Dying for Love

by Angel Nicholas

  The muscles on his abdomen tensed as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m sorry you didn’t have a normal family life growing up.”

  “Well, a lot of the kids at school had divorced parents. Living in two different homes, getting new fathers and mothers whenever their parents remarried. I didn’t suffer a broken home in that sense. Sometimes, I think my situation was preferable to theirs.”

  “Hmm, I suppose that’s true.”

  “Must be nice that your brother lives here.”

  “Mmm.”

  She rubbed her cheek against him. “That’s a very noncommittal sound.”

  “My brother has issues.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s only cares about himself—like our father—unreliable, believes the world owes him something. And when things don’t go his way, he expects his family to bail him out. And we have…a lot.”

  “That’s gotta be tough. What did you mean when you said you played second fiddle to your brother’s dog in his wedding?”

  Matt’s chest lifted in a sigh. “He got married six or seven years ago. The marriage didn’t last. Anyway, in the ceremony he had his dog play best man. I did nothing. Sat in the audience like I was nobody.”

  “Oh, Matt. I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”

  “I’ll admit, it hurt my feelings. Maybe it should have been a clue that all wasn’t right with our relationship, but then again, it’s never been exactly normal. No, that’s not true. Growing up we were totally normal.”

  “You must feel a bit like you’ve lost your brother, then.”

  “You’re very perceptive.”

  She tipped her head back and met his gaze. She couldn’t believe he loved her and wanted to be with her. He was so handsome. So sweet and caring. Nothing at all like he appeared at work. “Why are you so hard on your employees? Even people who’ve worked there for years. You’re a very demanding boss, which I guess is okay, but you’re not very nice.”

  His eyebrow rose. “I didn’t know you had to be nice in the business world. Competitors would walk all over me.”

  “What does that have to do with your employees?”

  “Being hard-nosed and tough has always gotten the most out of people. I guess I want to be careful to keep personal and profession lines clear.”

  Laughing, she shifted to drape herself across his chest and rested her chin on her hands over his breastbone. “Really?”

  “Yeah, really. You were the exception from the start, smarty pants.” He smacked her on the butt, then soothed the sting with his palm. Shifting his leg, he pulled her the rest of the way on top of him and cupped her bare bottom in both hands. “I want you to know I didn’t hire you because I was attracted to you, but you really threw me. I wasn’t sure if I should even hire you because I was so attracted to you.”

  “I never knew. You treated me the same as everyone else.”

  “The boss asking out an employee is a pretty sticky situation. I gave serious thought to firing you first.”

  Rising up on her elbows, she gaped at him. “You what? Like I would have gone out with you after you fired me, you big jerk.”

  “I didn’t.”

  Still… “The nerve.”

  “What? I didn’t realize at the time that you had a thing for bosses.”

  She gasped in mock offense.

  He wriggled his eyebrows and rocked his pelvis against her.

  Sweet angelic cherubs above, he was hard again. “You’re insatiable. You’re going to kill me.”

  “It’s been two years. I’m making up for lost time.” He pulled her head down to smother any objections with his lips. Though, honestly, she didn’t have any.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Hey. How’s Mom doing today?” Matt leaned back in his office chair. “That’s good. So the doctor thinks he got all the cancer?” Some of the tension of the last few weeks eased. “That’s excellent… Yeah… We should celebrate once she’s feeling better. Speaking of celebrating, I have news.” He grinned. “I’m going to ask Grace to marry me. I know it hasn’t been long, but there’s no doubt in my mind.”

  As soon as he hung up, the phone rang again.

  “Duncan.”

  “Hey, Matt. I wanted to let you know Luke is taking me to lunch.”

  Frowning, he drummed his fingers on the desk. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “Sure I’m sure. What the big deal?”

  “We don’t know who the SOB stalking you is.”

  “You did a background check on Luke, right?”

  “Yes. Doesn’t mean I like him taking my girl out.”

  Grace laughed. “Oh, so this is about jealousy, not safety.”

  He groaned.

  “You’re being silly. It’s just lunch. I should be back in the office by one. How about I give you a call when I get in?”

  “Yes.” Being patted on the head sharpened his temper, but he kept a lid on it. “Where are you going?”

  She named a popular restaurant a few streets away then hung up. Matt wandered his office restlessly. Following them to lunch appealed, but he figured that leaned too close to stalking.

  His phone beeped. “Mr. Duncan? There’s a Detective Harrison here looking for Miss Debry.”

  He snatched up the phone. Harrison made an excellent source to take out his irritation on, especially considering the times he’d caught him leering at Grace. “Send him in, please.”

  Quickly crossing the room, he snatched open the door in time to catch Harrison mid-knock. “Come on in, Detective. You’re just the man I wanted to see.”

  A hitch in the guy’s step was the only indication of any surprise. “I live to serve.”

  Matt sat behind his desk while Harrison settled into one of the—according to Grace—intentionally uncomfortable chairs across from him. At the moment, he appreciated that they were uncomfortable. He’d enjoy watching the detective squirm.

  “Good. I want to know who those men were.” He tilted his chair back. “When Grace and I arrived at her condo, they were standing by the river watching the complex. Then they just happen to get involved in an incident with the same guy who’s been bothering Grace? That’s not coincidence.”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss that, Mr. Duncan.”

  “Really? Men just happen to be popping up in convenient places while Grace is enduring cruel and destructive harassment and you can’t discuss it?” He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. “I can and will go over your head if I feel you’re suffering a conflict of interest, Detective Harrison.”

  “I know those men.” Harrison lost the relaxed and controlled pose, to Matt’s satisfaction. “Trust me, they have absolutely no intention of harming Miss Debry. The only thing they’re doing is helping. Trying to catch this guy and prevent him from getting a hold of her.”

  Matt rolled a pen between his fingers, watching the detective in his peripheral vision. “I’m supposed to take your word for it?”

  Tension leapt and snapped from Harrison’s posture. “That’s right. This is an on-going investigation, Duncan.”

  Harrison had dropped the Mister. He was pissed. He stood and headed for the door. Matt watched the sunlight glint off the sterling pen as he twirled it. Just as Harrison’s hand grasped the doorknob, he spoke.

  “You’d better pray nothing happens to Grace, Detective. Or I promise, I will personally see that you lose your badge.”

  Harrison turned. “Is that a threat?”

  “Not at all. It’s a simple statement. Have a good day.”

  Harrison slammed the door behind him. Matt couldn’t care less. He would do exactly as he said if anything happened to Grace. As far as he was concerned, it would be dereliction of duty on the part of Detective Harrison.

  *****

  Grace sat at her desk on Friday afternoon, counting estimates and sorting them into separate piles. Ah, the excitement. At least the monotony allowed her mind to wander. Her entire thought process pretty much d
id its own thing lately.

  Stress did that to her. Her body and heart were out of control around Matt. Then there was the psychopath stalker freak terrorizing her. She didn’t know which was worse. Being forced from her home really ticked her off. Then again, the way her hormones sat up and begged every time she was within the same vicinity as Matt was just shameful.

  Along with her heart. Dropping her head to the desk, she fought a wave of panic. Stupid idiotic hormones. If only she’d been able to display a fraction more self-control, she wouldn’t be in this mess. Matt might swear to Doomsday and back that he wouldn’t leave her, but life had a way of making other plans. Something as fragile as love couldn’t be trusted.

  She covered her face with her hands. What the flip was she gonna do?

  Groaning, she stared at the surface of her desk. The number for the Indiana Foster Care and Adoption Association and the caseworker’s name stared back. Okay. Hint taken. She punched the numbers into her phone. The phone rang while her stomach wrapped into knots.

  Riiiing. What if she found out something awful? Riiiing. What if some mastermind had been orchestrating her life with Machiavellian intent? Riiiing. What if all those foster homes hadn’t wanted her, because she really was unlovable?

  She pulled the phone away and started to press END CALL.

  “Indiana Foster Care and Adoption Association, Missy Lyons speaking.”

  Gulp. “Hi. I’m looking into my foster care background and would like some information.”

  “Of course. I’d be happy to help you with that. Can I get your name and date of birth, please?”

  “Grace Debry. October nine, nineteen eighty-three.”

  Grace drew in a breath, drumming her fingers on the desk as the static on the line droned uninterrupted.

  “Hello?”

  “Uh, right. Someone called to request a copy of your records a few days ago, Miss Debry.”

  “Yes, I know. Matthew Duncan. He said when he asked about the reason behind the multiple foster homes, you told him you were unable to release information to anyone other than me. Which is why I’m calling.” Her hand tightened around the phone.

  “Um-hmm.” Click clack came through the phone as the caseworker typed away on her computer. “Would you please verify your social security number?”

  Grace did. More typing.

  “Thank you.”

  More typing. Was she writing a book?

  “Miss Debry? If you could send me a copy of your driver’s license and social security card, along with your contact information, I’ll get a full copy of your records to you.”

  “My social security card?” Great. One more delay. “I don’t carry that with me. It’s…”

  Oh, no. Blood-sucking mosquitos, masochistic marigolds and vicious vines.

  She balled her free hand into a fist, heart in her throat, struggling to resist a full-blown temper tantrum. Why, why, why had she ever vowed to stop swearing? Dread swept through her.

  Crap, crap, crap. Grace closed her eyes and accepted the inevitable. “Would you prefer that faxed or scanned in and sent through email?”

  “Whichever is easiest.”

  “Perfect. I’ll get that emailed as soon as possible.” I hope. “Will you be sending the file in the email as well?”

  “Well … it’s a very large file. Perhaps it would be best if I mailed it.”

  “Ms. Lyons, it’s imperative I get the information as soon as possible. The size won’t make any difference to my system, I promise.”

  “Okay. As soon as I receive verification of your identity, I’ll email the file. I’m sorry for any inconvenience, but we have to be careful about the information we release.”

  “I understand. Good-bye.”

  Stinkin’ bloody dandelions. She stared out the window and gnawed on her fingernail. Fluffy white clouds drifted across the deep-blue sky.

  The box with her personal files was in her trashed condo. She hadn’t even thought to check and make sure it was still intact.

  It was near quitting time. If she hurried, she could beat the rush, grab what she needed from the condo, come back to the office to scan it in and email, and still be on time to meet Luke for the Celtic Women concert. She’d have to really fly.

  Five minutes later, she screeched to a stop in her parking space at the condominium complex. Thank heaven she lived so close. Fumbling her keys, she jogged up the steps. She unlocked the door and her heart clutched. The passage of time had done nothing to lessen the impact. Her heart and soul had gone into making the condo her home.

  She dropped her purse and keys on the little table by the door and dodged an overturned chair on the way to the bedroom. Stay focused, she reminded herself, blinking back tears. Tucked into the far corner of the closet sat her storage box.

  She hugged it to her chest like a long-lost child as she carefully maneuvered the mess, tears blurring her vision.

  Her foot caught and the box slipped from her grasp. She flung her hands out. The floor rushed toward her and she slammed into it with a gasp of pain. Hip and wrist throbbing, she whimpered and sat up.

  “Oh, man.”

  The contents of the box were spilled across the floor, mixing with broken glass, CDs, DVDs, and who knew what else. Grace rubbed her aching wrist.

  One folder was mostly intact. Pretty sure it held her important papers, she reached for it. A movement caught her eye and she glanced toward the balcony. Time slowed, her heartbeat thudding loudly.

  A man with shaggy blonde hair leaned against the sliding door, handsome in an aged Robert Redford way, arms crossed, blue eyes cold and hard as he stared at her. He looked to be in his mid to late fifties. He also looked exactly like a man she’d seen before, jumping out of an old pickup in front of Matt’s house to give chase.

  Oh, God.

  Heart in her throat, she glanced at the door. No way could she jump to her feet and make it there before he did, but staying flash-frozen to the floor wasn’t going to help.

  “Finally.” Straightening from his lounging position against the door, he strolled toward her.

  Grace shoved to her feet and backed up. Her side hit the breakfast island. The kitchen. Knives. Gaze glued to him, she sidled around the counter.

  “No need to make this difficult, angel.” His smooth, deep voice shouldn’t have sent a shiver of fear down her spine.

  She spun into the kitchen and almost tripped again. The contents of the room were scattered everywhere. The back of her neck tightened. There! The light glinted dully off the serrated edge of one of her knives.

  A movement fanned the back of her hair as she dove for the knife, and strands of hair ripped free of her scalp.

  The man laughed. “Damn, you always were a spirited little thing.”

  Her skin crawled. He didn’t know her. Almost sobbing, Grace closed her hand around the hilt of the long blade and twisted to face him.

  “Stay back.” She scooted back on her butt until she came up against a cupboard. “Stay away from me.”

  He laughed again and shook his head. “You think I’m scared of a little knife? I’m not gonna let that come between us. Not after I’ve come so far for you.”

  His accent grated, shifting something inside her mind. Memories old and faded as a weathered photograph twisted and spun just out of reach.

  Grace shook her head. She didn’t know this guy any more than he knew her.

  A pan screeched across the tiles and she jerked her head up. Half the distance between them was gone. Crap. Tears blurred her vision. She quickly scrubbed them away.

  Great. Bawl like a baby when some psycho is trying to kill you. Good plan, Grace.

  “You belong to me, angel.” His low voice was almost hypnotic. In another lifetime, by some other female, maybe through thick metal bars, he might be considered handsome. “We’ll be together again. Forever, this time.”

  “There will be no forever, you freak.” Grace slashed the knife through the air between them. “I don’t know who you
think I am, but I don’t belong to anyone. Now get back unless you want to lose a few fingers.”

  He didn’t move.

  “I swear I’ll do it, buddy.” Her voice rose an octave. “I keep my knives sharp enough to split hairs and I will not hesitate to slice off anything that gets close.”

  A slow smile creased his cheeks. Sheer force of will kept back her violent shudder. He backed up. One step. Two. He stopped in the doorway to the living room.

  Grace scrambled to her feet, knife gripped tight. “Keep going. All the way out the door.”

  His wrinkles grew more pronounced as his smile grew. He backed across her disaster of a living room with uncanny grace.

  “You won’t get away from me, you know.”

  “I know nothing of the kind.”

  He stopped by the front door.

  She gestured with the knife. “Open the door and get out.”

  Beep beep beeeep.

  Grace glanced over her shoulder into the kitchen and he rushed her.

  Her peripheral vision caught the movement and she spun, slashing out with the knife. He easily dodged it and slammed her to the floor.

  BOOM! A blast of searing heat roared over her.

  His oppressive weight smothered her. Her vision blurred. The air was so hot, it hurt to breathe. With a grunt, he lifted up. Grace rolled to her side, coughing, ears ringing.

  “Come on.”

  He tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of dog food.

  She forced her head up. Flames licked the black hole where her kitchen used to be and thick smoke curled along the ceiling. What had he done? The smoke pouring out of the condo blinded her as they cleared the front door.