Intuition

by Carol Ericson

  He pushed her in front of him, and she could feel the point of the knife against her back. He propelled her up the stairs, right up to the third floor where her mother had hung herself. Had her mother seen through Toby? Had she felt like she hadn’t done enough to save Bree?

  They walked past the landing with its broken balustrade from Kylie’s fall. Where Matt had saved her. Felt like a million years ago.

  They continued down the hallway until they reached the end. Toby’s eyes gleamed with excitement, and Kylie had an urge to delay what he had in store for her.

  “The warning on my mirror?”

  “I gave you a chance. If you had left then, none of this would be happening.”

  “The massage room?”

  He shrugged. “A clumsy attempt, as were the lights on the stage, but that threw suspicion on Sloan, too, didn’t it?”

  “You rigged my mother’s house?”

  “Stop!” He banged his fist on the door at the end of the hallway. “I know what you’re doing, but you can’t avoid this, Kylie. And why would you want to? I’m giving you what you came here for.”

  He pulled open the door to what looked like a walk-in closet or storage area and pushed her in ahead of him. With his breath hot on her neck, he reached around her and started pressing on the wall at the back of the closet.

  A panel clicked and he slid it open. “You wanted to locate Bree? Well, here she is.”

  Kylie covered her mouth with both hands and her knees buckled as she stared into the face of a grinning skeleton.

  * * *

  MATT SLIPPED THROUGH the side door, sweat dripping from his brow. His cop instincts had to be right—they hadn’t failed him yet—not when he’d suspected something fishy in the drug evidence lockup and not when he’d suspected Chief Evans had something to hide with the police report. If the chief had only trusted his son more, maybe he would’ve nailed Toby three years ago.

  It had to be Toby.

  He had to be here…and Bree had to be here, too.

  Three. Dead. Girls.

  Matt cocked his head listening to…silence. With all the nooks and crannies in this house, that didn’t mean a thing. He leaned against the kitchen wall and pulled off one boot. If Toby was holding Kylie somewhere in this house, Matt didn’t need to announce his presence. He pulled off the second boot and set it next to the first one.

  Kylie was smart enough to hold Toby at bay. He’d brought her here for a reason. Otherwise, he would’ve finished her off in an easier way. Matt ground his teeth together. If that killer harmed Kylie, he’d pay…big-time.

  On his stocking feet, Matt crept into the hallway. He edged toward the library and peered into the burnt-out room. Just in case. The light from his flashlight scanned the scorched walls.

  He backed up and did a quick reconnaissance of the rest of the first floor. His gaze flicked to the door that led to the basement. He reached out, his fingers grazing the handle. Then he heard a scream and a thump from upstairs.

  He spun around and took the stairs, two at a time, all thoughts of a stealth attack banished by that scream—Kylie’s scream. He hit the second floor, but the scrambling from above told him all the action was on the third.

  He stormed the next set of stairs and crashed to a halt when confronted with Toby, his arm around Kylie’s waist and a knife to her throat.

  “Matt!” Kylie jerked in Reynolds’s grip.

  “How’d you find us? How’d you know?” Reynolds’s knife gleamed in the light Matt had turned on him.

  “Give it up, Reynolds. I called the police. They’re on their way.”

  If only he’d done that. He couldn’t get any reception on his cell at the concert venue and by the time he’d driven out of there, he’d been too anxious to reach Kylie to bother to make a call to the C.C.P.D. and try to explain to them how and why he knew Toby had Kylie in his clutches.

  Was that really it? Had his desire to be Kylie’s one and only savior put her life on the line?

  Toby tightened his hold on Kylie, but his gaze darted past Matt’s shoulders to the third-floor landing. “I don’t care if they’re on their way. That’s not going to change what I have to do.”

  Matt took a step forward. “Sure it does, Toby. You wanted to…hurt Kylie because you were afraid she’d find out what you did to Bree, to keep what you did to Bree a secret. That’s all over now.”

  Toby’s face crumpled, and then he smiled. “But if the cops aren’t on their way, nobody needs to find out. I’ll take care of both of you.”

  Planting his feet in a wide stance, Matt expanded his chest and straightened to his full height. “You really think you can take me on, Reynolds?”

  Toby waved the knife. “As soon as you toss your gun on the floor between us. I’m not dumb enough to bring a knife to a gunfight.”

  “Who says I have a gun?” Matt spread his arms wide.

  “You’re a cop…a former cop…you have a gun. Now throw it over the railing or I end it right here.” He drew the knife across Kylie’s throat.

  “Don’t do it, Matt. Don’t put yourself at his mercy. He’s crazy. What he did to Bree…”

  Toby socked Kylie in the stomach and she coughed.

  A muscle ticked in Matt’s jaw. He’d kill the SOB.

  “Do it, Conner. Toss the gun.”

  Matt pulled his weapon from the pocket of his jacket, checked the safety and tossed it where it clattered to the tile floor three stories down. He didn’t need a gun to take down this loser.

  “What did you do with Bree?”

  Toby stepped to the side, dragging Kylie with him. “Come closer.”

  Matt took a few more steps toward Toby and Kylie.

  Kylie whimpered. “She’s behind a panel in the closet, Matt. He hung her by her wrists. She’s been here for three years.”

  Three. Dead. Girls.

  Mindy, Bree and Marissa St. Regis?

  It must’ve driven Reynolds crazy…or crazier…that he hadn’t been able to tell anyone about his handiwork all these years. That’s why he hadn’t killed Kylie on the spot, or why he didn’t kill her right now. He needed to show off. He needed to bask in the glory of his cleverness.

  Matt was all for basking, especially if it allowed him to get closer to Kylie.

  “All this time, Reynolds?” He inched closer still. “That’s amazing. How’d you know about that secret panel?”

  “I’ve done my share of exploring around this house. Except in the basement.” His blue eyes clouded over. “I won’t go in the basement.”

  Matt balanced on the ball of his front foot, his hands splayed and ready at his sides. “I can’t see her. I can’t see Bree. I want to see what you’ve done.”

  Toby shuffled to his left. “You can take a closer look. She’s in the back of the closet. The panel’s open…for the first time in three years.”

  Training his gaze toward the closet, Matt sidled past Toby. When he drew level with him and Kylie, he shouted, “Duck, Kylie,” and threw out an elbow to the side.

  His blow cracked Toby on the cheekbone and he screamed. Kylie wriggled from Toby’s grasp, as he blindly lashed out at her. She fell to the floor and scrambled away from him on her hands and knees.

  Wielding the knife with his arms flailing, Toby charged Matt. Matt landed a punch against the angelic face and a roundhouse kick to Toby’s midsection.

  Toby grunted and staggered back, hitting the railing on the landing. The same one Kylie had fallen through days ago.

  He flapped his arms in the air like some giant bird and then flung himself backward. The sickening crack that followed his fall told Matt all he needed to know.

  Kylie was safe.

  * * *

  THE WARM WATER BUBBLED from the Jacuzzi jets, hitting Kylie right between the shoulder blades. She’d take this over a massage any day, especially given the view.

  Matt smiled across from her as she walked her toes up his shin. “I can’t believe you figured out Toby killed Bree from a photo, and
then figured out where he’d taken me from a few offhand comments he made.”

  He tapped the side of his head. “Old-fashioned police work and observation.”

  “I guess it trumps my methods since I walked willingly into Toby’s trap.”

  “You were fixated on getting something else that belonged to Bree…and your whole mojo was off.” He grasped her foot in his big hand and caressed her instep with his thumb.

  She wiggled her toes. “Yeah, I had a different kind of mojo going on.”

  “Toby scrawled the warning on your mirror? He slipped into the massage room?”

  “He was responsible for everything—the lights, the explosion at the house.”

  “But not Mindy.”

  “Chief Evans told me Mindy’s death clearly pointed to suicide. Just like my mom’s.”

  “You knew Bree was in that house, Kylie. You just got confused because Mindy’s body was there, too.”

  “And Marissa St. Regis?”

  “I have no idea where you got that, do you?”

  She cupped a puddle of hot water in her palm and dumped it over the side. “Marissa did not just run away, Matt. She came to some harm in that house—I’m sure of it.”

  “Are you in touch with Mia St. Regis?”

  “Not exactly, but I know how to contact her.”

  “Are you going to contact her?”

  “Of course.”

  “Are you going to offer your services?”

  “No. I need to get away from here, from all the memories.”

  His rough hand crept up her calf, and he brushed the back of her knee. “All the memories?”

  “Memories of my mom.”

  “And me?”

  The hot tub got hotter, and Kylie hoisted herself into the cool air. “All my memories of you are…good.”

  “My memories of you are—” his fingertips switched to the inside of her thigh “—better.”

  Her lips parted and her eyelashes fluttered as he leaned forward, the steam rising from his body. He kissed her mouth and then floated next to her onto the step.

  “What are your plans, Matt?”

  “You mean right this minute?”

  She splashed him. “For the future.”

  “The documentation my attorney sent me looks good, Kylie.” He took her by the shoulders and turned her toward him. “I’m going to fight for my job, and then I’m going to fight for you.”

  She sighed and rested her forehead against his broad chest. “I surrender.”

  “What?”

  Raising her chin, she touched her nose to his, staring into his deep, dark eyes. “I said, I surrender. You don’t have to fight for me. I’m yours. I’ve been yours ever since you pulled me from that third-floor landing at Columbella.”

  He kissed her again, pulling her flush against his chest. “Well, that was easy.”

  She smiled against his lips, feeling the warm presence of her mother floating above them in the steam.

  “It was fate.”

  * * * * *

  Don’t miss the exciting conclusion of Carol Ericson’s miniseries, GUARDIANS OF CORAL COVE. Look for DECEPTION, on sale next month wherever Harlequin Intrigue books are sold!

  Keep reading for an excerpt of Wrangled by B.J. Daniels!

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  Chapter One

  The knock at the door surprised Zane Chisholm. He’d just spent the warm summer day in the saddle rounding up cattle. All he wanted to do was kick off his boots and hit the hay early. The last thing he wanted was company.

  But whoever was knocking didn’t sound as if they were planning to go away anytime soon. Living at the end of a dirt road, he didn’t get uninvited company—other than one of his five brothers. So that narrows it down, he thought as he went to the window and peered out through the curtains.

  The car parked outside was a compact, lime-green with Montana State University plates. Definitely not one of his brothers, he thought with a grin. Chisholm men wouldn’t be caught dead driving such a “girlie” car. Especially a lime-green one.

  Even more odd was the young, willowy blonde pounding on his door. She must be lost and needing directions. Or she was selling something.

  His curiosity piqued, he went to answer her persistent knock. As the door swung open, he saw that her eyes were blue and set wide in a classically gorgeous face. She wore a slinky red dress that fell over her body like water. The woman was a stunner.

  She smiled warmly. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” He waited, wondering what she wanted, and enjoying the view in the meantime.

  Her smile slipped a little as she took in his worn jeans, his even more worn cowboy boots and the dirty Western shirt with a torn sleeve and a missing button.

  “I wasn’t expecting company,” he said when he saw her apparent disappointment in his attire.

  “Oh?” She looked confused now. “Did I get the night wrong? You’re Zane Chisholm and this is Friday, right?”

  “Right.” He frowned. “Did we have a date or something?” He knew he’d never seen this woman before. No red-blooded American male would forget a woman like this.

  She reached into her sparkly shoulder bag and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “Your last email,” she said, handing it to him.

  He took the paper, unfolded it and saw his email address. It appeared he had been corresponding with this woman for the past two days.

  “If you forgot—”

  “No,” he said quickly. “Please, come in and let’s see if we can sort this out.”

  She stepped in but looked tentative, as if not so sure about him.

  “Why don’t you start with how we met,” he said as he offered her a seat.

  She sat on the edge of the couch. “The Evans rural internet dating service.”

  “Arlene’s matchmaking business?” he asked in surprise. Arlene Evans, who was now Arlene Monroe, had started the business a few years ago to bring rural couples together.

  “We’ve been visiting by email until you…”

  “Asked you out,” he finished for her.

  “Are you saying someone else has been using your email?”

  “It sure looks that way, since I never signed up with Arlene’s matchmaking service. But,” he added quickly when he saw how upset she was, “I wouldn’t be surprised if Arlene is behind this. It wouldn’t be the first time she took it upon herself to play matchmaker.” Either that or his brothers were behind it as a joke, though that seemed unlikely. This beautiful woman was no joke.

  She looked down at her hands in her lap. “I’m so embarrassed.” She quickly rose to her feet. “I should go.”

  “No, wait,” he said, unable to shake the feeling that maybe this had been fate and that he would be making the biggest mistake of his life if he let this woman walk out now.

  “You know, it wouldn’t take me long to jump in the shower and change if you’re still up for a date,” he said with a grin.

  She hesitated. “Really? I mean, you don’t ha
ve to—”

  “I want to. But you have the advantage over me. I don’t know your name.”

  She smiled shyly. “Courtney Baxter.” She held out her hand. As he shook it, Zane thought, This night could change my life.

  He had no idea how true that was going to be.

  ISBN: 9781459238503

  Copyright © 2012 by Carol Ericson

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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