by Desiree Holt
Again that icy feeling raced over her skin, the kind you got when people told ghost stories in the dark. As if strangers had been here, and not the ones investigating Graham Cole’s disappearance. Could evil leave a sense of its presence?
Evil? Really?
Dramatic much, Devon?
She just couldn’t shake the feeling something was off.
If only she’d forced the issue, made him talk to her. Fixed whatever barriers had been thrown up between them. Maybe she’d have a clue as to what was going on.
For a moment she considered the B and B in town, but why spend money she didn’t have to? A house couldn’t harm you, right?
A loud noise from the kitchen made her pulse leap and her heart thump. She grabbed a golf club leaning against the wall, tiptoed down the hall, and peered into the room. Nothing. No one. Should she step inside? What if someone was hiding in the alcove? With the alarm system not working anyone could come into the house.
Then the noise repeated, and she blew out a breath when she realized what it was. The icemaker in the refrigerator was disgorging cubes into the container.
Devon sat down at the breakfast bar, hands still shaking, and tried to steady herself. Maybe staying here wasn’t such a good idea at all. Was she crazy to think someone had left an imprint here and it wasn’t her father?
There’s nothing here. Give your imagination a rest.
The landline on the kitchen wall rang, startling her. Who would be calling? Most of her father’s calls had come in on his cell phone. Automatically she reached for it.
“Hello?”
Dead silence.
She waited, then, “Hello? Is someone there?”
Still silence. Why did the words dead silence come to mind? Then she heard it, the faint sound of someone breathing.
“If someone is there, speak up, or else I’m hanging up this phone.”
When there was still no answer, she replaced the receiver, irritated. And troubled. She wanted to believe it was kids making prank calls, but with her father’s disappearance it took on a more ominous feeling.
Right, Devon. Make this into some big deal. A lousy phone call. Probably just some wrong number and they were too embarrassed to say anything.
Maybe. She was not someone given to flights of fancy or premonitions. If anything, she was solidly grounded and practical to a fault. Only nothing had felt right to her since she walked in the front door, and the phone call had just added to the feeling of unease. She had a sudden need to get out of there, be with noise and crowds. Her stuff could wait until later. Right now she needed to be with people. A lot of people.
She had just headed out of the kitchen when the phone rang again. With a mixture of impatience and dread she picked up the receiver.
“Hello?”
Silence again.
“Listen. Whoever you are, either talk to me or I’m hanging up. If you call again, I won’t be here.”
She slammed the receiver back in the cradle. That did it for her. She needed to get out of here and find Sheri right away.
Her stomach chose that moment to grumble, reminding her she also needed food. She’d left Tampa two hours ago with only a large Starbucks in her stomach, and said stomach was now sending her signals. She remembered the housekeeper kept the fridge and the freezer stocked with basics so she could just fix herself something if she wanted to. But the eerie feeling wouldn’t let go.
Sheri had said to call or come by as soon as she got into town, and right now seemed like a very good time to do that. Going straight to the police station seemed the best thing to do. She’d feel better seeing Sheri, anyway. Maybe she could help Devon put her feelings in perspective. The police had gone over the house thoroughly. Surely if something was out of whack, they’d have found it and told her. Something besides the jacked alarm system.
I’m just letting my mind play tricks on me. That has to be it.
Okay. That was it. She was getting out of here for a while. She’d head right for the police station and try to find out where things stood. She should have gone there right away. And she wanted to know what the latest was with the Coast Guard. The whole thing was still so unreal to her.
She walked through the house to the garage, still carrying the golf club and peeking around doors and walls. And feeling like an idiot. She found the extra remotes for the garage door and grabbed one, then hurried back through the house and out the front door. Without understanding why, she checked three times to make sure the front door was locked. She also looked carefully around as she got into her car, as if expecting to see someone peeking at her from behind the garage or one of the many massive trees that dotted the place.
Damn. If reporters might be hanging around, she’d better get that alarm fixed in a hurry. Anyone could get onto the property if they wanted to.
She wasn’t easily frightened but the whole situation spooked her. Maybe she should stay in town at the B and B until she figured out if she was needed for anything. Still, she’d be damned if she’d let anyone chase her out of her father’s house.
Seacliff Road was sparsely populated, the homes built much farther apart than those in town. There was only one house on the road past her father’s and after that was a dead end. The lack of traffic made her nervous, as did the thick growth of trees that lined the side opposite the houses. Probably no one was lying in wait for her—where had that thought come from?—but she’d feel a lot better being part of a crowd. She kept looking in her rearview mirror.
“Just in case,” she whispered.
But in case of what? Besides, who even knew she was in town? She was letting the entire situation spook her. What she needed to do was get into town and talk to Sheri face-to-face. Once she got a better read on the situation, she’d settle down. At least she hoped she would.
Just as she came to a slight curve in the road she glanced in the rearview mirror and her heart nearly stopped beating. A black SUV that seemed to have come out of nowhere rode her bumper. Oh, God! Doing her best not to panic, she gripped the wheel and pressed down harder on the accelerator, but no matter how fast she went the car kept pace with her.
She navigated the next turn, hoping she could pick up a little speed and put distance between her and whoever this was. But then she felt a jolt as the SUV hit her rear bumper, just enough to scare her. Her engine was built for economy, not speed, and no matter how hard she pressed the accelerator she couldn’t seem to outrun the vehicle riding her back end. Praying for someone to show up and help was useless. This was a thinly populated road where half the residents were snowbirds. Getting help right now was in the region of impossibilities.
In the next moment the other vehicle bumped her again, much harder, causing her car to lurch to the side. Suddenly she was losing control, no matter how she wrestled with the wheel, and she veered off the road. She came to a stop in the deep ditch that ran alongside the road. The SUV bumped her once more before it pulled up and stopped in front of her at an angle, blocking her even if she could move.
What the hell?
The first thing that popped into her mind was Vincent Pellegrino’s so-called one-car accident. Was this what happened to him? She was equal parts scared and pissed off. Scared because it was obvious whoever this was meant her no good. Pissed off because her day just kept going downhill and she was sick of it. She grabbed her cell phone, but dropped it because her hand was shaking. By then a man had climbed out of the SUV and was instantly at her side of the car. Another man appeared at the passenger side, boxing her in.
The one next to her knocked on her window, startling her so she dropped her cell phone again. She reached down to get it but the man on the driver’s side banged on her window once more.
“Open the window,” he barked in a harsh voice.
She shook her head, double-checked to make sure the doors were locked, and reached down again fo
r her phone. The next thing she knew something hit the passenger window, hard. The window cracked and shattered into what looked like a million pebble-sized chunks that flew across the seat. Startled, she let out a little scream and pushed back as hard as she could against the seat.
The man on the driver’s side knocked on her window again.
“If you don’t want me to break this one, roll it down,” he growled.
Devon shook her head. She knew she should probably be cowering in fright, except that wasn’t her style, even in a dangerous situation. Surely someone would come along on this road, right?
She closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them, the man on her side knocked on the window again and held up an iron bar.
“I’m not going to kill you, bitch.” His voice was a low monotone, slightly accented. “Not yet. This was just to get your attention. Next time it could be your legs. Tell me where he is and I’ll leave you alone.”
“Please. I—”
“Do you hear me? Where has he gone? When you talk to him, tell him we’ll be happy to have you as our guest until he shows his face. We know where to find you.”
Devon slid her gaze from one to the other. The two men looked as if they’d kill her before breakfast and still eat a hearty meal. She opened her mouth but no words came out. She pushed back against her seat again as the man on the right started to reach through the broken window to unlock the door.
At that moment a four-door pickup zipped around the curve behind them and slowed, the driver obviously spotting the tableau on the side of the road. The truck passed both of their vehicles, then pulled over across the road and stopped. Was this backup for the two men already bent on terrorizing her or could fickle fate be sending her a savior?
* * * *
Logan Malik slammed on his brakes. On the right-hand side of the road, a car leaned into the ditch, a black SUV parked in front of it. Two men stood on either side of the car, and he could see the window on one side had been smashed out.
Logan’s instincts, created from long experience, told him they weren’t offering to help. He parked his truck on the opposite shoulder, checked to make sure his gun was loaded before tucking it in the small of his back, and jogged across the road.
A woman was trapped inside the car. Damn!
The man on the driver’s side turned toward him. They were dressed identically in black jeans and black all-weather jackets despite the heat. Heavy sunglasses obscured their faces and they wore black ball caps pulled low over their foreheads.
Their posture was decidedly unfriendly.
Okay, Logan, defuse, defuse, defuse.
He just hoped the woman was sharp enough to play along with him.
“We have this under control,” the man on the driver’s side said. “You can go on.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Logan held up a hand and looked through the window at the woman. “What happened, sweetheart? I told you I’d follow you to town. You should have waited for me to get off the phone.”
The look he gave her said play along.
The expression on her face was a combination of anger and terror. She wet her lips. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to rush your phone call.”
Thank God. At least she was no dummy. But how the hell had she gotten herself into this situation?
He looked from one man to the other, his face expressionless. What the fuck was going on here? “What happened, babe? Did you take that turn too fast?”
Keep it up, lady. We don’t want full-out war with these guys.
She looked from him to the man standing next to him and back to Logan again. Her faced was taut with fear, but the look in her eyes told him she had smarts and was using them. Maybe she figured if he got rid of these two guys she could handle one man herself.
“I, um, skidded on the road and ended up in the ditch.”
“We’re helping her,” the man beside him said, his Spanish accent evident.
Logan gave him a look he hoped said get the fuck out of here or I’ll bust your balls. As an agent at a private security and protection agency and former Marine, he’d taken down more than one man at a time before, men who were sharper than these two.
“This is your wife?” one of them asked. His voice was heavy with skepticism. If she’d been targeted specifically, they’d know she wasn’t married, but maybe this would scare them off.
“Sure is. Thanks for stopping, guys, but I’ve got it from here.”
They two men exchanged a look, as if deciding whether or not to take him out.
Logan glanced into the car. “Damn, sugar, you’ve got that glass all over you. Let me get my phone out, call for help.” He lifted his shirt to reach for his phone in his back pocket, deliberately exposing the gun in his waistband.
The man next to him took a step back. Good.
“Oh, oops.” Logan grinned. “Sorry.” He reached on the other side and pulled out his cell.
But the man shook his head once to his partner, who looked like he was spoiling for a fight, and they backed away. Good. They were smart enough at least not to start a firefight on a public road, no matter now sparsely traveled it was.
“Sorry,” he said. “We just stopped to see if we could help.”
They strode back toward their SUV.
Logan pulled out his cell phone and began snapping pictures of the two men and their vehicle. He had barely lowered the cell when the vehicle took off with a screech of tires.
Then he turned to give the woman a good look. Even shock from the situation didn’t detract from her appeal. Rich, thick sable hair pulled back in a ponytail accented her face with its delicate cheekbones, full lips, and smoky gray eyes framed by the thickest eyelashes he’d ever seen. Her body, with rounded breasts and hips, was a wet dream walking. She was definitely all woman, something he’d noticed the moment he’d approached her car. One hell of a woman, if he was any judge.
Unexpectedly his cock stiffened.
For fuck’s sake, Logan. Get your shit together.
He wasn’t as much shocked by his physical reaction as by the fact that it happened at all. For a long time now, he’d managed to keep a clamp on his sex drive and take it out only when required, like taking aspirin for a headache.
“You’re a smart woman,” he said. “I didn’t know if you’d play along with me.”
She inhaled an unsteady breath and blew it out. “I took a chance. You could have been worse than they were.”
“Still, that shows brains and quick thinking. Good for you.” He studied the interior of her car. “Wow. They did a number with that window. Don’t move. There’s chunks and pebbles everywhere.”
She stared at him, studying his face. “You promise you aren’t the second wave? You know, like good cop, bad cop? The bad guys threaten me and you come along and win my confidence by helping me?”
“Nope. Scout’s honor.”
“I, uh, saw that you have a gun.”
“So did those jackasses. I wanted them to see it.” He smiled at her. “But I only use it as part of my job.”
She caught her lower lip in her teeth. “They just came at me out of nowhere and ran me off the road. Then they boxed me in and smashed the window.”
“Later I’ll want all the details. Right now let’s get you out of here.”
“Do you know who they are? Those men?”
“No.” His voice hardened. “But I know other garbage like them.”
She swallowed. “So who are you, anyway?”
“Oh. Sorry.” He winked at her, and the tension in her body visibly eased. “Logan Malik. Savior of women in danger.”
“Devon Cole.” She dug up a smile. “Woman in danger who needed saving.”
“I’d shake hands with you but I think you should sit very still.” He nodded at the glass sprinkled all over her. “You’ve
got some scrapes where the chunks of glass hit your arms but fortunately they aren’t sharp enough to do more than that.” He studied her face. “Miraculously none of it flew at your head, so your face is clear.”
She blinked.
“Oh.” She looked down, taking in the glass scattered over her lap, the seat, and the floor of the car. Then she then lifted her arms and looked at them. The safety glass had splintered into pebbles of all sizes, and she had some scrapes and bruises where they’d hit the unprotected skin. When she lifted a hand to brush off the ones clinging to her T-shirt and thighs, she was shaking.
“Adrenaline crash. Been there, done that. Take some deep, slow breaths and in a minute you’ll be steadier.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him, although he was sure that was a big exaggeration. “Do whatever you have to.”
And she has guts. I sure hope I find something wrong with her before I make a big mistake.
With a slow, deliberate movement he pulled open her car door and stuck his head inside.
“Hold on.” He made his voice sound as reassuring as possible. “I want to get you out of here before your car lurches any farther into the ditch.”
She cleared her throat. “I’m going to need a tow truck. And I should call Chief March. I need to report this.”
“I’ll do it. I’ll make both calls. Also, I got a picture of their car and license plate, which I will ask my boss to run for me.” He looked at her front seat again. “Your cuts should be looked at. So let me get things going here.”
“I’m fine, really. A tow truck and a little first aid and I’ll be fine.”
He gave her high marks for not falling apart. He’d feel better if someone checked her over but he agreed there wasn’t anything serious enough to require medical attention. Alcohol, a hot shower, and maybe a few Band-Aids should take care of it. He scanned the interior of her car again.