Appalachian Abduction

Charlotte reached for her sidearm and felt nothing but bare denim at her hip. Damn. She kept forgetting James had confiscated her gun. Its absence made her feel vulnerable and powerless. First order of business in the morning was to get it back.

But that didn’t help her now.

As if they’d done this together a dozen times before, she and James rose from the table and flattened their bodies against the side wall by the window.

“See anything?” she asked.

“Nothing but shadows.”

“Still think it’s nothing but a shot-happy hunter out there?”

“Getting a little too dark for a regular hunter,” he admitted.

“As opposed to what—an irregular hunter?” she quipped. “Maybe now you’ll believe me when I tell you it’s Jenny’s kidnappers.”

James kept his gaze out the window. “Shooter’s motives don’t matter at the moment.”

“Right. Sorry. So what’s the plan?”

“We wait.”

“That’s it? We wait?”

“And watch.”

To hell with that. “We could get on your four-wheeler and see who’s out there.”

“And what if that shot was meant to draw you out? You’d be a sitting duck. Stop acting like this is your first rodeo.”

He was right. Damn it. This was her least favorite part of the job—stakeouts and waiting for someone else to make their next move.

“There could be more than one, you know. Maybe they’re going to surround the cabin.” Hugging the wall, Charlotte made her way over to the den window on the opposite side of the cabin. “I’ll keep a lookout here.”

Dusk settled on the woods that were wrapped in a gray mist. The outline of her rental truck at the tree line was barely visible. The vehicle was useless to her now that she suspected it had been spotted. If there was time, she’d exchange it for another one tomorrow. Her eyes and ears tingled with focus as she tried to find shifting patterns in the shadows, or the whisper of an out-of-the-ordinary snap of twigs.

“We hear another shot, call for backup,” James commented.

The minutes stretched on in a tense silence, and she shifted all her weight onto her left foot.

“Knee bothering you?” he asked, his gaze still concentrated on the gathering darkness.

How did he know with his back to her? Probably a good cop to be so observant of the slightest shift in details. “Hurts a little,” she admitted.

James stepped away from the window. “Let’s go. If there’s a stalker out there, I believe they’d have made a move by now. No sense standing around all night. We’ll come back at first light and take a look around.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Frankly, she was relieved. Her leg hurt like hell, and there was no way she’d be able to sleep in this cabin again without worrying she’d awaken staring down the barrel of a gun.

“You stay inside while I start the truck.”

“No way. We go together.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but he must have read her determination. “Okay. Anything you need to bring with you?”

She’d almost forgotten. “Yeah, let me grab my stuff. I’ll be quick.”

Charlotte scurried to the bedroom and then stuffed her laptop in the large duffel bag already filled with clothes and toiletries, prepacked necessities in case she’d needed to leave in a hurry. She rushed back down the hall, and a chill draft from the open door blew over her body. A truck engine started outside, and headlights pierced the darkness. How dare he? But the anger was soon replaced by a seed of fear. Was he leaving her alone in this compromised location? An image of a dark alley flashed across her mind—her old partners, Roy and Danny, fading into the shadows as they ran from the drug dealer flashing his small but lethal-looking pistol. She’d run, too, but not as fast. Not near fast enough to outrun a bullet. A quick peek behind her shoulder and she saw the dealer had aimed his gun at her.

She’d turned and faced him then. Better to see the flash of gunfire and take it head-on than be hit in the back while running away.

The drug dealer unexpectedly laughed and dropped his weapon. “Some friends you got there. You ain’t no coward, I give you that.” His arm had lowered to his side. His features had hardened. “Get out of here,” he’d growled. “And don’t ever forget this is my turf.”

She didn’t forget. Not the dealer, nor the partners who’d left her an easy target.

Faster than she’d ever believe possible with a bum leg, Charlotte flew out of the cabin and onto the porch, duffel bag clunking across the wooden floorboards.

The truck engine rumbled in Park. James wasn’t leaving without her. She climbed in the king cab, throwing the bag into the back seat, where it landed next to the gallon jug of sassafras tea he must have grabbed from the fridge.

“You tricked me,” she commented. But her words held no bite.

James shifted the truck into Drive. “I don’t know about the big city, but around here, we try and protect women.”

“I’m a cop, not a woman.”

His brow quirked.

“Well, you know what I mean.”

“I’m well aware you’re a woman,” he said drily.

The air was charged with something other than danger this time—the space between them sparked. Charlotte cleared her dry throat. “And a cop,” she insisted. “Don’t forget that part.”

The truck jostled along the dirt driveway. “Uh-huh, right,” he muttered.

“Wait. I’m not thinking clearly.” She dug into her jeans pocket for her keys. “I can drive my own truck and then exchange it for a new one in the morning. Take me back.”

James pulled onto the county road. “We’ll worry about your truck in the morning when we come back. For now, I think it’s best we leave it.”

“Okay, then. I can’t argue against your logic there.” Charlotte stuffed the key in her pocket.

Heat blasted from the vents, and she held her hands up against the warm air.

“Cold?” James asked.

She shrugged. “My hands are always cold.”

“No gloves?”

“Somewhere in my bag. I’ll dig them out later.”