Juliette could see him processing everything, just as she just had.
A moan left his lips as he sat up straighter and touched his neck, as if it were sore. “Juliette? Are you . . . okay?”
“I think I’m okay. How about you?”
His eyes squeezed shut, and his hand moved from his neck to his forehead. Juliette pulled his fingers back before he touched the cut there. Germs. If he touched it, it might get infected.
“I’m . . . alive.” He let out a small groan as he shifted on the dirty floor. “That SUV hit us. That’s the last thing I remember.”
“Me too. The driver must have gotten us out of the car and brought us here.”
Jack glanced around again, narrowing his eyes with discomfort. “Where is here?”
“I have no idea.” Juliette followed his gaze and looked around one more time.
The whole room appeared to be made from cinderblocks. The floor was sandy—but concrete lay beneath all of it, she thought. There were no windows, just a single cinderblock staircase that led to a metal hatch up top.
The whole place was dim, but there was a fluorescent bulb high above them that cast a small amount of light.
“This almost looks like an old bunker.” Jack squinted with pain again.
“Yes!” Juliette said. “That’s right. I was trying to put my finger on it, but I couldn’t. This does remind me of a bunker.”
“I did have one of the island’s older residents tell me one time that there were a couple of these on the island, left over from World War II when the U-boats used to be spotted off the shore.”
“If the situation was different, I would find that fascinating.” Right now it seemed terrifying.
“Yeah, I get that.” He grimaced again and rubbed his side.
“Jack?” Juliette nearly whispered.
He turned toward her, his gaze softening. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“Sorry because my stalker is behind this. I never planned on pulling you into this.” Her voice cracked.
“Of course you didn’t. I offered to help. There’s no need for apologies.” He stood and reached out his hand. “Now, let’s see if there’s any way we can get out of here.”
As Jack trudged back down the stairs, his entire body ached.
He didn’t think he’d broken any ribs, but he’d at least bruised some.
His head pounded, and he knew there was a gash in his forehead. He could feel the blood on his face.
Juliette didn’t look much better. She kept holding her abdomen, as if her earlier injury hurt. Her lip was busted. Small scratches scattered across her face.
Broken glass, he realized. He suspected he had those same cuts.
It seemed surreal that all of this had happened. That they were actually here right now.
That man had purposely hit them. In fact, he’d most likely hit them with the intent of knocking them out and bringing them to this very place.
And he’d picked the perfect time to do it. It had been early, when no one else was out on the road to see anything.
Jack glanced at his watch. It was 9:30 now. They’d been here for just more than an hour. Church should start before too long.
Certainly his congregation would wonder where he was. Cassidy had most likely been called to the scene of the crash. Jack would guess his car was still there on the road.
The question was: Would anyone find them?
Best he could tell, they were underground. The place smelled musty, like there had been water in here before.
That was surprising. The water table here on the island was high, which was why most of the houses were built on stilts. It wouldn’t take a big storm to fill this place with two or three feet of water.
His breath caught at the thought. Today’s abnormally high tide . . .
“What are you thinking?” Juliette studied his face.
He lowered himself beside her, feeling like he’d aged twenty years just from his injuries.
“I’m thinking that door is the only way out, and it’s locked tight,” he said. Juliette didn’t need to know about the tide danger. Not yet, at least. It would only add to her anxiety.
“So what are we going to do?”
He surveyed the room again. “At this point? I’m not sure. I don’t want to say we have no choice but to wait for the man who did this to return, but . . .”
“What if he doesn’t come back?”
Jack heard the fear in her voice. “Then I’m sure Cassidy and the gang will send out a search party and find us.”
But was he certain? He didn’t know. However, Jack didn’t want to let on to Juliette that he had any doubts. Right now, what she needed was hope.
He glanced over and saw her narrowed eyes. Saw her hand at her side. Saw her fear.
“Juliette . . .” His voice sounded raspy as he turned toward her.
Saying her name was all it took. She leaned into his arms, a cry wracking her body.
She was freezing, he realized. Her skin felt like ice.
He took off his coat and draped it over her, trying to keep her warm.
“It’s going to be okay,” he murmured, her hair tickling his face.
Just as the words left his lips, the hatch opened.
A man stood at the top of the stairs with a gun in his hands.
He didn’t wear a baseball cap and sunglasses this time. Like before, he wore a black mask with only his eyes showing.
But this was definitely Juliette’s stalker.
And his narrowed eyes showed he wasn’t happy.
Chapter Fourteen
Juliette sucked in a deep breath of air.
Her stalker.
He was here.
She pulled away from Jack, still processing the fact that she’d so easily fallen into his arms.
Juliette would have to think about that later—if she survived that long.
She scooted closer to the wall, pressing herself there.
The ache in her side panged again. Memories of being stabbed pummeled her, causing fear to invade her muscles, her lungs, her thoughts.
Jack’s arm protectively jetted out in front of her.
Jack.
He hardly knew her, but he was protecting her. Maybe real-life heroes did exist.
“You’re awake.” The man slowly walked downstairs with that gun in his hand.
There was nothing down here in this bunker—nothing but Jack and Juliette. They had no weapons or anything they could use to protect themselves.
No, right now, they were at this man’s mercy.
Please, Lord, watch us. Protect us. Protect Jack. He’s innocent here. I’m the one this man wants.
“Why are you doing this?” Jack asked, his voice steely.
The man sneered at him, acting as if Jack didn’t deserve an answer, and turned back to Juliette. “I’m sorry for the way things have played out, my love. But you weren’t cooperating so I had to take drastic measures.”
“There’s got to be another way,” Juliette pleaded. “You don’t have to do this.”
A fire lit in his eyes. “I tried the easy way, and it didn’t work. You ignored me. Called the police. Got that new alarm system.”
“That’s because you scared me.”
His gaze softened. “I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to show you how much I love you, Juliette.”
“But I don’t know you.”
His gaze darkened. “You never wanted to get to know me. You just hid.”
“I’m sorry. But it doesn’t have to end like this.” Juliette’s fingers dug into Jack’s arm.
Something seemed to click inside the man, and he took a step back. “You’re right. It doesn’t have to end like this. I just haven’t decided how it should conclude. I know you love happy endings.”
“It’s hard to write good endings sometimes,” Juliette said.
“But tragic ones have more of an impact, yes?”
“I
wouldn’t say that.” Juliette’s voice trembled.
“Let us go,” Jack growled. “Let that be your ending.”
The man’s gaze darkened even more. “You’re not supposed to be a part of this. I considered shooting you right there in your vehicle after this little accident. I’m not sure why I didn’t.”
Maybe the man did have a conscience.
Juliette could only hope.
“You still have time to make things right,” Juliette said, desperate to bargain with him. “It doesn’t have to end this way. What would the purpose be? Why would you want a sad ending?”
“Maybe a sad ending is the only thing that would make me happy.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because I don’t know how to make you love me.” John Doting paced closer and squatted down in front of Juliette. “You’re so beautiful. Do you know that? From the moment I first saw you, I knew I was in love. I just had to make you see it also.”
“When you love someone, you don’t lock them up. Or stab them.” Her voice trembled at her words. “You’ve never seen that in my books.”
“You left me no choice!” The man’s voice rose with agitation. “Don’t you understand that? I love your stories. You’re a master at what you do. I want you to succeed.”
“Why don’t you let her go?” Jack asked. “I’ll stay, and she can keep writing her stories.”
A sadistic laugh left the man’s lips as he rose again. “You? Mr. Knight in Shining Armor? The one who rode in to save the day? No, you weren’t a part of this plan. If you weren’t here, none of this would have happened.”
“There are better ways to do things,” Jack said. “You don’t need to hurt Juliette.”
“Like I said, I haven’t decided what to do!”
“Then it’s not too late—” Juliette started.
“This is my story! Now shut up!” The man’s gun fired.
Juliette screamed.
As she looked up, she realized he’d hit the ceiling. Sand trickled down from above.
Sand?
They really were underground, weren’t they?
If this was a bunker, she would guess they were close to the water.
What about the unseasonably high tide that was supposed to come tonight?
She shuddered at the thought.
Juliette’s guess was that this place would fill with water. It would explain the musty scent around her.
She and Jack . . . they’d drown. That was, if this mad man didn’t kill them first.
“I need to think,” her stalker growled, pacing away from them. It was obvious that he was becoming agitated. Or was it like he had writer’s block and was trying to come up with a brilliant plot twist?
Juliette didn’t know.
“I’ll be back.” He backed out of the room, his gun still pointed at them, ensuring they didn’t make any sudden moves.
Just as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone. Something squeaked outside, and Juliette pictured some kind of lever over the outside of the door, ensuring they couldn’t get out.
A mix of relief and fear flashed through her. Relief that he was gone. Fear that they’d die down here.
Juliette hoped her relief wasn’t short-lived.
Jack ignored the pain in his rib cage and pulled Juliette closer. She trembled beneath his hold, terrified, and rightfully so.
The man was gone, but the room was growing colder by the moment. Juliette’s trembles had deepened. And their situation was looking more hopeless.
“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered.
“I wish I felt that certain.”
Jack wished he did also. But that man was off his rocker, and Jack had no idea how things would turn out today. John Doting could leave him and Juliette down here to die. He could come back and shoot them both. He could do any number of things—none of which were pleasant.
Whatever scenario he imagined, the outcome wasn’t good.
Jack held Juliette, not saying anything. Wishing he could ease her worries. Wishing he could get them out of here.
But they were trapped.
“Why was he wearing his mask?” Juliette asked. “If he’s just going to kill us, why conceal his identity?”
“That’s a good question,” Jack said. “Maybe you would recognize him.”
“But still—what would that matter if I’m dead?”
“I’m not sure.” Jack shifted. “Could this be someone you know?”
That was what Jack’s gut feeling told him. That this man was someone familiar to Juliette. Who maybe loved her from afar. Who was afraid to tell her the truth face-to-face.
“I don’t know. I’ve considered it. I’ve considered people I’ve been in contact with in some way—whether it’s the clerk at the store or someone I work with.”
“It sounds like you have several members of your team who are male. Do any of them fit the man’s description?”
“I suppose any of them could. Well, not any but several. My accountant. My manager. My attorney. I don’t know. It’s so hard to make out any details about the man. I just know he’s white, average height and build. That’s not specific enough.”
“I understand.”
“You want to know something ironic?” Juliette sat up and wiped the moisture from beneath her eyes. She turned toward him, wincing and touching her stomach but moving on.
“What’s that?”
“I write romance novels. Publishers Weekly even called me the Queen of Clean Romance and the Master of Happily Ever After.”
“Sounds like an honor.”
A sad smile crossed her lips. “That’s the ironic part. Jack, I don’t even believe in happily ever afters anymore.”
He tilted his head as he processed her words. Juliette’s statement surprised him, to say the least. “What do you mean?”
She stared off into the distance, her mind obviously going back in time. “I write about these amazing men and women in extraordinary circumstances. I write these amazing love stories about them where they can overcome every obstacle put in their paths. Where just one smile from one to the other can make their worlds right again.”
“Sounds cozy but idealistic, I guess.”
She wiped her cheeks again, even though Jack didn’t see any moisture there.
“Two years ago, I thought I was living my own love story. I met this man named Logan Anderson. I met him in a bookshop, of all places. It was perfect, right? Since I’m a writer. He loved books. Boom.”
“Seems like it could be a good match.” Jack held his breath, wondering exactly where she was going with this. Nowhere good, if he had to guess.
“He swept me off my feet. We didn’t just have dinners together. We had picnics on the beach. He literally built a treehouse in his backyard, and we climbed into it to watch the sunset while eating olives and cheese. It was like he’d stepped off the pages of one of my books and into my life.”
Jack said nothing, just waited for her to continue, sensing that her story would take a sad turn soon.
“We got married six months after we met,” Juliette said. “It was a huge wedding. In fact, Glamour magazine featured it. Here I was, the Queen of Clean Romance, and I was getting my own love story. Everyone seemed to eat it up—just like I did.” She glanced down at her jeans, her eyes incredibly sad. “We were married for five months when I realized he had a girlfriend. He’d had a girlfriend for the entire time we’d dated and been engaged. He had this whole other life, for that matter.”
Jack’s eyes widened as he realized just how betrayed Juliette had felt. “What do you mean a whole other life?”
“I mean, he told me he was a stockbroker. In reality, he was a professional gambler.” She released a bitter laugh. “That’s right, when I thought he was headed off to work in New York, he was actually headed to Jersey to place some bets. He made it seem like he had money, but he was broke. He was more than broke. He was deep in debt.”
“I guess you didn’t question h
im before you got married?”
“I didn’t think I had a reason to question him. He was everything on my checklist. He dressed well. Drove a nice car. Had a nice house. But none of it was real. He’d charged his clothes. His car was repossessed. The house wasn’t even his, but he was paying rent to stay in one room there.”
“Man, he went to some pretty big lengths to fool you.”
“I’ve made a good deal of money on my books. He wanted part of it.”
“And you don’t seem like the type to sign a prenup.”
She shook her head. “No, it didn’t even cross my mind. I mean, I grew up upper middle class. But I wasn’t wealthy like that. It wasn’t in my sphere, you know? And Logan seemed perfect.”
“How did you discover he wasn’t?”
“Small things didn’t add up. And one day I decided to follow him. I trailed him to the casino. I saw him meet his girlfriend. I got close enough where I heard them talking about what a poor sap I was. None of it was real, Jack. None of it.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. I can’t even imagine . . .”
“It was humiliating, to say the least. Especially since he left me on Christmas.”
“Ouch.”
“Yes, ouch. And honestly? I’m not even sure there are great love stories out there anymore. I think everyone is too wrapped up in themselves to truly know what it is to love someone else. Sometimes I think I’m pulling the wool over the eyes of all my readers by making them believe that great love is possible.”
Without thinking, he reached for her hand and squeezed. “Don’t believe that, Juliette. Don’t let life beat you down like that.”
She said nothing.
“I can attest that great love stories are possible.” His throat ached as he said the words. His story was personal, not one he liked to share. “My wife and I loved each other fiercely. She was my other half.”
“And what happened?”
“God took her from me too early.” Jack glanced down, emotions battering him. Should he share? His story was so personal. But Juliette was here and a good listener, and something internal told him it was okay to open up to her. “We met after I went through seminary and was working at my first church. She moved into the apartment next door to me.”
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