“She was there when I, er—”
“Whatever.”
“He was gone but she was there and she asked me for a ride back to town. That was it. Why?”
“When was that?”
“Today.”
“Time?”
Cassie scowled. “Evan Reynolds is going to beat the crap out of you if you make a pass at her, Tommy.”
He scoffed. “Yeah. I’d like to see that. But what time was that?”
She rubbed her temple. “I don’t know. Afternoon.”
“Early? Late?”
“Early, I guess.”
The crash at the door startled them both.
“Go back into the bedroom,” he whispered, “and lock your door.”
“Why?” she whispered back.
The door being kicked in brought the trouble he wasn’t looking for a bit sooner than he had expected. Kenny or somebody must have fed the guy directions to Cassie’s.
* * * * *
For all his Thoreau-like pretentions, Evan Reynolds was a civilized guy. Roughing it had always meant him and nature, him and his own hands. Savagery had never figured in.
Until now.
When he came back to the island in the early evening to find no Andrea, only Bingo, he wasn’t entirely surprised. Furious as hell. Heartsick. But only half surprised.
And when he got his hands on Andrea Prentiss again, he was going to kill her.
After maybe tying her to the bed or marrying her or some such shit.
And he would get his hands on her again. He was sure of it. She wouldn’t leave him for good. He knew she wouldn’t. She hadn’t even done that the first time.
Once he couldn’t find her on the island and then read by flashlight the curt message she’d scrawled on the fucking chair about getting a ride back to town with Cassie and not looking for her—blah, blah, blah—he got right back into his motorboat and headed into town even though he suspected Andrea wouldn’t be there anymore. Bingo plaintively jumped into the boat with a howl at the last minute, as if he somehow was responsible for Andrea getting away and wanted to help. Whatever. At this point, Evan would take all the help he could get.
He wondered how Andrea even had any money to leave, but he supposed she had her mysterious “disappearing act” ways down pat by now. Or maybe she’d stolen some from him. He hadn’t even taken the time to check.
He should have told Michael that Andrea had shown up again. He should have let his brother hire a SWAT team to surround the island and keep her on it if he had to.
But he hadn’t. And now she was gone again. He intended to head into town to see if Cassie could tell him anything and then he personally was going to call out the fucking cavalry. Michael Reynolds, Damien Reynolds and every damn Evans connection he could muster.
Tying the boat up at the dock with a noticeable lack of his usual careful seamanship, he took off for Bailey’s Grocery store, Bingo trotting beside him, wagging his tail now as if this was all good fun. Despite the relatively early hour, the streets were empty except for when he made it into the vicinity of the town bar. There was always a crowd mulling around there smoking, and tonight was no exception. Although he knew most of the town regulars by sight, he didn’t recognize this crowd and he walked briskly by.
It wasn’t until a street or two later that he realized the guy in front of him seemed to be heading the same way as he was. In a suit that was out of place in this environment—European tailoring—and muttering too softly for Evan to hear, the guy was probably a vendor or something who had an appointment with the grocer. He didn’t think anything of it until, as he was about to close the distance between them, he recognized what language the man was speaking to himself.
Greek.
He halted abruptly, Bingo dropping to his haunches beside him, as the guy approached the Baileys’ apartment door, reaching his hands into his suit coat pocket. And then he pounded on the door—foot first.
It was the stranger from the bar who had been asking about Reynolds’ girlfriend. No big surprise there. The gun in his hand wasn’t much of a surprise either. If he’d been meaning to play nice, he would have knocked.
“I don’t want no trouble,” the guy said as Tommy pushed Cassie behind him.
It was amazing how guys with guns felt so free to use that expression.
Tommy wished, for probably the first time since he had left big-city life, that he had a piece too. Trouble was hard enough to avoid when you were looking down the barrel of a gun at it unless you were able to even the odds.
“Put your hands up.”
Tommy complied though he could feel behind him that Cassie had not. Her hands were fisted in the back of his shirt and he could feel her breath on the back of his neck, she was standing so close.
“What’s the problem, mister?”
“You got the girl here, don’t you? Where is she?”
“I told you back at the bar I hadn’t seen her.”
“And then you come right here. Right. Like I believe that. You got some kind of three-way thing going, don’t you, kid? Well, I got nothing against that. I’d like some of that action myself.” The look he gave Cassie turned Tommy’s stomach. Maybe he wouldn’t need a gun after all if this guy tried to touch her. The way Tommy was feeling he just might be able to rip him to shreds.
Hopefully before the guy shot him and, God forbid, Cassie.
Tommy tried for a blasé tone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man. There’s no other girl here. Just me and my girlfriend is all.”
“You.” The man gestured to Cassie with the gun and followed it up with tugging her out from behind Tommy. Tommy stepped between them again but the gun barrel sort of necessitated taking a step back. “Where is the girl you picked up in your boat this afternoon?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know who she was. She just asked for a ride and I gave it to her.”
It was a perfectly reasonable response, but Tommy could see she was trembling. Fuck.
“See, I told you we don’t know any girl you been looking for.” He tried to tug Cassie back to his side and this time he succeeded.
“You’re lying!” the guy spat out for good measure.
“I’m not!”
“What’s this all about anyway?” Tommy asked. “Who is the girl?”
“None of your fucking business, kid.” He yanked Cassie back, this time all the way into his arms, one beefy one along her waist and the other in a sort of a headlock along her shoulders, that one with the gun in it. “Now you are going to tell me the truth or this hot little thing is going to—”
“Okay. You’re right. Let her go and I’ll tell you where the girl went.”
Cassie’s big eyes shot to his face, but she said nothing.
“Yeah?” he prompted.
“Let her go.”
“First you talk. Or better yet, if she’s in the apartment, go get her.”
As a foreigner, he apparently wasn’t familiar with the Yankee concept of thriftiness. An apartment adjoining a country grocer didn’t exactly have a great room or master bedroom sprawled off somewhere. What you saw was what you got. About nine hundred and fifty square feet of it. So unless the girl was cowering under the bed of one of the two open bedroom doors in sight, she wasn’t there, obviously.
“She’s not here.”
The arm around Cassie’s shoulder lifted a little until it was practically around her neck.
“But I can take you to her.”
“Where?”
Tommy tried to think fast. “You’re wrong about a threesome. Cassie here isn’t into that. In fact, she was pissed about the, ah, girl.” He didn’t even know her name as he tried to fake it. “And I came over here to try to make it up to her. The girl, ah—”
“Babs,” Cassie supplied unexpectedly.
“Right. Babs.”
The guy scowled, making Tommy suspect whoever this mysterious girl was, she wasn’t exactly giving out accurate personal information.
“Anyway, she said her name was Babs and I, ah, I met her the other day and we had some fun.”
“Fucked.” The crude laugh seemed completely out of context—like a dirty little joke being told in the midst of a car crash or something—but anything to get the guy distracted.
“Right. Fucked.” He shot Cassie an apologetic look but she had bigger things on her mind or else she knew he was lying. Made no difference anyway. “She was a really hot piece of cunt.” The guy’s eyes bugged a little. He was probably getting off not only on the story but on the sensation of having poor Cassie crammed up against his hot, sweaty body. “And she was wild too. Really wild. She asked me if I had a girlfriend and when I told her who it was, I guess she went out on her own to try to arrange something with Cassie. And me of course.”
“I told her to go fuck herself!” Cassie spat out and the guy chuckled. What a moron.
“Oh, you don’t share, do you, baby?” The hand without the gun wandered up to close over one of Cassie’s breasts and her lips thinned.
He hurried on. “When Babs told me about it, I decided to come over here and try to make it up to Cassie. But I told Babs I was coming over here to convince her to join us.”
“You only came over here after you denied knowing the girl in the bar.”
“I stopped for a drink and when I heard you were looking for her, I got weirded out, I guess. But she’s waiting for me. And Cassie. I mean, I told her I would try to bring Cassie.” He was scrambling a little here, watching the asshole paw Cassie. “But anyway, she’s there now. The girl. At my apartment,” he added swiftly, inspired. “I’ll take you there.”
“I got a better idea. How about I tie you up—”
A euphemism if he’d ever heard it.
“And you wait here while this little girl and I go check it out. You know where your boyfriend’s apartment is, don’t you, babe?” He nuzzled her neck.
There was no fucking way—whether tying up was a euphemism for knocking him out or what—that he was going to allow this guy to leave with Cassie. He’d die first.
Maybe that was what the guy had in mind, pointing the gun suddenly his way. “Now sit in that fucking chair.” The thug let go of Cassie for the first time. “While my new little girlfriend here finds us some rope to tie you up with.”
“She can’t take you.”
Once free, Cassie backed away automatically until she hit the kitchen wall with her back. Good girl. Maybe she could make it to the back door.
Their assailant noticed her again and said, “You try to run, bitch, and I’ll shoot your boyfriend.”
She froze.
* * * * *
Who knew why 9-1-1 in a town this size should take so fucking long? Once Evan realized Tommy O’Neal was in there with Cassie—he could see them both through the lit-up front window of the apartment—he took the second to make the call, feeling that would ultimately be of more use to Cassie and knowing instinctively that Tommy would protect her at least for the minute or two it took to do so. The kid was a punk but he obviously had the hots for the girl. And from what Evan could hear through the open door and the acoustics of the front hallway, Tommy was doing a pretty good job of bullshitting long enough to stall the man with the gun, but he was running out of bullshit and the young couple appeared to be running out of time.
And this town in Maine was running out of funding if their response time to a call of a door getting kicked in by a man with a gun was any indication.
There was probably a back door to the Baileys’ apartment, but Evan had never been in it so he didn’t know for sure. Crouching down to Bingo’s level, he said in a low tone, “You stay, hear me?” The dog obeyed. “Don’t move a muscle.”
With one last warning look at the dog, Evan edged closer to the open door of the apartment. Since this was a commercial part of town and after business hours, the street was deserted and he seemed to be the only one listening to the rapidly degenerating standoff inside the apartment. He could tell that Tommy was either about to be tied up or conked on the head or maybe even shot while charging the guy in order to prevent the man from leaving with Cassie.
With one last glance down the empty street, no police car roaring into sight, Evan grabbed a loose piece of pipe in the corner of the front yard that old man Bailey must have left lying around—and where the hell was he anyway—and crept as quietly as he could through the door.
“Look, kid, whatever you’re thinking ain’t going to work.” Evan didn’t know if the “kid” the thug was addressing was Tommy or Cassie, but the sentiment was probably accurate either way.
“If you’re lying about the girl being at your apartment, I’m going to find out in two minutes and I’m going to blow this little bitch’s brains out, okay?”
“I’m not lying, but you’re obviously, like, hunting her or something and if she sees you coming with Cassie, she’ll panic.”
“How about she don’t see me coming? How about that?”
The guy’s back was to Evan, and to give Cassie Bailey credit, her face didn’t register any emotion as he approached quickly and brought the pipe down with sickening force on the back of the man’s neck, causing him to sink to his knees.
Tommy sprang forward and walloped the guy backhanded, whipping his head to the side with the force of it.
“That works too,” Evan muttered.
Tommy yanked the gun out of the guy’s hands and kicked him for good measure.
“Asshole,” he seethed.
Since this thug had not only threatened Cassie—hence Tommy’s fury—but was after Andrea as well, Evan couldn’t agree more.
Tommy glanced up at him. “Wow. Am I glad to see you!”
“You were doing pretty well.”
“Maybe, but I was running out of ideas.”
An audible shudder reminded them both of the girl. Tommy went to her instantly. “Cassie.” He pulled her into his arms, urging her head onto his shoulder. The tenderness of the gesture made the kid come up even a notch higher in Evan’s estimation than his performance with the thug had.
The assailant appeared to be out cold, but Evan would have still felt better about the whole thing if the cops finally showed up and took him into custody. “What the hell is the holdup with the police showing up in this town? I called them five minutes ago.”
“I don’t know. They always seem to be around when I’m not looking for them,” Tommy said, smoothing Cassie’s hair. “And anyway, haven’t you heard about the recession? Budget cuts. That crap.”
He glanced at his watch and said shortly, “No.”
The man stirred and before the young hothead could have at him again, Evan cautioned, “Just wait a minute. I want him conscious enough to answer a few questions, if you don’t mind.”
“How about some questions for you?” Cassie piped up indignantly, raising her head from the pillow of the kid’s shoulder. “What’s with this Babs girl?”
“I think that may have been a fake name,” Tommy noted.
“Whatever her name is! What kind of trouble is she in? First this guy is asking about her near the boathouse and I mention it to her—”
“You told Andrea that?”
“Yes, and suddenly she’s wanting to come on my boat—Andrea? That’s her name?”
“Yeah. Sort of.” Somehow knowing his lover had been warned someone was asking about her made her sudden flight more logical. She didn’t just leave him abruptly first chance she got.
“Well, what kind of trouble is Andrea in?”
Finally, the police sirens came.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But I’m sure as hell going to find out.”
The cop who trotted in the doorway gave quick evidence to Tommy’s adage about his experience with the police in this town. “O’Neal,” the pudgy officer commented, putting his gun back in his holster when he saw his suspect was more or less incapacitated and reaching for the handcuffs. “I might have known.”
“Hi, Officer Vinc
etti. Nice to see you too.” Tommy dutifully handed over the gun.
“This the guy who broke in?” the cop asked Evan, handing the gun off to another officer who had just come in behind him, Bingo now at his side, tail wagging, tongue lolling out.
“Some guard dog,” Evan muttered. Then, “Yes, that’s the guy.”
Hauling the suspect to his knees, Vincetti handcuffed him in the process as the move rendered the guy more energetic, and started to read him his rights.
“I wonder if I could have a few minutes alone with him?” Evan asked when the legalities were done.
“Not right now, Mr. Reynolds. We got to book him first. But if you come down with us, you too, Cassie, oh and, O’Neal, I’m sure you know the way, we can take your statements at the station.”
Evan shifted from foot to foot and petted Bingo. “Fine. We’ll be right over.”
When the cops were gone with their prisoner, Evan asked Cassie urgently, “Do you know where she went?”
“Who?”
“Babs, I’m assuming,” Tommy supplied.
“No. Like I told Tommy before this whole, whole—” She swiftly turned on Tommy. “You were lying about that sleeping-with-her thing, weren’t you?”
“Yes, he was,” Evan answered for him while Tommy reassumed some of his usual smirkiness.
“Pretty sure of yourself, Reynolds.”
“Shut up,” he and Cassie snapped at the kid in unison.
“So you picked Andrea up from the island?” Evan prompted.
“Andrea. Yes. She was asleep on your beach when I came around. I just wanted to see if there was anything you needed.”
Tommy scowled, his smirk wiped right off his face with the one allusion.
“Oh and to tell you your mother was in town, though she seems to have disappeared somewhere.”
“Probably with your old man,” Tommy muttered, earning a shocked look from Cassie.
“What!”
“My mother?” Jesus, what else did he need? He ignored the information. “Whatever. So when you saw Andrea, you offered to take her back to the mainland?”
“She asked me to once I’d mentioned that thing about her looking like whoever that guy was flashing a picture around of. She said she was going to go with you, but you’d left before she got up.”
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