Page 9 of Leif

“She’s not dead.” The strong man watched the criminal check her pulse.

“You’re fucking lucky. Get out of my sight.” With that, the criminal tied her up with gentle hands. The whole situation confused me, but I didn’t have time to process it.

“Okay, get driving, but not back to HQ. You’re going to keep going until I tell you to turn. Do you have a cell phone on you?”

He pulled it out of his pocket while driving and handed it to me. I popped the back of it and took out the battery before doing the same to mine.

“So they can’t track us?” he asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

“Just so it’s not as easy.” I shoved the parts into the back of the seat.

“You don’t trust them either.” He focused on the road, and I stared out the window with a hand on the cop’s shoulder. Wet heat seeped from my shoulder, and I watched the trees fly past.

“I knew it. If there’s a war, I’m on your side. Because I don’t trust them either.”

I glanced at him.

His eyes met mine, and he shrugged. “I know you. I’ve seen your past. You’re the good guy. Which means they’re the bad guys. It’s simple, really.”

“That’s a gross invasion of privacy.” I glanced out the window again.

“Sorry. I just needed to know. Dad taught me to trust my gut. I’m doing that, but smart.” He lifted both shoulders, watching the road as he drove. “By the way, did you know you’re bleeding?”

5

Mel

Iawaken, but don’t open my eyes. Instead, I take stock because something isn’t right. The scent of dirt is gone, as is the musky mold and mildew tickle in my nose. I’m not where I was; I’ve been moved.

I inhale, struggling to keep that sleeping rhythm in case I’m being watched. A male scent invades my nose, battling the smell of clean linin and fresh air. Where am I?

My hands aren’t bound anymore. And I’m on something soft. I’d swear it’s a bed, but the last thing I remember is locking my captor in a headlock. And that sudden burst of pain in the back of my head.

I shift a tiny bit, feeling the knot on the back of my head where I was hit. The ache extends into my skull, and I open an eye a tiny bit as my stomach rolls and pitches like I’m in a boat on rough seas. There’s a man in the room, but he’s facing away from me.

He’s perched on the edge of an armchair with no shirt on and a very powerful build that startles me. I’m used to the men I graduated from the academy with, but he’s more like a god with that shoulder-length golden blond hair and a powerful three-quarter profile I can make out.

His shirt is bunched up next to him on the back of the seat, and he’s tending a bloody wound on his shoulder. It’s a gunshot wound, and I can’t help but wonder how he got it. And why I’m here with him. Who is he? Why didn’t he take me to the hospital?

I glanced at the bed I was in. A pretty patchwork quilt in blue and white covered me. Under it, a heavy microfiber fuzzy cream-colored blanket warmed me. Gray sheets under that were cool on my bare arms. The whole room had a very warm, grandmotherly feel to it. Very cozy, pretty, and nice.

A glance out the window told me we were in the woods, and I wondered if this was a good or bad thing. Woods meant harder to escape, and no one would hear me scream. I needed to fight my way out of this one and look for a car to get the hell out, and to the precinct so I could tell them everything that had happened.

Every muscle in my body went tense. I was going to get fired over this.

I glanced at the guy, determined to focus on here and now rather than the troubling things that would happen next.

Was this while situation some new level of crazy from my captor? Somehow I don’t think so. That guy would never have let someone else watch over me, I was sure of that. He had to be the one because that’s how obsession works; he wouldn’t trust anyone else with me. So how did I come to be here with this man?

I scanned him, looking for weapons or anything I needed to worry about. But I saw nothing. His jeans hugged his hips, and I didn’t see a gun tucked into the waistband anywhere. Nor did he seem to have a holster on him. I didn’t even see the glint of a pocketknife.

Which didn’t put my mind at ease.

No, it made me more nervous. Because this guy had potentially taken on a bunch of guys while unarmed. Which meant he was lethal without a gun. That didn’t make me feel better.

But that very obviously was a gunshot wound on his shoulder.

Who shot him? And why?

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