Loe raamatut: «Dead Run»

ONE

Kristin James jumped sideways, one foot sliding on the gray dirt as she tried to catch her footing on the rough running trail around Smith Lake on the outskirts of Fort Bragg. “For real?” She threw up her hands, but the mountain biker blasted past, nearly driving her into the woods.

The rider didn’t acknowledge her as he rounded the bend ahead and kept going, the whir of his tires fading among the pine trees.

“Share the road!” She yelled one more angry rebuke for good measure. Seriously.

Rotating her foot to make sure her ankle wasn’t twisted, she stepped onto the trail and picked up speed again, the adrenaline from her near miss amping her heart rate better than the first mile of her run already had.

The All-American Marathon was the next month, and if she was going to maintain her time, she’d better push her training until the runners hit the start line in downtown Fayetteville.

And hope nobody else burst out of the thick pine trees to run her over.

The early-morning Carolina breeze whispered in the pines, mild for March but more bearable than the summer. Other than her “friend” on the mountain bike, she hadn’t seen another soul on the trail. Exactly how she liked it.

A cracking noise around a curve ahead slowed her pace, and she wrinkled her forehead, her steps slowing.

The mountain biker roared around the curve, heading directly toward her.

What was he thinking?

The rider, his face covered by a gray ski mask, ground into the brakes as he neared, the rear end of the bike skidding sideways. The motion threw dirt and gravel on Kristin as she stumbled backward. Taking advantage of her unsteadiness, the rider reached out and shoved her out of the way.

Kristin fought to recover but fell hard to one knee, sticks and pine straw shredding into her skin. She scrambled to her feet and stalked toward the daredevil, who’d dropped the bike in the middle of the trail and stood eyeing her like he was ready for whatever challenge she threw at him.

Well, he’d gotten a bigger challenge than he’d anticipated. Kristin skirted the discarded bike and stopped arm’s length away, sizing up her adversary. He wasn’t much taller than she was, likely a gym rat, the kind of guy who wanted everybody to know his workout routine and to marvel at how he’d built a body by weight machine. He probably skipped leg day, too.

He wore gray cargo shorts, an odd choice for a mountain biker. A tattooed snake wound around his leg from ankle to knee, fangs bared and dripping vivid red blood. Yeah, leg day wasn’t this guy’s favorite, and he tried to cover it with the scary tat. Nice.

If she’d had a card with her, she’d have flicked it in his face and told him what a good personal trainer could do for him. On second thought, she’d never liked his type as a client. Especially not since he was cocky enough to think running a woman off the trail was a viable way to get her attention. “What is your problem?”

A slow grin tipped the corner of his mouth, but it wasn’t amusement flickering in his eyes. It was more like...determination. “No problem. Least not for me.”

The way he said the words jangled memories in a pulse straight to her feet, driving her backward.

No. Kristin retreated from no man. Instead, she squared her shoulders, taking the offensive. “Watch where you’re going. And don’t come near me again.”

She stepped over the rear tire of his bike and moved to start running again.

A heavy arm hooked around her waist and jerked her backward against a chest as hard as steel, lifting her off the ground. A beefy hand clamped over her mouth, twisting her head painfully to the side.

Kristin fought a rising panic. No one had laid a hand on her in years, but the memory bit, drawing long-buried fear with it.

He’s not my father.

But he likely had more nefarious intentions than knocking any supposed disrespect out of her.

This kind of thing didn’t happen to her. It just didn’t. She was the one who taught women how to bring their inner strength out. She wasn’t the one who was attacked on an early-morning trail run, a statistic for the six o’clock news.

Kristin tried to pull away, but the way he’d twisted her head to the side strained her neck and made movement virtually impossible.

Hot breath grazed her ear. “You scream and I’ll make sure you never make another sound again. We’re going to talk about your brother, Kyle, whether you like it or not.” He jerked harder, and her neck screamed in protest.

Her brother? Kyle had been dead for months, killed by a sniper in Iraq. Given their years of estrangement and her brother’s sorry track record for communicating, she would be the last one to have answers anyway.

Kristin scrambled for a plan, a way out. She dropped her struggle and went limp, judging his hold. What weapons did she have left on her body? She couldn’t reach his instep or his throat...none of the vulnerable spots she’d learned in self-defense classes. And if she fought too hard from her current position, the likelihood of him breaking her neck was high.

There was one option.

With all of her remaining strength, she bent her leg and drove her heel back, catching her captor in the knee. The drive caught solid bone, and he roared, his hold releasing as he regrouped.

Kristin’s feet thudded onto the ground, and one skipped out from under her on loose pine needles, driving her to the dirt. She ought to run, but if he pursued on the bike, she’d never be able to get far.

No, she had to fight. Turning on him, she balled her fists and prepared to throw every weapon in her arsenal.

He charged and drove her into a tree, the rough bark digging at her shoulder blade through her thin running shirt.

It took a moment to absorb the blow, but Kristin fought, swinging her hands between his to break his hold. She landed on her feet and advanced as he staggered, driving the heel of her hand into his nose.

There was a thud, and blood soaked the gray ski mask.

The murderous intent vanished as he stumbled and cupped his face, pain erasing his anger. With one more look, he fled, running for the head of the trail with Kristin in pursuit.

Until the sound of running feet from behind had her whirling around to face the next attacker.

* * *

Sergeant First Class Lucas Murphy picked up speed, and his running shoes slipped on loose pine needles, threatening to take him down. He’d come around a corner in the trail in time to see a man shove a woman against a tree...and in time to see her school him in the finer points of self-defense.

Behind him, Travis Heath ran close on his heels. “You take the guy. I’ll check on the woman.” He hooked a left toward the woman and let Lucas pass.

Lucas pushed on, fighting to keep the fleeing man in sight as he cut through trees toward the parking lot. He couldn’t overcome the head start, though, and stopped, helpless, at the edge of the woods as a red pickup spit dirt and roared toward the main road.

Adrenaline and the sudden stop forced his lungs to heave oxygen. His heart pounded from exertion and frustration. With his training, he should have been able to catch a hurting unit like the one the woman on the trail had sent packing. Even from a distance, it was clear her counterattack had the guy running in pain.

That took a special kind of moxie.

He fired off a quick call to the military police to report the incident, then turned and jogged through the trees, eager to meet the woman who’d fended off a man almost twice her size.

Although he was pretty sure he already knew her.

“I said I’m fine.” The woman’s shout bounced off the trees. If she was still in fight mode, she might be giving Travis a hard time.

Despite the seriousness of what he’d witnessed, Lucas couldn’t help but grin as he scrambled over a tree trunk. If a woman came at Travis, he wouldn’t fight her. And the beating a woman who could fight like this one would give him would be worth quite a bit of laughter at his buddy’s expense if any of the guys in the battalion ever found out about it.

Sure enough, when Lucas broke through the trees to the trail, Travis was standing about ten feet from the woman, both hands in the air. “I promise we’re the good guys.”

“Then stand down and prove it.” Her back was to Lucas, but he’d know her anywhere. Her chin-length dark hair was held back in a headband, and the way she’d planted her hands on her hips was a familiar stance whenever she wanted to assert authority.

“Kristin?”

Kristin James whipped around like she was ready to fight again, but her posture sagged when she recognized him. Those eyes, so blue they were shocking under her dark hair, caught his.

They never failed to stop him dead whenever he saw them. Lucas had moved in across the street from her in Haymount two months ago, after his last deployment ended. Unable to live on base because of his rank, he’d been thrilled to find the older two-bedroom rental off Bragg Boulevard. The place needed a little work, but it kept him busy. After Kristin kicked his rear in a half marathon the week after he moved in, they’d started running together in the mornings.

Kristin appeared more than a little relieved. “The cavalry. What are you doing here? And who’s this guy?” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at Travis, who acted like he’d walked into the middle of an absurd comedy.

Lucas couldn’t blame him. There was something seriously strange about a woman who could face what Kristin had and then act like this meeting was a friendly encounter on her morning run. Must be a coping mechanism.

If it helped her to play this game, he would, too, at least until the police arrived and took over. “My buddy Travis. We were getting a run in before the duty day starts.” The whole encounter felt stilted. He couldn’t do it. After seeing the way she’d been shoved into a tree, he couldn’t pretend life was sunshine and roses, even if that was her way of dealing. He dropped the charade and edged toward her, heel sinking in loose dirt on the edge of the trail. “Are you okay? He got a pretty good shot in before—”

“I’m fine.” She bit the words into two bitter halves. Shaking her head like a mosquito was buzzing her, Kristin inhaled and her face settled into some weird, unnatural calm. “If you two are done playing the hero types, I’m going to finish my run. I’ve got three personal training clients today. I’ll see you later.” She started to move past Lucas with a nonchalance that couldn’t possibly be real, as though some stranger hadn’t thrown her around like a rag doll. The rough treatment was bound to hurt, but he’d noticed before the way Kristin hid behind a strong facade. This might be taking strength a little too far.

Lucas blocked her path, arms crossed over his chest. His next words might make her throw a few blows his way. She was a take-charge woman, always calling the shots when they trained together. She wasn’t going to like him taking the lead. “You can’t pretend nothing happened. You need to get checked out, make sure you aren’t hurt, file a report. The police are on the way.”

Sure enough, everything about her hardened, from her expression to her posture. “I’m fine. It was bound to happen sooner or later with me running alone out here. As for the police, shouldn’t that have been my decision?” Kristin tried to push past him.

Lucas refused to budge. “You can take care of yourself. Got it. What about the next woman he targets? He left his mountain bike behind, and there are bound to be fingerprints. Don’t you want the cops to find him before he tries again on a woman who can’t shove him into a world of hurt?”

“He won’t target—” Kristin turned her head and stared into the pine trees weaving gently in the wind. Finally, she sighed. “Fine. I’ll wait in the parking lot.” Without looking at either Lucas or Travis, she jogged away with only the slightest hitch to indicate she suffered any pain.

His instincts said she was hiding something. Lucas started to go after her but stopped. They might have formed a friendship, but it wasn’t strong enough to force her to let him in. He’d wait until she put some distance between them then follow to make sure her attacker didn’t swing around to try again.

Travis whistled low behind him. “We could’ve used that kind of grit in the platoon on this last deployment. She’s got serious cool under fire.”

Lucas kept his back to his buddy as he started a slow jog after Kristin, keeping her in sight. Sure, she was handling this well right now, but what would happen later?

And what was she not telling him?