“No, I’ve got to stay in Purdue for a few days. I’ve got a family thing. Hold down the fort for me.”
“One more thing.”
“Yes?” Declan asked.
“Mr. Becker has called here three times trying to reach Chasyn.”
“She can call him from the car,” he said.
“Then I’m going back to tracking the money trail. Want me to call Detective Burrows and share this info with him?”
“Go ahead,” Declan told her. “If he needs me he might have a hard time getting in touch with me. Cell service can be spotty out here.”
“I can handle Burrows. You just take care of our girl.”
“Will do. Bye.” He glanced briefly at Chasyn and said, “Tap the screen until you get the keypad, then call Mr. Becker.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I should have called him the moment the box arrived but we left so suddenly.”
“Well, hurry up, because once I turn off the main road, the call will probably drop.”
Chasyn reached Mr. Becker and said, “Hello and I’m so sorry for my poor manners. Thank you so much for the box of mementoes. Especially the photos.”
“You’re breaking up, my dear. Where are you?”
“North Florida. I’m sorry, it seems as if I’m losing cell service. I’ll call you back when I can.”
“Are you still with Mr. Kavanaugh?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”
“I’m—” the line went dead and the panel asked if she wanted to redial. There was no point. Declan had turned on to an unevenly paved road full of potholes.
Eventually they came upon a small wooden cabin with a stone fireplace on the short end of the rectangle. It looked a little…rustic.
They unloaded the Hummer, including several guns and rifles. The interior of the cabin was better than she’d expected. Well, except for all the taxidermy hanging on the walls. They were just creepy. There was a sofa, two chairs, and a large dining set in the main room. Down a narrow hallway were two bedrooms, each outfitted with twin beds. If she’d had to describe the décor, she would’ve called it Early American Hunting Lodge. Everything was very masculine, except for the vintage quilts on the beds.
“Which room is for me?” she asked.
“We’re sharing that one,” he said, pointing to the right.
“Sharing?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not breaking your rule. You won’t be sleeping in the same bed as me.”
She hesitated. “But it is the same room.”
“It’s also the only room with a security monitor in it and I can’t keep an eye on you and monitor outside at the same time.”
“But the police know about Martha now.”
“Yes. But we don’t know if Müller knows his meal ticket is on the brink of being arrested. Until that happens, I’m not taking any chances.”
“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”
He smiled. “I try.”
Declan turned on the small television perched on the dresser. Like the one in his home, this one had cameras positioned around the property. He went into the great room to start a fire while she dug out a sweater.
When she joined him, he was positioning rifles and guns at every door and window. He did the same thing in the bedrooms. When he was finished, he pulled up his shirt to reveal two guns tucked into his waistband. “You keep this with you at all times, understood?”
She took the gun. It felt heavier than she remembered.
“I put in an extended clip.”
“A what?”
“You have extra bullets in the gun,” he explained. “If anything, and I mean anything, happens, get in the bedroom closet and close the door. If anyone other than me opens it, shoot until you run out of ammo.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
They settled on the sofa. The television was on, tuned to the surveillance channel, and a small fire crackled in the fireplace. There was a table lamp on, but it didn’t put out a lot of wattage. If it hadn’t been for the guns scattered about, it would have been kind of romantic, Chasyn thought. Except that he didn’t do romantic.
“So, do we sit here and name the state capitals?” he teased.
“There has to be something better than that,” she insisted.
“How about this,” he purred against her ear, then nipped the lobe.
Chasyn’s pulse instantly became erratic, fueled by his hot breath against her neck.
Declan dragged her onto his lap; at the same time his hands came to rest on her hips. His mouth found hers and he gently drew her lower lip into his mouth, then ever so slowly allowed it to slip away. His fingers dug into her flesh, pressing her down on his trapped erection.
Chasyn slipped her hand between them and undid his jeans and touched him, gently at first, then with more urgency. All the while his tongue made maddening circles against hers.
Declan reached up and effortlessly unfastened the small hook at the nape of her neck and the top half of her dress fell in a pool around her waist. His mouth dropped first to her throat, then lower to tease her nipple with his nimble tongue.
Her head dropped back and she began to push at his clothing. Declan kissed her parted lips and stood in one fluid motion. He was holding all her weight in one arm and removing his clothing with the other. Next he slipped his hand under her and ripped her thong off in a smooth action. He sat back down on the sofa, holding her just above him.
Chasyn was so ready for him that she guided him inside her in a single, powerful thrust. With her hands on his shoulders, she struggled to put off her orgasm but it was a fruitless effort. After just a few minutes, her body exploded and she rocked in his arms.
Declan wasn’t too far behind her, until they sat there spent and sweaty.
Chasyn immediately refastened her dress as she moved away from him. She glanced over and saw the remnants of her panties hooked on the ear of the dead bear rug. Oh well, it had been worth it.
Had it? She wondered. She was addicted to this man. This man who only thought of her as a temporary diversion. This man she loved. Chasyn excused herself and went into the restroom to freshen up. Well, maybe it was more to keep him from seeing the deep hurt in her eyes. What she needed was a good, ugly cry, but that wasn’t possible when they were in such close quarters.
She decided a bath would be the next best option. She opened the door and walked to the bedroom to get something from her suitcase. She opted for the most unflattering, unsexy thing she had—a running outfit that was comfortable and not very form fitting. Plus it was warm, which would help when they retired to the chilly bedroom without a fireplace.
“I’m taking a bath,” she yelled, then slammed the door before he could respond.
* * *
Declan sat on the sofa, sipping fresh, hot coffee he’d just made, watching the surveillance monitors and kicking himself. The way she’d practically flown out of the room rubbed him the wrong way. He would have been content to lie on the sofa for hours, maybe go a second time. Or, simply hold her until she fell asleep with that silken hair spread over his chest. But no. For some reason whenever they had sex he felt her put up a wall the minute it was over. He was doing something wrong but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what.
He thought back to his conversation with Gavin. Maybe it was different with Chasyn because she was different. Different from any woman he had ever known. Not once in his thirty-five years had he felt an inclination to snuggle. Yet that was exactly what he wanted to do with her. Well, one of several things. Gavin was right about her. Chasyn wasn’t a temporary fling. There, he’d said it. At least to himself. The huge step would be to tell her. But how? He’d never said “I love you” to a woman. Never. Not once. The mere thought of doing so scared the shit out of him.
She emerged about a half hour later with her hair dried, wearing some shapeless black outfit. Not that it mattered: he had every inch of her body committed to
memory.
“There’s coffee.”
Her nose wrinkled. “I’d be awake all night.”
“No bottled water, but there is wine.”
“A glass of wine would be nice,” she said.
Declan went to the small kitchen, retrieved the wine from the fridge and then got the opener from the small drawer next to the battered and chipped stove. “It’s going to have to be a literal glass of wine,” he said without turning around. “No wine glasses.”
“I’m not a snob,” she responded easily.
“No, you aren’t,” he agreed as he felt some of the tension begin to ebb from his body. When this was all over he’d find some way to tell her how he felt. But until then, he needed to stay focused on Müller. He couldn’t afford any distractions.
He had just finished pouring the wine when the electricity went out. He set the glass down and pulled his Glock from his waistband. “C’mon,” he said in a near whisper.
“What?” she asked.
Declan was listening intently for any strange sounds. “Where’s your gun?”
“In the bedroom.”
“Way to keep it on you at all times.” He took her by the arm and hurried her down the hallway. He had a bad feeling about this. The power never went out at the cabin. Which meant it was very likely that someone had disconnected the in-ground generator.
“This isn’t just a power blip, is it?” she asked with a fear-tinged voice.
“I doubt it. Pick up the gun, go in the closet and remember what I said.”
“Declan? Be careful!”
* * *
If she’d thought she was scared when Declan had a hold of her arm, it was nothing like being slouched in the closet with her heart pounding in her chest. Several minutes passed before she heard glass shatter. Then came a non-stop series of shots and she heard wood splinter and more glass breaking. Then an even scarier sound…silence.
She counted to fifty and then cracked the door an inch or so. She could smell gun powder. She wanted to call out for Declan but she was afraid of giving her location away. But she was more afraid of being alone.
Slowly, she crept out of the closet, mindful to stay below the window ledge. Glass crunched beneath her feet as she moved along the hallway. Every so often she’d see a place where a large-caliber bullet had pierced the building. Everything was eerily still save the flames flickering in the dying fire.
The front door was open and the gun Declan had left next to it was gone. His Glock was on the kitchen table. Chasyn hugged the wall until she was in a position to see out the crack between the bullet-ridden door and the front of the property. All she saw were shadows in the darkness.
Several shots rang out and she knew they were coming from the left. With her gun held firmly in both hands, she kept it pointed in front of her as she ventured out of the house. It wasn’t smart but it was a better option than leaving Declan out there alone with Müller.
Steadying her breathing, she listened in the quiet for some clue to follow. Then she heard footfalls in the distance. Two sets. Running full out. She headed in that direction, using the tree trunks like barricades as she went deeper into the woods.
She heard two more gunshots. Close. Following the sound, she neared a clearing. Relief washed over her when she saw Declan standing and a man lying on the ground. Declan had his rifle trained on the guy, who had both hands in front of his face.
“Declan?” she called.
“Way to stay in the closet, Chasyn,” he replied, a little out of breath.
She ignored his rebuke and went up next to him. Müller was on the ground and had a dark stain on his right shoulder. Just above his head was a pair of discarded night vision goggles. To his right was a nasty-looking rifle.
“Do you want me to go get something to tie him up with?” she asked.
“We’ll get him up fir—Jesus!” Declan cried out in pain.
It happened fast but somehow Müller had pulled a knife and buried it in Declan’s thigh. Müller was reaching for his rifle when Chasyn raised her gun and fired. She didn’t stop squeezing the trigger until she ran out of bullets.
“Well done,” Declan said.
Chasyn stared down at the dead man. She only counted two bullet strikes but one of those was in the center of his forehead. “But I fired like a dozen times and I was only three feet away.”
“Give me a hand,” he said as he draped his arm around her. “Damn it!” he said as he pulled the knife out of his thigh.
“Here,” Chasyn said, stripping off her shirt and tying it around the wound to stem the flow of blood. “Let’s get you back to the cabin.”
“Let’s get back into town,” he suggested.
“Mind if I put on a shirt first?” she asked as she helped him hobble back to the cabin.
* * *
A lot happened in the two weeks following the shooting. First and foremost, Chasyn was nursing the mother of all heartbreaks. She had done the smart thing, even if it was a little sneaky. She’d waited until the entire Kavanaugh clan was at the parole hearing, then called a cab to take her to the airport. She’d left Declan a simple note that read, I’m not what you need.
Apparently she’d been right, because she hadn’t heard a word from him since. She had heard from the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. They’d contacted her to give her the bounty the royal family had had on Müller’s head. Five hundred thousand dollars dead or alive. Dead seemed to be just fine with them. A cashier’s check arrived a few days later.
Which was how she ended up staying at The Breakers. A little treat and a great place to run on the beach in the morning and cry yourself to sleep at night. Oh, and the room service was amazing.
Second, and another reason for her heartbreak, was finding out who had hired Müller. When he was searched at the morgue, he’d been carrying a picture of her and Kasey. A picture only Mr. Becker could have supplied. Once she found that out, the rest of the pieces fell into place. Mr. Becker had blamed her for Kasey’s death, insisting that Kasey never would have gotten involved in the whole Mary Jolsten murder had it not been for Chasyn. Mr. Becker knew her whereabouts most of the time, so it was easy for him to send Müller toward Purdue after their last call. He’d known Declan’s last name and it had been simple for a man like Müller to figure out where they’d been hiding. In exchange for taking the death penalty off the table, Mr. Becker had agreed to let the authorities know all the details behind hiring Müller. This deal had also meant there wouldn’t be a trial, which Chasyn was happy to hear.
Finally, she’d decided not to return to Keller-Mason. The place wouldn’t be the same without Kasey there and she really had lost her professional drive. Five hundred thousand could do that to a girl.
Chasyn tied her shoes, grabbed her key, and left her hotel room. She went down past the pool, then took the stairs down from the seawall. After stretching, she ran to the sound of the waves lapping at the shore. The sky was blue, the water was turquoise…and she was miserable. But she would get through this. Someday Declan would be nothing more than a memory. Her heart wouldn’t squeeze at the mere thought of him and eventually she’d go a whole day without crying. But today wasn’t that day. She wiped at the tears stinging her eyes as she made the turn to run the two miles back to the hotel.
The morning sun was bright, so she shielded her eyes to make sure she didn’t overshoot the private entrance back onto the hotel grounds. That’s when she saw him. Even at a hundred yards, she’d know Declan Kavanaugh anywhere. Her pulse quickened and her heart rate increased the closer she got to where he sat on the seawall. Be cool, she told herself. He’s probably just here to drop off my car. The one she hadn’t bothered to reclaim when she got back to Palm Beach County.
“You’re a hard woman to find,” he said.
His voice was even deeper and silkier than she remembered. “I’m registered under my real name.”
As soon as she climbed the stairs, she noticed he had a thick manila envelope with him. Great; he wa
s probably going to claim some of the reward money. Oh well, he’d certainly earned it. “How’s your leg?” she asked, careful to keep her tone conversational.
“Practically healed,” he answered. “Can I talk to you?”
“Go right ahead.”
“I mean someplace more private. Like your room?”
She eyed him suspiciously. “There’s no sex in it for you.”
He smiled at her and it had the predictable effect. Okay, so she wasn’t immune.
“I just need about five minutes of your time, Chasyn. Then if you want me to, I’ll leave.”
She sighed, knowing full well she should decline. But her mouth formed the word “yes.”
He followed her up to her room. It was a small suite with a large bed, and a small table and chaise over by the window overlooking the ocean. Everything was white—white spread, white sheets, white curtains. The maid had tidied up, so when they entered the room smelled of fresh lavender.
Chasyn kicked off her shoes and socks and got a bottle of water out of the mini-fridge. “Want something?”
He simply smiled.
“Something from the mini?” she clarified.
“Just sit and hear me out.”
“Okay.” She sat at the small round table and he scooted his chair around so their knees touched. To her it was like getting tazed.
“I’ve had these drawn up and I want you to read them,” he said as he pulled a stack of legal documents in blue covers from the envelope.
She glanced at the title of the first one. “Business Partnership Agreement?”
“Just read it.”
“I can’t go into business with you. If you want half of the money I got from—”
He placed his finger to her lips. “Just read them.”
She read the first line, paused and read it aloud. “This agreement between Declan John Kavanaugh and Chasyn Summers Kavanaugh? What is this, some sort of joke?”
“No,” he said, taking her hands in his. “I want you to marry me.”
“No,” she said as she pulled her hands free. “You don’t. It isn’t who you are. You’d be fine for a while but then you’d learn to resent me for making you change your life.”
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