by Cynthia Eden
Yes. No. Mostly. She wasn’t the dead one, so that was something. “He killed Steve.”
“What? Who the hell is Steve?”
She pointed to the body.
Mac swore.
She pulled from his arms and started running after her attacker. “We have to stop him!” They couldn’t let a killer just escape.
Mac raced at her side. There was a sharp turn up ahead, and then the alley opened up on another street. When they shot out of that alley exit, cars zipped by them, and a shrill honk filled the air. Mac’s hand wrapped around her waist, and he dragged her back when she was about to rush right into the traffic.
“Elizabeth, stop!” Mac ordered. “You have to be careful!”
She yanked free of him. “We have to hurry and find the guy!” She whirled around, searching the area. There were plenty of cars, more clubs and no sign of a man running away. No man with Steve’s blood on him and tears streaming down his cheeks.
The pepper spray would make the attacker’s eyes water. His face would be red. And since he’d stabbed Steve, he should be covered in blood.
But everyone on that street looked so normal.
She backed up and bumped into Mac. “Where is he?” He couldn’t get away. He’d killed that reporter. And if they didn’t find him...
I think he’ll kill me, too.
* * *
IT WAS NEARING DAWN. Most people in Austin were just getting ready to start a new day. Mac was in the office of McGuire Securities, but he wasn’t about to start his day.
He was still ending the night from hell.
He stared across his desk at Elizabeth. Her shoulders were hunched. Her skin was too pale. She was too quiet.
He’d stayed with her while the cops were called to that alley. He’d watched her retreat into a shell. He’d listened as she’d too carefully answered the questions from the detective who’d been lead at the scene.
I found the body. He was just...just lying there. His attacker grabbed me. No, I didn’t see his face. No, I don’t know anything about the victim. I can’t help you.
“Elizabeth.” He said her name now, deliberately, trying to pull her back to him. During the drive to the office, she’d sat in the passenger seat of his car, but she’d seemed a million miles away.
She still seemed that far away. And she hadn’t looked up at his call.
Mac rose from his chair and walked around his desk. He leaned over her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Elizabeth.”
She jumped and her eyes—so deep and dark—focused on his. He wondered if she might be in shock. It wasn’t every day that a person stumbled onto a murder scene.
Though he wasn’t exactly convinced that she’d just stumbled onto it.
“I should go home,” Elizabeth said, her voice a bit hoarse. “I don’t know why I even came here with you.”
He knew. Because she’d been dazed and lost in her own thoughts. The woman had been busy hiding her own secrets. “You need my help.”
A furrow appeared between her brows.
“I backed you up tonight,” he said, keeping his voice gentle for her, “even though I knew you were lying to the cops.”
She immediately tried to rise, but he carefully pushed her back into the chair.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Now Elizabeth was glaring at him. “Get your hands off me.”
Fine. He pulled his hands back, but he stayed close. “You knew that dead man. You told the cops you didn’t, but I heard you say ‘He killed Steve.’ And you flew out of your house like the place was on fire. You raced to that alley—you knew he was in there.”
She rose. This time he didn’t stop her. He also didn’t back up. Their bodies brushed. “You followed me,” Elizabeth accused.
“Guilty.” He just shrugged.
“Why? You can’t just...follow people.”
“I’m a PI. I follow lots of people.”
She licked her lips. He shouldn’t have focused so much on the delectable little flash of her tongue, not with everything else going on, but he did.
“Why were you following me?” She edged back a bit.
“Because I was worried about you. I wanted you safe.”
She shook her head. “You don’t know me.” Elizabeth headed for the door. “I don’t even know what I was thinking! I just left my car down there and—”
“You were thinking you wanted to get away. You were thinking that you could be next, and in case anyone might be watching, you didn’t want that jerk to see you leaving alone.” Well, that last one had certainly been his intent. It wasn’t his first murder, not even close. He knew killers. Sometimes he thought he knew them too well. And if the killer had been lingering in the crowd, hiding close by, he hadn’t wanted the guy to think that Elizabeth would be an easy target.
Her shoulders stiffened as Elizabeth glanced over at him.
“Someone is after you,” Mac said.
She didn’t speak.
“Dammit, I can help you! That’s what we do here at McGuire Securities. We investigate. We protect. You knew that guy was dead in the alley and—”
“I hoped he wasn’t.”
She was talking to him. Hell, yes. Now they were making some progress.
Elizabeth turned to face him. She ran a hand through her hair, tousling the thick mane. “I don’t trust you.”
He almost smiled. “I don’t trust you, either.” He wanted her, no doubt about that. But as far as trusting her? He’d just seen the woman lie to cops. That didn’t exactly inspire undying trust in him.
“I hadn’t seen or heard from Steve Yeldon in years. But as soon as I got home tonight, he called me.”
He stepped toward her. “If it had been years, then how’d he get your number?”
“He was a reporter! Don’t they have sources?” She waved that away. “He called me and said that we needed to meet. He told me to come to that alley. Said we had to talk.”
He waited, but Elizabeth didn’t tell him anything else. Mac sighed. “What did he want to talk with you about?”
“How should I know?” Her gaze cut away from his. “I’ve been here for about three months now. I mind my own business. I don’t get involved in any drama or dangerous situations and—”
He laughed. Mac just couldn’t help it.
Her cheeks reddened.
“You were attacked in your library. You ran into a dark alley and found a dead man.” He huffed out a breath. “That actually does count as dangerous. Two dangerous situations.”
She looked away, her gaze sliding to his window. Soon the rising sun would fill that window.
“Why did he want to talk with you?” Mac pressed again.
“I don’t know.” She sounded sincere. “Steve said that we could stop him. I don’t know who that mysterious him is or why we’d want to stop him.”
“If you didn’t know, then why did you go to the alley?”
Her gaze fell.
A dark suspicion swept over him. “Elizabeth?”
“Because Steve gasped on the phone.” Her gaze rose once more and met his. Sadness was in her dark stare. “There was pain in that sound. Fear. After that gasp, he didn’t say another word to me. The line went dead.”
Probably because Steve had been dead.
“I called back and someone else answered. He said...he said, ‘Steve can’t talk right now.’”
“What?” Shock rippled through him. “You talked to the killer? You didn’t mention that to the cops!”
She flinched. “That wasn’t all he said.”
This couldn’t get worse.
“He told me, ‘I’ll see you soon, Elizabeth.’”
He couldn’t help it. He grabbed her. His fingers curled around her
shoulders as he trapped her between his body and the door. “The jerk threatened you, and you didn’t mention this phone call to the cops? Why the hell not?”
She stared up at him, the fear plain to see in her eyes.
“You know the incident at the library is connected to this,” he said. “You have to know it.” Coincidences that big never happened.
Elizabeth nodded.
“Why won’t you go to the cops? Why won’t you tell them—”
“Cops didn’t believe me before. I don’t have the best experience with them.”
Before? Just how many secrets was the pretty librarian keeping from him?
“This isn’t your problem,” she said, swallowing. “I’m not your problem.”
Yes, you are. “Hire me.”
“I—I don’t have the money—”
“We can work out a deal.” He didn’t care about her money. He cared about her safety. Cared about getting rid of the fear in her eyes. “You need protection. You need help. Baby, you need me.”
“Did you...did you just call me baby?”
He had. A slip. Mac cleared his throat. “A killer has you in his sights. That’s plain to see. You won’t let the cops help you, then let me help you. You know what McGuire Securities can do.”
“I’ve heard some stories about your family,” she allowed.
Okay, that might not be the best thing. The stories that circulated about him and his brothers—those stories weren’t always the warm and cuddly sort. More like the type to give a person nightmares. “You want us on your side. Whatever is going on here, do you really want to face it alone?”
Her gaze lowered, and her long, dark lashes fell against her cheeks. He was aware right then of just how close he was to her. Their bodies brushed. His hands were still curved around her shoulders. He’d been secretly fantasizing about the woman for weeks—and now she was in his grasp.
Too bad it had taken danger and death to bring them together.
“Twenty-four hours,” he threw out, because he wasn’t going to let her leave that office without help. “Give me twenty-four hours to figure out what’s happening and to see if we can stop the creep out there.”
Her lashes lifted. “You’re going to take me back to the cops, aren’t you?”
Unfortunately, he was. Not that he trusted cops one hundred percent, either, not with his family’s track record, but... “You have to tell them about that phone call. Tell them what the guy said to you. If you don’t, you’re obstructing justice. You’re just making it harder for them to find the bastard we’re after.” He got it—she didn’t trust cops, but they didn’t have an option, not now. “I’ll stay with you, every minute. And then...”
“Then you want your twenty-four hours.”
He nodded. “Then I want you to start telling me some of the secrets you carry, and I want you to trust me and my family to keep you safe and to track down that killer.”
The drumming of his heartbeat filled his ears. Twenty-four hours. That wasn’t all he wanted, not by a long shot. But it was a start. Step one.
“Okay...”
Satisfaction burned through him.
“But I have to pay you. Some way, I’ll pay you.”
“We’ll get to payment later. For now we have a detective who we need to call.”
* * *
“IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE?” the blonde detective asked Elizabeth, her light blue eyes holding more than a hint of suspicion. “Because if the caller said anything else to you...”
“He didn’t,” Elizabeth told her quickly. The last hour had been spent in Mac’s office while Detective Melinda Chafer asked question after question. At least she didn’t make me go to the station.
And had Mac been right before? Was it technically obstruction since the cops at the scene of the murder had never asked Elizabeth about the phone call? She didn’t think so, not exactly, but...
I’ve messed up. I know it. Fear made me just want to keep my head down and run. But keeping her head down and running wasn’t an MO that she could follow this time.
Or maybe she was just tired of running.
“What’s your connection to Steve Yeldon?” Melinda asked. “Why did he call you?”
Right. Well, if she was going to talk then there was no sense holding back now. She was far too aware of Mac’s heavy gaze on her.
“Eight years ago I was...my boyfriend was killed. Nate Daniels. His name was Nate.” She didn’t like to think of Nate, because it hurt too much. “The cops never found his killer.” Tell her. Just say it. “And a lot of people in that area, they thought that maybe I was the killer.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Mac stiffen.
Right. And this was why she hadn’t told the cops about her connection to Steve Yeldon right away. One of the reasons, anyway. She hated it when people looked at her with suspicion.
“Did you kill him?” Melinda asked with no inflection in her voice.
“No.” Keep it simple. “Steve was one of the few people who didn’t think I was guilty. And for a while, I know he was doing some big exposés, trying to find the real killer.”
Melinda’s gaze was still on her. “Was that real killer ever found?”
“No. Or at least...” Goose bumps were on her arms. “I didn’t think he was. But with Steve dead and the guy on the phone telling me that he’s going to be coming for me...”
Melinda nodded. “You think Steve might have uncovered his identity.”
“I think it’s possible.”
Mac strode closer to her. “Maybe the killer thinks you know something that can identify him.”
Her hands twisted together in her lap. “It’s been eight years. If I knew something, I would have said it by now.” She didn’t, though. She didn’t know anything about the guy’s identity. So she’d just kept moving. Kept going forward. New towns, new people. A new life.
“If the killer is in Austin...” Melinda stood up. “You’re in danger.”
Like she hadn’t already figured that out.
“Is that why you stayed silent at the crime scene?” Melinda pushed her with a low question. “Because you were afraid the killer was after you, too?” Before Elizabeth could answer, the detective shook her head. “Staying silent won’t save you. It’ll just make it easier for you to die.”
Well, that was cheery news.
Melinda looked over at Mac. “I guess she has McGuire protection now, huh? I think that’s probably a real good thing. Keep me in the loop, and maybe I can do the same for you.”
He took out a card and gave it to the detective. Then he escorted the detective outside.
As soon as the door shut behind them, Elizabeth jumped from her seat and started pacing. The sun was up now. A new day. Exhaustion pulled at her, and she really just wanted to go home and crash.
In twenty-four hours, she’d lost the perfect life she’d built. She’d been hunted, she’d found a dead man and now...now all of the dirty little secrets from her past were about to tumble out.
No good. Trouble.
Party girl...always causing trouble.
It’s her fault he’s dead.
Her palms rubbed against her eyes as she tried to block the flood of memories, but those stupid whispers kept filling her ears.
“Elizabeth?”
He was back. She hadn’t even heard the door open. He needed to stop that whole ninja-walking technique he had going on. Elizabeth lowered her hands and turned to face him. “I have to get home.”
He nodded. “I’ll take you.”
No argument? No grilling? No demand to know more about her dead ex?
“You look as if you’re about to fall down at any moment.” His lips quirked. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re still as pretty as can be, but I know whe
n a person is about to crash.” He lifted his hand toward her, and she found herself reaching out and twining her fingers with his. “You can tell me everything when you wake up.”
No, I can’t. He had no idea just how tangled her life truly was. Or how hard she’d worked to put the past behind her. She wasn’t the same woman. She wouldn’t allow herself to be.
The past should have stayed dead. Instead, it had just come killing again.
* * *
HE HADN’T COUNTED on the PI.
Elizabeth Snow had aligned herself with a powerful man—or rather, a powerful family. The McGuires were well-known in the area, and frankly, they were trouble that he didn’t want.
He watched as Elizabeth and Mac McGuire left McGuire Securities. He kept his phone near his ear, as if he was intently listening to a caller. His hat was pulled down low, and his collar was turned up. He wore sunglasses—not just to hide his face but because his eyes were still red, courtesy of Elizabeth’s damned spray.
As the couple headed down the street, he noticed that Mac seemed far more focused on Elizabeth than he was on any potential threats.
That will be a mistake.
But Elizabeth had a way of pulling men to her. Sure, she looked different now. She acted different. And being a librarian? An interesting change for her.
Mac opened his car door for Elizabeth. Then his gaze swept the street.
He turned away before Mac could lock that gaze on him, and he hurried down the street. Now wasn’t the time for an attack. It had been easy enough to take out Yeldon. The fool hadn’t realized the extent of the danger he courted. And when Yeldon had told him about Elizabeth...
I should have killed her years before. Unfinished business is such a damn pain.
He’d thought Elizabeth didn’t know anything that would incriminate him, but now Yeldon had him doubting that truth. He sure couldn’t risk any exposure. Too much was at stake. Far, far too much.
Mac’s car drove past him.
Elizabeth had talked to a female detective earlier. He’d watched her leave, too. He’d have to find out just what she’d learned...before she had time to launch a full investigation that might lead back to him. He’d see if cash would work with her. Often, secrecy and safety were really all about just giving the right amount of money to the right person.