Runaway
Katie Cross
RUNAWAY
Contemporary Romance
Fiction
Text copyright 2021 by Katie Cross
Any names, characters, places, events, incidents, similarities or resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or places, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the author. For information regarding permission, send a query to the author at [email protected].
Visit www.katiecrossromance.com for more information about the author, updates, or new books.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
FIGHTER
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About the Author
To Ryker.
For all your love, safety, and loyalty.
1 Stella Marie
Drizzling rain pattered my windshield as I stared at a two-story cabin built of wooden logs stacked on top of each other. Faded white lines lay between each log, making it look ancient. Rain stained the wood a darker shade of brown, and a little wisp of smoke rose above the chimney despite the moisture.
Charming, if I wasn't so terrified the owner would kick me out as soon as he saw me.
The longer I sat out here in my beater car that didn't even have a real license plate yet, the weirder this whole situation became.
And it was already pretty weird.
Still, there was one man that could help me, and that man both resented my existence and desperately needed it. He also proudly lived the life of a hermit in the mountains—I mean, who bragged about that?—and hated all details.
Mark Bailey.
That alone seemed pretty ridiculous, but so was this entire situation.
A few more moments passed while I rallied my courage. In fact, I prepared myself like this every time I had to talk to Mark. I'd clutch the phone for a few minutes, think through every sentence that I had to say, and then hope that he didn't wander off on a list of ideas. Eventually, he would wander. That much was inevitable. He'd talk things out, and I'd have to pull him back to reality with the main points he'd called for anyway.
Lately, he'd called a lot more often than usual.
Today would be very different, however, because we'd be face-to-face for the first time. I stalled this inevitable confrontation while trying to picture what he looked like. Mark and I had always spoken on the phone. He called me out of the blue one day, declared his need for an accountant, and proceeded to tell me about every business venture he'd ever started. For a man that hated details, he had a mind like a steel trap.
Plus, I'd seen his tax returns too many times. He was overly generous on charitable contributions to the point he sabotaged profit from his company. A bit of a bleeding heart, really.
Blonde, I'd guess. He sounded nice enough on the phone, so probably straight-laced, with short hair like a businessman and crisp clothes. He was single, at least his tax returns weren't filed jointly, and had no other income besides his own. Slight of frame, maybe. Like Ryan Gosling?
With a jolt, I shook my head. No, I had to stop assigning actors to everyone I met. It just . . . made people easier to approach.
With a shove, I forced myself out of my little car and into the pounding rain. It slammed into my shoulders while I shut the car door, then skirted the edges of a dirt path filled with water. Mud squished under my shoes as I scuttled under an eave and forced myself to knock. The only thing that kept me moving was momentum. If I thought too hard about this, I'd just leave.
Ten seconds after I knocked, the door flew open. Out of sheer nerves, my heart fell all the way to the pit of my stomach.
Then I burst out laughing.
A tall, broad-shouldered, bear of a man glowered at me. He had brown hair, almost black, that stuck up in odd angles from the back of his head. It was at odds with his hazel eyes in a lovely way. His beard hadn't been trimmed in days. He wore no shirt and gray sweatpants with a pair of flip-flops on his feet. My glance was quick, but he certainly wasn't slight or business-like in any sense of the word.
A hibernating bear came to mind first. Hardly Ryan Gosling. Hardly what I always pictured on the other end of the phone. Somehow, though, this was better. First, who would mess with me if that scowl came to the door? Not Joshua. At least, I'd hoped not. For years I thought I knew Joshua, but the last few weeks had been revealing.
Second, I could fit Mark's voice with this guy.
This was a wild Mark Bailey.
Quickly, I drown my amusement in the face of his dark annoyance. Now that I thought about it, this may not even be Mark. He spoke about a twin brother, JJ, often enough. Behind him was a warm-appearing cabin, with a snapping fire that let out heat. A trickle of rain ran down my back, and I shivered.
“Are you lost?” he asked.
“No, I . . . I'm looking for Mark Bailey.”
His eyebrows lifted. When he said nothing more, I realized that was the only response I could expect.
“Are you Mark?”
He nodded. I rolled my lips to school my laugh. No, I couldn't laugh at him again. He'd hear the wild hysteria. The tinge of desperation and fear and uncertainty that belied everything in my life now. Then he'd turn me away.
“I . . . I'm . . .”
My name hovered on the end of my tongue. Stella Marie. Did I dare say Marie? I'd always run my accounting business through my
