Chapter Thirty
When Aiden lifted his binoculars again, Paul followed his gaze toward the cabin.
Vanessa was walking down the steps.
Paul strained for a better view. He could barely make out the shape of her, and he felt a pang of guilt for restraining her with duct tape. She must have struggled hard to escape. While they watched, she climbed behind the wheel and drove away.
Aiden lowered his binoculars. “Now we have to relocate.”
“I can’t move,” Paul said.
“Too bad,” he said, and gripped the front of Paul’s T-shirt. “Get up.”
Paul groaned and struggled to his feet. Once upright, he swayed and stumbled sideways. He wasn’t exaggerating about his physical condition. He felt light-headed. It was a challenge to maintain his balance on the rocky terrain. Aiden pointed toward a sturdy-looking juniper about twenty feet away.
“Walk slowly.”
Paul did, and not just because he’d been told to.
His entire body hurt, especially his injured shoulder.
Every step jostled his left arm, which dangled uselessly at his side.
Pain radiated from his neck to his fingertips.
It was a good thing he didn’t have to fight to the death, because he would lose.
When they reached the juniper tree, Aiden ordered him to turn around and sit with his back to the tree trunk.
Paul lowered his body to the ground and complied.
He didn’t see the advantage in trying to wrestle with Aiden.
It was safer to stay calm and let the man escape.
Paul hoped his cooperation would earn him some peace with the Mendez family. He didn’t want to hide anymore.
“Hands behind the tree,” Aiden said.
“You don’t have to restrain me. I’m in no condition to follow you.”
Aiden repeated his order.
Paul complied with a wince. He felt the extra pull in his shoulder as Aiden secured his wrists behind his back, tying him to the tree trunk.
Plastic cables bit into his skin, and the position strained his arms, but he didn’t complain.
He preferred temporary discomfort to a bullet in the foot—or the head.
Aiden circled the tree to study his work. He seemed satisfied. “I’m going to keep tabs on your girlfriend.”
“Why?”
“Because I spared your life for her sake. If you don’t commit to making her happy, I’ll come for you.”
“If I don’t make her happy, you’ll kill me?”
“Either that, or I’ll steal her.”
Paul gave him a dark look. He didn’t tell Aiden that committing to Vanessa’s happiness wasn’t possible, because she’d never speak to him again. “Will your father send someone else after me?”
“No,” Aiden said. “He’ll send someone after me.”
Paul’s brows rose. Miguel Mendez wasn’t known for showing mercy to his enemies. But would he eliminate his own son? “Good luck with that.”
“Kiss your girl for me,” Aiden said, and walked away.
As soon as he was out of sight, Paul sagged against the tree.
He tried to listen for the sound of footsteps through the underbrush, or a car engine driving away, but he heard nothing.
He couldn’t see the cabin or the road. He contemplated the narrow strip of lake in front of him, its surface sparking under the sun’s rays, and thought of Vanessa.
She was safe. He’d be safe as soon as he got out of these ties, and back to civilization. They would both survive this.
Joy and hope filled him, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet.
It was possible to die from exposure in this environment.
He needed to try to escape before his arms went numb.
He pushed his back against the papery bark of the juniper tree, dug his heels in the rocky ground, and attempted to snap the cable ties in a series of straining heaves.
All he got for his trouble was a blinding headache, a scratched back, and a shoulder that screamed for relief.
He abandoned the effort, panting from exertion.
The ties hadn’t budged, but his boxer shorts had fallen halfway down his hips.
He closed his eyes and tried to focus on something other than pain. The air shimmered with heat. His nose itched. Sweat trickled down his face and insects buzzed around his head. All of these sensations reminded him how lucky he was to be alive.
Within an hour, he forgot how lucky he was.
Dehydration set in, and delirium followed.
His tongue felt like sandpaper. He’d kill for a sip of water.
When a fire ant crawled into his shorts, he jerked sideways and almost pulled his arm from the socket.
Pain pounded into his shoulder like a jackhammer.
He clenched his teeth and tried not to scream.
Then he went ahead and screamed, because why not? He yelled for help until his voice went hoarse, and he didn’t give a damn how undignified he looked. When no help came, he collapsed against the tree trunk, exhausted. He’d try again later. Right now, he needed to rest and catch his breath.
The next thing he knew, he was jostled awake by a cacophony of sounds. There was a helicopter in the area, hovering close enough to swirl the leaves around him. He heard voices and footsteps and vehicles.
“Here,” he shouted, or tried to shout. The raspy cry that emerged from his throat reminded him of a debarked dog. “Over here!”
The footsteps grew closer, until Jackson Nava appeared with his gun drawn. “Where’s Bennett?”
“In the lake,” Paul said. “Dead.”
Jackson holstered his weapon and used a multi-tool to clip the cable ties at Paul’s wrists. Paul slumped sideways, unable to catch himself. Sensation returned to his arms with a vengeance.
“Vanessa?” he croaked.
“She’s fine.”
“Where?”
“She’s at the station.”
Paul lay there in a sweaty heap, too drained to move. Jackson crouched down next to him with a bottle of water. Paul couldn’t lift his arms, so he opened his mouth like a baby bird and drank.
“Bennett did this to you?” Jackson asked.
“No.”
“Who?”
“Aiden Mendez.”
Jackson tensed at this news. “He still in the area?”
“I doubt it.”
“When did he leave?”
“Hours ago.”
Jackson didn’t ask who Aiden Mendez was.
He seemed familiar with the name, and familiar with Paul’s unique background.
He rose to his feet and checked their surroundings, speaking quietly into his radio.
While Jackson searched the shoreline, Paul flexed his right hand to test his strength.
His left arm was useless, as if he’d been shot all over again.
He managed to pull his boxer shorts into place.
“Tell me what happened to Bennett,” Jackson said.
“He was shot.”
“Where’s the boat?”
“It sank.”
“Is his body with the boat?”
Paul wasn’t sure. Recovering bodies from water was a tricky business. Lost Lake boasted surprising depths and strong undercurrents. Bennett’s body might be tangled up in reeds right next to the boat, or he might have drifted for miles.
“How did you get here?” Jackson asked.
“I swam.”
“My truck is parked on the forest road. Can you walk?”
“Yes,” Paul said, though he wasn’t confident in his ability to stand, let alone walk.
When Jackson offered him a hand, he took it.
They moved forward in careful steps. The forest road was less than a hundred feet away.
When they arrived at his truck, Paul climbed into the passenger seat while Jackson got behind the wheel.
Jackson offered him a cold soda from a mini-cooler, and watched as Paul drained the contents. “Vanessa says your last name is McPherson.”
“That’s right.”
“You killed Angel Mendez.”
“Yes.”
“Was Bennett involved with the Mendez family somehow?”
“I don’t think so.”
“We have Vanessa’s statement. Another officer will take yours. You can have your brother with you, if you’d like.”
“My brother?”
“He’s on his way to the station.”
Paul drew in a shaky breath.
“Look, no one gives a rat’s ass about Bennett. He was armed and threatening my sister. If you killed him …”
“I didn’t. Mendez beat me to it.”
“Why?” Jackson asked, turning on the engine. “Why would he do that?”
Paul told a bare-bones version of the day’s events as Jackson drove away from the lake. The story didn’t make sense, and he wasn’t proud of the details, but it was the unadorned truth. Jackson listened without comment.
“He tied me up to buy more time to get away,” Paul finished.
A muscle in his jaw flexed. “Same reason you tied up my sister?”
Paul flinched at the question, which struck him like a gut punch. “I did it to protect her from Bennett.”
“Does she know about Mendez?”
“Not really.”
“But she knew you’d been shot on duty, and she knew you were in hiding. She broke up with you because of it.”
Paul didn’t argue. He was too exhausted to defend his poor choices.
“You came to Lost Lake to evade the Mendez family, because they’re a bunch of psychos, and you thought you’d enjoy some local flavor while you were visiting.”
“No. That’s not what I thought.”
“What did you think?”
Paul considered admitting he was in love with Vanessa, but he was afraid the confession would make his actions seem worse.
Jackson clenched his hands around the steering wheel.
“I’m taking you to the station to make your statement.
When you’re finished, I want you and your brother to get out of my town.
Find another hiding place, lose my sister’s number, and forget you ever met her.
Don’t even think about coming back here. ”
Paul narrowed his eyes and said nothing. Staying in Lost Lake wasn’t an option. He would leave town, and he would leave Vanessa alone—for now. But he would come back to her. He wouldn’t lose her number, and he’d never forget her.