“My truck’s just down this hill.”
Hail pinged the windshield as she drove out from under the covered circle drive.
“Holy smokes.” She looked at him. “I hope you got renter’s insurance.”
“I like living on the edge.”
Lightning popped in the sky.
“Geez, do I need to worry about a tornado or something?”
“In this place? No way. The basement is solid rock.”
“I mean, is there a warning or anything?”
“Doubt it.” Although he hadn’t checked the weather in hours.
She rolled to a stop behind his truck. “Be careful.”
He laughed and jumped out. Hail hammered the top of his head, a few pellets sliding past his collar as he jogged around to his truck—and stopped dead in his tracks. His eyebrows slowly lifted.
He wasn’t going anywhere.
All four of his tires had been slashed.
CHAPTER 14
Gwen frowned as she peered through the blurry windshield. Why had he stopped all of the sudden? What was he staring at? She flicked on the high beams. The wipers made a pathetic swipe against the windshield, clearing just enough to make out the steely look in his eyes.
Something was wrong.
She followed his gaze and peered over the steering wheel. Her mouth dropped. Wesley Cross’s expensive, jacked-up truck was sitting on four flat tires.
What the hell?
She watched him slowly walk around the truck as the rain pounded his shoulders. His jaw was set, his fists clenched at his side. He squatted down at each tire, then jumped into the cab, rummaged around for a minute and then slid something in the back of his pants before grabbing a flannel shirt from the passenger seat.
A gun?
He climbed out, took one more circle around the truck, then got into the SUV.
“What happened?”
“Someone slashed my tires.”
“What? No. Are you sure it’s not just flats?”
“It’s a thin slice on the side of each tire.” He looked at her. “And besides, four flats at the same time?”
She looked away. Okay, that was stupid. “Who would do that?”
He glanced over his shoulder at the hotel, all lit up at the top of the hill. “I’m not sure, but I intend to find out.”
She looked at his waistband where he’d tried to hide the fact that he'd grabbed a gun. “I saw you take a gun from the glovebox.”
He ignored her comment as he stared at his truck, deep in thought.
“Why a gun?”
His gaze cut to her. “Better safe than sorry. Okay, let’s—
“You think this is connected with Leena.”
He let the comment hang in the air, and she got the feeling he wasn’t telling her something.
“Either way, whoever the hell slashed my tires is in that hotel.” He said.
“Meaning… whoever killed Leena is possibly in the hotel.”
Avoiding her question, he pulled out his cell phone. He definitely wasn’t telling her something.
She stared at him as he dialed, trying to process everything that was happening, but more so, trying to understand the man sitting next to her. Handsome, charismatic, happy-go-lucky, bull-headed. But from the moment she’d told him her theory about the murder weapon, she saw glimpses of the military man Jessica had told her about—a relentless, take-no-prisoners man on a mission that not even a thousand bullets could stop. And now, with the gun securely on his hip, it was as if he’d dealt with countless situations like this before. As if he was almost comfortable in this kind of scenario.
The call connected and she listened intently to his side of the conversation.
“Dean, it’s Wesley… not good, man. My tires have been slashed… yep… Half Moon Hotel… don’t worry about that, but I want to get this on record… yeah, send Willard out here, and I’m going to need a ride… … what?… you’re fucking kidding…” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “… okay… Hey, I need you to look into something for me. Might be a long shot, but… okay… no shit? Alright, will do. Be careful out there. Bye.”
“What’s going on?”
He paused, keeping his gaze on his truck. “We’re trapped on the mountain.”
“What?”
“Yep. The river flooded and collapsed the bridge.”
Her eyes flew open in shock. “You’re freaking kidding.”
“My words exactly. More or less.”
She felt her pulse skyrocket. “You’re joking.”
“Nope. They officially closed the mountain.”
“Are you telling me there’s only one way up the mountain, to this hotel?”
“Yep. And it’s flooded.”
“Wow. This is…” She laughed a humorless laugh and shook her head.
A moment of silence ticked by.
“What now?” She asked.
He nodded to the far side of his truck. “Park there.”
“There’s no spot.”
“Sure there is; just park in the grass.”
“On the edge of the woods?”
“Yep.”
“I’d have to hop the curb.”
He slid her a glance. “Need me to handle this for you, Miss Reece?”
She rolled her eyes, then carefully edged around his truck and bumped over the curb. Branches swiped the side of the vehicle—the rental car that he was paying for—but he didn’t seem to care. She shoved it into park, pushed the emergency brake and turned to him.
“Wes, what are you doing here?”
“Well, I’m helping you park your vehicle.”
“I mean, here, here. The hotel. You said you were following up on some things.”
“That’s right.”
She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “You’re not telling me something, again, and I want to know what it is. Right now.”
She stared at him as he continued to look forward. Finally, he said, “Leena was wearing a bracelet when I found her. A bracelet I got for her. Except when I looked closely, I noticed a small cross pendant on it, loosely tied on, that wasn’t there when I got it for her.”
Gwen's eyebrows tipped up.
He continued, “I took it to a friend, a jeweler, who told me the green gemstone in the center of the cross is something called Chrome Diopside, only found in Russia. And she only knew of one place around here that sells jewelry with the gemstone.”
“Here.”
“Yep.”
“Where your tires were just slashed.”
“Yep.”
“You think you were lured here.”
“Yes.”
“By Leena’s murderer.”
He nodded. “He baited me. Killed her in my basement, put the pendant on the bracelet I got for her. He knew I’d find it, and it led me here.”
“But why here... and who...” her voice trailed off.
He paused. “Do you remember the murders here, five years ago. Two young women…”
Her eyes rounded as she cut him off. “Taken from a hiking trail, drugged, tortured and eventually shot to death.” A shiver swept over her arms. “Yeah, I remember. It was all over the news.”
“Well, I had a hand in getting the guy who did it locked up.”
“What do you mean a hand?”
He told her the story that happened at his sister’s shooting range years ago.
She sat in silence for a moment, then said, “But why do you think he’s associated with the cross?”
“Mikhail Lutrova is Russian. A proud Russian. Has the flag tattooed on his arm, even. Anyway, I spoke with the woman who runs the jewelry store downstairs, who told me that someone purchased a cross pendant with Diopside three days ago.”
“Three days ago?”
“Yes.”
“And Leena died two days ago.” Thunder boomed, rattling the windows. A chill tickled up her spine like fingertips tapping, warning her, pushing her to run. “Did she tell you anything
else?”
“No.”
“Not even if it were a man or woman?”
“Nope.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. “He’s still locked up, right?”
“For life, yeah.”
“So… why do you feel so sure it’s him. I mean, yeah, I see the Russia coincidence, but still…”
He turned to her with an intensity that had her spine straightening.
“Because, Gwen, the day I called the cops on him was exactly five years ago, today.”
“What?”
“Yeah.”
“Today?”
“Yeah.”
“But… he’s locked up.” Her voice pitched. “How the hell…?”
“I don’t know. Could have someone else doing this for him. I don’t know.”
“Someone else delivering his revenge?”
“Your guess is as good as mine at this point. So there you have it. There’s your story. That’s why I’m here.”
“You’ve got to tell Dean.”
“I will. I just tried to tell him, but he got a call about a body found and had to go. Probably someone drowned in this damn rain.”
She took a deep breath. “Thank you for telling me.”
He nodded as another boom shook the windows.
She leaned forward, looked up at the sky, and in a grim voice asked, “So what now...”
“Stay here, lock the door. I’ll be right back.” He slid the red plaid button-up over his T-shirt to conceal his gun.
“Wait, what’re…” But it was too late, he was out the door and jogging up the hill. She locked the door and watched in the rearview mirror as he disappeared around the side of the hotel. Seconds later, he emerged in a covered golf cart. A grin spread across her face. It might not have been an overcoat over a puddle, but definitely just as romantic. Possibly, more so.
He stopped at the back of the SUV and nodded for her to get in.
She tried to hide her grin, got out and jumped into the cart. Sideways rain whipped inside as they started up the hill.
“How did you know this was there?”
“Noticed it when I parked. Lucked out that the keys were in it. Sorry there’s no side cover.”
“Are you kidding? We’d be swimming without this thing. But, why didn’t you just take me to the front door, then park the car yourself? If you were going to go to this much trouble anyway.”
He hesitated. “I just want to get my head around what’s going on before…”
“Before what?”
“Before I let you out of my sight.”
The implication of the statement had a lump forming in her throat. “Do you think I’m in trouble?”
“No, but you’ve been seen with me. Whoever slashed my tires, saw us talking.” He pulled under the circle drive and stopped at the steps.
“But, that doesn’t necessarily—
He cut her off, turned fully toward her. “How do you feel about going to the ball tonight?”
Her eyebrows shot up as she realized he was serious. “Uh… no. I’m not exactly in a party mood.”
“It’s not to party.”
And then she got it. Whoever was out to get Wesley would possibly be at the ball later.
“I see.” She looked down. “Well, I don’t think my hiking boots are appropriate attire…”
“We’ll get you a dress downstairs.”
“Uh, well, I don’t dance, Wes.”
He smiled, a twinkle in his eye. “Everyone dances.”
“Says who?”
“Says me. Just takes breaking out of that shell of yours a bit.” He tapped her arm. “No pun intended.”
“Shell… bugs, I get it.” She chewed her lower lip and before she could come up with another excuse, he hopped out of the cart, walked around to her side and held out his hand. He leaned in and whispered. “Don’t mention what just happened to anyone. Just act like everything’s cool, okay?”
She nodded, clasped his hand and despite the unease brewing in her belly, got out of the golf cart and tried her best to act “cool.”
As they walked around the cart, a red pickup in the distance snagged Wesley’s attention. The running lights glowed through the blur of rain, and she could just barely make out the dark silhouette behind the steering wheel.
Wesley cleared his throat, snapping her attention back to him. He smiled a casual smile. “Shall we?”
He was minimizing what was happening around them, for her. So she wouldn’t worry. Wouldn’t be upset. Or scared. But she knew it was all a show.
She took a deep breath, nodded, and fell into step with him up the stairs. They pushed through the front door as two, drunk, dolled-up, giggling girls stepped off the elevator. The blonde, wearing a skin-tight sweater, mini-skirt, and bright red cowboy boots stopped laughing immediately when she saw Wesley. Her eyes narrowed, her lip curled to a snarl, then she looked at Gwen, giving her an ice-cold stare before looking back at Wesley. The pissed-off cowgirl squared her shoulders and stomped across the room, with the other close on her heels.
“Who’s this?” The blonde demanded, addressing Wesley.
Gwen’s eyebrows arched. “I’m Gwyneth Reece. You are?”
The blonde narrowed her eyes. “Kaylee Rhodes, and this here’s Lydia Hess.” She looked Gwen over. “Don’t believe we’ve met.”
“No, we haven’t.” Gwen narrowed her eyes. “I’m sure I’d remember those boots.”
Wesley grinned beside her as Kaylee looked down at her feet, trying to decide if Gwen had just delivered a compliment or a thinly veiled insult.
Before the girl’s head exploded, Gwen said, “I’m not from here. From Austin.”
“Oh really?” Kaylee looked at Wesley. “Dipping your toes in different area codes? What happened, all dried up here in Berry Springs?”
“Kaylee,” Wesley said with an even tone. “I think it’s time to be on your way.”
Lydia grabbed Kaylee’s arm. “He’s right. Sam’s supposed to meet us at the bar.”
A devilish smirk crossed Kaylee’s face. “You remember Sam, right? Was my roommate for a while.” Still addressing Wesley, she looked at Gwen and said, “You met her when you picked me up for our first date.” She paused. “I used to date your little boyfriend here. Before he started seeking out foreigners.”
Gwen cocked a brow and meeting the blonde’s wicked tone said, “He’s not my boyfriend, and if you consider Austin, Texas, foreign, I need to get you a map.”
Wesley laughed as Lydia dragged Kaylee away.
“If those are the kind of women you date, I can certainly see why you’re still single.”
“I was young and dumb.”
“Yeah, she’s hell on wheels.” Gwen shook off the icy interaction, then looked around, taking a mental image of every face. Every face belonging to someone who could’ve slashed Wesley’s tires. Every face, someone who could have killed Leena Ross.
Melanie sat behind the reception desk, texting on her cell phone. In the corner of the lobby, a woman with wild, curly black hair in a fitted maid’s uniform—unbuttoned just enough to see her voluptuous cleavage—mopped up shoe prints from the shiny hardwood floors. She looked up and zeroed in on Wesley, and instantly, a small, shy smile crossed her lips before she quickly looked back down. Gwen rolled her eyes. The bickering couple they’d passed on their way out stood impatiently next to the elevator, the wife wiping her designer jacket with a sour expression on her face. The man, also dressed in an expensive-looking suit, rested his hand on a cart packed with four bags of matching luggage, a logo she’d seen in the latest issue of Vogue. An older man in a golf cap sat reading the newspaper, and she noted that James, the bellman, was nowhere in sight.
Wesley, who had been scanning the faces as well, grabbed her hand and led her to the front desk.
Melanie looked up from her phone. “Hi, again.” She smiled at Wesley, then frowned. “Oh, my God, you’re soaked.”
So was Gwen, but of course the girl didn’
t notice.
“Hey, do you know where the bellman is? James?”
Melanie glanced at the front door. “Oh, um, I think he’s on his dinner break. He’ll be back soon. Can I help you with something?”
Wesley tossed the golf cart keys on the counter. “No, I just borrowed this. Wanted to return it. What’s James’s last name again?”
“O’Connor.”
“That’s right. One more thing. You mentioned there aren’t very many people staying here this evening?”
“Right.” She clicked a few keys on the computer. “Just the staff, a thin staff tonight, and… eight others, excluding your friend.” She glanced at Gwen.
“Thanks, Melanie.”
“No problem.” Her gaze trailed down to Wesley’s muscular chest, outlined by his drenched T-shirt, which Gwen had already noticed. “Do you need a towel or anything?”
“Naw, I’m good.”
“Okay. The maid, Elise, can get those clothes washed for you. Do you want me to call her up?”
“No, thanks.”
“Okay, then.” She smiled. “You really should consider the ball tonight.”
“You know, I think we might.”
“Great. I hope to see you there, then.”
“Thanks, Mel.” He turned from the counter and grabbed Gwen’s hand. His grip was firm and commanding, and a mix of emotions had her brain fogging. She was trapped on the top of a mountain in a creepy hotel during a raging thunderstorm, quite possibly with a murderer lurking in the shadows. But she was trapped with him, with Wesley Cross, who gave her butterflies every time he touched her. Every time he looked into her eyes. Hell, every time he said her name.
At that moment, she realized that even with everything unfolding around them, she felt safe. With him.
He guided her across the lobby, keeping her hand close to his hip. She glanced up at him as the emotions jumbled in her head. He looked down at her, and the tight expression on his face softened. He smiled. “Let’s get you that dress, Gwen.”
CHAPTER 15
Thirty minutes, two glasses of Champagne, and one black velvet dress later, Gwen stood on a red-carpeted raised platform encircled with mirrors, gazing at the reflection staring back at her. Her eyes widened.
“Bellissima.” The owner of the dress shop and part-time makeup artist, Sally, smiled, obviously pleased with her creation. And creation it was. Gwen almost didn’t recognize herself.
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