Mistaken Trust (The Jewels Trust Series) (55 page)

Sensing he was close to the creature, he maintained a full tilt run in the direction of the commotion.

Through the limited sight picture of the night vision goggles, he picked up the blur of a giant animal bounding away, about one hundred yards ahead of him, up the mountainside.

Marshall didn’t bother to take aim on the bear as he fled the scene, knowing, especially at that distance, the 9mm cartridges, even shot from a fully automatic weapon, would not muster enough stopping power to bring down the huge beast. Probably just piss him off more.

About twenty yards ahead, a motionless heap lie on the side of the path. A body, he figured. “I think I got something. EMT needed,” Marshall radioed.

“We’re right behind you,” one of the men responded.

Was Jewels dead? Did Hines killer her? The bear?

“Julia! Jewels!” Marshall hollered as he sprinted closer to the inanimate mound.

Seconds later he arrived at the scene, unprepared for the sight: Hines’ head smashed open like a pumpkin, the proceeds scattered like spewed vomit. Globs of brains and flesh everywhere. It appeared justice had been served after all, nature’s way in the wild.

Turning away, he pushed the night vision goggles up his forehead, closed his eyes, and covered his mouth with his hand to thwart the overwhelming urge to puke.

A faint whimper coming from the area of Hines’ decapitated remains instantly turned him around. There’s no way he could be alive without a head, yet Marshall dipped down to his side and touched the neck of the headless corpse for signs of a pulse.

Nothing, of course.

He rose to his feet.

Then he heard the whimper again.

Bending down to more closely examine the body, he noticed a hint of blonde hair poking out from the bunch of limbs underneath Hines’ bulk.

Gasping, “Oh my God! Jewels, is that you?” Marshall immediately rolled Hines’ corpse away from the limbs and rapidly cleared away the branches.

Sure enough, there she was lying on her side. Legs curled under her chin. Eyes pinched tightly shut. Body quivering violently.

“Jewels,” he rejoiced, gently stroking the side of her cheek with the back of his hand.

With a violent knee jerk reaction, she gasped at his touch.

“Jewels. Honey, it’s me. Marshall. Marshall Watters.”

Continuing to squeeze her eyes shut, she remained in a ball. “No. Don’t. Please...,” she mumbled.

Firmly planting his hands on her shoulders, he turned her onto her back.

Recoiling from his touch, she stiffened her body and pressed it against his hands, resisting, but he rolled her over anyway. Despite lying on her back, she kept her knees tucked high into her abdomen and her chin pressed deep into her chest.

“Jewels, relax. The bear’s gone. Hines is dead. Everything’s okay. This is Marshall Watters with the MTAF and I’m going to take you home.”

After a moment: “Home?” she whispered through chattering teeth, her chin still tucked deep in her chest.

A smile of relief raced across Marshall’s face. “I’m going to take you home, Jewels,” he said, gently stroking her face with the back of his hand. “Now lift up your head and open your eyes.”

Gradually raising her head up so it was no longer pressed into her chest, her eyelids remained scrunched closed.

“Come on. Open those big beautiful blue eyes,” he continued to encourage, turning and tilting her head so when her eyes opened, they would gaze directly into his. “Trust me,” he whispered.

The muscles in Jewels’ face slowly relaxed.Guardedly, she opened her eyes.

Making sure his best smile was there to greet her, “Jewels. It’s over, Honey. I’m gonna take you home.”

A faint smile broke across her tear-streaked face.

Cradling her chin between his hands, “Jewels, how about we start by getting you out of these cuffs?” he said, nodding at her arms.

Sniffling, “Yes, please,” she whispered, weakly nodding.

Patting down his pockets in search of a handcuff key, he didn’t find one.

Fear recaptured Jewels’ face.

“Don’t worry. I
will
get you out of those cuffs, Jewels. I promise.” Holding up a finger up as a gesture she should not panic, but rather pay attention to him, Marshall pressed the mic of the radio headset. “Hey, guys, what’s your ETA?”

Starved for good news, Jewels bird-dogged his every move.

“About twenty seconds, Sir,” a voice responded through the tiny device in his ear.

“A few seconds,” Marshall relayed to Jewels, with a confident smile. Into the mic: “I’ve got a situation here. The victim is in leg and handcuffs, but I don’t have a key on me to release her.”

“Not a problem, Sir. We can take care of that.”

“Good. Get here.”

Forming an okay gesture with his hand to Jewels, he flipped off the radio transmitter.

Moments later the sound of rushing footsteps drew louder and louder as the men’s boots crunched against the brittle needles of the forest floor.

Intending to meet his team, Marshall leaped to his feet.

“Wait! Please don’t go! Don’t leave me!” Jewels wailed, hysterically yanking her arms against the tree trunk and thrashing her body in a panicked attempt to follow him.

Instantly, Marshall was back at her side. Pressing her forearms firmly against the forest floor, he kept her from fighting the handcuffs and possibly injuring herself more. “I’m right here, Jewels. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you.”

Intensifying her crying, she shriveled into a helpless ball.

Lying down next to her and holding her the best he could given the situation, he cradled her head to his chest. “This will all be over any minute now, Jewels. Trust me. It’s going to be okay,” he promised, kissing her forehead.

And sure enough, just like Marshall had promised, moments later he was reaching behind the tree trunk unlocking the handcuffs. Turning to the men, and clearing his throat, “Take care of that,” he said, nodding at the corpse, knowing his team would know what he meant. Immediately the men swiftly dragged the body and head out of Jewels’ sight and covered them with the branches that once buried her.

After removing the leg irons, Marshall helped her sit up. Not even bothering to massage her throbbing wrists and ankles, Jewels flung her arms around Marshall’s muscular neck. “I owe you my life,” she whispered in his ear then kissed him on the cheek before collapsing into his sinewed shoulder.

Without reserve he hugged her tightly, resting his head on hers.

Five envious men watched, mouths gaping. Howard Dyson included.

Slowly peeling her away, “Julia, you don’t owe me anything,” he said, gently stroking her hair. Looking up at the goo-goo eyed men, while purposely avoiding direct eye contact with Dyson, he added, “I was just doing my job,
Miz Andrasy
.”

Drooping her head, she stared at the ground, massaged her paining wrists.

Marshall put two fingers under her chin, raised her head so their eyes would meet. “Jewels, I have to take care of a few things. These guys...,” he said, pointing to the five men dressed in black military garb who surrounded them, “are good guys. They’re part of my MTAF team and they’re here to help you. I won’t be too far away, but I need to take care of a few things. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jewels said, her voice stronger, sounding more like herself. Now self-conscious with the other men around, she closed Hines’ FBI jacket around her body, crossed her arms over her chest, and squeezed her legs tightly together.

“Oh, and you have a visitor,” Marshall said, pointing at Dyson as he pushed to his feet.

Perking up, “Howard?”

“Miz Andrasy,” he replied with sterile formality.

Blinking, “Uh, are you up her for the bear story?”

Flashing a gold badge at her, “Just working on my collection,” he said, abruptly turning and walking away.

Strange, Marshall thought, witnessing what had just transpired between his mentor and the woman he believed he loved. The old fox was smart. Sly. Up to something. He could
feel
it. And he knew it involved Jewels. Would he have to match romantic wits with the SEALs legendary Howard Dyson, vying for the love of the same woman?

Glancing over at Jewels, she was staring at him, a soft, but sincere and sexy smile.

With a wink and wave at her, Marshall turned, jogging down the path.

Kneeling at her side, “My name is Wilson, Ma’am,” the average-looking man said, dumping the big red medical duffle next to her. “I’m going to take your vitals, okay?”

“Okay.”

A tall man, with the appearance of a mafia hit man, approached her. “Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw, at your service,” he said, bending down on one knee next to her. “I’ll bet you’re thirsty. Would you like some water?”

“Yes, please.”

Opening a big pocket on the side of his tactical pants, he pulled out an eight-ounce bottle of water, unscrewed the lid and handed it to her.

Jewels gulped it.

“Easy now,” Bradshaw cautioned.

About twenty feet in front of her, “You still okay?” Marshall called out to her.

Still drinking the water, she nodded and watched

Marshall once again disappear into the dense forest.

Bradshaw to Wilson: “I’m heading back to the compound, can you take it from here?”

“Sure,” Wilson said, smiling at Jewels.

Rising to his feet, “I’m outta here,” Bradshaw said.

Smiling sweetly, “Thank you so much,” Jewels said.

Bradshaw nodded, turned and jogged down the same path Marshall had taken, disappearing into the dense forest as well.

“You’re a little banged up and you’re going to be fine, but we need to get you to the hospital,” Wilson said, slinging the stethoscope around his neck then removing the blood pressure cuff from her arm.

Shrugging, “Okay. Whatever,” Jewels softly replied, sucking the last drops of water from the bottle.

Bradshaw reappeared from the darkness, jogged over to her again. Handing her a blanket, “Marshall said you might want this.”

Eagerly accepting it, “Thank you very much and please tell Marshall thank you, too.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said with a smile and wink, then turned and left as quickly as he had arrived.

Jewels’ face contorted in agony as she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.

Wilson saw her reaction. “How about I give you something for the pain,” he suggested, reaching into his medical bag.

Nodding gratefully, Jewels smiled. A little, or a lot, of pain relief would be most welcomed.

After tying a length of surgical tubing around her upper arm, “Let’s get her out of here,” Wilson called over his shoulder as he filled a syringe with the painkiller.

Two men dashed over with a stretcher, dropped it next to Jewels. Preparing to take her on, they started by unbuckling three wide, nylon belts.

Jewels’ eyes bulged at the sight of the men who were obviously preparing to strap her to the stretcher. Slowly, she seesawed her head back and forth. “No. No,” she quietly sputtered, scooting on her butt, away from the stretcher.

“Whoa! Where are you going?” Wilson quizzed, quickly snatching her by the wrist and jerking her back toward him.

Eyes wide, Jewels watched as Wilson forcefully stretched her arm out and rapidly pushed the sleeve of the FBI jacket above her elbow.

Trembling, “No. No,” she softly pleaded.

“Hold still,” he said firmly, quickly dabbing the underside of her elbow with an alcohol pad then pricking her vein with the needle.

Images of being held captive in Doc Callahan’s exam room assaulted her mind.

Wilson slowly plunged the syringe contents into Jewels’ arm. But before he could empty it, she ripped her wrist free from his grip, springing to her feet.

“Get away from me,” she barked, quickly removing the tourniquet and throwing it on the ground.

Looks of confusion passed between the three attending men. One of the two men prepping the stretcher rose to his feet, taking a step toward Jewels.

Rubbing her arm where the needle had been inserted, “Get away from me,” she barked again, slowly retreating into the dark woods.

“It’s okay. Nobody’s gonna hurt you,” the man said, taking another step toward her, his hands outstretched to his side in a non-combative gesture, though poised to grab her just the same.

“You’re right about that,” Jewels snapped. Whirling around, she sprinted up the mountainside in the dark.

“Get her,” Wilson yelled.

The commotion attracted Marshall’s attention. He rushed over to the spot where he had left Jewels. “What the hell’s going on?” he asked, his head darting back and forth in search of a sign of Jewels.

“She freaked out and took off running up the side of the mountain,” Wilson replied, shaking his head in disgusted bewilderment.

Raising an eyebrow, “Freaked out? What do you mean?”

“Yeah, freaked out. I was getting ready to administer a painkiller when she started to back away. I asked her where she thought she was going and grabbed her arm—”