The List

by Velvet Vaughn

  Jac gasped and her thighs connected with the steering wheel at the loud rap on the window. Biting back a harsh curse, she unbuckled her belt and gingerly opened the door.

  “Are you ladies okay?” an older man asked. Jac surveyed the area. Several cars fanned out at odd angles, having swerved to avoid a collision.

  “I think we are. My brakes failed.”

  A car skidded into the lot, screeching tires and spewing gravel. Logan and Dan jumped out. “Are you two okay?”

  Jac nodded and the gentleman beside her supplied the cause. “Failed brakes.”

  Logan pinned her with his gaze. “When’s the last time you had your car serviced?”

  Reaching inside, she peeled the sticker from the windshield. “Ten days ago.”

  Logan frowned.

  Dan approached from around the car with his arm supporting Lauren. “What’s wrong?”

  “Faulty brakes that should have been diagnosed when her car was serviced ten days ago.”

  “Do you have an old blanket?” the man who stopped to help asked.

  “Yes.” She dug through the back for the cover.

  “The name’s Karl. I’m a mechanic and I’ll take a look at the brakes.”

  Logan stepped forward and shook the man’s hand. “We would be grateful , Karl.”

  Karl shook out the blanket and Jac helped him arrange it under the Jeep. He squatted down and rolled to his back, seemingly oblivious to the small pebbles under his back. She fished a flashlight from the glove box and handed it to him.

  “Thanks. Was just gonna ask for one,” Karl told her.

  Lauren walked over and threaded her arm around Jac’s back. Jac wrapped hers around the girl’s shoulder. A few minutes later, Karl clumsily rolled from under the car. Logan helped him to his feet.

  “Brakes didn’t fail.” He wiped his hands together.

  Jac’s spine stiffened. “I pushed that pedal to the floor.”

  “Didn’t fail,” Karl repeated, reaching into his back pocket for a handkerchief. “Brake line was cut.”

  Jac took an involuntary step back.

  “Clean in two,” he added for good measure, moping the grease from his hands.

  Vaguely she heard Lauren’s startled gasp and Logan’s violent curse but she could only focus on the four words Karl uttered.

  Brake line was cut.

  Someone intentionally crawled under her car, slashed her brake line, thereby purposely and premeditatedly putting her life in danger.

  Logan wasted no time calling the police. He spoke with clipped tones, describing the incident and requesting a crime scene team.

  The crowd dispersed as a siren wailed in the distance. Karl offered to fix her car and pressed a business card into her hand. She thanked him as he left.

  “Get out what you need. The car will be impounded as evidence.”

  Jac and Lauren gathered their packages and stuffed them in Logan’s SUV.

  “Go ahead and take them home,” Logan instructed Dan. “I’ll grab a ride back with the police.”

  “Someone’s going to have to call Papa Bear.” Dan referred to the nickname he’d bestowed upon Matt after the man had made numerous calls each day to check on Lauren and clearly to make sure Dan was watching out for her well-being.

  “I’ll do it,” Logan offered. “He and Luke used nice weather as an excuse to golf.”

  Dan slapped his brother on the back. “Good luck.”

  A police car pulled into the lot and killed the siren. Another unmarked car followed and two men in suits stepped out. As Dan turned to leave, Logan called out, “Don’t let them out of your sight.”

  Dan saluted his older brother and slid behind the wheel.

  * * * *

  The door slammed hard enough to rattle every window in the house. Murphy scrambled to his feet, his paws fighting to gain purchase against the hardwood floor as he barked in excitement and galloped at Matt’s heels.

  “Lauren! Jac!” Matt yelled.

  “In here,” Lauren responded from the kitchen.

  Matt turned the corner at full speed, Murphy bumping against his legs. He ignored the damage the spikes on his golf shoes inflicted on the tiles as they clicked in unison with Murphy’s nails. Air tore from his lungs when he saw the two women alive and well, sitting at the bar. His knees weakened and he had to brace himself against the center island. Logan’s phone call had shortened his life by at least twenty years.

  He wouldn’t be able to breathe normally again until he reassured himself they were fine. “Princess,” he rasped as Lauren ran into his open arms. He drew his hand down her soft blonde hair and a tremor passed through him. “How are you, baby?”

  “I’m fine, Dad. You didn’t need to leave your golf game. The weather might not be this nice much longer.”

  “You bet I did.” He grasped her face between his hands and planted a kiss on her forehead, folding her in his arms again. “You’re more important than any golf game.”

  Over her head, his gaze met Jac’s. She smiled tenuously, as if unsure how to proceed. Slowly he released his daughter and extended his arms. With a shuddering sigh, Jac stepped into his embrace. Closing his eyes, he inhaled her fresh, flowery scent and rested his cheek against her silky locks.

  * * * *

  Matt persuaded Jac to stay for dinner. When Lauren left to place the order, he crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. “How are you and Logan getting along?”

  “Great. I trust him with my life.”

  “Uh huh.” He stared at her, his icy blue eyes narrow slits. “That’s good.”

  He was sending out an angry vibe. “Is something wrong?”

  “That’s what I thought when I called three times and you didn’t return even one call.”

  Her heart rate started a slow gallop. “You did?”

  He nodded gruffly. “I was going to invite you to Lauren’s game last Friday.”

  She placed a hand on his arm. “I never got your messages.”

  “I left them with your assistant. Darlene, isn’t it?”

  Hot anger crept up Jac’s neck. “Yes, but she didn’t tell me you phoned.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “She told me you were occupied with Logan. The last time I called, she said you two paraded around half naked in your office—”

  “We went swimming!”

  “—and then rushed out the door. She said that I could, quote, fill in the blanks, unquote.”

  She was going to fire Darlene. “Nothing is going on between Logan and me besides friendship.”

  He must have believed her sincerity because he gathered her close, all anger forgotten. “Are you sure you’re okay after the ordeal this afternoon?”

  “I am now.”

  Eighteen

  October 17

  Matt wondered why he couldn’t have normal parents who vacationed somewhere calm and peaceful—maybe a beach in Hawaii or the Florida Keys. No, the adventurous, fun-loving Louis and Loraine Dianetti’s idea of a vacation was a trek somewhere in Kenya’s rough terrain on an African safari.

  Matt heaved a sigh. After the close scare yesterday with Jac’s faulty brakes, he didn’t want Lauren near this mess. He wouldn’t allow her to be put in danger, but he couldn’t send his only child off alone. She was only fifteen, naïve in the ways of the world. But he could send her to his parents…if he could find them.

  “Mr. Dianetti?” Ms. Jones knocked lightly and stuck her head in the door. “I located the pilot who flew your parents and their private guide to Africa, but he doesn’t know how to contact them. I’ll keep working on it.”

  “You’re a Godsend, Ms. Jones. Thanks.” He hadn’t revealed to his temporary secretary the entire reason he wanted to send Lauren away but she was an intelligent woman. With the haste he’d had her searching for his parents, she had to have figured out something was wrong.

  She moved further into the room. “Mr. Dianetti, I know you’re worried about your daughter. I just wanted to let you know that I’l
l be chaperoning the dance next week and I can help keep an eye on her.”

  Matt’s brows raised in surprise. “You’re chaperoning?”

  She nodded. “My daughter attends the same school and I volunteered.”

  “I didn’t know you had a daughter.” Matt smiled considerately. “Thank you. If I can’t locate my parents, I would appreciate your offer.”

  She excused herself to continue making calls while he pushed his chair back and rotated to face the window. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. His parents had been checking in regularly but said they’d be headed to a remote part of the country and didn’t know when they could call again.

  He appreciated the trouble his temporary secretary was going through and her generous offer to help supervise Lauren. This went above and beyond her duties. It had nothing to do with business. He told her he needed to locate his parents and she not only picked up the ball and ran, but she scored touchdown after touchdown.

  Sadly, the only thing he felt for her was respect. She was smart, had a take charge attitude, and clearly wanted him. If his body would cooperate, he could relieve his sexual frustration without worrying about commitment.

  Jac’s image popped into his head. He didn’t want her near this mess either, and that’s when the solution hit him. He’d send them both away until the killer was caught. A slow grin broke across his face. He didn’t need to worry about finding his parents. He could just book Lauren and Jac on a trip to some exotic island.

  Why didn’t he think of this sooner?

  “Ms. Jones, could you come in here, please?”

  * * * *

  “What do you mean you’ve made a reservation for me to Maui?” Jac shouted in disbelief. “I can’t possibly leave now.”

  “Jac, honey, a serial killer is targeting you. That brake line was no prank. You and Lauren could have been killed. I’m not going to take the chance with your lives.”

  Jac closed her eyes and counted to ten to calm her anger. “Matt, you had no right making such decisions without even consulting me. I appreciate the gesture. But I can’t—and won’t—go.”

  Matt straightened and pushed away from her desk. “I’ll not have Lauren exposed to this danger. I want her far away from here.”

  “I agree with you. But you should be the one to go with her, Matt. Then you would be away from the threat.”

  “And leave you here by yourself? What kind of man do you think I am?”

  Her heart fluttered. Could he care that much about her?

  “Besides, if the killer stays true to form, I’m the next target. The guy is resourceful. What would stop him from tracking me down in Hawaii?” He shook his head. “No, I need to stick it out here.”

  She couldn’t fault that logic. The killer probably would be on Matt and Lauren’s tail to the Aloha State. For all they knew, he could be the pilot.

  “I can’t send Lauren alone and my parents are on an African safari. I even tried to contact Corinne but she’s on some spiritual Dalai Lama quest or something in Tibet. That’s why I need you to go with her.”

  Nice. She was the back-up’s back-up. “My club opens in less than a month and I have the grand opening to organize. The preparations have already been made. I have a thousand other things to see to. I can’t back out now. Besides, I won’t let this maniac drive me from my home.”

  He walked around her desk and pulled her to her feet, enveloping her in a hug. “I’m worried about you. I don’t want to be, but I am.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  He chuckled. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I’m attracted to you, Jac. Very attracted. You must know that by now. But I can’t be, for Lauren’s sake. I made a promise to wait until she left to college to start a relationship. I won’t break that pledge.”

  “Why would you make that kind of promise to Lauren?”

  He shook his head. “No. I made it to myself, for Lauren’s sake.”

  “That’s being unfair to yourself, don’t you think?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I think. It’s the way it has to be.”

  * * * *

  Jac switched off the television, turned out the lights and headed toward the stairs. She still couldn’t get her earlier conversation with Matt out of her head. Why would he make a promise to himself to wait for Lauren to leave for school before he pursued a relationship? What if he missed out on his opportunity for true love?

  She paused, one foot poised over the bottom stair, instantly alert. Mrs. Potter’s dog was barking his scrawny little head off. That wasn’t Chopper’s normally annoying yap, the one where he wanted to draw attention to himself. No, this was his ‘I’ve got something cornered and I want everyone to know’ bark. Her heart picked up speed and beat in rhythm with Chopper’s woofs. She stealthily navigated the dark house, tiptoeing to the back door.

  Chopper’s yapping was now a continuous high-pitched snarl. Her heart thudded harder as she inched closer to the door. The only illumination in her small yard came from the neighbor’s houses. She moved to the window and peeked outside just as two hands and a head appeared on the other side.

  “Aaaahhh!”

  “Who’s there? What are you doing in my yard?”

  “Jac, it’s me, Harvey. Please open the door. I hear digging. I think the dog is coming after me.”

  She deactivated the alarm and pulled the door open without unfastening the chain, not about to let him in her house. She started to ask him what he was doing when his heavy breathing cut off with a gasp.

  Her breath caught in her lungs and a bubble of terror lodged in her throat when she discovered the reason for Harvey’s silence. A thick forearm covered in black leather wrapped around his neck and a shiny black revolver pressed into his temple.

  “Harvey!”

  She stared in horror as a deep “Oof” sounded through the door, the gun wavered and pointed through the glass—directly at her.

  Nineteen

  Terror rooted Jac to the spot as she found herself staring down the barrel of a gun. She heard thumping and a deep, masculine voice spewing a string of curses. She cocked her head.

  “Logan?”

  She flicked on the outdoor light, jerked the chain loose and threw open the door.

  “Lady, quit hitting me!”

  “Thief, robber, peeping Tom!” Mrs. Potter shrieked as she clobbered Logan with her cane. “Someone call 911. He has a gun!”

  Logan’s arms desperately tried to fend off the attack. “Please put down the cane!” Her walking stick crashed down on his hand and the gun clanked to the wood deck.

  Lights snapped on all around the neighborhood at Mrs. Potter’s continued pleas.

  “And get your damn mutt off me,” Logan growled. It was then Jac noticed he was hopping around on one foot shaking his other leg where Mrs. Potter’s attack dog was attached like Velcro to his jeans.

  “Mrs. Potter, please stop.”

  “Jacqueline call the police. I’ve got the armed robber covered.”

  Jac made an attempt to grab the thrashing cane but Mrs. Potter was freakishly strong and she didn’t want to hurt the grandmotherly woman. “Mrs. Potter, this is Logan Bradley, my bodyguard. Please stop hitting him.”

  Mrs. Potter halted mid-strike as sirens howled in the distance. “Did you say bodyguard?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh dear.”

  Jac nodded sternly.

  Mrs. Potter thumped her cane to the deck and settled her weight over the wooden staff. “Oh dear,” she repeated. “I didn’t know you had—”

  “Dog,” Logan growled.

  “Oh, dear. Chopper, no-no. Release the nice man’s pants. Come here baby.” Mrs. Potter bent and picked up Chopper, who snarled at Logan.

  “I heard Chopper and then I saw this man with the nasty gun and I hurried over to help.”

  Jac clamped her lips together. Her elderly neighbor and hurry didn’t belong in the same sentence. “Thank you, Mrs. Potter. I appreciate you
r watchfulness.” Her brows pulled down and she scanned the yard. “Where did Harvey go?”

  Logan shifted with alertness. “That was Block?”

  She nodded and opened her mouth to speak when several bright spotlights crisscrossed the lawn, flooding the back yard. “Freeze and put your hands in the air,” a loud voice boomed over a megaphone.

  “Hold your fire,” Logan bellowed.

  “Go, go, go,” someone shouted. Dark shadows surrounded the deck, all with firearms pointed.

  Logan moved forward. “Hey, this was a misund—”

  “I said freeze,” a voice ordered.

  With a sigh, Logan reached for his ID. “Listen, I’m a—”

  Clicks rippled around the yard as hammers cocked. “The ground. Now.”

  With a harsh curse, he lowered himself to the deck.

  One officer stepped forward. “Ladies, are you okay?”

  “I’m afraid this is a misunderstanding. He’s my bodyguard. He scared off the intruder.”

  The cop noticed the gun on the deck. “Is that your weapon?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have a permit? Some ID?”

  “I was just about to show you when you pulled your Dirty Harry routine,” Logan muttered.

  “Logan Bradley, is that you?” The voice came from the distance.

  Logan lifted his head. “Hey, Crandall, yeah, it’s me. Can you call off the cavalry?”

  “Put your weapons away,” Crandall instructed. “He’s a private investigator.

  Logan sprang to his feet. “Did anyone see a man, Caucasian, light brown hair, green jacket, five-nine?” At their negative responses, he recited the evening’s events to Officer Crandall, who jotted the information down and promised to add it to Jac’s growing file.

  Twenty

  October 18

  Belting out Dave Matthews at the top of her lungs, Jac stepped from the shower and grabbed her towel from a hook. With vigorous strokes, she dried her hair and ran the soft cloth over her body. Steamy vapor hung in the room like a toasty sauna. Stepping onto the plush white rug that ran the length of her vanity, she reached for her moisturizer and squeezed a dollop into her hand. After she finished slathering the cream over her arms and legs, she flipped the cap shut and tossed the tube onto the counter. Looping the towel around her chest, she lifted her hand to wipe the steam from the mirror and froze.