, other than sitting in a car looking out the window as her adoptive father wheeled and dealed for yet another parcel of land. The only reason she recognized that particular landmark was because a new client had shown her pictures of them a few weeks ago and was considering hiring her to take new ones for a tourist brochure. What she didn’t understand was why McKenzie was looking at the Chimney Tops. It wasn’t like they had a helicopter and could magically fly to them and escape.

His gaze flicked back to her. “I need to know whether I can trust you.”

The cuts on his face had guilt flooding through her. “I could have run when you told me to. But I didn’t leave you behind. Isn’t that proof enough?”

He seemed to consider that, then shrugged. “For now, you’re going to have to trust me.”

She gave a nervous laugh. “Well, I certainly don’t trust the guys shooting at us. Where are they?” She tried to peek around the largest boulder. He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t. They’ve hunkered down behind the last tree we jumped over, about forty feet back. I imagine they’re waiting to see if I’m going to pull a weapon from my backpack, since they made me toss my pistol into the ravine and took Tattoo Guy’s pistol away from me.”

Hope unfurled in her chest. “Do you? Have a backup gun?”

He shook his head. “I’ve got a hunting knife. But you know the saying about bringing a knife to a gunfight.”

“I’m really good with a knife. I could throw it at them. All I’d need is some kind of diversion to get one of them to stand up and give me a clear target.”

As soon as she said it, she realized she’d made a mistake. He was looking at her with open suspicion again.

“In college,” she rushed to explain, “I hired a guy who ran a gun range to teach me to defend myself. He taught me to shoot. But he also taught me how to throw a knife.”

“Ever thrown a knife at a real, live person?”

“No, of course not, but—”

Bam! Bam!

They both ducked at the shockingly loud sound of pistol fire.

She drew a shaky breath. “Well?” She held out her hand for the knife.

“I’m not giving up my only weapon just yet.”

She dropped her hand. “You have a better suggestion?”

He looked toward the Chimney Tops again. “I’m considering a few possibilities.”

“Is one of them to crouch down and use these boulders to block them from seeing us retreat up the path, back the way you came? We might be able to get pretty far up the trail before they realize we’re gone.”

“That’s a good suggestion, except for one problem.” He shrugged out of his backpack and unzipped the top. “The trail straightens out after that next curve, with no cover of any kind for about three hundred yards. It’s also unstable. There’s a lot of debris but nothing sizable enough to hide us from view. The odds of us making it that far before those guys work up the courage to storm our little hideout are too low to make it worth the risk.” He pulled out a length of white nylon rope and the knife he’d mentioned earlier.

She was about to argue with him, but the rope made her pause. “What’s the rope for?”

“So we don’t die.”

It took several seconds for her to realize he wasn’t going to expand on his cryptic answer. Instead, he shoved the knife into a leather holder and tucked it into his backpack. After slipping the pack onto his shoulders, he connected some extra straps on the pack that he hadn’t bothered to fasten earlier. One went over his chest. Two more attached the pack to his belt loops with metal clips. She thought they might be called carabiners, like she’d used when Tracy had badgered her into going on a zip-lining trip in Pigeon Forge to celebrate Jody’s new, second job at Campbell Investigations.

“What are you doing?” she tried again.

He picked up the length of rope that he’d cut. His fingers fairly flew as he tied knots and created loops.

She watched him with growing frustration. The gunmen could be creeping up on them this very minute. So why was he tying knots? She hated being kept in the dark. Her life was on the line just as much as his.

And Tracy’s.

He pulled on one of the loops as if testing it, then let out a few more inches, making it larger.

“Are you going to tie them up or try to lasso them or what?” she snapped, unable to hide her frustration any longer.

For the first time since he’d appeared on the trail with a goofy, dumb-as-a-rock grin, he gave her a genuine smile. It lit up his eyes and made him look years younger than the thirty-one or -two that she’d assumed him to be. Maybe he was only in his late twenties?

“Lasso them? Can’t say that’s ever been part of my law enforcement training. Might be a good skill to learn, though.”

He continued to work the rope through the metal clips. “Hypothetical. We figure out a way to get Owen or Tattoo Guy to stand up and give us a clear target. You do a Wonder Woman move and take him out. That leaves the second thug with two pistols, and potentially other weapons we don’t even know about. We’re left without even a knife to defend ourselves. What would we do then?”

“Maybe I do another Wonder Woman move and lasso the second guy.”

His lips twitched as if he was trying not to laugh. He looped the rope through one of the backpack’s metal clips.

She curled her fingers against her thighs. It was either that or shake him. She closed her eyes for a moment and drew deep, calming breaths. Their lives were on the line and this man was pushing all her buttons. What she needed to do was calm down and think. There had to be something they could do instead of just waiting here playing with a rope. She opened her eyes again, then frowned. “What are you doing?”

He swept the ground between them clear of debris, scattering several broken pieces of branches and twigs, then motioned for her to move toward him. Exasperated, but curious enough to see if he actually had some kind of plan, she scooted toward him on her knees. He closed the distance and slid the rope through one of the belt loops on her shorts.

“McKenzie. What are—”

“Give me a minute.”

She blew out an irritated breath and held her hands out of the way as he threaded the rope through all the loops on her shorts. When he was done, he tied the end of the rope to another metal loop on his backpack, effectively anchoring them to each other, with just a few feet in between.

“McKenzie?”

He tilted her chin up so she was looking into his eyes. “Is your name really Jody?”

She swallowed, her whole body flushing with heat when she realized just how close her breasts were to his chest, her lips to his. “Y...yes. Jody Vanessa Ingram.” She hated that her voice came out a breathy whisper.

“Pretty name.”

“Vanessa was my biological mom’s name.” Why had she said that? It didn’t matter one bit under the circumstances.

He smiled. “Well, Jody Vanessa. We’re about to explore one of those possibilities I mentioned earlier. And I think it’s time you called me Adam. Don’t you?”

His deep voice and cool blue eyes seemed to cast a spell on her. She couldn’t think with him this close, could barely even breathe.

“Come on out from behind that rock and we won’t kill you,” Owen shouted. “All we want to do is talk.”

She blinked. The spell was broken. Thank goodness. “McKenzie... I mean, Adam. What’s the plan here? Why did you—”

He tugged the rope, pulling them even closer together. “This is where that trust part comes into play.”

She licked her suddenly dry lips. “I’m not sure what you—”

He grabbed one of the short, broken pieces of branch that he’d swept out of the way earlier and tossed it over the top of the boulder.

Boom! The stick exploded into sawdust.

Jody ducked down, even though she was already behind the boulder.

Adam winced but didn’t duck. “They’re better shots than I’d hoped. This is going to be close.”

“Close? What are you—”

He grabbed her around the waist.

She read the truth in his eyes and suddenly realized what he was going to do. The rope. The fact that he’d tied the two of them together. Him staring out at the Chimney Tops and telling her she needed to trust him. Her stomach lurched, and she pushed against his chest, to no avail. He didn’t budge and the rope wouldn’t have let her move very far anyway. “No. No, no, no. Please. I can’t do this. I’m too scared. I can’t.”

Sympathy filled his gaze. He brushed a featherlight caress down the side of her face. “Then I’ll just have to do it for both of us.” He grabbed two more sticks and threw them high into the air. Shots rang out. He yanked her forward, clasping her tightly against his chest as he raced in a crouch behind the boulders toward where the trail disappeared over the edge of the mountain.

“No!” she cried, desperately pushing against him. “Please!”

The gunmen shouted.

Adam yanked her forward. She screamed as they tumbled over the cliff.

Chapter Four

They hit the ground hard, a tangle of arms and legs flopping end over end. Jody’s head snapped against Adam’s chest. Blood filled her mouth. She was too busy trying to grab a tree, a root, anything to stop their out-of-control roll down the steep mountainside to even cry out in pain.

“Hold on,” his voice rumbled next to her ear as his arms squeezed her against his chest.

She caught a glimpse of another steep drop, then sucked in a startled breath and closed her eyes. Shots rang out from somewhere above them as they plummeted into open space again.

We’re going to die.

Strong arms clasped her so tightly she thought her body would break in two. Then she hit something hard—or he did, because she was on top of him. Their entwined bodies bounced several more times and slid a heart-stopping few more yards. Then, just as suddenly as their wild flight had begun, it was over. His chest rose and fell beneath hers, his ragged breaths fanning against the top of her head. But other than that, and her own gasping breaths, the world was blessedly still.

We didn’t die.

Yet.

Her eyes flew open. Miraculously, her glasses had somehow survived the tumble down the mountain and were still on. Which gave her a startlingly clear view of a pair of brilliant blue eyes staring directly into hers from just inches away. It was only then that she realized just how intimately she was pressed against him. Her breasts were crushed to his chest, her cleavage straining the top of her lacy bra, her blouse having surrendered several buttons. Her right thigh was sandwiched between both of his legs, pressing against a very warm spot that left little to the imagination about just how well-proportioned he was to his taller-than-average height. Her cheeks flaming, she tried to scramble off him.

“Hold it, wait.” His harsh whisper had her going still as his hands tightened on her arms. He tilted his head back and looked up the mountain they’d just tumbled down, apparently searching for the gunmen.

Her gaze followed his. She didn’t see anyone. But what she did see had her shaking again. How they’d managed to fall so far through such rough terrain without being killed was a mystery. As she noticed the deep skid and slide marks down the grassy and rocky terrain, and the broken tree branches that marked their path, she realized that maybe it wasn’t such a mystery after all. Her benefactor had rolled and tugged and pulled her to him the entire ride down. That was the only thing that explained how they hadn’t crashed into boulders and trees and been killed. He’d done that. He’d protected both of them.

Or he’d protected her, at least.

Her eyes filled with tears as she realized just what his noble actions had cost him. Blood was drying on his face from his earlier cuts, likely from an altercation or ambush by the second gunman, the one named Owen. More blood streaked his arms and neck. A long gash marred his left biceps, blood trickling from a wound that was smeared with dirt. A black shadow was already darkening on his forehead where he’d obviously smacked it against something. And her? Other than a bitten tongue, dirty and torn clothes, and a few stinging minor cuts on her arms and legs, she was unharmed.

“You’re hurt,” she said. “I’m so sorry. Do you have a first-aid kit in your backpack? I can dress your wounds.”

His gaze shot to hers. “Are you okay? You’re crying.”

The concern in his voice as he reached a hand toward her had shame and guilt flaring up inside. She jerked back to scramble off him but slammed down against his chest because of the rope that still connected them.

“Sorry, sorry. Dang it.” She wiped the tears away and tried to tug the rope free.

“Here, let me.” His deep voice was soft again, gentle, as he pressed the carabiners on each side of his pack. A few quick tugs on the knots and they seemed to magically unravel. Another yank and the slick nylon rope pulled free from her belt loops.

She pressed against the ground on either side of his chest and pushed herself up off him, then sat back on her heels and yanked the ends of her blouse back together to cover her bra.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, sitting up.

She nodded. “Thanks to you, I’m fine. But you’re not.” She waved toward the dozens of cuts on his arms, his face. “You took the brunt of the fall to protect me. Why would you do that?”

He frowned as if in confusion. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s my job.”

She shook her head, unable to fathom such selfless thinking. “First-aid kit?”

“Later.” He pushed to his knees and looked up again. “I don’t see our two friends.”

She followed his gaze to the cliff, which seemed impossibly far away. She still couldn’t believe they’d rolled down the mountain and hadn’t gotten killed, or shot, or both. But thankfully the gunmen weren’t standing there, aiming a pistol at them.

“Why aren’t they still up there, trying to shoot us?” she asked. “Maybe they didn’t think we’d survive the drop?” She shivered and wrapped her hands around her waist. “Maybe they’re worried someone heard the shots, so they took off?”

He shook his head. “Unless there are more trespassers ignoring the trail-closed signs, there’s no one else to hear the gunshots. And I don’t see our friends just moseying to their car and heading back where they came from after all the trouble they went to. They’re after something. And they don’t have it yet.” His eyes stared deep into hers, once again darkening with suspicion. “How much motivation do they have, Jody? Enough to figure out a way down that mountain to come after us?”

A cold chill shot through her. She looked up again. But the only thing above them was a bright blue sky and a hawk gliding over the mountaintops.

“Jody? Who were those men? Why are they after you?” He climbed to his feet and helped her stand.

She stepped back so she could meet his gaze without getting a crick in her neck. “You’re bleeding. I really think we should get the first aid kit.” She took another step back.

He grabbed her waist and yanked her to the side. “Haven’t you ever been in the mountains before? Never back up without looking first.”

She glanced over her shoulder and sucked in a breath. The blood seemed to drain from her body, leaving her cold and shaking. Once again, she’d been close to the edge of another drop-off and had nearly plunged over the side.

Swallowing hard, she pressed a shaking hand to her throat. “Thank you. You’ve saved me more times than I can count and we’ve known each other for less than an hour.”

“We need to go.” He put a hand to the small of her back and urged her toward the charred woods to their right.

“Go where? It looks like we’re heading toward another cliff.” She tried to stop, but his hand was firm, pushing her forward.

“We’ll make our own path. We have to. Out here we’re too much in the open.” He held back a branch on a new sapling that had sprouted from the destruction.

They rounded a curve in the mountain, the going steep, treacherous, with loose rocks underfoot. A few yards farther and they were surrounded by trees, half of them scorched but miraculously still standing. Some of them supported canopies of new growth in spite of their blackened trunks. The underbrush had resurged here. Many of the bushes were taller than both of them.

Far below, water gurgled and rushed over boulders. She caught glimpses of it through breaks in the trees. Rocks in the middle of the stream created eddies and little rapids. The artist in her craved a few moments to stand there and gape at the beauty below, to frame it in her mind’s eye like she’d frame a camera shot. But the reality of their situation, and the imposing ranger beside her, had her hurrying as fast as she could manage through the rough terrain.

He took the outside, near the steep drop, using the rise of the mountain as a barrier against her falling over the edge. His gaze was never still. He constantly scanned the woods around them, looking up at the mountain that rose above their heads. His constant vigilance should have made her feel secure. Instead, it only reminded her of the danger they were in.

She finally grabbed one of the saplings they were passing and used it as an anchor in the sea of fear that threatened to pull her under. “Wait.”

He stopped beside her, brows raised in question.

“Your arms—some of the cuts are still bleeding. And they need to be cleaned so they don’t get infected. Do you have medical supplies in your pack?”

“You’re stalling, Jody. We need to get moving.”

She waved a hand toward the trees surrounding them. “Unless those gunmen take a swan dive over a cliff or have billy goat ancestors, I don’t see how they could follow us. It’s too steep and rocky.”

“They don’t have to get too close. They just need one clear shot. Up on the trail, we were jumping over downed trees and weaving around curves. Plus, their adrenaline was probably pumping pretty good. Otherwise they wouldn’t have missed. I don’t want to hang around in one spot and give them a perfect target.”

Her hand tightened around the sapling. “You’re not helping.”

He frowned again. “Helping with what?”

She huffed out an impatient breath. “I’m scared, okay? Right now I’m more afraid of plunging headfirst over a cliff again than some gunmen who may or may not be following us.”

His expression softened. “I wish I didn’t have to force you to keep going. But I don’t see those guys giving up that easily.”

She swallowed. “Why do you say that?”

“Because they thought nothing of trying to shoot a federal officer. Your average thug thinks twice in a situation like that. They don’t want to risk bringing the wrath of the feds down on them. But our guys not only shot at us multiple times, they risked their own lives running up a dangerous trail to do it. My guess is they might lie low for a little while to see whether backup arrives. But not for long. Then they’ll be looking for a way to hike down here and find us.”

He motioned toward the radio hooked to his belt. “I’ve turned this thing on half a dozen times since our flight down the mountain. There’s no signal, not even a burst of static. One of the radio towers was destroyed in the wildfires. What we have to do is get within range of another tower so we can radio for help. Until then, we keep going.” He arched a brow. “Unless you can tell me why those men might decide to hightail it out of here without finishing us off. Just what are they after? Who are they?”

She hesitated.

His jaw tightened. “Jody—”

“I don’t know their names, other than the one calling the other Owen in front of both of us.”

“You’re splitting hairs. Not knowing their full names and not knowing what they want are two very different things. You were arguing with the first man when I approached. He later warned you to remember what he’d told you. What were you arguing about? What did he want you to remember?”

Without waiting for her reply, he pried her hand from the tree and tugged her through the woods.

Her foot skidded on some loose rocks. She let out a yelp, but he grabbed her around the waist and steadied her before she could fall.

“I’ve got you,” he said. “Try not to worry. My boots hold the trail a lot better than your sneakers. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay?”

His voice was gentle again. But there was an underlying thread of steel. He wanted answers. And he deserved them. Even if it meant she might go to jail, or at the least, have all her career aspirations ruined. All those years of college, the sacrifices she’d made, the two jobs she was holding down were for nothing. In one stupid week, she’d destroyed it all.

She jerked to a halt, pressing a hand to her throat. “I can’t believe how selfish I’m being, thinking about my future career and prison when Tracy’s missing.” She moved her hand to her stomach. “That’s just the kind of thing my adoptive father would do.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Your career? Prison? Wait, who’s Tracy?”

Chapter Five

Jody groaned and whirled around, gagging as she dropped to her knees and emptied the contents of her stomach.

Suddenly a strong arm was around her waist and a gentle hand swept her hair back from her face, holding it loosely behind her as Adam spoke soothing words in her ear. She was too sick and miserable to protest his help. The spasms wouldn’t seem to stop and she started dry heaving.

“Deep breaths,” he said. “Slow, deep breaths. You’ll be okay. Slow and easy.”

Somehow the sound of his voice calmed her. She dragged in a deep breath, then another. The knots in her stomach eased, and she could finally breathe normally without feeling like her stomach was trying to kill her.

Her world suddenly tilted as he scooped her up into his arms. Before she could even ask him what he was doing, he’d set her down several feet away beneath the branches of a thick stand of trees. The realization that he was giving them cover in case the bad guys were around had her stomach clenching with dread. She pressed a hand to her belly.

“This should help.” A bottle of water and a wet cloth appeared as if by magic as he handed them to her from the backpack he’d been carrying.

She rinsed her mouth out and spit. After a long drink, she washed her face with the cloth.

“Better?” He was on his knees in front of her, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Better. Thank you.” She swept her hair back from her shoulders. Heat flushed her skin at the realization of what had just happened. She groaned and covered her face. “I can’t believe you witnessed that. And that you helped me. I’m so embarrassed.”

He tugged her hands down. “Jody, what made you so upset? Who’s Tracy? Is she in trouble?”

She nodded miserably. “I think so. She texted me. That’s why I was on the trail. Well, partly, anyway. I mean, I was in the parking lot. But she wasn’t there, so I checked the bathrooms, and when I came out, that guy was there...and he started toward me. I saw his gun sticking out of his pocket, so I ran. I just ran. Then he was there, on the trail, with the gun—”

“Take a breath.” He took one of her hands in his. “Back up. Who is Tracy?”

A ragged breath shuddered out of her. “My sister.” She waved her hand. “Not a real sister. She’s my friend. My very best friend. I don’t have any biological siblings, just adoptive sisters and brothers. Not that I’m knocking adoptive families in general. I think they can be wonderful, for other people. But it hasn’t turned out so well for me. We don’t exactly visit each other or exchange Christmas cards.” She drew a deep breath. “Tracy is not part of my adoptive family. She’s my friend, my best friend, more of a sister to me than my adoptive sisters ever were. And her family is more of a family to me than my adoptive one.” She closed her eyes and fisted her hands against the tops of her thighs.

“Tattoo Guy, he did something to her? To Tracy?”

She nodded and looked at him. “He abducted her. At least, that’s what he told me. I didn’t know, or I swear I would have called the police. I would never do anything to risk her life.” She pressed her hand to her throat. “I think I may have just killed her. By running, with you. I shouldn’t have done that.” She squeezed her eyes shut again.

“Jody, I need you to be strong. For your friend, okay? I know it’s hard. But you have to hold it together so we can figure out what to do. All right?”

She nodded and opened her eyes. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for. I’m going to ask you some questions and I need you to give me the answers. Short and to the point. And we need to keep moving while we talk.” He pulled her to her feet. “Can you do that?”

“I’ll try. Yes. I’m sorry.” She grimaced. “I know. Quit saying that.”

He smiled and pulled her with him through the trees. “What’s Tracy’s full name?”

“Larson. Her name is Tracy Larson.”

“Is she your age?”

“Yes. Twenty-four. We went to school together, from grade school through high school. She didn’t go to college. I went to TSU, Tennessee State University, I... Sorry. Short and to the point. I forgot. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I went to TSU, too. When’s the last time you saw her?”

She patted her pocket to check the time of Tracy’s last text messages on her phone. But her pocket was empty. They all were. “My phone and keys are gone.” She shook her head. “I know. Doesn’t matter. I think the last I heard from her was at work yesterday. She’s full-time. I’m part-time. I left at my usual two o’clock.”

He steered her around a downed tree. “Friday at 2:00 p.m.? You’re sure?”

“Pretty sure. I’m not counting the fake text this morning. The guy with the gun must have sent that. He tricked me.”

“We’ll get to that in a second. Are you sure you didn’t talk to Tracy on the phone after 2:00 p.m.?”

“Talk?”

His mouth quirked up in a smile. “Forgive me. I’m a doddering thirty-year-old who actually uses phones for spoken conversations. Let me rephrase. Did you text each other? Share anything on social media?”

She surprised herself by laughing, which seemed obscene given the situation. She quickly sobered. “Sorry. But the idea of you being described as doddering is ridiculous. Trust me, most women my age would count themselves lucky to be with a guy as smokin’ hot as you.”

Her face flushed with heat as soon as the words left her mouth. She absolutely refused to look at him. “Text, yes, we texted a few times. Nothing seemed out of the norm. Then, this morning, I got a new text from her saying she needed to meet me, that it was urgent. She said she’d be waiting in the parking lot at the Sugarland Mountain trailhead. I went to the visitor center, and her car wasn’t there. I texted her to ask where she was, and she said in the parking lot on the other end of the trail, not the visitor center. So I headed there. Only, when I got there, her car wasn’t there, either.”

Tears burned the backs of her eyes, but she refused to give in to the urge to cry again. She swallowed against her tight throat and continued. “There were a couple of cars besides mine on the other side of the lot. One of them was a minivan with a family and kids. I didn’t see anyone in the other car, a black Charger. Not then. The family went to use the public facilities by the beginning of the trail. Tracy texted back that she’d be there in a few minutes and to wait. I ducked into the restroom, chatted with some of the people from the minivan. They left before me. When I came out, they were just pulling out of the parking lot. That’s when he got out of the car.”

“Who? The guy with the tattoos?”

“Yes. I started toward my car, then stopped. He was walking really fast, straight toward me. But there wasn’t anyone else around. And the men’s restrooms were on the other side of the lot. There was no reason for him to be hurrying toward me. I don’t know how to explain it. But he gave me the creeps, and he was between me and my car. I didn’t want to let him get too close. So I walked toward the trail. I looked over my shoulder, and that’s when I saw the gun.” She swallowed. “He had a pistol sticking out of his pants pocket. I ran. I hopped over the cattle gate blocking the trail and took off. And he took off after me.”

“Did he fire the gun?”

She frowned. “No. No, he never did. Not until you and I were running up the trail later.”

He nodded as if that made sense to him. “Go on. You ran. Then what happened?”

“I used to run track in high school. I was pretty fast. But I’m not used to running up mountains or having to hop over downed trees. I couldn’t sprint and pull away like I would in a flat footrace. He caught up to me right where you saw us. And he...he pointed his gun at me. And he...” She drew a ragged breath.

“You’re doing great, Jody. Slow, deep breaths. What did he do next? What did he say to you?”

As much as she wanted to be strong for her friend, she was having a hard time holding back her terror. What was happening to Tracy right now? What had that man done to her? Was she even alive or had he lied to her?

“Jody. What did the man do when he caught you on the trail?” He steered her around a particularly rocky section and past some thorny shrubs.

She murmured her thanks and straightened. She could do this. She had to. For Tracy’s sake. “He told me I had something of his and he wanted it. He said if I didn’t give it to him, he would...he would kill Tracy.” In spite of her efforts to stay calm, tears tracked down her cheeks. “He had her phone, showed it to me. That’s how I knew he was telling the truth. He must have texted me to meet him there, pretending he was her. No way could he have gotten her phone without taking it from her. That thing is practically attached at her hip.”

He pulled her to a halt and grasped her shoulders. “What do you have that he wants?”

“I don’t have anything. I swear. He insisted I have pictures, maybe a video, or knew where they were. He said my boss had seen something he shouldn’t have and that there was a gap in the time stamps on the pictures.”

“Your boss?”

“Sam Campbell. He’s a private investigator. Tracy and I work for him.” She looked away, panic swelling inside her again. She’d been so stupid. So very, very stupid.

“You know what he’s after, don’t you?” The thread of steel was back in his voice.

She glanced up at him and wiped at the tears on her cheeks. “Not specifically, no. I assume that Sam performed surveillance on him, that he’s one of Sam’s clients. But all of Sam’s pictures and videos are locked up at the office. I told him that. He shook his head, said that he’d searched there already. That’s when we heard you whistling. He told me to keep my mouth shut, that Tracy would die if I told you anything.”

His eyes widened. “You lied to me up on the trail to get me to leave you two alone, knowing he had a gun? If I’d bought your story, you would have been all alone with him. He could have killed you.”

“I know. Looking back, it was stupid. But I didn’t know what else to do. Tracy—” Her voice broke.

“You thought he would kill her if you didn’t do what he told you. You risked your life for her. Whatever happens, you can’t blame yourself. You did what you could.”

She shook her head. “No. I was stupid, too scared to think straight. You don’t make deals with criminals. What I should have done was shove him or something when you came up and yelled a warning.” Her hand shook as she raked her hair back from her face. “You could have been killed.”

He frowned. “Is that why you came looking for me after I chased Tattoo Guy down the trail? You were trying to save me?”

She snorted. “Fat lot of good it did. I just slowed you down. And now you’re all scratched up and out here with me, without a weapon, with a couple of thugs possibly coming after us. I’m such an idiot.”

His warm, strong hand gently urged her chin up so she had to look at him.

She pushed his hand away. “Go ahead. Yell at me. My stupidity has probably gotten my friend killed and nearly got you killed. Every decision I made was wrong. You’d have thought I would have learned better at college.”

“What do you mean?”

“I studied criminal justice, graduated with honors. Not that it means I have any sense. Might as well tear up that piece of paper.”

He frowned. “Aren’t you being a bit hard on yourself? You drove up here because a friend said she needed you. A man chased you with a gun, threatened to kill your friend if you didn’t do what he said. And as soon as you had a chance to escape, instead, you went toward trouble, to help a law enforcement officer you thought was in need. From where I stand, that’s pretty darn amazing.”

She blinked. “What?”

“You have the education, but not the training or the experience. And you’re a civilian, unarmed. You did the best you could. I can’t find fault with any of your decisions.”

“Th...thank you?”

He smiled. “Come on. There are a lot of gaps in your story, like why someone with a criminal justice degree is working part-time as a private investigator.” He tugged her hand, then stopped and looked over his shoulder at her when she pulled back. “Jody?”

“I’m not a private investigator,” she confessed. “And when I tell you the rest, you aren’t going to think I did the best I could or made good decisions. I didn’t.”

He turned to face her. “Go on.”

“Tracy pretty much runs the office. I guess you’d call her an administrative assistant. I help Sam with his cases. But I’m not a licensed investigator, just a recent criminal justice grad trying to get some experience to help me get the job I really want—as a criminal investigator with the prosecutor’s office. But those jobs are few and far between, so I’m working two jobs to make ends meet and trying to get a step up on the competition when the job I want opens up.”

She waved her hand again. “Anyway, my point is that I’m his gofer, his researcher. Sometimes I interview clients and things like that. Sam does all the heavy lifting, and I take care of the grunt work.”

He studied her intently, as if weighing her every word. “So far I’m not hearing any bad decisions or things for you to be worried about.”

She tightened her hands into fists by her sides. “There’s more. I screwed up. I mean, really, really screwed up.” She let out a shaky breath and met his gaze again. “Sam disappeared a week ago. And before you ask, no, it’s not unusual. He’s had a tough time since his wife died of ovarian cancer about a year ago. He hits the bottle too hard. He usually shows up a few days later and will be fine for a while.” She clenched her fists so hard the nails dug into her palms. “We always cover for him when he’s on a binge. Do you understand what I’m telling you? He could lose his license if clients complain that he’s a drunk and messes up cases. And besides that, if he messes up the cases, the income stops rolling in. And, well, Tracy and I both rely on that income. We live paycheck to paycheck. No paycheck means no food, no rent.”

He stared at her intently. “You did more than run errands, didn’t you?”

She nodded. “We may have...pretended to be Sam to some of the clients, through correspondence in the mail...to close out cases, resolve issues.”

“You operated as PIs without a license. You’re worried that you may have committed fraud. Even worse, mail fraud. That’s a felony.”

She winced and looked away.

The silence stretched out between them.

“Jody. There’s more, isn’t there?”

She nodded slowly.

His sigh could have knocked over a tree. “Go on. Might as well tell me the rest.”

She swallowed, then forced herself to meet his gaze. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the cold, judgmental look she’d expected. Instead, he looked at her with something far worse.

Pity.

She stiffened her spine and confessed the rest of her sins.

“Sam is dead. Tracy and I killed him.”

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