Love in Hiding

by Diane Holiday

  Her head ached. Maybe she could fake him out. She pretended to dial 911. “I’m calling the police.”

  “Finally. You’re talking to me. I’ve waited so long to hear your voice again—”

  “Hello? I need help. A man broke into my apartment, and he’s threatening me.” She prayed he’d believe the act.

  “Why are you calling the cops? You know I’m much smarter than they are. I can hack into any system. In less than five seconds, I flushed out their pitiful attempt to lure me to that fake meeting with you last month. And the alarm here? A joke. I’m the only one who can keep you safe.”

  His shadow under the door disappeared. More sounds of destruction came from the other room.

  As a dancer, she had strength and agility on her side. But small in stature, she’d have a tough time overpowering a grown man, even with what she’d learned from her self-defense classes. She needed a weapon.

  She yanked open the top drawer of the vanity and rifled through the contents. A hairbrush, scrunchies, and a pack of bobby pins. Her gaze traveled to the hand mirror on the counter. She seized the handle and smashed the face against the sink. Glass shot through the air and landed around her bare feet.

  Shit.

  She grabbed a towel to pick up a jagged piece.

  The man returned and spoke in a calmer voice. “No one understands me but you. I’m the one you love. Only me. Remember that. You don’t want to end up like Audrey.”

  Sarah’s mouth went dry. Whatever had happened to Audrey, whoever she was, didn’t sound good. Sarah had to scare him into leaving. “The cops are on their way.”

  “I’m disappointed that you called them. I’m going, but don’t forget, I have eyes everywhere. Someone is always watching you.”

  Bile rose in her throat and she gagged. Had he found other people to spy on her too?

  “This is my last warning. Accept our love, or you’ll face the consequences. If I can’t have you, no one will.”

  Her knees buckled. The lunatic meant to kill her. He’d taken his obsession to a whole new level.

  The bedroom fell quiet. Maybe he’d left. She waited several agonizing minutes. Sweat poured down her forehead into her eyes. She took a deep breath, held the shard up, and eased the door open a few inches.

  The man’s hand snaked in and grabbed the edge of the door.

  She had gasped and thrown her shoulder against it to trap his forearm, slashing him with the piece of broken mirror from his wrist to his index finger. Her stomach had roiled as she pressed deep and hit bone.

  Someone touched her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  Sarah opened her eyes and blinked at the blurry bookshelves in front of her. When they came back into focus, she glanced around at the people staring at her from their tables. Her chest ached and sweat chilled her numb body. She had to get out of the public library before she made more of a scene and drew attention. Someone might remember her.

  “You look confused. Do you need assistance?” The librarian gently patted Sarah’s shoulder.

  “N-no. I’m okay.”

  “Are you sure?”

  God, she couldn’t breathe, let alone talk. With a nod, she shoved to her feet, grabbed her purse, and hurried to the exit. As soon as she was outside, she stumbled to the truck. She climbed in and put a hand on her ribs.

  Her lungs screamed for air.

  White spots appeared before her eyes.

  Until her vision cleared, she couldn’t drive anywhere. She forced herself to take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. The pins of light faded. She repeated it three times, and the crazy pounding in her chest subsided. Leaning her head back against the rest, she swallowed and waited for her body to settle down.

  She started the engine and drove back to the farm, praying she wouldn’t run into anyone right away. Her nightmare hadn’t ended with her disappearance. Now that he hunted her, she had to figure out a way to stay alive.

  Chapter 8

  Sarah stirred a sizzling skillet of onions and ground turkey. Her second batch after burning the first. Two hours had done nothing to calm her fried nerves. She needed to get the meal ready and go back to her suite to think.

  “Something smells good,” Joe said as he entered with Debbie.

  Sarah glanced up. She fought to make her voice sound normal. “It’s tacos tonight. I’ll make something fancier when I have more time to plan a menu.”

  Debbie moved to the sink, turned the water on, then squirted soap into her hands. “You won’t hear us complaining.”

  “I put your change there.” Sarah pointed the spatula across the room to the cabinet with the recipe books. She tossed a hot pad onto the counter for the skillet. “Everything’s ready. I’ll come back in a bit to clean up.”

  “Aren’t you gonna eat?” Debbie frowned.

  “Not yet.” With her stomach in a tight ball, if she ate, she’d throw up. She hurried to her suite and closed the door behind her. Taking a deep breath, she picked up a bag from the coffee table and pulled out a pair of blackout curtains. The thrift store owner had let her trade a pair of sunglasses for them. Sarah never expected to have to barter her personal belongings. But she’d do what she needed.

  She stood on the couch to take down the rod. Bright gold locks shined in the sun. Joe must have replaced them while she was gone. God bless him. She put up the new drapes. They should keep peeping Todd’s out.

  She stepped to the wall and flicked on the lights. At least now, she wouldn’t have to trip through the room in the dark. Funny how the smallest things took on new meaning. Stuff normal people never thought twice about.

  Satisfied, she sat on the couch and shut her eyes. When she opened them, an hour had passed. The kitchen still needed cleaning, and that was her job. She jumped up, raced to the steps, and flung the door open to find Bruce seated at the table eating a taco. Next to him, Joe held a steaming mug. Both men looked over.

  “I didn’t think to make coffee. I’m sorry,” she said.

  Bruce’s gaze darted to Joe, who gave a slight nod, like an I-told-you-so look, and took a sip before standing. “Dinner was good. We can brew our own. Always have. See you tomorrow.”

  He shrugged on a light jacket and went out the front door.

  Left alone with Bruce, but still freaked out from the crazy email, for once her hormones weren’t raging over him. “Did everyone get to eat? Morgan, the girls?”

  She scanned the fields outside the window as she grabbed a dirty bowl. The quicker she cleaned up, the sooner she could return to her suite. Away from all eyes. Her body ached, her mind had turned to mush, and she needed to wake up early to make breakfast. With the new lock on her bedroom window, maybe she would sleep better.

  “Morgan?” Bruce’s eyebrows raised.

  “Yes. Doesn’t she eat here?” Sarah faced him. Couples ate together.

  “No.” He stood. “Why would she?”

  “I don’t know. Debbie said she never knows who’s showing up for dinner.” Sarah picked up some clear wrap and ripped off a piece.

  Bruce crossed the kitchen. “I’m not done eating, and Debbie said you didn’t have dinner. You’re going to need food to keep up the pace.”

  So she’d become the topic of conversation. While that was annoying, at the same time, they were looking out for her. People must be more trusting in the country. She could have run off with all Debbie’s money and the truck. Sarah glanced at the taco fixings, and her stomach rumbled, but she wouldn’t be able to handle the grease.

  Bruce went to the refrigerator and pulled out a container. He seemed to know his way around the kitchen.

  “Try this leftover chicken soup.” He placed it on the counter and returned to the table.

  She glanced at the plastic tub. This was exactly what she needed. After heating the soup, she sat across from him. She blew on a spoon before putting it in her mouth. Eat. Sleep. Wake up, and survive another day. That’s what she had to do right now.

  Bruce took a bite of his taco. “These
are good.”

  “Nothing special.”

  He shrugged. “Debbie has one thing she can make. Chicken soup and biscuits from a can. Trust me, anything else is fancy.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “She runs a horse farm. No time for cooking. Whatever you make will be better.”

  Sarah couldn’t focus on small talk with the stalker’s email replaying in her mind. He’d mentioned his source, so multiple people were searching for her. She tried to spoon up more broth, but her hand shook.

  “What happened in town today?” Bruce asked in a low voice.

  She glanced up. He wore a frown and stared pointedly at her shaking spoon. Crap. She shouldn’t have sat with him. He observed too much. Although, to be fair, she probably looked like hell, and she sucked at hiding her emotions.

  “I got groceries.” She stirred the soup and waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. The silence put her more on edge. Maybe she could change the subject. “So what’s the story with Debbie and Joe? Are they together? I don’t want to say the wrong thing.”

  “Yes, but they keep separate places and stay at each other’s once in a while.”

  “I see.” She pushed the bowl aside and tried to stand, but he shot a hand across the table and pulled her arm down.

  “Are you going to answer my question?”

  His gaze bored into hers, demanding a response.

  “I did. Please, let it go.” She bit her lower lip and held her breath, certain he’d press the issue from the determined look on his face.

  Instead, he gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “Breathe.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, like she had before in the truck. The skin on her arm tingled under the warmth of his hand.

  “Take another one.”

  As she did, a calmness settled in, but it didn’t last. Bruce touching her. That spelled trouble. She had no room for the feelings he evoked in her.

  “I better get this kitchen cleaned up.” She stood.

  Bruce grabbed his plate and rose. She picked up a serving platter from the counter, avoiding eye contact. He’d seen through her enough for one night. He carried his plate to the sink, rinsed, and put it in the dishwasher.

  “Sarah.”

  She swung around.

  “You’re a terrible liar,” he said.

  She shifted from one foot to the other. So she’d been told. He stood planted in front of her.

  “I can’t force you to tell me what’s going on, but you’re not fooling anyone.”

  A weight dragged down her lungs. If only she could.

  “When you’re ready”—he took a step back—“talk to me.”

  She picked at the hem of her shirt as he headed to the door. Maybe it would be better if someone else did know. He could keep an eye out. But she’d have to trust him not to tell anyone else.

  As Bruce pushed open the door, Sarah called, “Wait.”

  Chapter 9

  Her eyes gave away the inner battle. Bruce’s training in body language came in handy. The quick blinks and the way she tugged on her shirt indicated uncertainty and nervousness. She opened her mouth, only to shut it again.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I’m…not sure what time you get here in the morning, but breakfast will be ready at six.” She crossed her arms and rubbed them.

  Shit.

  He’d been sure she was about to open up, but she’d chickened out just as fast. His spirits fell. He couldn’t help her if she wouldn’t tell him what was going on. Then again, he hadn’t exactly made himself approachable. Whatever scared her had to be major because the fiercely independent woman he’d worked around all day had gone down the rabbit hole.

  “That’s not what you were going to say, and we both know it.” He shook his head. Couldn’t force her to talk. “I don’t get here that early. See you later.”

  He made his way to his truck, resisting the urge to go back and try again. As he drove, he couldn’t erase the haunting image of Sarah’s face when she’d burst into the kitchen. Something must have terrified her in town. She’d even walked differently after she returned. Her graceful movements had turned stiff and tense.

  Could be an ex-boyfriend. Anger at whoever caused her to live in fear made his blood stew. She complicated his life by making the horses skittish and possibly bringing a threat to the farm, yet he wanted to dig deeper and find out more about her. The exact opposite of what he should do if he intended to keep everyone at the ranch safe. She had grit and guts, and she cared for people, but she didn’t belong there.

  Growing up, he’d been the one that people always turned to for help. He’d spent five years of his life fighting for people’s freedom. But no war or tactical plan could keep everyone safe. And he had no idea what had spooked her. He couldn’t help unless she opened up.

  He slowed to allow a car to pass him. Scared as she was, she would no doubt run away soon. If he let her get too close, he’d be left with another gaping hole in his heart. No way. Not again. He’d do what he could to keep an eye out for her while at the farm. Beyond that, his hands were tied. He stopped for a red light and set his jaw.

  Better to keep his distance.

  Sarah yawned, flipped on the lights, and threw on some clothes. She’d made sure all the ingredients for the morning meal were in her suite refrigerator and the proper cookware on the counter. Today’s breakfast consisted of banana pancakes, scrambled eggs, and a cheesy hash brown bake. True to her word, at six o’clock she had the food on the counter, plates and utensils out, and coffee brewed. Hard as it was, she had to act like nothing worried her and put on a happy face. She couldn’t let her nerves show. She’d failed horribly at it yesterday. Today had to go better.

  Debbie strode into the kitchen and stopped short. “Oh, I forgot about this.”

  A second later, Joe and Greg came in from the mudroom. Warmth spread through Sarah. They’d shown up. “Help yourselves. It’s all ready.”

  Greg’s eyes widened, and he licked his lips.

  “Leave some for us,” Joe said, making his way to the coffee machine.

  Greg dragged his gaze from the food to Sarah, his face flushing.

  The front door opened, and Bruce marched in. He must have changed his mind about coming. As usual, a shiver ran through her body at the sight of him. Damp hair, shirt snug against his pecs, she couldn’t help but stare. Her stomach flip-flopped.

  He raked a hand through his hair and turned to Joe, who stood by the coffee maker. “Your text was pretty cryptic. What did you need me for this morning?”

  Joe handed Debbie a filled mug and dumped some sugar in his own. “Help with the trailer.”

  “Now what’s wrong with it?”

  “Need to replace some rusted springs.” Joe took a sip of coffee.

  “Are you serious? This couldn’t wait?” Bruce frowned. “And since when do you need my help?”

  Joe sauntered to the counter, where Greg stood piling up his plate. “I want to use it this afternoon, and two of us will fix it faster.”

  Huh, maybe she wasn’t the only one who got under Bruce’s skin. She smiled as Greg poured so much syrup his eggs floated and then took a seat at the table.

  “Might as well eat since I am. We can’t start until I’m finished.” Joe grabbed a plate.

  “I’m not done with this conversation.”

  “Then talk while I’m eating.” Joe brought his food to the table and sat. He took a bite of the hash browns. “Mmm. These are great.” He waved his empty fork at Sarah. “You put cheese in them?”

  “Yup. Cheddar.”

  Greg swirled his eggs in the syrup. “Sure don’t get food like this in the morning at home.”

  “You put onions in here?” Joe inspected the potatoes on his plate.

  “Yes. You like them?” Sarah snuck a look at Bruce, who stood stiff and stoic. Grouchy didn’t begin to describe his demeanor.

  Bruce’s gaze went back and forth from her to Joe. “I can’t
believe this.”

  Joe glanced at him and finished chewing. “What’s got your skivvies in a wad?”

  “Really?” Bruce glowered. “I got up at five thirty, took a shower, rushed over here to help you, and you’re sitting here swapping recipes.”

  “Well, that’s just stupid.” Joe took a sip of coffee and dished up some eggs. “Taking a shower before coming to work at the farm.”

  Greg choked on his drink, spitting out juice.

  Sarah bit back a grin at Joe’s not-the-least-bit-intimidated attitude.

  Bruce scowled across the room at Joe, who continued cutting up his pancakes. After a beat, Bruce snatched the newspaper from the counter and stomped through the door.

  This could be trouble. Sarah stepped to the screen and peeked out at him as he smacked the paper down on the wicker table.

  “He’s gonna be a pain in the ass to work with if he doesn’t get some food,” Joe said. “You mind fixing him a plate, Sarah?”

  “Throwing me to the wolves?”

  “You can handle him.”

  Debbie brought her coffee to the table and took a seat next to Joe. “I figured I’d wait to eat until all the commotion was over.”

  With Bruce’s current mood, it might not be over. Sarah loaded two plates and took them out to the porch. Bruce had opened the paper, but he gazed at the fields.

  “You didn’t have to bring me that.” He stood.

  Sarah scanned the area. The morning sun reflected off something shiny near the tree line. She squinted. Nothing natural in the woods should reflect light. Her shoulder blades pinched together.

  Bruce crossed the deck and stopped in front of her, blocking her view. He took one of the plates. “Come, sit down.”

  She wanted to go inside, but he might ask questions if she refused. No one would mess with her while Bruce sat inches away. She nodded and followed him to the table, sneaking a glance back at the woods. The reflection was gone. A smidge of tension eased.

  He put his plate down and pulled out a chair for her. “Joe pisses me off sometimes.”