Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
In a second, Jonah was on his feet. His hand flew to the weapon at his side, but the holster was empty.
Panic tightened his chest until he spotted his gun sitting, magazine out, on the coffee table.
Laney must’ve removed it while he was sleeping for safety.
He scooped up the Glock and shoved the magazine home while taking three long strides across the small living room to Scout’s side.
She growled again, her hackles raised, entire body tense.
“What is it, girl?” He peered out the small window over the sink into the yard.
The predawn light cast everything in a ghostly blue-gray hue.
A light drizzle pattered against the roof.
The pine trees swayed in the breeze, their needled branches creating shifting patterns against the gradually brightening sky. Between their trunks, darkness pooled.
Jonah edged past Scout and shifted next to the door for a better view of the yard. The lake was a dark blot, the water rippling with the rain. He scanned the treeline. Nothing shifted. Scout joined him, sitting on her haunches. Her dark brown eyes looked up at him questioningly.
He felt slightly stupid, but that didn’t stop him from whispering. “I don’t see anything. If you are causing all of this ruckus because of a raccoon, we’re gonna have words.”
Her brows dropped into a furrow, and Jonah shook his head.
“Okay, okay. I believe you.” He scanned the yard again, focusing on the trees in the distance.
Nothing stirred. Had the trespasser fled?
Likely, since Scout had relaxed. He shifted to the window over the sink again.
A flash of something caught his eye. Not in the yard. No, much closer.
Hanging from the corner of the porch was a small dead animal.
Anger, fast and sharp, burst through him. He moved back to the door and twisted the knob. Scout rose. He gently pushed her out of the way, blocking her ability to go outside. Jonah didn’t want the dog to get hurt on the off-chance the perpetrator was still lurking nearby.
Moist air coated his skin as he stepped outside, closing the door behind him.
Cautiously, keeping to the shadow of the cabin, he edged along the porch.
His gaze roamed the area beyond the yard.
A brave squirrel bounced down an oak tree and jumped toward a pine.
The rain picked up speed. Its steady drumbeat was in rapid tune with his heart. He approached the dead animal.
A rabbit. Likely a wild one, judging from its dark brown fur.
Its head was twisted at an unnatural angle, its tongue stuck out.
A strand of barbed wire wrapped around its neck.
The other end was attached to a hook meant for plants on the roof of the porch.
It took Jonah a moment to realize it wasn’t just rain darkening the poor animal’s fur. It was blood.
The wind gusted. The rabbit turned in slow motion as if touched by an invisible hand, revealing a note attached to its side. Jonah’s muscles tensed. He leaned in to read the typewritten message.
Be afraid, little bunny. Be very afraid.
A cold chill ran down his spine, and Jonah’s fingers tightened on his Glock. Whoever was behind this wasn’t simply trying to silence Laney, he wanted to terrorize her. The realization hit him like a physical blow. What kind of sick game was this? What did the killer want? It didn’t make sense.
Jonah went down the porch steps and into the yard. Rain damped his hair and his shirt, chilling his skin. Depressions in the grass indicated the path the perpetrator had taken.
A gasp came from behind him. He whirled to find Laney standing on the porch in her pajamas and a pair of ratty tennis shoes. In one hand, she held her service weapon. Her attention was locked on the rabbit. In a blink, her shock disappeared, replaced by a fiery rage he didn’t see very often.
The truth crystallized in an instant. The reason the killer had left the rabbit on the porch.
Desperation took hold, even as he took one step toward Laney, and barked, “Get back inside—”
Gunshots erupted.
Glass shattered as the bullets slammed into the window next to Laney.
She dropped to the floor. Jonah hit the ground, rolling behind the corner of the house for cover, losing sight of Laney in the process.
Bullets slammed into the wooden porch in rapid succession.
Scout erupted into frantic barks and then fell silent.
His heart dropped. My God, had the dog been hit? Had Laney?
Jonah rose to a crouched position, weapon at the ready. His heart thundered. Concern for Laney threatened to unmoor him, but he forced it away. The gunman was hidden in a copse of trees. He gauged the shooter’s position and took aim, firing off a couple of rounds.
The bullets flying their way ceased.
He waited with bated breath. A heartbeat later, the sound of someone crashing through the woods shattered the silence. Scout barked, and then Laney's voice cut through the morning air from somewhere near the front of the cabin.
“Jonah! You okay?”
“I’m fine!” he called back. “Stay down!”
But instead of staying put, he heard her tennis shoes hit the porch. He popped his head around the corner of the house in time to see her vault over the railing and take off across the grass in pursuit of the shooter. With an uncharacteristic curse, Jonah bolted after her. “Stop! Laney!”
She paid him no heed. Wet branches smacked him in the face as he tried to catch up to her.
His cowboy boots slid on the soft ground, made slippery by last night’s thunderstorm.
He didn’t know these woods. Not like Laney, and clearly not like the killer either.
Both of them had disappeared into the trees.
Panic pulsed through him, fast and hot, mingling with a fear that threatened to send him straight over the edge.
Jonah pressed forward. The snap of breaking branches ahead told him which direction she'd gone. He followed the sound of her pursuit—shoes on wet leaves, the rustle of disturbed undergrowth. When the sounds faded, his heart hammered harder.
He slid to a stop under an oak. Rain beat down on his head and shoulders. He turned in a circle, desperately searching for a clue that would put him back on Laney’s path, praying that the next noise he heard wouldn’t be gunshots.
Please, God. Please. Help me.
The rumble of an engine broke through the silence.
Without hesitation, Jonah bolted in the direction it came from.
Gunshots sent his pulse into overdrive. He burst out of the trees and onto the shore of the lake.
Laney stood a short distance away behind a tree, gun raised.
A small motorboat raced across the water.
Whoever was driving was crouched down, nothing more than a black blob against a gray sky.
Laney spun in Jonah’s direction. When she saw him, she lowered her weapon. “He got away.”
He got away. He got away.
The words whipped through his head on repeat like a hurricane, even as his gaze swept over her slender form.
Rain had soaked her hair, leaving the black strands clumped and causing rivulets to chase down her face into the collar of her pajama top.
Her ratty tennis shoes were coated with damp grass.
But there was no blood. She was whole. Unharmed. Alive.
And a rage unlike anything Jonah had ever experienced before coursed through him. It was nearly blinding. The worry and panic and desperation all tangled together like three bolts of lightning hitting the same metal rod.
“How could you be so reckless?” He shouted the words.
Yelling wasn’t something he did. Ever. But at this moment, Jonah couldn’t control his emotions.
He stalked toward her. “Don’t ever do that again.
Do you hear me?” His hand shot out and grabbed her arm, pulling her closer. “You could’ve been killed!”
Shock widened her eyes. “Jonah—”
“No!” He couldn’t hear her explanation. Didn’t want it. He was practically vibrating with the force of his feelings. A tidal wave of emotion that couldn’t be held back. “You can’t take risks like that. Don’t you understand that there are people who depend on you? People who love you.”
In that moment, he got it. What Papa Earl had been trying to say.
Time waits for no man.
And Jonah…he’d wasted so much time. That’s what this was all about.
The bruises on Laney’s neck were still visible, proof of how close she’d come to losing her life.
And still, he hadn’t understood. But now, standing in the shelter of a pine tree, the rain beating down on both of them…
he got it. One bullet could have ended any chance he’d had.
Laney’s hand landed on his chest, right over his pounding heart. Something flickered in her eyes as she looked up at him. Not fear or confusion, but recognition. As if she were seeing him clearly for the first time, understanding what he was really saying.
And then her gaze dropped to his mouth.
He didn’t think. Didn’t pause. His feelings were too raw, too exposed, to stay hidden.
And so, driven by years of pent-up emotion, Jonah bent his head and kissed her.