Let the other men in town prostrate themselves at her canvas-covered feet. Zahad had better things to do.
JENNY GREW TENSE as she neared her house. In the aftermath of the murder she’d lost the sense of security she’d always associated with the place.
When she was a child, the house on Pine Forest Road had become a haven to return to as her parents moved around the globe. Whenever possible, she had visited her maternal great-aunt, Brigitte Ostergaard, a childless widow who’d operated a Swedish smorgasbord restaurant in town. After Brigitte died five years ago, Jenny had been deeply touched to learn she’d been named as heir.
For two years, as her marriage crumbled, she’d rented out the property. It had been wonderful to land a job in town after her divorce and to move here permanently.
Now she wondered if she would ever look at that front porch and walkway again without picturing the flash of emergency lights and the huddled shape she’d seen on Monday. If not for Beth, she might consider selling the place.
But what good would it do? The stalker would likely continue the harassment as long as she stayed in the area, and Jenny refused to be driven from her job. Besides, there was no guarantee she’d be safe anywhere else, either.
Resolutely, she pulled in to her driveway. Instead of proceeding to the garage, she halted in the parking bay. Given the rapid rate at which snow was accumulating, she’d only be staying a short while.
Her mind leaped ahead. She ought to change into jeans, and she also wanted to retrieve a pair of boots to take to the cabin. Absorbed in these thoughts, Jenny didn’t see the man until he emerged directly in front of her.
“Jenny! It’s me, Oliver.” That broad, lascivious smile was all too familiar, although she’d never seen this bald, tattooed man before and didn’t know anyone named Oliver. Her heart sank when she spotted the computer-printed photograph he held.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” she snapped, silently rebuking herself for not paying more attention to her surroundings. A quick glance told her the intruder had passed the parking bay and stashed his red sports car behind a tree near the garage. That’s where he must have been lurking while he waited for her to come home.
She reached into her purse, but before she could find the cell phone or pepper spray, Oliver’s beefy hand closed over her wrist. At close range, he smelled of alcohol. “No games, baby,” he said, stuffing the photograph into his pocket and reaching for the front of her coat. “You promised me a good time and I want it.”
The prospect of being pawed set off waves of fury and disgust. “Let go!” Jenny tried to twist away, but she couldn’t get a firm foothold on the snowy concrete and the man was too strong. “Someone’s played a trick on you. I never sent you that picture. I’m being cyber-stalked.”
“Quit messing around,” Oliver panted. “I didn’t drive all the way from Nevada for nothing.”
“Let go or I’ll have you arrested!” Why couldn’t he get it through his thick head that she hadn’t invited him?
“I ain’t letting you call no cops. I violated my parole to get here because you told me to,” he growled.
Wonderful. Her cyber-stalker had found an ex-con to do his dirty work. “Just go away,” she said.
“I don’t think so.” His lip curled.
Up close, she read Live Free or Die! on the tattoo snaking up his neck. As snow formed a curtain around them, Jenny realized how isolated they were. No matter how loud she screamed, none of her neighbors was likely to hear.
Who despised her enough to keep setting her up? And how was she going to get out of this?
Chapter Four
Almost subliminally, Jenny registered the buzz of a car approaching on Pine Forest Road. Even if the motorist could see them through the trees, however, there was no guarantee of help.
Oliver’s head jerked toward the house. “Inside. Now!”
“No!” Although she was so frightened she could hardly breathe, Jenny tried to break away. “Leave me alone!”
“Shut up!” His grip like a vise, the man began hauling her up the walk. She felt as if her arm were being pulled from its socket.
Jenny tried to scream, but nothing came out. Although the sound of the engine grew louder as the car turned in to her driveway, it remained largely hidden from view.
Oliver halted. After an indecisive moment, he released her. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll send them away.”
Despite Jenny’s desire to put as much distance as possible between herself and her attacker, her knees had turned to mush. She hated this paralyzing fear. What was wrong with her?
Then she caught sight of the car and its infuriated driver. Behind the wheel, Zahad had realized what was happening.
Barely taking time to brake, he came flying out and dodged across the snowy walkway as if expecting a bullet to whiz by. Jenny felt the shock of air as he slammed into Oliver. The next thing she knew, the ex-con lay on the ground, facedown with his arms yanked back and Zahad straddling him.
“Are there any more of them?” the sheikh demanded as he patted the man down for weapons.
“I don’t think so.” The quaver in Jenny’s voice embarrassed her.
Oliver struggled for breath. “Hey, man!” he rasped. “She sent for me!”
Zahad caught sight of the crumpled photo lying in the snow. “Count yourself lucky. The last man who showed up here caught a shotgun blast in the chest.”
“Yeah?” the ex-con said. “Who the hell are you?”
“The victim’s brother.”
“Then you oughta hate this witch as much as I do.”
Jenny’s fists tightened with rage. The only problem was, she wasn’t sure who or what made her angriest—this creep, her stalker or her own inability to act a few minutes earlier.
“Did he hurt you?” Ignoring Oliver’s crude remark, the sheikh shook a wing of dark hair from his forehead.
She rubbed her wrist. “Just a bruise.” Her shoulder was going to ache later, too, she thought.
“It ain’t my fault,” Oliver whined. “She made me mad.”
“Do you want to press charges against this scum?”
“Who’re you calling scum?” Oliver tried to twist around. Zahad drove one knee into his ribs and the man collapsed.
Furious as she was, Jenny had to face facts. Once the intruder showed the authorities the e-mails to prove he’d believed his advances were welcome, he would at the most simply be sent back to prison for a parole violation. He looked like the type to hold a grudge, and she didn’t need any more people holding grudges against her, especially one who would likely soon be back on the street.
“Let him go,” she said. “He’s not the real enemy.”
That wasn’t entirely true, she thought, her teeth clenching. Any man who believed he had the right to subdue a woman by force was the enemy. Still, sending this creep to jail for a few months wasn’t going to knock a sense of decency into him.
Zahad swung off the man. As Oliver staggered to his feet, the sheikh spoke in a low, menacing tone. “If I ever see you again, anywhere, anytime, you will be dead. I have killed more men than I can count. No dogs yet, but I am willing to start with you.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t want nothing to do with you crazy people.” The ex-con headed for his car. The engine turned over twice. Just as Jenny began to fear he might be stuck here for repairs, the guy took off so fast he nearly clipped Zahad’s vehicle.
She took a wobbly step toward the house. Thinking the better of her bravado, she grabbed the porch railing for support. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“You should let the police know what happened,” the sheikh said. “He may hang around.”
Jenny nodded. “I’ll give him time to leave, then file a report in case he comes back.”
She and Zahad regarded each other through the falling snow. He was breathing harder than usual, she noted, and then realized she was, too.
The world had just turned dark, and Zahad’s watchful figure sh
one like a beacon. If he hadn’t been here…
She refused to dwell on what-ifs. “Your timing was perfect. I’m grateful you came by.”
“It is my intention to interview the neighbors.” He glanced up and caught a snowflake right on his well-formed nose.
“Be careful you don’t get stuck out here. There’s a big storm forecast.” On the point of fitting her key in the lock, Jenny felt a wave of aversion. After what had just happened, she couldn’t face the sense of violation in her house. “Actually, I think I’ll go straight to the cabin where I’ve been staying. I’ll call the police after I get there.”
“Are you well enough to drive?” Zahad asked.
Jenny could handle an automobile, but approaching the remote cabin alone in her current state of mind was another matter. “I’d appreciate it if you’d follow me.”
“Of course.” She felt glad he didn’t fuss or insist on driving for her.
Zahad’s car fell into place behind her vehicle along the curving two-lane highway, heading away from town. In the thickening storm, only two other cars went by. She kept checking her rearview mirror to reassure herself that he was still there.
Jenny reached the turnoff three miles down the road before it occurred to her that the sheikh didn’t have four-wheel drive. She ought to send him away rather than let him risk driving an additional mile on a side road already dusted with snow.
But the prospect of arriving alone in the rapidly falling darkness stopped her. Although three or four other vacation cabins lay near the one where she was staying, she didn’t know whether any of them were occupied at the moment.
There was no reason the cyber-stalker couldn’t have found out her temporary address. He might direct someone here, too.
Shivers racked her, almost erasing the hard-won self-control. For once, Jenny didn’t even try to give herself a pep talk. She just made the turn and let Zahad follow her to Lew’s cabin.
Built of timber and glass, the A-frame structure was smaller than her house but more distinguished architecturally. Jenny halted in a double carport beneath the faint glow of a safety light.
On the approach, Zahad’s wheels spun briefly in the snow before catching purchase. He pulled in beside her, shut off the engine and got out.
Yesterday, this lean, scarred man had been a complete stranger. But now, his presence was so welcome Jenny had to fight the urge to throw her arms around him.
“Do you mind waiting until I get inside?” Despite her determination, the words came out shaky.
“Does this place have an alarm?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Then I will go in first.” His gaze swept the wooded lot and the darkened houses nearby. “The owner should install one.”
“I don’t think Lew wants to go to the expense for a rental.”
The sheikh finished inspecting their surroundings. “This cabin belongs to the teacher I met at your school?”
“Yes. He was kind enough to lend it to me for the week.”
“How generous,” the sheikh said dryly. “I presume he has a duplicate key?”
“I’m sure he does, but Lew isn’t a threat.” He’d only dropped by the cabin the first day to make sure she had everything she needed.
“How do you know this?” Zahad’s shoes sank into the snow as they approached the porch. He wasn’t exactly dressed for winter weather, Jenny noted.
“Instinct, I guess,” she admitted.
“If your instincts about dangerous men are so trustworthy, why didn’t they warn you about your husband?”
Jenny’s temper flared. Although she’d mentioned Grant’s abusive behavior in her statement to the police, it was nobody else’s business. “My relationship with him doesn’t concern you!”
“Except that he may be responsible for my brother’s murder,” Zahad said levelly.
He had a point, but he’d just pushed one of her buttons. “The fact that I made one mistake doesn’t make me an idiot. Marriage is complicated, but I don’t suppose you’d know about that, would you?” As soon as she heard the words slice through the air, Jenny regretted them. “I’m sorry. You just saved me from that creep. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
Although it seemed to pain him, Zahad said, “I am the one who should apologize. Tact is not my strong suit.”
“Today, it doesn’t seem to be mine, either.” Much as the sheikh annoyed her at times, Jenny reflected, there were worse things than a man who blurted out what he was thinking.
“I will stick to the areas in which I have some expertise. Such as security.” He removed the key from her hand. “Stand back, please.”
She moved aside. When Zahad opened the door, Jenny braced herself. She wondered how long it would take before she stopped expecting the crack of a gun.
Inside, a trace of warmth greeted them. She turned up the thermostat and switched on the soft overhead illumination.
“Please remain here while I inspect the premises.” The sheikh moved swiftly between the spare Scandinavian-style furnishings and climbed the stairs to the loft.
While she waited, Jenny put in the promised call to Parker, who as usual was working late. She felt sorry for his son, Ralph, although the housekeeper, Magda, appeared genuinely fond of the boy.
After Jenny described the incident, Finley promised to alert the patrol officers about Oliver. “What about Sheikh Adran?” he asked. “Has he left?”
“He’s checking the cabin for me.”
“You’re there alone with him? I’ll come and get you,” Parker offered. “You can stay at my house tonight.”
The detective hadn’t asked whether she wanted his help, Jenny noticed, and the truth was, she didn’t. The prospect of sleeping in his house made her feel smothered, not secure. “I’m fine here.”
“How much do you know about Mr. Adran?” he demanded.
She recalled Zahad’s statement that he’d killed a lot of people. “Not much.” Except that, no matter what he’s done in the past, he protects me without trying to take over my life.
“I don’t consider him trustworthy. I certainly wouldn’t want him spending time around you.” Jenny pictured the detective’s cool gray eyes narrowing as he spoke.
She’d found those same eyes assessing her from the day she moved into the neighborhood. Since then, Parker had occasionally dropped by to discuss matters ranging from his son’s schoolwork to improving snow removal on their street. They’d attended a couple of community events together with their children, but Jenny had declined further invitations, and the detective appeared to have taken the hint.
He’d never entirely given up, though. Sometimes she got the impression he was just biding his time.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t trust him,” she said.
“This guy was part of a rebel army that overthrew the government of his country about a dozen years ago,” he replied. “We’re talking violent revolutionaries here.”
That must be when he’d killed people, Jenny reflected. “I thought Alqedar was a democracy.”
“That I don’t know,” Parker admitted.
“Well, if he overthrew some other form of government to install a democracy, doesn’t that make him a freedom fighter?”
“Maybe.” The detective sounded gruff. “That isn’t all.”
“Let’s cut to the chase,” Jenny said. “Has he been charged with any crimes?”
“Not that I know of.”
“End of story.” She already knew Zahad had lived a rough life, one far outside her own experience. Since she had no intention of getting involved with him beyond her present predicament, none of that mattered. “Don’t come and get me. What you ought to do, Parker, is go spend more time with your little boy before he grows up.”
“I can take care of my own business,” he snapped.
“I’m speaking as an education professional. It’s good advice. Don’t ignore it.”
Coolly, he said, “I’ll make a report about the intruder. T
hanks for letting me know.”
“You’re welcome.” If she’d thought it would do any good, Jenny would have added that it was going to be difficult to keep the police informed of developments if, every time she called, Parker became overbearing.
The sheikh descended the stairs, his dark clothing stark against the light decor. “Everything appears secure.”
“That’s all you have to say?” Jenny couldn’t resist teasing.
“What more would you like?” He remained standing, making no move to take off the leather jacket he wore over a turtleneck sweater. As his unassuming virility filled the room, Jenny clenched her hands against the temptation to reach out and unbutton his coat.
“It’s just that everyone else feels compelled to give me instructions, whether I want them or not,” she said. “Parker Finley wants to carry me off to his house for safekeeping. A couple of my colleagues keep nagging me to stay at a motel.”
“People can get killed in motels, too,” Zahad replied.
“Well, that’s comforting!”
“I am not here to comfort you. I am happy to help where I can, but you know my purpose.”
To solve Fario’s murder. Beyond that, he took no interest in anyone or anything in Mountain Lake. To Jenny, that was a mark in his favor.
In movies and on TV, beautiful women seemed to have all the advantages. There definitely were some, as Jenny knew from having helped pay for college by modeling. But after spending much of her life fending off unwanted attention, and now assailants, as well, she could see the disadvantages, too.
The funny thing was that she wouldn’t have minded a little more concern on Zahad’s part. Just enough so that he would linger for another half hour or so until her nervous system returned to normal.
“We both want this case solved,” she said impulsively. “Some mutual cooperation might be in order.”
“You are offering to work with me?” He sounded dubious.
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