Taste of Danger

by Alexa Verde

  It was a long shot, but it might be worth it. It didn’t take long for James to find Brian’s phone number, and he punched it in. After talking about old times, he relayed to Brian as much information as he could disclose. Brian had heard about the authentic Fabergé egg appearing on the local scene and he’d ask around. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

  James needed to check on Sergey’s daughter. Careful not to move his throbbing shoulder, he typed in her number. There’d been a fine line between invading her privacy and providing necessary information to Sergey about his daughter, but James was glad he had her phone number handy now.

  “Hello?” Soledad sounded distressed. But then, witnessing her father’s kidnapping and facing gunfire could make anyone distressed.

  Respect and admiration stirred inside him at the way she’d handled the situation. Not something he’d expect from a small-town librarian. He might’ve been dead without her. “This is James O’Hara.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad you called.” Her voice was filled with relief, and for some reason it made his breath quicken. “I phoned the hospital several times. First I was told you were in surgery. Then in recovery. How do you feel, Mr. O’Hara?”

  “Please call me James. And I’m fine.” The pain in his shoulder contradicted his words. But the fact that she’d worried about him tugged at his heart. “Well, almost fine.”

  “Thank God. Well, there was another reason I tried to reach you, too.” She paused.

  His inner alarm bells went off. “Did something happen?”

  “I don’t want to sound paranoid, but… when you drove here, you didn’t notice a small green car following you, did you? I’ve had one pass my home several times in the last hour.” Her voice trembled.

  He frowned, eager to be out in action, helping her, not stuck in a hospital where he could do nothing. Someone watching her home sounded suspicious. “I didn’t have a tail driving to Rios Azules. But I don’t like what you’re telling me. Maybe I can leave this place tonight.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant. Please don’t leave the hospital,” she said firmly. “You have a gunshot wound.”

  “Can you stay with somebody tonight? Or at a hotel?” His protective instincts went on high alert, aided by a slight stab of guilt. Sergey hadn’t been the only one who’d inadvertently brought danger to her doorstep. By finding her for his friend, James had been at fault, too. Not that it had been difficult to find Soledad, as he’d recognized her from the picture he’d seen in his previous visit to Rios Azules. Getting her whereabouts had seemed to be one of James’s easiest assignments ever. But not anymore.

  She took in a sharp breath. “Why would they target me? I haven’t even seen their faces.”

  “It’s not a phone conversation.” He’d rather tell her about the Russian treasure inheritance in person. Besides, his mind wouldn’t be so fuzzy by the time he’d see her. “Just do it as a precaution.”

  “Okay. I can stay at the Rios Azules Bed and Breakfast for tonight.”

  “Good. Did you call the police?” His hand fisted. Did the thugs think she knew her father’s secret?

  “Yes. My childhood friend Aidan Rowe is a Rios Azules policeman. I called him. They’ll send a car to patrol the street from time to time.”

  As she talked, James recalled her scent. Paint thinners mixed with… something floral. Lavender maybe? He’d considered Soledad plain vanilla, opinion based on the photo he’d seen in Mari’s office and Soledad’s pictures in social media: hair pulled back in a tight bun, no makeup, awkward posture, unsure smile.

  He hadn’t been ready for the surprise when she’d opened the door. With long waves of chestnut-colored hair and a creamy complexion, she’d looked much more attractive in person, in a wholesome, girl-next-door way. Especially her eyes, sky-blue, expressive, and refreshingly trusting.

  No time to be distracted by her eyes. He needed to know more details about the possible threat. “Did the green car slow down when it passed?”

  “No.”

  “Did you notice any details? Dents, scratches, model and make of the car? Did you see the license numbers? Notice the appearance of the people inside? Any stickers that stood out?”

  “The car looked brand new. No dents or scratches. The license plate was covered in mud, even though it hasn’t rained here in ages. The windows were tinted, so I couldn’t see anybody inside. Sorry, I’m not good at recognizing car models and makes.” She sounded apologetic.

  His frown deepened. That wasn’t much information to use. “Stand near the wall and look through the blinds slit, but carefully. Do you see the car?”

  There was a pause. “No. It’s probably a coincidence.”

  “Regardless, I want you to be careful.” Worry for her spread through him. He’d always cared about victims. So much that sometimes it had made him lose perspective.

  “I promise. Is it okay if I visit you later?”

  “I’d like that.” He realized he meant it. Soledad had an approachable charm about her that appealed to him. Just like Melissa had. Good thing he’d made it a point after Melissa’s betrayal to never get close to crime victims and their families.

  “I’ve seen the news.” Soledad’s voice broke. “No ransom demands were made.”

  Her worry for the man she’d just met touched him. But he was doing it again, feeling compassion when he should remain professional.

  James gripped the phone tighter. “Please listen to me. Don’t leave the house yet. Wait for the police to show up first. Have them follow you to the B and B. Call me as soon as you get there.” A knock on the door interrupted him.

  “Okay,” she said, and he disconnected.

  A policeman entered the room. “I’m Aidan Rowe, with the Rios Azules Police Department. Would it be possible for you to answer several questions for me?” He extended his hand.

  “Yes.” James shook his hand, taking in Rowe’s rugged features. The name rang a bell. Just how close was Aidan’s and Soledad’s friendship? Unexpected jealousy reared its ugly head. Unbelievable.

  After answering questions and asking for protection for Soledad, James said good-bye to the policeman.

  He leaned against the pillows, allowing himself several minutes of rest. Then he reached for his phone and got to work again. He searched the website directory for the university where his friend worked and called several of Sergey’s colleagues.

  The throbbing in his shoulder got worse, but he pressed on.

  Of all the people he’d talked to, Professor Carmichael interested him the most. The history professor, and Sergey’s longtime friend, seemed nervous. James caught traces of envy in his voice. Carmichael’s eyes lit up when he talked about the Fabergé egg, Sergey’s prized possession. Obviously, FaceTime on the cell phone was useful. Seeing the other person on the screen helped James pick up facial expressions in addition to the voice inflections.

  Carmichael’s glance dancing around showed that he was lying.

  Fighting fatigue, James called several more of the university staff members and organized the information in his mind. Sergey was very well-liked while Carmichael wasn’t. And Carmichael seemed to be obsessed with his antique art collection, most of it from Russia. Was Sergey’s and Carmichael’s friendship based on the love of Russian art and history?

  His shoulder begged for painkillers, but he ignored it. Working helped him feel useful and kept him from worrying about Sergey’s daughter. James called doctors and staff of the hospital where Sergey had gone for medical treatments and had had to be admitted several times. They were more talkative than the university staff. That was probably due to the fact that, when expensive medicines had gone missing, he’d found the culprit. After several calls, he made a list of people who’d visited Sergey at the hospital, mostly Sergey’s friends, colleagues, and students. Alvin and Kyle, as well as Sergey’s neighbors, were among the visitors, as well.

  However, James couldn’t place one name. Lola Rogers, a young, pretty redhead who li
ked to wear high heels and designer purses. Who was she? And why had Sergey never mentioned her?

  The pain increased, and his body screamed for rest, but he needed to make another call, to his friend at the Austin Police Department.

  Logan Powers picked up quickly. “Hey, James.”

  “Logan, I need your help.” James relayed the events, as well as the results of his interviews. “Look closer into Carmichael’s and Kyle Eliseev’s background, please. Also, a mysterious young woman by the name of Lola Rogers used to visit Sergey at the hospital frequently. Nobody knows who she is. Tall, slim, red hair, blue eyes, very attractive. And if it’s all about the Fabergé egg, it makes sense to check on Sergey’s apartment and the office at the university. Just a hunch on my part.”

  “Thank you for the tip. But it’s too late. Eliseev’s apartment and the office were ransacked two hours ago. It’s difficult to say without the owner, but nothing seems to be taken. I can’t reveal much with the ongoing investigation, but I’ll tell you what I can. Keep me posted, too.”

  “Sure. And thanks.” James disconnected and leaned against the pillows. The treasure didn’t seem to have been found, giving hope the thugs would keep Sergey alive a while longer. Soledad hadn’t called yet. He needed to check on her to verify she’d made it to the B and B all right.

  A knock on the door was followed by a fifty-something nurse in cheerful flowery scrubs coming. She gave him a shot in the arm and left…

  James woke up with a start.

  Soledad.

  He hurried to call her.

  “Hello?” Her voice made his heart skip a beat. Strange.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yes. I’m settling in the room at the B and B. I just got here and—” She gasped.

  James tensed. “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, no!” Her voice dropped to a whisper.

  “What’s happening?” He forced himself to sit up.

  “Somebody is trying to get into my room.”

  Chapter Two

  Soledad stared at the door handle that moved up and down. Goosebumps erupted over her skin.

  “Listen to me.” James’s firm voice in the phone made her come to her senses. “Do you have your gun with you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. If she wanted to stay alive, she had to act fast. She had to get herself out of her stupor.

  “Good. How are the door and the lock in the bathroom? Are they strong enough to survive if somebody kicks them?”

  She recalled one of her previous stays in the B and B. The door could probably be knocked out with one strong kick. “No. Weak.”

  The handle moved again. A scraping sound followed, as if somebody tried to open the door with a card.

  “Move a heavy piece of furniture toward the door. Be careful to stay out of the line of fire.” His voice didn’t betray any fear that, quite the opposite, consumed her whole. He sounded as if he were giving her instructions on what groceries to buy for lunch.

  Her heart hammering in her chest, she slid a large armchair toward the door, grateful it moved silently along the carpet. She added a table lamp for good measure and crouched behind the armchair, as close to the wall as possible.

  The scraping sound intensified.

  As if influenced by James’s calmness, her mind cleared. She searched for an escape. The window was the only possible exit from the room besides the door. But there was no guarantee another criminal wouldn’t be waiting for her underneath the window. James probably had the same thought because he didn’t suggest it.

  “Are you done?” His voice now had the undertone of worry.

  “Yes.” She swallowed hard.

  “I’ll call the police. Help will be on the way. Now, train your gun on the door, stay very quiet, and silence your phone. Pay attention to the window, as well, in case somebody tries to break in through there.”

  “Okay.” Would the police get here in time?

  The scraping sound stopped, and the handle moved up and down again.

  Dear Lord, please save me. Amen.

  She felt calmer after the prayer.

  The scraping sound resumed.

  “I’ll have to disconnect now,” she said, keeping her voice as low as possible.

  “Don’t!”

  She pressed the disconnect button and silenced her phone, so any calls wouldn’t give away her location to the intruder.

  Afraid to even breathe, Soledad slid the phone into her pocket and took the safety on her gun off. So far, the door seemed to stay locked.

  But for how long?

  Female laughter and snippets of conversation reached her from outside, somewhere down the hall. The scraping sound stopped again, and she heaved a sigh of relief. But soon the laughter and conversation disappeared, as the women probably entered their room.

  The scraping sound resumed, and chills snaked down her spine.

  Run and hide. And stay very, very still. Because if he finds you, you’re going to pay.

  No, she wasn’t a scared seven-year-old anymore. And she was armed now. She clenched her teeth to stop them from chattering. The scraping sound stopped, and she froze, fearing the telltale click that would signify that the door could be opened.

  But nothing happened. A long moment passed. She shifted and looked at the door. The handle didn’t move anymore. She held her breath. Had they given up?

  “I’m the manager. Are you looking for your room? Because I believe we have a different guest in this one.” A male voice reached her from down the hall, followed by kids’ laughter, the stomping of little feet, and an adult voice telling them to stop.

  Her heart fell. Oh, no. The children!

  Dear Lord, please spare this family and the manager. Amen.

  “You’re right. This is five. Mine is fifteen. My bad,” a low voice near her room said in an apologetic tone.

  “That’s on the second floor.” The manager’s voice approached.

  “Thank you.”

  Seconds ticked by. The sound of footsteps disappearing in the distance let her take a full breath. The children’s voices disappeared, too, as the family probably entered their room.

  Thank You, Lord, for keeping us safe.

  She didn’t open the door, just in case the footsteps were a trick. But after several long moments, she put the safety back on and slid the gun in her purse. Then she called Aidan. Trying to keep her voice stable, she relayed to him the recent events, including the B and B’s manager possibly seeing the intruder.

  “I’m on my way,” Aidan said as soon as she finished. “We already received a call from James O’Hara on this matter. Don’t leave the B and B and don’t open the door to anybody, even the staff.”

  The adrenaline rush ebbed away, and fatigue took over. Her limbs grew heavy, so she dropped herself into the nearest chair. “Thanks.” She pressed the end-call button.

  She needed to let James know she was all right. Her heart fluttered at the thought of him. Well, she’d just have to do her best not to let his deep baritone affect her. She found his phone number in the call log.

  James picked up immediately. “Soledad! Are you okay?”

  His concern warmed her inside. So much for not letting him affect her. “I’m fine.”

  “I needed to be there to protect you. I tried to escape, but…”

  “What?” Her jaw dropped. He wanted to help her that much? But why? He’d just met her.

  “Please don’t try to leave the hospital,” she hurried to say. A layer of protection around her heart shifted at his words. Besides Aidan, who’d always taken his duty seriously, no man had ever tried to protect her.

  “As the lady wishes,” James said, as if teasing her.

  It dawned on her. “I know you called the police. But you were also the one who called the B and B and asked them to check on my room. Right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You shouldn’t have put the manager in danger. He could’ve gotten killed.” She shuddered
at the thought.

  “I asked him to go with a group of people. Besides, you’re the intended target, not them.”

  That made her feel better and worse at the same time.

  Even from a distance, he’d managed to protect her. Gratitude blossomed inside her. She squelched the feeling. She’d made the mistake of hoping for Ron’s protection, her first — and probably the last — boyfriend. Then she’d needed protection from Ron. She ran her hands over her arms, even though she didn’t have bruises there anymore.

  A knock on the door made her flinch.

  “Soledad, it’s me.” Aidan’s voice filtered through the door.

  “The police are here.” Soledad bid farewell to James and turned the phone off silencer.

  She let Aidan in and gave her description of events. After Aidan had left, she called her mother, who was on a vacation in Mexico, to find out the truth about her father. The call went to voice mail. Again. Soledad left a message.

  Then she scrolled down to Mari’s number and called her. She needed to verify James’s identity. She left a message, as well. Mari was on her honeymoon, climbing mountains in the Andes, and the reception there couldn’t be good. But why was her mother not answering her calls?

  Distressed, Soledad pulled out her art supplies from the duffel bag. Drawing and painting always calmed her down and gave her an elusive sense of peace. At the moment, drawing also had a practical use.

  Her phone rang, and she grabbed it, hoping it was her mother or Mari. She swallowed a lump of disappointment at discovering that it was one of her co-workers at the library, curious about the shootout near Soledad’s place. Soledad dropped herself in the chair and answered questions the best she could. As soon as she hung up, her friend Lydia called.

  In the next hour, Soledad was flooded with calls from the parishioners, her colleagues, friends, and even people she’d gone to high school with who’d never called her before. News traveled fast in Rios Azules, especially bad news. Most her answers included the words “don’t know.”

  She didn’t know anything about her alleged father, or why he’d been kidnapped, or who the armed men had been. She leaned against the back of the chair, shaking inside again. She needed more information, and with her mother not answering her calls and her possible father being kidnapped, James O’Hara was her best source. But she needed to do some things first.