I'll Never Stop

by Jessica Lynch

  In the not too far distance, something flashed out of the corner of her eye. The sign wasn’t lit up, but someone had used the same reflective paint that she saw on the Hamlet sign and the one for the Hamlet Inn she passed.

  Another flick of her wrist and the high beams found a wide wooden sign posted in front of a house. To her relief, Grace read:

  Ophelia of Hamlet

  Cozy Bed & Breakfast

  Open to All

  Look at that. Score one for that gruff yet enticing cop. She actually found the place.

  Grace parked out front. There wasn’t a driveway so she pulled up along the curb, her bumper nearly kissing that of the mint green coupe already stationed in front of the cobbled walkway.

  The structure beyond the walkway was a quaint Victorian-style house with red brick, a white trim, and a thick white railing that traversed the full length of the wraparound porch. A cozy porch swing sat invitingly on the far end. The front door was also white, though the bright red decorative O painted by hand stuck out at Grace even more than the sign had—and not in a good way. It looked like it was drawn in freshly spilled blood.

  She gulped, suddenly hesitant to turn her car off just yet. After all those hours racing to get here, the shimmery red paint had her almost ready to turn tail and head back to Dayton.

  Shake it off, Gracey, she told herself. It’s just paint. You’re gonna be safe.

  As soon as she got inside, that was.

  With a decisive yank, she killed the engine and pocketed her keys. Her luggage was in the trunk and she struggled to grab the two cases. She knew it was late—thanks to her detour, she was way later than she wanted to be—and she figured, if Lucas’s sister saw that she already had her luggage with her, she wouldn’t turn her away.

  It took a few minutes to lug the two heavy cases up the walkway, and then even more effort to carry them up the steps. Her heart was beating wildly, and she told herself it was from exertion rather than nerves as she pressed the doorbell.

  It was a lie, of course. The sign out front might have said open to all, but Lucas made it very clear that outsiders were, well, outsiders.

  Fingers crossed, she waited to see if anyone would answer the bell.

  The porch light switched on. A second later, the front door swung inward, revealing a man.

  He was tall and dark, with skin the shade of a deep, rich caramel. His black hair was cut close to his head, drawing attention to the sharp, chiseled cheekbones that highlighted his face. It was his eyes, though, that had her gawking more than anything else. They were striking, a lovely amber color that reminded her of a stray cat she’d once seen.

  “Can I help you?”

  His voice was warm and smooth. It suited him, and managed to knock Grace out of her sudden stupor.

  This man… this man was handsome. And, unlike the cop who gave her directions, she could appreciate it without wanting to jump him. Probably because of the guarded look in his beautiful eyes and the way he leaned into the doorjamb, blocking her from seeing into the house.

  One thing for sure, this wasn’t Maria De Angelis.

  She shook her head. “Yes. Hi. I’d like to rent a room.”

  “You’re an outsider.”

  “Um, yeah. I guess I am.” He said outsider like it was a curse. Grace was really beginning to regret this. “The sign says open to all,” she pointed out. “Is that true?”

  Before he could answer, a throaty voice with a noticeably exotic accent called out.

  “Sly, tesoro, is someone at the door?”

  The man—Sly—stayed where he was, watching Grace curiously. “Seems you have a guest.”

  Grace heard an excited squeal, saw Sly get shoved aside by a firm feminine hand, then watched as a dark-haired tornado came bursting out of the doorway.

  From the olive-toned skin to the black hair cascading down to the middle of her back, plus the shocking light blue eyes that made Grace wonder if they were natural, she knew that this was Maria De Angelis, Lucas’s sister. She was nearly as tall as her brother, and just as pretty.

  Apart from their voices—Maria had an obvious Italian accent, while Lucas’s tone was always short and clipped—there was one noticeable difference between the two siblings. Grace always got the feeling that Lucas tolerated her because Tessa seemed to enjoy talking to her on the few occasions they met in the hall.

  Within seconds of meeting her, she understood the final line on the sign. Open to All. This woman obviously meant it.

  “Welcome to Ophelia,” Maria said, a genuine warmth in her smile. Reaching out, she took Grace by the hands. “Welcome to Hamlet.”

  “Thank you.”

  Maria gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “Come in, miss…”

  “Delaney,” Grace told her. “My name is Grace Delancey. Call me Grace.”

  “Si, and I’m Maria.”

  That’s what she thought.

  “Come in, Grace. I’ve got plenty of vacancies and we can discuss how long you’ll be staying inside where it’s warm and cozy.”

  Payment too, Grace supposed. That was fine with her. Tommy’s diamond fetched more than enough to pay for her room here for as long as it took to find a permanent home. Right now, after her long drive and the shock of discovering the tracking device, Grace was ready to throw money at Maria if only to have a place to sleep in peace within the next ten minutes.

  Sly laid his palm on Maria’s upper arm as she let go of Grace and started to turn toward the open door. “You want me to stick around, help you get your guest settled?”

  Her head whipped around so fast, Grace nearly got slapped in the face with Maria’s hair. “What? No, Sly, no. You go back to the station, take care of your work. Don’t worry about us.”

  She said us. Grace had way too much experience with an overprotective male to know what Maria De Angelis was really saying.

  “Buzz me if you need me.”

  “Yes, yes, we’ll be fine. Now shoo!”

  He hesitated, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he ground his teeth together. Grace could tell that Sly didn’t want to go, but he wasn’t going to go against what Maria wanted, either. Her opinion of the man jumped up. Overprotective he might be, but he wasn’t like Tommy.

  Tommy would’ve never left her alone with a stranger, whether she told him to go or not.

  Leaning in, Sly pecked Maria on the cheek. “See you in the morning.”

  “Breakfast’s at eight.”

  “Sounds good, sweetheart.” The soft look he was wearing hardened up as he turned to look at Grace. His gaze narrowed, his brow furrowed as he bobbed his head over at her. “Evening, miss.”

  When it came to someone sizing her up, he had nothing on Boone. She matched his stare with a tight-lipped grin. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Same.”

  Grace felt a small sense of accomplishment when he blinked. As exhausted as she was, it was nice to win their little staring contest.

  Sly moved past her, jogging down the steps, spinning back to look up at the porch as soon as he hit the walkway. “Maria, I’ll call your radio when I get to the station. Carry it on you?”

  “I’ll go get it from the kitchen straight away.”

  “Love you.”

  Pursing her lips in his direction, Maria blew him a kiss as he climbed into the coupe parked in front of Ophelia. As the car came to life, she cupped her hands around her mouth and called, “Make sure you go easy on my car.”

  Sly honked the car horn twice before pulling away from the curb.

  Once he was out of sight, she laughed, a high-pitched sound at odds with her husky, accented voice. “Dio knows I love that man, but he does tend to fret. If he hadn’t promised to stop in at work, we never would’ve gotten rid of him tonight. Anyway, enough about that. You’re here, you’re my guest, and I’m sure you’re tired.”

  “Very,” Grace admitted. That was an understatement.

  Swooping down, Maria grabbed the larger of the two suitcases resting at Grace’s feet
. “Come, come, then. I’ll show you to your room. We can discuss all the other details later.”

  Taking the second one, Grace followed her into Ophelia.

  8

  Maria led her through the foyer and down the hall, stopping when they reached a closed door with the letter S drawn on it in a soft yellow paint. Against the dark stained wood, it shone like a beacon.

  “This is the Sunflower Room,” Maria said, pushing the door in and stepping aside. “I hope you like it.”

  Grace did. She really, really did.

  The room was big, more than twice the size of the bedroom she had in Dayton. A large queen-sized bed took up the center of the room. A lovely yellow and white quilt covered the mattress, with matching pillows and a ruffle that kissed the dark wooden floor. The floor was a match for the door, and the soft yellow paint was echoed in every accent of the room. The blinds, the light switch covers, the overstuffed armchair that took up the far corner. It was bright, it was cheery, it was sunny.

  She felt her tension melt away, her body lighten just from walking into the room and taking it all in.

  To top it off? A simple bouquet of three cut sunflowers wrapped in a soft yellow ribbon perched invitingly on the dresser. Grace could tell that they were plastic, a decoration that fit the color scheme and the name of the room. It didn’t matter. They weren’t viscaria and that’s all that counted.

  Maria hovered near the front of the door, waiting to see Grace’s reaction.

  “It’s gorgeous,” she said honestly.

  “Grazie.” Beaming at her guest’s approval, Maria brought Grace’s second suitcase into the room, setting it near the dresser. “I’m glad you like it. I’m sure, from Sly’s reaction—that was the handsome man you met at the door, my Sly—I’m sure you realize that it’s not so often we get visitors. It’s so nice to have a guest for Ophelia again.”

  “And I’m grateful you had a vacancy for me,” admitted Grace. It didn’t matter that Hamlet was such a small town—she’d spent half her drive worried about Tommy being right behind her, and the other half terrified that she’d get to Ophelia only to be turned away. “You came so highly recommended, I was worried you’d be full.”

  “Oh?” Dainty eyebrows crept up, hiding underneath the fringe of bangs. “If you don’t mind me asking, recommended by who?”

  That was right. The whole don’t tell anyone about Lucas thing that Tessa told her that morning. Whoops.

  Since she also wasn’t supposed to go blabbing about how Lucas and Tessa De Angelis went off and eloped after he moved away from Hamlet, Grace wasn’t too sure what she should tell Maria. In this case, she went with the better of two evils. If she admitted it was Tessa, Maria would know for certain that there was more to it than that.

  “Um, well, your brother, actually.”

  Maria blinked. Twice. “My brother?”

  “Yeah.”’

  “Lucas?”

  Grace nodded.

  “Lucas De Angelis? And you’re sure?”

  When she climbed out of her car and went to retrieve her luggage, Grace snagged Lucas’s instructions off of the passenger seat and shoved them in the front pocket of the smaller case. As Maria goggled at her, she reached into the pocket and grabbed them.

  She held them out to Maria. “Here. These are the instructions he gave me to find you.”

  “Well, yeah… Okay. It’s definitely a surprise, but I know my brother’s handwriting as well as my own. I just… it’s definitely a surprise. Whoa.” Maria ran her gaze over the sheet of paper in her other hand. A small grin tugged at her lips, but all she said was, “Anything you want to ask me?”

  Feeling uncomfortable under the weight of Maria’s curious stare, Grace shook her head.

  “Anything I should know?” Maria asked.

  Good question.

  It was the first lesson in Being Stalked 101. Whenever moving somewhere new, she was supposed to warn her new neighbors and acquaintances about Tommy: what car he drove, what he looked like, how high the likelihood was that he would follow her here.

  Black Jaguar.

  I used to think he was gorgeous.

  Way, way too high.

  Supposed to. She learned the hard way that it didn’t matter who she confided in, or who she warned. No one could help her. Anyone who tried only ended up getting hurt.

  Tommy didn’t like it when anyone interfered.

  Bad enough that she had to worry about what would happen if Tommy learned that Tessa and Lucas De Angelis had told her about Hamlet. Now that she had made it to Ophelia, she wanted to believe that he was a memory.

  That he couldn’t hurt her, or anyone else.

  He wouldn’t.

  She had to believe that.

  “No,” Grace lied.

  Maria nodded. “Well, then. Like I told my Sylvester, breakfast will be at eight tomorrow. Now, the locks will engage at nine, so—”

  “Locks? What locks?”

  “Lucas didn’t warn you about the locks?”

  Lucas didn’t warn her about anything. If he had it his way, Grace was sure that he would’ve kept Hamlet an even bigger secret. She couldn’t tell whether he was protecting the small town, or if he was hiding from it, but it was obvious that Lucas hadn’t wanted to send her there. That was all his wife.

  But she couldn’t explain any of that without digging herself into a big hole about how she knew the De Angelises. So she shook her head and said simply for the second time, “No.”

  “Oh, well. I guess I should explain before you decide if you want to stay here. Ophelia… she is not like other bed and breakfasts. Yes, she has a bed, and breakfast is promptly at eight each morning, but she is—” Maria hesitated, as if searching for the right word. “—more. You have Lucas to thank for most of it, including the locks.

  “It’s a simple set-up, but it keeps us secure. Locks automatically engage at nine, then all of the doors open again at seven in the morning. It’s almost impossible to do anything about them once they’re set, so if you need to come and go between those hours, please let me know in advance. I can’t turn them off, but I can delay them a little.”

  Wait a second.

  Wait a second—

  Did this woman just tell her that she’d booked a room in a bed and breakfast with such sophisticated security that it was locked up tight every evening until morning and no one could get around it? Sure, Maria mentioned she could delay the timer, but the most important point Grace heard in her explanation was that there was no way to turn them off.

  Which meant that Tommy couldn’t. At least, not on his first try. She had no doubt in her mind that he’d figure out some way around it eventually. To know that it wouldn’t be easy?

  She couldn’t help it. She launched herself at Maria, wrapping her in a hug.

  No wonder Tessa was convinced that Ophelia would be a perfect place to hide. Even Lucas had reluctantly agreed. The small town could keep her hidden, the lack of cell service was a plus so that Tommy couldn’t use it to detect her location, but Ophelia? At night, when she was her most vulnerable, she could sleep soundly knowing that she wasn’t making it easy for him to get at her.

  Grace gave Maria a squeeze before realizing just how weird her reaction might be. She quickly released her, laughing awkwardly as she stepped back. “Sorry about that. I’ve, uh, had some bad experiences staying on the road.”

  Maria looked like she wanted to ask her about that. The woman had a very expressive face. Grace could read her curiosity and her concern.

  Her mind, tired and hazy and feeling the crash from the two cups of coffee she downed, started to spin as she tried to come up with some plausible excuse for why the idea of being locked in her rented room was a good thing. Should she lie and say she had a tendency to sleepwalk? Maybe blame it on a paranoia that her things had been stolen in the past?

  She refused to admit that she was desperate to make sure that a spoiled and ruthless rich man couldn’t sneak into her room. She just met Maria,
and she seemed like a sweet woman. Considering she lived in such a small town, she was probably a touch naive, too.

  Maria couldn’t understand.

  So what to tell her when she inevitably asked?

  To her relief, Maria didn’t ask. For a moment, she watched Grace closely, the curious expression morphing into a knowing look. Almost as if she could understand Grace’s reasons without having to pry.

  “Well, I’m glad you understand. Like I said, the locks will engage at nine. If you need to go out tonight—or any night—please let me know. See that box on the wall over there?”

  Grace followed Maria’s point. “The white one?”

  “That’s it. It’s an intercom. Since you’re new here, I take it you don’t have a radio?”

  That was the third time someone mentioned a radio. First the cop, then Sly, now Maria. She wasn’t exactly sure, but she got the idea they weren’t talking about a boombox.

  She shook her head.

  “I thought so. It’s okay. Instead of buzzing you, I can page you through the intercom. It works both ways, too. You need me for anything, you just press that little button on the side and my radio will start to chime.”

  Grace nodded, listening to what Maria said while deciding that she wouldn’t ever need to use the intercom. It might seem that she was an outsider, getting away from her city life, taking a trip into the small town because an acquaintance recommended it to her. In that case, she might bug her hostess if she needed to. As far as she was concerned, this was a room she was renting until she could come up with another plan.

  This wasn’t a vacation. This was survival.

  Then Maria went on to say, “Settle down, get yourself situated. I’ll let you know when dinner is ready,” and Grace understood that Lucas’s sister was going to play her role of hostess to the fullest.

  Oh, no.

  “Dinner? No, no, that’s okay. I’m just going to—”

  Before she could tell Maria that all she wanted to do was use the bathroom, wash up, and pass out until morning, a loud grumble cut her off. It took her a second to recognize that the sound was coming from her stomach.