by Aimee Laine
“I forgot to tell you that I made up a whole week thanks to your little push with the plumbers.” She reached in with her head and added a kiss to his lips. “Wanted to thank you for that. You’re quite the negotiator.”
His grin snuck out. “I’m good at the business side of … stuff, and—” Taylor’s single raised eyebrow eyes stopped him. “What?” he asked.
“Before …” Her voice came out a throaty whisper. “Before … you were a farmer. You were … building a business.” Her eyes took on a faraway focus. “You were—you were just getting started. And, you asked my father—to help—that’s how we met. I saw you. I mean. I remember.” She tilted down to him. “Watching you through the farmhouse windows. Seeing you with my father, learning how to properly budget.” She blinked a few times, and her gaze returned to Ian.
He reached out for her hand. “Maybe I learned back then.” He turned her hand over and kissed her palm. “I have a feeling I learned a lot around the time I met you.” He let go and laid her hand on the car’s window frame. “And on that note, we need to go out to that farmhouse still.”
“We?” She leaned her arms on the edge of the door. “Have you decided to start working with me?”
Ian chuckled.
“You’re really not going to let me out of your sight, are you?” Taylor asked.
He shook his head.
“I could make up even more time if you’d get a little dirty.” Her brows flashed up and down. “And, spend time … just with you.” She ran a finger down his cheek.
“I’ll get dirty but not with power tools.”
The call of Taylor’s name took her away from the window again. Her second in command, one Ian had run a few background checks on, shook his head with his cap in his hand. The two conversed for a minute before Taylor came back.
“Please, please, please go get lunch?” She batted her lashes at him like some demure southern belle.
Ian’s lips curved despite his desire to stay resolved. “Fine. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes, but if anything happens, you call.”
She leaned in for another kiss. “Will do. I want a chicken sandwich, please.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll play errand boy but only ‘cause I kinda like you.”
“I’ll play helpless girl, and you can be a fire fighter tonight, how about that?”
Ian’s laugh jumped out. “Am I gonna have to play the girl?”
Taylor’s hand shot out and punched him.
He rubbed at the spot on his bicep where she hit. “You didn’t pull that one.”
“You deserved it.” She sauntered off, gave him a salute and followed her crew back into the house.
A switch to the driver’s seat and Ian headed out.
• • •
Taylor trudged her way back into the house, following around until she reached the interior bathroom. Two men added tile to the walls but had called her due to colors not matching. A check of the outside of the box revealed the source of the problem. Box number one listed the correct tile and box two a single number off.
“Just do what you can, and I’ll get more for Monday,” she said.
“We can come in this weekend if that helps, boss,” one of the guys said.
Taylor noted the information she needed on her clipboard. “I’ll see if they’re in the store, and if so, I’ll take you up on that.” She stepped away, pulling her phone out at the same time as it buzzed. The number on screen didn’t show but came through as unknown. She let it go to voicemail as she walked out into the sunshine.
With her back to the house, she navigated her way to her address book and dialed the kitchen and bath store. Her phone buzzed again while it rang, but the same ‘unknown’ came through, so she ignored it.
“… Kitchen and Bath, how may I help you?”
Taylor almost missed the response with the phone away from her ear. “Hi, this is …” She went on to describe what she needed.
An incoming call buzzed her phone again.
Riley’s number popped up. Taylor itched to answer it but needed to finish out her conversation.
“So, you need to replace just the one box?” The woman on the other end of the line talked as slow as Taylor’s neighbor.
“Yes, ma’am. I do. Just the one.”
“All righty, then. I can have that back …” The phone buzzed again with Riley’s number. “… well, yeah, actually, we do have them in stock.”
“Great.” Taylor interrupted. “I’ll pick them up tomorrow morning.”
“Okay—”
“Thanks.” She hung up as her phone buzzed again with the ‘unknown’ number. Rather than ignore it, she answered, “Taylor Marsh.”
“Ms. Marsh?”
She tensed at the clipped tone. “Yes.”
“This is Kenya with Smart Alarm—”
Taylor’s body shivered.
“—We’ve received notification that your alarm has been triggered. Do we need to send fire and emergency services—”
“I’m not there, so …” Taylor ran toward one of her company trucks parked at the edge of the lot. “… yes, please send them.” She hung up and climbed into the cab, grabbed the keys in the ignition and started it up as her crew ran from the house. “Back later, guys!”
Wheels kicked up gravel as she spun out onto the road.
“Two miles away,” she said to herself as she fiddled with her cell to dig up Ian’s number.
The sounds of sirens rang through the open window under a clear blue sky. “Shit!” Pressing the accelerator, she pushed the truck through the back roads toward her home.
30
Ian dawdled on his return, enjoying the air-conditioning in Tripp’s Jaguar, when his phone rang. “Ian Sands.”
“Ian, it’s Riley.”
“Hi—”
“Are you with Taylor?” Worry coated the question.
Ian’s heart thumped hard in his chest. “No, why?”
“They just put out a call for police and fire to her house, and I can’t get through to her.”
“I’m two seconds from the driveway to her job site.”
“Have her get over there … and Ian?”
“Yeah?”
“Stay with her.”
Ian cocked his head at nobody, the question playing through his mind. “Any reason I should ask why?”
“Yes, actually. I’ll meet you at her house.” Riley hung up as Ian pulled into the driveway.
He noted a few missing cars but no one outside. A skip through an open door didn’t reveal anyone, either. “Hello?” Ian’s chest heaved with the rush of adrenaline at Taylor’s absence.
Someone popped their head out from one of the rooms. “You lookin’ for the foreman?”
“Yeah. She here?”
“Went into town to get some tiles for the bathroom, I think.”
“Thanks.” Ian slapped a hand against a door frame as he took off toward his car. With his cell in hand, he dialed Taylor’s number but received no answer. The door to his car slammed as he got back into his seat, revved the engine and took off down the drive, turning toward town and hoping she’d stay there long enough for him to find her. As he drove, he tried her cell, once, twice and five more times.
She didn’t answer any of the calls.
• • •
Riley stepped from his car as Taylor drove up. “They got in touch with you?”
She ran toward her house, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “Let go.” Taylor yanked herself free. “This is my house.” Her bungalow gave no hint of a problem except for the somewhat audible screech of the alarm coming from inside.
Riley caught up to Taylor as a fire truck pulled into the driveway. “I’ve called Ian. He’s on his way.”
She walked the length of her front porch, noting the curtains were open with no sign of being disturbed. Taylor moved around to the side and peered in. “It’s a false alarm, Riley.”
He stood to her side. “You don’t know that.”
“Why w
ould I have any reason to believe otherwise?” Taylor narrowed her eyes.
“Just let me—”
“No.” Key into lock, the door opened. Taylor marched over to the alarm panel, entered her numbers and silenced the inner squealing.
“I can look with you.”
“Riley Dale, I am a big girl. How many times have I got to tell you that?” She dropped her keys on the counter and began her inspection. The table stood as it had that morning, with chairs tucked tight up underneath. Taylor went back to the living room.
Nothing.
She searched the length of the hallway, popping her head into the bathroom, the second bedroom and her office.
Nothing.
Turning back, she slipped into her room. “Everything’s fine, Rile—” She froze.
On her bed lay a red rose, its stem wrapped in a velvet ribbon.
Taylor dropped to her knees, gasping for air, a burn racing through her as a memory took hold.
The blaze accepts her body as its fuel. Kindling snaps. Sparks fly upward, adding to the smoke-filled air.
A touch to her shoulder made her scream. She jumped and scrambled away until her back hit the edge of something.
Her location six feet beneath the surface of the earth, with her hands bound behind, prevents escape. He’d planned well, taking away her ability to save herself.
“John! No!”
Something touched her arms.
He twists her hair around his wrist and pushes lower, forcing himself to move backward toward the outer edge of what should be paradise. “Not this time,” he says. “You will not betray my love again.”
The intensity of her fear grew until Taylor couldn’t hold up her own head. She curled in on herself.
He twirls a single red rose between his fingertips.
On a final breath, the world went black.
• • •
Ian stood over Taylor, his face set in a scowl. “Taylor.” His voice cracked.
“I don’t know what happened.” Riley knelt with him.
Ian hadn’t smelled anything odd, hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. Nothing. “Let’s get her out of here.” He lifted her into his arms and followed Riley out of the room.
“Ian?” Taylor’s soft voice stopped him.
He tightened his hold and moved again toward the living room couch.
“I need to breathe.”
He relaxed but only a little, dropping to the sofa with her still in his arms. “Are you okay?” An eerie worry came through his tone.
She nodded against him. “What happened?”
“You tell me.” His own breath hitched. “You were screaming as if someone was torturing you.”
“And you kept yelling ‘John’,” Riley said.
Ian drew in deep. John again? “Calling for me or—”
“In absolute terror,” Riley said.
Taylor rested her head against Ian’s chest. “The-the … flower.”
“The rose?” Riley faced Ian. “You didn’t give that to her?”
Ian shook his head. Uncertainty reigned as to whether he wanted to press or not.
Taylor snuggled up against him, her head fitting just above his heart. “And the ribbon. Why did he leave those for me again?”
Ian’s heart lurched. Again? A knock on the door had Ian tilting up and cut his question of ‘He, who?’ short.
He glanced at Riley and gestured with his head for him to check it, and Riley stood and headed toward the door.
“Oh, hello, dear.” Agnes’s voice reached Ian. “Is everything okay? I saw the fire trucks. I hope there are no problems, no gas leaks or anything.”
“No problems, Miss Agnes,” Riley said from around the corner. “Just a little alarm system on the fritz.”
“Oh, well. Those alarm systems … that newfangled technology. A good dead bolt is so much simpler.”
“She’s a little batty,” Taylor whispered.
“I’ll be sure to pass on that advice to Taylor, Miss Agnes,” Riley said.
“Speaking of which … is Miss Taylor available?”
“Uh …” Riley started.
Taylor extricated herself from Ian and went toward the door. She wiped her hands across her face and through her hair before straightening her shoulders. “Miss Agnes, so good to see you.”
To anyone else, Taylor probably sounded sincere, but the slight warble suggested to Ian whatever had happened still bothered her.
“Oh, Miss Taylor! Did I catch you while working?”
“Not you, but that alarm.”
Agnes giggled an old lady sound. “Silly technology. Anyway, we’re about to leave for our trip. I was hoping you could water my plants? I was going to ask Andy, but he won’t be staying after all.”
“Andy?” Taylor asked.
Goosebumps formed on Ian’s arm. He rose and walked, without making any noise, toward where Taylor and Riley stood.
“Oh, yes. Stayed with us last fall? You remember, dear? He stopped by today,” Agnes said. “Asked about you, too.”
Ian rounded the frame of the wall and waved at Agnes.
A small pat to Taylor’s forearm accompanied Agnes’s slight lean forward. “That Andy was such a kind boy, but I like this one you’ve got here much better.” Her giddy, granny laugh normally would have made Ian smile.
“I’m glad to know I’ve won you over,” Ian said. “Who was I competing against again?”
“Why Andy George, of course. Didn’t I introduce you?” She patted her blue-rinse hair as if to tap her memory into overdrive.
Taylor swayed, but Ian held her up. “I-I don’t think so, Miss Agnes,” Taylor said. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet him.”
“Oh, but I was sure I had. Nice fella, about Riley’s height, with those European features, the blond hair.”
Taylor shook her head.
“Oh, well. We were hoping he’d stay again and house sit.” Agnes shrugged. “But, what can you do? You young whippersnappers always galavanting off.”
Speak of the devil galavanting off. Agnes had stopped by at least once a day while Ian had stayed with Taylor. She’d regaled him with stories from her trips with her husband.
“He only swung through town just this afternoon and told me he had other plans.”
Shaking took hold of Taylor’s body.
“What’s going on Taylor?” Ian whispered at her ear.
“What … did he ask … about me?” Taylor asked.
Agnes’s smile creased every inch of her face. “Oh, you know how men are. He asked how you were getting along, if any suitors had come by. He remembered you being somewhat solitary during his stay last year. I told him you had your Ian here.” She laid her hand on Ian’s forearm and squeezed. “You are smitten with Miss Taylor, aren’t you young man?”
Even as Ian thought, ‘Who is Andy George, and why does he have this affect on Taylor?’ he smiled. “I believe I am.” His hold on Taylor didn’t decrease, but he took Agnes’s hand in his. A blush filled her cheeks, pinking them up like a little school girl’s.
“Well, I best be going.”
“I’ll walk you home, Miss Agnes.” Riley nodded toward Ian and pushed forward with Agnes.
“Have a good trip,” Taylor said as the door closed behind them.
• • •
With every step, Taylor wobbled, and Ian had to steady her. “Tell me what’s going on. Who is Andy George?”
“One of the three.” She fell to the couch and leaned forward, heaving air. “From the tower accident in Alabama.” Taylor shook her head from one side to the other in a way Ian understood to be deliberate. “He’s doing something. Planning. He took this Tanner guy’s name, faked his identity and set me up before. Why?” Before Ian could speak, Taylor continued, “Then, he comes here and takes Jason’s name and a shining to Emma, gets information and tells her he’s leaving. But … Andy. Is he being all three of them? What did he do to the others?” Taylor popped up. “What the hell is he doing, Ian?”
Ian wished he had an answer. “First, we don’t know that Andy is Tanner. It could be complete coin—”
The glare Taylor sent him stopped him.
“Okay, so coincidences aside … I don’t know, but I’m not going—”
“You think you can stick to my side every minute of every day for the rest of my life? I’ve got Tanner-Jason-Andy following close on my heels. I know he was in my house today.”
“How?”
“The rose. In the middle of that mess in Alabama was a rose, tied in a velvet ribbon. Just like today.” Her tone hardened. “And, it was there today. And, it was there … before. Before now. In our life before. He dropped it on my grave as he buried me.”
“He? Did you see his face in a vision or—”
“No.” Taylor yanked at her hair. “I just—I don’t know.”
Ian took her hands and rubbed with his thumb. He was in the photo. If he was there before, could he have killed Taylor? Why?
“He’s been this shadow looming over my life for over ten years, Ian!” She broke Ian’s thoughts. “Maybe ten lives! Or at least four!”
Ian motioned for her to inhale. “Come on. Breathe a little.”
Her rigid shoulders relaxed. “What’s he doing to me, Ian? Why? Why now?”
“Well—”
“What if that photo was him, and what if he’s involved in this, and what if that means the game isn’t over, and what if we fail, and I never hear you tell me you love me, and …”
“That’s your worry?”
“All of it is! I don’t know what’s going on, and I hate it!”
Ian crushed his lips to hers. When he slowed and parted, he rested his forehead against hers. “I love you, Taylor. I have for three lifetimes, and I do now. I love your work ethic, how you support people, that you’re building a business and that crazy-assed, southern accent of yours. So, there’s one less thing to worry about, okay? I love you.”
She touched his lips. “Thank you.”
“Now, before we keep going. I had a thought. For sake of argument, if there were three players … well, Tripp and Lexi both have the same symbol on them—”
“Are you ever going to tell me what they can do?”
Ian chuckled. “Ask them one day. They’ll tell you, I’m sure.”
“Okay.
“So, as I was saying, they have a matching symbol. We have a matching symbol. If he’s involved in this thing with us, he’d probably have the same, right? That’s logical, at least. Do you remember if he had this?”