Hitched and Hunted

“I’d hold you to get you warm, but I’m still sopping wet.” A hint of humor threaded through the lingering concern in Jake’s voice. Mariah hadn’t realized until now just how much she’d missed that lighter tone. It hadn’t made an appearance all day, banished by the horrors they were witnessing.

“You can make up for it back at the motel,” she promised.

“If you still want to leave town, I understand.”

She knew she should tell him no, that they’d stay and help. But the memory of Victor Logan’s malevolent gaze was burned into her brain, a reminder of why they had to leave as soon as they could get back to the motel and pack their things.

“I want to go home,” she said, hating herself a little.

Within fifteen minutes, they were safely back at the motel. Mariah took a long, hot shower that did wonders for her body temperature, then dried her hair, wrapped herself in a fuzzy robe and finished packing their toiletries for the trip home.

When she returned to the sleeping area, Jake was on the phone. He smiled at her. “Yeah, we’re cutting it short here. We may overnight in Birmingham. I’ll let you know.” He mouthed the name “Gabe.” “No, no—she’s okay. Just a little chilled.”

“Tell your brother I said hi and I’m fine,” she murmured, already eyeing the bed, where Jake had laid out warm clothes, including a cozy thermal undershirt and a sturdy pair of jeans. The rest of their clothes were packed.

“So he talked her into it finally? Well, good for Aaron!” Jake grinned at Mariah as she slipped off the robe and started donning her clothing. The appreciative look he gave her as she stripped naked did more to warm her than the thermal underwear. “Tell him congratulations for us. I’ll see you later.”

“Aaron and Melissa are engaged?” she guessed. Jake’s youngest brother had been trying to talk his girlfriend, Melissa, into marrying him for three months now, but Melissa was too pragmatic to jump into anything. Her history with men had made her a little cautious. To Aaron’s credit, he’d been far more patient with her than he was with most things in his life. “Good for them.”

“He popped the question on her birthday—talked someone at the high school into letting him borrow the gymnasium and set up their own private prom. Sappy devil.”

“Not nearly as romantic as your proposal,” she teased, wrapping her arms around his waist. “How did it go again—‘Hey, Mariah, wanna get hitched?’”

“If I recall correctly, you were duly impressed.”

She rubbed her cheek against his chest, her smile fading. He had no idea how desperate she’d been at that point in her life to find some sort of security and family. She wondered if he’d remember things differently if he knew the whole truth.

Would they even be together if she hadn’t been at the end of her rope? She’d never let herself ask that question before, perhaps afraid of what she’d discover.

Beneath her cheek, Jake’s sweater was thick and soft. He’d dressed in clothing as warm as her own. She managed a teasing grin. “Got colder than you realized?”

He smiled back at her. “My goose bumps have goose bumps.”

“Maybe you should have joined me in the shower.”

He pulled her closer, kissing her forehead and threading his fingers through her hair. “You were brave today. You saved that little girl’s life.”

“We didn’t get to tell that poor woman I’m okay.”

“We could stop there on our way out of town.”

“No, it’s not on the way, and it would just interfere with the rescue efforts.” Mariah already felt guilty enough about leaving all those poor, suffering people behind. But she couldn’t risk seeing Victor Logan again. “Besides, she probably took her little girl to the hospital to be checked out.”

“Maybe I should take you to the hospital, too. You’re still shivering.”

She couldn’t tell him her chills had more to do with the cold-eyed man who’d been seconds from tossing her back into that swollen creek before Jake arrived.

Not yet. Not until they were safely away, back in Gossamer Ridge, with Jake’s big, capable family surrounding them.

But when they got home, she was going to tell Jake the truth. The whole sordid story.

It had been a mistake to create a fictional back story for her own life. Jake deserved better, and she was strong enough to face her past.

She’d survived seeing Victor again, hadn’t she?

Barely, a cowardly voice whispered in her ear. You barely survived with your life.

THE SECRET TO GETTING away with something, Victor knew, was to look as if you know what you’re doing. In his case, it was simple enough; Victor actually knew his way around the underbelly of a truck. He’d been a mechanic since the age of sixteen, working in garages and repair shops across three states. He’d been bitten with the wander bug at an early age. With his skills as a mechanic to sustain him, he began a twenty-year sojourn across three states to find where he belonged.

Twenty years to figure out he’d never belong in this world full of cretins and imbeciles who were more interested in expanding their wallets and waistlines than improving their minds. It had taken Alex to show him the truth: he was better than all those people he’d spent his life trying to impress.

After that, he’d lived his life as he wished, taking the jobs that would best accomplish his particular needs at the time. Alex had been generous, as well, sharing his wealth with Victor in exchange for Victor’s keen eye for opportunities.

Alex’s money had bought Victor the toolkit he was using right now under Jake Cooper’s Ford F-150.

Victor had followed Marisol and her husband from the disaster scene, seen him forced to park the truck many slots down from their motel room because of the bass boat hitched to the back. It had been easy enough for Victor to park nearby, bring out his tools and act as if he was there on business.

Victor was slender enough to slide easily under the truck and snip the serpentine belt without engaging the car alarm. He left just a thread of belt intact. It would snap within a few miles, and not long after that, the engine would start to fail.

He pushed out from under the truck and walked purposefully back to his van, securing his tools on the floorboard behind the front passenger’s seat. He stepped into the van through the side door and closed it behind him, quickly stripping out of his wet, soiled coveralls.

Then he left the parking lot and set up a couple of blocks down the service road. Cooper would have to drive past him to get to any of the three interstate access roads.

And Victor would be ready.

MARIAH WAS TOO QUIET. It reminded Jake, uncomfortably, of their first interactions three years ago. She’d showed up one day, looking for work, and his sister Hannah, always a sucker for a stray, had talked their parents into hiring the shy, pretty young single mother for the clerical job at the booking office of the marina and fishing camp the family ran.

Jake had found her stunningly beautiful from the start, but her quiet demeanor had almost nipped their relationship in the bud. He’d always preferred vibrant, fun-loving girls with lots of energy and lots of sass. Mariah’s subdued, self-contained calm seemed just the opposite.

But as she revealed her past in painful little snippets over the next week, he began to understand that what he’d seen as self-possession was really lingering sadness at the loss of her husband, Micah’s father. He’d apparently died young in a tragic car accident, leaving Mariah pregnant and alone. He’d had nothing to leave them, forcing Mariah to fend for herself and her child with her own resources.

Pity had turned to sympathy, and sympathy to infatuation. By the time she’d finally agreed to go out with him three weeks after they met, he was halfway in love. Their first kiss two dates later sealed the deal for him, and it hadn’t taken long to convince her they were meant to be a family.

They’d eloped to Gatlinburg within two months of their first meeting. He’d never doubted his snap decision to marry her, or be the father to her adorable son Micah, who’d just turned three in December.

But at times like this, when she went quiet and insular, he was reminded there were still things about her history he didn’t know. Things he hadn’t thought important.

But what if they were?

Mariah looked up, her forehead wrinkling a little as she caught him watching her. “What’s wrong?”

He tried to shake off his doubts. “Nothing. Just—you’re so quiet. You’re not feeling worse, are you?”

She flashed an unconvincing smile. “Still cold, I guess.”

He started to reach behind him to the bench seat when a sharp snapping sound caught him by surprise. Almost immediately, the steering wheel grew stiff under his hand, and the engine power dropped precipitously.

He fought the unresponsive steering wheel, bringing the truck to a shuddering stop at the side of the road. The engine idled unsteadily for a few seconds, then died. When he tried to crank the engine again, the starter struggled to engage.