Flashback

by Cait London

  Rachel sensed Shane’s anger, his eyes bright with it, and his cold smile raised the hair on her nape. In odd timing, she suddenly noted how small and sharp and long his teeth appeared and compared them to the strong, blunt shape of Kyle’s. She knew the shape of Kyle’s teeth; he’d certainly nibbled enough on her body….

  “Are you in trouble, Rachel?” Shane asked gently, smoothly, the words evidently used often. “Here, come sit on the love seat while I get the tea tray. It’s a wonderful calming tea, and you look as though you might need that now—and maybe a listening ear, a caring heart?”

  Could Mallory really have been drawn into Shane’s superior treatment of women?

  “It’s so difficult. I don’t know where to begin,” Rachel said, playing into the part of a woman who needed a strong shoulder to lean on, advice to guide her. Helpless Female wasn’t a role she’d ever played—except that horrifying night when she’d been attacked and shattered—and she hoped that Shane would take the bait.

  Apparently, he did. His smile warmed, those full lips curving as he patted her shoulder. “I’ll just be a minute and then we can talk.”

  Rachel waited, her large tote bag at her side, the contents certain to get a response from Shane. She just had time to enter his study and glimpse his computer—the screen was lit, his notebook on the desk—before he returned with the tray. When he removed the teapot’s quilted cozy, the elegant china pot matched the gilt floral design of the cups and saucers.

  “Very nice,” Rachel said as she sat on the love seat and he sat in a chair opposite from her, pouring the tea with delicate, almost feminine movements. His hands were long and pale and smooth. In contrast, she thought of Kyle’s hands—big, calloused, and lightly flecked with hair. Her body tightened and she shivered as she thought of Kyle, of the night and morning that had passed. Her day-long drive back to Neptune’s Landing was filled with sensual memories—and a frantic sorting of what she had learned about Mallory’s life and her daughter, Katrina.

  She had to move fast, taking Shane to task before Kyle returned, challenging her head-on tactics to cause Mallory’s blackmailer to show his hand. She crossed her legs, deliberately letting her short skirt rise to her thighs and Shane tensed, his gaze darkening, locking to them.

  Shane was definitely interested in women, but there was something else, too. She studied his features and compared the picture of Katrina to him. The hair appeared to be the same, straight, fine, brown. The resemblance could be just a little in those soft lips….

  They sipped tea through the usual discussions of Jada’s housekeeping and ice cream businesses to pay off her credit cards with her ex-husband. The weather topic came next, and then the opening Rachel had hoped for appeared: Shane moved to the love seat and took her hand. “Tell me what’s wrong, dear Rachel. May I help? Why have you come back to me?”

  Back to me…. She tried to take the phrase apart and couldn’t. She suddenly felt drowsy and too tired; the aftereffects of two days of driving and a lovemaking marathon with Kyle, and worrying about the girl called Katrina had caught up with her. Determined to move quickly, she said, “I thought since you knew so much about my sister, that we should get better acquainted.”

  Shane’s fine features tightened and he leaned closer. “That would be so nice.”

  “I was wondering why you stayed in Neptune’s Landing, when it’s usual to rotate in the ministry, isn’t it? You’ve been here—ten years?” Are you the father of Katrina?

  “I found something here that I liked very much. Neptune’s Landing is really home for me now, and the board agreed with my decision to stay permanently. I think I might have left my ministry if they had decided otherwise.” He touched Rachel’s hair lightly and it chilled her.

  Unable to look away from Shane’s long, sharp teeth, Rachel found her warning senses dimmed by an incredible need to sleep. Shane looked down at her legs as though he were dying to touch them, lust plainly revealed in his expression. “I know that we can be friends,” he whispered in an eerie soft tone that both seduced and terrified as he leaned closer.

  She knew instantly how a mouse would feel, cornered by a very big, powerful, unfriendly cat with sharp fangs. Kyle had been right: she shouldn’t have come—but she had to see Shane’s reaction.

  “You asked if I would return the other things that you had given Mallory. I think I found them,” she said, trying to focus as she reached inside her bag.

  “I’m more interested in you right now—what you need. What do you need, dear Rachel?” Shane’s hand slid around her shoulders and downward, caressing, kneading. He seemed fascinated with her high strappy heels and reached to fondle one lovingly before he looked at her again. “Mallory used to wear that style. I know you’ve slept with Kyle, the same as she did at first, before I taught her how to be a lady. You can do better than that mechanic. He has a certain raw power, I give him that, but you’re too good for him. An educated, powerful businesswoman like yourself needs more. I could help and guide you…we could take that trip to Paris—”

  Her lips and throat were dry, her tongue felt heavy, but Rachel forced herself to say, “The things I found are on the table.”

  Shane glanced at the book of poetry on the table, the woman’s gold ring gleaming upon it. He frowned and stated flatly, “You found them. Did you find anything else?”

  Did you find anything else? The words echoed distantly in her brain as Rachel tried to keep her eyes open. But her lids were heavy as she stared at him, trying to stay awake. Shane’s hand gripped her thigh, holding her as he leaned closer, pressing her back against the love seat. “You’re beautiful, Rachel. Sensual—” His eyes took in her body, the tight sweater she’d worn to test him. “Desirable. We can share—”

  Her body wouldn’t respond immediately as she tried to move away, and distantly, Rachel knew she had to escape. When she tried to stand, Shane held her immobile, his eyes burning into hers, his hand hard and searching on her breasts. “Let it happen, Rachel. You know you’re attracted to me—”

  She reached for the tea service, fumbled until she found the teapot’s handle and forced her arm to lift and—

  Shane’s furious shout rocked the room as the hot tea scalded his neck and shoulders, the pot breaking with the force of the blow. Forcing herself to move quickly, Rachel stood and stumbled to the door.

  In the fresh air and moving quickly, Rachel’s drowsy, heavy feeling eased. She slid off the high heels, grabbed them, and hurried down the rock pathway; she leaped into her car and the tires squalled as she drove away. In the rearview mirror, her eyes were still heavy lidded, but her expression was furious. Hurrying to her apartment, she unlocked the dead bolt and the door, locking them behind her with shaking hands.

  Rachel hugged her body. Then, angry with Shane, she picked up the telephone and punched in his number. After a moment, he answered briskly.

  “You drugged me. Is that what you did with Mallory?” Rachel demanded.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We had tea and then, because you’re a sexual addict like your sister, you attacked me. A woman, coming here, this time of night, dressed as you were, has one thing on her mind.”

  “You come over here, you bastard, and you’ll get more than a few burns—”

  “I’m scalded, you witch—”

  Rachel was quick to snag that word—“Witch? As in voodoo doll? What do you know about that?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shane added a few ungentlemanly phrases about her, and Rachel smiled grimly. At least she’d gotten him to shed his skin to the snake beneath.

  “Then go to an emergency ward and explain to them how you got injured—drugging and trying to force yourself on me.”

  Shaking, trying to calm herself, Rachel brewed a pot of strong black tea, drinking it as she ate a huge slice of chocolate cake on the kitchen counter; Jada had used Trina’s keys to bring the cake and had left a glad-you’re back note. Rachel put down her fork, her mind starti
ng to click, reason setting in. After arriving home, she’d been in a hurry to change her online banking and credit card passwords, to dress for her “interview” with Shane, and she’d forgotten the gun. She glanced to the table where Kyle had left his semi-automatic—it was missing.

  But then, Rachel reasoned again, Jada or Trina had cleaned the apartment, made her bed, and probably had the sense to hide the handgun. “I’m blowing things out of proportion, Mallory, that’s all. No one has been here. I’ll call Mom and Jada in the morning and my sister isn’t going to be happy—”

  At the sound of the ringing telephone, Rachel’s anger hiked back up again. She picked it up and stated coldly, “Okay, Shane. All they have to do is to check your telephone records and they’ll see that you dialed here. I’m not done with you. I’m going to find out everything—and the next time you tap into someone’s accounts, you won’t have the right passwords.”

  Silence pulsed ominously for a moment, followed by a rough scratching sound, and then the line went dead.

  Rachel replaced the telephone and tried to control her chilling fear. The calls always came when she was in her apartment; someone was tracking her movements.

  There were three new messages on her private machine, ones she hadn’t taken time to dump before going to Shane’s. Rachel held her breath before pushing the Play button. Kyle’s clipped tone said he wasn’t happy.

  “Hardheaded woman” didn’t exactly sound like a lover’s greeting, before he continued brusquely, frustration in his deep tone. “You jump into this thing before I get back and there’s certain to be trouble. You didn’t return my call to your cell phone and that probably means that you’re stirring up trouble that you might not be able to handle. Moses is back in Reno, getting the girls settled, out of harm’s way, or I’d have him there. You’re going to explode this whole thing, aren’t you? When you want something, you’re too quick and too hardheaded and not one lick of sense. Nola is taking Katrina on a quick trip to Chicago, to see the museums there and to get her to safety. Don’t make this thing blow before I’m back, Rachel…honey,” he added tightly, as if attempting to soften his direct order and threat.

  Kyle’s second call was curt. “Call me. Now.”

  His third was accompanied by the rushing sound of wind on a car, the grind of gears changing. “I’m headed toward Neptune’s Landing, about two hours out—nine o’clock now—and I’m not happy. Stay put. I called your mother and she said you’d checked in, so I know you’re in town. Thanks a lot for not returning my calls. We’re going to have to work on our relationship—dear. Just as soon as I get my hands on you—honey.”

  After an attack by Shane and an anonymous hang-up, Rachel wasn’t in the mood for Kyle’s threats. She called his office number, leaving a welcome-back-lover message: “I’ve been busy and I don’t like taking orders. You’ve already had your hands on me, Scanlon. Rest up. You’re going to need it, if you try to order me around.”

  She sat on the coffee table, tried to calm herself into straight thinking, and mulled the hang-up. Shane had been clean-shaven a short time ago and the sound of scratching sounded like a man’s stubble.

  “A. Shane had too much to say to hang up. B. Kyle had plenty to say, too…. C. There were no other hang-ups, except late this afternoon, when I got back. This guy knew I was at the hotel, used my credit card information to find me, and he knows I’m back in Neptune’s Landing. I changed my online banking and credit card passwords as soon as I got home, so he can’t do that again. The question is, how did he get them in the first place?”

  She listened to Nine Balls’ sign swinging outside, creaking in the wind. “Mallory, help me. A daughter—you had a daughter and didn’t tell me. I would have kept her safe. Katrina…you named her after Mom. I was so tied up in getting a start in my career that I didn’t pay attention to you, and you had a baby girl—I should have been there for you.”

  The stress of the hard day, the clash with Shane, and the heavy knowledge that Mallory had probably been drugged, too, suddenly hit Rachel. She’d been in fast forward, and now tiny pieces of her were falling away. She doubled over, holding herself, and gave way to the tears burning her lids.

  Her sobs echoed in the apartment, her throat dry and tight, her face damp. She hurried to tear away the clothing she’d worn to bring Shane out of his professional minister’s role and then stumbled to the couch. With shaking hands, she lit the candles in the dish of stones she’d collected with her sisters, and then lay back, curling on the couch to watch the flames. “It’s so unlike me to break down, Mallory. But my sister had a baby. My sister—and never told me. What you must have gone through….”

  But Mallory had had Kyle, hadn’t she?

  “Why couldn’t you have turned to me?” The answer came back to her immediately: “Because of Jada and Mom, right?”

  The apartment was too quiet and the slight scent of vanilla curled around Rachel. I’ll always be with you….

  “You’d better well be. I’ve got a feeling I’m going to need you. Don’t you dare leave me now, not until this thing is over.”

  “I’m going to enjoy killing that no-good…. He’s troubled me enough. Everything was fine until he started messing with Mallory, filling her head with rebellion against me. I should have killed him long ago, but with Rachel pushing for answers and him bedding her, I can’t wait any longer.”

  He hated Kyle Scanlon with a fury, the other man in Mallory’s life, encouraging her to leave town, to run away and start new. “I would have never let her go, and Mallory knew it. She knew that I’d make good my promise to hurt her sisters if she even thought she could move away from me.”

  At eleven o’clock, Kyle’s apartment was dark and silent as the man moved through it. He carried the semi-automatic, but didn’t plan to use it as he set the scene for arson. But if Kyle returned before he finished his business, the handgun was protection against a man who was fit and tough.

  Rachel had come back from her rendezvous with Kyle, and that meant he’d be coming after her. “She went to that cheap motel with him, hot for him, just like a whore. He’s got family there, in ChakChak, Idaho. I give her that much—Rachel tracked him down. It will be interesting to see what he does when they’re hurt—or dead. But he won’t be around for that—he’ll be in prison for insurance fraud, or he’ll be dead, because I’m tired of him interfering with my women.”

  Headlights flashed in the office window, and the man backed into the shadows. He watched Kyle get out of the Hummer and decided that he couldn’t wait any longer—Kyle Scanlon would die tonight. Just then, Rachel’s cat zipped by him into the storeroom. “Good idea, Harry.”

  The cat was retching and Kyle would be certain to look for him. And then he would die. The intruder chuckled and moved into the storeroom, knocking over a few boxes as he moved. “Scanlon will bend to pick them up and when he does, I have him. Problem solved.”

  He looked at the goo the cat had brought up, the way it clung to his shoe and cursed quietly. A meticulous man, he retched as he waited. “When this place burns, you’ll burn, too, cat.”

  “Stay. You get out of the car, stir up Harry, and I’ll never find him.” Kyle ignored Pup’s soft whining and closed the Hummer door. Cool, salt-scented mist circled Kyle as he lifted one warning finger when the dog barked inside the rig; a spray of Pup’s drool landed on the window, sliding down it. “Great. Slobber all you want. You have one minute before I get Harry and take him to Rachel. Maybe, with her cat in my hand, she won’t hurt me.”

  The soft glow of the tire advertising sign appeared in his office, and Kyle briefly glanced around at the garage, then selected the key from his ring. Inside and on his way back to his apartment, he pushed his new message machine’s Play button and heard Rachel’s crisp tell-off message. “Sweet. That’s my girl.”

  Harry couldn’t be seen in Kyle’s apartment, but it looked as if he had been having fun shredding the furniture. Kyle ran his hand over the clawed expensive leather of his rec
liner and shook his head. “In a bad mood, Harry? Didn’t like dry cat food for these three days? Come on, come out wherever you are…. I’m taking you back to Rachel and let her deal with you.”

  In no mood to play games with the cat, Kyle quickly searched the inventoried racks of his storeroom. Harry had left wads of fur along the shelves, and several of the lighter boxes had been pushed to the floor.

  Harry meowed loudly, and on his way to find the cat, Kyle stepped over a hair ball. After a second glance, he bent down to look closer. Someone else hadn’t seen the cat’s vomit, stepping onto it. A shoe print had been stamped into the orangish mess and had carried the stuff for a few more steps.

  “Moses wears biker boots and he’s about an hour from town,” Kyle noted softly, before the world crashed in on his head….

  He came to in a swirling red mass of pain, with explosions going off in his head. His face was in something sticky, and dazed, Kyle hoped it wasn’t the cat’s hair ball….

  Razor sharp pain went through his head as he lifted it, and his ribs and back felt as if an elephant were standing on him. He forced one swollen eye open and was almost grateful that the sticky stuff was his own blood. Slowly, painfully, easing himself into a sitting position as a wave of nausea hit him, Kyle listened to the explosions outside the garage. He caught the scent of smoke and saw it curling toward him. The smell of gas burned his nose and his clothes seemed damp.

  Harry chose that moment to walk around a shelving unit and onto Kyle’s lap. The cat hissed, hackles raised as smoke and heat came nearer. Kyle managed to loop his arm around Harry before he passed out.