“Okay, sure. You don’t know me; it was rude to ask. I apologize.”
“Don’t. I opened the door.” And promptly closed it.
“Tell me one thing.”
He tensed.
“The person who did it, was he caught? Prosecuted?”
Alec waited for a long moment before lifting his eyes to meet her inquisitive stare. Finally he answered, “She’s incarcerated, awaiting trial down in Georgia.”
Sam processed the sex of his assailant with a quick flare of the eyes and a brief clench of her mouth. Otherwise, she didn’t react in any way. But he could almost see the churning of those wheels in her brain and knew exactly where that imagination-and bruised-divorcée spirit-had taken her. Hearing a woman had tried to murder him, his admission that he’d gotten too close to a witness… well, she had undoubtedly painted quite a picture in her mind with that small palette of colors. She wouldn’t be the first.
He almost spat out the truth, not wanting those kinds of speculations influencing her opinion of him. The idea that she thought he was that kind of agent, that kind of man, ripped at his guts. But he kept his mouth shut. His lapse in judgment-not seeing the kindly looking mother of the killer he’d been after for the dangerous, murderous bitch she was-had been the greatest mistake of his life.
Jesus, I’m sorry, Ferguson. Sorrier than I can ever say.
His sympathy toward a frightened mom, who seemed to want her son captured so no one else would get hurt, had led him to believe her when she’d said she had no idea where their suspect was. Not to mention neglect to check her for weapons of her own.
She’d been lying. And when they’d moved to stop her son from escaping through a back window, she’d opened fire.
He had learned his lesson about letting his guard down around witnesses. Learned it the hard way. Judging by how Sam had devoured him with her eyes five minutes ago, it was on the verge of happening again.
So Alec remained silent.
Sam looked way from him and leaned forward in her chair. Dropping her elbows onto the table, she lowered her face onto her hands, cupping her forehead and rubbing at her temples with her thumbs, visibly exhausted and disheartened.
“Okay, this isn’t getting us anywhere,” he said, making a sudden decision. “It doesn’t mean we’re giving up. Our guy could just be cautious, suspicious about being directly engaged. He might have only the dead of night to ride around and do his thing, and nobody expects you to sit here until three a.m.”
She lifted her head, appearing hopeful. “You think he might still show up?”
“It’s possible. We’ve had a long day. Let’s go check in with Brandon, see if he’s finished with your hard drive, and work on getting you home sometime before tomorrow.”
“You’ll take me home?” she asked, her brow rising in surprise. “Really? I can go?”
In those moments when Sam had created scenarios in her mind about his shooting, probably deciding he was at the very least unprofessional, or worse, a womanizer, he suspected she’d built a mental wall of her own. One that reminded her she was a graduate of the School of All Men Suck, if he remembered her nightshirt correctly. Now, though, the wall was down and she sounded relieved and appreciative.
“Yeah. I’ll get you home.” He rose from the chair, touching the back of hers to pull it out so she could stand, too. “Swear to me you won’t do anything if he responds tonight. No more angry blog entries, no acknowledgment whatsoever without my go-ahead.”
“I won’t.”
“I’ve got to have your promise on this,” he said, knowing he sounded fierce, but needing to make sure she knew how serious he was. He stepped closer, blocking her exit, crowding her against the table. The subtle intimidation was intentional, meant to ensure her cooperation.
It also, he suddenly realized, probably revealed his frustration that she’d so quickly assumed the worst about him. And the second he acknowledged that about himself, he stepped back and thrust a hand through his hair. “Sorry.”
“You have my word,” she said, not moving, though he’d cleared the path to the door. “No matter what happens tonight, I won’t do a thing without talking to you first.”
8
Wendy Cramer did not own a car.
She didn’t like driving in the city and lived within a few blocks of the answering service office where she worked, so there had never been a need for her own vehicle. But tonight, as she rode toward the man of her dreams, she couldn’t help thinking it wasn’t much of a way to enter her new life. Stepping off a smelly city bus coated with dirt and road salt would almost ruin all the efforts she’d gone through to prepare for this eventual night.
“Not eventual anymore,” she whispered, still shocked her love had begged her to meet him tonight. “It’s finally here.”
He had to go away, he’d said, and wanted to make sure she’d be waiting for him. He must know there was no chance she wouldn’t; she had made her devotion clear. As had he.
She’d had to wonder if the impassioned invitation had been about something else. Perhaps a way to get her to come to him so he could make love to her before he went away?
She quivered at the thought. Her body, untouched by any man for so many years, ached, and she allowed images of the passionate kisses he would offer her to fill her mind. She felt like one of the heroines of the romance books she received in the mail every month.
Lost in the fantasy, Wendy almost missed her stop. She noticed the sign as the driver was about to pull away from her final destination. Leaping to her feet, she cried, “Wait!”
The others on the uncrowded bus watched her progress down the center aisle. With her newly colored and freshly cut hair, more makeup than she ever wore, and a new dress, she didn’t mind the stares. She needed to get used to them, didn’t she? If-when-Rafe was restored to his position, whatever that was, she would probably be in the public eye. Doing charitable works and whatnot, like Princess Di, who had been her favorite royal.
Getting off at the stop, she watched the bus chug away with a belch of inky black smoke that snaked into the cold air before dissipating. When alone, she quickly looked around. She had never come to this part of the city at night. On the south side of the harbor, this was an industrial zone, crowded with shipping companies and docks servicing the big freighters. Nothing at all like the trendy Harbor Place side, which she could see across the water. Lights from the stores and restaurants brightened the sky. A whole world of people likely bustled about inside.
Unlike here, where she was completely alone, not another soul in sight.
Trepidation crawled through her. Where was Rafe? Surely he wouldn’t leave her alone in such a deserted place, at the mercy of anyone who happened by? He was too gentlemanly.
She glanced at her watch. Eight fifty-five. You’re a few minutes early. Don’t panic. But something made her pull her cell phone out of her purse and keep it in her hand.
As the minutes ticked by, her nervousness rose. She noted the hiding places around each corner and the way the long shadows of the monstrously tall buildings darkened the moon-brightened landscape. The ships docked nearby appeared almost ghostly. The current slapped wetly against them, sounding like the thwack of an angry hand against flesh.
“Where are you?” she whispered.
Suddenly, the phone rang, the name Smith appearing on the caller ID. Hoping he was using a false identity, she answered, “Rafe?”
“Darling, I’m so sorry I’ve kept you waiting.”
His voice. At last. So warm and deep and masculine. She wanted to cry from relief, not only because he hadn’t stood her up, but also because he was real. Though she had never permitted herself to dwell on it, the awful possibility that someone had been playing a cruel joke on her had flashed through her mind once or twice.
It wasn’t true. Her faith hadn’t been misplaced.
“Where are you? I’m afraid. I’ve been out here all alone.”
“I know, I know.”
She sniffed, then frowned. “What do you mean? How could you know?”
“I’m so sorry. I saw you arrive. I wanted everything to be perfect, so I didn’t come down right away.”
Down?
“I kept you waiting; how rude of me, not thinking of your discomfort.”
Not understanding, she asked, “Where are you?”
“Step out of the shelter and look up.”
Still confused, she did as he asked, not sure what she was looking for. The high-rises around her were closed and deserted. But a few random lights piercing the darkness hinted at late-working employees. Was he among them?
“Turn and walk to the north side of the awning. See the building directly in front of you?”
The building directly in front of her wasn’t a building at all. It was a construction site. A midrise only half completed, it stood skeletal against the night sky-bare, raw, and imposing, a shell made of metal beams, wood planking, and rough cement.
Then she saw it: a glimmer of illumination on the highest level. She tilted her head all the way back, narrowing her eyes, craning for a better look. As the light moved, she tried to make out the shape of the person holding it. It was, however, far too high, and too dark. “Oh, Rafe, is that you all the way up there?”
“It is, Wendy. I’m watching you with a pair of binoculars.”
She bit her lip in sheer nervousness. He had gotten a good look at her before she’d even known he was there.
“This is my surprise.”
“But you’re trespassing!”
“No, this is my building, condominiums and office suites, an investment to keep me in comfort for many years. And here on the top floor will be my penthouse, my home.”
Oh, goodness. She had known he had wealth, but she had thought most of it was hidden for his protection. “Has something happened? Can you come out of hiding?”
“Yes, how quick you are. All is well and the world is perfect, especially from up here. Will you forgive my deception for saying I was going away? I wanted you to come, right away, to share this night with me. But I didn’t want to spoil the surprise.”
Surprise. She almost gasped, understanding washing over her. Was he saying he wanted to show her his under-construction home because he wanted her to share it? Good Lord, had she come here tonight for a marriage proposal?
“Be careful, but do hurry. Cross the street; go through the gate, which is open. Proceed to the elevator on the east side of the building. You won’t miss it-I’ve left a light on for you.”
She hesitated, the hint of nervousness returning. She had no fear of Rafe; the man loved her. But she had to admit the prospect of going up into the dizzying heights of that frail-looking, half-built structure frightened her. “Is it safe?”
“Oh, sweet, of course it is safe. I wouldn’t put you in danger. I would come down to meet you but I am not quite ready; I want everything just right. But I’ll be there to carry you over the threshold when you arrive at the top.”
Carry her over the threshold. She felt like swooning.
Despite the cold night breeze blowing across her body and chilling her hose-covered legs, she felt his warmth as he added, “I have something very special for you.”
A ring? Her whole body tingled with excitement. “All right. I’m on my way.”
“I-and your future-await.”
The connection ended, and she hugged the phone to her chest, so grateful, so filled with anticipation she could hardly stand it. Tonight would bring everything she’d ever dreamed of. Her perfect future with her perfect man.
Tugging her coat tightly around her as protection from the wind, which had picked up and whipped over the choppy water, she hurried across the street. The light of the bus shelter didn’t extend far, and his from above certainly didn’t either, but she easily found the gate. As he’d promised, it was unlocked. Beyond it, safety reflectors shone a path through the construction zone.
Entering, she got only a few steps before a shrill noise assaulted her ears, the screech making her jerk to a halt. She remained still for a moment, her heart thudding against her ribs. But she quickly realized it was the winter wind, gustily whistling into the openings of the structure, rushing through to burst forth from the other side. Stop jumping at shadows.
She laughed at herself. The noise had been startling, even eerie. But certainly not supernatural, and nothing to be frightened of. Though she did wish the air had remained calm. As strong as the gusts were down here, they had to be much worse high above.
“He wouldn’t bring you up there if they were,” she whispered.
She proceeded carefully, alone and nearly blind in a world of bare steel and hard concrete. Nails strewn on the ground, sharp scraps of metal with jagged edges, piles of debris and broken drywall, heavy equipment to maneuver past. She walked a gauntlet of construction material, constantly reminding herself the price was worth it for the payoff coming after it.
When she saw the cagelike elevator, she picked up her pace, the glow from within beckoning like a lighthouse from a rocky shore. She breathed a deep sigh of relief the moment she stepped inside, even though it was one of those open-construction types, like none she’d ever ridden in before, not exactly the picture of safety.
And then she laughed. “You charmer.” Because the light he’d mentioned was provided by two tall candles in glass holders. Despite the wind drifting through the grating and making the flames dance, they remained lit, casting soft illumination and banishing the shadows. What a romantic gesture.
It wasn’t the only one. Wendy stared down at the floor, watching thin streams of red wax drip down the candles to land on the bouquet of red roses lying at their base. No one had ever given her roses.
“You’re wonderful,” she whispered. And when she saw the fluffy stuffed teddy bear beside the flowers, tears of joy spilled onto her cheeks.
She wanted to hurry, but wasn’t entirely sure how to operate the elevator. Fortunately, he seemed to have anticipated that. Taped to the handle was a handwritten note with instructions. At the bottom of it, in a postscript, he had written, Please enjoy a glass of champagne before you begin this journey up to my world. I already have one and will be drinking to you the moment I hear the elevator start to ascend. We will toast to our lives together on your arrival.
Had there ever been a more romantic man?
Wendy quickly looked around. She hadn’t even noticed the open champagne bottle, wrapped in a towel, standing in an ice bucket. It had been nearly hidden by the flowers, which had taken up all her attention. Behind it was a tapered glass.
Though not much of a drinker, she wouldn’t refuse the offer. Not only so she could toast to him, but also because she needed to calm her nerves. So she poured. And she sipped. She had never liked champagne, and she liked this dry, bitter stuff even less. Still, she drank again, swallowing until she’d downed the glass, feeling the bubbles tickle her nose and the effervescent alcohol hit her stomach.
Feeling fortified, she closed the grated door with a clang of metal, screwed her courage tight, and followed Rafe’s operating instructions. Nothing happened at first; then the steel enclosure finally creaked to life. With a grinding of gears, the elevator began to move.
Funny, the world already seemed to be lighter, somehow. As she slowly began to rise, she began to feel light, weightless. As if she were floating. Which was as it should be. She was being released from the darkness of her dreary, average life. Unencumbered, free.
Up she went. Higher. Toward the heavens. And toward her destiny.
Almost as if she were flying.
His little bird was unconscious before she reached the fifteenth floor.
Wanting to ensure Wendy Cramer’s arrival would go exactly the way he’d planned it, Darwin had watched her every move from the nanny-cam teddy bear he’d left for her. So he witnessed the precise moment of the woman’s collapse. Perfect timing.
So far, she had not disappointed him, reacting exactly as he’d expected her
to. From her accepting his urgent invitation, to her nervousness building as he kept her waiting, to her downing a glass of champagne to combat her fear, everything had gone as planned.
“You are so shockingly predictable,” he said when the elevator finally came to a stop on his level. She might have thought she’d started its ascent, using his directions, but she hadn’t. Wanting to delay her after she’d consumed the champagne, to give the ketamine a few extra moments to do its job, he had lied in the note, and used the landing call station on this level to get the elevator moving. “You had so many chances to avoid this fate and squandered them all.”
She could have refused to come, of course. Only an utter fool would believe the nonsense he’d been spoon-feeding her for weeks. A member of an anonymous royal family in hiding? A prince falling passionately in love with a timid operator he’d never even seen? God, it was a wonder the idiotic woman had survived to adulthood.
“How foolish you were to not even question the name on the phone.” He’d intentionally called her with that telephone, for a number of reasons. Not least of which was to give her another chance to defy his opinion of her, develop some modicum of good sense, and back away.
She’d blazed forward instead. Despite the name. Despite the sound of his voice-not an accented word. Right past a sign identifying the under-construction building as the new headquarters for a major local shipping company.
No penthouse. No condos. No royal investment.
“And any teenage girl knows better than to drink from an unattended bottle someone else opened. You stupid, awful woman. Didn’t you notice the taste?”
She moaned. Though he had allowed adequate time, he moved quickly. The drug was very fast-acting, but he hadn’t wanted her out for long. And despite the bitter taste, he hadn’t been sure the twit would drink only one glass, so he couldn’t lace the champagne too heavily.
Good thing he had expected her to fib about her weight. He’d dosed her for a woman twenty pounds heavier than she portrayed herself to be. By his calculations, one glass would keep her down for about an hour.
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