Reckless Faith

Elle’s feet pounded the dirt. Fear coursed through her blood, making her fast but unsteady.

Casper had been shot. It didn’t feel real. Who’d shot him? Who was this woman? The same person who’d attacked her aunt? Why? All she’d seen was a flash of denim jeans and a white T-shirt on a slim silhouette. Not enough to identify her.

Distant footsteps sounded behind her. The person wasn’t close, but they weren’t far either.

Air soared in and out of her lungs as she neared the house. She didn’t have a key or her phone, but Jace’s words slipped back into her memory. About the lock on his old bedroom window still being broken. Was it possible he still hadn’t fixed it? Could she get inside and hide in the house? Maybe find a phone or a weapon?

She focused on that, and not the person behind her. Not the gun that had fired or the bullet that had hit Casper.

A sob tried to crawl up her throat, but she swallowed it. She didn’t like Casper, but he didn’t deserve to be shot in the back.

Instead of running toward the front of the house, she ran around it as quietly as possible, toward the back, near where Jace’s old bedroom was. The shooter might expect her to run to the front, and then she’d be open to a bullet.

As she neared the back, her run slowed to a fast walk, and she used each tree as a shield, sneaking from one to another. She couldn’t hear the footsteps behind her anymore. Was that good or bad? Had the woman changed direction?

When she was opposite the window, her hands suddenly felt clammy and her throat tight. To get to the house, she had to leave the protection of the trees.

Three breaths, each one long and drawn out, steadying her…reminding her that she was strong and she could do this. She’d climbed through his window a hundred times before, never making a noise. She could do it again.

One final breath, and she crept forward, keeping low as she crossed the backyard. When she reached the window, she nudged it open, a relieved cry almost slipping from her throat when it moved.

Still broken…thank God.

She pushed it the rest of the way, cringing as a small creaking noise sounded. Quickly, she scrambled through and slid down the wall, finally sucking in a lungful of air.

She wasn’t safe yet, but if the woman hadn’t seen her access the house, then she’d surely assume Elle was still outside. And that was Elle’s advantage.

Remaining on the floor, Elle crawled across the room and out into the hall.

Phone or weapon. She needed one of them. Jace didn’t have a landline, but he might have an emergency burner. And he’d definitely have a gun hidden somewhere. In his bedroom?

It took her longer than it should have to make it to his room, and her heart pounded the entire time. Dammit, the windows were huge in here.

Staying low, she crawled across the room to his bedside table. She opened the first drawer and rummaged around. Nothing. She checked the second drawer, which was filled with books and notepads, then the third, which had some odds and ends.

No gun. No knife or phone. Nothing.

Shit.

She opened the drawers again, this time feeling carefully to see if anything was strapped to the underside. When she didn’t find anything there either, she checked under the bed.

Every second felt like ten and made her chest grow tighter. Was it possible he didn’t have a weapon in here?

No. He had to. He was too safety conscious.

Think, Elle. If anyone knew him well enough to find it, it was her.

She crept into the walk-in closet and searched every shelf. She looked behind clothes and shoes. After a few minutes, her skin started to feel clammy. She grabbed a stool and looked on the top shelf. She was pushing blankets aside when she saw it. A box. No, not a box. A safe.

It was here. She didn’t know that for sure, but she felt it. It had to be.

But the safe was locked with a code.

Crap.

She tried Jace’s birthday first, but it didn’t work. His mother or father’s birthday? She closed her eyes, trying to remember the dates. When she did, she quickly typed them in. But neither worked. She tried a few more combinations before an idea came to her.

She typed in the six digits of her own birthday—the safe popped open.

And inside, there was a handgun.

She’d just wrapped her fingers around the grip of the weapon when glass shattered in another room. Her gaze shot toward the door and she bit back a gasp. Quickly, she climbed down and hid behind the door of the closet.

She stood and waited, gun raised, ready to shoot.

Jace pressed his foot to the floor of the car. He was driving more than twice the speed limit, and it still didn’t feel fast enough. He needed to get to Elle. He’d tried her phone half a dozen more times, and she hadn’t answered a single call.

Something was wrong.

When he finally got to his street, he saw two cars pulled to the side of his driveway, the first being Elle’s, the second a vehicle he’d seen once before—Casper’s black Mazda.

His eyes narrowed on her open door. On the way the Mazda had crashed into her car.

Son of a bitch.

He was scanning the line of trees that bordered his drive when he saw the body. Not Elle’s body—a man’s.

He stopped behind the cars and grabbed his Glock before climbing out. Keeping the gun raised, he eyed the trees around him, searching for any movement or sign that something wasn’t right. When he reached the body, he knelt and checked for a pulse.

There was a heartbeat, but it was faint.

He turned the man over to see Casper.

What the hell was going on? Had Elle shot him? No, she couldn’t have. As far as he knew, she didn’t even own a gun.

He checked her car, spotting her phone. She wouldn’t have willingly left without it. Someone else had been here. Someone who’d shot Casper. But what had happened to Elle?

At the sound of a car pulling into the driveway, he rose and turned his Glock on the newcomer, only to lower it at the sight of Eastern. His brother climbed from the car, his own pistol in hand as he jogged toward Jace.

“Next time, you wait for fucking backup,” Eastern growled as he stopped beside him. “Who is that?”

“Casper White.”

“Dead or alive?”

“Alive. Just.”

Eastern lifted his radio and called for an ambulance before glancing around. “She’s not here?”

“No.”

Eastern’s radio squawked. “Sheriff, a deserted car’s been reported on Flint Matthews’s property. It’s the rental car you were looking into.”

Jace’s gut clenched. Flint’s property bordered his own.

“She’s here,” Jace said, more to himself than his brother as he searched down the drive. “Stephanie’s here and she’s after Elle.” He started to move forward, but Eastern grabbed his arm.

“Wait.”

“She’s in trouble. I’m not waiting for backup!”

“I don’t expect you to wait for backup, but we have to be smart. The woman’s armed and not afraid to shoot. We can’t save Elle if we’re dead. We go toward the house from separate directions through the forest. I’ll take the back of the house and check outside first. You take the front, and the second one of us sees her or needs backup, we call for it. Got it?”

“Fine.” He tugged his arm away and started running through the trees, while Eastern went in the opposite direction.

The same questions ran through Jace’s head the entire time he ran toward the house. Was Elle okay? Had she gotten away? How had Casper gotten caught in the crossfire?

He forced himself to move faster, pounding his feet into the earth as branches raked his skin. When he neared the house, he slowed his steps.

Keeping the Glock raised and his eyes moving, he slipped from the trees to the house. He’d deployed on so many dangerous missions. Put his life on the line again and again, but this felt different. Harder. More perilous. Because this was Elle, the woman he’d been in love with since he was a kid. The girl he’d grown up loving.

His eyes narrowed on the open front door. The long, narrow glass window beside it had been shattered to gain entry. Had that been Elle or Stephanie?

He didn’t make a sound as he slipped inside the front door. The quiet of the house was loud, punching him in the gut and making him question if he was too late.

No. He wasn’t too late. He was here, and so was she. He just needed to find her.

Keeping his back to the wall, he stepped into the living room, searching for Elle or Stephanie. There was nothing.

He made his way into the kitchen, quietly checking cabinets and around corners. Checking under anything capable of hiding a body.

When still he found nothing, he moved down the hall and into his bedroom.

Little things immediately pinged his attention. The way the drawers on his bedside table weren’t completely closed. The sheets on his bed were tossed up at one corner.

Someone had been in here. Someone had searched this room.

Quietly, he inched forward, first checking under the bed, then stepping into the connecting bathroom. When both proved empty, he focused on the walk-in closet, eyes narrowing on the half-closed door.

His steps were silent as he inched forward, closing the space between him and the closet. Then in one swift move, he swung the door around and aimed his Glock behind it.

Elle gasped, hands shaking as she thrust his gun forward and aimed it at his chest.

Her eyes widened as they took him in. “Jace!”

She was alive… Thank God!

He lowered his hand and tugged her into his chest. Holding her. Breathing her in. Fucking drowning in her. “You’re okay.” He wanted to repeat those words again and again to convince himself they were true.

“I’m okay,” she whispered.

For a moment, neither of them moved. It was like they couldn’t. Then a noise sounded in the hall. It was the smallest creak of a floorboard. Elle stiffened, while Jace pushed her behind him and stepped back into the bedroom, Glock once again lifted.

Stephanie stepped into the room, her own gun raised. Anger narrowed her eyes as she flicked her attention from him to Elle before returning her gaze to him.

“Jace. I should probably be pissed that you’re here. I’m not. Because now you can watch as I destroy your life—like you destroyed mine.”