Hide From Evil Page 7

  Krista swallowed hard, unable to take her eyes off the scene of her own death. She hoped she would pass out before they hit the ground.

  “Brace yourself,” Sean said.

  Brakes squealed and the scent of burning rubber invaded her nostrils. The seatbelt threatened to cut her in half at the waist as she was flung forward toward the dashboard. Pain exploded as her forehead made contact with the dashboard and then was wrenched to the side and into the window. Krista wasn’t sure if it was her head or the truck that was spinning.

  Metal crunched and the truck shuddered to a stop. Krista blinked her eyes. The sun was almost down, but she could see the front of the truck crunched around the thick trunk of a pine tree. For several seconds, all she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her head, the harsh echo of her own breath.

  A big, masculine hand curled around her arm. She looked over at Sean. His face was grim, and he had a cut over his eyebrow that was streaming blood that looked black in the dim light, but from what she could tell, he wasn’t seriously injured. Relief washed through her so intensely that it took her several seconds to register the fact that his lips were moving.

  She shook her head to clear it, wincing as the movement shot a spike of pain through her skull. “What?”

  “Are you okay? Can you move?” His voice was quiet, but she could sense the anxiety.

  “I think so,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt and carefully sitting up as she took stock of her injuries. Her head was ringing, and when she put her hand up to her forehead she could feel a goose egg that was tender to the touch. But somehow, miraculously, she seemed otherwise okay. “You’re bleeding,” she said, reaching with a shaky hand toward his face.

  Sean leaned over to look in the rear-view mirror and lightly fingered the cut. “Nothing a Band-Aid can’t help,” he said. He unclipped his seatbelt and reached behind the seat, wincing as the motion pulled at some unseen injury. He had a bottle of water and a bandana in his hand, which he soaked and used to dab at the cut on his head.

  “Nice driving,” she said.

  “Thanks,” he said with a half smile. “I was first in my class when we did defensive and evasive driving techniques. Never thought they’d come in handy like this.”

  “You saved our lives,” Krista said, feeling her muscles start to tremble as the enormity of what had almost happened hit her with the force of a truck. “I thought they were going to run us off the road. I thought we were dead for sure.” Her heart raced and her teeth started to chatter, her body shaking so hard it felt like her muscles were going to detach from the bones.

  She heard the sound of a car door opening and shutting, and a few seconds later her own door opened and she was being pulled out of the truck. Her knees started to buckle and he wrapped his arms around her to hold her up.

  Krista instinctively wound her arms around his waist, up under his jacket, burying her face against the rock wall of his chest, seeking relief from a cold that had taken hold of every pore.

  “You’re okay. We’re okay.”

  Screaming engines. Screeching tires. The guardrail hurtling at them, and after that, the abyss…“Oh God, we could have—”

  “Stop.” His command was firm, but gentle. She wondered how he could possibly be so calm. “Don’t let your mind go there. Don’t think about what could have happened.”

  Big hands smoothed up and down her back, and she swore she could feel the heat of his palms through the bulk of the parka. She didn’t think it was possible, but she felt her body calming, the tremors subsiding, her breath easing as her pulse rate slowed to merely double time.

  As the chill eased and the adrenaline faded, she became aware of several things. The subtle shift of muscle under the soft flannel fabric of his shirt. The smell of woodchips and soap that pierced through the oily burn of tire rubber and clutch fluid. The way his muscled arms wrapped all the way around her, how his hand was big enough to span her back.

  How his other hand had come to rest on the top of her hip, his thumb riding the dip of her waist as his fingers curved down.

  Was it just her, or did his body temperature jump a good five degrees too?

  She lifted her head, licking her lips nervously when she saw him. It was too dark to read his expression, but she could feel the intensity of his stare.

  Her breath caught in her chest and her heart started a steady thrumming in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

  “I better call the police,” Sean said, dropping his arms and stepping away quickly, then cursed when she stumbled a little at the abrupt motion.

  She held up a hand to signal she was all right. Once again her brain cluttered with images. Bright lights flooding the cab. The SUV roaring up behind them as the truck sped uncontrollably toward the side.

  This was no accident. Her stomach bottomed out at the realization. “They need to know what they’re dealing with so they can investigate properly,” she was amazed at how calm she sounded. Sean paused, phone in hand. “They’re coming to the scene of an attempted murder.”

  Chapter 5

  Goddamn it, I knew the second I laid eyes on you there was going to be trouble,” he muttered as he thumbed the DISCONNECT button on his phone before the 911 call could go through.

  Dread coursed through him at the idea that these assholes had anything to do with Krista.

  He didn’t want to believe, didn’t want to think for a second that this had anything to do with her investigation into who or what might have been involved with Nate Brewster.

  He wanted to dismiss the idea as crazy, even though every instinct was screaming that she was right.

  “Goddamn it,” he muttered again, casting her a sidelong glare. “You are really something else. I was happy enough just minding my own business, and now I have people trying to run me off the road.”

  Even in the rapidly dimming light, he could see guilt mingled with fear in her wide eyes. “What if they come back?”

  Sean shoved aside his anger. Right now he needed to focus on keeping them both alive. He listened, but there was no sign the SUV was returning. “We’re far enough off the road that we’ll have time to get out of here if we hear someone coming.”

  She nodded and wrapped her arms around her waist, steadying herself. Pissed as he was at her for dragging him into this mess, he had to fight the urge to go over and hold her. What had started out as a comforting gesture to keep her from sliding into shock had turned into something more way too quickly. By the time she warmed up to him and was looking at him with those big eyes, every sense had kicked into high gear and he was using every ounce of restraint to keep his hand from sliding down the slim curve of her butt.

  His fingers still twitched at the memory of the way his hand settled into the dip of her waist, making him wonder if he could wrap his big hands all the way around. The way she’d burrowed into him, her breath hot against his chest, making him kick himself for covering her up with the bulky parka that kept him from feeling the soft press of her breasts against him.

  “The accelerator got stuck,” she said. “When did you realize it?”

  “Right about the time we started down the grade and I couldn’t slow the truck,” he snapped.

  “How did the pedal feel?” she asked as she opened the truck door and started rummaging around.

  He struggled to remember. “I’m not sure. Why?”

  “Do you have a flashlight?”

  He leaned over her and grabbed a duffle bag that contained emergency supplies, including a Maglite.

  “What are you doing?” he asked as Krista went around to the driver’s side and bent over to stick her head down by the floor.

  She ignored him. “Did it feel like it totally gave under your foot and got stuck there, or did it give and come back like normal but the accelerator stayed engaged?”

  He crouched down next to her and tried to figure out what she was looking at. “Like it gave and stuck there even when I took my foot off.”

&n
bsp; “Huh. Well the accelerator can get stuck for a lot of reasons. Sometimes it’s carbon buildup on the throttle bore; sometimes it’s friction; sometimes it’s just a floor mat getting stuck.”

  “Frank serviced the truck about a month ago and cleaned out the fuel injection system, so that rules out buildup. And I don’t have any floor mats.”

  “Another way to get it to stick,” she said as she straightened, “is for someone to put something in the throttle body that will hold it open once you get up to speed. But I need to look under the hood for that.”

  “How do you even know any of this?”

  “My uncle is a mechanic. He taught me about cars.”

  He was a little slow on the uptake after the crash, but his brain finally did the math. “Your car?”

  She was silent for several seconds, and then: “I blew the fuses with my jumper cables and a screwdriver.”

  And he’d fallen for her damsel-in-distress act hook, line, and sinker. “Son of a bitch.”

  She straightened up. “Do you believe me now that this wasn’t an accident?”

  Sean stood, grimacing as several aches emerged as the adrenaline wore off. “I don’t know what to believe, except for the fact that whenever you show up, you don’t bring me anything but a shitload of trouble.”

  He pulled out his phone and dialed 911.

  Krista paced back and forth, rubbing her hands up and down her arms as she listened to Sean report what had happened to the police. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe they actually tried to kill us,” she said when he hung up.

  “Lucky for you they didn’t succeed. Now maybe you can take a hint and back the hell off.”

  She stopped short. “What are you talking about? This proves I’m onto something. We have to find out who’s behind this—”

  “I don’t know about this we stuff. Like I keep saying, you want to keep digging up trouble. That’s your business. I don’t give two shits about anything except being left alone.”

  “Sean, someone tried to kill us tonight. You think they’re going to drop it?”

  “I’m pretty sure I can take care of myself if you just leave me the hell alone.” He told himself that after tonight, he didn’t give a damn what happened to her. She could clean up her own mess.

  Krista pulled out her phone and dialed. “Mark? It’s me. I’ve been in an accident.”

  Mark? Sean curled his fingers into a fist as he realized she must be talking to her boss, Mark Benson. After his release, Sean was determined not to wallow in the past, but he couldn’t keep the bitter taste from creeping into his throat at the thought of that man.

  Krista had played her part in getting him convicted, but it had been Benson who’d made the call to push for the death penalty. Decided to make an example of Sean to make sure he did well in the polls for the upcoming election.

  At least Krista’s zeal had stemmed from her desire to punish someone she was convinced was guilty.

  “No, I’m fine, because of some miracle and Sean’s excellent driving…Yes, I came up to talk to him about what happened to Jimmy Caparulo and the information I found on Nate…Nothing so far, but Mark, someone tampered with Sean’s truck. Whoever is behind this, they’ve targeted us now. I need you to officially open the investigation, show whoever’s doing this they can’t get away with this—”

  She stopped at the sound of an engine approaching. “The police are here so I have to go, but I’ll call you later.”

  Sean took a quick look to make sure it was the police before he called out their location.

  Flashes of red-and-blue light from the squad car bounced off the trees. The sound of boots crunching through the brush was accompanied by the wide beam of a flashlight.

  “We’re right here, officer,” Krista called. Sean heard the cop radio in his location as he approached.

  “You folks call in the accident?” he said as he approached.

  “Yes,” Sean said.

  “That’s just it, officer—we don’t think it was an accident. Someone deliberately tampered with the car, causing us to lose control—”

  “Now hold on,” the cop said, raising a beefy hand. “Why don’t you let us do our job and figure out what happened, and you go ahead and tell me how you ended up against this tree.”

  “With all due respect, officer, I’m a deputy prosecuting attorney with the King County prosecutor’s office, and I believe this is related to a case—”

  “With all due respect, miss,” the cop said, hitting Krista full in the face with the blinding beam of the flashlight, “you’re in my jurisdiction now and I will do my own investigation of the scene.”

  The cop’s attitude put every nerve on edge. Sean had run across dozens of guys like him in prison. He was just like the guards who got their one little taste of power and took every opportunity to shove their authority down your throat. Sean had learned the hard way that the best way to deal with it was just to ignore it, let them have their one moment of superiority in their otherwise pathetic lives, even though every instinct was screaming at him to punch the cop in his doughy face.

  When Krista glared back and opened her mouth to rip him a new one, Sean grabbed her by the arm and leaned in to whisper, “Don’t. It’s not worth making trouble.”

  He could feel her muscles tense, but she kept her mouth shut.

  Sean silently handed over his driver’s license when the cop requested it. The cop studied it for a long time. He lifted the light and pinned Sean with the beam. “You’re that murderer that just got off, aren’t you?”

  Sean didn’t so much as blink, careful not to give away any hint of the hostility burning through him like acid.

  After several seconds the cop gave his license back. “Fresh out of prison, and now you’ve had a head-on with a tree.” The cop took a closer look at the truck, whistling as the beam of his flashlight illuminated the front of the truck. “When you called, you said you didn’t need medical attention. You sure about that?”

  Sean squinted as the beam hit him in the face. “We’re a little banged up, but nothing a couple ibuprofen won’t cure.”

  “Hard to believe, with how crunched up that truck is.” He stepped closer and tilted his head up to look at Sean. He made a loud sniffing noise. “You know how they say sometimes drunks don’t get injured because their bodies are more relaxed? You been drinking?”

  “No.”

  “I told you, the car was tampered with,” Krista burst in, “and then someone drove up in an SUV and tried to run us off the road.”

  “First you’re tampered with and now someone’s trying to run you off the road? You better get your stories straight. In the meantime, I believe I’ll have to ask you to take a breathalyzer.”

  He crunched back to the car to retrieve the equipment, and Sean heard him speaking over the radio. “This is Deputy Jensen. I’m at the scene of an accident on Highway-Two, west side of the highway just past mile marker fifteen. I’m going to need a tow truck to pull this old pickup. I’m treating this as a probable DUI.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Krista muttered.

  “I agree,” Sean said. “But stay quiet and cooperate. Don’t give him any more reason to fuck with us.”

  Krista muttered something about Barney Fife but didn’t protest when the cop held out the breathalyzer first to Sean and then to her.

  “There, satisfied?” Krista said when the beer Sean had with dinner caused him to blow a measly .02 while she herself blew a .05.

  “Breathalyzer only shows alcohol, but I guess you know that, being a big-shot prosecutor. No telling what we’ll find when we run a full drug panel.”

  A siren squawked as another police car pulled up, cutting off Krista’s retort. A tow truck quickly followed, adding flashing yellow and orange to the light show.

  “Armstrong, what the hell are you doing out here? I didn’t call for backup,” he said to the broad figure making his way over to the scene.

  “Sheriff wanted me to come up here,” t
he other deputy said tightly. “He wants you to stay at the scene while I take them into Chelan to take a statement.”

  “Why the hell would he do that? This is my scene, and I can take a statement—”

  “Don’t get all over my ass,” Armstrong said tightly. “Call Doyle yourself if you don’t believe me.”

  The other deputy took a few steps away to do that, his mouth pulling tight as the sheriff confirmed Armstrong’s orders. “Yes, sir.” The man practically spit as he said it.

  “Sir, miss, do you mind coming with me?” Armstrong said, motioning them back toward the road.

  “I need to get my bag from the car,” Krista said.

  “I’ll get it,” Sean said, and leaned though the open door to get Krista’s purse and overnight bag from the back. He then turned to follow the deputy out to the road.

  The tow truck driver passed them on the way. “Wait,” Krista called. “You need to be careful not to dislodge the throttle cable or else you won’t be able to see where it was tampered with.”

  “Ma’am, I really need you to come with me,” Deputy Armstrong said. “I’ll be sure to take down all the details in your statement.”

  Armstrong was much more laid back and polite than Officer Asshole, but something about the situation made Sean uneasy.

  Then again, maybe he was uneasy because the thought of climbing into the back of another cop car brought him back to the only time he’d been arrested.

  Small wonder he looked at the door of that squad car as his own personal gateway to hell. He fought the urge to flee and swallowed back a wave of panic as he climbed into the back seat and slid over to make room for Krista. He took a deep breath, willing his heartbeat to slow, focusing instead on his anger toward the woman next to him.

  For barging into his life and getting him involved in her mess. For putting him in the crosshairs of a killer.

  For the way she pierced through his numb shell and made him excruciatingly aware of how beautiful she was, reminded him of how long it had been since he’d touched a woman, the silk of her skin, the wet heat of her body taking him inside.