by Sara Davison
Before she realized what he was going to do, Ryan spun around, strode to the wardrobe in the corner, and flung open both doors. Nothing hung on the bar except empty hangers.
“Interesting.” He turned around. “What exactly were you planning to change into?”
Summer’s jaw worked, but she didn’t answer.
He bent down, picked up her suitcase, and tossed it onto the mattress. “Seriously? You were going to run?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin. “You have no right to tell me what I can do or where I should go. I’m free to leave anytime I want to.”
Ryan’s gaze bore into her, but she refused to look away. Finally he lifted both hands. “Whoever broke into your house is still out there. You could be walking right into his trap if you leave. I care about you. A lot. Does that not give me any say at all in whether or not you do something that could put you in extreme danger?”
Summer uncrossed her arms. “That’s the thing. I’m already in danger. But if I stay here, so are you and Nancy. And I don’t know what I’d do if…” She stopped and swallowed. “I can’t be responsible for anything happening to either of you.”
Ryan came back around the bed, walked over to her, and took her face in his hands.
Sé fuerte. Stay strong. She may as well have told the stars to stop twinkling in the night sky.
His eyes, light brown with tiny flecks of green she hadn’t noticed before, probed hers. “If you’re doing this for Nancy and me, doesn’t that give us the right to an opinion? Please come down and have breakfast with us. We can discuss this together and figure out a plan.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “You don’t have to do any of this alone. Not when you have people here who love you and want to help you.”
She blinked rapidly. Was he saying that he loved her?
“All right?”
Even if she’d been able to withstand the feel of his touch against her skin or the earnestness in the eyes that searched hers, she couldn’t resist the pleading in his voice. Her shoulders slumped. “All right.”
He kissed her forehead again. “Thank you. I’ll go help Nancy finish getting ready. I’ll see you downstairs.”
She nodded and watched him as he left her room and disappeared into the hallway. So much for her brilliant plan. Her car keys hung on a hook in the kitchen, so even if she changed her mind, there was no way she could grab them and leave without him knowing. And maybe the three of them could figure out a plan together. While she’d do anything to make sure neither of them got hurt, she didn’t want to leave them, either.
With a sigh, Summer trudged out of her room and pulled the door closed. As she descended the stairs, Ryan’s voice and Nancy’s laughter carried up to her. In spite of herself, warmth rushed through her chest. At the bottom of the stairs, she took a step toward the kitchen, anxious to be with them. Ryan’s leather coat, draped across the chair inside the door, caught her eye and she sighed. More than likely he was going to end up staying a while longer. Might as well hang his coat up in the front hall closet.
She grasped the soft leather with both hands. The hint of musk she’d smelled on Ryan the night before drifted from the coat and she lifted it to her face. Something dropped onto the floor and she lowered the jacket and glanced at the object lying on the round carpet. The blood flowing through her veins went ice cold.
A pack of cigarettes.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Summer stormed into the living room. How dare Ryan, or whatever his real name was, follow her to this town, pretend to want some kind of relationship with her? What kind of a sick person did that? Spent that much time grooming his quarry to… to what, trust him? Fall in love with him? Did he derive some kind of perverse pleasure from watching her fall under his spell? How far had he planned to take this thing anyway? Was he trying to make sure she was completely and utterly vulnerable before he finished the job he had started back at her house?
She shuddered and dropped to her knees in front of the couch so she could yank his bag out from underneath it. After shooting a quick glance at the doorway, she set the bag on the couch and unzipped it.
Summer shoved aside clothes, a shaving kit, and a Bible. Where was his wallet? She needed to see his ID, find out who this guy really was. The back of her hand knocked against something hard and she unzipped the side pocket of the bag and reached in. Her fingers closed around something round and cold and she tightened her grip and drew it out of the bag. Her eyes widened. A gun.
Until she saw it, felt the cold metal against her skin, she’d held out hope that she was wrong, that Ryan wasn’t the man who had shoved her down the stairs. But why else would he have a gun? And she knew that whoever had been watching her, whoever had broken into Nancy’s house, was a smoker. All those times she’d smelled cigarette smoke outside the café, inside her home, even… She pressed a hand to her chest. The first day when she’d arrived in Elora and had seen the cigarette butt beneath the tree. Had Ryan been watching her even then? The two pieces of evidence together were so incriminating there was no other plausible explanation.
Still clutching the weapon, Summer scrambled to her feet. She had to get Nancy away from him and then she could confront Ryan, demand that he tell her exactly who he was and what he wanted from her. And if he didn’t, well, it would be pretty easy to plead self-defence if she ended up having to use the gun to protect herself and Nancy. A shudder moved through her at the thought, but she quelled it immediately.
Concéntrate. Ryan was good. Somehow he knew exactly what words to use, how to look at her, where to touch her to get her to soften towards him. She couldn’t allow him to do that now.
Clutching the pistol against her thigh she crept to the doorway of the living room and peered out. Dishes clattered in the kitchen and she could hear water running in the sink. They were both still in there. Summer took a step into the entryway and stopped. Something about this felt all wrong. She hadn’t known Ryan long, but somehow it seemed a lot longer. There was something between them, something powerful that she’d have thought would have taken a lot longer to develop. At least, she had believed there was. Even though he was right and she had been testing him the night before, deep inside she believed that he would pass, that she could trust him. Was it a coincidence that he had a pack of cigarettes in his pocket—even though she’d never seen him with one—when she’d been smelling smoke around her, even in her home?
She ran shaking fingers across her forehead. With her head injury, could she even trust her instincts? Irrational paranoia could very well be a lingering effect from her attack. The cold metal of the gun pressed against her leg and she lowered her hand. No. This was more than paranoia. The cigarettes she might be able to explain away, but not the gun. If he did happen to have a reasonable explanation for carrying a weapon around, well, he could tell it to the police.
Her jaw tight, Summer strode across the foyer and stopped in the doorway. Ryan stood in front of the stove, flipping pancakes. Nancy leaned over the sink on the far side of the room, filling the kettle.
Summer gripped the pistol in both hands. It felt so natural, as though she had held a gun before. Had she? When she raised the weapon, something happened, like a switch going off in her brain. Every bit of anger and apprehension and doubt dissipated, replaced by a calm, chill detachment.
She took three steps into the room and stopped, pointing the weapon directly at Ryan. “Nancy, can you come over here please?” Her voice was cool and even, with barely a trace of an accent.
Both of them turned to look at her. Ryan’s eyes went immediately to the gun and the color drained from his face. Nancy set the kettle down on the counter. “Ana? What are you doing?”
She gestured with the weapon. “Come over here and I’ll explain.”
Nancy’s brow furrowed as she made her way to Summer.
Ryan set the lifter down slowly and turned off the burner on the stove. “This isn’t what you think.”
“What I thin
k is that you have been playing some kind of sick game with us.”
“No, I…” He took a step toward her.
Summer released the safety on the gun. He stopped and lifted his hands in front of him. She kept her eyes laser-focused on him. “Nancy, call 911. Tell them we have the man who was in our house the other night.”
“What? You think Ryan broke into our place?” Nancy lifted the phone off the base attached to the wall behind her.
“I know he did.”
Ryan shook his head. “Nancy, wait.” He took another step toward them.
Summer’s finger tightened on the trigger. “Take one more step and I will shoot.” He stopped.
Nancy clutched the receiver but didn’t dial.
Keeping his hands in the air, Ryan swung his gaze back to Summer. “Let me explain, please.”
“What possible explanation could you have for bringing a gun into our house?”
“It isn’t my gun.”
“Then whose gun is it?”
“Look at the way you’re holding it. Whose do you think it is?”
Her jaw tightened. “Don’t play games with me, Jude. You know I hate it when you treat me like a client on your couch and answer my question with a…”
She froze.
Jude eased his hands down, his eyes not leaving hers. She remembers.
“Who is Jude?” Frowning, Nancy moved closer to Summer.
Summer lowered the Glock to her side. “He is.” She waved a trembling hand in Jude’s direction.
He took a step toward her, but she held up a hand to stop him. Her eyelids flickered. How must that feel, years of memories flooding into her mind all at once? Pretty much like standing at the bottom of a dam when it burst, sending millions of gallons of water crashing over her with destructive force, most likely. As though she might actually be physically swept away. He’d give her a minute to get her footing.
She drew in a shuddering breath. “He’s my fiancé. No.” Summer stopped and shook her head slightly. “Ex-fiancé.” She pressed her eyes shut. Jude’s heart sank. He knew exactly which memory assaulted her now. And Cash was right, as usual. On some level Jude might have been hoping that was one memory she didn’t regain.
She opened her eyes and glanced down at her finger before slowly lifting her head to meet his gaze. “We were engaged and then he told me he didn’t want to marry me.”
Nancy’s head spun toward him, the orange baubles in her ears swinging wildly. “What?”
Jude swallowed. “I didn’t tell you I didn’t want to marry you—that would have been a lie. I’d never wanted anything so badly in my life. I told you I needed more time.”
She pressed the fingers of her free hand to her temples, as though trying to push back the confusion. “Why?”
“I didn’t even know at the time. But I do now. I was scared. The night Tessa…” he stopped and gripped the counter, needing the support, “… the night she died, something happened inside me. I blamed myself and I couldn’t let it go. I carried that guilt around with me for five years, struggling to figure out how I could possibly make up for the past. I couldn’t marry you because I couldn’t see a way to move forward into a future with you. But then Cash said something to me…”
Her head jerked and he stopped. “Cash is your brother.”
He sighed. “Yes.” As his brother had suggested she would, she’d clearly added that to the long list of lies he’d told her. When she didn’t say any more, he pushed on. “Anyway, what he said helped me to finally figure out that I can’t make up for what happened, that I don’t have to. God has forgiven me and so has my family. I’ve even been able to forgive myself, something I never thought would happen. I can finally move on.” He edged closer to her. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Summer. I hope you can find a way to forgive me too.” If he needed to, he would get down on his knees and beg, like he would have the first day he saw her, and not care how it made him look.
She stepped back. “You lied to me.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Why did those words always have to sound so small in the shadow of what he had done?
Nancy frowned. “Who is Summer?”
She sighed. “I’m Summer.” She rubbed her forehead with the side of her hand. “I’m sorry, Nancy. I lied too. I recently suffered a head injury and didn’t remember the last few years of my life. I came to Elora to try to get away from…” She dropped her hand and shifted her gaze back to him. Likely it had just occurred to her that if Jude wasn’t the one following her, someone else still was.
“From what?”
“My parents, for starters. And the person who attacked me, in case he planned to come back and finish the job.”
Nancy’s face blanched. “Attacked you?”
“Yes. But now I realize that I never should have come here. I never should have involved you in all of this. It was selfish and—”
“Stop.” Nancy grasped her elbow. “It was the good Lord himself who brought you here. I’m not one to question his ways and you don’t need to be apologizing for them either. Don’t you worry.” She returned the cordless phone to the base. “And now that we have established who everyone is,” she shot a look at Jude, who dipped his head in mute apology, “we can figure this thing out together.”
“Thanks, Nancy.” Summer set the gun down on the counter and reached for the phone. “I know exactly where to start. I need to call the detective sergeant.”
Nancy let go of her. “The police?”
Jude nodded. “She’s a detective with the Toronto PD. Hence the gun.”
Nancy’s eyes widened. “You’re a cop?”
“Yes.” Summer hit the button to get a dial tone.
Jude closed the distance between them and stopped her with a hand on her arm. She looked down at it and back at him and he withdrew it. “Look, I know you’re angry with me, but you have to listen. It won’t help to call the DS. I’ve been communicating with your partner. They’re working night and day to try and find out who did this to you and figure out if he has tracked you down here. Some of your colleagues have been driving past the house and the café whenever possible.”
“Evan knows I’m here?”
“Yes. They’re close to breaking this case open. We need to wait to hear from him.”
She hesitated before replacing the phone. Her eyes narrowed. “Speaking of tracking me down, how did you know where I was? I made sure no one was following me and I dumped my phone back at the house. There’s no way you could have known where I…” Her dark eyes widened and she snatched her car keys from the hook on the wall and whirled toward the front entryway.
“Summer.” He had to stop her from going outside, out in the open where she would be a target, like he had been standing in the window the night before. Jude took off after her, calling her name again, but the only response was the slamming of the front door.
Jude’s footsteps pounded down the porch steps, but Summer didn’t look back. Her car was parked at the curb across the street. He’d planted a trace on it—or in it—somewhere and she was determined to find it to prove it. Once she did, he would have a lot of explaining to do about everything he had kept from her since he’d shown up in Elora.
She stalked down the driveway and around to the front of it and crouched to feel inside the bumper. In seconds her fingers closed over a small plastic device and she yanked it out and straightened. Jude stopped a few feet from her.
Summer held the device out in his direction. “You tracked me.”
“I had to. I couldn’t risk losing you.”
She shoved the device into the pocket of her jeans. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”
“I couldn’t. I had no idea what lies your parents had told you about me. When I tried to see you, your father confronted me. He said if I didn’t leave you alone, he would tell the police it was me who attacked you. And he claimed he’d already told you that.”
“He hadn’t. And it wasn’t. He could never have proved it was.�
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“It would have been hard for me to prove it wasn’t, without your testimony. No evidence was found at the house, but it wouldn’t have been that hard for your father to go in and plant some. Not only that, but he had a recording of you and me talking the last time we were at your place. You were clearly trying to end things with me and I was arguing with you, doing everything I could to persuade you not to. That alone would have made me look like a possible suspect.”
The fight went out of Summer and her shoulders slumped. “After I kicked you out of my house, why did you follow me here?”
“I had to make sure you were safe.”
“Even though I didn’t know who you were?”
His eyes met hers. “Yes.” After a few seconds of silence, he cleared his throat. “I love you, Summer. I’m hoping and praying you’ll give me another chance to prove to you how much you mean to me. I don’t want to do this life without you.”
Summer studied him. Could she believe him? Trust that he wouldn’t push her away like he had before? Her eyes searched his. How often had she wished she could read them, see what he was thinking and feeling, but they’d been closed, indecipherable. Her breath caught. They were open now, meeting hers steadily. The tortured look that had so often hovered in them was gone.
It was Jude. He was the one. The one who had changed her life so much over the last few years. Who had taken her hand and walked with her to the front of the church that day. And the one who had loved her more deeply than anyone else ever had, who had showed her she was capable of loving, too. Yes, he’d hurt her. But now he was the one who had changed.
She took a step toward him. “I—”
A strong arm wrapped around her neck, choking off her air supply and dragging her around the far side of the car.
Jude, his face ashen, started toward her, but the man behind her pressed the sharp tip of a blade to the side of her neck. “One more step and she’s dead.”
Summer clawed at the man’s arm, desperate to draw in a breath. Black spots danced in front of her eyes. His thick Spanish accent confused her. Who was he? The man who had attacked her in her home didn’t sound like that.