Wilderness Target. Sharon Dunn

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       ONE

      Clarissa Jones quickened her pace through the tiny airport that serviced Discovery, Montana. Fear shot through her when she looked back at the barrel-chested man making a beeline for her. Why had one of her former boss’s employees followed her here?

      Max Fitzgerald owned one of the largest real estate and property management firms in Southern California, and the man coming after her hauled furniture for him when he staged houses. As Max’s assistant—up until two weeks ago—Clarissa had known all the people Max employed. This man, whose first name was Don, had displayed a temper on more than one occasion.

      Don caught up with her, grabbing her arm just above the elbow. “I think you better come with me.”

      She recoiled from the pressure as the man’s meaty fingers dug into her flesh. Max had been angry when she’d refused his advances, and even angrier when she’d told his wife. But having his hired muscle chase her all the way to Montana seemed a bit extreme even for a hothead like Max Fitzgerald.

      “Let go of me.” Pain shot through her nerve endings as she tried to pull away.

      Several people craned their heads in her direction. Don glanced from side to side, suddenly aware of the spectators around them, and lightened his grip on her arm.

      “He wants you on a flight back to California tonight.” The man spoke in a hushed tone, but the threat of violence in his eyes terrified Clarissa.

      The hired muscle had been one of the last ones on the plane. She’d managed to avoid him for the whole of the flight, but now there was little chance of escape.

      Clarissa squared her shoulders and looked Don in the eye. “I don’t want anything to do with that man anymore.”

      Why was Max doing this? Was this about revenge or control? She had expected to be fired when she’d refused his advances. She’d spent ten years working her way up from the cleaning crew. She’d been his assistant for less than a month. Up until then, the veneer of her employer’s charisma and her minimal contact with him had masked who he really was.

      Her newfound faith had compelled her to tell Mrs. Fitzgerald what kind of man she was married to. Stella Fitzgerald had been grateful—and apparently had immediately confronted her husband. Days later, when Clarissa had told him she was going to file wrongful dismissal charges against him, Max, who had access to her personal information, had stopped direct deposit on her paycheck and used his position as owner of her apartment building to get her evicted. The final nail in the coffin of her life in California was when Max filed charges saying she’d embezzled company funds. She’d gone to the police, but by then her reputation was so smeared they didn’t take her claims seriously. Max was a respected businessman, while she was homeless and jobless, with no one on her side.

      So she had decided to return to Discovery after ten years away to start over. And now Max’s muscle had followed her here. Where would his desire for revenge end?

      Don leaned close to her, eyes bloodshot, breath hot on her face. “Now you listen to me. We’re going to go down to that ticket counter and you’re going to buy a one-way ticket to L.A. Max wants to talk to you.”

      Clarissa gasped. The threat of violence stained his every word. Fear squeezed her heart like a vise. She glanced around. She could scream right now, but somehow she thought better of it. She didn’t know what this man was capable of.

      A group of people swarmed toward the baggage claim as the first suitcase appeared on the carousel.

      Stay with the crowd and he can’t hurt you.

      She pulled free of his grip and stalked toward baggage claim, but then dived into the ladies’ room. He wouldn’t follow her here. She hid in a stall, taking in a deep breath to ease the rising panic.

      It was close to 11:00 p.m. now. An airport this small probably pretty much shut down by midnight. She listened to women chatting, water being turned on and the hand drier blowing. Forty-five minutes passed. She couldn’t stay in here forever.

      Was he just outside, waiting to grab her? She opened the door to the stall. A young woman with a backpack stood drying her hands.

      Clarissa stepped toward her. “Can you do me a favor? Could you look and see if there’s a large man in a brown sport coat standing outside? He has short, spiky hair.”

      The woman smiled. “Trouble with the boyfriend, huh?”

      Clarissa didn’t bother to correct the woman’s assumption. “If you could just look, I’d be so grateful.”

      The woman nodded, disappeared and then came back a moment later. “You’re clear.”

      Clutching her handbag, Clarissa raced out to the main area of the airport. Don was at the other end by a snack cart with his back to her. She assessed her options.

      Four people stood in line at the rental car agency—if she tried to join the line, there would be too much risk of being noticed while she waited. She ran toward the sliding doors just as the thug turned in her direction. Clarissa breathed in clean night air as she scrambled to come up with a plan of escape. If memory served from the time she’d lived here as a teenager, the town of Discovery was eight or ten miles from the airport.

      There were several hotel shuttle buses, but no taxis.

      A set of doors farther down opened, and Don stepped out. Clarissa slipped into the shadows by the brick building. She held her breath, fearing that even exhaling would alert him to her presence. He lumbered down the sidewalk of the unloading zone, away from her.

      A broad-shouldered man with light brown hair got out of a van that was parked in the shuttle lane. The graphic on the side said Jefferson Expeditions. He walked toward the airport holding a clipboard. He hadn’t locked the doors, probably thinking whoever he was picking up would just let themselves in.

      Max’s thug was talking to a woman who had СКАЧАТЬ