by Rebecca Deel
Brenna searched the area again. No sign of anyone else in the vicinity. Maybe if she ran fast she’d avoid detection. She wished she had donned her sneakers instead of slippers. No traction in slippers and her feet hurt from running and scaling the rails like a gymnast on the balance beam. She adjusted her bag and dashed from the safety of darkness into the vulnerability of light.
Brenna yanked on the door and almost wrenched her arm out of socket. She stared in disbelief. Who locked the laundry room at night? Wasn’t anyone else a night owl besides her and ghost man prowling through Dana’s apartment?
She growled, frustration brewing inside, and raced to the back of the laundry building and ran into a wall of black-clad muscle.
Before Brenna could draw in breath to scream, muscle man clamped a hand over her mouth and shoved her against the brick, further into the shadows. Her head thumped against the wall.
Her muffled scream led to an arm pressed against her throat. Brenna gagged from the pressure. Okay, so screaming wasn’t a good idea. And he had her pinned so tight against the wall with his body, she couldn’t get a leg free to knee him. If she could jerk her knee that high. Good grief, how tall was this guy? Her nose reached the middle of his chest.
“Where is it?”
Brenna froze at the raspy whisper, her gaze scouring the gloom for her captor’s face. Nothing but a shadow, a face surrounded by black hoodie. Who was he? What was he talking about?
“I’m going to lift my hand from your mouth.” He moved his arm from her throat. Enough light from a street light revealed the knife he flipped open and pressed against her jugular. “If you scream again, I will slice open your throat. Do you understand?”
Brenna nodded. Terror poured through her veins. Who was this man and what did he want?
Her captor lifted the pressure from her mouth. When she remained silent except for the small whimper she couldn’t hold back, he nodded. “Very good. You learn fast. A plus in my business. Now, where is it, Miss Mason?”
Heart slamming in her chest, Brenna’s muddled brain processed the fact that this cretin knew her by name. But his voice didn’t sound familiar. Not that she could tell much from a guttural whisper. Guttural? The writer in her came out even in the most horrific circumstances. “What are you talking about?”
The knife pressed against her throat. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve only been in town a few hours.”
Hoodie pressed his body against hers. Brenna’s stomach twisted. What kind of man was aroused by violence? She shuddered. The kind she wanted nothing to do with.
The knife nicked her throat. Brenna flinched as a trail of warmth trickled down her neck. Oh, man. She so did not want to die at the hands of this bozo. Well, she didn’t want to die at anyone’s hands right now, but especially not at this creep’s hands. “Tell me what you want. Maybe I know more than I think.” Maybe she could make it up. She was a fiction writer, after all.
“The recording, Miss Mason.”
“Recording?”
Another knife prick and another stream. “Lay off with the pin cushion routine.”
“Spunk, too.” Hoodie chuckled. “I like that.”
Nausea blossomed in her stomach. The last thing she wanted was to please Hoodie. “Dana has a recording you want? What kind of recording?”
The sound of a high-pitched whine breached the stillness. A gulf cart swung around the corner on the sidewalk. A man in a private security uniform scowled at them. “Hey! Get a room already!”
Hoodie eased away from Brenna but remained in the shadows, knife pressed against the back of her neck. “Sorry, man, got carried away. Can’t keep my hands off my woman.”
His woman? Oh, barf.
“Yeah, well, take it inside, dude. We got kids that live here.”
“Sure. Sorry, buddy.” Hoodie applied pressure to Brenna’s neck with his knife hand, silently ordering her to walk in front of him.
The rent-a-cop remained in the cart, waited for them to leave. Brenna blessed his good sense to hang around and make sure they went inside before resuming any activity. She pressed her lips. Like she would willingly let Hoodie touch her in that manner.
A few feet in front of her loomed that corner she’d careened around earlier. What if she sped up a little? Maybe she could put enough distance between her and Hoodie to escape. He couldn’t do much with Rent-a-cop as an eyewitness.
Brenna’s legs resembled warm rubber with a measure of weakness thrown in the mix. She stumbled and let the momentum put more space between herself and Hoodie. Clearing the corner, she dashed across the walkway and the parking lot. A pair of headlights appeared in the distance.
Brenna changed direction and headed for the approaching lights. Whoever drove the vehicle with those headlights was about to get a real shock because she meant to get some help, even if she had to carjack some innocent person to do it. She gritted her teeth and poured on as much speed as her Isotoners would let her. Behind her, heavier steps pounded on the pavement in pursuit.
A quick glance over her shoulder. Hoodie’s face remained hidden in the shadows of his garment, but anger almost shimmered from his every stride.
She sped across the grassy median and dashed toward the tree line beside the road. The car slowed to a crawl. No! She didn’t want it to slow down. Brenna zigzagged closer to the approaching vehicle, leaped over flower beds and activated sprinklers. Cold water splattered her clothes and made them feel clammy on her skin. Oh, man. White pajamas and water? Yeah, she was going to die of embarrassment unless Hoodie killed her first.
Vile curses rang in her ears. Gasping for breath and vowing to join a gym if she survived this night, Brenna plunged through the stand of trees. Leaf-laden limbs smacked face and body in her mad dash for safety. Not daring to peek over her shoulder again for fear of running headlong into a tree, Brenna focused on the headlights so close yet still out of reach.
Relentless footsteps and the hair standing up on her neck clued her in to the fact that Hoodie was closing in on her. A hand grasped her shoulder. Brenna twisted away and lunged through the edge of the trees and into the street.
Headlights blinded her. Tires squealed. Brenna careened into something hard, slid to the pavement. Blackness engulfed her.
CHAPTER SIX
“I didn’t see her until it was too late.” The patrolman ran a shaking hand through his close-cut blond hair. “She flew out of those trees like the hounds of hell were after her. I didn’t hit her, sir. I swear. She hit me, or rather my car, and fell to the ground.”
Detective Cal Taylor swiveled and scanned the trees coming into view with the predawn light. “Has anyone figured out what or who was chasing her?”
“No, sir. I called for the EMTs and rendered aid until they arrived. The ambulance left a couple of minutes ago.”
Cal faced the patrolman again and glanced at his name tag. “Officer Knight, were you able to identify our vic?”
He produced a small notebook. “She’s not from around here. Her name is Brenna Mason.”
Cal stilled. “Brenna Mason. Where is she from?”
Another consultation of the notebook. “Pound, Virginia.”
The detective pulled out his cell phone. “Which hospital?”
“Vanderbilt.” Knight closed his notebook. “Do you know this woman, sir?”
“I talked to her yesterday afternoon. She’s a client of a local private investigator.” One PI who would be very upset when he called about this incident. Cal walked a few feet away from the patrolman and put through his call.
“Did you retrieve the recording?”
He shoved back the hoodie and squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the phone tighter. “Not yet.”
“The sister doesn’t have it?” Disbelief rang in the tones.
“She didn’t know what I was talking about. I attempted to interrogate her, but was interrupted by a security guard at the complex.”
“And you let that stop y
ou?”
The icy words sent a spear of uneasiness into his gut. “A body or a missing man would lead to more investigation. I didn’t think you wanted more attention brought to anyone connected to the woman.”
“I don’t pay you to think. I pay you for results which I did not receive. I want that recording, Liam. No more failures or your family will pay the price.”
Liam closed the phone, muttered curses under his breath at the cause of all his problems. Dana Cole and her stepsister, Brenna Mason. He had a good job, one that supported his mama and papa in their old age, made them comfortable for the first time in their lives. They didn’t have to worry now about where the next bite of food came from.
He pressed harder on the gas pedal and the dark SUV leapt forward on Interstate 24. Nothing could interfere with his responsibilities. He was an only child and it was his obligation and privilege to care for his parents.
Liam’s jaw clenched. He would find that recording no matter what it took or who he had to hurt.
Eli’s hand fumbled around on the nightstand for the ringing phone. He grabbed it on the fourth ring and, without opening his eyes, answered the bell-toned summons. “Wolfe.”
“Wakey, wakey, sleeping beauty.”
He groaned and rolled over. “Taylor, this better be good. You woke me from a dream featuring a gorgeous woman, one who actually agreed to go out on a date with me. I want to go back to sleep and see how it turns out.” For once, his dreams were pleasant, a rarity these days.
“Forget it. Get down to Vanderbilt Medical Center’s emergency room.”
Eli sat up, the heavy fog of sleep dissipating in a flash. “Why? What’s wrong?” Was it his mom or dad? His sisters? Jon?
“Brenna Mason.”
Eli tucked the phone between his shoulder and ear and rolled out of bed. “What happened? Is she all right?” He yanked on a pair of jeans lying close by.
“Don’t know much at this point except that she ran into one of our prowl cars a few minutes ago.”
He paused while pulling on a sock. “She doesn’t have a car. You telling me she stole one and plowed into a marked cop car?” That didn’t make any sense. From what he could tell, Brenna didn’t have much money, but he supposed she could have gotten Enterprise to bring her a car for a few days without too much money if she rented a compact.
“She literally ran into the car. Someone or something pursued her through the parking lot into the woods. According to the patrolman, she ran out of the woods right beside his car. She plowed into the driver’s side and hit the ground.”
Eli punched the speakerphone and set down his cell. “Injuries?” He jerked open his closet and tugged on a shirt.
Cal’s voice sounded tinny over the speaker. “No word yet. Thought you might like to know.” He paused. “You have information I need to know about, Eli?”
“Nope, but give me a few hours.”
“I’ll hold you to that. See you at Vanderbilt.”
Eli ended the call, jammed his feet in a pair of running shoes and grabbed his gun and jacket. Racing down the hall, he hit the speed dial on his cell phone.
“What?”
Eli’s mouth twitched. His partner wasn’t known for his friendly disposition. “Did Sartelli leave his house any time during the night?”
“No. Why?”
“Cal called. Brenna’s at Vanderbilt.”
“What happened?”
“Sounds like someone was after her, but I don’t know yet. Cal didn’t have much information to give me.”
“What do you want me to do? Stay on Sartelli or join you at Vandy?”
“Vandy.” Eli slammed the car door and cranked the engine. The Camaro’s tires squealed as he peeled out into the street. “I want someone I trust on Brenna’s door if they keep her in the hospital or a pair of friendly eyes on my back on the drive home. This has to have something to do with Dana’s disappearance.”
“Thirty minutes.” Jon hung up.
Twenty minutes later, Eli strode into the Medical Center’s emergency room waiting area and zeroed in on the nurse behind the desk. “Brenna Mason. Where is she?”
“Are you a family member?”
He opened his mouth, determined to get in that room with Brenna, when a detective’s badge slid onto the counter beside Eli. “Metro police. We need to see Miss Mason.”
The nurse examined the badge and stood. “I’ll check with her attending physician. If he says it’s all right, I’ll take you back.”
Eli barely restrained himself from following her through the door. He eyed Cal. “You look wasted, man. Did you sleep last night?”
A wry smile curved the detective’s lips. “Between the nightmares and this roll out, not much.”
A wave of sympathy surged through Eli. He’d lost count of how many hours he spent watching infomercials or some old John Wayne flicks. His sisters added to his collection of westerns every few months. He hit the mother lode of westerns on his birthday and Christmas each year. You had to love movies where the good and bad guys were obvious. Unlike real life.
The nurse returned. “This way, officers. The doctor is waiting for you outside room 4.”
Without bothering to correct her mistaken assumption he was a cop, Eli hurried past hustling medical personnel, hunting for room 4. He spotted the door sign and the doctor at the end of the hall.
The physician held out his hand. “Officers, I’m Wayne Thomas, Miss Mason’s physician.”
Eli gripped his hand. “How is she?”
“Doing very well, actually. A few bruises and scrapes. Nothing serious, considering she collided with a car.” He smiled. “A very lucky young woman, I’d say.”
“We need to talk to her, Dr. Thomas,” Cal said.
“I don’t see a problem with that. We’ll be releasing her in a few minutes. Why don’t you go in and talk to her while the nurses finish processing the paperwork.” He paused. “Is someone waiting for her? She’s pretty shaken up.”
Heat flooded Eli’s cheeks. “I’ll take care of her,” he said. He’d look after her better than he had last night. He should have camped out in the apartment or at least stayed outside her building to keep watch over her.
He pushed through the doorway. Inside the room, Brenna rested on an upraised bed. He noted the white bandages on her neck and scrapes down her left arm.
Her eyes widened at the sight of him in the doorway. “Eli. How did you know I was here? I didn’t have a number to give the nurse so she could contact you.”
“I’ll take care of that oversight as soon as the doctor releases you.” Eli nodded at Cal. “This is Cal Taylor, the detective you talked to yesterday afternoon. He answered the call on your accident and recognized your name. He called me.” Eli crossed the room and sat in the chair beside her bed. “How are you?”
Her lower lip trembled for a second. “I won’t be running races anytime soon. And by the way, in case you ever want to know, Isotoner slippers are not good running gear.”
Cal stepped up beside Eli. “What happened tonight, Miss Mason? Start at the beginning.” He pulled out a notebook and pen.
“I had dinner with Eli and he dropped me off at Dana’s apartment around 11:00 o’clock. I did some preliminary work on my next book and turned out the light about 2:00 o’clock, but couldn’t sleep. An hour later, I heard the floor creak in the hallway and realized someone was in the apartment with me.”
Eli’s hands fisted. He should have stayed with her or made her stay at his place, but he hadn’t thought anyone was interested in Brenna. Another oversight which he would remedy as soon as the hospital released her.
“What did you do?” Cal asked.
“When he went into Dana’s room to search, I closed and locked my bedroom door and escaped by way of the balcony.”
“It was a man?” Eli asked.
Brenna paused. “I’m not sure, but I think so.”
“Okay. We’ll come back to that. What happened next?”
“I ran t
o the laundry room.” She shrugged. “I figured somebody would be doing laundry at all hours of the night, but the door was locked. My white pajamas stand out so I couldn’t stay under the light. I ran around the back of the building, hoping to find a safe place to call the police. I ran right into a guy with a knife. I’m not positive, but I think it was the same man slinking around Dana’s place.”
Eli’s lips twitched despite the dismay swelling in his gut at her close encounter with a knife. Slinking?
“Can you identify him, Miss Mason?”
Brenna shook her head. “He wore all black, including a hoodie. I never saw his face. I’ll tell you this, though. This guy is a skyscraper. I’m 5 foot 10 inches, and my nose hit the middle of his chest.”
Cal’s brows arched. “Interesting. What did he want from you?”
“A recording. He believed I knew about some digital recording that Dana must have.” Her hand moved to the bandages on her throat. “And he wasn’t happy with my answers, Detective Taylor.”
Eli forced his hand to remain by his side. “He cut you?”
“Nicks.” A wry smile curved her lips. “To make his point. Trust me, he was quite successful. That knife was very sharp.”
“Do you know what recording he’s talking about?” Cal asked. “Did Dana mention anything to you when you talked to her the last time?”
“Something about doing a favor for a friend and it involved her boss.”
Eli’s gut twisted. A favor for a friend. Did Dana mean what he’d asked her to do? But it didn’t involve recording Sartelli. Could Dana have taken this farther than he had asked her to? If she did and Sartelli caught her, what did she capture on digital recording that lead to her disappearance? Maybe something he could use to nail Sartellli’s miserable hide to the wall. He didn’t want it bad enough to endanger a friend.
“A favor for a friend?” Cal’s eyes narrowed. “Did she say who the favor was for?”
Brenna shook her head.
“It was for me.”
Brenna’s head jerked around. She stared at Eli, her eyes wide. “You? What was she doing for you? Why didn’t you tell me this before?”