Indulgence (245 page)

The SUV slid forward. Ears ringing from the gunshot, she
didn’t hesitate. She yanked the door opened, then pulled the man’s arm with
every bit of strength she possessed. He came free from the crushed metal and
tangle of seat belt just as his vehicle lost the war with gravity.

*****

Michael tumbled out of his SUV and bowled the woman over.
Rolling fast, he covered her with his body, gun pointing into the brush, eyes
searching for the source of that disembodied voice. He could hear nothing after
the retort of the gun except the sick crunch of his custom hybrid Tahoe as it
died a humiliating death at the bottom of the canyon. Shit. He’d just bought
that car!

The trip had started so beautifully, his new beginning. No
more working all night, no more losing track of the days, no more heart attack
waiting to happen. Thirty wasn’t old; he was just overworked in an
obsessive-compulsive kind of way.

Enwright Security had grown to be the top high-tech security
business in the country and had nearly eaten him alive in the process. Not that
he hadn’t loved every bit of starting his own company. He had. But when one of
his top technicians died at his workbench after another fourteen-hour shift,
Michael knew it was time to make a change.

A little over two hours ago, he’d loaded a suitcase, laptop,
and a few other gadgets into his Tahoe and headed north from Phoenix with no
particular destination in mind. He’d stopped at the Sunset Point rest area,
resisted the temptation to call the office and check on the production
statistics, and just stood gazing into the gathering darkness. No destination
meant no reservations, no plans. He felt lost. With a sigh, he’d gotten back
into the car.

He’d noticed the woman first. She’d burst from the backside
of the restrooms, running toward the brush with quick looks over her shoulders.
A moment later, a man dressed all in black gave chase.

Her face had been a mask of terror, and Michael hadn’t
hesitated. He’d pushed the four-wheel drive into action and barreled over the
curb and into the brush surrounding the rest area, following the path of the
man. He’d figured it was a domestic dispute and reasoned if he could get to the
man, he could calm the situation. If not, he’d knock the asshole out. Either
way, he couldn’t sit by and watch a man chase a woman into the wilderness.

The gunshots came as a complete surprise. Four bullets right
to the windshield. The bullet-resistant glass did its job, but the stars
splintering across the front effectively blocked his view. The Tahoe pitched
over a boulder, and Michael had a terrifying glimpse of the edge of the world
before his head slammed into the door frame and the lights went out.

All that had led to his current predicament. He was lying on
top of a beautiful woman, his gun in his hand, looking into the night for a rat
bastard he now planned to kill.

“Sheriff. Drop the gun, and lock your hands behind your
head, motherfucker,” the voice a low growl behind his ear.

Michael turned his head slightly only to find the barrel of
a gun pressed against his temple. He dropped the gun. The woman beneath him
whimpered.

*****

Graeme’s heart rate was nicely elevated. He cuffed the
suspect where he lay, needing to secure him before he risked a look at the
woman. Jerking the man’s arms, he dropped him unceremoniously and was rewarded
with a muffled thud as the suspect’s face hit the ground.

“Ma’am, are you okay? I need you to stand up slowly with
your hands to the side where I can see them.”

He wasn’t taking any chances. They could both be assholes,
and he was out here without backup. The woman got to her knees and pushed
herself up from the ground, careful to keep her hands in view.

“Turn around,” he directed.

She turned slowly, her long sweep of dark auburn hair hiding
her face. It didn’t matter. There was only one head of hair like that.
Elizabeth Ashford. Fuck.

He reached her in two strides, brushed the hair back from
her face, and saw the bruises and blood. “Elizabeth, honey, are you okay?
Where’d you come from?”

He walked her over to sit far enough away from the suspect
and lowered her to the ground. Kneeling beside her, he said, “I’m sorry,
Elizabeth. He’s not going to hurt you anymore. Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ve
got you now. Can you talk? Can you tell me what happened?”

“Beat me,” she gasped and then she pulled away from his arms
and ran a few steps into the woods and vomited.

He figured she’d want a few minutes to recover, so he
sauntered over to the bastard that beat the most beautiful woman he knew and
the only one he’d ever loved. He grabbed a fistful of hair as dark as his own
and pulled the man’s head back to take a look. One eye was swollen shut while
the other showed a slice of steely blue peeking out between swollen lids. Red
sand and pebbles clung to the blood that covered the unfamiliar face. So it
wasn’t her bastard husband after all.

He dropped the head and was again gratified by the sound of
flesh on ground and a small moan at the rough contact. He checked the man for
more weapons, removed his wallet and his cell phone.

“What’s your name, asshole?” he asked as he gave a rough
kick, his boot connecting with the suspect’s hip in order to turn him over.

The man made a harsh sound that could have been a laugh,
spit blood and dirt from his mouth, and said through swollen lips, “Fuck you!”

Graeme smiled. He would enjoy questioning this prick. He
flipped open the man’s wallet, just as Elizabeth came back to the small
clearing.

“Elizabeth, do you know this here—” he glanced down at the
man’s driver’s license “—Michael Enwright?” The name was familiar, but he
wasn’t sure where he’d heard it before.

“No, wait, Graeme, you’ve got it all wrong, and don’t call
me that,” she said running over to the downed man, even as he tried to stop
her.

“It was Barry that beat me. This man saved my life. Barry
very nearly killed him, too. He shot at him and caused the accident. Help me,”
she pleaded as she tried to help Enwright sit up.

*****

This was all such a mess. What was she going to do? She
probably needed a doctor. She knew her ribs were bruised where Barry had kicked
her. He usually confined the blows to her stomach and thighs, places that
wouldn’t leave a mark. He’d been especially violent tonight. She’d recognized
the signs, known it was coming. Yet she hadn’t been able to divert him, and the
rage came on fast and furious. He’d worked himself up as he enumerated her
failings, ending on the tragically familiar accusations that she didn’t love
him and she was having an affair.

It was hard to argue with the first. She didn’t love Barry.
An affair was out of the question. The only man she’d ever wanted was standing
in front of her wearing a badge, and he was a big part of the reason she’d
stayed married to Barry for as long as she had.

*****

Fuckin’ cunt! She had no business running. Sneaking out the
Goddamn backdoor of the bathroom. She’d planned to run away all along. It was
why she’d whined for the last thirty minutes about having to go pee at the next
rest stop.

He wouldn’t have hurt her, not really. Sure he’d given her a
tap, but she’d had it coming. He’d planned to take her to the cabin where he
could really teach her a lesson before they made up. Now she’d gone and caused
all this trouble. It was her fault he’d had to shoot that prick in the fancy
SUV. He knew who it was, though. He finally knew who her fucking boyfriend was.
The fancy Enwright prick. Rich bastard. Asshole had practically fucked her on
the ground with her husband standing there watching. Goddamn it!

He would make them pay. Elizabeth was his. Nobody took what
was his. Nobody! He’d learned things in Afghanistan that would make her pretty
little head spin. He would make her watch. He would skin Enwright alive, cut
off his dick, and feed it to her. Then she would learn. Elizabeth would learn.

He pressed his knuckles against his temples. Have to calm
down, have to think. Once Enwright was dead, she would settle down, but now
they couldn’t go home. They could still go to the cabin. No one knew where that
was. Not even Elizabeth. Need money. Enwright has money. Just need to get some
of Enwright’s money before I kill him. Need a plan. Need a plan. Need a plan.

*****

“You’re sure Lizzie?” Graeme asked, using her preferred name
and deliberately blocking her view of Enwright, who sat in the dirt rubbing his
wrists. “I can keep you safe, no matter what’s going on,” he added.

“For Christ’s sake, she said she was sure. We are both
victims here, Sheriff. I’ve never met the woman before in my life. I saw a man
chasing her, I followed. He shot at my car, I wrecked. I shot at where I
thought he might be hiding, and my Tahoe started to slide off the edge. The
lady helped pull me from the SUV, and I was covering her body while I looked
for the gunman. You know the rest.”

The radio at his side squawked. “Sheriff Kennedy, come in.
We have an emergency near your location. Possible kidnapping. State police and
FBI are on their way. Repeat, we have an emergency—”

“Sally, will you please remember to use alternate channels
and proper protocol under unusual circumstances. I’ll call you on my private
line, standby.”

He stepped away to get some privacy, uneasy about leaving
Elizabeth so close to the Enwright fellow.

“What is it, Sally?” he demanded as soon as the call
connected.

He listened, grunted directions, and disconnected.

“Do you know what that call was all about, Enwright?” he
asked.

“I have a pretty good idea,” Michael answered, a slight
smile on his face.

“It seems your fucking Tahoe is equipped with a satellite
tracker and called the police automatically when the crash was recorded and you
didn’t answer.”

Enwright didn’t respond, just waited.

“Why didn’t you tell me who you are?” Graeme gritted out
through clenched teeth.

“You didn’t ask. You were too busy dropping me face-first
into the dirt and kicking me. God forbid you worry about who I am or what might
have happened to me. If you’d like to return my phone, I imagine I can at least
keep the FBI from showing up here,” Michael said, holding his hand out for his
phone.

He hit the speed dial.

“Shit, Michael, are you okay? It’s a royal cluster fuck
here. The FBI are all over the place. They said it was likely a kidnapping.
What the hell’s going on? First you need a break, like some Mr. Goddamn
Sensitive. Now you trashed the Tahoe.”

“I’m all right, Jolynn. It was a freak accident. Call off
the dogs. Tell the FBI to go home. I suppose I’ll stay around here a day or two
to supervise the extraction of the Tahoe. Have Walker ferry up the spare Tahoe,
and he can take this one back. I’m afraid we’ll have to salvage it for parts.
Call and order another one and have Walker use the same specs for customizing,”
he said. “Send me all new technology. You know what I need. Send it care of the
local sheriff’s office.” He ended the call.

He paused, thinking of what else he needed to do. In the
momentary silence, he heard the sheriff asking the woman—asking Elizabeth, he
amended—where she would stay. Her tearful reply that she had nowhere to go
tugged at his heart.

Michael interrupted. “Elizabeth, I’m sorry, I know we’re
meeting under unusual circumstances, to say the least. My name is Michael
Enwright, and my company specializes in security. Considering what we’ve been
through together tonight, I want to offer you all of the resources available to
Enwright Security. We’ll stop your husband. My company will put you up in a
secure location while we track his movements. Believe me, we’ll find him. It’s
the least I can do for your saving my life,” he finished sincerely.

“Like hell you will. Lizzie will be staying with me. We’re
old friends. I can keep her safe, and I have plenty of room. Besides, this is a
matter for the local officials,” the sheriff said stiffly.

“If that’s the case, Sheriff, you know the Phoenix Police
Department will be taking over, and you’ll be shut out. Now that you know who I
am, I imagine you know what I can do, what strings I can pull. I suggest we
work together. I’ll have access to far more resources than you will, but I’ll
be willing to share. I won’t even press charges against you. On one condition.”

“What’s that?” Graeme asked suspiciously.

“I’ll be staying with you, as well. Her husband got a good
look at me. He’ll know who I am by tomorrow, if he watches the news. He’ll
likely come looking for both of us, and together, you and I can keep her far
safer than one of us alone.

Neither man had said much when they’d arrived at Graeme’s
house. By unspoken agreement, he’d taken Elizabeth inside while Enwright
scouted the perimeter. Now Elizabeth was already asleep, knocked out from the
painkillers administered by the paramedics.

Graeme showed Enwright to his room, left him some clean
clothes, and pointed out the shower before heading to the kitchen for a drink.
He winced a little while later when Enwright walked into the kitchen wearing
nothing but boxers and bruises.

“Drink?” he offered.

“If there’s a God in heaven, that’ll be a single malt whisky
you’re offering,” Enwright said.

“It is,” he confirmed, with what felt like his first smile
in hours.

“Then I take back almost every bad thought I’ve had about
you tonight, Sheriff.”

“Graeme. Call me Graeme”

“Right then, Graeme, and you should call me Michael,” he
said and poured himself a glass before walking restlessly around the kitchen.

Graeme watched Michael move around the room and realized the
man was actually working, checking the locks and window casements. He shouldn’t
forget that Michael was an expert in security and protection.