Chapter Thirteen
An earthquake rocked through her.
Wait. No. That wasn’t right. Numbness prickled at the ends of her fingers.
Something dug into her stomach. She…didn’t feel right.
Her head pounded in rhythm to her steady heart rate.
Everything was heavy. She was moving. Swaying.
Low hissing reached her ears. Like two pieces of fabric moving against each other.
Soothing but wrong at the same time. Her weight shifted with each sway, punctuated by a dip.
Then came the pain. The hard thud in her face. Oh, hell. She was going to throw up.
Searing light pierced through the crack in her eyelids. The world had tipped upside down, and a whole new wave of nausea crested. Leaves and broken twigs and gray-white rocks slipped free of her vision with every step. Not her steps.
The unforgiving grip around the backs of her legs told her she was being carried like the sandbags rangers used to divert water from the trails.
Rome? No. Lettie nearly sank back into the sweet pull of unconsciousness.
This man. No. He didn’t smell right. Not like the hints of rock, crisp mountain air and wilderness.
This was something acrid. Sweat and detergent that smelled like fake lavender and evil.
The killer. Air lodged in her chest as he adjusted his hold on her and intensified the pressure in her middle.
Her hands hung limp down his back, her fingers brushing the waistband of his black pants.
It took everything she had not to tense against the wrongness of his touch.
What had Rome taught her in case she was ever in danger?
Shelter, water, fire, food. Except none of those applied here.
Breathe. She had to breathe. Lettie closed her eyes, relieved it didn’t seem to take as much energy to reopen them this time.
This wasn’t about wilderness survival. She could worry about those other priorities once she got free of her attacker.
If she got free. No. She couldn’t think like that.
What else had Rome said on the dozen hikes and hunts he’d forced her on?
If she was ever on her own. Her eyes burned as his voice filled her head.
Gather information. Determine your location.
Get help. She didn’t realize how much she’d missed hearing that voice.
How much of an effect it would have on her nervous system.
Okay. She could do that, which meant she needed to stay calm and take in as much as possible.
Without giving away she’d regained consciousness for as long as possible.
Her abductor had most likely taken her cell phone to keep her from reaching for help.
She hadn’t been carrying a map or a compass, so determining her location would take a lot more effort.
If she could somehow get out of the cover of these trees, she might be able to identify a mountain range.
A river or a wash might work, too. They couldn’t have made it too far from where she and Rome had veered off the trail on foot.
Unless she’d been unconscious a lot longer than she estimated.
While Zion was covered in mountains and rivers, each and every one was distinguishable when you had nothing left to do but submerge yourself in your work for six months.
Ugh. Who was she kidding? Her abductor wouldn’t let her go easily enough so she could narrow down her location.
Rome would find her. Because if he didn’t…
There wasn’t anyone else to report her missing.
Her parents loved her in their own way, but she’d made it a habit of distancing herself from them over the past six months, not willing to give them the ammunition to criticize her with news of her failed marriage.
Reasonably, they’d start to worry in another six months, and by then, it would be too late.
She didn’t have any siblings. No close friends other than a black bear that’d tried to eat her earlier today.
Her intern—Shawn—might wonder where she’d ended up, but considering he’d get credit for his work either way, he probably wouldn’t make too much of a fuss.
Her survival depended on her ex-husband.
And he… She closed her eyes against the memory.
So much blood. Rome trying to crawl toward her with that hole in his shoulder.
Him fighting off their attacker to give her a chance to escape.
His voice when he screamed at her to run, to save herself and leave him behind.
He was back there. Potentially bleeding out.
A dip in the landscape plunged the killer’s shoulder deeper into her ribs and crushed the air from her lungs.
She had to get free, get to Rome.
Lettie wouldn’t give her abductor any sign she managed to spot what looked like a plague of thin green shoots of bamboo coming off a ledge of red rock to her right through the wall of her hair in her face.
Not bamboo. At least not out here in the middle of the desert.
This was horsetail. Rough horsetail. Weird name. Might save her life later.
They maneuvered around a fallen tree that’d long since given up but whose roots still clung to the cracked, dry red earth, its bark and insides chewed through over years of insect and wildlife activity.
She was an ecologist. She studied the ecosystems of every plant and animal in the park.
And she knew exactly where rough horsetail grew the heaviest. She had a location.
But that didn’t do a damn bit of good unless she could retrace their steps.
Where was he taking her? How much longer would she have to play this game?
Rome didn’t have time. He needed help now.
Their pace slowed as her abductor navigated alongside the hundred-plus-foot downed tree.
Crystallized droplets of water clung to the twiggy branches and roots laid against the forest floor where they’d fallen, crunching beneath his weight.
He moved almost strategically. Understanding where to step to make the least amount of noise.
The perfect predator. This man, whoever he was, was used to being outdoors, had trained how to stay invisible to his prey and stay at the top of the food chain.
He’d spent maybe as much time as Rome learning the limits of his body and his surroundings, and that—above all else—scared her.
Because if he was as good a hunter as Rome, she’d never escape.
He’d cross this entire park to find her without having to expend much effort.
Her attacker was almost graceful as he planted both feet and traced gloved hands along her spine.
Gravity shifted as the killer slid her free from his shoulder and set her against the tree.
Lettie made sure her head lolled to one side, her eyes welded closed as the weight of his attention bore into her face.
Gripping her chin, he held her in place.
“I know you’re awake, Dr. Larson.” His voice triggered a rush of unease through her. Low and oily, sinister and dark. She didn’t know it was possible to be physically repelled by a certain sound alone. “Your breathing changed about five minutes ago.”
Larson. Not Foster. Lettie didn’t have the mental bandwidth to consider how he knew not to call her by her married name, and right now, she didn’t care. Peeling her eyes open, she swallowed against the disappointment of not being able to identify her abductor. “Who are you?”
That voice shifted into a laugh, coiling acid in her stomach.
“That was always your problem. Not seeing what was right in front of you. I’ve studied you for years, you know.
” His hand lightened its hold around her chin, following the curve of her jaw.
It was such an intimate gesture, soft with the leather gloves caressing her skin.
“I’ve seen that brilliant mind of yours work around obstacles others in your line of work considered lost causes.
I watched as you developed and pursued your tracking device.
From a distance, of course. And, in all that time, you never noticed me. Until now.”
A piece of bark pushing between her shoulder blades kept her from revealing the shiver coursing through her body.
He’d been watching her, stalking her. How close had he gotten?
Her office in park headquarters had only one window, but she’d spent most of her time in the lab with the other researchers.
And her van… Dread suctioned her naval inward. “What do you want?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” His touch descended down the side of her neck, over her collarbones. That dark gaze—somewhere between dark brown and black as his soul—followed in the wake of his hand between her breasts. Then over her heart. His gaze raised to hers. “I want you.”
Lettie snapped her hand around his wrist, but, really, there was no place for her to go pinned between him and the tree at her back.
She had no idea where he’d brought her, how deep into the woods they’d gone.
He obviously possessed skills to take down the most skilled hunter she knew, and he’d most likely catch her before she took two steps to escape.
There wasn’t a damn thing she could do to fight him other than make it as difficult as possible for him to kill her.
And she would. “You don’t get to touch me. ”
“Oh, I’m going to do so much more than touch you, Arlette.
” His pulse in his wrist pounded steadily beneath her fingertips.
As though he was exactly where he wanted to be without a care in the world.
“You see, I’ve been waiting a long time to get your attention.
For you to just look at me like you look at that damn bear you follow around all over this park or that piece of crap husband whose jersey you insist on wearing to bed. ”
Her stomach rolled. How did he… No. It wasn’t possible.
He couldn’t know about that jersey. He couldn’t know what she slept in.
She took precautions while in the van, always covering the windows before she changed.
Making sure the doors were locked and the alarm was armed before climbing into bed. Unless…
“Since the moment I saw you for the first time in person in the visitor’s center all those months ago, I haven’t been able to think of anyone else.
What your hair feels like between my fingers, how you might taste, what it will feel like to make you mine from the inside out.
” A twin shiver seemed to shoot across his shoulders, and the killer withdrew his hand from her chest. He cocked his head to one side, the predator closing in on his prey.
“Do you remember that day? You were on a tour of the facilities with that intern of yours, and I knew right then you belonged to me. That I would do anything to have you for myself. And I’m going to start with getting rid of that husband of yours. ”
“What?” Her heart stopped. Coming to Zion was supposed to be a new start.
A life of her own, separate from her parents’ influence and perpetual disappointment and the ache digging through her chest with the divorce.
She was supposed to heal here. To find out who she was on her own and figure out the next step in her life, but she hadn’t escaped anything, had she? The hurt had followed.
“Shouldn’t be long now.” Her abductor shoved to stand, towering over her like some kind of reaper.
He flexed his hands into fists, the leather groaning under the pressure.
Reaching down, he extracted a dark pack she hadn’t noticed stashed into the shadowed inlets of the tree and dropped it at his feet.
He crouched to unwind a length of rope from inside.
“I wouldn’t normally leave my kills alone, but I couldn’t risk losing you in the process.
Once he’s bled out, it’ll be easier to get him in the tree.
Until then, I can’t have you running off before I’m finished.
Then you’ll see how serious I am about us being together. ”
“It was you.” Her breath shuddered free from her chest. Images of the hiker she’d happened upon yesterday morning—of the flesh and the wounds and the blood—seared across her mind.
Only this time, Rome’s face took the place of the victim’s.
And everything inside of her went numb. Her voice didn’t sound like her own.
Too disconnected. Too distant. Her safe place away from having to feel much of anything at all. “All those hikers? It was you?”
“They were just practice.” The killer grabbed for one of her ankles and wrenched her forward. “But Ranger Foster? He’ll be my masterpiece.”
Her back hit the ground in front of him, but she didn’t really feel it until the coarse rope scratched at her exposed skin. Putting her squarely back in her body.
And then Lettie struck.