Reckonings

by Cynthia Eden

  Sylvia nodded, her eyes wide and scared as she tossed Jamie the keys.

  Jamie caught them in midair. “Thank you,” she called out as she raced for the door. There were no clients around—thank goodness—but if they had been there, she still would have run right through them. Davis. He was all she could think about. She had to get to him.

  Mac was dead wrong if he thought Jamie would sit in the background while Davis needed her.

  She rushed toward Sylvia’s car, shoved the key into the lock—

  And saw the man’s reflection in the window. Big, broad shoulders, wearing a ski mask—

  Jamie spun around and opened her mouth to scream, but he slapped his hand over her lips.

  “Missed you...”

  This time, she could see his eyes. That cold blue stare that she’d never been able to forget.

  “I knew you’d call the cops on me... I know you so well... I just needed you to come outside...” And he lifted his hand. His fingers curled around the syringe he had there. “Borrowed this from your office last night.”

  She kicked out at him, aiming for his groin.

  “If it can knock out a horse, it should work on you.”

  She kicked harder. His hold slipped, and she managed to surge away from him. “Sylvia!” Jamie screamed. “Help—”

  He grabbed her and jammed the needle into her neck. The pain was fast, white-hot, pouring through her veins. She kept fighting him, but her movements quickly grew sluggish. Her body started to sag, and he looped his arms around her waist, hauling her back toward the other car there. A vehicle she hadn’t even noticed moments before. A car that was...

  Davis’s? Yes, it was the SUV he’d rented after his truck had been totaled, and she clawed at the door, holding it tightly because Jamie was afraid that if he drove away with her...

  She’d never escape him again.

  She tried to scream, but only a rough whisper escaped from her.

  “Get in the damn car!” Henry snarled at her, and he hit her, a blow that sent her slumping back.

  “Jamie!”

  She managed to turn her head. Henry had slammed the door, and he was running toward the driver’s side. But that cry—that had been Sylvia’s cry. Sylvia was racing out of the clinic and toward them.

  Jamie just had to open the car door. She had to get to her friend.

  But her fingers weren’t working properly. Actually, she couldn’t feel them at all. She could only sag against the window, staring helplessly, as Henry raced away. Her gaze was on Sylvia. She could see her friend screaming.

  And Jamie could do nothing.

  * * *

  “DAVIS!”

  He heard the roar as if it came from a distance, but the hard hands shaking him—they were sure up close and personal. A rough grip tightened around his shoulders, and the shaking started again. “Dammit, Davis, you look at me, now!”

  Footsteps. Pounding. “Stop it, Mac!” Another rough shout. “He’s got a head wound, he needs—”

  “Jamie.” The one word sounded like a croak from him, but just saying her name gave Davis strength. He forced his eyes open, and he saw Mac crouching above him. Mac was the one who’d been shaking him. The one staring down at him in horror.

  Just how bad do I look?

  “I thought you were gone,” Mac muttered, and his brother was as pale as a ghost. “Dammit, don’t ever do that crap to me again.”

  He could hear the distant scream of a siren. Davis tried to sit up, but his head pounded so hard that nausea rolled through his whole body. “He...hit me...”

  “Uh, from the look of things...” Grant was there, too, standing just a few feet away. He pointed to the floor. “The guy broke a chair over your head.”

  He’d gone into the room, seen Sean and—

  He whipped around, and, for a moment, the pounding in his head grew so strong that the whole room darkened. No, not again. But then the darkness lightened to gray, and he could see Sean. Only, Sean wasn’t moving.

  “There wasn’t anything I could do for him,” Mac said, voice gruff. “He was gone by the time I got here.”

  But he was still alive when I came in. If I hadn’t let that SOB get the drop on me, I could have helped him. I could have—

  “It was Henry,” Mac said as the sirens grew louder. “He called Jamie. Told her that you were here. Man, I haven’t been that scared since—” His lips clamped shut and he just said, “Never do that again.”

  He called Jamie. Those words echoed through his pounding head as Davis tried to push himself up. Tried, failed, twice, but Mac helped him, and he finally staggered to his feet. “Where is she?”

  “She’s safe,” Mac said, his hands moving to steady Davis. “She’s at the clinic with Sylvia. Don’t worry.”

  But he was worried because... Henry was here. Henry was obsessed with Jamie. Henry had just killed Sean—

  Why didn’t he kill me?

  The guy had the opportunity. Davis had been helpless once he hit the floor. So why am I still alive?

  “Need...her,” Davis said. He hated that his words sounded so slurred. Hated that black spots kept dancing before his eyes.

  “Yeah, yeah, I get that,” Mac assured him.

  Grant came around and slid his shoulders under Davis’s arm.

  The room smelled of blood. Of death.

  I need Jamie.

  “Let’s get you patched up,” Grant said. Worry roughened his voice. “And we’ll get Jamie to meet us at the hospital.”

  “I don’t want...to go...hospital...” Davis muttered. “Want—”

  “Jamie, yes, we’ve got that, but you have to get checked out. The guy split open your head,” Mac said, voice still gruff. “And you looked dead when I burst into that room. Do you hear me? Dead. You’re going to get stitched up, then we’ll find that creep—”

  “Find... Jamie...get her...” He had to see her, had to touch her. Need her.

  “We’ll get her,” Grant promised.

  “I’ll bring her to the hospital, okay?” Mac said quickly. “Just calm down. I get that she’s important, I get it.”

  They were outside. He could see the bright swirl of lights. An ambulance was there, and Davis was slowly lowered onto a stretcher.

  “I’ll bring her,” Mac promised him. “You just don’t do anything dumb, like dying on me, got it?”

  The bright lights made his head ache even worse. “Got...it.”

  * * *

  THE STREET SPOKE of money and prestige. The perfect houses, the well-manicured lawns. Everything was in perfect place.

  Sullivan stared up at 5320 Wind Crest. The home that belonged to Jamie’s parents, parents that she hadn’t seen in years.

  Sullivan had gone to that address because something about the case was nagging at him.

  Like it’s just one thing.

  He should have been preparing to fly back home. At the very least, he needed to call and check in with Davis but...

  A piece of the puzzle is missing.

  Because he’d actually believed Garrison when the man said he’d been getting notes. Letters about the past. Only Sullivan didn’t think Jamie had been sending those notes.

  He headed toward the door. There were no guards at this house. No security cameras. He pressed the bell and heard the happy barking of a dog. He tensed at the sound, and a few moments later, the door opened.

  The small, white dog was held in a woman’s arm. A woman with blond hair and blue eyes. A woman who looked far more like Jamie’s sister than she did her mother. Her face was perfectly made up, her makeup absolutely flawless. Her skin was creamy, clear, and he didn’t see even a single line on her face.

  She frowned at him, only the frown moved just part of her face. “May I help you?�
�

  “Penelope? Penelope Bridgeton?”

  “Yes.” But she backed up a step and suddenly appeared wary. “Who are you? What do you want?”

  This was a gamble. A big one. “I’m a friend of your daughter’s.”

  Her lips trembled. Her eyes seemed to tear up. “That’s not funny. How dare you come to me and—” She drew herself up.

  The dog growled at Sullivan.

  “Get off my property,” she said. “Don’t ever come back or I will call the police.” She started to close the door in his face.

  He caught the edge of the door. The dog growled again. “She looks like you,” Sullivan told her bluntly. “A lot like you.”

  Penelope’s mascara wasn’t quite so perfect anymore.

  “Do you miss her?” She had to miss her daughter, didn’t she? Miss her enough to potentially do something reckless? “Do you think about what happened when you sit in this big house? A house that her pain probably bought for you?”

  “Get out...” Then her voice rose. “Ray! Raymond, get in here! Help me!”

  More footsteps, rushing in the direction of the door. Sullivan looked to the right and saw a tall, dark-haired man coming toward him. While Penelope had aged well—or with help—the man appeared haggard. Too thin. Old before his time. His hair was shot through with silver.

  “Get away from my wife!” Raymond Bridgeton blasted.

  Sullivan dropped his hand and freed the door. “My mistake. I thought you two might care about what’s happening with Jamie.” He shook his head. “After all, I’m pretty sure it was your letters that set Henry off, Mrs. Bridgeton.”

  She paled. “Wh-what’s happening?”

  But Raymond pushed her back into the foyer. “Call the police. This man—he’s lying to you. He doesn’t know our Jamie. He—”

  “She’s a veterinarian, do you know that? Finished her studies, and she’s been practicing for years. She’s got a dog named Jinx, a real wild one that only listens to her.” He inclined his head. “And I think she was happy...until someone torched her house. Until she was run off the road. But, hey, what do you care, right? You haven’t seen her in years. Not your problem anymore, I get that. Like I said, my mistake.” He turned on his heel.

  Sullivan had taken two steps when a hand grabbed his arm and yanked him back around. He stared into Penelope’s tear-filled eyes. “Is Jamie okay?”

  Sympathy moved in him. “She was when I left her. My brother’s looking after her. He cares about her.” Sullivan suspected that Davis’s feelings were a whole lot more complex than just caring, but he stuck with that safe word.

  “I miss her,” Penelope whispered. “And I am so sorry.” Her tears came then—hard, wrenching tears that shook her entire body and splotched her face. “I’m so sorry.” She crumpled, and she would have fallen to her knees, but Raymond grabbed her. He held her tight. Grief and pain were clear on his face, too.

  Raymond blinked his eyes a few times, his Adam’s apple bobbed, and he rasped, “You really know our Jamie?”

  “Yes, I—” His phone rang. And the ringtone told him that it was his brother Grant. “Excuse me,” he murmured. Bad timing. He answered the phone. “Look, Grant, I’ll call you right back—”

  “I’m on the way to the hospital with Davis.”

  His breath rushed out.

  “He was attacked, and Mac is saying that Henry called Jamie, that the guy confessed to her—”

  “It is Henry,” Sullivan said even as his heart began to race fast in his chest. “The guy has a double that he’s been using up here, a guy who pretends to be him in the psych facility. From what I can tell, the real Henry Westport has been gone for at least a month.” And has he been stalking Jamie in Texas that whole time? “Is Davis all right?” His hold on the phone was far too tight.

  “He’s going to be fine.” Grant sounded determined. “But Sean Nyle wasn’t so lucky. Henry stabbed him five times—once in the heart, a wound that guy couldn’t survive.”

  Hell. “Tell me that he’s in custody.”

  “Not yet. We need you back here, man. Now.”

  “I’m on the way.” It was happening again. His family needed him—and he was too far away to do any good. His worst nightmare. When his parents had been attacked, he’d been an ocean away on a Black Ops mission. It had taken days for the news to reach him. He hadn’t even gotten home in time for the funeral.

  He glanced back at Jamie’s parents. She hadn’t talked to them in years. They were alive, a phone call away from her, but she’d turned her back on them.

  Because they sold her out. “How much was your daughter worth?” He looked at the fancy house. “And are you coming to realize that whatever they gave you, it could never be enough?” He would give anything, pay any price, if he could have his parents back with him.

  “We made a mistake,” Penelope said, voice and face tormented. “Jamie was alive, safe... We thought they’d keep Henry locked up. Garrison told us that he’d never been like that before, that he would never be a threat to her again.”

  Get to Davis.

  “Your son didn’t believe that, did he? That’s why he was with Jamie. He was protecting her.”

  A tear slid down her cheek, taking a black trail of mascara with it. “We protected Jamie, too...”

  His eyes narrowed.

  Raymond put his hands around Penelope’s thin shoulders. “How do you think the US Marshals got involved? Once we saw that the Westports were never going to leave her alone—”

  “Even bribing that terrible Sean Nyle to lie about her,” Penelope gritted.

  The way you lied, too?

  “I called in every favor I had,” Raymond continued. “And, yeah, some of those strings involved Garrison.”

  Garrison had been in on the US Marshal deal?

  “I would have made a deal with the devil then if I thought it would keep Jamie safe.”

  He had dealt with the devil.

  “Garrison pulled strings. We got Jamie that new life. We got Jamie away from all the pain and fear.”

  No, sir, you didn’t. She’s been afraid this whole time.

  “She didn’t know it,” Raymond continued gruffly, “but I helped to get her set up in a new place, with a new life. It broke my heart, but I knew it had to be done. She was losing more and more of herself every day. She had to get away.” He swallowed. “From us all.”

  And I have to go, too. “My brother’s in the hospital,” Sullivan told them. “I have to go back to him.”

  Penelope stepped forward. “But Jamie...she’s okay? She’s...happy?”

  He nodded and turned to leave.

  “If she...if she ever asks about us, will you tell her how sorry I am? Every day that passes, every year...” Her voice dropped. “I miss her more and more.”

  Sullivan glanced back at her. “Is that why you sent those notes to Garrison and Henry? Because you miss Jamie—”

  Her eyes glinted. “I miss her, and I hate them.”

  And he knew with one hundred percent certainty that she’d sent the notes. Notes that had stirred up a man’s obsession. Or, hell, maybe that obsession had been there all along, and Henry had just finally gotten lucky and found Jamie again.

  Because if Davis was in the hospital, if he’d been taken out, then Sullivan knew exactly who Henry’s next target would be...

  Jamie.

  * * *

  JAMIE’S EYES SLOWLY OPENED. It was dark around her, so dark, but she could hear a faint...grinding sound.

  She reached out and realized that her hands were tied. A thick, rough rope circled her wrists. She stretched her legs and found that her ankles were bound, too.

  How long was I out?

  She kept stretching, lifting her bound hands and feet as she tried to figure out
—

  She hit something. Something hard. Something metal? She pushed, moving her hands, and realized that she was in a very, very small space.

  The grinding quieted and then...stopped.

  Jamie rolled.

  Rolled.

  And she realized where she was. The dark space. Too tight. The sound that she could hear—it was tires, on a road. Henry had tied her up and tossed her in a trunk. Maybe he’d even switched vehicles so that no one would be able to find them. After all, the police would look for Davis’s rental, so he’d probably ditched it and stolen another ride. And now he had her in the trunk—

  The grinding increased again as he sped up. He had her in the trunk, and he was taking her away. When the car stopped, Jamie knew exactly what would happen.

  He’ll kill me. Maybe not right away, but she knew his endgame. She’d run away from him. He’d told her before that she couldn’t betray him.

  But she had betrayed him. On every level. She’d slipped away from him. She’d made a new life. She’d found someone to love.

  Tears stung her eyes. She did love Davis. She’d never told him. Neither of them had spoken about their feelings. Yet as she lay trapped in that darkness, Jamie knew the truth.

  It was nice to know that truth. Nice to know that, before she died, she’d gotten the chance to see what love was really like.

  It wasn’t twisted. Wasn’t obsessed. It was strong. It was sensual. It made you feel happy when you were with the other person...and, love—love pushed the fear away.

  The vehicle began to slow again. Jamie’s body rolled a bit, but she braced her legs.

  Then...silence. He’d turned off the car’s engine.

  Her bound hands flew around the trunk, looking for some kind of weapon. Something that she could use. Because she didn’t want to die.

  Love did something else, too.

  It made her want to live. Made her want to see Davis, just one more time.

  A million more times.

  But there was nothing in the back for her to use. No jack. No crowbar. Just her.

  A car door slammed. She could hear the thud of footsteps. He was coming for her.

  Jamie twisted her body. Maybe he didn’t realize that she was awake. Maybe he thought the drug would keep her knocked out or weak. Only she didn’t feel weak.