Rocky Mountain Revenge. Cindi MyersЧитать онлайн книгу.
through on his threats.
Tonight had destroyed that hope. If she let herself think too much about what had just happened, she might fall apart. So she clung to anger and nurtured that instead. A man had invaded her home—her sanctuary—and tried to destroy her. She wouldn’t let that happen again.
Even if that meant depending on Jake in the short term. She needed him—and his gun—for protection right now. But as soon as she had a plan that would keep her safe, she’d say goodbye to him. She didn’t need—or want—him in her life again. In his own way, Jake was as tied to violence as her father had been. The fact that he wanted revenge, even though he wasn’t in law enforcement anymore, proved he was still a part of the violence. She was done with living that way, with danger and bloodshed as commonplace as Friday-night pizza or Sunday drives for other families.
When she emerged from the bedroom with the overnight bag and her coat, DiCello’s body was gone. Jake had cleaned the floor and thrown a quilt over the back of the sofa to hide the bloodstains. “I’ve done the best I can,” he said. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll take my rental car. It’s parked just down the street.”
“What kind of car is it?” she asked.
“A Pontiac Vibe. What difference does that make?”
She shook her head. “It isn’t four-wheel drive. We’ll take my Subaru.”
She could tell he wanted to argue. Jake liked to take charge, to have every situation under control. But this was her plan and she’d thought it out very carefully. “We’ll need the four-wheel drive on the Forest Service roads,” she said.
“Then give me your keys. I’ll drive.” He held out his hand.
She wrapped her hand more securely around the keys. “I know the way to the cabins and I’m a better driver in mountain snow than you are.” And focusing on driving would keep her from brooding over the man who had attacked her, and the images of him dying right before her eyes. Though her father had been responsible for many deaths, the only other one she’d seen close up had been Jake. She moved past him, out the door.
She expected him to argue more, but he didn’t, he merely slid into the passenger seat as she started the car. “You should call your friend Maggie, and tell her you’re going out of town for a few days. Tell her your mom is sick or something.”
“All right. I need to stop for gas. I’ll call her then. And I’ll call the U.S. marshal assigned to my case and let him know what’s going on.”
“Don’t tell him you’re with me.”
“Why not?”
“I’m supposed to be retired. They’ll see my presence as interfering.”
“You are interfering.” She gripped the steering wheel so tightly her fingers ached. “I was fine until you showed up.”
“It was a coincidence that your father’s goon showed up right after I did.”
“A pretty big coincidence, if you ask me.” She turned onto the main highway out of town. A few cars filled the parking spaces in front of the town’s only bar, but there was no one outside to see her car glide past, or to wonder what the teacher was doing out so late.
“Where is this gas station?” He changed the subject.
“About five miles, by the lake. It’s closed this time of night, but the electric pumps will take a credit card.”
“I suppose we’ll have to risk it. I’ll stay out of sight of the security cameras, so it will look like you’re alone.”
“Why do I need to look like I’m alone?”
“If you’re really on your way to visit your sick mother, why do you have a strange man with you?”
Right. She’d already forgotten the cover story he’d concocted. Not that she expected anyone to believe it. But maybe it would buy them a little time, and if anyone came around questioning Maggie, she’d have something to tell them.
Jake hid in the backseat while she fueled the car; then she parked around the side of the building, out of sight of the security cameras, and dialed Maggie’s number. A sleepy voice answered on the fifth ring. “Hello?”
“Hello, Ty? I’m so sorry to bother you this late. This is Anne. May I speak to Maggie?”
“Sure, Anne. Everything all right?”
“It’s fine. I just need to talk to Maggie a minute.”
After a few seconds of fumbling with the phone, Maggie came on the line. “Anne, what’s wrong?”
“I just learned my father is in the hospital in New York. I need to go up there and see him.” She was surprised how smoothly the lie rolled off her tongue. She felt like an actress, delivering a line in a play.
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. What’s wrong?”
“His heart. It...it doesn’t look so good, I guess.” Her father didn’t have a heart where she was concerned, but as far as Anne knew, his health was fine.
“You never talked much about your parents before.”
“My mother died when I was little.” True. “My father and I aren’t particularly close.” Also true.
“I understand. You want to try to patch things up before it’s too late. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll call Mr. Strand first thing in the morning and explain.”
Anne had been hoping to avoid a phone call to the principal. Lying to her best friend was bad enough; the more people she spoke with, the greater the chance of getting her story mixed up. “Thanks. I’ll call you again when I know when I’ll be home.”
“Don’t worry. Have you told Jake?”
“Jake?” She glanced at the man in the passenger seat and he sent her a questioning look. “Why would I tell Jake?”
“He’s from New York, isn’t he? He could fly back with you. Then you wouldn’t have to be alone.”
Maggie made it sound so romantic—the old flame comforting her in her time of need. In some ways, having Jake with her was comforting; at least he knew the truth about her. But she shouldn’t trust him, and being with him complicated the situation even more. “I haven’t seen Jake. He never knew my father, anyway.” More lies. She hoped her friend would forgive her one day for her deception. Not that Anne would be around to accept that forgiveness. Now that her father had learned her identity, the Marshals office would give her a new one. If she kept this up, she wouldn’t even remember who she was.
“I have to go now,” she said. “I’ll talk to you soon.” She hung up before Maggie could ask more questions.
“Do you think you convinced her?” Jake asked.
“I think so.” She scrolled through her phone directory until she found the number for U.S. Marshal Patrick Thompson.
He answered on the third ring, his voice as crisp and alert as if he’d been expecting her call. “Anne. Is something wrong?”
The concern in his voice brought a knot of tears to her throat. Marshal Thompson had always been kind, gentle even, treating her the way a caring big brother would look after his little sister. He’d done his best to make a horrible situation better, and the memory of that came rushing back at the sound of his voice. She struggled to rein in her emotions. Now was no time to break down. “One of my father’s men, a man named DiCello, broke into my house tonight,” she said. “He’s dead and I’m leaving. I thought you’d want to know.”
“Did he say how he found you? Did he say where your father is now?”
“No. We...we didn’t talk much.”
“You