Hunted, A Romantic Suspence Novel by Suzanne Ferrell Read Free Book Online Page B

punishment had come, and every second Matt spent in her company put him at risk of receiving the same. Anyone helping her would die right along with her.
    Closing her eyes, she thought about Marshal Castello. He’d promised to keep her safe. He and his partner had been her last line of protection. Yet they’d betrayed her.
    Nowhere on this earth will provide safe haven for the traitor among us.
    She stared at the door. It stood about six inches open. Wide enough for her to see trouble coming. Years ago she’d learned to sleep lightly. She never knew when the Devil would come and drag her from her bed to torment her.
    Those nights, his eyes filled with wild rage. She’d obeyed without question, hoping she’d only be forced to stand in the cold rain or snow in nothing more than her night shirt, quoting gun specifications or his own personal manifesto against the country’s government and its leaders. The slightest sign of hesitation or question from her triggered more violent punishment. She rubbed the scar on her hip and thigh.
    A shiver ran through her.
    Sleep. She needed to sleep, to regain some strength. In the morning she’d decide what best to do.
    She touched her fingers to her lips once more. The gift of Matt’s kiss warmed her from the inside out. She thought of his deep hazel-green eyes, the feel of his hands on her arms.
    Her body relaxed into the warm covers.
    Tomorrow she’d give him a gift too. She’d protect him from the Devil.
     
     
    Matt listened to her find her way to the rear bedroom, then pulled out his laptop and connected to the Wi-Fi before sitting at the kitchen counter. Now he had a few clues to the puzzle of Katie Myers.
    He brought up a news service archive and typed in Jacob Strict’s name. The computer screen took a moment to change then a page listing numerous articles appeared.
    Scrolling down the page, Matt searched for the site he wanted. When he spied it, he clicked and watched the same image of Strict that had been on the TV fill his screen. The photograph didn’t diminish the crazed gleam in the man’s eyes. Matt clicked on the next picture in the series.
    The Federal Building in Philadelphia just minutes after the bomb blast leveled two-thirds of it popped up on the screen. Black smoke plumed from the building. Firemen sprayed water over the smoldering rubble as others helped victims climb through the debris to safer ground. Matt remembered this scene well. This picture had haunted the news reports for weeks after the bombing.
    Next came the funeral procession of one of the ten FBI agents killed in the blast. The tear-streaked faces of her teenage daughters as they escorted the casket to the cemetery had broken the hearts of many an American.
    Moving on to the next image, Matt saw again the milling crowds of protestors and supporters outside the courthouse where Jacob Strict’s trial took place. Riot police had kept Strict’s followers apart from the friends and families of those injured in the bombing.
    Finally, he hit upon the picture he’d been searching for.
    A young woman exited the courtroom, flanked by two large men in dark suits and even darker sunglasses. Her white-blonde hair pulled away from her face with a headband, she wore a dark-blue suit coat and skirt with a white blouse beneath.
    Matt cropped the picture, trying to enhance the image and get a closer view of the chief witness against Strict. The same oval-shaped face, full lips and large eyes fringed with dark lashes.
    Seventeen year-old Katie Myers, formerly known as Sarah Strict, the Prophet’s stepdaughter, almost single-handedly brought down one of the most charismatic militia leaders in the century’s last fifty years.
    And she slept upstairs in the back bedroom tonight.
    Matt studied her image. In the enlarged picture’s graininess he read the fear etched on her face. Yet he recognized the strong set of her jaw. He’d seen that determination when she’d held the Glock on him in his car earlier. He