Fatal Vendetta

“Get up.” His words were filled with venom.

She tried to push herself to her feet, but movement made her torso hurt. She must have broken or bruised a rib when he slammed her against the car. Each breath caused a stab of pain.

He grabbed her collar and pulled her to her feet, pressing his mouth close to her ear. “Don’t even think of trying to escape.” Violence undergirded each word.

Fear was like a thousand knives stabbing her vital organs. She couldn’t get a deep breath. The same two words pounded over and over in her head.

Buy time. Buy time.

She could barely speak. “Please, I want to remember you. Have we met?”

He hesitated before pushing her. “Quit stalling.”

His voice carried a nuance of emotion she hadn’t heard before. She’d touched a nerve.

She purged her voice of the terror that gripped her. “Clearly, I was important to you. We have met.” She managed a soft coyness in her tone.

“Stop. It.” He spat the words out, but loosened his grip on her collar.

She detected weakness in his voice. She was getting to him.

She dared a look out on the dark horizon. Help should have arrived by now. Her stomach clenched. What if her kidnapper had only imagined he was being pursued? She hadn’t seen any car lights.

Maybe it was up to her to escape on her own. She squeezed her eyes shut. Think, Elizabeth. He’s stronger than you, but he’s not smarter.

“It would be nice if we could talk. If you would just tell me why I matter to you.” She chose her words carefully, struggling not to go into reporter mode. She wanted to know where this man knew her from, but the wrong sort of question might fuel his violence. Instead, she tried for an emotional connection to him.

His rough fingers rubbed against the vulnerable spot on her neck where he gripped her shirt collar.

His reaction was slow in coming as though he were processing what she had said. Did he realize she was manipulating him?

“Elizabeth Kramer, big-time reporter.” He expelled the words in a single breath as though he’d been punched in the stomach. “You’re just so smart, aren’t you?”

She kept her voice to a soft whisper, hoping that would persuade him. “Why can’t we talk? Can you tell me your first name?”

He tightened his grip on her neck. Panic shot through her like a bullet. She’d overplayed her hand.

“You should know who I am.” His words dripped with indignation.

“Really, why?” Talking to him didn’t seem to be helping, but she refused to let the fear win. She would get away no matter what it took. Her father had taught her how to defend herself.

While he was distracted by her question, she leaned against him and rammed her elbow into his stomach. He grunted. The grip on her neck loosened. She burst forward and angled to the side, wriggling her hands free from the wire. In the darkness, she could feel his hands on her, grasping, trying to get a hold.

Keep fighting.

She stumbled forward into the dark forest. He grabbed her shirt at the hem, yanked her back. She turned and smashed her flat palm against where she thought his face was. Skin smacked against skin.

She ran again, his footsteps at her heels. She could make out very little in the darkness. The roughness of the terrain told her she wasn’t on a road or trail. If she could get back to the car, maybe he’d left the keys in the ignition.

Her heart raged in her chest as she zigzagged, turning in a wide circle back to where they’d been. The sound of his footsteps dimmed. She ran faster.

The abandoned house came into view. She slowed her pace. No human noise reached her ears. The trees thinned, becoming more like bushes. She crouched lower.

She slipped out from behind a bush. Still bent over, she started toward where she remembered the car being. The landscape was nothing more than shadows.

She peered through the darkness, trying to discern objects. No car. She must have come around to the back of the house. A branch broke off to the side of her. Desperate to hide, she scrambled toward the house, slipped inside and pressed against a rough wooden wall. The drumming of her heart in her ear threatened to drown out all other sound.

She still couldn’t see the car through the window. It must be on the other side of the trees.

She crouched on the floor, working her way toward the door. Her eyes adjusted enough so she could make out the outline of an object on the floor. She crawled toward it, careful not to make the floorboards creak.

Her hand reached out, touching the cold metal of a chain. The air left her lungs with a whoosh as a chill struck the marrow of her bones. Groping in the dark, she followed the chain to a set of manacles at the end. Her lungs compressed. The abduction had been planned. He was going to keep her as a prisoner here.

A foot padded on wood. She whirled around to see a hulking figure in the doorway.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Terror embedded deep into her muscles. She couldn’t move.

He pounded across the floor, grabbed her by the elbows and lifted her up.

“Don’t you dare try to get away from me.” Rage colored every word.

Spit hit her face. His anger gave her the will to fight. Even though her ribs hurt, she kicked and twisted her body. But it was no use. His arm didn’t budge from around her waist. A claw-like hand grabbed her hair, rendering her immobile.

Below her, the chain glistened in the moonlight.

“I want to know...what I did to you. I want to make it right.”

“Liar.” He tossed her to floor, the impact sending reverberations up her knees and agony through her ribs. He reached for the chain. She crawled on all fours to get away, but he grabbed for her. His grip on her ankle was like iron.

She could feel herself shutting down and the world going black as ten-year-old memories crashed in from all sides.

Oh, God, help me.

Adrenaline coursed through her like a raging river of fire. She was not going to be his prisoner. And she was not going to die out here. She clenched her teeth, flipped over and kicked with her free leg.

Bright lights shone suddenly through the broken glass of the window. A car was coming down the hill toward the house.

He let go of her ankle, grabbed her at the shoulders and pulled her close.

“Looks like the cavalry is here. But that doesn’t mean you’re safe. Just remember, the next time you go to a story, it might be me who created it to lure you there. You will never feel safe again.”

His words seemed to linger in the air even as his footsteps pounded across the floor. She sat stunned. A car engine started up outside.

Footsteps pounded toward her. Arms surrounded her and lifted her from the floor.

“It’s going to be all right, Elizabeth. I’m here. The police are on their way.” Zach’s voice reverberated softly in her ear.

She pressed close to his chest and thanked God Zach had found her.

THREE

Zachery placed the steaming cup of coffee in Elizabeth’s hand while the activity of the police station buzzed around them.

He pressed his hand against hers, making sure she had a grip on the cup. “Probably not the tastiest, but it will warm you up.”

Elizabeth stared straight ahead, not focusing on anything. His heart squeezed tight with empathy. This was not the same confident woman he enjoyed bantering with. He’d seen the same effect on soldiers. The violence she’d witnessed must have stripped her bare, left every emotion raw and exposed and turned her brain into shredded mush.

“Go ahead, have a sip. I put three sugars in it.” His hand still covered hers. He feared she would drop the coffee if he pulled away.

She drew the cup to her lips. He sat in the hard plastic chair beside her. He couldn’t leave her, not in the state she was in.

“It’s not too bad.” She stared down into the steaming liquid. “Thank you.” She spoke in a monotone.

He knew the thank-you was for more than the bad coffee. “My pleasure.” He glanced around at the officer assigned to her case, who typed away on his keyboard. “Busy night. I’m sure he’ll be able to take your statement soon.” When the cop glanced up from his keyboard, Zach offered him a raised eyebrow as if to say hurry up.

The night had been long enough already. Elizabeth had gone through a medical exam that revealed she had bruised ribs.

Another policeman walked by them, punching Zach in the shoulder as he passed.

She lifted her chin. “Do you know everyone in this town, Beck? You haven’t lived here that long.”

Her voice still lacked the old fight he’d gotten used to, but at least she was feeling well enough to take a shot at him.

“What can I say, people just gravitate toward this handsome mug of mine.” He rubbed his chin.

She shook her head. “Yeah, right, that must be it.” Her smile faded and she gazed back into her coffee cup.

The brief moment of humor passed, and a taut silence coiled around them. What had happened to her out there in that house? He knew more than he wanted to about the terror connected with being abducted.

Experience on a very personal level told him what she needed. “I’ll stay,” he said.

“What?”

“I’ll stay while you give your statement...if you want me to.” He didn’t want to seem forward. “Or I can call someone.”

“There’s no one to call. I have friends but...my father is really the only one I would want here. He died a few years ago,” she said. “I moved back here from Seattle, then he got sick and I took care of him at the end.”

“Sorry about your dad.” He was surprised to hear there was no one else important in her life, though. A beautiful, smart woman and no boyfriend to call? He mentally kicked himself. Why was he even entertaining that thought? The last thing on his radar was a girlfriend. “It’s settled, then. You’re stuck with me, Betsy.”

“Is that right?” She picked a piece of invisible lint off her jacket. “I guess this means I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said. And he meant that.

“That’s not the way I see it. I’ll find a way to repay you. I can’t give you some sort of scoop on a story because you always beat me to them already. But I’ll think of something.”

The police officer rose to his feet. “Miss Kramer. Sorry for the delay. I’m ready to take your statement now.”

She took in a sharp breath, and her back stiffened. It was clear she dreaded having to relive everything she’d just been through.

He wanted to wrap an arm around her, to calm her, but instead he pressed his shoulder against hers. “It’s going to be okay.”

The look she gave him was one of utter confusion, like she couldn’t process what he’d just said.

She rose from her chair and walked toward the officer’s desk. Zach stood behind her.

“Have they been able to find the man?” Her hand curled into a fist and her voice faltered.

“We’ve got units patrolling the woods. We’re dusting that house for prints along with the...” the officer cleared his throat “...the items that we found inside.”

Zach had seen the manacles and chains on the floor. At least he’d been able to keep her from being held prisoner.

Images of his own captivity infected his thoughts. After a brutal beating, he was thrown in a small room that smelled like urine. The room had no windows. Though he lived in constant fear, it was only after he was free that he learned the terrorist group had filmed the beheading of two other reporters and that he had been next in line to die.

If it hadn’t been for the dauntless work of his sister, his life could have ended, as well. The reality of how close he’d been to death brought him back to the God he’d loved as a teenager.

The officer looked up at Elizabeth. “Miss Kramer, are you ready to answer the questions?”

Zach watched as Elizabeth swayed backward. Fearing she might faint, he held out his hand to catch her. She righted herself and squared her shoulders.

She touched her fingers to her lips. When she spoke, it was in her reporter’s voice. “Clearly, it was premeditated and personal. The guy acted like I should know who he was.”

She needed to distance herself from the terror of the attack. He understood the coping mechanism.

“Let’s get started with the interview so we can catch this guy.” The officer stared at Zach.

“He has my permission to stay,” said Elizabeth. Warmth filled her eyes when she looked over at him.

Maintaining her reporter persona, she answered the officer’s questions. Zach watched her, her gaze never wavering, her voice like sharpened steel. He didn’t know her whole life’s story, but he admired her inner strength. She wasn’t allowing herself to falter, even if it meant pretending the abduction had happened to someone else.

When the interview was over, Zach turned to her. “I can take you home.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I’d appreciate it. I’m sure Dale took the van back to the news station. I’ll call him and let him know I’m okay when I get home.”

They walked down the long hallway that led to the outside, their shoes tapping on the concrete floor. He held the door open for her.

A male news reporter scurried over to them.

“Oh, great. Neil Thompson, my prime competition,” Elizabeth said under her breath.

Neil shoved the microphone toward Elizabeth. “So, Miss Kramer, you had quite an ordeal tonight.”

“Please, I don’t want to talk...” She looked like she would crumple to the pavement.

Neil persisted. “Have they caught the man who abducted you?”

His ire rising, Zach wrapped an arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders and guided her toward the parking lot.

Neil’s words pelted their backs. “How does it feel to be the story instead of covering it, Elizabeth?”

Zach felt an echo of his own life in the question. Maybe he could help Elizabeth get through this. “Don’t give him anything to feed off of. The story will die down in a couple of days if you don’t give them anything.”

She pressed close to him, seeking his protection. Neil traipsed after them with his cameraman in tow.

“I know the public has a short attention span. It’s just going to be a long couple of days.” Frustration colored her words.

Zach turned to face Neil, holding his palm toward the other reporter. “She really doesn’t want to talk right now.” Zach kept his voice level.

They were within a few feet of his car. He reached over to the passenger side door. Elizabeth slipped into the seat.

He was about to close the door when Neil bent down and leaned close to Elizabeth. “Did the events of tonight bring back what happened to you in college?”

Elizabeth’s face went completely white. “How...did you...find out about that?” Not giving him a chance to answer, she grabbed the door and slammed it.

Zach resisted the urge to push Neil. His hands curled into fists. “You need to leave right now.” He had no idea what events Neil was referencing, but the comment clearly had upset Elizabeth.

Neil put up his hand in a surrender gesture. “A story is a story.”

Despite his warm onscreen persona, Neil Thompson always struck Zach as being a little slimy. Now he seemed downright repellent. “Is that what it’s really about or are you just trying to humiliate your competition?”

Neil shook his head. “Just trying to do my job.”

“I doubt that.” He brushed past Neil, close enough that Neil had to take a step back. “Get out of my way and stay out of hers.”

Zach yanked open the driver’s-side door and got behind the wheel. Elizabeth still looked pale, and her mouth was drawn into a hard, flat line. She turned her face toward the window when he glanced over at her.

As he pulled out of the parking lot, he got a view of Neil and his cameraman, both with angry expressions. He was glad to see them growing smaller and farther away in the rearview mirror.

Elizabeth continued to stare out the window.

Whatever Neil had made a reference to, it had cut Elizabeth to the core. His heart ached for her. He liked Neil Thompson even less. Getting the story was one thing. Deliberately hurting someone was another thing entirely. “You don’t have to tell me what he was talking about. Let’s just get you home.”

* * *

Still burning from what Neil Thompson had brought up, Elizabeth’s hand trembled when she flipped through her keys to find the one for her house. As they pulled up to the curb, her home was a welcome sight. They got out of the car and made their way up the walk.

A familiar looking woman parked at the curb exited her car and bustled toward Elizabeth—Gwen Monroe from the Badger Chronicle. Elizabeth’s knees felt weak. The bombardment just kept coming. She really didn’t want to deal with this right now or at any time. She liked being the one doing the interview.

Zachery stepped between Elizabeth and the woman. “Gwen, she doesn’t want to talk to anyone.”

Gwen lifted her chin. “A well-known reporter gets kidnapped. That’s a story, Zach.”

After shoving the key in the lock, Elizabeth breathed a prayer of thanks for Zach. The man was her nemesis in so many ways. But he’d come through for her when she needed him most. In the days to come, she knew she would need all the friends she could get, especially if other reporters kept circling around.

She was still bothered that Neil Thompson had found out about her date rape. The case had never made it to trial, but the allegations had been covered by the college newspaper and her name had been leaked. Still, it wasn’t like it had been front page news. Neil didn’t strike her as the investigative reporter type either.

Zach’s voice held authority as he faced Gwen. “Find a different story. She’s not ready to make any kind of a statement.”

Gwen took several steps back.

Elizabeth pushed open the door and closed her eyes. “Stay,” she said to Zach. Her words held a desperation she hadn’t expected.

“What?”

“Stay until we’re sure there are no more reporters going to bother me.” Normally, she wouldn’t even be comfortable asking a man into her house. But Zach seemed...safe.

He met her gaze, and for the first time, she noticed that his eyes were more gray than blue.

“I can do that.” He nodded before glancing over his shoulder. “Gwen doesn’t give up easily.”

Elizabeth slipped inside her house, and he followed. She hit the light switch by the door. Nothing had changed in her living room, though it felt like an entirely different place. She was not the same person who had left here to cover the warehouse fire.

The warm tones of the living room that normally looked so cozy only made her feel more alone.

“How about I make you some tea?” Zach offered.

“Let me. It’s my kitchen.” She moved toward the counter.

He touched her arm just above the elbow. “No, you need to sit down. I’ll figure out where things are in the kitchen.”

Though his touch was gentle, his words held force. She didn’t have the energy to argue with him.

“Thanks for everything. Now I double owe you,” she said.

“It’s all part of my evil plan. Soon you will owe me the world.” He rubbed his hands together theatrically and laughed like a villain in a cartoon.

In spite of everything, he made her shake her head and smile. When she laughed, her ribs hurt, just a reminder that the bruising would take weeks to heal.

“There’s that beauty queen toothy grin we all adore, Betsy,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes, amazed at how easily he could pull her from a dark place with his humor. “Stop—it was one pageant and winning paid for journalism school.” She’d been only eighteen then. Small town girl headed to the big city, so full of hope. She slumped down on the couch and watched as he put a teakettle on and opened cupboards to find cups and tea.

She was grateful he hadn’t pressed for details about what happened in college. Craig Miller had never gone to jail. Her lawyer had believed her, but there hadn’t been enough evidence. The trauma of the attack had caused her to fall apart emotionally, which would have made her a bad witness. She understood why the case hadn’t gone to trial, but the fact that she’d never gotten closure made it hard to move on emotionally. Her trust toward men had been completely broken. She had decided not to date and put her energy into her work. “I do want to pay you back some way.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said.

“You seem to be old hat at fending off the press. Like you’ve been through it before.”

He opened a tea bag and placed it in a cup. “Do I?”

She caught the hitch in his voice, the way he froze for a nanosecond before opening the tea bag. He wasn’t telling her the whole story. She’d done enough interviews to pick up on the subtle clues and body language that he was hiding something. Fear skittered across her nerves. Her back stiffened. She hoped she hadn’t been foolish to let him in.

The kettle whistled, and he turned his back to her before she could read his expression. When he swung around again, it was as if he was wearing a mask. He poured the tea and brought the cup over to her, taking a seat in the chair across from her.

So they both had secrets. She took the steaming mug and raised it. “To the giver of hot beverages.”

She studied him over the top of her mug. She had a feeling that even if she probed a little more, Zach would not be forthcoming. His keen reporter instincts would clue him in that she was turning him into an interview subject. A Google search would probably be more productive.

“You’re not going to have any tea?”

“I’m the giver of hot beverages, not the drinker,” he said.

She took a sip, allowing the warm liquid to flow down her throat while the minty flavor lingered on her tongue. “Nothing like tea to soothe the rankled soul.”

He nodded. “I suppose.”

The reporter in her really wanted to know what he was hiding. She studied him long enough that he started to fidget. He burst up from his seat opposite her, turning his back to her and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“So have you ever had to fend off the press?” she finally asked.

He offered her a nervous smile. “Don’t go all journalist on me, Betsy. I thought we had a pretty good start on being friends.”

Friends? She hadn’t thought about that possibility.

He stared out the window. “Looks like Gwen is gone.”

His changing the subject told her she’d pushed a little too far. “I should be okay here alone.” The idea caused a new wave of fear to crash over her.

“You’ll be safe from the reporters, but...”

He seemed to understand her trauma in a way that others would not have been so sensitive to.

“Tell you what, why don’t you try to sleep,” he offered. “I’ll grab my laptop and get some work done.”

Zach seemed completely trustworthy, but trusting too easily was what had gotten her in trouble in college. “Really, you’ve done so much already.”

“It’s not that big a deal. I was only going to go home and sit with my laptop there.”

She did want him to stay. She wasn’t ready to face being in the house alone. “I don’t know if I could sleep, but maybe both of us could get some work done.”

“All right, then.” He moved toward the door but stopped when something on the entryway table caught his eye. “You’re going to the Waltz by the River Ball?”

She rose to her feet. “Yes, part of being a good reporter these days is keeping in touch with the movers and shakers.” Badger was a community of fifty thousand, so there weren’t that many muckety-mucks, as her father used to call them, to rub elbows with.

“If you could swing me an invitation, I’d consider us even. Since you’re so convinced you owe me,” he said.

“Sure. Actually, I need a date.” It was hardly a fair trade, considering he’d saved her life. “Why do you want to go?”

“You get better stories when people recognize your face,” he said. “Since I’m new in town, I’ve got to start making connections with those people.”