Zach's Law

  BANTAM BOOKS BY KAY HOOPER

  THE BISHOP TRILOGIES

  Stealing Shadows • Hiding in the Shadows

  Out of the Shadows

  Touching Evil • Whisper of Evil

  Sense of Evil

  Hunting Fear • Chill of Fear

  Sleeping with Fear

  Blood Dreams • Blood Sins • Blood Ties

  THE QUINN NOVELS

  Once a Thief • Always a Thief

  ROMANTIC SUSPENSE

  Amanda • After Caroline

  Finding Laura • Haunting Rachel

  CLASSIC FANTASY AND ROMANCE

  On Wings of Magic • The Wizard of Seattle

  My Guardian Angel (anthology)

  Yours 2 Keep (anthology)

  Golden Threads • Something Different

  Pepper’s Way • C.J.’s Fate

  The Haunting of Josie • Illegal Possession

  If There Be Dragons • Rebel Waltz

  Larger than Life • Time After Time

  In Serena’s Web • Raven on the Wing

  Rafferty’s Wife

  Zach’s Law is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 1987 by Kay Hooper

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Bantam Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  BANTAM BOOKS and the rooster colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  Originally published in paperback in the United States by Bantam Books, a division of Random House, Inc., in 1987.

  eISBN: 978-0-345-52844-5

  Cover art: Scott Biel

  Cover photograph of house: Sanna Pudas/Flickr/Getty Images

  www.bantamdell.com

  v3.1

  For Eileen—thanks

  “Now this is the Law of the Jungle—

  as old and as true as the sky;

  And the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper,

  but the Wolf that shall break it must die.”

  —KIPLING

  Contents

  Cover

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Epilogue

  ONE

  THEODORA SUZANNE JESSICA Tyler realized she’d made a mistake. Not a big one, really, except that it now looked as though she’d landed herself in a first-class mess. She was miles away from civilization, it was after midnight, and her beloved old Impala had just given up the ghost.

  Swearing, Teddy got out of the car and slammed the door, annoyed at herself rather than the Impala. She’d been warned, after all, that the car probably wouldn’t be able to stand the trip across the Rockies. And the poor thing had groaned and wheezed when she’d started the engine hours ago in that little town.

  “So what if their only hotel was a crummy one?” she told the car in disgust. “At least it had a roof. And there was a telephone. I could have put you in for repairs in that garage for a couple of days. I should have. Then we wouldn’t be stuck halfway down a mountain and miles from everything.” She glanced around at total darkness, adding a bit louder, “And on a deserted road, dammit. Except for us, there’s been no traffic for fifty miles.”

  Dispiritedly, she kicked a tire gently and began to swear in a steady voice. It made her feel better. Her voice was a rational sound in the utter quiet of a deserted night, and comforting for that reason.

  Teddy was accustomed to being alone, but she didn’t like being this alone. And since panic was alien to her nature, she began to get angrier.

  “There must be somebody in this godforsaken wilderness. Maybe if I blew the horn—”

  There was somebody in the wilderness.

  When he reached out, the last thing Zach expected to gather to his massive chest was a small, soft, decidedly feminine armful with a fine talent for creative cursing and great survival instincts. He’d heard a woman speak, but she’d sounded taller somehow, and it was too dark to see clearly.

  He clamped one big hand over her mouth, cutting off the loud and colorful swearing, and tried not to hurt her while also trying to protect vulnerable parts of his anatomy from her rage.

  “Hold it!” he growled hastily. “I’m not going to hurt you!”

  She chose not to believe him. She also chose to bring her small, booted heel down squarely on his left foot, and since he wasn’t wearing boots himself, the contact was definitely painful. She also bit him.

  “Dammit!” He grunted with pain, shifting his feet and momentarily releasing her mouth.

  “Let go of me, you big oaf!” she said, then drew a deep breath.

  Since he couldn’t afford to let her scream, Zach covered her mouth again. Her response was a series of indignant kicks and a few violent and improbable wiggles. A bit indignant himself, he lifted her completely off her feet and tightened his grasp with the care of a large and powerful man who knew his own vast strength to the last ounce; he was still hoping he wouldn’t hurt her.

  Speaking in a soft voice near her ear, he said, “I’ll uncover your mouth if you won’t scream—and if you do scream, I swear I’ll deck a woman for the first time in my life!”

  She bit him again.

  Hampered by having to hold her and desperately determined that she make no sound, Zach briefly considered his options. They weren’t promising. The last thing he wanted to do was knock her out. She was reacting fairly reasonably to her situation as she saw it, and had done nothing to deserve a forced nap. Besides, if Zach had any soft spot at all, it was for little women with more courage and temper than sense. Like her.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he repeated, switching to a soothing tone and managing to set her on her feet just long enough to pull a handkerchief from his pocket. Before she could start kicking again, he distracted her by removing his hand from her mouth and quickly replacing it with the handkerchief. He had her gagged in just a few seconds and had her back off her feet before she could give vent to her renewed rage.

  The sounds she made now were muffled and unintelligible, which was all he could hope for; he was silently praying the noises reached no more than a few yards in any direction. He had to work quickly and quietly, and his mind was racing over those few options.

  He couldn’t let her go even if he could get the car running again. In her mood, she was sure to drive straight to the nearest town—a scant ten miles away—and report her encounter with a murderous fiend on the roadside. Even if he could explain his behavior, which he couldn’t, he didn’t dare attract attention. He couldn’t tie her up and leave her in the car; if anyone found her, it would likely be the wrong people. And if he kept her with him, she was sure as hell going to prove a royal pain in the rear—whether or not he could convince her he was on the side of the angels.

  Lousy options.

  Swearing softly and being unconsciously fierce about it, Zach finally managed to wrestle her over to a slender tree and used his belt to bind her wrists together behind it. Then, ignoring the blue-tinted noises coming from behind the gag, he approached the car and used his pencil flashlight to check it out. The rusting Impala was over twenty years old; it didn’t take Zach five minutes to realize the car had died and that its resurrection depended on nothing less than a new engine.

  He stood
beside it for a moment, gazing thoughtfully in the dark down the straight stretch of road. Finally, with a philosophical shrug, he reached inside and got the keys. The unlocked trunk revealed a couple of swollen suitcases, which he retrieved and put by the side of the road. Then he got in and methodically went through the car, gathering every shred of paper he could find and stuffing them into the pocket of his flannel jacket.

  There was a large leather handbag inside, as well as a thermos and a tote bag filled with various snacks, and he put those by the side of the road. Just to be sure, he also searched beneath the seats and under the floor mats. He found a roll of electrician’s tape in the glove compartment and used that to lock the steering wheel in place, then knocked the car out of gear and released the emergency brake.

  He got out and went around to the rear of the car, standing still for a long moment as he listened. Sound carried in the mountains, and he knew he’d hear if another car was within miles. There was no sound. Bending, he pushed hard, his considerable muscles bunching with the effort. The car began rolling, and thirty seconds later Zach watched the last faint glint of it disappear silently into the darkness.

  This stretch of road ended, he knew, in a gentle curve overlooking a small lake. The car wouldn’t make the turn. Several minutes passed before Zach heard the distant splash of something heavy finishing off a high dive into the lake in grand style.

  A muffled wail came from behind him, and Zach sighed as he loaded up the woman’s stuff and carried it into the woods. It didn’t take long to get the bags to his place. Minutes later, he was back at the tree, gazing at her. Despite highly developed night vision, he couldn’t see much, but judging by her movements, the lady was still furious.

  He couldn’t really blame her.

  He was more worried at the moment, however, by their proximity to the house. He glanced in that direction, relieved to find no light shining through the trees. With any luck at all, he decided, they hadn’t made enough commotion to attract attention.

  Wondering what in heaven’s name he was going to do with her, Zach unfastened the lady’s wrists, avoiding her kicking and managing to get her away from the tree. He bound her wrists behind her back again, then hoisted her easily over one shoulder. It was simple to hold both her tiny ankles and prevent her from kicking him, but her struggles slightly upset his balance. He slapped her smartly on the rear with his free hand, muttering softly, “Be still!” Not that she did; an indignant note was now added to the furious sounds still emanating from behind the gag.

  He carried her through the woods and away from the house and road. Within moments they were deep into the forest. Zach could move quickly and quietly, especially for a man of his size and weight. He slowed at last, pushing his way through a tangle of undergrowth, ivy, and brambles that hid a small rickety cabin. He opened the surprisingly well-fitted door and carried her inside, closing the door behind them.

  It was pitch dark inside, but he moved unerringly across the small room and dropped her gently onto a wide, sturdy cot. Then he double-checked to make certain the heavy shades still guarded the two small windows before he turned on a large, battery-powered lamp. The light was strong, and Zach turned with a great many misgivings to contemplate his unexpected—and unwelcome—guest.

  The first thing he noticed was her hair. There seemed to be a great deal of it for so tiny a woman, and it was such a bright red as to seem unreal. Above the strip of white linen guarding her mouth was a delicate nose sprinkled with freckles and large, spaniel-brown eyes. Her eyes dominated her face, giving her a waiflike appearance. Her skin was the creamy white of a true redhead, and though she was certainly a small woman, Zach knew there were quite a few eye-catching curves beneath her heavy sweater and jeans. He’d felt them.

  She wasn’t beautiful, but there was something endearingly sweet and fresh about her face. Cute. She was cute, he decided judiciously. She was also, he realized, staring at him in alarm. Fear.

  He didn’t have to ask what had altered the rage to fear even as he’d turned to face her. The scar. He never quite forgot he bore that scar, even though he wasn’t self-conscious about it. The thin silver mark ran from the corner of his left eye to his jaw, and though it wasn’t disfiguring, he knew it lent his face a look of menace, perhaps even cruelty.

  Especially in a situation like this.

  Zach sighed a little and moved to sit on the edge of the cot. She didn’t shrink away from him, but he could feel her stiffen. He untied the gag, then released her wrists. He spoke finally, keeping his voice even and calm.

  “I said I wouldn’t hurt you, and I meant that. But you’ve stumbled into something dangerous, and I can’t let you go until it’s all over.” He glanced down to watch her massaging her wrists, and felt a pang of regret when he saw the red marks that the belt had left on her white skin.

  Frowning a little, he got up again and went over to unearth a first-aid kit from a cluttered shelf by the door. He opened the kit and found a tube of salve, then carried it back to the cot and sat down again. “Here—” He reached for her wrist.

  Instantly, she drew away from him until her back was against the wall. And for someone who’d sworn steadily for so long, she was surprisingly silent now.

  Zach’s face settled into its habitual bland expression. He dropped the tube onto the blanket at her side. “Use that on your wrists,” he said impersonally. “It’s a commercial first-aid cream.” He rose and went over to where her bags were piled under one window, picking up the thermos. Finding reasonably hot coffee inside, he poured some into the plastic cup and carried it to her. “It’s your coffee,” he reminded, still impersonal. “And you may have noticed I neither drugged nor poisoned it.”

  After a moment she sat up and gingerly took the cup from his outstretched hand.

  Zach watched her sip the liquid, still bothered by both her red wrists and the wary alarm in her eyes. “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he said finally in a softened tone. “I’d let you go right now, but it could be dangerous for you. And don’t let the scar fool you—I’m not as mean as I look.”

  Her eyes flickered, and her gaze slid away from his to stare at his cheek. She seemed surprised. And she sounded both surprised and curiously annoyed when she finally spoke.

  “I didn’t even notice that. It’s hardly visible.” Her voice, robbed of the fire and brimstone, was musical, faintly husky.

  Zach was surprised. “Then why did you suddenly look afraid when I turned to face you?”

  She pointed at him and grimaced. “That.”

  He looked down and saw that his flannel jacket had fallen open to reveal the gun he wore in a shoulder holster. “Oh.” He looked back at her, smiling a little. “I’d forgotten.”

  She continued to look wary, but something seemed to have eased her mind. “How could you forget a gun that big?”

  “You get used to it.”

  After a moment she said in a small voice, “Tell me you’re a cop.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No badge?”

  “No badge.”

  “But you aren’t going to hurt me?”

  “I swear.”

  Her gaze wandered around the room, settling on the jumble of electronic equipment weighing down a makeshift counter. She recognized what looked like a portable computer, but there was nothing else she could identify. She thought vaguely that the square things on the floor could be batteries. Maybe. And there was something that might have been a radio, complete with headphones.

  The remainder of the room was also filled with equipment—and other things. There were two rifles propped against a wall, with boxes of ammunition stacked beside them. There was a small refrigerator and a butane stove and some kind of heater that whirred softly. Open shelves revealed canned goods and other foodstuffs, along with stacks of paper plates and plastic cups and utensils. The battery-powered lamp sat on a small wooden table boasting two sturdy-looking chairs. There was a sink with an old manual pump, and there was the bed she
sat on.

  It looked like this man had been here for a while. And that he was ready for just about anything, including a siege.

  Teddy looked back at him finally, trying to weigh her various impressions. He was definitely an intimidating man, partly because of his sheer size and the raw power he exuded. His voice was soft and effortless, and his gray eyes were serene—deceptively so, she thought. And though that rugged face was bland, it was also hard.

  What on earth had she stumbled into?

  “Why would it be dangerous for me if you let me go?”

  “It’s ten miles to the nearest town.”

  Teddy was frowning a little, working only on instinct as she tried to read his expressionless face. “That isn’t what you meant.”

  Zach had been prepared for a kind of “prisoner of war” reaction from her, something he was familiar with. He’d expected a logical progression in her reactions to being held against her will. First, the frightened silence and suspicion of his every move. Then nervous questions and promises that she wouldn’t tell anyone about him. When that didn’t work, she’d be quiescent for a while before attempting to escape. Failing to escape, she’d be enraged and frustrated by helplessness.

  And if he was forced to keep her prisoner long enough, her reaction would be one that would make him despise himself. There would be a gradual progression to shock, apathy. There would also come a time when she would likely develop a sort of emotional dependence on him; he had seen it happen. And that final response could easily leave more scars on the “kidnapper” than the victim.

  He had known that to happen too.

  Zach didn’t want any of those things to take place. And he was somewhat encouraged because after her first rational fear passed, she seemed more curious and thoughtful than anxious. It would, he knew, be greatly to her benefit if she could accept the situation calmly and feel relatively unthreatened by it. If he could keep his own attitude low-key and reasonable, maybe they’d both get out of this all right. Maybe.