Presumed Dead. Angela Ruth Strong
she lost her balance.
She scampered away. “If the bomb was for me, how did you know about it?”
He held his ground. Tilted his head toward the deck. “I saw it being delivered.”
Her gaze ricocheted back and forth between his eyes. “How? Why are you here? Why does nobody know you’re alive?”
He pressed his lips together. The truth was going to hurt. Just not as bad as the explosion would have. “I’ve been in the US for the past four years. I wasn’t in the helicopter crash. I’d seen someone tampering with the engines and went to ask my sergeant to delay the op, but before he could halt takeoff, my team headed out. They didn’t make it far before crashing into a fuel tanker. Someone else’s body came home in my coffin.”
She rocked onto her heels, gripping the back of the couch for balance. “You’ve been pretending to be dead?”
Was that all she’d heard? “Yes, because—”
“I am so tired of hearing men’s excuses.” Her hand covered her heart. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I thought you were different, Preston. You used to be.”
He held out his hands and blinked. What just happened? “You’d rather I be dead?”
“No.” She took a couple deep breaths. Her eyes grew shiny, like she was about to cry—to mourn his death a second time. “I’d rather you tell the truth.”
This was what he got for saving her life? A guilt trip? Of course, Holly didn’t know he already had enough guilt to keep him from being able to return home. Probably forever.
But as for telling the truth, Preston had tried, and his sergeant had been killed because of it. SOAR Commander Robert Long had found Sergeant Beatty’s body hanging in his bunk the morning after Beatty told Preston he’d look into possible sabotage. The death had been ruled a suicide.
Letting another person die because they knew the truth wasn’t a risk Preston was willing to take, which was why Holly could never tell anyone about him, either.
“Holly, the CID—Criminal Investigation Division for the military—hid the sabotage from the American people. They aren’t going to let me come back to life and point fingers unless I know exactly who I’m pointing at, and I don’t yet. So that means either the military will throw me in prison, or the person responsible for this will kill me. I have to stay dead for now.”
He wasn’t the bad guy here.
She shook her head. Shook it harder. “No. There has to be another way.”
He used to think the same thing until it ate him up inside. “There’s not.”
But what-ifs still teased sometimes. What if Holly let the crime scene investigators back at the cabin presume her dead, and she started a new life with him off the grid? Or what if she helped him assume a new identity? Or what if he stayed in the cabin and she visited occasionally? Then he wouldn’t be so alone anymore.
But none of those would be the best thing for her. He was there for her and not himself.
She planted her hands on her hips. “Am I just supposed to forget the way you popped back into my life today? Am I supposed to keep this a secret from your family, too? You know your little sister married my brother, right?”
“Holly.” He couldn’t help reaching for her.
She knocked his hand down. “That was supposed to be us. Don’t you care?”
He folded his arms. He wouldn’t tell her how he’d been glad at first when his old buddy Caleb looked out for her after his “death.” Or how he’d broken a couple knuckles punching a tree when she’d finally said yes to the man’s proposal. Or that he’d bought her an engagement ring before he left, and it sat in the loft above them collecting dust.
“I’m here because I care. I’m sure it would be easier for you if you didn’t know I was alive, but I saw someone plant a bomb in your cabin, and I had to save you.”
She glanced out the window. “Why would someone want to kill me?”
The question should rock him as well, but having played dead for the past few years, he’d found out more about murder than he’d ever wanted to know. “It could be a recently released prisoner whose case you lost. It could be a current criminal whose guilt you are about to expose in court. It could be a jealous coworker.” Preston sighed. “Have you received any threats? Do you have any enemies?”
Her eyes rolled up to look at the ceiling as she thought, and Preston had a pretty good idea of who she was thinking about. Finding her fiancé with the other woman had been an accident. Preston had simply planned to drop off a Bible and couple’s devotional at Caleb’s house as an anonymous wedding gift—a symbol to himself of wishing the best for Holly’s marriage. But instead he’d stumbled upon the fact Caleb was cheating. No way could he let Holly unknowingly form an alliance with a traitor, so he’d snapped a couple photos with his phone and stuck them in her mailbox. Of course, being a philanderer didn’t mean the man was capable of murder...
“No. I don’t think so.” She looked to him, fear etched like stone in the gray depths of her gaze. “What do I do?”
Well, she couldn’t die. He wouldn’t let her. His family had already lost too much. She’d already lost too much. “I’m going to have to go back into hiding, Holly. But I’m here for you until I figure out who planted that bomb. You’re going to be safe.”
She stepped toward him. Probably wanting a hug for support, now that she was momentarily in the acceptance phase of shock. Whether it lasted or not, he couldn’t be there for her like that. They would have to sever their connection soon, and it would be better if there was less to sever.
He grasped her hands to hold her at arm’s distance. “You can trust me, but we can’t be friends. I’ll be leaving again, so I can’t get close to you.”
Footsteps thudded outside the front door. The doorknob rattled.
Preston didn’t have any more time to worry about staying aloof. If he was going to consider himself a bodyguard, then he’d have to protect her. He wrapped one arm around her waist and dived behind the couch as the windowpane next to the door shattered.
Holly’s muscles throbbed against the hardwood floor as the lock on the door clicked and the hinges squeaked. Someone was breaking into Preston’s cabin. She held her breath, igniting fire in her lungs.
Footsteps thudded toward them, then stopped in the middle of the room.
She swallowed and looked at Preston to gauge his reaction. His blank expression hid all emotion, but his lack of fear gave her confidence. Did he have a gun? A knife? Experience in hand-to-hand combat? She’d thought she’d known him so well, yet this side of him was completely foreign to her.
He focused past her, looking underneath the couch. She turned her head to see what he saw.
Familiar tan leather boots. But probably just familiar because everybody wore outdoorsy boots in Tahoe. The kind of boots that would have no problem chasing her if she ran for the water or the woods. She’d head for the water. Being barefoot, she couldn’t outrun the intruder. She’d have to outswim him.
The boots turned in a circle, as if the man were studying the small cabin. They tromped into the bathroom, then disappeared as he climbed up the ladder to check out the loft.
Had he gone all the way into the loft? Would she and Preston be able to sneak out without him seeing? She lifted her chin to visually measure the distance between her feet and the sliding glass door. If she could turn herself around, she might be able to slide the door open without making a sound.
But what if the rusty doorframe didn’t cooperate? Or the intruder wasn’t all the way up the ladder and he saw