Dangerous Kiss

by Avery Flynn

  A plastic sandwich bag lay at the bottom of the tank. It had sunk so far down, it forced the valve to stay open. A phone and flash drive were visible inside the clear plastic Baggie.

  Holy crap. I’ve found it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Claire twirled around and performed her happy dance in the claustrophobic bathroom stall. It was part hip shimmy, part ass shake and all celebration. She’d found it. Giggling, she added some shoulder bounces to the soundtrack playing in her head. Sure, she’d discovered it by fluke, but still she’d found it!

  “Jake, come in here! You won’t believe what I found!”

  The phone and flash drive were wedged in the valve so that water continuously rushed into the tank but didn’t accumulate. Even though the tank held only an inch of water, plucking the plastic Baggie from its depths skeeved her out. Grimacing, she dipped her hand into the tank, grabbed it with the tips of her fingers and pulled it above the water line. The information hidden away on the phone and flash drive had caused so much misery. Her heart skipped a beat.

  Bad vibes hovered in the air. Goose bumps dotted her bare arms and she flicked her gaze around the bathroom, looking for the source of her discomfort. She half expected to find Darcy tucked away in the corner, ready to pounce. But he was in police custody. No one lurked in the shadows ready to kill her for the information on the devices. Still, anxiety buzzed in the back of her mind like a tiny mosquito.

  She stared at the plastic sandwich bag, unable to rip it open. A person died because of this phone and flash drive, the information they held could still pose a danger. Her logical side urged her to stop being so namby-pamby and open the damn thing.

  Legally, she needed to get the phone and flash drive to Hank. She knew that. But there was no way she’d give it to him before finding out what information was worth Kendall’s life. Too much had happened to ignore the answers in her lap. She shrugged; she’d find a way to explain it to Hank.

  She unsnapped the bag and yanked out the pink phone. Without pausing, she pushed the button to power it up. Kendall’s smiling face stared up at her. The dead girl’s arms hung around a frat boy’s neck, her eyelids at half-mast. They wore New Year’s Eve hats. An extended party blower jutted from Kendall’s mouth. It pointed at Claire like an accusing finger.

  “Jake, where are you?”

  A pan clanked against the kitchen floor.

  “You okay? Do you need help?”

  Another small crash sounded. “I’ve got it.”

  Judging by his gruff tone, Claire figured her offer must have offended his testosterone-required pride. Men.

  Intent on her discovery, she shook the canary-yellow flash drive onto her palm. What if it really did hold the key to three million dollars? The thought blew her away. She needed to get to her laptop. Clutching the evidence, she hightailed it out of the bathroom.

  She glanced down at the cellphone photo, certain she’d done right by the girl. “Don’t you worry, Kendall. We got him.”

  Her attention glued to her prize, Claire turned the corner into the kitchen and tripped. Her knees pounded against the floor. Pain erupted in her kneecaps as violently as an egg exploding in the microwave.

  “Shit!”

  Dragging in a ragged breath, she looked over her shoulder to see what she’d stumbled over.

  Jake lay unnaturally still in the threshold.

  The earth stopped spinning as anguish squeezed out the rest of the world. Had he tripped and fallen against the dish rack? That would explain the earlier noise.

  Ignoring her aching knees, she crawled over to him. “Jake!”

  His eyes remained shut. He didn’t move, not even to flinch at her panicked cry.

  The right side of his face appeared red and swollen. A deep gash above his right eye dripped blood onto the floor. She dabbed at the blood, relieved to see him jerk back when she touched his injury.

  “Thank God, with all that’s happened you scared me there. Jake, are you okay? Talk to me.” Desperate to elicit a response, she grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

  He groaned and blinked, smiling slow and easy. The fear tightening her chest eased a bit. She caressed his cheek and he lifted himself to his elbows. Her heart traveled back from her throat to her chest. She remembered to breathe again.

  “What happened?” His words slipped out in a woozy tone. Confusion danced across his face for a moment. Desperation soon replaced it. He grabbed her wrist in a tight squeeze.

  “Claire, get out. Get out now.” His words were a hard whisper.

  “Wha—”

  A throat cleared behind her and an intense and immediate dark haze of terror thickened around her. She jumped up and spun around.

  “You’re not going anywhere.” The voice, low and rusty, sent a chill careening up her spine.

  She took stock of her enemy. The man was huge, like professional-wrestler big. His shiny bald head sat on top of a nearly nonexistent neck. A diamond stud, at least a carat in size, sparkled in his ear. He clenched an extinguished cigar between his teeth, its foul stink wafting out from his black T-shirt.

  But it wasn’t his image that freaked her out the most. No. It was his gaze, unemotional and cold, that told her everything she needed to know.

  He’d come here to kill her.

  Panic ripped through her body at the realization. Claire bolted for a weapon. She had to protect herself and Jake.

  The thug yanked her up by the straps on her dress. He held her so high her feet barely touched the ground. She lashed out. Desperate to escape, she kicked her legs backward. Aiming for his nuts, she only connected with his concrete thighs.

  “Hel—”

  His hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her scream.

  She squirmed as he pulled her in, holding her tight against his chest. She tried to elbow him in the ribs, but couldn’t get the leverage. His right arm held her to him in an iron grip, trapping the hand holding the phone and flash drive to her chest.

  Terrified, she struggled in his arms but couldn’t get away. Sweat made her arms slick as she twisted and squirmed. She shrieked into the palm covering her mouth. Hysteria filled her. Escape. She had to get out. Her gaze darted around the room, seeking salvation.

  Like an answered prayer, Jake pushed himself up and made it to his knees, but the goon leveled a solid kick to his side. He crumpled to the floor.

  An adrenaline-fueled frenzy took over Claire’s body. She yanked her arms against the giant’s vise-tight grip. Like a trapped animal, her sole focus became freedom.

  “Stop moving or I’ll make it hurt more,” the giant rasped.

  His threat intensified her need to break free. She kicked her legs, connecting with his knee. He didn’t even flinch. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jake labor to get up. His slow movements gave her hope, provided the impetus to fight on. She flailed against him, but her captor ignored her ineffective jabs and kicks. Instead his gaze locked on Jake.

  “Stay down.” The thug kicked him in the head, knocking him to a prone position. “I’ll be back for you.”

  Jake lay unmoving, his jaw slack. She went rigid with fear. His chest’s erratic jerks up and down were the only signs of life.

  Transformed into a wild woman, she clawed at her captor’s muscled arms. She slammed the back of her head against his sternum. He barely grunted.

  The goon flipped Claire over his shoulder like a fifty-pound bag of dog food. Grasping the phone and flash drive in one hand, she beat her other fist against his back. She tugged up his black T-shirt and scraped her fingernails across his exposed flesh.

  “Keep doing that, bitch, and I’ll kill you for fun.”

  He lumbered out of the kitchen toward Harvest’s dining room.

  She grabbed the doorframe and clung to the beveled wood, but his forward motion continued. Her fingernails scraped across the wood. Splinters embedded under her nails, making her scream out in pain.

  But she refused to give up. He’d kill her no matter what she
did. Well, he’d have a hell of a fight on his hands.

  She screamed for help. The dining room’s noise-reducing ceiling tiles absorbed her cries. Fighting against the panic threatening to render her immobile, she knew she had to escape.

  Flailing, she knocked over table tents describing the week’s specials. Her hand dragged across a smooth tabletop. Desperate for any weapon, she grasped a set of silverware. Letting out a guttural yell, she lifted it above her head and with every ounce of power she had, she plunged the knife and fork into the goon’s lower back. They sank into his flesh like a knife gutting a suckling pig. Blood spurted from the wound.

  “You bitch,” he roared.

  He threw her down. Pain rocketed through her head as it bounced against the wood floor. Stunned, she couldn’t move. But it only took a moment for abject terror to motivate her muscles. Her head foggy, she lurched onto her feet and scurried back.

  Reaching around with a meaty hand, he plucked the bloody utensils from his back and flung the knife and fork down. They clanked against the pine floor.

  “You’ll pay for that.” He thundered after her.

  Claire turned and ran as if the devil himself were at her heels. She weaved around tables, aiming for the panic alarm on the hostess stand. His footsteps pounded closer.

  If she could just push the button, she and Jake would be safe. Hank would be there in a matter of minutes.

  She stretched her arm forward, but went sailing backward.

  Gripping her hair in his hand, he tossed her to the floor. He stood over her, his chest heaving and his face flushed. Veins bulged from what little neck he had. Quick as lightning, he leaned down and backhanded her across the face.

  For one heartbeat she felt nothing except the certainty that this was going to hurt like hell. In the next moment, throbbing agony took over. Her teeth felt as if they’d been knocked loose.

  “You’d better pray I don’t need stitches, bitch.”

  Her survival instinct in control, Claire kicked him in the balls. She had enough time to get up to her feet and turn toward the kitchen. But not enough to take a step. He cuffed her again in the head. She staggered.

  Looking into the goon’s eyes, she saw only death. He snarled at her. A strange sense of calm came over her, as if she had become an observer instead a participant in the melee. Everything around her came into greater focus. The colors became brighter and her thoughts registered faster.

  There were only two things this thug wanted more than her head on a silver platter, the phone and the flash drive. But without them, investigators wouldn’t have a motive for Kendall’s murder. Darcy could walk away a free man.

  “You ready to die?” He growled the words.

  No. She wanted to live. For once, she wouldn’t just react. Too much was at stake. She’d play it smart, save Jake and avenge Kendall.

  In a last ditch effort to survive, she threw the phone and flash drive in one direction then ran in the other. She didn’t stick around to see what he decided to go after. She had to get to the kitchen. Once there, she’d get Jake. They could escape out the delivery entrance.

  Her bare feet slapped on the tile floor. A second set echoed her own.

  Shit.

  Claire dashed toward the kitchen. But he was faster. His hand locked around her wrist. He whirled her around. The malevolent gleam in his eye made her breath catch. She tried to pry his fingers off of her, the whole time hearing someone scream in the distance.

  The goon popped her in the face, sending her sprawling to the floor. “I said shut up your screaming.”

  It hadn’t been someone else yelling. That panicked crying had been from her.

  He hauled her to her feet and dragged her toward the door. She fumbled along, her vision blurry. Blood dripped from her nose down her chin. He paused by the hostess stand, squatted down and swiped the phone and flash drive off the floor. The small devices disappeared into his fleshy hand.

  She couldn’t go out into the parking lot. Hank had always told her the biggest mistake some victims make is to get into the killer’s car. She had to fight to her last breath.

  “You’ll never get away with this.”

  “I already have.”

  He pulled her out into Harvest’s dim parking lot, lit only by streetlights. A sedan idled near the Dumpster. A sense of déjà vu echoed through her. Another night, another violent predator, and once again she was prey.

  He didn’t look at her. His focus was on the sedan. She could tell from his body language that he had dismissed her as a frail, broken girl who wouldn’t fight back anymore.

  Damn, it pissed her off. She may be small, but she sure as hell wasn’t weak. He thought she was; most people did. But maybe this time, she could use that to her advantage. They were only a few steps from the car. It was now or never. She held her breath and let her whole body turn to jelly.

  The action jerked the goon off balance, brought his face closer to hers. She slammed the heel of her palm against his nose. Blood squirted everywhere.

  Flush with success, she pulled away from him, fighting for freedom. But his meaty paw clung to her wrist.

  Jake’s eyes snapped open. At first he had no idea why he was on Harvest’s kitchen floor. Then the memories rushed in.

  He had pulled on his jeans when Claire had called his name from the bathroom. Her squeal of delight had captured his attention and he had shuffled down the hallway, pulling his shirt on as he moved. He’d only made it a few steps into the kitchen when the guy slammed into him from behind. The rest still registered as a blur.

  An image that came through with clarity though was Claire’s concerned face looking down into his. His heart had lifted at the sight of her. But his spirits had sunk faster than the Titanic when he had spotted his assailant looming behind her tiny frame. And he hadn’t been able to help her.

  His body tensed and his pulse went into overdrive. He tried to push himself to a sitting position but dizziness enveloped him and he collapsed onto his back. She needed him. He wouldn’t fail her. Not again. Furious at himself, he jerked into a sitting position. A wave of nausea washed over him. He held his breath until it passed.

  He hated himself right now. The guy had beaten the crap out of him and taken Claire. He’d failed her. Disgusted, he realized, he had no idea how long ago that had happened. But he had to find her. He’d promised her she’d be safe with him. Some protector he’d been.

  His peripheral vision was for shit. What he could see had a slight halo around it. He shook his head as he pushed himself upright.

  Claire’s scream for help echoed through the restaurant, followed by a man’s roar. Jake’s gut constricted. She was still here. He wobbled forward on rubbery legs. He had to get to her. Save her.

  Aching, he staggered farther into the kitchen looking for a weapon. A bonanza of choices awaited him.

  Jake grabbed a cast-iron skillet and dashed into the dining room, fury feeding his need for vengeance. But he was too late. They weren’t in the dining room. He sped past a set of bloody cutlery. Blood rushing in his ears, he dashed around overturned chairs. From the looks of it, Claire had put up a hell of a fight.

  He spotted them in the parking lot.

  The assailant tugged Claire toward a black sedan parked near the Dumpster. Jake sped out the door clutching the skillet like a baseball bat. His bare feet had just touched the asphalt parking lot when he saw Claire’s body go limp. His steps faltered.

  But half a second later, she slammed her hand into the man’s face. Blood gushed from the attacker’s nose. A proud smile spread across Jake’s face.

  That’s my girl.

  Too bad the asshole wasn’t hurt enough to let her go. Jake mentally shrugged. Claire’s blow had been enough to distract the intruder from hearing Jake’s approach. That was all the opening he needed. Neither noticed him as he came up behind.

  The man pulled Claire’s battered face close to his. “Time to pay.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” Jake smashed a c
ast-iron skillet against the man’s skull.

  It made a dull thunk upon impact. The assailant fell to the ground in a heap, silent and unmoving. Jake dropped the skillet and reached for Claire. The pan clanked as it bounced off the asphalt. The goon didn’t flinch. He was out cold.

  Pulling her to him, he buried his nose in her auburn hair. Despite everything, the scent of coconut soothed away his anger and worry. Unwilling to take even half a step away from her, he clutched her to his body.

  Their lips met in a flurry of unspoken emotions. He wanted it all to come through, all the things he couldn’t find the words to say. The fear that had twisted his insides when he thought he’d been too late. The bone-melting relief when he folded her in his arms. The lust that had somewhere along the way transformed into love. The truth of that reality electrified him.

  She broke the kiss. Laid her cheek against his chest. Unsure of what he should say, how he could tell her, his mind went blank. He blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

  “Sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

  She tilted her face up. “Yeah, your timing could have been better.” She grinned at him.

  He wiped her bloodied nose clean with his thumb. Pain flashed in her eyes.

  “Claire, I’m so sorry. I should have—”

  “Shh.” She dusted his bruised face with a flutter of small kisses. “We’re quite the pair.”

  He grinned down at her. He’d talk to her later, find a way to get her to move to Denver. Now that he’d found her, he wasn’t leaving Dry Creek without her. He glanced down at the unconscious man at their feet.

  “We’ve gotta call the cops.”

  Claire grabbed the phone and flash drive from where the goon had dropped them. A deep crack split the cellphone’s screen and the buttons didn’t respond to her fingers. “It’s not working.”

  “Come on, our phones are inside.”

  She wavered a bit. He clasped her hand in his and they hurried to the restaurant. Energy coursed through his body as he planned how to talk Claire into leaving her hometown.

  As they mounted the steps, a figure emerged from the shadows. “It seems your services are no longer required, Mr. Warrick.”