Shelter Mountain (Virgin River #2)

Shelter Mountain (Virgin River #2) Page 50

Author: Robyn Carr

She lifted her eyebrows. “I’m not about to be tricked by a flirtatious man.”

He shrugged. “If you are, it will be kept in confidence, Brie,” he said, smiling at her.

“This is a beautiful place,” she said. “Why are there no fishermen?”

“It’s too shallow here for the bigger fish. This is where the young people come to be alone,” he said. “Down here where the grass is soft, the trees tall, and there are a few large boulders to hide behind. The river whispers past them while they whisper to each other. That old rock you’re leaning against—it has seen some delicious things.”

“The most delicious thing it’s going to see today is Preacher’s lunch,” she said, but she smiled when she said it.

“Thank God,” he said, teasing. “I admit, I was pretty worried. I wondered—if I gave you wine and music and you began to seduce me, how would I—”

“Get out of it?” she asked, amused.

“Not exactly, mija.” He grinned. “How would I keep Jack from killing me.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Mike, it’s not personal, but Jack isn’t in charge of what I do. He thinks he is. But he’s not.”

“Big brothers,” Mike said. “Very annoying people…” Then he sobered and said, “I am sorry about the divorce, Brie. And the trial. I don’t know many of the details, but Jack said it was a terrible experience for you.”

“Worse than terrible,” she said. She pulled her hair out of the collar of his jacket and shook it down her back, looking upward. He found himself hoping a few strands would remain when he reclaimed it. “There are a lot of scary people out there to put away, some worse than others. It was a hard one to lose…one of the biggest trials of my career—a serial rapist—and I lost. He walked, and he’s guilty as hell. That’s not going to happen to me again.”

“What went wrong?”

“My witnesses, my victims ran like rabbits. I can’t prove it, but I suspect he threatened them. If I ever get another crack at him, I’m going to put him away for life. But that kind of criminal just pulls a territorial. He’s going to get out of town—it’s what they do.”

“It took a lot of strength to take that on,” he said in admiration. “You’re amazing.” He stood up and put out his hand to her. “You’re welcome to come back in a little while and break my heart, mija,” he said. “But right now, let’s go back to town. Let’s grab a cup of coffee and give the lovers another hour together.”

“Breaking a few hearts interests me,” she said, putting her hand in his to stand. But when they were both standing, she didn’t pull her hand away.

He should have let go and stooped to gather up their blanket, but he didn’t want to release her hand, small and soft but strong in his. He smiled at her. “I think the last time I had this feeling come over me when a girl held my hand, I was thirteen. You’ll be good at it, I think. Breaking hearts.” Still, she didn’t pull away, didn’t break the spell. It was he who finally let go, stooping to close up their basket, pick up the blanket. He handed her the folded blanket. “Thank you for today, Brie.”

“It was a nice day,” she said, her smile genuine. “You didn’t seem to have any trouble finding the right word.”

And, Mike thought, there are no words for what I’m starting to feel….

Paige walked out the bar’s back door with a plastic garbage bag in her hand, tied off tightly so as to not let a whiff of garbage escape to tempt the wildlife. She went across the wide dirt yard where she, John, Jack and often Rick liked to park their vehicles. The Dumpster sat under a big old tree and was used by everyone on the street, not just the bar. She lifted the heavy lid, but before she could toss the bag in, her wrist was grabbed in a vicelike grip and she was pulled around to the side, out of sight of the bar or the street. The garbage bag dropped to the ground and she felt something hard and cold under chin. She gasped, staring into the lethal eyes of her ex-husband, the business end of a rifle lifting her chin.

“You made this easy,” Wes Lassiter said, his voice low and dangerous. “I thought I’d have to go in after you. We have two choices. You can come with me right now, nice and quiet, or we can walk back in through that door, do a little shooting in the right places, and get my son.”

“Wes,” she whispered. “God. No.”

“You did this to me, Paige. You could always find a way to provoke me, to make me crazy. You sent me to fucking prison!”

“Please,” she begged softly. “Anything…”

“Go ahead, Paige. Try me. It’s just you, right now. Or the three of us, and him out of the picture.”

She blinked once, tears squeezing out of her eyes and running down her cheeks. Instead of praying John would hear and come, she prayed he wouldn’t. If it was just her, Christopher would be all right. John would never let anything happen to him, would raise him right. She let herself be led to an old truck that sat behind the Dumpster. He pushed her in through the driver’s door, slipping in next to her.

“Wes,” she said, her voice shaking, tears running down her cheeks. “You’re just going to make this so much worse. Not just for me, but for you.”

He turned to look at her, his eyes narrowed, but even so she could see that his pupils were pinpoints. He was high. He laughed cruelly. “I don’t think so, Paige,” he said. “I’m finally going to get out of this mess.” He started the truck, cut a U-turn behind the Dumpster and drove in the opposite direction of the bar rather than past it. Paige strained, but didn’t see a single person on the street, no one on their porches. And no one saw her as far as she could tell.

She knew better than to try to reason with him. This surpassed any nightmare of her life. She knew that John wouldn’t let very much time pass before looking out the kitchen’s back door to see that bag of trash lying there, abandoned. She made up her mind—she would throw herself from the truck and if she survived it, she’d run. But not until they were farther away from town. Not until John had time to see something was terribly wrong and could protect himself and Christopher.

Wes didn’t speak. The rifle lay across his lap and he sat forward in the truck, gripping the steering wheel. That tense jaw and the narrowed eyes that she remembered too well bore down on the road as they trundled along. The shocks on the truck were bad, the seat hard, bouncing her around. They were driving down the mountain, heading in the direction of Highway 101, which could take them to any of the local cities where they bought supplies—Garberville, Fortuna or Eureka. Or even as far south as L.A. if he kept going. They only passed a few vehicles, and none that she recognized.

After ten minutes of a silent drive, he exited at Alderpoint and went back up the mountain in the direction of Virgin River. This road could take them not through Virgin River, but around it. At least she knew roughly where she was. In a sudden and desperate move, she grabbed at the handle on the door and furiously tried to open it. She looked around for a lock, pushing on the door at the same time, but it wouldn’t give. She popped the little button on the door next to the window—up and down, up and down, moving the handle, pushing. Nothing.

Her upper arm was gripped hard and she turned her watering, terrified eyes toward Wes. He scowled blackly, then his frown dissolved into mean grin. “Jammed, Paige. How stupid do you think I am?”

She swallowed hard and asked, “Do you plan to leave our son without a mother?”

“Absolutely,” he said with terrifying calm. “But not until I’m sure I’m leaving him without a potential stepfather.”

“God,” she whispered weakly. “Why, Wes? John hasn’t done anything to you!”

“No?” he asked. “Only took my family away from me. Got my family to turn against me.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, that’s not what happened, Wes. I ran from you.”

“Sure you did, Paige. And if it wasn’t for that guy, you’d still be running. Running and running, and I would find you and find you. But what you did—ending it forever and sending me to fucking prison, that was his doing. We both know you don’t have the guts for that.” He turned his head toward her and grinned meanly. “He’ll come after you, you know he will.”

I’m bait, she thought. Nothing but bait.

“I wouldn’t mind a piece of that other one, either,” he said. “Sheridan.”

Something came over Paige. It seemed to rise within her from her core. You don’t have the guts for that…. The thought that this dangerous lunatic would ruthlessly, without conscience, hurt John and his own son sizzled inside her like boiling oil. Her fear slowly gave way to rage. “You’re going to burn in hell,” she whispered. But he couldn’t hear her above the noise of the old pickup.

When Brie and Mike walked into the bar it was deserted, but they could hear Preacher in the kitchen, and even muffled, his voice sounded riled up. Mike walked back to the kitchen to find him pacing with the phone in his hand, talking faster than Mike could ever remember; Preacher never said much, and when he did, it was measured and slow. Not so now. Before he could get a grasp of what Preacher was saying, he heard, “Mike’s back. Come on, then. Right now.”

Preacher hung up the phone and looked at Mike. “Something’s wrong. Something happened. Paige. She took out some trash and she’s gone. It’s lying out there on the ground by the Dumpster and she didn’t come back in. I’ve got Chris sleeping upstairs and can’t leave. I called Jack—he’s coming back to town.”

“Did you call Connie’s? Doc’s?”

“Yeah, she’s not there.”

“How long ago?” Mike asked.

“Fifteen minutes or less. I would’ve looked outside sooner, but I was rolling dough and thought maybe she’d slipped by me and just went to our room. I gotta go down the street, see if she’s around….”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll go, too,” Mike said. “Brie will stay here, stay with Chris.”

“It’s wrong,” Preacher said, shaking his head. “This is all wrong. She doesn’t do things like this. She always says where she’s going. She’s real, real careful.”

Mike and Brie connected eyes. Brie frowned. “Go check with the neighbors.” She slipped a hand inside her purse and pulled out a wallet. She opened it and withdrew a business card and lifted the phone off the hook. Preacher was out the back door, fast.

“What are you thinking?” Mike asked.

She leveled her steady gaze on him. “That it’s wrong, like he said. Go on, and hurry back. Maybe you can get one of the neighbors to help you knock on doors. I’ll make a couple of calls. See if I can learn anything.”

Mike went the other direction, back to his SUV. He unlocked the glove box and pulled out his revolver, just to be ready. He hooked it on his belt and caught up with Preacher down the street. By the time they got down to Joy’s house and the Carpenters’, they had two women who were willing to do the door-knocking so they could go back to the bar. “Be sure to ask, everywhere you go, if any strange vehicles have been seen, if any unusual noises were heard,” Mike instructed.

Just as they returned, Jack was getting out of his truck followed by Mel with the baby bundled against her. Rick pulled up behind the bar, reporting to work after school. They all walked in together to find Brie standing behind the bar, a very unhappy look on her face. “Okay,” she said. “The A.D.A. is contacting the sheriff and local police in the larger towns. Someone is going to try to locate Lassiter in L.A., see if he can be found. I’ve reported Paige missing. Maybe this can be cleared up with a few phone calls. Meanwhile, let’s see if we can find her around here.”