Presumed Dead (Love Inspired Suspense) Page 2

  Her spine shot straight. Her eyes snapped wide. She stumbled backward.

  He stepped forward to stabilize her before she lost her balance.

  She scampered away. “If the bomb was for me, how did you know about it?”

  He held his ground. Tilted his head toward the deck. “I saw it being delivered.”

  Her gaze ricocheted back and forth between his eyes. “How? Why are you here? Why does nobody know you’re alive?”

  He pressed his lips together. The truth was going to hurt. Just not as bad as the explosion would have. “I’ve been in the US for the past four years. I wasn’t in the helicopter crash. I’d seen someone tampering with the engines and went to ask my sergeant to delay the op, but before he could halt takeoff, my team headed out. They didn’t make it far before crashing into a fuel tanker. Someone else’s body came home in my coffin.”

  She rocked onto her heels, gripping the back of the couch for balance. “You’ve been pretending to be dead?”

  Was that all she’d heard? “Yes, because—”

  “I am so tired of hearing men’s excuses.” Her hand covered her heart. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I thought you were different, Preston. You used to be.”

  He held out his hands and blinked. What just happened? “You’d rather I be dead?”

  “No.” She took a couple deep breaths. Her eyes grew shiny, like she was about to cry—to mourn his death a second time. “I’d rather you tell the truth.”

  This was what he got for saving her life? A guilt trip? Of course, Holly didn’t know he already had enough guilt to keep him from being able to return home. Probably forever.

  But as for telling the truth, Preston had tried, and his sergeant had been killed because of it. SOAR Commander Robert Long had found Sergeant Beatty’s body hanging in his bunk the morning after Beatty told Preston he’d look into possible sabotage. The death had been ruled a suicide.

  Letting another person die because they knew the truth wasn’t a risk Preston was willing to take, which was why Holly could never tell anyone about him, either.

  “Holly, the CID—Criminal Investigation Division for the military—hid the sabotage from the American people. They aren’t going to let me come back to life and point fingers unless I know exactly who I’m pointing at, and I don’t yet. So that means either the military will throw me in prison, or the person responsible for this will kill me. I have to stay dead for now.”

  He wasn’t the bad guy here.

  She shook her head. Shook it harder. “No. There has to be another way.”

  He used to think the same thing until it ate him up inside. “There’s not.”

  But what-ifs still teased sometimes. What if Holly let the crime scene investigators back at the cabin presume her dead, and she started a new life with him off the grid? Or what if she helped him assume a new identity? Or what if he stayed in the cabin and she visited occasionally? Then he wouldn’t be so alone anymore.

  But none of those would be the best thing for her. He was there for her and not himself.

  She planted her hands on her hips. “Am I just supposed to forget the way you popped back into my life today? Am I supposed to keep this a secret from your family, too? You know your little sister married my brother, right?”

  “Holly.” He couldn’t help reaching for her.

  She knocked his hand down. “That was supposed to be us. Don’t you care?”

  He folded his arms. He wouldn’t tell her how he’d been glad at first when his old buddy Caleb looked out for her after his “death.” Or how he’d broken a couple knuckles punching a tree when she’d finally said yes to the man’s proposal. Or that he’d bought her an engagement ring before he left, and it sat in the loft above them collecting dust.

  “I’m here because I care. I’m sure it would be easier for you if you didn’t know I was alive, but I saw someone plant a bomb in your cabin, and I had to save you.”

  She glanced out the window. “Why would someone want to kill me?”

  The question should rock him as well, but having played dead for the past few years, he’d found out more about murder than he’d ever wanted to know. “It could be a recently released prisoner whose case you lost. It could be a current criminal whose guilt you are about to expose in court. It could be a jealous coworker.” Preston sighed. “Have you received any threats? Do you have any enemies?”

  Her eyes rolled up to look at the ceiling as she thought, and Preston had a pretty good idea of who she was thinking about. Finding her fiancé with the other woman had been an accident. Preston had simply planned to drop off a Bible and couple’s devotional at Caleb’s house as an anonymous wedding gift—a symbol to himself of wishing the best for Holly’s marriage. But instead he’d stumbled upon the fact Caleb was cheating. No way could he let Holly unknowingly form an alliance with a traitor, so he’d snapped a couple photos with his phone and stuck them in her mailbox. Of course, being a philanderer didn’t mean the man was capable of murder…

  “No. I don’t think so.” She looked to him, fear etched like stone in the gray depths of her gaze. “What do I do?”

  Well, she couldn’t die. He wouldn’t let her. His family had already lost too much. She’d already lost too much. “I’m going to have to go back into hiding, Holly. But I’m here for you until I figure out who planted that bomb. You’re going to be safe.”

  She stepped toward him. Probably wanting a hug for support, now that she was momentarily in the acceptance phase of shock. Whether it lasted or not, he couldn’t be there for her like that. They would have to sever their connection soon, and it would be better if there was less to sever.

  He grasped her hands to hold her at arm’s distance. “You can trust me, but we can’t be friends. I’ll be leaving again, so I can’t get close to you.”

  Footsteps thudded outside the front door. The doorknob rattled.

  Preston didn’t have any more time to worry about staying aloof. If he was going to consider himself a bodyguard, then he’d have to protect her. He wrapped one arm around her waist and dived behind the couch as the windowpane next to the door shattered.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Holly’s muscles throbbed against the hardwood floor as the lock on the door clicked and the hinges squeaked. Someone was breaking into Preston’s cabin. She held her breath, igniting fire in her lungs.

  Footsteps thudded toward them, then stopped in the middle of the room.

  She swallowed and looked at Preston to gauge his reaction. His blank expression hid all emotion, but his lack of fear gave her confidence. Did he have a gun? A knife? Experience in hand-to-hand combat? She’d thought she’d known him so well, yet this side of him was completely foreign to her.

  He focused past her, looking underneath the couch. She turned her head to see what he saw.

  Familiar tan leather boots. But probably just familiar because everybody wore outdoorsy boots in Tahoe. The kind of boots that would have no problem chasing her if she ran for the water or the woods. She’d head for the water. Being barefoot, she couldn’t outrun the intruder. She’d have to outswim him.

  The boots turned in a circle, as if the man were studying the small cabin. They tromped into the bathroom, then disappeared as he climbed up the ladder to check out the loft.

  Had he gone all the way into the loft? Would she and Preston be able to sneak out without him seeing? She lifted her chin to visually measure the distance between her feet and the sliding glass door. If she could turn herself around, she might be able to slide the door open without making a sound.

  But what if the rusty doorframe didn’t cooperate? Or the intruder wasn’t all the way up the ladder and he saw the door move? That was where Preston’s military training would have to come in. Though if he had the survival skills she imagined he had, he should be the one planning their escape. She didn’t know what she was doing.

  She sent him a look of panic.

  His fingers found hers. Gently squeezed. As if that was supp
osed to be comforting.

  Did he know who had broken in? Did he know why? He’d said he had enemies of his own. Was this guy after him or her?

  Help, Lord.

  A phone jingled.

  She jolted at the sound, clutching Preston’s hand like a stress ball. Okay, now she was glad he’d made the connection.

  Where was the noise coming from? Maybe she should let him go to silence the cell phone in case it was about to give away their hiding place. If it did, he’d definitely need his hand free so he could leap up and pop the bad guy in the jaw.

  She uncurled her fingers and retracted her arm to give him room to fight.

  The phone jingled again, the sound growing louder. But at least it was on the other side of the couch.

  Preston shook his head. Not his phone?

  “Yeah?” A gruff voice demanded.

  Holly froze. Who answered their phone in the middle of breaking and entering? And had she heard that voice before?

  “The woman got away on a Jet Ski.”

  Holly bit her lip to keep from gasping. This had to be the bomber. And he was talking about her. Had someone hired him to kill her? Someone like her ex’s new girlfriend?

  “Yeah, I’m sure. A guy just showed up at her dock and took her to another cabin. I had to drive to get here, and it looks like they’ve already left. No car in the driveway.”

  She searched for Preston’s eyes. He’d just gone from being dead to being “a guy.” This could mean trouble for both of them. But at least the bomber didn’t know they were still in the room.

  Preston squinted toward the direction of the phone conversation as if it took all his concentration to make out the words.

  “I’m inside the cabin.”

  Pause.

  “I broke in through a window.”

  In place of the silence, a muted but angry voice yelled something in return. Could Preston tell if it was a man or woman on the phone? Because she couldn’t.

  “Well, since I’m already here, I’ll just plant another bomb.”

  Another bomb? Preston’s cabin was going to be destroyed the way hers had been? All out of a jealous rage?

  Her fingernails bit into the flesh of her palm. Maybe Preston wouldn’t have to fight the bomber after all. She was angry enough to take him.

  More jumbled yelling.

  “I won’t use a time bomb again.”

  What other kinds of bombs were there? Holly had seen electronic detonators in movies. Or there were car bombs that ignited when the key was turned. Then there were the terrorists who strapped bombs to themselves. But it was ridiculous for Caleb’s new girlfriend to send someone after her with a bomb. She was the only person Holly could think of who would be after her. Preston had mentioned a few other reasons someone might want her dead, but they all seemed so abstract.

  Her skin grew slick with a cold sweat. She shivered.

  “No more bombs? Fine.”

  Holly closed her eyes. Thank You, Jesus.

  “Yes. I can do that. I’m on my way.”

  Holly watched the tan boots pivot toward the door. Her skin itched in anticipation of the man’s departure. Was he moving in slow motion, or did it just feel like it?

  Finally his feet stomped out onto the front step. The door snapped shut behind him.

  She could breathe again. Her muscles melted toward the floor like snow tracked into the cabin in winter.

  * * *

  Preston’s muscles sprang into action. He leaped from behind the couch and raced toward the shattered window. He needed to know for sure if the intruder was the same perp he’d seen at Holly’s house.

  A dark, lanky man climbed behind the wheel of a Jeep Cherokee. Same guy. What had Holly gotten herself into?

  The engine revved. The SUV pulled away.

  Preston grabbed a pen and scribbled down what he could catch of the license plate number before the vehicle disappeared into the trees. Because there was no way he was going to keep playing hide-and-seek with Holly. The Jeep’s driver needed to be locked behind bars. That was the only way to keep Holly safe. Preston could find somewhere else to hide out if needed.

  “Did you know him?” he asked Holly. She hadn’t seemed to recognize the man when she’d passed him on the road earlier, but that was a completely different situation from being in the same room with him and overhearing a conversation about killing her.

  “I…I don’t think so.” Her feet flopped out to the sides behind the couch. Apparently she wasn’t planning to get up anytime soon. But they couldn’t stay here.

  He leaned over the back of the couch. “We’ve got to get you back to your cabin before the police think you died in the explosion. They’ll find your car there and believe you were inside.”

  She sat up, eyes hard. “Why does it matter?” she challenged him. “You are letting everyone think you died.”

  He’d saved her life, and she wanted to argue? Of course, after finding out her fiancé cheated, her summer cabin blowing up and someone wanting her dead, it might be easier for her to focus on his problems rather than her own. Not that his were any easier to fix. But she obviously wouldn’t understand unless she tried it out for herself. “You want to play dead, too?” he offered.

  “No.” She ignored his extended hand and grabbed on to the back of the couch to pull herself up. “I want you to stop playing dead so we can go talk to the police together.”

  “Let me know when you uncover the real saboteur, and I will be happy to go to police with you.” She seemed to think he could reveal himself without causing any more death. In the best-case scenario of turning himself in, a lawyer much like her would pin sabotage on him and he would live the rest of his life in prison with no chance of ever finding the evidence needed to arrest the real criminals.

  Since she didn’t need his help, he climbed the ladder into the loft to pack all the personal belongings he could fit into a drawstring bag.

  “Okay,” she said.

  Okay what? He scanned the gathered items. It was a shame he didn’t have time to haul it all down to the old pickup on the property at the end of the street. Hank, the older man who lived there, had started a new helicopter tour business and let Preston use his Chevy LUV in exchange for mechanic work. Unfortunately, the vehicle would probably have to be Preston’s new home for a while.

  “Okay, I’ll find your saboteur.”

  Preston looked in her direction, but then had to step to the top of the ladder so Holly could feel the full intensity of his stare. “I was joking.”

  “I’m not.” She stared right back.

  Her determination was cute, but surely it would dissipate when she got back to the mess that was her own life. He scaled down the ladder rungs to lead her toward the sliding glass door so she could return to reality.

  “One killer after you isn’t enough?”

  She stopped in front of him and lifted her chin. “All criminals deserve to be in jail. And it’s my job to put them there.”

  It would be hard to do her job from the grave. Besides… “You’re a defense attorney.”

  “Exactly. I’ll defend you in court so the authorities can go after the real bad guys.” She narrowed her eyes at his amusement. “You tell the world what you just told me, and I’ll make sure they believe it.”

  He sighed. She had no idea how many times he’d considered such an option. But what would keep the same person who’d staged Sergeant Beatty’s suicide from killing her? Or what if she lost the case and felt guilty that he had to spend the rest of his life in prison? He would never do that to her.

  At least this way, everyone believed he’d died a hero. It was better for his family. And for Holly.

  “I wish it were that easy,” he said. Especially now that Holly knew he was alive and stood so close and cared so much.

  She huffed and preceded him out the door. Nix on the “stood so close” part. And quite possibly the “cared so much” part.

  He squeezed his fingers into fists. Too bad he did
n’t know the identity of the person who belonged at the end of his cross and uppercut. He’d settle for either the person who’d sabotaged his operation or the bomber who’d broken into his cabin. Or even Caleb. The man was an idiot for not protecting Holly the way he should have.

  How many times would Preston have to give vengeance over to God? Always once more?

  This is getting worse, Lord. He’d point out the obvious. Make sure God knew he still needed help. Help me stay strong because I’m feeling pretty weak right now.

  His weak spot waited on the Jet Ski.

  He shouldn’t have even let her go out there alone. He needed to get her to the police as quickly as possible. She’d be safer with them than she was with him. He’d be safer, too.

  He avoided looking at Holly directly as he joined her on the watercraft. And she held on to seat handles to avoid touching him as they made their way back across the lake. Or maybe she held on to the handles because he had the drawstring bag on his back.

  Either way, God was giving him the help he’d needed. But it felt hollow somehow. Empty. Lonely. Though he should be used to that.

  He cut the engine a few cabins down to stay out of sight of the emergency workers swarming the smoke-scented rubble. Turning halfway around, he spoke over his shoulder. “You’re not going to tell police about me, are you?”

  She bit her lip. “I will investigate the SOAR sabotage, but as that’s not connected to this bombing, there’s no reason for me to mention your existence to police today.”

  That would have to do for the moment. “Fair enough.”

  She lifted her eyes to his. “Where are you going from here? Don’t you know anyone in the military who could help clear your name?”

  Preston met her gaze. “I do have an old friend who used to be a JAG attorney.”

  Holly looked away. She wouldn’t know he was already aware of her broken engagement, and she obviously didn’t want to tell him about it. “I’ve got my bathing suit on underneath my jeans. I’ll swim back to the cabin, and I’m sure investigators will never imagine I’ve been riding around on a Jet Ski with you.”

  “Thank you.” He exhaled in relief. She may not be happy with the situation, but hey, neither was he. “Hopefully, they can figure out who set the bomb, and you won’t need me anymore.”