Targeted For Murder. Elizabeth Goddard

some fine-tuned war machine—accosted her. Something about him, something feral in his presence, made her insides hum. Would it be so wrong to rely on him a little? She didn’t have to trust him with everything...well, just her life.

      Trust no one.

      But her father hadn’t met Cooper Wilde when he’d said the words. Could he have known she’d be tracked into the heart of the wilderness? He’d given her no instructions on how, exactly, to stay hidden. All she had in her toolbox were implements to help her disappear.

      And now, this one guy...

      In a way, Cooper was the missing piece in her backpack. He was a weapon. And from what she’d seen so far, he appeared to be the most capable person she’d ever met.

      “You’re risking your life by sticking around.”

      “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

      She averted her gaze. “Don’t you get it?”

      When she looked back at him, he proffered that crazy grin. He had some charm about him, but she didn’t think that was his intention. He came across as more of a warrior.

      “Okay, if you’re going to stick around—” was she really saying this? “—then you should know what you’re getting into.”

      “That’s all I’m asking.”

      Hadley climbed out. Cooper slid into the driver’s seat.

      “What are you doing?”

      “Let’s get out of here and you can tell me while I drive.”

      “Where are you taking me?”

      “Anywhere would be safer than this cabin.”

      Hadley ran around and climbed into the passenger seat. “Can you get it started?”

      He turned the key. Kept trying until the engine turned over. Then smiled at her. “I have the right touch.”

      “You just tried longer than I did, that’s all.”

      “Like I said. The right touch.”

      Shifting into gear, he steered the Jeep onto what barely counted as a road. Hadley felt like she was handing her life over to a complete stranger. She held on to the handgrip, feeling the strain of the geriatric vehicle as it bumped and jolted over the potholes and through the darkening forest.

      “I’m listening.”

      “What?”

      “You were going to tell me what I’m getting into.”

      She sat for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts and figure out where to begin. He seemed to take her hesitation for reluctance, because he said, “Megan Spears from Iowa... I promise, you’re safe with me. Your secret is safe with me.”

      “Okay, well for starters, my real name is...” Should she do it? Should she jump in with both feet? But Hadley needed to tell someone. “My name is Hadley Mason.”

      He glanced at her intermittently, but then focused back on the hazardous road out. Her cabin hadn’t been too far from the nearest town and soon enough, they saw the lights flickering between the trees, dotting the forest like stars in the sky.

      Gideon, Oregon—a quiet, remote historical town smack in the middle of the Wild Rogue Wilderness.

      Cooper urged the old Jeep into the shadows behind a two-story home near the center of the tiny town. He turned off the ignition, then shifted in the seat to give her his full attention.

      Oh, boy.

      “What are you doing? Why are we...parked in the shadows?”

      “This is the back of my business. The house is both storefront and home.” He gestured to the second story. “That’s the apartment, should you choose to stay. I’m parked in the shadows so nobody will see or bother us. I didn’t want to assume, though, that you had agreed to stay. I’m still waiting to hear your story.”

      “Yeah, and after you hear it I’m waiting to have that invitation withdrawn.”

      “Not likely.”

      Hadley drew in a breath and spilled everything that had happened this morning. She shared about the passport but stopped just short of telling him about all the cash in her backpack. Money changed people. And if he chose to steal from her, what recourse did she have? He knew she didn’t want to go to the police.

      The events of her day seemed like a lifetime ago but it hadn’t been twelve hours. The words made her sound crazy.

      “And now, here I am. With you. But you don’t have to be involved. You can let me walk away.”

      Hadley waited for him to respond.

      But Cooper Wilde just stared at her.

      Right. Why had she hoped he wouldn’t think she was as crazy as she sounded? Oh, yeah, because he’d fought with her assassin. He had some evidence she spoke the truth.

      “Are you going to say anything?”

      He blew out a long pent-up breath he’d obviously held through her entire story.

      * * *

      Cooper scraped a hand over his face. Again. At the look on her face, he realized his action hadn’t exactly conveyed confidence. He was doing a poor job of reassuring her. She’d run if he didn’t respond right away and with the correct answer. But he had no idea what to say. How to respond.

      That was one wild story.

      So he just said, “Give me a second to think. That was...a lot.”

      Still, he knew she had to be telling the truth.

      “You don’t believe me.”

      “I do, actually.” And wished he didn’t. “Remember, I fought with the guy trying to kill you.”

      “That doesn’t mean you have to believe the rest of the story.”

      “No, but it sounds right. He wasn’t the typical thug one would run into around here.” Or anywhere else. Nor was he a backwoods drug runner. Clearly she was involved in something high level. The only thing that wasn’t certain was whether she was lying about being an innocent victim—but his gut told him she was telling the truth.

      “Well, I guess this is goodbye.” She opened her door and stepped out.

      “Wait a minute.” Cooper jumped out and ran around the vehicle. Stepping in her path, he held out his hands like he tried to calm a skittish mare. “Where are you going to go? You can’t run from this on your own.”

      “What do you suggest I do? Wait for the sheriff? This is above his pay grade.” Hadley started pacing, the dim light from his apartment above lighting her path. “I didn’t ask for any of this.” She stopped and stared at him. “And neither did you.”

      Her curly, strawberry-blond hair askew, weary didn’t begin to describe her. She appeared fragile and yet he’d seen her combat skills firsthand. Knew she was physically strong. Believed there had to be something strong inside, too, that had kept her alive. She’d said her father had taught her the skills. He must have suspected this day might come. What had he done that resulted in this happening to his daughter?

      “I’m sorry about your father,” he said. “He obviously loved you. Wanted you to be safe.”

      She hung her head. “Thanks.”

      “What do you do for living, Hadley?”

      “Why does that matter?”

      “I’m forming a plan. Just work with me.”

      “I’m an artist—a painter. I have a following on Etsy that pays the bills. I’m slowly building my career with exhibitions in small galleries and museums and a few commissioned pieces. But this coming Friday I have