Monroe, Melody S. - Verdict (Siren Publishing Classic) (22 page)

When her breaths evened out, he rolled off her and pulled her onto his chest. “I hate to sound so clichéd, but I think the earth did move.”

She laughed. “You got that right.”

After she didn’t move for several minutes, he thought she’d fallen asleep on him. As the fire spit and hissed, he ran his hands down her back.

She snuggled on his chest. “I’m so comfortable.”

“You don’t have to move.” The logs had burned down to a few glowing embers, and a chill filled the air. “But maybe we should move to the bedroom where it’s a little warmer.”

“Your place or mine?”

Chapter Seventeen

Sunlight streamed into the bedroom window, forcing Stone to crack open an eye. He squinted against the brightness pouring through the sheer curtains. It was a nice day. Finally.

He rolled over and came face to face with a sleeping beauty. Lips slightly parted, face relaxed, Susan’s arm was draped over his waist. He closed his eyes for a moment to savor his memory of their passionate lovemaking.

Susan Chapman was one helluva woman, but until now, he’d never gotten close to anyone he’d protected. Susan was different. She’d wormed her way under his skin, and touched his soul in a way no other woman had. After years of not feeling connected to anyone other than Tom and Peter, Susan had filled a void in his life.

He waited for remorse to rain down on him, half expecting some voice from above to shout down and say he should set her free, that she didn’t need to be with a wanted man, but the lonely part of him blocked his moral obligation to find her another bodyguard.

Not knowing who to trust in his department gave him reason to stay by her side. Pure rationalization, but he was good with that for the moment. He pulled the blanket over her bare shoulder and slipped out of her grasp. He wanted to shower and pack for their surprise date, an idea he’d conjured up in the middle of the night. A nice picnic by the waterfall might help boost her spirits and lessen his guilt.

Between the rain and lovemaking, he’d forgotten to mention Nancy and Doug Abernathy had decided to visit Nancy’s sick mom today, which gave him the day off.

His bare feet hit the cold, wood floor, and a quick chill snaked up his legs. How did the pioneers enjoy life day in, day out in the harsh winter? Maybe they had the right equipment—like wool, flannel, and long underwear. His cotton briefs didn’t cut it.

Stone jogged to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Instant hot water spurted out. As much as he would have enjoyed a long shower, he had a meal to prepare. He finished washing and shaving in record time. In stealth mode, he went back into his bedroom and grabbed his clothes.

Once dressed, he left Susan sleeping and entered the living room. He kicked aside the rug in the middle of the room to expose the trap door that led to the secret basement containing all the camping supplies. He eased open the creaky lid and left the door open in case she awoke and wondered where he might be.

A blast of cold, damp air rushed up to meet him. The steps were steep, and the shaky wooden handrail barely gave a sense of security. Halfway down, he tugged on a hanging string to turn on the light.

Dust, along with the stench of dried animal blood, nearly choked him, but he focused on the task at hand. Off the main room was a smaller area where Tom and his dad prepared their game. Hank must have recently been hunting, if the red stains on the butcher table were any indication.

The main room contained shelves where the Traynors kept backpacks, sleeping bags, boots, rifles, and boxes of clothes. Only because he was Tom’s best friend had Tom shown him the secret passageway that led five hundred feet to the outside. According to Tom’s father, this basement had been used as part of the Underground Railroad to transport slaves.

Knowing the sky-blue jacket and hat he’d found wouldn’t be enough, he pawed through three boxes until he came across some ski pants, a pair of extra thick mittens and a wool blanket. On the shelf, he found a large picnic basket, but decided a backpack would be easier to carry their romantic getaway meal.

Once he collected the needed gear, he brought some of the essentials upstairs. The shower was going full blast. He smiled and looked forward to kissing her silly.

Before she got out of the bathroom, he placed the extra clothes on her bed, then prepared sandwiches for their special date.

Susan patted into the kitchen. “What’s all this?” she said, dragging the towel over her wet hair.

“I don’t have to work today, and I thought it might be nice if we went on a little trip. The view from the top of Cedar Rock is fantastic. A nice picnic lunch is just what the doctor ordered.”

She smiled. “Sounds wonderful.”

“I left some more warm clothes in your bedroom.”

Rubbing her head with the towel, she disappeared to the back. He’d finished making the sandwiches when the sound of gravel clinking together alerted him to possible danger.

He raced to the front window and peered out. As he was about to get his gun and tell Susan to hide, Peter jumped out of the car. What the hell? If Susan saw him, their trust would evaporate.

Braving the cold, he stepped outside and rushed to his friend. “How did you find me?”

“Hello, to you, too.”

“Get in the car. I don’t want Susan to see us together.”

“Whatever.”

Both climbed back inside the cab. “It is good to see you’re not in jail, but I can’t afford to have anyone see us together. You know that.”

Peter had the courtesy to glance to the side for a moment. “I heard the Feds were after you. I’m here for support.”

“How did you find me? I know you’ve been to the cabin years ago, but still.”

“Intuition. Besides, your cell was out.”

“Right. Under any other circumstance I’d like to see you, but with Susan inside, I can’t chance she’ll see me talking to you. Make it quick.”

“I just found out my mother had an affair with Joseph Francisco. I think James is the result.”

His mind raced with the ramifications. “Does James know?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then you need to talk to him. See if he was the one to set you up.”

His jaw tightened. “I can’t think my own brother, or rather my half-brother, would turn against me, but I will dig deeper. I thought you should know.”

“Thanks. Look, you gotta get out of here before Susan sees us.”

“I just got here.”

“I can’t chance losing her trust again.”

Peter shrugged. “Call if you need me.”

Stone shot out of the car and tapped the hood. “Get home safely.”

Peter turned the car around and left. Stone shivered and dashed inside. He stopped in his tracks. Susan was standing at the window, hands on hips, nostrils flared. Oh, shit.

“What was
he
doing here?”

“I thought you trusted me.”

“I did.”

But apparently not anymore.
Stone strode over to the kitchen and pulled the luncheon meat out of the refrigerator. He wanted to finish the job he’d started before the interruption. Susan grabbed his arm.

“Tell me.”

“He wanted to warn me that his brother might be Joseph Francisco’s illegitimate son.”

She stared at him. “Peter Caravello drove all the way from DC to West Virginia to tell you that.”

“And to offer his help.”

Gravel sounded outside. Stone glanced out the window. It wasn’t Peter. “Grab your clothes and come back out here.”

He raced to his bedroom and snatched his sidearm and jacket. She had her jacket and gloves in hand when he met her in the hallway. “Someone’s coming.”

Her face paled. “You don’t think it’s a friend of the Traynors?”

“Don’t know.”

Her arm firmly clasped in his hand, he led her into the living room to the open door in the floor. “Get below and stay there until I come down.”

“Shouldn’t we see who it is?” Her gaze flicked to the dark pit and shivered.

He picked up the two sandwiches and handed her the food. “Go.”

Her fingers dug into his arm. “I’m afraid of the dark.”

Ms. Super Prosecutor? “Light switch halfway down the stairs.” She wouldn’t be safe staying in the living room. “You need to hide.”

Once she descended, he closed the lid and replaced the rug. No one would ever know she was there. Gun in hand, he raced to the window and peered out.

A white Ford Focus crept up the drive and stopped behind his car. Stone’s shoulders relaxed when a tall, gawky blond man, dressed in a blue uniform, got out of the front seat. He couldn’t make out the letters on the man’s nametag, but if he had to guess, the logo might say the name of a garage or that of a landscaping company.

Hank must have forgotten an appointment. He slipped his Glock into the coffee table drawer. No use inciting trouble.

Before the man had a chance to knock, Stone opened the door.

The guy blinked, then smiled. “Howdy.” He looked like he hadn’t visited a dentist in years.

Stone shot a glance outside to make sure he’d come alone. “How can I help you?”

“Hank Traynor around?”

A hint of a Bronx accent surfaced, and his mind raced to Susan’s description of the two men at the diner, but he dismissed his concern. If the man knew Tom’s father’s name, he must be on the up-and-up.

“No. He’s visiting his son.”

“You alone then?”

Odd question. “Yes.”

“Mind if I come in?” The man stepped into the entranceway before Stone could answer.

“As a matter of fact I do mind. Why don’t you come back in about two weeks? Hank should be here by then.”

The man’s pleasant smile disappeared as he shoved past him. Stone stepped back, his mind racing as to how much force he wanted to use to get this guy to leave.

The second the sunlight glinted off the man’s knife, Stone’s body shot to code red alert. Blondie waved the weapon in front of Stone’s face.

“Where’s the woman?”

“What woman?”

“Susan Chapman. Don’t lie to me. She’s staying here.”

Stone inched back toward the coffee table and drew on his FBI training to keep the man talking. “Who told you that?”

“A little birdie at the local diner.”

He connected the dots between the diner and the knife. “You harm Rebecca?”

“The redhead?”

Shit. “Yes.”

Stone lunged and pushed Blondie backward until his back slammed against the wall. As Stone reached up to grab the man’s hand wielding the weapon, the goon wrenched his arm downward and smashed the side of Stone’s neck with more force than he expected for such a scrawny guy.

Pain stunned him for a moment, and he teetered backward. The man sprang toward him and swung his knife hand in a low arc, contacting Stone’s thigh. A sharp pain sizzled up his hip and thigh. Stone ignored the searing ache, cocked back his arm and threw an upper cut, knocking Blondie on his butt.

Stone glanced at the blood racing out of his leg. Shit. Given the depth of the cut, he needed his weapon. He wouldn’t last long in hand-to-hand combat before he bled to death. Stone turned, raced toward the coffee table and whipped open the drawer. His fingers were inches from the Glock when the man wrapped two arms around Stone’s waist and jerked him backwards.

Stone elbowed him in the gut and stomped on the man’s foot.

“Fuck.”

Stone twisted around. Eyes glazed, Blondie swayed. He smashed the man’s nose and followed up with a one-two punch to his stomach.

The bastard wouldn’t go down. Instead he attacked, swinging the knife high. Stone ducked but not before the blade sliced open his cheek.

Stone grunted.

Using every ounce of strength, Stone threw himself at Blondie. He had the weight advantage, outweighing the man by at least thirty pounds. They tumbled to the wood floor. His attacker’s head sent out a loud crack as his skull smashed against the ground.

Stone’s breath whooshed out, but he managed to push up and place a knee in the middle of the man’s chest. “Who are you?”

Blood dripped from Blondie’s nose. The man’s eyes glazed over, then rolled back in his head.

“Damn it.”

Stone got up and staggered to the table to retrieve his weapon. He cocked the gun and pointed the Glock at the still man. His pulse throbbed in his head as blood leaked into his mouth.

“Move and you die.” He wiped the blood coursing down his cheek.

He waited for the man to respond, but the bastard didn’t move. Susan told him two men had shown up to the diner. If this was one of them, where was this man in the plaid shirt? He sure as hell wasn’t going to wait around for him to show.

Assuming the accomplice was nearby, his first priority was to make sure Susan wasn’t harmed. Halfway to the cellar door, he spotted the trail of blood behind him. His leg was leaking life.

He clasped a hand over the gash and searched the kitchen for something to stem the flow of blood. He took a handful of towels, grabbed his jacket and raced to Susan.