Or maybe it did make sense; she just didn’t want to face the truth. The truth that danger still lurked out there. That she was still a target. That she’d tried to run from her past, but she wasn’t fast enough to truly get away.
Tennyson drove, and Grant sat in the front beside him. As usual, Grant was a chatterbox, a quality she couldn’t imagine Tennyson appreciated. He didn’t seem like the frivolous kind of guy, even when it came to conversation. Maybe especially when it came to conversation.
She watched him, saw how his eyes constantly went to the rearview mirror.
Interesting.
She tried to ignore the action. Told herself Tennyson was just doing his job. Tried to stare out the window at the passing scenery.
Then she looked at the busy stretch of interstate behind her. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Only a few cars, traveling behind them at a safe distance. Was this just life passing by? What if there was more to it? If the intruder from last night was following them?
Was she being paranoid? She wasn’t sure.
All she knew was that her muscles felt tighter than a knot, and nausea had begun to pool in her gut.
Tennyson’s gaze continued to flicker in the rearview mirror, as if he was watching something. Or was he watching for someone?
At once, she felt on guard. Her heart beat faster. Her breathing became shallower.
Tennyson was worried, she realized. She needed to know why.
She leaned forward. “Is someone following us?”
Tennyson shot her a look in the mirror. “Why would you ask?”
“Because you keep checking behind you.”
One shoulder pulled up in a half shrug. “Just a precaution.”
She glanced behind her again. Her instincts told her that Tennyson was placating her. Everyone kept trying to placate her. If there was one thing she didn’t appreciate it was being kept in the dark.
She rubbed her temples. Maybe she was being paranoid. Everyone wasn’t out to get her.
Nameless might be sending her e-mails, but that didn’t mean he was stalking her. But what about the photos someone had sent? Someone was stalking her. But who?
Her throat suddenly felt tight. Who was it who’d tried to get into the hotel room last night? Who had killed that poor woman and left her body in Cape Thomas?
Her mind tried to go to dark places, but she shut it down. Once she went into that black abyss, it felt impossible to get out.
Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me. Cast my fear out, Lord. Please. Help me. I need to walk on water, and I feel like I’m sinking instead.
She glanced out the window again. A passenger in the car beside them stared into the SUV, almost as if he could see through the tinted glass.
Dante.
The air left her lungs.
She jerked her gaze away. Blinked. Tried to take some deep breaths. No, that wasn’t Dante. It couldn’t have been. He was dead. She didn’t care what that e-mail had said.
She dared to look again, only to prove to herself she was being paranoid.
The man was now staring at the road straight ahead. He talked to the man beside him, the one driving the car. Mallory couldn’t see his face.
She observed his thick, dark hair, his brown skin, his muscular build.
Was that Dante? They shared the same features, but . . .
She blinked again and shook her head, desperate to control her thoughts.
No, it couldn’t be. He was dead, she reminded herself again. That e-mail was fake, sent by someone intent on torturing her.
“Mallory?”
She glanced up at Tennyson. He’d noticed her reaction. He’d seen something was wrong.
She couldn’t let on that she thought she’d seen Dante twice in the last twenty-four hours. She’d only sound like she was losing her mind. One time, he would brush off. But not twice.
“Yes?” She licked her lips.
“Are you okay?”
“Just fine. Thank you.”
Tennyson’s gaze lingered on her. She forced a smile and looked down at her hands.
The man had looked similar to Dante. That was all.
Calm down, Mallory.
She drew in a deep breath, daring to take one more look over at the car beside them. She fully expected to come to her senses. To confirm that this was all a mistake and that her eyes were deceiving her.
The man craned his neck toward her again.
He smiled and waved before racing ahead into traffic.
No, she wasn’t wrong. He looked just like Dante.
Tennyson faithfully stood beside Mallory during the signing. He’d seen the change in her expression as they’d driven here. Something had happened to spook her, but he wasn’t sure what, nor had he had the chance to ask her. He wouldn’t for a while, at least not until the book signing was over.
Right now, he remained on the lookout for anyone suspicious. At the first sign, he would escort Mallory from the building and to the car waiting outside. He’d already checked out all the building’s exits so he could identify the store’s vulnerabilities.
Though the manager wanted Mallory to be set up in the middle of the store, it was too risky. Instead, Tennyson had convinced the event planner to have the signing in a corner, away from windows, where the situation was more manageable. Until Kori came, he was going to have to operate this way. If the threats continued, he’d have to convince Mallory to bring on more guards. He knew that wasn’t what she wanted, but she needed more manpower.
The next hour and a half flew past. There were endless smiles exchanged between Mallory and her fans. Too many faces to keep straight. Mallory was pleasant and kind to each person who came through, which was even more amazing given the circumstances of the past few days.
Everything was running smoothly, and there were only five minutes left to go.
A man toward the end of the line caught Tennyson’s eye. He was tall with stringy brown hair and oversized glasses. He wore a long black overcoat and looked like he hadn’t showered in weeks.
He appeared jumpy as he approached Mallory and set his book down in front of her.
“You’re an inspiration, Mallory.” Sweat dripped from his upper lip as he stared at her, his eyes looking a little too lovelorn for Tennyson’s tastes.
“Thank you.” She signed his book and handed it back, but he made no attempt to move, despite the people waiting behind him.
“I would love to talk to you about your experiences sometime.”
“It’s all in the book,” she assured him, her smile tightening.
Tennyson noticed the slight tremble that began in her hands. She was getting anxious.
“I think you’re remarkable.”
Tennyson scooted closer. The man was being a little too pushy. Maybe Tennyson’s presence would discourage him.
“Surely my horrible experiences don’t make me remarkable,” she said. “That would be a tragedy within itself.”
“I know you are. You are, Mallory. You are.” He said the words low and intimately. “I dream about you all the time. About what it would be like to—”
That was enough. It was time for this signing to end. Since no one else was coming over to call it quits, Tennyson would.
“I’m sorry, sir, but we’ve got to bring this to a close. Ms. Baldwin has other engagements tonight.”
The man scowled and, in an instant, grabbed Mallory’s arm.
She gasped and tried to jerk back, but the man didn’t let go.
“Please, just listen to me—”
In one swift move, Tennyson grabbed the man’s hand and twisted his wrist until he yelped with pain.
“Your touch isn’t welcome,” Tennyson growled, appalled that the man would even consider touching Mallory.
“Fine. Fine. Fine!” The man pulled his hand back and gave Tennyson a scowl.
In a last ditch effort, the man slid something across the table. “Here’s m
y card, Mallory. If you ever want to . . .”
“We’ve got to go.” Tennyson pulled Mallory to her feet before she could even think about grabbing the card. Not that she would.
Was that man Nameless?
No, Tennyson didn’t think so. There was something about his words that didn’t match the cadence of the writing in the messages. Still, the man could be a threat.
He led Mallory away from the table, waving apologetically to everyone else in line. “Sorry, folks. Mallory has another commitment she needs to get to. Thank you all for coming.”
Mallory trembled beneath his hand. She was reacting to his touch also, he realized. But he couldn’t avoid it at the moment. She wasn’t standing quickly enough on her own, and as her bodyguard, sometimes he would have to handle her. Knowing her background, he would only do it when absolutely necessary.
“Are you okay?” he asked her when they were halfway to the exit.
She nodded a little too quickly. “I’m fine.”
Her words weren’t convincing. The man had rattled her.
They were almost at the door when someone stepped into their path, and Mallory stopped cold.
CHAPTER 8
“Narnie. What are you doing here?” Mallory tried to keep the contempt from her voice. But the last person she’d expected to see was her father’s former stepdaughter.
She looked as smug as ever. The woman was in her early forties, but she dressed like a college-aged girl headed for the club scene. Today she wore tight leggings, a midriff-baring shirt, and heels.
Narnie was a bottle blond, wore a lot of makeup, and still curled her hair away from her face in an eighties style.
None of those things bothered Mallory, though. It was the woman’s integrity—or lack thereof—that bothered her.
Narnie lifted a pencil-thin eyebrow. “Can’t I just come to support family?”
“You know we’re not family. I would welcome you as a sister, if I thought you wanted anything besides my money.”
The smile slipped from her face. “I heard you were in the area, and I wanted to stop by.”
“Why?” Mallory wasn’t going to drop this. She’d been burned by Narnie too many times since her return.
“That’s it. Those were my only reasons.” Her eyes traveled beyond Mallory to Tennyson. “Who is this fine hunk of man who’s with you?”
“This is Tennyson. He’s . . . he’s part of my team.”
Her gaze, calculating and cool, turned back to Mallory. “Your team, huh?”
“That’s right.” Mallory let out a controlled breath. “Well, thanks for stopping by. Give my regards to Arthur.”
Before she could walk away, Narnie grabbed her arm. “Wait!”
Mallory paused, not really wanting to hear anything else she said. She shrugged out of her grasp and barely kept her composure as she said, “Yes?”
“I’m going to lose my house.” Narnie’s bottom lip trembled.
Compassion started to creep in, but Mallory squashed it. Narnie had tried to manipulate situations too many times in the past. Mallory would bet the house was fine, but that she really wanted a new wardrobe. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I need your help.”
“So you didn’t just stop by to support me?”
“Yes, I want to support you. We’re like family.”
“There’s no blood relation between us.”
She clung to Mallory’s arm again. “I need your help.”
Mallory bristled at her touch but didn’t pull away. “I don’t know what to say, Narnie. If you’re telling me the truth, then I truly feel bad for you. But you’ve made poor decisions, and you’re going to continue to make poor decisions until you learn your lesson.”
She dropped Mallory’s arm, her demeanor changing from desperate to cold. “You haven’t changed at all, have you?”
Mallory kept her chin up, even though the words stung. Was she doing the right thing? She had to believe she was. “I have changed. But I’m not going to be walked on anymore. Narnie, do I need to remind you that you took me to court? When I should have been recovering and focusing on rebuilding the scraps of my life, you were focused on getting money from me.”
Narnie sneered and crossed her arms over her chest. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Why don’t you try earning your own money?”
“That means a lot coming from a rich brat.”
Mallory felt Tennyson bristle beside her, but she held up a hand, signaling him to let her handle this. “This conversation is over.”
“You’ll regret it,” Narnie growled. “You’ll regret it.”
That evening, Tennyson stood at the edge of the ballroom and watched from a distance as Mallory rubbed elbows with some of the city’s most prominent members. She’d changed from her casual attire and donned a simple black dress with heels. She looked like a million bucks with her hair swept back in a twist, and she had a quiet dignity about her.
Tennyson had pulled out his suit for the occasion, knowing he’d stand out too much otherwise. He straightened the knot of his sky-blue tie, feeling slightly out of place despite the suit. This wasn’t his kind of crowd.
He watched Mallory for another moment. She really was carrying herself with amazing resilience.
She was almost like a different person.
He couldn’t deny that he’d listened with rapt attention to the media coverage on Mallory after her rescue. Before she’d been abducted, she’d been a party girl: spoiled, arrogant, irresponsible. She’d had a sense of entitlement. Didn’t appreciate working for things. Lived with the proverbial silver spoon in her mouth.
He hadn’t known she’d almost starred in her own reality show. But the old Mallory did seem like the type.
The new Mallory had an understated, gentle confidence. She seemed ready to work hard. She had a deep appreciation in her expression—appreciation for life. He had to admit that the woman fascinated him and made him want to dive deeper than the constraints of the professional relationship they had in place. He knew doing so was off-limits, but his mind continually drifted toward her beautiful smile and her strong spirit.
She’d mentioned Jesus in her talk at Hope House. He was probably a big reason for her change of heart. Our most desperate times could lead to the greatest reliance on our Savior. It had been so for him.
Just then, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and saw it was Ethan Stone. Stone was an old friend, for lack of a better word, from the CIA who now worked for the NSA. Tennyson had left a message for him earlier and hoped he would call him back. The two had a lot of water under the bridge, and Tennyson feared Stone would let the past act as a permanent, unbreachable wall between them.
He gave one more glance at Mallory and saw she looked at ease as she chatted with some members of the city council. The event was by invitation only, and the crowd was small enough to manage. He’d keep an eye on who was coming and going from his position here by the door—the only entrance and exit in the room.
He put the phone to his ear. “Stone. Thanks for calling me.”
“Yeah, what’s going on?” The greeting was all business.
“I heard a rumor about Torres, and I was hoping to get some details from you.”
“What did you hear about Torres?” Stone’s voice changed from hostile to curious.
“That he might still be alive.”
Silence crackled on the other end. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do.”
“Where’d you hear that information?”
“An anonymous tip. Please. I called for more than one reason. You know how I feel about the man. But the girl Torres held in captivity could be in danger. I want to make sure Torres is not behind it.”
Stone remained silent a moment, and Tennyson wondered if he would respond.
“I’m not supposed to be sharing any of this.” His voice sounded low and grumbling—just as Tennyson had come to expect from Stone.
The man lived in the shadows, and he’d been great at his job. He was also on more hit lists than Tennyson could count.
“I know. And I appreciate your cooperation.” Tennyson’s eyes remained fixed on Mallory as the mayor spoke with her. She smiled back politely and gracefully, but her eyes searched the room until she spotted Tennyson.
He offered her an affirming nod, feeling surprisingly pleased that she had sought him out.
“Two different sources say they’ve seen Dante Torres,” Stone continued. “They also said that he looks different, that maybe he’s had some type of plastic surgery to change his appearance.”
Something shifted in his gut. Unease. “How can they be sure?”
“They’re not. That’s the rub.”
Tennyson scanned the crowd, suddenly more alert and on guard. “Did they say what looked different about him?”
“He’d lost weight. His nose was thinner. His hair was even darker than before.”
“Or it could have just been someone different.”
“Exactly.”
Tennyson bit back a frown. He didn’t like the sound of any of this. “Where did these sightings occur?”
“One was in the Caribbean. The other was in the States.”
“Where in the States?”
“In Virginia.”
Tennyson’s spine bristled. Virginia was where the first body had been found. He scanned the crowd one more time. Though Virginia wasn’t far away, it would take a lot of nerve for Torres to show up here.
But Dante Torres was known for having a lot of nerve. If he was here, Tennyson would recognize him—even with plastic surgery.
“If you hear anything else, will you let me know?”
“Of course.”
Tennyson hung up, but his gut still churned. Danger lurked in the distance like a savage storm. He could feel it. Sense it.
What he didn’t know was when it would strike. He had to remain on guard until he had more clues.
CHAPTER 9
Nothing had felt better to Mallory than kicking her heels off when she got to her suite that night. She changed into her favorite yoga pants and T-shirt, ready to relax and unwind after her busy day.
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