Dead Running Page 16

  Jesse wrapped his arm around me, glared at Damon, and said, “Maybe I can save you from that desperate step.”

  I grinned. “Maybe you could . . . if I liked you.”

  The olive skin of his cheek crinkled. “Maybe we can remedy that problem as well.”

  I imagined all the ways he could do that and melted into his side.

  “Cassie!” Damon’s hand grabbed my wrist, wrenching me back to reality. “You aren’t going anywhere with him.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You’ve lost all rights to input in my life.”

  Damon’s face turned a brilliant shade of red. His glower at Jesse terrified me. Jesse ignored him and turned me away. “Can I give you a ride home?”

  I looked at Tasha. She pumped her head with an awed smile. “Go,” she said.

  Jesse led me to his Denali. Amazingly, Damon’s betrayal didn’t sting with Jesse’s arm around my waist.

  Jesse and I chatted about running, Raquel’s health, and anything else but the awkward confrontation outside Sabor. I loved that he didn’t feel the need to pry into my emotional upheaval. He helped me out of the Denali and walked me up the sidewalk. I turned to him before we reached the front porch.

  “How did you know to rescue me again?” I asked.

  He studied the rose bushes. “I keep pretty close tabs on you, Cassidy.”

  I waited until he met my eyes. “You’re stalking me or something, then you kiss me the other day, and now I’ll never be the same again.” I tapped my fingers on my arm. “Is it some big surprise I can’t let myself like you?” Because I’m dying to be near you and you don’t seem to reciprocate that feeling, luckily I caught myself from vocalizing the last sentence.

  Jesse licked his lips. “I keep hoping that will change.” He slowly crossed the inches separating us and lifted his hand to my cheek. My entire body quivered as his rough fingers caressed my flesh. Before I could sort out my jumbled thoughts, he lowered his head and did the branding thing with his lips again. This time it was much worse. He increased the pressure on my lips until my head swam.

  I grabbed Jesse’s shirt and yanked him closer, reassuring myself that he wouldn’t slip away. After several wonderful minutes, he did the unthinkablepulling away and gently loosening my grip. Holding onto my hands, he whispered, “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Why?” I couldn’t think of any good reason we weren’t doing it this instant.

  “I’m here to protect you, Cassidy, not become involved with you.”

  I blinked several times but the picture was still the same. Jesse writing me off again, but this time he had some sort of reason. “Protect me? Who are you?”

  Jesse grinned and tenderly kissed me again. “I’m Dr. Tattoo,” he whispered against my lips. “I’m the man who’s going to make sure they don’t hurt you.”

  They? Was he talking about Muscle Man and Greasy Beanpole or somebody else? I wrapped my arms around his back and held on. “Who?”

  He trailed a hand down my face. “You’re going to have to trust me.”

  “I’ll trust you when you tell me what’s really going on here, kiss me without saying you shouldn’t have, and take me on a real date.”

  Jesse’s low chuckle rolled over me. He disengaged my arms, gave me one more mouth-watering kiss, and backed away. “Someday, Cassidy. Someday I won’t have to walk away.”

  With that he winked, pivoted, and jogged to his SUV. I stood there staring after him, wondering who he was and why I was so smitten by him.

  * * *

  I cruised through the first eight miles of my twenty-miler. When I wasn’t checking for Muscle Man my mind wandered back to Jesse’s kiss last night. I sighed like a love-sick teenager. If only I could see him more, get to know the real Jesse.

  But what about Damon? I forced myself to remember Elizabeth clinging to him. His tender whisper made me cringe, I had no idea, Cassie. I thought you were just playing with me.

  Turning up the volume on my iPod I tried to blast Jesse and Damon from my brain. Running was too conducive to thinking. I was on mile fourteen and feeling pretty good when I realized I hadn’t eaten. Slowing to a walk I jerked open my fanny pack and grabbed a Gu. I gagged as vanilla-flavored sludge stuttered down my throat. I swigged a gulp of water and started running again. Minutes later, I saw two bikes heading my direction. I squinted. It couldn’t be. A hundred yards away and Tasha screamed, “It’s us, baby.”

  Love leapt from my heart. I threw my hands in the air with pinkies and thumbs extended. “You two rock.”

  “Couldn’t leave you all alone,” Raquel said.

  They circled around on their bikes and slowed to match my pace.

  “How’d you find me?” I wished I could stop running and hug them.

  “You told me your route,” Raquel said with a grin. She looked awkward on her bike, her huge abdomen protruding close to the handle bars. “Remember?”

  “My brain’s so fried I can’t remember why I’m even out here.” Safety and gratitude almost overwhelmed me. My friends were here. I had no reason to worry about Muscle Man or if I would finish the run.

  Tasha laughed. “You’re doing great. We thought we’d catch you down on The Island.” She gestured to Utah State University’s football stadium east of us. “You’re almost to fourteenth north.”

  I calculated quickly in my head. “I’ve only got a little over five miles left.”

  Raquel nodded. “Your stride looks good. How ya feeling?”

  “Great.” I didn’t tell her I’d forgotten to eat anything until a few minutes ago. Especially after she’d lectured me about keeping the calories coming so I didn’t hit the wall.

  “You’ve got a really good pace right now. You’re sure you aren’t going too fast?” Raquel asked.

  I evaluated. My legs rotated faster than they probably should have, but at this pace I could finish twenty-six miles faster than three-thirty-five. My first really long run and I was on track to qualify for Boston. The thought propelled me faster still. “I’m great,” I yelled.

  “We’ll match your pace so don’t worry if you need to slow down,” Raquel said.

  “Whatever,” Tasha said. “Keep kicking it, sister.” She paused for half a breath. “What happened with Jesse?”

  I grinned, remembering the feel of his lips. “Good stuff.”

  “He is . . .” Tasha whistled. “Gorgeous in an extremely manly sort of way. Did he show you anymore tattoos?”

  I arched an eyebrow, might as well leave her wondering.

  “You saw Jesse again?” Raquel asked. “What about Damon?”

  “Damon’s out,” Tasha informed her.

  I nodded my agreement. Damon was definitely out.

  Raquel and Tasha peppered me with questions about Jesse and Damon, but all the talking started wearing on my oxygen supply. Good friends that they were, they kept a conversation going that required minimal input from me. I wished I could express to them how much I appreciated it. The miles flew by.

  I could see Sky View High when my legs suddenly felt so heavy I could hardly lift them. Out of sheer habit, I kept running. The bright morning sun dimmed. Raquel and Tasha’s voices came from a tunnel. I wanted to take a drink of water, but I didn’t have the energy to unfasten my water bottle from my fanny pack.

  I lagged behind my friends. They kept talking, oblivious to my darkened state. It was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other. My entire being focused on rotating through each step, but the feeling of despair overwhelmed me.

  I watched Raquel and Tasha move farther away from me. I wanted to call out. I needed them. I couldn’t find the oxygen to beg for help.

  A hand on my back jerked me from my confusion.

  “It’s okay. You can do it, Cassie.”

  “Damon?” I managed.

  “You’re hitting a wall. It sucks, but you have to push through it. Come on, sweetie. Keep running. I’ll stay with you.”

  I listened to him coaxing me along, almost forge
tting I’d been furious with him last night. Ignoring the part of me that said he had no right to call me sweetie, I focused on the ground and continued my labored gait. One step. The next step. I felt my water bottle next to my mouth.

  “Drink this. It’ll help.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” Tasha’s voice came to me through the haze.

  I looked up and saw the biker duo peddling up to us and jumping off their bikes.

  “She’s hitting the wall,” Raquel said.

  Damon and I kept running. “She’s okay,” Damon said. “I’ll stay with her.”

  Tasha and Raquel rode behind us and talked in hushed voices.

  Damon talked and talked. I hardly heard what he said, but the one thing I remember is he didn’t apologize for last night. Which I really think would’ve helped. The haze lifted and some strength came back to my legs, though they still felt weak.

  Finally, I could see my house. Damon put pressure on my arm. “Let’s walk the last little bit. You doing okay?”

  Slowing to a walk was heaven. “I may just survive,” I said.

  Damon chuckled.

  I looked askance at him and muttered, “Thanks.”

  “Anything for you,” he said.

  He didn’t deserve a response.

  Tasha and Raquel approached on their bikes. “I just called Nana,” Tasha said. “She’s got breakfast ready for us.”

  Damon nodded. “Yes. Get some food in her. That will help.” He waved them on. “You two go ahead. I’ll bring her in.”

  “You okay, Cassie?” Raquel asked.

  “Yeah. I’m good. Thanks for riding with me.”

  “Sorry. We were talking. We didn’t realize . . .”

  I shook my head. “You guys were awesome. Don’t worry about me.”

  They rode ahead and I suddenly felt awkward with Damon. I wanted to yell at him. Ask him what he was really doing with Elizabeth last night. I didn’t believe the, “she needs training tips,” excuse one bit. I needed to know why he didn’t chase after me when I left with Jesse, but the fact was I hadn’t wanted him to. That fact made me sad as I focused on his blue eyes.

  “Did you shoot your Gu’s while you ran?” Damon asked.

  “One.” Who cared about Gu’s?

  “When?”

  “Mile fourteen.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “There’s our problem.”

  Our? We stopped on Nana’s front lawn. “Do you want to come in for breakfast?” Where did that come from? I was mad at him. Hurt. Embarrassed. Jaded. And wishing Jesse was the one who’d found me this morning. Who wanted Damon to come to breakfast?

  “Not with the glares Tasha was giving me.”

  I hadn’t noticed. Good friend that Tasha. “You probably deserve some glares,” I muttered.

  “Yeah. I probably do.” He yanked off his baseball cap. “Could I call you later? Maybe we could go to dinner and . . . talk?”

  “Elizabeth’s not available tonight?” I asked.

  “Come on, Cassie, that’s not fair.”

  “You’re right. Thanks for helping me through the wall.” Turning, I marched up to Nana’s front porch, humiliated he’d seen me like that and once again relieved that he didn’t chase after me.

  * * *

  Nathan stared out the window of the rental car. He’d cautiously followed Cassidy on her run, grateful she was almost within the safety of Nana’s home again. After several days of meetings in Salt Lake with the FBI, he’d made it to Cache Valley late last night and first thing this morning paid for a state-of-the-art security system to be installed while Cassidy was out on her run. Of course his mother nagged him about spending money. “We’re fine,” Nana insisted. “Nobody’s gonna hurt our girl when I’m in this house. If you’re gonna spend money on me put in some granite countertops or a dishwasher that actually works.”

  Nathan shook his head. Nana would never change. She had plenty of money, but still lived in this old house and donated most of her money to Nathan’s charities.

  Nathan watched Cassie lumber up the stairs and the redheaded boy walk dejectedly to his car. He couldn’t help but chuckle. Good girl. She still knew how to put them in their place. He wrote down the boy’s license plate number. It all looked innocent enough, but this was his daughter and he would make sure she was safe.

  He wished he could run up the stairs after her. But he didn’t dare. He knew the men who had accosted him in Mexico were either here watching for him or Clive Ramirez and Nick Panetti would send someone else to finish the job. Ramirez didn’t tolerate sloppy work. If the men who’d failed to kill Nathan hadn’t been disposed of, they probably had even more reason to get the job done right.

  Nathan didn’t know how long he had to play this cat and mouse game, but he had to keep Cassidy safe. Maybe with the FBI’s help, he could flush out Ramirez’s men before they found him. This marathon training wasn’t helping his nerves, but he couldn’t ask her to stop. From what Nana had said, this was the first time Cassidy had been passionate about anything since her mother’s death.

  Nathan slowly pulled away from the home he was raised in. In an ideal world, he’d rush inside and hug his daughter then share a hearty breakfast with those he loved. He frowned. Nothing was ideal about his life right now, but Cassidy was safe. That was something to be grateful for.

  Week Eleven

  I now considered a ten-miler an “easy run”. As I flew over the pavement of Smithfield, I fingered the pepper spray in my shorts pocket and wondered why I hadn’t heard from my father, Jesse, or Damon. But it was a glorious sixty degrees, the sunrise over the Wasatch Mountains was a puffball of red and orange, and all this running was making me feel great. I could worry after my run.

  A black Chevy Tahoe pulled alongside me, idling at my same speed. Ice slid into my stomach. Bile rose up my throat. Warmth exploded through me as my heartbeat escalated and my legs took off through the field to the west. The only beacons of safety were some homes a hundred yards through this field. Someone there would have to protect me. Muscle Man and Greasy Beanpole were not capturing me again.

  “Cassie! It’s me. Stop.”

  I froze at the call from the man in the vehicle. I whirled to face him. “Daddy,” I whispered.

  My body lurched in his direction. My legs gave out. I collapsed onto the rutted field. My father jumped out of the driver’s side door. He rushed to me and lifted me off the ground. I threw my arms around his neck and clung to him like a little girl waking up from a nightmare. “Dad?”

  “Oh, Cassie, my girl, my girl.” He kissed my cheek. His tears wet my face. We clung to each other. Cradling me against his side, he asked, “Are you injured? We need to get out of here before somebody sees us.”

  “Injured?” I asked.

  “You fell.”

  I laughed, swiping at my tear-covered cheeks. “I couldn’t believe it was you. Nana told me everything, but . . . it’s just so hard to really believe ityou’re alive. You’re here.” My dad was really okay. Seeing him made it all real.

  “I am.” He winced. “Cassie, I’m sorry we had to lie to you. I was trying to keep you safe and I was dealing with losing your mother.”

  I wished he hadn’t brought it up. Feeling like he couldn’t trust me was hard. “I’m . . . trying to understand.” I found myself pulling away from him.

  Dad kept his hand on my arm as if he couldn’t stand to be disconnected from me. “We were protecting you, Cassie. You didn’t need the stress . . .” He exhaled, not finishing his thought.

  I shook my head. “Jared and Nana both knew. Didn’t you think I could keep a secret?”

  Dad grabbed me around the waist and ushered me into his side. “Sorry, babe, this isn’t the time. We’ve got to go.”

  I looked up to see a large vehicle approaching from the north. Dad pulled me into a full sprint. We reached the Tahoe. He shoved me inside then scrambled over me and into the driver’s seat.

  “Dad, calm down. It’s just a va . . .” The words died
in my throat. A cargo van. I could clearly see the driver and the man in the passenger seat. “Muscle Man,” I whispered, fear clogging my throat.

  Dad jerked the key and gunned the engine. We flew past the van. Muscle Man’s eyes locked onto mine as we passed. I glared right back. Dirty monster had no right to kill my mother.

  Greasy Beanpole flipped the van around. The lumbering buggy pursued us like a sports car.

  “Hang on,” Dad yelled, pressing the accelerator to the floor.

  After several attempts, my trembling fingers secured my seatbelt.

  Dad zoomed through the neighborhoods surrounding the golf course. The van caught us. I spun around in my seat, peeking above the headrest to see Muscle Man’s ugly face. He leered at us. Greasy Beanpole gripped the steering wheel with both hands, leaning forward as if intent on running our sport utility over.

  Dad darted down the golf course hill. The van couldn’t manipulate the corners as well. We turned onto the road leading up Smithfield Canyon. “Why are we going up a canyon?” I asked. “Drive to the police station.”

  Dad’s hazel eyes twinkled. He tossed me his phone. “And let them disappear? We’re going to trap them.”

  “Trap them or us?”

  He careened around a corner. “Call the police. Once we get far enough up the canyon there will be no way out.”

  Yeah, and we’ll be at Muscle Man’s mercy.

  I followed his instructions, begging Detectives Shine and Fine to set up some sort of roadblock and send a load of officers up the canyon as well. They said they’d come and do their best to bring support. I wasn’t encouraged.

  Beautiful houses and greenery blurred as we sped up the windy road. I kept watch behind. “I can’t see them.”

  Then the road would straighten out and I could almost feel Muscle Man capturing us. “There they are,” I screamed, clutching the armrest.

  Dad nodded each time I reported, his focus on the road. We raced the length of a decent straightaway. The van didn’t appear behind us. We maneuvered a few more tight turns and then Dad squealed onto a dirt road overgrown with trees, shrubs, and wild flowers. He parked behind a grouping of trees. I watched intently out my window. Seconds later, the van darted past us.