Chapter 12
Briana
“I don’t suppose I can convince you to uncuff me?” When I flash what I hope is a flirtatious smile, my captor holds up his bandaged thumb.
“Not on your life. You are, by far, the most lethal woman I’ve ever had the misfortune of rescuing.”
“Thanks. I think.” Head tilted back, I drink his offered water. “More, please.”
The handsome Marine—no longer a caterpillar—squats beside me. “Let’s wait and see if you can keep it down. Now, start talking.”
His tone is pure drill sergeant. Even his dog whines at the sound of it.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. The giant bully’s mad at me, not you.” Pressing my nose to her soft head, I lean in, allowing her to lick my face.
While the sweet, yet humongous, mixed-breed lab settles closer, I hiss out my breath. “I’m not sure where to begin.”
“How about why you left your best friend in the woods?” His accusatory tone makes my pulse jump.
“Wait. Mumbles didn’t murder her, too, did he?”
“She made it out safely.” No doubt looking for lies, the sheriff studies my face.
“Thank goodness. I’d hate to think—”
Nope. Quiet, Bree. Dr. Herman—AKA my inner lawyer—is obviously not connected to my bladder.
I need to pee.
“Sooo…” Squeezing my thighs, I talk fast. “I’d been hiking the Long Trail for over a week when Andrea called. She’s not exactly outdoorsy, so I was shocked she wanted to join me.”
“Go on.” He passes me the water.
Despite a raging thirst, I only take a small sip before swallowing.
“Thanks… Anyhow, Andee appeared to be agitated, but I didn’t think much of it.
She’s high-maintenance on her best days.
We set up camp, sat by the fire. Afterward, she dropped a bomb—said she’d slept with Brett while we were still together.
Like any rational human, it pissed me off.
I told her I needed space and left at first light. ”
As I’m about to explain the Gollum-like stalker, he cuts in. “Was Brett there?”
“What? Hell no. I haven’t seen him… in months. We broke up last Christmas. It’s the gospel.”
Judging by his scowl, he’s not buying it. “So you left her all alone?”
“Tell me, Kade,” I snap, “do you have a girlfriend?”
“No but—”
“An attractive, personable guy like you? Why not?” At my mocking smile, his brows draw together.
“I haven’t found anyone who will put up with me.”
I pounce. “Prefer men or women?”
No hesitation, he shoots back. “Women.”
“Do you like sex?” When I tilt my head, he blinks, caught off guard.
Then, his cocky mouth twitches. “That’s a bit personal—yes. I do enjoy it.”
I’d cross my arms, but they’re cuffed behind my back. Instead, I move forward, close enough to make it awkward.
Jutting my chin out, I snarl. “Well, I like to fuck. Brett didn’t. At least not with me. End of story, end of relationship.”
His eyes flick to my lips, but long enough for me to catch—Desire?
My brows lift which causes some mud on my forehead to flake off. “Now, do you want to hear about the guy who tried to kill me… or keep pretending this isn’t foreplay?”
There. Finally. I’ve pushed him off balance. His jaw clenches before he glances away, trying to pull the reins on something he doesn’t want me to see.
I’d call victory, but I still gotta go. “Can you free my feet, I really need to take a piss.”
“Sure. As soon as you tell me what happened.” God, I hate him.
Incentivized, mind still fuzzy, I squirm. “All day, I had a feeling like someone was watching. Twigs snapped. Crickets went quiet. Birds took flight for no reason. You know what I mean?”
Index fingers tented at his lips, he nods as if he believes me.
Again, I increase my pace. “That night, I slept in my clothes, ready to bolt. I almost convinced myself I was paranoid until I heard him again. He and this other guy stood outside my tent. I barely had time to slip out the back.”
A shiver runs through me, but I push on. “When I circled back, everything was gone, my campsite completely wiped out. The next night—Tuesday I think—a man screamed, followed by a gunshot.”
“In the morning, I retraced male footprints to a shallow grave and found…” My voice cracks. “Brett.”
A silence descends, sitting heavy between us.
If not for my biological urges, I would let it drag on. “I’ve racked my brain. I swear I don’t know why he came to Vermont. All I can think is Andrea brought him to laugh at my humiliation.”
Brown eyes staring, thick lips tight, he watches me. No doubt I’m a puzzle as well as a threat.
Damn, he’s a fine specimen of a man. His dark haunted gaze has invaded my dreams since the day I saved him. I always wondered if he survived the war. So many didn’t.
“Can I take your vitals now?” His question jerks me from a vivid fantasy involving sweat, skin, and tangled sleeping bags.
As I mentally erase his naked image, he flicks a flashlight in my eyes. “You can say no, but it might help your case.”
“Huh? Case? What case?”
“You’re the prime suspect in a murder investigation.”
“You’re kidding, right?” My voice climbs an octave. “Jeez, I already told you. It was Mr. Mumbles. You must’ve seen his boot prints while tracking me. A killer, perhaps two, have been following me for days. I barely escaped.”
I squirm in the restraints, desperate now. “Can you let me go? I have to pee. Like now… Promise I won’t run. You have my word.”
He digs into his pack, hands me a wet wipe, then cuts my binds. “Stay close. I want to see your head.”
Rubbing feeling into my raw wrists, I return to the campsite, draw in my knees, and sit by the tree.
Weapon drawn, he paces in front of me. “Here’s the other scenario. The second set of footsteps belong to your accomplice.”
My stomach tightens. “I don’t understand. Why are you so hell-bent on making me the villain?”
“I, uh…” As he drags a hand through his beard, a flush creeps up his cheeks.
Reminded of the Marine I winked at, this wave of desire hits me, no doubt amplified by drugs and adrenaline.
Pupils huge, his breath slows. Clearly, I’m not the only one caught in this electric, unspoken charge between us.
Rising, I take one slow, deliberate step, before cupping his delightfully soft facial hairs. “I don’t lie, leatherneck.”
“God help me, I believe you.” His Adam’s apple bobs, his tongue flicks over his lower lip, and…
Ding, ding, ding. It’s a knockout.
Maybe it’s Stockholm Syndrome. Perhaps it’s Disney Damsel in Distress Disorder. Or maybe it’s because I’ve wanted to kiss this man for years.
Up on my toes, I press my mouth to his. At first, it’s soft, but soon the heat between us rises to a boil. His left hand cups my rear and tugs me tight, grinding his desire into my abs. When I moan, his other arm reaches to hold me in place so he can take his tongue deeper.
Too soon we part, his face as stunned as mine.
My head swims. For a moment, the fog clears. “What did you say? Sorry, I’m having a hard time focusing.”
By the time I glance up again, he has his phone to his ear.
“Give me a little more time. She’s coming down from whatever she was on.
Huh? …Not sure. She says someone shot her with an animal dart…
Yeah, a nasty hole in her upper arm… No, I don’t want to hand her over until she’s coherent…
Okay… Thanks. I will. What? Where? Oh, crap. Yeah, I will. Bye.”
From his grim face, I gather I’m in deep shit. “Talking to your FBI buddy, yes?”
He nods, slowly shaking his head. “Indeed. The State Police found your gear.”
Despite his tone, a girl can hope. “That’s helpful, right?”
“Not for you. They found your weapon. Recently fired. Caliber matches the bullet in your ex’s brain.”
“Oh, for chrissakes.” Ice rushes through my veins. “This can’t be happening.”
Voice shaking, my nails dig into his arm. “Listen, I don't want to sound like a broken record, but I did not kill Brett. The real murderer is trying to frame me.”