found her.
“Father, please let me make it. For the children.” Her words evaporated in the swirling storm that was picking up in intensity.
She had to reach the rocks. Just had to, before they tracked her down and fired a bullet in her heart as they’d done to Todd.
* * *
Cole Justice pushed away hair plastered against his forehead and looked over the pounding surf. A big storm was on its way in from the Pacific, and he’d climbed a large boulder—the highest point on the beach—to watch. Foolhardy move, he was sure. The rocks were slippery and the night dark, but he liked it best in the dark these days. Away from the concerned stares of his family. Away from the constant self-recriminations.
As he stared at the angry sea, the clouds parted and the moon highlighted the beach. He saw someone moving in the hazy mist. Odd. He’d figured he was the only one foolish enough to brave the spitting rain in a winter storm on the Oregon coast.
The tall figure raced along the water’s edge, glancing back every so often as if someone was in pursuit. The “danger” instincts, honed during his second tour of duty in Iraq, sprang into full alert and he felt apprehensive, as if a threat waited in the wings to take him down.
He tried to squelch it, but there it was, burning in his gut. He’d been home for two years now and it still lingered.
Always on alert. Always watchful. Always uneasy.
He checked to make sure his weapon was still tucked in the back of his jeans and ready if he needed it. Even if he wasn’t a private investigator, he was a former deputy marshal and like most former law enforcement officers, he carried all the time. Right now, he was glad he did. Something wasn’t right about the figure moving closer.
Long, lithe, agile. A woman? Out here tonight?
He lifted his hand against the driving rain and stared. Yeah, it was a woman. She raced toward him with graceful strides, but he lost sight of her at the base of his rocky fortress jutting into the water. Though he didn’t have a visual on her, his sniper training taught him to be still and pay attention. The sixth sense warned him that she was climbing up the face toward him.
Man, was she in for a surprise when she found him up here.
Question was, when did he let her know of his presence? If he called out to her now she could lose her focus and fall. If he waited until she got to the top and she startled backward, the fall would be fatal.
Her head popped over the rock and even in the rain, he could see her concentration. He needed to wait before saying anything.
She pulled up and fell on her stomach, dragging in huge gulps of air.
“Not a good night for a run,” he said as calmly as he could, bracing his legs against the rocks should she decide to attack and dislodge him from his perch.
She rolled and came to her knees, her arms outstretched in a defensive posture.
“Relax,” he added. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
She didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
“You can trust me,” he said from his position on the ledge. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m renting a house up the beach, and I came out to watch the storm.”
She still didn’t back away, but she glanced to her right before flattening herself on the rock again. He looked down the beach in the direction she’d checked and spotted two bulky figures heading their way. She was being chased. And now she’d put him in danger, too.
He slowly eased to his knees, keeping his head low and sliding onto the rock next to her. She turned her head and locked eyes with him.
“What’re you doing?” she hissed.
“I was a sitting duck on that ledge,” he whispered back. With no more than twelve inches between them, he could finally get a good look at her face. Fine boned. High cheeks and forehead. Went well with the lithe figure he saw running. And despite her mad dash down the beach, a hint of her sweet perfume lingered. So sweet he almost forgot that two men were coming after her. Almost.
“Care to fill me in on what’s going on here?” he asked.
She lay motionless for a moment before she took in a deep breath. “No time. The men after me are killers.”
“Are they trying to kill you?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure.” She sounded so sad that it broke his heart. Something he didn’t think it was capable of doing anymore. “I overheard them talking about illegal activities they’re involved in. Now I think they want to kill me so I can’t tell anyone what I heard.”
Male voices mixed with the wind. They were coming closer. He held his finger to his lips but took the time to search her face for any duplicity. All he saw besides large eyes ringed with long lashes was fear. Raw and fresh. Even if she wasn’t telling him the truth about what had happened, it was clear she was afraid of these men.
“I don’t see anyone, Gibson,” a deep voice rumbled from below. “We don’t even know if the person came down to the beach. It’s freaking cold out here, and we should call it quits.”
“Quit being such a baby.” The second man’s voice was higher, more nasal.
The woman started shivering, and her lips quivered. Cole wore a slicker over a thick parka, but her lightweight jacket was plastered against her body. He wanted to draw her against him for warmth, but he couldn’t risk her decking him and signaling their location to the men below.
“Maybe Saunders was wrong and no one heard us.”
“You want to be the one to tell him that?” That high voice went even higher.
The other guy snorted. “Not if I want to live.”
“That’s what I figured. C’mon. We’ll keep going. If we don’t find someone in thirty minutes we’ll quit.”
Cole would give the men time to move out of hearing distance and then he’d ask her for details to see how he could be of assistance.
She started moving as if she intended to climb over him and down to the beach.
“Not yet.” Cole laid a restraining hand on her back. “We’ll wait until they’ve put some distance between us.”
“We?” Her forehead furrowed and her whole body shook from the cold.
“You need help, and I can provide it.”
“I don’t even know you.” It took a strong woman to be this chilled and tired and refuse help. Or a foolish one.
“Then let’s remedy that.” He turned on his side and offered his hand. “Cole Justice. Former U.S. Marshal and Oregon National Guard,” he said, hoping she’d realize he was one of the good guys.
She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.
“Usually this is when you shake hands and give me your name.” He smiled to try to ease her obvious concern, but it didn’t work. She kept peering at him. “Okay. So you don’t want me to know who you are. Can you at least give me a first name?”
“Alyssa,” she said between tremors.
A perfectly elegant name for a woman who he figured would live up to it, if she was dry and not lying on a slimy rock with the winds and rain from the Pacific Ocean pummeling her body.
“Do you have somewhere safe to go?” he asked.
“No.”
“We can go to my house until you figure out what to do.”
“Not hardly.”
“Look, I’m the last guy who’d tell a woman to go home with a strange man, but I really am one of the good guys. Plus my sister is staying with me so we won’t be alone.” He could see she was starting