As if he’d picked up on the change within her, he linked their fingers and coaxed her toward his bungalow. All signs of his earlier urgency vanished without her having to voice the fact that she wasn’t going anywhere.
She leaned into him, her knees still a little weak and tingling from his touch, and breathed in the scent of the ocean clinging to his damp clothes and skin. He smiled down at her and she grinned back, happier than she’d been in a long time.
The bushes on Darby’s right shook as something tore through the undergrowth. A man broke free of the vegetation and fell forward, collapsing against Darby.
Ripped from Bryce’s grip, she stumbled backward, going down beneath the dirt-covered chest toppling forward. The hard ground knocked the air from her lungs, but didn’t steal her breath as much as the two-hundred-plus pounds on top of her.
“Darby!” Bryce shoved at the guy, tugging her free just as her life-sized paperweight lifted his head. His eyes remained closed before he slumped unconscious to the ground.
She recognized him from the trail that morning. Patrick.
“Jesus, you’re bleeding.”
Panic gripped her throat and she ran her hands down her chest, searching for the injury she couldn’t feel. Her elbow ached a little from where she’d landed, but that didn’t explain the blotches of crimson that had soaked right through her dress.
Bryce tugged at the material.
She caught his hand. “It’s not mine. It’s his.”
“You’re sure?” He checked both her arms and legs again.
“Yes.” She glanced from the man at her feet to the bushes he’d stumbled from, and back to the man. “He’s the one who’s bleeding.”
Bryce crouched next to him. “Help me roll him over, and then I want you to go for help.”
She knelt on the ground opposite Bryce, noticing the blood already staining the ground despite how dark it was. “He’s bleeding pretty bad.” There was no way that much blood was coming from a few scratches.
“This way.”
Both their heads snapped up at the masculine voice that slashed through the trees ahead of them.
“Where the fuck did he go?” A shadow emerged from the trees. The newcomer spotted them immediately and stalked toward them, arm rising to point something at them.
Bryce gripped her hand, half shoving her, half picking her up. “Move. Now!”
A muted popping sound came from behind them.
Jesus, was someone shooting at them?
Bryce propelled her forward, right into the bushes Patrick had stumbled from. Branches raked at her bare legs as she forced her way into the foliage, Bryce right on her heels.
Her sandals had been abandoned, leaving the bottom of her feet exposed to every twig, rock and tree root as they scrambled in the dark to put distance between them and whoever the hell was pursuing them.
If Patrick had been alive, she doubted he was now. If the guy with the gun and whoever he’d been talking to were friends of Patrick’s, they wouldn’t have shot first and asked questions later.
After witnessing Patrick’s behavior with Tiffany, she’d guessed he was a complete douche, but whatever he was involved with had clearly gone wrong.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Bryce dodge to the right at the last second to avoid the tree trunk that speared up from the surrounding blackness, but clipped the side of it. His hand shot to his head, and he stumbled.
Rushing forward and nearly tripping in the process, she wedged herself between him and another tree, keeping him from hitting the ground. Barely. Unprepared to take that much of his weight, she staggered.
Footsteps thumped on the ground behind them and she glanced back in time to catch a glimpse of white through the trees. The men would catch up to them in moments.
Who the hell were these guys?
As they maneuvered between two trees, Darby waved her hand. “Valdius ventus.”
The burst of wind triggered by her magic sent a thick branch snapping back to nail the closest assailant in the chest. A grunt of pain was followed by more muffled gunfire, and shards of bark exploded off the tree next to Bryce’s head.
Darby wasn’t sure who was dragging whom as they plunged through the vegetation, scrambling to put more distance between them and whoever the hell was shooting at them.
Had anyone else heard anything? The crash of water on the nearby beach wasn’t loud enough to drown out Darby’s thundering pulse, but would have masked the muffled shots. No one would be coming to help them.
Bryce gripped her elbow, propelling her forward. “Run that way.” He pointed at the lights she could barely make out through the trees ahead, then turned away from her.
“What are you doing?” She didn’t think Bryce even heard her, and snagged his hand to get his attention.
“Leading them away.”
“We’re not separating.” She wasn’t sure she whispered loud enough for him to hear her.
“Don’t argue—” A branch cracked to their right, and they both spun to face the shadow that moved toward them. “Exuro.” Bryce’s amulet brightened, but the color faded much too quickly.
Glimpsing the blood running down the side of Bryce’s face, Darby understood why the man only grimaced instead of dropping the gun that should have overheated in his palm. Magic was far too unpredictable when sickness or injury was involved.
“Shut your eyes,” she hissed, pushing Bryce away from the man with the gun. “Luminarium.”
The explosion of light that burst from her amulet nearly seared her skin, but her heart was pounding too fast, her body too pumped full of adrenaline to notice the pain. With the men momentarily blinded, she shoved Bryce through the trees until they skidded onto one of the resort pathways.
Taking only a second to scan the area for any familiar landmarks—her bungalow was nearby, wasn’t it?—she kept the two of them moving, relieved that Bryce didn’t need to lean on her as much.
No one stepped onto the path behind or in front of them, but Darby didn’t let herself take that as a good sign. Someone had been shooting at them and it didn’t get much worse than that.
The next corner brought them within sight of her bungalow. They picked up the pace, bolting up the stairs. She didn’t bother with hunting for the key that was still sitting in the small purse she’d left back at the reception. Another wave of magic and the door opened, letting them slip inside quickly.
“Call the front desk and have them contact the police.”
Eyes locked on the front window, Darby made the call. The woman who answered sounded more than a little skeptical when Darby explained the situation. The fact that she caught any of the details at all was impressive, considering how fast Darby was talking.
This was why she’d never been cut out for fieldwork. Not that Dante or Riley or anyone else was routinely shot at, but her family definitely had more than their share of run-ins with dangerous people. Darby had always been content to stick to the boring, predictable office scene and leave the riskier assignments to the others.
Less than two minutes later, Darby hung up the phone, intending to call Dante next. “Bryce…” her voice echoed in her ears like her head was underwater, “…you’ve been shot.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Explain to me what happened one more time.”
Darby rubbed her eyes for the tenth time since the St. Lucia police had arrived and escorted them to the manager’s office in the resort’s main building.
They’d already told the officer exactly what happened half a dozen times. The late-fifties officer looked like he’d just jumped out of bed and yanked on the closest clothes on the floor—a rumpled green polo shirt and khaki pants with grass-stained knees—and was still pissed about it.
Bryce sat next to her, his shirt still torn and stained from the bullet that had grazed his ribs. A scratch, he’d called it. A temperamental cat left a scratch. A bullet ripped, maimed or blew a hole clean through a person.
The reassuring
squeeze of Bryce’s hand shifted her attention from the bandaged scratch—thank god that’s all it was—and back to the officer waiting for her to start the story all over again.
“It’ll be easier if we just show you where he came out of the woods,” she suggested. The only thing more frustrating than answering the same questions over and over was the fact that Patrick had disappeared.
He couldn’t have gone far on his own, and every minute she and Bryce spent in the office, rehashing things with the police, gave the men who shot Patrick time to cover their tracks.
Bryce leaned forward in his chair. “At least then you’ll know exactly where to look for a blood trail or signs his body was dragged away.”
“We’re waiting here for the owner,” the officer answered, his annoyed tone reminding them that he’d already said as much more than once.
Darby fought the urge to tell him how to do his job or point out the fact that sitting here was a waste of time. Increasingly frustrated, she walked to the window that might have overlooked the beachfront. It was impossible to tell with the darkness offset by the office lights behind her reflecting off the glass.
The officer’s cell phone rang, and from his side of the conversation, she guessed that the owner, who’d apparently been working behind the scenes to find more information on the man she’d described, was finally on his way.
“And how many times did you say the victim had been shot?”
The throbbing between Darby’s temples worsened. “I didn’t. He could have been stabbed for all we know. But the men chasing him had guns. It just makes sense that he was shot.”
“So you’re making an assumption?” The officer gave her a pointed look.
Darby pivoted to face Bryce, her irritation jumping from mildly annoyed to is-this-guy-for-real? Now she understood why Dante always considered cops a pain in the ass.
Across the room, the door opened as a man let himself inside. He looked familiar, and after a moment she remembered him from the hiking trail earlier that morning. Patrick’s father.
The cop set his notebook aside. “Did you have any luck identifying your missing guest, Mr. Dunham?”
Patrick’s father owned the resort?
Mr. Dunham paused opposite the desk as if she and Bryce weren’t even in the room, and shook his head. “Not yet. There are still quite a few guests roaming around, but it doesn’t sound like many match the description.”
Darby glanced from Bryce, who looked equally confused, to Mr. Dunham. “The missing guest is your son.”
Both men turned to face her, but it was Mr. Dunham who responded. “I beg your pardon?”
She took a step closer to the desk. “Your son is the one who was hurt, who those men were looking for.” She waited for the bad news to sink in and the worry to cross his face.
Instead he gave her a puzzled look that felt a little too forced. “I’m afraid that’s quite impossible.”
“We met on one of the resort trails this morning,” Darby pressed. “Patrick was with you and Tiffany.” The trio had made too much of a lasting impression to forget them already.
Patrick’s father frowned. “That’s right.” His gaze shifted to Bryce. “I remember the two of you now.”
Darby didn’t doubt that he’d recognized them the second he walked through the door.
He turned back to the officer. “You know Patrick. He has little patience for his frivolous girlfriends.”
“Fiancée,” Darby clarified. If they had to be stuck in the office rehashing details, they might as well get them all straight. “Tiffany was talking about an engagement present this morning.”
With a tight smile, Mr. Dunham turned his back on Darby entirely to address the officer. “I think there’s been some confusion. I spoke with Patrick only a short time ago. He can’t be the missing mystery man.” Mr. Dunham didn’t try to hide his skepticism about there even being a mystery man.
“I’m positive it was him.” Darby didn’t know why she thought Mr. Dunham was lying about talking to his son, but couldn’t ignore the nagging certainty in her gut. “Patrick was wearing the same dark suit and navy tie as this morning.”
“The resort caters to quite a few businessmen,” Mr. Dunham put in smoothly. “Suits and navy ties are hardly out of the ordinary here. It was dark and I gather it was a rather frightening experience. Details could be confused and if alcohol was involved—”
“It wasn’t.” Bryce stood, and for the first time she was grateful for that courtroom edge that routinely intimidated others.
Mr. Dunham shrugged. “Did you recognize him as well?”
Bryce frowned. “He went down almost as soon as he came out of the woods.”
“I take it that’s a no.”
“I was the one he ran into. I got a very good look at his face.” She could still remember the panic in Patrick’s eyes right before he lost consciousness.
“Did you bump your head?”
The man’s patronizing tone must have annoyed Bryce as much as Darby. He moved closer to her, his arms crossed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were heading up this investigation.”
The comment seemed to remind the officer that he was the one who was supposed to be in charge. “Let’s all take a minute and calm down.”
Eyes narrowed, Mr. Dunham pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “There’s an easy way to solve this.” He punched in a number and a few moments later a look that might have been exaggerated relief relaxed his face. “Patrick? Are you all right?” He quieted as the person on the other end of the phone answered. “No, no. Just a little mix-up at the resort.” He glanced at the officer. “Would you like him to drop by in the morning? He’s on my yacht at the moment.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Shooting Darby a look that said he’d been wasting his time, the officer flipped his notebook closed. “We’ll keep looking around and if we have any more questions we’ll contact you.”
Another officer stepped into the room long enough to speak quietly with his counterpart, giving Darby a glimpse of her parents, Aunt Libby and Riley waiting outside in the lobby. Across from them, Thomas Lancaster and his wife stood near the wall.
Word had gotten around, apparently.
“One more thing before I let you two go back to your rooms,” the officer added. “Did the men or either of you have a flashlight? There were a couple reports of flashes of light in that area.”
“No,” Bryce answered before she could say yes. It seemed like a rational explanation until she remembered the officer would want to know what happened to their flashlights.
“I’ll have the manager extend your stay on the house for your ordeal.” Mr. Dunham’s attention dropped to Darby’s amulet. “That’s an unusual necklace.”
She closed her hand around the stone. “Thank you.”
The officer dismissed them with a wave of his hand. “I think I have everything.”
Except Patrick, maybe.
Giving up on trying to convince the police, she followed Bryce to the door, waiting until he closed it behind them to speak. “He’s lying.”
“Why lie about his son being fine if that wasn’t the case?”
“You’re the hotshot district attorney who tries criminals with hidden motives all the time and you’re asking me?” When he didn’t say anything, she shook her head. “You don’t believe me.” She tried to tell herself that it didn’t bother her, but disappointment thickened her throat.
“I believe that you think it was Patrick. But it was dark and happened so fast—”
“What kind of trouble have you dragged my son into now?” The booming accusation came from Bryce’s father, who stalked toward them.
“Dad.” Bryce stepped in front of his father. “Not now.”
Glacial anger flashed in Thomas Lancaster’s eyes. “I’m not about to let another Calder drag our family down.”
“This isn’t the place.” Darby’s father joined the small group, the rest of her family hanging back. For now.
“None of us should even be in this place. Our children’s marriage is a disaster in the making and you damn well know it.”
“Tom,” her father began.
“No. How many times do I have to pick up the pieces before you admit we’re all better off if your family stays the hell away from mine?”
The fury in Thomas Lancaster’s voice shouldn’t have surprised Darby, especially after her own run-in with him tonight. Although there was no love lost between their families, the depth of his hatred still stunned her.
“That’s such a load of BS.” Libby didn’t even try to lower her voice when she gave up on staying out of the situation.
Like he’d been struck in the face, Thomas whirled around to face her.
“Careful,” Libby warned. “You wouldn’t want to lose your precious control and debase yourself like the rest of us.” She nodded to the brightness of his amulet flaring beneath his shirt.
“Control is all that protects our families from being exposed.” His eyes were dangerous slits when they darted back to Darby. “What did you do tonight?”
“What I had to.” She wouldn’t apologize for relying on her instincts when she and Bryce were in trouble.
“Darby didn’t do anything wrong, Dad.”
Thomas’s gaze dropped to the protective hand Bryce held against her lower back. “And the flashes of light people are talking about?”
“We were being shot at,” she snapped, just loud enough for those closest to hear.
It took exactly two seconds to realize it was a mistake to blurt that little detail out like that. Her parents and Libby looked shocked. Riley only arched a brow, a shrug of her shoulders silently asking, “Was that all?”
Thomas Lancaster, on the other hand, looked ready to wring her neck. “Neither of you would have been in that situation to begin with if you had stayed away from my son.”
Bryce didn’t get the chance to respond.
“He’s a big boy,” Libby put in, not really helping the situation. “Why not let him make his own decisions? Oh, that’s right. You think you’re the only one who knows best.”
“My decisions have never gotten anyone killed.”
Must Be Magic (Spellbound Book 4) Page 11