Deadline (Love Inspired Suspense)

by Maggie K. Black

  A gloved hand grabbed Jack’s wrist, and clamped down hard. The hood fell back, revealing a man in a black ski mask underneath. For a second Jack froze, and then he felt blood pounding hot and fierce in his heart. Jack wrenched his hand back, clenching his first and threw a punch into the man’s masked face. “Meg! Run!”

  But the words had barely left his mouth when he saw the flash of metal in the killer’s hand and felt the sharp sting of a knife blade slice into his skin.

  THIRTEEN

  Jack’s shout echoed through the store. Meg froze. She clamped her hand over her mouth to keep herself from shouting back and pressed herself back into the rack of life jackets. Her ears strained for his voice.

  A grunt. A cry of pain. The sound of a shelf tipping over.

  Where were they? Could she make it through the store to the front door without getting killed? And if she ran, what would happen to Jack? Help us, Lord. Help Jack. Help me know what to do. She slid her phone from her pocket and dialed nine-one-one, wincing as the sound of it ringing filled the air.

  “Nine-one-one Emergency.”

  “This is Meg Duff,” she hissed. “I’m in Extreme Sports Plus on Main Street. Someone’s broken into the store.” She closed her eyes. “Jack Brooks is here with me, and I think he’s been attacked. Send the police. And an ambulance. It’s life or death.”

  “Can you describe what’s happening?”

  No. She couldn’t see. That was the problem. That and as long as she was holding the phone to her ear she couldn’t possibly defend herself against whatever was out there, or help Jack. “Hurry!”

  She hung up, then crawled through a wall of life jackets until she reached the end of the rack. She took a deep breath and climbed up to the top of a shelf of camping gear.

  Her eyes searched the aisles. Then she saw them. The Raincoat Killer and Jack were locked in a desperate struggle for control. Jack was the stronger fighter. But it was clear he was on the defense, dodging and swerving to avoid the cruel, jagged edge of the killer’s hunting knife. Fishing lures and netting spilled around them, nothing Jack could use as a weapon. Not against a knife anyway. But maybe she could help even the fight.

  She braced her feet on the top of the shelf and gripped a low-hanging ceiling beam with one hand for balance. Then she grabbed a heavy kerosene lamp off the shelf, swung it around like a shot put and let it fly. It crashed into the rack behind them.

  The Raincoat Killer’s head snapped up toward her. Through the ski mask she could see his pierced lips part in a snarl. Good luck climbing up here to get at me. She paused in her tracks just long enough to watch as Jack sent a crushing blow into the back of the figure’s head. Blood dripped from the killer’s mouth. But the knife still hadn’t left his grasp.

  The killer swore loudly. He swung toward Jack. His blade flashed through the air.

  She knew that voice. Why did she know that voice?

  No time to think. She ran down to the end of the shelf, leaping over equipment and ducking under ceiling beams. A canoe and paddles hung in the air above her, suspended on interlocking chains. Guess she just had to hope Benji had used a solid anchor. She grabbed the side of the canoe and leapt, slithering into it on her stomach. The canoe swung wildly beneath her. She gritted her teeth and yanked a paddle from its mooring. “Jack! Up here!”

  His eyes met hers. Strong. Unflinching. He pelted down the aisle toward her. The killer pounded after him. She let the paddle fly. The chains around her creaked. Jack caught the paddle by the shaft. The killer’s knife flashed through the air, its blade aimed right between Jack’s shoulder blades. But planting his feet, Jack spun backward, paddle gripped in both hands like a baseball bat. He swung and caught his assailant in the jaw. Jack’s attacker dropped to the floor. The knife flew from his hand and skittered under the shelves.

  The chains holding the canoe to the ceiling gave way. A desperate prayer slipped from Meg’s lips. The canoe fell. It crashed nose-first into the floor, tossing her out like a rag doll. Jarring pain filled her body.

  For an agonizing moment, she lay there, unable to will her aching body to move. The back door slammed.

  A strong hand brushed against her cheek “Meg?” She opened her eyes. Jack was kneeling on the floor beside her. “Are you all right? Can you move?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I think so. Just sore.” She slowly pulled herself up to sitting. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Just a couple cuts and bruises.”

  “And the killer?”

  “He got away. But he left the knife behind.”

  Meg let out a sigh of relief as she realized Benji’s surveillance cameras would have caught the whole thing. She pressed her palms into the floor and tried to stand, but her shaking limbs refused to cooperate. She tried again, only to feel tears stream treacherously down her face.

  “Hey, it’s okay. Just give your body a minute.” He brushed the tears from her cheeks, then pulled her into his arms. “I’m just thankful you’re okay. That was the gutsiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “You needed some help to defend yourself. It was the fastest way. I figured, if need be, I could stay up there and hide until the police arrived to rescue me.” She let her body curl against him. She could feel his heartbeat racing through his chest. “Would have been even better if the canoe hadn’t fallen off the ceiling.”

  He chuckled. His lips brushed across the top of her head. “You are one of the bravest people I’ve ever met. You might have saved my life, you know.” His face was so close she could feel his breath her neck.

  She shivered. “You seemed to be doing just fine.”

  “It was like knowing you were somewhere in the store, in danger too, made me fight harder than I’ve fought against anything in my life.” He brushed his lips along her hairline. “It made me feel stronger. Like I could take on an army of killers single-handedly if that’s what it took to keep you safe.”

  Blood was seeping through his sleeve. A sob rose in her chest. If he hadn’t been thinking of her, would he have managed to escape without getting hurt? Ever since she’d met him he’d been in danger, and it was always because he was trying to protect her. How many times would he keep on throwing himself into harm’s way for her before it finally caught up with him?

  Sirens wailed in the distance. She pushed him back. “Thank you for protecting me. But I need you to stop. Okay? Please. Don’t keep risking your life because of me.” She forced her body to stand. “You’re not the police, Jack. You’re not my brother. Let alone my personal bodyguard. I think you should go back to Toronto. I think you should drop this story and forget you ever met me. For your own sake.”

  Red-and-blue lights filled the window, sending waves of light over the confused, hurt depths of Jack’s eyes. Her knees buckled, and for a moment she thought she was about to tumble back into his arms. Instead she turned and ran to open the door for the officers.

  FOURTEEN

  A deep purple filled the clouds above her head. The fiery red sun disappeared into the lake below her feet. Meg stood alone on the second floor of the pavilion’s wrought-iron staircase. Beside her, sweeping doors led through to the second-story reception hall. Rachel and Wesley’s rehearsal dinner was in full swing. Meg, their wedding planner, was missing it.

  The wedding party had already been at the church with the pastor by the time she’d reached Benji on his cell phone. Her brother told her they’d gone ahead and started the rehearsal without her. There didn’t seem to be any point in interrupting them. When Officer Burne had arrived on the scene at the shop, he’d offered to call his daughter-in-law, Alyssa, the aspiring wedding planner, and ask her to go ahead to the pavilion and make sure everything was ready for the party. Meg had felt too numb to disagree.

  Should a young couple be forced to delay their wedding rehearsal because of something their wedding planner had been caught
up in? Should it impact their wedding? What if someone else was able to step in and keep things running smoothly? The more she turned the question around in her mind, the worse it sounded.

  It had taken the paramedics almost half an hour to conclude she had nothing more serious than a few scrapes and bruises. Then the police had questioned her for over an hour. Once again, they’d separated her from Jack, almost from the moment they arrived, and this time she’d been questioned by a nonislander, Detective Owen Ravine, who’d apparently been brought in from Toronto to help with the investigation. The experience was a whole lot different than being questioned by men she’d known all her life. He’d had a lot of questions about Jack and just how well she really knew him.

  Shivers ran up her arms. She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. When she’d dashed home to get changed, the emerald-green party dress and ivory wrap had seemed perfect for the muggy evening. Now it was all she could do to keep her arms from shaking. It had been like this when Benji was in the hospital. She’d always been cold, even in the heat of summer, with a chill in her arms that had never really left her.

  “Waiting for someone?” A warm voice floated up the staircase toward her. She looked down. Jack was coming up the stairs two at a time. He’d also changed and was now in simple tan slacks and a blue button-down. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine.” She forced a smile. “Clean bill of health. Benji got the surveillance tapes to the police. Insurance will cover any damage to the store. Everything’s just fine. Benji also swears the entire wedding party was with him on the boat this afternoon, so there’s no way either Duncan or Wesley could be the man who attacked you.” She frowned. “Unfortunately I’m also now two hours late for this wedding rehearsal. I’ll be lucky if Rachel doesn’t fire me.” She turned toward the door. But as she reached for the handle, she felt his hand touch her wrist.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She shrugged her shoulders lightly, but he didn’t let go. “Of course. I’m fine.”

  Jack took another step toward her. “No, you’re not. You shouldn’t feel you need to pretend you are either.” His fingers slid slowly up her arm, the simple gesture filling her with warmth. “No one would be fine after what you’ve been through.” His hand came to rest on her shoulder. “It’s okay to admit that.”

  She pressed her lips together as sudden tears rushed to her eyes. She blinked them back. If she started crying now, she’d never stop. “I’m not going to fall apart.”

  “No one’s asking you to. But you’ve been through more in a couple of days than most people go through in a lifetime. Most people wouldn’t even be standing, let alone still trying to keep someone else’s wedding going.” His fingers tenderly brushed along her shoulder blade, melting the tension from her limbs. “It’s okay to hit Pause for a moment and give yourself permission to be human.”

  She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and held it for a moment. It is well, it is well, with my soul.... She exhaled slowly. His gaze was still focused on her face with an affection and intensity that made her feel so safe and yet so afraid that if she wasn’t careful she’d just fall into his arms. It would be so easy to let her guard down, lean her body into his chest and let him be strong enough for the both of them.

  But he wasn’t her rock, her fortress or her anchor. He was just some daredevil reporter who was here today, and off chasing another life-threatening story tomorrow. She rolled her shoulders back. “There will be plenty of time to be human after this wedding is over.”

  She opened the door and walked into the rehearsal-dinner party. A few dozen people were milling around the beautiful wooden room, listening to the gentle strains of a jazz quartet and helping themselves to pastries from the dessert carts. Most of the guests were older islanders, friends of Rachel’s grandmother and members of prominent island families. She wondered how many would be gossiping about the death of old man McCarthy.

  The wedding party were off in a world of their own, the group of young people seemingly determined to avoid contact with anyone older than twenty-two. Duncan’s eyes were locked on his smartphone. Fiona was standing at the window, staring out at the beach, idly picking food off her plate. Rachel clutched her groom’s arm, a barely concealed sulk on her pretty pink lips. Meg found herself wondering, yet again, what kind of wedding Rachel and Wesley would have chosen for themselves if the lure of her family’s money hadn’t brought them to the island.

  “Oh, Meg!” Rachel’s voice echoed through the room, in a high-pitched shriek halfway between a cry and a shout. “You poor thing!” She waved a hand at the quartet. The music stopped cold. The young bride rushed toward her while the whole room seemed to turn en mass and stare at her. A flush rose to Meg’s cheeks. Rachel threw her arms around her and squeezed her so tightly it almost pinched. “When Alyssa told me about the break-in at the store, I couldn’t believe it! You would think a place like that would have better security!” Meg tried to slide out of her grasp. Rachel only let her go partway, gripping her shoulders, holding her at arm’s length. “I just hope none of this has any impact on the wedding tomorrow. It won’t, right?”

  Was she that selfish and shallow or just very, very young?

  Then Meg realized how pale Rachel’s face was beneath the immaculate makeup and that her hands were so tense they were almost shaking. Wesley was still standing, paralyzed, where his fiancée had left him. Rachel must be worried sick. Her groom seemed lost and confused. Guilt stabbed Meg’s heart. This was a woman whose mother had died and whose father had abandoned her. She’d probably been waiting her whole life for her wedding day, only to find it threatened by things beyond her control. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  “Of course it will be,” a commanding voice sounded in her ear. She turned. Malcolm Burne was standing by her shoulder, with a stunning, tall redhead. “Meg, I’d like you to meet my wife, Alyssa.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Alyssa practically gushed. Perfectly manicured hands grabbed Meg’s and held them. Officer Burne’s daughter-in-law was several years younger than Meg, with high cheekbones and a wide mouth. “I’m happy to help with anything you need. I’ve already told Rachel and Wesley I can step in and take over arrangements for tomorrow. From the looks of things here tonight, you’ve done such a good job of organizing everything, Meg, the wedding could practically run itself.”

  Meg planted her heels into the hardwood. A sick, unsettling feeling was crawling up the base of her spine.

  “In fact—” Malcolm’s hand fell on her shoulder “—as we told my father, Alyssa is happy to take on any other weddings you have coming up until you’re fully back on your feet again. As a cop myself, I assure you there’s nothing worse than feeling like you’re rushed into getting over trauma.”

  “Trauma!” Rachel practically shrieked. “What trauma? What happened? I thought it was just a break-in.” The scream seemed to unstick Wesley, who rushed across the room to join them, Fiona and Duncan on his heels.

  Meg turned toward her. “It’s nothing too serious. The paramedics checked me out, and I’m fine.”

  Alyssa’s unnaturally green eyes grew wide. Her husband, Malcolm, lifted one immaculate eyebrow. The couple shared a meaningful glance. Okay, so presumably they knew about what had happened at McCarthy’s last night, the attack on the ferry and what had just happened in the store. Was that all they knew?

  “Are you sure?” Rachel’s eyes suddenly latched on to Meg’s face, focusing on her with such intensity that Meg instinctively wanted to look away. “Is there something you’re not telling me? Is everything okay?”

  No. Everything is definitely not okay. I’m scared. I’m tired. Scratch that, I’m exhausted. All I want to do right now is curl up and cry. I’ve been terrified and terrorized by a killer in a raincoat. And I really don’t want to be your wedding planner.

  She shot a glance over to where Jack st
ill stood in the partially open doorway. He stepped through, letting the door swing shut behind him. A question echoed in his eyes. She looked away.

  A tight smile spread across her lips. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure your wedding is perfect.”

  Rachel grinned.

  Fiona screamed. Suddenly. Terribly. Her dinner plate smashed to the floor. Her hand shook as she pointed to where Jack stood, his back to the door.

  A figure in a raincoat was standing at the door behind him.

  * * *

  Jack turned. Disbelief filled his gut, even as his mind registered the tall, raincoat-clad figure standing just inches away, on the other side of a thin sheet of window glass. Despite Fiona’s scream of shock, she, Meg and the party guests were far enough away from the window that all they could probably see was a silhouette. But for Jack, it was all too clear. The same raincoat. The same black face mask. The bloody, pierced lip still visibly sore, damaged from the punch Jack had leveled earlier when he was fighting for his life. Bloodshot eyes so wide from drug abuse and rage their irises were all but gone.

  After all the care he’d shown getting his victims alone, surely the Raincoat Killer was too smart for a public stunt like this. Was he too angry to think straight? Too high on drugs and alcohol to even know what he was doing? So evil he no longer cared about being seen?

  Jack set his jaw. His hand clenched into fists. The killer’s eyes narrowed.

  Whatever his reason, he wasn’t going to get away this time.

  Jack yanked the door open. The killer turned and ran.

  Jack chased after him, pelting down the wrought-iron stairs. He could hear voices yelling behind him. Malcolm Burne shouted at him to stop.

  He didn’t stop. He didn’t even turn.

  He was a good twenty pounds of muscle larger than the young cop and he had a head start. He was only half a flight of steps behind the killer. Either he stopped the maniac or no one would. Jack threw himself down the stairs, barely feeling the steps under his feet.