Targeted

by Lori L. Harris

  “Actually,” she said before he reached the door, “there is something I need.”

  He turned back. “What’s that?”

  “To thank you. For everything. For this morning, for agreeing to let me stay here. And for this afternoon.” She dropped the paint tubes she’d been sorting into the box. “You were right. I did need to go back to the house one more time.”

  His expression didn’t change, but she thought she saw something briefly in his eyes, something she couldn’t even begin to name.

  “And I’m sorry about the kiss,” he said.

  Because she wasn’t, she offered a tight smile, but nothing more. As he again turned to go, she pushed away from the table where she’d been leaning. “And I want you to know that I’ll go the distance. I’m not a quitter.”

  He nodded, his face serious. “I’m not one, either.”

  ALEC PLACED the painting Katie had given him on the mantel where he’d propped the photos earlier, then stepped back. A small recessed light concealed in the twelve-foot ceiling brought the piece to life. The blue-green water appeared to be rising beneath the two surfers. Sunlight pierced the surface and revealed the dark ribbons of sea grass floating just beneath. Katie had studied at the Ringling School of Art and Design in Sarasota. It wasn’t a cheap education. But Katie’s parents, who had lost one child, wanted to give Katie the best.

  Alec studied the face of the young boy. You could see the excitement in his eyes as he looked over at his father. It really was a remarkable painting.

  It was the only piece of hers that had been hanging in the bungalow. And from what he could tell, the only piece she’d brought with her from Miami.

  So why had she brought it?

  In his experience, it was the why that was important.

  Working the kind of cases he had during his career had left him fairly jaded. He was rarely shocked anymore by the things people did to one another or even to themselves. But their motives, their reasons for doing things, occasionally those could still surprise him.

  He took an additional step back from the painting, but continued to study it. In a gallery, the piece would have brought more than three thousand. He knew its value because he’d seen appraisals for some of her other pieces on the Internet.

  Her artistic ability was only one of her characteristics that intrigued him. Katie Carroll was a woman of subtle layers. She didn’t actually deceive those around her, but she felt no compunction to dispel their notions about who she was. She didn’t waitress because she needed a paycheck, and yet every one of her coworkers probably thought she did. Did she avoid telling them because she wanted to fit in—something she seemed to do with surprising ease—or was there another reason?

  Katie Carroll was financially stable and was considered a rising star in the art world. On the surface, she seemed to have it all. Loving parents. An enviable bank account and status in her chosen profession. She was certainly attractive—something she tended to either ignore or play down. But even knowing all that, he didn’t know what made her tick.

  He would before it was all over.

  “SOMETHING SMELLS DELICIOUS,” Katie said several hours later when she stepped into the kitchen to find Alec at the stove.

  After arranging her studio, she’d taken a stroll around the solarium, and had even sat for a few moments on one of a pair of fainting couches at the room’s center. She tended to doubt that Alec had purchased the pieces when he had yet to furnish the large living room, so suspected the previous owner had left the antiques behind. Which seemed odd because they were so beautiful.

  Alec looked up from whatever it was that he was stirring. A towel draped his shoulder again. He nodded at a glass of red wine on the end of the breakfast bar. “That’s for you. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”

  “People who actually seem to enjoy cooking amaze me. Men especially.” She wandered over to look in the pot. It appeared to be some type of soup.

  “Seafood gumbo,” he supplied as he dipped a spoon in to give it a stir.

  She scanned the nearly spotless counters and the sink with its one rinsed dish. She’d always admired people who were neat and organized. Both seemed to be beyond her.

  “When Dad retired, he briefly took up cooking. He went for the recipes requiring eighteen ingredients and a full-time assistant to keep ahead of the mess he created. I think that’s one of the reasons Mom agreed to the motor coach. At least he’d be out of her kitchen.”

  “You don’t cook?” Alec asked, turning down the heat.

  “No. I majored in microwave and minored in the can opener.”

  He grinned, his eyes showing his surprise. “What do you usually eat, then?”

  “Sandwiches and salads mostly. Occasionally, some takeout.”

  A laptop computer sat next to the wine. As she picked up the glass, she saw herself doing so on the screen.

  “What’s this?”

  “I thought you might feel more comfortable if you saw firsthand how I’ll be able to keep track of what’s going on at the restaurant even when I’m not right there with you.”

  She picked up the glass, but didn’t take a sip. Instead, she searched for the camera, using her image to guide her. She finally located it propped on top of a decorative wall plaque. Small, innocuous. She wondered where he intended to put it in the restaurant.

  She took a sip of the wine. “Where will you be?”

  “The library just down the street. If you need me, I can get to the restaurant in less than thirty seconds.”

  That was fast. But would it be fast enough should something happen?

  She leaned against the opposite counter. “So what’s the plan?” she asked. “What happens tomorrow? What should I expect?”

  He dumped rice into a pan of water. “I’ll take you in and have my usual breakfast. I’ll place the camera then. Afterward, I’ll leave.”

  She almost lost her grip on the wineglass, sloshing some of the liquid on her hand. “Anything else I should know?”

  “You should try to stay in the main dining room as much as possible. Don’t allow yourself to be alone. And, if at all possible, try to relax.”

  The wine almost went down the wrong way with that one, but she managed to nod. “Relax? How would you suggest I accomplish that?”

  “You’ll do fine. The first hour or so will probably be tense. After that, it will start to get better. Just don’t allow yourself to relax too much. Stay alert.” He grabbed plates out of a cabinet and placed them on the counter. “Remember, I need thirty seconds. It’s going to be up to you to make sure I have it.”

  Instead of giving her confidence, Alec’s plans were making her more unsettled. Not because she didn’t think they would work, that she’d be relatively safe—as safe as possible given the circumstances—but because it made tomorrow morning seem so much closer, and the danger so much more real. As with anything—it was one thing to talk about it and another to do it.

  But this was what she wanted, right? She needed to stay firmly focused on that fact. If she wanted her life back, she needed to take it back. It was as simple as that.

  Alec selected silverware out of the drawer. When he swung his attention back to her, he looked more concerned now than he had several moments earlier. “There’s something else I need to mention to you. I had a phone call earlier.” He dumped the rice into a bowl. “Carlos Bricker has dropped out of sight.”

  Katie finished the wine in one long gulp. So her ex-boy-friend, who had made a number of her paintings disappear three months ago, had now gone underground? Things just got better and better, didn’t they?

  She poured herself another glass from the bottle sitting on the counter. “How did you find that out?”

  “I had a man keeping an eye on him, not a close one, but just to be certain he stayed in Miami.”

  “Why do that?”

  “To be sure he didn’t become a complication. It appears that he has.”

  “Just because he isn’t in Miami?�
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  “No. Because it appears he knows where you are and might be heading this direction.”

  AT EIGHT the following morning, the breakfast rush at the Alligator Café was in full swing. Two of the waitresses, both college students, and the busboy had no-showed, leaving Katie, Betty and a third waitress waiting additional tables and bussing their own dirty dishes.

  Katie pocketed the generous tip left by a couple of mechanics, and then loaded the heavy-duty plates, cups and silverware into a bin. Having spent most of the night staring up at the ceiling and listening to the floorboards creak, she was exhausted. If not for the overload of adrenaline in her system, she would have been flat on her face.

  She knew her coworkers and even several of her regular customers had another theory about why there were dark circles beneath her eyes. Evidently, the kiss in the alley yesterday had done its job. She wasn’t used to hearing her sex life discussed by people whose last names she didn’t know. But as uncomfortable as it was, it was nothing compared to how much her feet were hurting her. She was giving some serious thought to going barefoot. Why in the heck hadn’t she remembered to get her work shoes last night?

  As she wiped the table clean, the usual sounds of silverware clattering against dishware, the ongoing throb of male conversations, punctuated by sharp laughter and occasional swearing, and the scent of eggs and bacon grease and toast surrounded her as they had for two months now. In the past, she’d rarely paid attention to the conversations of her customers, but today she found herself listening to talk of cattle and oranges and some upcoming political rally.

  She glanced often to where Alec sat near the back of the restaurant. Either he wasn’t suffering the adrenaline overload, or his years with the FBI had taught him to cope. In another fifteen or twenty minutes, he’d be leaving. She still didn’t know how she was going to handle that moment.

  Hefting the load of dirty dishes onto a hip, she motioned for the party of four men near the door to have a seat at the table. She enjoyed most aspects of her job, clearing and wiping down tables wasn’t one of them.

  As she headed for the kitchen with the dishes, the front door opened again, the usual sharp ding going nearly unheard by most of the room’s occupants. Turning to see who had come in, she felt the first jolt of fear hit her midchest. The man was backlit, but she would know him anywhere. Carlos. She backed away.

  Her gaze swung to where Alec sat. As their gazes connected, he rose in what seemed like slow motion. His hand reached inside his jacket as he started forward.

  She looked back at the man. He stood still just inside the door.

  The heavy throb of blood in her ears muffled the surrounding chatter. Her breath came soft and shallow and too fast.

  Move!

  Around her, no one seemed to notice. They continued to go about their business, eating eggs, munching toast, sipping coffee.

  She took a step backward. She started to turn, but her foot hooked a chair leg. The bin of dishes slipped off her hip and crashed to the floor.

  Everyone looked up at the sound, including the man just inside the door. Their eyes connected for the briefest of moments, but it was long enough for her to realize her mistake.

  She quickly knelt to pick up the broken dishes. It wasn’t Carlos. The height, build and coloring were the same, but it wasn’t her ex-boyfriend. And even if it had been, she was overreacting. She might not want to see him, but it wasn’t Carlos who was trying to kill her.

  A man sitting nearby scooped up several large pieces of broken plate from beneath his feet and placed them in the bin. “Are you okay, Miss?”

  “I’m fine.” She tried not to look at him. Her hands were shaking. In fact her whole body still trembled. “I can get this. Enjoy your breakfast.”

  Alec squatted next to her. “Are you okay?”

  Embarrassed, she continued to pick up pieces of broken dinnerware. “I’m fine. I just lost my grip.”

  Alec’s fingers wrapped around her wrist, stilling her action. Her pulse raced strong and erratic beneath the pressure. And it wasn’t only because of what had just happened. Even in the crowded restaurant, there was something about the two of them being down there on the floor that created an odd sense of intimacy. And right then, that wasn’t what she needed. She needed space and a few moments alone.

  Alec’s fingers brushed across her wrist. The bruises there were nearly a week old now, but had yet to fade completely.

  “Fine, huh?” Alec asked.

  Betty, the head waitress and sometimes cook, stooped to help. “You okay, hon?” Betty placed a mug in the bin, then used the dishrag to wipe up the worst of the food mess on the floor. “What happened?”

  “I tripped.” Katie stood, taking the bin with her. “You know me. Two left feet.”

  Betty reached for the dishes. “Let me have that. You go get yourself cleaned up.”

  Glancing down at the front of her, Katie realized she had eggs and coffee and orange juice splattered everywhere. “Thanks.” When she turned, she came face-to-face with Alec again. She pushed past him, anxious to reach somewhere quiet, somewhere where she didn’t feel as if everyone was watching her.

  She headed for the storage room where she kept a change of clothes and her purse. The doctor had given her a whole bottle of Valium right after the attack, but determined to shake her fear, she’d refused to take even the first one. But not anymore. From here on out, she’d take any help she could get, including drugs.

  She poured one into her sweaty palm. Just enough to take off the edge. Just enough to get her through the next few hours. She stared at the small pill, recalled how, following her sister’s death, the doctor had given her mother the same prescription.

  But Annie Carroll hadn’t taken the first one.

  Katie dropped the pill back into the bottle and shoved the container to the bottom of her purse. Not today. Today she could handle the fear.

  The room was no more than ten by ten and the walls were completely covered in crude wood shelving filled with the usual restaurant supplies: the hefty cans of green beans, the large bags of flour and rice. Even after repeated washings, the bare concrete floor seemed impregnated with the mustiness of dirt.

  In spite of the smell, she kicked off her shoes. She untied the apron and tossed it aside before ripping off the T-shirt with the large alligator on it. Just a few more hours. She just had to hang in there until after the lunch crowd. Bending, she used the discarded shirt to wipe most of the mess off her legs. She grabbed a clean one from the shelf above. She pulled it on over her head, shoving first one arm, then the other through. The shirt still caught above her breasts, she looked up.

  Alec stood in the doorway, his expression revealing nothing of what he might be thinking. “The door was open.”

  How long had he been standing there? She tugged the T-shirt down over her scarred rib cage and tucked it into her waistband. Had he noticed them? The scars had faded quite a bit over the years, but she still felt self-conscious of them. “Anyone ever suggest you wear a bell around your neck?”

  “Like a cat? No. There have been other suggestions, though.” He offered up a smile. “Not nearly as polite.”

  She was being unfair. He’d just come to see if she was okay. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I guess I’m nervous.”

  “What happened out there?”

  “The man who came in looked a lot like Carlos.” She tied a fresh apron around her waist. “I keep this mantra going inside my head—you’re okay, you’ll survive this—but sometimes, between the blood pounding in my ears, my heart slamming against my ribs and my knees knocking together, I can barely hear it.”

  Alec had waited in the doorway, but now he came toward her.

  She turned away, pretending to get another towel. Pressing the thumb and index finger of her right hand over her eyes, she tried to stop the tears. Crying wouldn’t help anything, any more than a damn pill would.

  “I just need to be alone for a few minutes,” she said.

&n
bsp; Instead of leaving, he reached out and cupped her shoulders, the heat of his palms penetrating her T-shirt. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized just how cold she was.

  “You need to be easier on yourself.”

  He turned her toward him, his right hand sliding along her shoulder and coming to rest against the side of her neck. Just as it had earlier, her pulse beat heavy and hard against the warm pad of his thumb.

  Closing her eyes, she let herself just feel. She licked her dry lower lip and then swallowed unsteadily. Time stretched, and the fear of moments earlier faded, her awareness shifting toward the man who touched her. Several inches separated their bodies, but she could feel him. The hard muscles of his chest, the taut ones of his abdomen, the tension that had seemed to crackle even more strongly between them since the kiss yesterday…

  His fingers trembled subtly, but he didn’t remove them. Instead, his thumb moved upward to rest just in front of her ear.

  Her lungs shut down for several seconds, as she waited in the dark abyss for the next sensation.

  Then he stroked the line of her jaw, the action forcing her to lift her chin. A soft, guttural moan escaped from deep inside her.

  “Katie?”

  She opened her eyes, and for the first time glimpsed what lay beneath the controlled surface of Alec Blade. Raw heat and something so primitive and elemental that she couldn’t name it.

  If he ever let go, the storm would lay waste to all in its path, or take a woman someplace she’d never dreamed of going.

  A place she suddenly realized that she wanted to go. With this man.

  Her lips parted and her gaze focused on Alec’s mouth as it descended toward hers. Inhaling roughly, she closed her eyes to wait.

  Alec suddenly pulled back and stepped away. Opening her eyes, she saw the reason. Betty stood in the doorway. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just came to see if you were all right.”

  Katie tried a smile but knew it was shaky at best. “I’m fine,” she said as she shoved her feet back into her shoes. “I’ll be right out.”

  As Betty turned away, Katie didn’t know what to feel—irritation or relief. She glanced up at Alec as she slipped past him, but his eyes were once more dark and unreadable.