Loving A Hero Page 10

  He kept talking as if she hadn’t spoken. "I stopped into Club Vortex one night and recognized you."

  Shelly remained quiet, wanting him to keep talking. The more she knew, the better she could defend herself, and it kept him from focusing on her.

  "I followed you home," he continued. "That's when I learned I had a daughter again."

  "Again?" The question popped out before she considered whether it was wise or not to ask it. She held her breath, waiting for his reaction.

  He continued without missing a beat. "After my wife and daughter died, I didn't think I could go on. Then I found you." His gaze leveled on her. "I knew then we were meant to be together. You, me, and our daughter."

  No way this nutjob would ever get near Maggie. She'd kill him first. Trying to stall, she asked, "Why did you shoot at me?"

  She realized she'd asked the wrong question when his expression went postal.

  "I shot at your boyfriend. I considered getting rid of him months ago because he was in my way. Fortunately for him, you broke off the relationship before I had to." His furious stare pierced her. "Then he came back."

  Shelly tensed, expecting to see his fist coming at her, so she tried to change the subject.

  "What happened to your family?" He'd seemed calmer when he talked about his wife and daughter. If she could form some kind of connection with him, maybe she could talk him into letting her go.

  A look of intense pain flashed across his eyes, his gaze becoming unfocused. "It was an accident. Two Christmases ago, we left a party and picked Katy up from the sitters. I—I only had a couple drinks . . ."

  She glanced past him, at the open door. Could she get through it while he was lost in his thoughts?

  "I didn't see the light turn red," he continued. A shudder shook him, as sweat broke out on his forehead. "They died instantly, and I barely survived." He reached up and pressed two fingers against a scar she hadn't noticed that started at his temple and ran into his hairline.

  Shelly knew it was now or never. Who knew what this freak had in store for her. She bent her knees, leaning forward and rushed him as he continued to stare off into space. Before he had a chance to defend himself, she rammed into his stomach and sent him crashing into the wall behind him.

  She darted out. Fortunately for her the front door was unlocked, and she threw it open and ran outside as he bellowed her name.

  Joseph Bartlett. Finally they had a name, and a good idea where this SOB had taken Shelly. Dave’s facial recognition tip worked, and they’d gotten a hit off of Google Images.

  They'd already checked out his home in Lakewood, with no luck. Bob was on the phone right now with Dave, who'd also managed to track down a rental property the man owned, outside of Denver.

  "Thanks, babe," Bob said, "you may have just saved our girl’s life." He tossed his cell phone on the dash. "Dave's notifying the police. It’s not too far, if you take the bypass, we should be able to get there in under an hour."

  Resting his elbow on the bucket seats, Stan stuck his head up front. "Get off the freeway before rush hour kicks in."

  Duke nodded, maneuvering around traffic and onto an off-ramp, before shooting Bob a quick glance. "What'd you learn?"

  "Appears this idiot killed his family in a drunk-driving accident. Had a little girl about Maggie's age. He was in a coma for months, and when he came out of it he apparently had some brain damage."

  "How'd you get his medical record?" Duke asked.

  "Easy," Bob said. "It's all part of his criminal record. Shelly's not the only woman he's stalked since he recovered."

  Stan shot him a quick glance. "No?"

  "Nope. Last year a woman he'd dated filed a restraining order on him after he broke into her house. Seems not only was he stalking her, he was also hanging around outside her daughter's grade school. He agreed to counseling and entered a residential treatment center for traumatic brain injuries in order to stay out of jail."

  As Stan’s mind spun with all the ways this nut could harm Shelly, worry was a moveable, breathable force inside him. "Go faster," he demanded, raking his fingers through his hair.

  Duke expertly maneuvered around cars until they reached the bypass, then he floored it.

  A little over half an hour later, as the sun began to set over the mountains, they turned onto a rocky dirt road that would lead them to Bartlett's property.

  It was the longest ten minutes of Stan's life as Duke raced across the rough road as fast as he could without shaking the car apart, as a tense silence reigned inside the vehicle.

  Hold on, Shelly, I'm coming . . .

  Shelly attempted to calm her racing heart as footsteps pounded behind her. Darting to the left she ducked down behind a wide tree and clapped a hand over her mouth, holding her breath as her stalker, whose name she still didn't know, raced past her.

  They had been playing a deadly game of cat and mouse for what seemed like forever, and her body, already battered and bruised, was weakening. Her legs trembled as she slowly straightened and carefully moved in the opposite direction. Hopelessly lost, she had no idea if she was moving toward the road or further into the forest where her body would never be found, either killed by her abductor or a wild animal. Her chances of getting out of this alive were dwindling fast.

  Grief filled her chest as she glanced behind her, picking up her pace. I'm sorry, Magpie. What would happen to her baby girl when she was gone? Would Stan make sure she was taken care of? Maybe one of his sisters would adopt her. That seemed reasonable, knowing the kindness of his family, and a little of her heartache eased.

  You’re not dead yet, her mind shouted, don't give up. Run!

  She pumped her legs faster, realizing she was heading uphill now. Her steps faltered. Surrounded by mountains, Shelly realized she should change course or she'd end up on a cliff bluff with no means of escape.

  "Shelly," the man shouted, heading in her direction. "There's no place to go. Stop now and I promise not to hurt you."

  Like she believed a word out of his crazy mouth. She ran faster, holding her arms up to protect her face against the branches as she carved a path through the thick foliage. The blood dripping down one cheek indicated she was already scraped up.

  A short time later, chest heaving with exhaustion, Shelly's worst fears came true. Her heart broke as she stared out over the yawning precipice in front of her, with nowhere to go except back the way she'd come. Back toward the very monster she'd been running from.

  That's when she saw it, a car traveling up the road below her. Duke's car.

  Hope flared inside her, and she whispered Stan's name like a prayer, then screamed loud and long. Moving near the edge, she waved her arms like a wild woman, letting lose with another piercing scream. The car braked to a stop, then took off, tearing up the rocky road. Even from this distance, she could see the gravel flying as it careened around a sharp corner and disappeared from sight.

  Hold on for a little while longer.

  Stan’s coming . . .

  Stan couldn't see Shelly's face, but even from this distance he'd heard the terror in her screams. She'd appeared so tiny standing on the bluff, so fragile against the forest backdrop. One slip, and she'd tumble down the rocky slope to her death.

  He kept his eyes glued to the rock-face, searching for a clearing, however small. "There has to be a way up," he ground out between gritted teeth, white-knuckling the door handle in preparation of leaping from the car.

  "There." Bob pointed off to the right, a couple hundred yards in front of them. A slope appeared to have been cleared as a trail of some sort, slightly overgrown, it still looked passable.

  Duke brought the car to a careening halt and they all jumped out.

  Shelly ducked down behind a large boulder when she heard her abductor yelling her name, threatening her, as he crashed through the trees and into the clearing not too far from where she hid. Fear crawled up her throat and her body shook no matter how hard she tried to control it. There was nowhere t
o go. Only the steep drop-off behind her, and the narrow passage where he now stood.

  The sound of footsteps heading in her direction indicated she was fast running out of time. As soon as he reached the boulder, he'd spot her.

  She glanced furiously around, hoping to find a weapon of some kind. Spotting a large rock, she palmed it. Her body tensed in preparation of the approaching danger.

  The guy isn't that big. She should be able to take him.

  Maybe.

  Do I have a choice?

  No. She wasn't going to just stand there while this freak hurt her. Muscles braced, Shelly rose into a crouch. And waited. Hopefully, he didn't have a weapon on him. She hadn't noticed one back at his cabin, though she knew he owned a gun.

  Footsteps drew closer. Her abductor’s harsh breathing indicated he was fatigued from chasing her, while she'd had a few minutes to rest, giving her an advantage. She had to act now, before he was able to gather his strength.

  Do it for Maggie. For Stan . . .

  Her little pep talk was exactly what she needed to shove down her fear, and let her frustration and anger rise to the surface. She'd just found happiness, and this bastard wasn't going to take it from her.

  His shadow fell across the path in front of her, first one foot, then the other as he came abreast of her hiding place.

  He glared down at her. "You shouldn’t have run—"

  Before he could finish the sentence, Shelly snapped to her feet and swung the rock against the side of his head, and he fell back on his ass.

  Not wasting a second, she dashed around him and took off at a run as his raged-filled snarl exploded behind her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Stan broke through the tree line when he heard Bartlett yelling, expecting to see him hurting Shelly. He was relieved to find her running toward him. His heart pounding hard and furious, he caught her when she leapt into his arms. Sobs shook her slender frame as he held her close.

  "Goddamn, baby," he managed, burying his face into her hair for only a split second as he sent up a prayer of thanks. Bob and Duke came to a stop next to him.

  “Thank the fuck,” Duke exclaimed, placing his hands on his knees and bending over to catch his breath.

  “Shelly, are you okay?” Bob asked, his voice filled with worry.

  Stan's head shot up, staring at the sonofabitch who'd taken her, hot rage coursing through him.

  Bartlett stood near a boulder, watching them with a shocked expression, his mouth hanging open. He didn't attempt to run and didn’t appear to have a weapon.

  "Watch him," Stan bit out, taking a moment to check her for injuries. "Did he hurt you?"

  Even as she shook her head, he spotted the blood on her cheek. Anger burned in his chest.

  "I'm fine." Her lower lip trembled, and tears fell from her big brown eyes.

  No, she wasn't. A dark bruise had formed in vivid detail against her pale cheek. Another marred her forehead. She'd been terrorized, kidnapped, and abused.

  Stan gently skimmed a finger across her battered skin. "How'd you get this?"

  "He knocked me out when I ran, after the car accident."

  "Did he do anything else?" If this guy had touched her sexually, he was more than a dead man. Stan would take his time and make him suffer . . .

  “No.”

  Stan stared into her eyes until he was convinced she was telling the truth, then he turned his head to glare at the man who'd hurt her.

  Bartlett met his gaze, expression tight.

  Stan carefully transferred Shelly into Bob's waiting arms, so he could take care of Bartlett. He strode forward, with every intention of beating this asshole within an inch of his life.

  Duke caught his shoulder. "Stan. Shelly's safe now, we need to take this guy in. Don't do something you're going to regret."

  "I'm fine," she agreed, though he could hear the tears in her voice.

  He shook Duke's hand off. "I won't kill him."

  Maybe.

  "I wouldn't have hurt her," Bartlett said, taking a small step back. His hands clenched at his sides, his chest rising and falling with palpable agitation. "We were meant to be together."

  "Like hell," Stan snarled.

  "I only wanted my family back."

  "I'm not your family," Shelly said quietly, as sirens sounded faintly in the distance, heading their way.

  Bartlett's gaze lit on her, regret entering his eyes. "You could have been. You and Maggie."

  Shelly responded with an adamant, "Never."

  "No. I suppose not," he murmured sadly, taking another step back.

  Stan tensed when it dawned on him what the man was about to do next. "You don't have to do that."

  "Do what?" Shelly asked.

  Before Stan had a chance to decide if he wanted to stop him or not, the man sighed, opened his arms wide, and fell back in a wide arc.

  Plunging silently to his death.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Turning down the street to his house, Stan glanced at Shelly, who'd fallen asleep a few hours earlier. "We're almost there, baby."

  "Mmm," she murmured sleepily. Straightening, she gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

  He leaned over, taking her hand and entwining his fingers with hers. "You doing okay?"

  After the police arrived at Bartlett's property, it'd taken hours before they'd been allowed to leave. Though roughed-up some, she'd refused medical treatment, except what was offered on the scene. Her bruises were all kinds of colors now, and the thought of her being hit sent fury roiling through him again.

  Since Bartlett was dead, he had no outlet for his emotions and had to choke it back.

  "I still can't believe he killed himself." She sighed. "It seems so sad, the way he lost his family. I feel sorta bad for him."

  He bit back a reply, unable to feel the same sympathy for the man. Even if she didn't remember the incident, Bartlett had abused her when she'd been defenseless to resist. Then he'd terrorized her and Maggie.

  The thought of how close Stan had come to losing her scared the hell out of him. Add the fact Bartlett had tried to kill him . . . No, Stan wasn't in a forgiving mood.

  He'd wanted to get her home to Maggie as soon as possible, so they'd borrowed Duke's car and headed out as soon as the cops gave the go-ahead. Bob had called Dave to pick him and Duke up, and the man arrived in time to hug Shelly before they’d headed out for Rock Bluff.

  Nearing midnight by the time he turned down his street, Stan squeezed her hand. "Maggie knows you’re coming back tonight and insisted on waiting up for you."

  This time happiness shone in her pretty brown eyes, along with a strong dose of eagerness. "I've missed her so much."

  She eagerly leaned forward in her seat as he pulled up in front of his place. The driveway was filled to capacity with cars, and he groaned, knowing every one of his family members waited inside to welcome them. Shelly reached for the door, so Stan jumped out and hurried around to help her exit.

  The porch-light came on, sending a burst of brightness across the front yard.

  As she stood, he bent and gently kissed her. Her familiar flavor sent a rush of heat through his body, and he didn't miss the flare of desire in her gaze. "Ready for the inquisition?"

  She laughed, reaching up to caress his cheek. "I'm just glad it's over."

  The front door opened, and Maggie came flying outside, dropping Barry Bear on the sidewalk as she leapt off the steps in her excitement. His family crowded onto the front porch, watching them expectantly. Carol bent to retrieve the stuffed animal.

  Shelly turned to catch Maggie as she flung herself into her arms. The laughter of mother and daughter filled Stan's chest with a warmth of emotion, and he curled his arms around them both in a group hug.

  “What happened to your face, Mama?” Maggie placed her tiny hand on Shelly’s cheek.

  “Mama fell, sweetheart.”

  “Does it hurt?” Maggie kissed the bruise on Shelly’s forehead.

  “I’m
fine, baby,” she assured her.

  Maggie twisted around and slid her little arms around his neck. "Hi, Mr. Cooper.” She shifted, clinging to him so he held her balanced on one arm. She palmed his cheek. "I'm really glad you and Mama are back." She laid her head on his chest and yawned.

  Stan smiled down at the adorable child, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, before lifting his gaze to Shelly. He reached for her hand, and they turned and walked up to greet his family.

  “Oh, you poor dear,” Carol said, placing her arm across Shelly’s shoulders and leading her inside. “Let’s put some ice on those bruises.”

  “I’m fine,” Shelly repeated, though Stan knew she had to be sore.

  His father stepped up next to him, placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze. “How you doing, son?”

  “I’m good, Dad.” He lowered his gaze to Maggie, who’d fallen asleep already against his chest. A smile crept across his lips. “Better than good.”

  Colleen punched him lightly in the arm, her gaze on Shelly, who sat on a kitchen stool while Carol wrapped a handful of ice in a washcloth. “Mark stayed home with the girls, but he said to tell you not to let Shelly get away. She’s a keeper.”

  “Yep,” Sandy said, grinning as Shelly turned bright red at being the center of conversation. “I second that.”

  “Now girls,” Carol murmured, pressing the icepack to Shelly’s forehead, “don’t badger your brother.”

  Stan froze when Shelly met his gaze over Carol’s shoulder, a smile on her lips as she mouthed the words, "I love you."

  Then his chest burst with happiness, and he mouthed back, "Then marry me."

  This time her peal of laughter was filled with joy as she said aloud, over the roar of his cheering family, "Okay."

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~

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