Trust Me: The Lassiter Group, Book 1 (12 page)

“Don’t worry about it.”

“The way I shouldn’t worry about being Bertha’s bitch when this stunt lands me in prison?”

“Bertha?” His lips twitched.

Oh, he was so not grinning at her.

The officer stepped out of his car and approached theirs. The second he reached the rear of the vehicle, Lucas cranked the ignition and punched the gas. Gravel spun from the tires and the cop stumbled back.

He regained his footing and ran for his car just as they zipped around the next bend, leaving him behind them.

Max tipped her head. “What now, genius?”

“Since he’s probably already on the radio calling it in, meaning more cars will be closing in on us faster than you can say Royal Canadian Mounted Police, we need to ditch the car.”

She surveyed the dense woods they flew past. “Ditch it,” she echoed. “Where?”

“Not now, Max.”

“Hey, I wasn’t the one stupid enough to drive twenty-five miles over the speed limit cuffed to a wanted fugitive.”

The RCMP car rounded the last bend, gaining on them.

Lucas whipped the Corvette down a side road on the right. Max gripped the side of her seat as they bounced over the gravel road, clouds of dust mushrooming behind the car.

“This might lead to a dead end.” She wouldn’t have thought it necessary to state the obvious until Lucas floored the gas pedal.

“You should know that I really hate backseat drivers.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m next to you—” The rest was cut off as she sank her teeth into her bottom lip as he whipped them around another sharp turn.

They were driving parallel to the Saint John River now. Waterfront lots and cottages blurred past.

“Lucas!” She braced for impact at the sight the Maple tree that was suddenly in the middle of the road that forked off in either direction.

“Jesus Christ.” He wrenched on the wheel, losing the driver’s side mirror as they barely scraped by the tree. “Out,” he snapped a minute later when the car skidded to a stop around another bend, the thick brush partially concealing the car.

She shoved his phone in her bag and slid it up over her shoulder. She was already scrambling over the seats after him by the time he got the door open.

He gave the area only a cursory scan before pulling her after him. Dead leaves crunched under their feet, their breaths clouding on the crisp air as they tried to get as much distance between them and the approaching siren as possible.

“This way.” Lucas led her down a twisting path that took them closer to the water. They emerged beside a toolshed tucked into the woods next to a waterfront cottage.

Breathing hard, Max tugged on the cuffs. “Take these off.”

“I can’t.”

“Lucas—”

He dragged her around to the shed’s front door. “I don’t have the key.”

Not caring if it slowed them down for a few seconds, she dug her heels into the ground. “Where the fuck is it?”

“Probably back with the truck.”

She jumped back to avoid being smacked with the shed door as Lucas yanked it open. “You didn’t grab it off the floor when you took the cuffs?”

“Didn’t have time to look for it.”

“You intentionally shackled us together knowing you didn’t have the key? That’s brilliant.” She followed him into the shed, wondering how many critters called the rotting shack home in the off-season.

“I had to improvise.” He started moving tools and crates out of the way. “Maybe if you’d cooperated with me earlier…”

She scoffed. “So this is my fault?”

“Pretty much.” He grabbed something off the shelf. “I need a piece of wire or something.”

They both heard more sirens in the distance and hurriedly dumped boxes over until she found something suitable.

Lucas snatched the wire out of her hand and slid it into the lock on his cuff, circling it around. “Almost…”

“Hurry up.”

“Got it.” He slid free of the cuff. “Grab the paddles behind you.”

Paddles? As in a paddle for a boat? Not a chance. She followed his gaze anyway, shaking her head even before she spotted the peeling wooden paddles that looked like they dated back to the province’s original British and French settlers. Not a
fucking
chance.

“I don’t think so.”

He grabbed both paddles and disappeared outside. “We need to move.”

Left with no choice but to follow him, Max shut the shed and caught up with him near the front of the cottage.

“I’m not getting in that canoe.” The canoe looked to predate the paddles by at least another century. They’d have a better shot of floating downriver in a bathtub.

Lucas dragged it across the rocky beach. “Fine, you hang out where the cops will eventually look while I’m home free on the other side of the river.”

She caught up to him and snatched one of the paddles out of his hand. He pushed the front end of the sickly ash-colored canoe into the water.

“After you.”

Max didn’t move.

Lucas frowned. “What’s your problem? You can swim, can’t you?”

“Sure.” If sinking like a stone counted.

“Get in then.”

Holding her breath, she eased into the canoe, trying not to squeal when it started to tip.

“If you move any slower you’re going to meet Bertha sooner than you’d like.”

Shooting him a dirty look over her shoulder, she made it to the front seat. Lucas shoved them off and stepped in behind her. The canoe pitched precariously to the right, and Max latched onto the sides even though there was a good chance the wood would crumble under her fierce grip.

“Paddle, Max. Faster,” he added when it took her a few more seconds to make much progress.

“You should have handcuffed yourself to a member of the national rowing team if you wanted someone experienced.”

Awkward at first, they fell into a brisk rhythm, paddling until Max’s arms burned and ached from the strain. It gave her a whole new appreciation for athletes who specialized in any type of rowing event.

After an hour or two passed with no sirens heard across the river, they relaxed and drifted with the current.

“So what was that back in the diner anyway?”

Max glanced over her shoulder. “What was what?”

“That kiss.”

Her hand slipped and she nearly dropped the paddle in the river. “What about it?”

“You sure made it look good.”

“That was your advice earlier, wasn’t it? Making it look good.”

He didn’t respond right away, then, “You sure it had nothing to do with that waitress coming on to me?”

Hearing the laughter in his voice, she sighed. “Sorry, but any fantasy you’re harboring of two chicks getting into a catfight over you will have to wait until after Bertha is done with me.”

Lucas laughed, and she grinned, her body recovering from the amount of adrenaline injected into her bloodstream.

“There are some rocks up ahead, once we clear them we’ll put in to shore.”

No sooner did Max spot the rocks up ahead than the water parted directly in front of them. She heard the bump, felt the boat rock wildly.

She grabbed the edges, tried to compensate but knew it was useless.

The canoe tipped, dumping them into the river.

Icy water closed over Max’s head. The water immediately soaked through her clothes, drawing her deeper. The frigid temperature seeped into her bones as she sank, turning her blood cold as she struggled against the current.

Every direction she turned was dark, empty.

Oh god, which way was up?

Her heart pounded in her ears, the frantic pulse releasing a rush of panic that paralyzed her. Suspended in the water, unsure of whether or not she was sinking or floating toward the surface, she kicked her legs, desperate for any leverage that might save her.

Something clamped around her wrist jerking her upward, and her head crashed through the surface. Her mouth opened automatically to draw in enough air.

“I’ve got you,” Lucas said against her ear.

Instinctively, she tried to turn and cling to him, but he locked his arm across her upper body. “I won’t let go.”

“Prom—promise?” The freezing water sloshed around her face as she tried her best to relax in his hold. His grip forced her to stay on her back as he headed for shore.

That was twice now he’d stuck his neck out to save her ass. She could have easily drowned the two of them if her panic had gotten the better of her.

When her feet scuffed the rocky bottom, she planted her feet too quickly and tried to stand. The water was only thigh deep, but her knees quivered and would have given out if Lucas hadn’t been at her side, half-dragging, half-carrying her to shore.

Although she wouldn’t have admitted as much to him, she was thankful he was there. His presence held back the hysteria lodged in her throat, all of which was entirely her brother’s fault. If CJ hadn’t jumped on top of her in the pool during their first swimming lesson as kids, she might have stuck with the lesson past the first five minutes.

Once they hit the beach, she eased away from him, finding the weight of his arms around her a little too comforting. He glanced down at her, his gaze far too perceptive, and she ducked her head.

Now that her heart began to slow, she started to shiver. A gust of wind slashed right through her wet clothes. She might as well have been naked for all the protection the drenched fleece gave her.

She wrapped her arms around herself, sinking on to a large rock.

Lucas caught her arm. “We need to get warmed up.” He nodded toward a path that cut across the grassy bank in front of them. “I thought you said you could swim?”

“Yeah, the doggie paddle.”

He arched a brow.

“What? You just didn’t give me time out there to show you my moves.”

“You should have said something.”

Legs still a little rubbery, she stumbled up the path. “I wasn’t exactly anticipating our little dip.”

Lucas stopped, and she followed his gaze to where a blue and white clapboard cottage sat on a cement foundation, tucked under a group of cedar trees.

“Do you think anyone is around?”

“Probably not at this time of year.”

Hopefully
not at this time of year. Max stopped, spun around. “Where’s my bag?”

Lucas carried on ahead of her. “My guess would be at the bottom of the river.”

“You lost it?”

“I was kind of busy saving your life.”

“My life was in that bag.” Her whole life or what was left of it. Identification. Money. Guns.

“So was my gun and cell phone,” he reminded her. “And you were trying to drown me.”

“Well, I obviously didn’t try hard enough.”

Everything important to her was sitting at the bottom of the river. All because he’d insisted on fleeing the RCMP in a freaking canoe. Who did that? And so what if it worked and they were likely searching for them upriver somewhere? She was now broke, unarmed and without a vehicle or even a place to go.

God, could the day get any worse?

She glanced down at the first drop of water that hit her hand. Tipping her head back, she felt more drops of rain on her face.

Perfect.

Fallen leaves blanketed the small yard and gravel driveway that disappeared into the woods ahead of them. If no one had been by to rake the leaves, maybe whoever vacationed here during the summer months wouldn’t be back until spring.

“Give me a sec.” Lucas disappeared around the corner.

Frustrated and freezing, she waited for him, no longer able to hold back the shivers that shook her inside out. True to his word, Lucas reappeared a minute later, probably having scouted the perimeter.

He pulled open the storm door and knocked twice on the oak-paneled interior one.

No response.

On tiptoes, Max peeked through the window beside the door, scanning the dark interior for any signs of movement.

She turned to Lucas. “I don’t think anyone is home.”

He nodded thoughtfully, then glanced down. He lifted the mat, but there wasn’t anything waiting for them this time.

“You didn’t think it was going to be that easy twice in one day, did you?”

Ignoring her, he crouched beside an oversized terracotta pot, empty except for soil. “Jackpot.” He smiled and held up a key.

Shaking head to foot, she grabbed the key and slid it into the lock. The door needed a nudge to get past the first few inches, and she stepped inside, Lucas following right on her heels just as the rain really started to come down.

The air inside was stuffy and smelled a little like stale cigarette smoke.

“I guess they didn’t feel like cleaning up after their last party.” Not even a little bit judging by the beer bottles littering the top of the table by the kitchen on the left.

Beyond the kitchen area, more party favors—empty chip bags, food wrappers and overflowing ash trays—were scattered around the couch that faced three large windows that looked out at the water.

“Maybe it wasn’t their party.” Lucas nodded from the photograph of a couple in their mid to late fifties on a side table to the ripped open box of condoms on the counter by another row of empty beer bottles.

She shrugged, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. “Maybe the couple in the picture are parents or in-laws and not the owners.”

Spying a lamp on the table near the door, she reached over and switched it on, brightening the gloomy interior. “At least they still pay their power bill in the off-season.”

“They probably keep the basement heated enough so the pipes won’t freeze.”

Her eyes widened, but she was almost afraid to hope the place actually had running water if no one was staying here now. There were two doorways to the right of the woodstove and one of them had to lead to a bathroom.

“Where are you going?”

“To see if the bathroom window is big enough for me to squeeze through later.” She rolled her eyes, not bothering to look back and see if he actually believed that.

The light in the bathroom worked as well, and the sight of the corner shower nearly made her weep. Which she nearly did when she tried the faucet at the sink and after a minute the water turned warm.

“Thank god.”

“Well, that should help get you warmed up.”