But why would anyone hurt Demi? And who the fuck knew that he’d be at Spruce Tip? He hadn’t even known himself until late last night, and he had not told a living soul. Nor had he been seen getting into the boat at the Avery boat ramp. He’d bet money on it.
He couldn’t figure out where these facts pointed, but it was nowhere good.
The town sparkled on the distant lakeshore. Police flashers pulsed red and blue at the marina. They gave him déjà vu. His hike down the canyon for Terry seemed like a lifetime ago, but it was only a few hours.
The big, heavy guy whose coat he had taken had regained consciousness. He stared up at them through puffy, hate-filled eyes.
Eric nudged him with his foot. “Who hired you, asshole?”
The guy spat blood, and let out a wheezy snort of laughter. He leered at Demi, who was now huddled in her winter jacket, as far away from the heap of trussed men as the boat would allow.
“Hey, bitch,” he crooned. “You know what? I’m almost sorry for you. You musta been a real bad girl for Daddy to hate you so goddamn much.”
Demi stood, took a moment to steady herself and then hauled off and kicked him in the balls. The man jackknifed with a sharp grunt of pain. “Fucking cunt,” he hissed.
“Tell it to the cops,” Demi said.
Tough talk, but her face was ashen. But that scum would spout anything that came into his head to get under her skin. It was an unthinkable lie. It had to be.
Not even an asshole like Benedict Vaughan could do that to his own daughter.
15
The morning was a blur. Eric gave his report, and Demi must have done the same in some other room, but he didn’t see her, or Benedict Vaughan either. At one point, he saw old man Shaw through the glass, talking to Chief Bristol and looking worried and agitated.
Eric had declined a medical examination. It was just bruises and his shoulder was the worst of it, badly bruised and throbbing hard. But it wasn’t bad enough to spend hours tied up in a time-sucking hospital bureaucracy while someone was out there gunning for Demi.
When the cop wrapped up her report, Eric refilled his cup from a coffee machine and walked out to find Demi arguing with her grandfather in the corridor.
“…kidnapping attempt?” Henry Shaw bawled. “What the hell is going on around here, and where the hell is your father? Did you call him again?”
“Six times at last count, Granddad. No response. Chief Bristol said that Dad told him he was out of town, but that he’d hurry back as fast as he could.”
“Out of town? What in God’s name possessed him to go out of town?”
“Don’t know, Granddad. I saw him last night before I went to Spruce Tip, and he didn’t say anything to me about leaving town. Maybe he just took a drive. Got an itch.”
“He’s been an itch since the day I met him,” Shaw growled.
Then Demi caught sight of him. Her smile was so startlingly beautiful, the rush of it lifted him right up off his feet.
“There he is,” she said. “The man of the hour. All hail the conquering hero.”
“Please,” he muttered. “Don’t even.”
“Why not? It’s true. You kicked ass.”
“You!” Henry Shaw scowled at him beneath his bushy white brows.
Eric sipped the stale coffee, raising his eyebrows. “What about me?”
“He saved my ass, Granddad,” Demi said in a warning tone. “Be nice.”
“He shouldn’t have been out there with you in the first place!”
“But isn’t it incredibly, fabulously lucky that he was? Come on. Admit it.”
“You shouldn’t have been there either! You are coming home with me, young lady!”
“No, Granddad.” Demi’s voice had the flat, weary tone of someone who’d already repeated herself many times. “I can’t do that right now.”
“You’re heading off to your townhouse, where you live all alone? At least I have a decent security system!”
“She can stay with me,” Eric announced.
Demi sputtered something, but Shaw talked right over her. “Excuse me? You?”
“At Otis’s place. Otis’s gun is there if I need it. I was a Marine, sir. Like Otis, like you. I’ll be her security system. Like I was on the island.”
“Thanks, Eric, but it’s not up to you, either,” Demi said. “I live in a townhouse on a busy street with my neighbors crowded up on either side of me. No one is going to try to abduct me this morning in broad daylight. We’ll talk later, Granddad. Please, go home.”
“Goddamn stubborn female. Always have been. From day one.” He frowned at Eric. “I wanted to kick your ass, but now I suppose I have to thank you,” he added gruffly.
“Not necessary,” Eric said. “But I don’t recommend the ass-kicking. It never ends well.”
“Well now,” Shaw growled. “Aren’t you the uppity young bastard.”
“Eric, stop it. Granddad, go home.” Demi’s low voice had an edge.
Shaw reached out and seized a lock of Demi’s hair, giving it a gentle tug. “Call me, sweet pea,” he said. “I want to hear from you real soon. Dinner tonight?”
“Let’s play it by ear, Granddad. I’m pretty wiped out.”
Shaw walked out, still grumbling. They watched him get into his pickup.
“Wow,” Eric said. “He’s a piece of work.”
“That he is,” she agreed. “But he showed up for me. At least he gives a shit.”
An awkward silence followed while he fished for the words. “Demi,” he said. “What that guy said, on the boat. He was just fucking with you. No way could your father—”
“Let’s not go there right now,” Demi said. “Let it wait. One awful thing at a time.”
Chief Bristol came out of his office and looked around. “Your dad still not here?”
Demi shook her head. “Still not answering his phone.”
“Strange. I got him only that one time. Seems odd he’d stop answering his phone after news like this.” Wade dug into his pants pockets, pulled out car keys and handed them to Eric. “Here, take these. Holly sent her boys out to the Avery boat ramp to get the pickup for you. It’s parked right out front.”
Eric took the keys. “Thank you, Chief.”
“Thank Holly before you leave.” Wade turned to Demi. “Do you have someone to stay with you?”
“I’m heading home,” she said. “I need time to myself.”
“I’d very much rather you weren’t alone,” Wade said. “Not until we know exactly what happened out there.”
“She can stay with me,” Eric said again.
The Chief and Demi exchanged eloquent glances.
“I appreciate the concern,” Demi said. “But I am one hundred percent sure that nobody else is going to attack me this morning. And I need some goddamn privacy.”
“I still want to keep watch,” Eric pleaded. “Just indulge me. Your place, my place, I don’t care. I just need Otis’s gun and I’m good to go. You don’t have to talk to me. Go into a bedroom and shut the door. Ignore me. Pretend I’m not there.”
Wade cleared his throat. “To be honest, I would feel better if someone was watching your back today, Demi. But I’ll leave you young folks to work this out on your own.” His gaze shifted to Demi. “Unless you’d prefer that I stay, of course.”
“It’s fine, Chief,” she assured him. “I can handle him.”
They waited while he walked away.
“Handle me?” Eric murmured. “Like an unbroken horse?”
She snorted under her breath. “More like a frisky hound.”
He held up his keys. “Please, Demi.” His voice was low and intense. “Please.”
“Eric.” Her voice shook. “You don’t want to see me fall apart. It won’t be pretty.”
“I don’t need you to be pretty. I just want to stand guard while you rest. Otherwise, I’ll have park outside your house, which is embarrassing and makes me looks like a fucking stalker. But whatever you do, I’m not tak
ing my eyes off you until we know exactly what happened today.”
Probably not even then.
He swallowed the words back. Pronouncements like that always got him into trouble.
Demi blew out a weary sigh. “Oh, fine,” she snapped. “Watch my back if it makes you feel better. Just don’t expect conversation or civility. That part of my brain is fried. I might be unsociable. As in, a bitch from the bowels of hell. Be warned.”
“Not scared,” he told her.
She lifted her eyebrows. “You should be.”
16
Demi regretted giving into pressure as they drove out Vensel Road. She was a hair away from total meltdown. Anywhere near Eric Trask was already meltdown central for her. His very presence was an intense stimulant. Not optimal for calming down.
Yet here she was, driving off to be alone in the woods with him.
She’d be better off huddled in the dark at home. The original plan had been to bash herself on the head with a shot of bourbon or three and burrow down into her bed with a pillow over her head, aiming for unconsciousness. Trying not think about what that guy said to her on the boat. At least until Chief Bristol told her what they’d learned.
Or rather, when Chief Bristol removed all doubt about what she already knew.
She wasn’t confused about what those men were after. She knew perfectly well who had sent them.
She was just miserable about it.
Eric pulled in, parking the pickup right behind his Porsche. She slid out on wobbly legs, teeth chattering in the icy wind. Shaking. Too much bad coffee.
“You’re cold,” Eric said. “Let’s get inside. I’ll build a fire.”
A few minutes later, she was curled up in a faded wingback chair by a pot-bellied stove. Eric crouched next to her, feeding a crackling fire with small sticks of kindling. He performed that task with the same absolute focus that he brought to everything he did.
When the fire was going to his satisfaction, he rummaged in a drawer in the wooden credenza for a plaid wool blanket and draped it around her shoulders.
“This is backwards, you know,” Demi told him. “You’re the one who engaged in mortal combat and kicked the crap out of a pack of big guys. You’re treating me like the wounded soldier. Nobody even hit me, Eric. I don’t have a scratch or a bruise. Thanks to you.”
“I’m glad,” he said. “That’s a good outcome.”
“I saw you rubbing your shoulder. Is it hurt?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“That’s not what I asked,” she said. “I see blood on your shirt. Let me see.”
He sighed. “Demi, I’m fine. Don’t—”
“Let me fucking see it, Eric.”
Eric clenched his teeth, and lifted the grimy shirt, wincing.
Demi gasped at the spectacular bruise and scrape on top of his shoulder. “That looks awful. You have to get that looked at.”
“It’s okay,” he said, covering it up. “Nothing broken or torn.”
“How do you know?”
“Vast experience.” Eric peeled off the shirt with a few swift gestures and wadded it up into his hands. “I’m going to take a quick shower and get some fresh clothes. Do you know how to use a gun?”
“I’ve done some hunting with Granddad. But I’d rather not—”
“Just while I’m in the shower. Please.” He opened another drawer and pulled out a handgun. “Use this. He kept the others in the safe, but he kept this out for home defense. A Glock 19.” He pulled out the magazine to check, and slid it back inside. “Full magazine, one in the chamber. Point and shoot.”
“Eric, I highly doubt that—”
“Just until I’m out of the shower. Don’t give me a hard time. I’ll be quick.”
She sighed. “Whatever.”
Demi held the gun on her lap and listened to the fire crackle in the stove and the wind moan in the eaves. The pane in the door that she’d broken when she’d seen Otis on the floor was still missing. Someone had taped a small square of cardboard over it, but the wind had torn it loose, making it flap in the wind.
The desolate flapping and moaning underscored all the craziness. So did the gun in her hand, heavy and cold. Otis’s death. Terry’s accident. The attack this morning.
And more to come. Lots more misery still in store.
She had to face the truth about Dad’s part in this. She’d heard the fights between him and mom years ago. She knew about the mysterious phone calls. She’d heard stories about massive debt. Whispers about embezzlement.
Things had blown over after Dad been transferred as GM to the Granger Valley Distribution Center, when she was in high school. Her folks had pretended that things were fine. But Mom couldn’t hide the worry in her eyes.
Things hadn’t been fine for her father, or for Mom. Not for a long time. And there was that odd conversation that Eric had spied upon, too. Those thugs, shaking Dad down.
Dad had been in trouble. Scared and desperate. The kidnapping insurance that her grandfather had taken out on her all those years ago had been too much of a temptation.
Eric came in a few minutes later, hair damp, wearing a fresh gray waffle-weave shirt and jeans. She held the gun out to him.
“Hang onto it,” he said. “I’ll use one of the others.”
“I’m not in danger anymore,” she told him. “It’s unnecessary.”
“You don’t know that. After what just happened—”
“I know it, Eric. For a fucking fact.”
Eric looked almost afraid to speak.
“No,” he said. “Not possible. He couldn’t have done that to you. He’s your father.”
At least Eric wasn’t playing dumb, which was a relief of sorts. “Dad was the only one who knew I was going to the island,” she said. “I told him. No one else knew.”
“You left from the public marina,” he argued. “Anyone could have seen you go.”
“And organized a six-man team on the spot to abduct me?”
Eric paced restlessly around the room. “It’s still an incredibly short lead-in time. No more than what, six hours? Maybe it was me they were after.”
“Do you have a rich grandfather who took out a crapton of kidnapping insurance on you when you were a kid? I remember Dad joking about kidnapping me himself when I was little. As I recall, I didn’t think it was funny even then.”
“I don’t have a rich granddad, no. But I am the Prophet’s spawn, so there are many people out there in this town who hate my guts for no good reason. I’m the usual trouble magnet. It makes more sense that this is about me, not you.”
Demi shook her head. “Not this time, Eric. It’s a generous thought, but I doubt it. Anyway, Chief Bristol will get it out of them eventually.” She twisted her hands together. “The awful thing is, he probably felt justified.” Her voice shook no matter how she tried to steady it. “He probably thought I deserved this. I’ve always bothered him, and this is my punishment.” The lump in her throat was choking her. “I knew he was mad at me. I just didn’t know he was that mad.”
“I just can’t see it.” Eric said vehemently. “I can’t see him doing that to you.”
“Unfortunately, I can. So you see? There’s no need to go to all these lengths to protect me. I appreciate what you did out at the island, but it’s over. The danger has passed. Dad can’t organize another abduction now. Not now that he’s been discovered.”
“It might not be what you think,” Eric said. “It’s too soon to relax.”
“I’d rather face reality all at once and get it over with,” Demi said. “It would really help me if you would do the same.”
Eric stared down at the gun in his hand. He laid it, slowly and deliberately, in the open drawer, and pushed it closed.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s just say, for the sake of argument, that you’ve faced reality. Let’s say there’s no more danger. Let’s just presuppose that for a minute. Just for kicks.”
She eyed him, apprehensive. “Eric, don’t
start.”
“Bear with me. So tell me, Demi. Why did you come out here?”
Demi felt suddenly on the defensive. “I was too tired for another battle,” she said. “You, Chief Bristol, my granddad, throwing your weight around. It’s fucking exhausting.”
“I don’t buy it. You’ve never backed down from a fight in your life. It’s one of your defining characteristics.”
Demi stood up, letting the blanket drop. “I’m not in the mood for games,” she said. “Tell me what you want and I’ll tell you if you can have it.”
His silvery eyes bored into hers. The grandfather clock on the mantle ticked loudly in the charged silence.
“I want it all,” Eric said.
Demi let out a sharp laugh. “Wow. Ambitious much?”
“Very,” he agreed.
“I might have known you had an agenda, you sneaky bastard,” she said. “I thought you wanted to keep me company while I sipped tea and shivered pathetically by the fire.”
“You’ve got plenty of other people in this town who could do that for you.”
“I suppose so. But what’s your point?”
“I can give you a hell of a lot more than tea and company,” he said.
The hot smolder of his eyes was hypnotizing. The sensual shape of his lips, curving in that faint smile. He knew the effect he had on her. He could feel her react.
Sexual awareness ignited, and suddenly she was hot for him. Weak in the knees. Short of breath. Wet. Goddamn that man. It infuriated her, when her body betrayed her.
“You brought me here on false pretenses,” she said. “You said you were going to guard me while I rested. Not come on to me and make eyes at me and jerk me around.” She looked around for her coat. “Where’s my damn phone? I’ll call a car.”
Her coat was on the back of a chair at a dining room table, but Eric stepped in front of her as she reached for it. “Don’t call,” he said. “Don’t go, Demi.”
She blinked back furious tears. “Crap,” she muttered, digging for tissue. “You are such an opportunist. You want to have this conversation now? For real?”
“I have to take my opportunities where I find them. I didn’t get to say it seven years ago. You didn’t answer my letters. You blocked me online. This is my only chance, so I’m goddamn well taking it.”
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