It was pathetic and creepy.
Hell, the damn place gave him the heebie-jeebies… like he’d stumbled into Stepfordlandia.
He scoffed beneath his breath at the recycle bins. Stupid bastards… did they really think their puny little efforts would make a damn bit of difference to the environment in the long run? That recycling an aluminum can or a plastic bottle was going to slow down global warming or save the armadillo or help right whatever the new trendy-preachy cause was?
The real danger to the planet was overpopulation.
Of course, those carefully crafted environmental reports never admitted that. But you could read the truth between the paragraphs. Who was responsible for the vast majority of the CO2 emissions? People. That’s who.
Hell, he was a fucking hero for doing his part in cutting back the human population. They should give him a damn medal.
He grinned. Wouldn’t that be a jolly good defense for his lawyer? If he ever made it to trial. Which he had no intention of doing. Hell, he had no intention of living through this last adventure of his. But before he opened himself to suicide by bullet, he was going to have some fun… and dish out some payback.
As he regulated his breathing and waited for his legs to stabilize, his irritation returned.
Fuck, it had taken him forever to walk the distance from where he’d parked his vehicle to the condo she’d rented. Even now, after a five-minute rest, his lungs still felt like they were cutting their way out of his chest. The pain was sharp, constant, an ever-present burn.
He’d give his pissed-off chest a few more minutes to calm the fuck down and then head for her rental. Her place was five, maybe six houses to the right—although they all looked the same at night. Hell, the houses were pressed so close together they looked like one long chain of buildings in the darkness. Until you got closer and realized a ribbon of grass separated them.
Earlier in the day, he’d taken a casual cruise past the housing development, following the beep, beep, beep of the GPS tracker he’d slapped beneath the hood of her SUV. Overhearing Evans and England discussing the upcoming meeting with Ariel Hamilton had been a stroke of luck. Discovering that she’d taken off with Evans and left her vehicle unattended in front of the Daily News had been an even bigger stroke of luck.
Hell, he carried a portable GPS tracker for exactly this kind of opportunity. Sometimes you just needed to know where a person was staying.
He’d expected to get that information from Hamilton’s phone. But the woman had managed to reroute her calls through multiple servers and multiple towers, which made it impossible to track. The tech jocks had been impressed with the technology she was using. He’d been annoyed. With that easy route to locating her off the table, he’d had to revert to cold calling and boots on the ground.
And look how fucking well that had worked out. Who would have guessed she’d book multiple hotel rooms and then not stay in any of them?
Where was the woman’s sense of fiscal responsibility?
At least he hadn’t had to worry about the hotel security recording him. Scrambling camera feeds into white noise was easy if you knew what electronics to use. Still—the fuckup had been a giant waste of time and energy—neither of which he had to spare.
Too bad it wasn’t as easy to take out motion-activated lights. This development was full of them. Evading them meant hiking around the entire community and sneaking up on her place from behind.
The detour had added another fifteen minutes to his hike.
A long, bushy arborvitae hedge he was currently enjoying ran the entire length of the development in the back, which provided plenty of cover. And only a few of the houses had motion sensors along their patios. Probably because the bedrooms were at the back of the condos, and there was nothing more annoying than lights popping on and shining through your window curtains every time a cat walked across the lawn.
Too bad everyone didn’t opt for convenience over security. It would make his hobby so much easier.
As he slunk along the hedge, the shrubs picked at his clothing and prickled his arms. Hugging the shrub shouldn’t have felt like such a slog, but it did. What pitiful shape this damn disease had reduced him to. A year ago, he could have jogged that mile and walked this hedge with barely an increase to his pulse or respiration. Yet look at him now… so fucking wobbly a toddler could beat him to her back door.
She better be sound asleep and easy to grab. Although the Taser hooked to his belt would help with that. After a couple of jolts with that, she wouldn’t be putting up a fight.
Back in the day, he wouldn’t have needed the extra insurance. His hands had done the job well enough. But this time… hell, he wasn’t taking any chances. This was his grand finale, so to speak. And he’d get the job done, no matter how tired he was or how much he hurt. It was a matter of focus, of pushing aside the pain. Concentrating on the payoff.
On the plus side of things, he wouldn’t have to walk back to his car.
Once he incapacitated her, he’d shove her into the back of her Honda. The garage she’d been parking her SUV in would conceal him. He’d be able to stow her away and use her vehicle to transfer her to his.
Nobody would be the wiser. Hell, even if someone was awake and saw her car pull out of the driveway, the darkness would conceal him, and her. Assuming the witness was far enough away they wouldn’t see him when the motion-detector light came on.
After a moment, he shrugged and scrubbed a hand down his face, wiping away the sweat. He had no choice in the matter; taking her car was the only option. The condition he was currently enjoying made it impossible to hike back to his car—certainly not with her slung over his shoulder.
Not that he’d ever been stupid enough to try such a stunt back when he’d been actively involved in his little hobby. Getting cocky got one killed… or captured… which amounted to the same thing.
With a deep breath and an attempt to regulate his breathing, he darted across the lawn on a direct path to her patio door. His lungs protested each step with urgent, fiery stabs of agony.
Jesus, were the fucking things trying to erupt from his chest like that freaking creature in Alien?
No motion-detector lights popped on though. Her condo was one of the ones that had forgone the security in favor of comfort.
Not so good for Ariel… but good for him.
He found the electrical company’s outside box tucked along the side of her condo. A couple of snips of the wires snaking into the outside wall and the alarm was down, so were the lights and the clocks and anything fed by electricity. He backtracked to the patio door, so weak and shaky he almost lost his grip on the wire cutters. Swearing beneath his breath, he shoved them into his pocket and took out the lockpicking packet.
Adrenaline hit as he freed the tension wrench and three-ridge rake from his set of tools. Strength flooded him. His hands stilled. His breathing evened out. His vision sharpened and focused.
Thank fuck. Finally. Finally he was a semblance of his normal self.
His hands were steady as he inserted the tension wrench into the bottom hole of the lock and applied subtle pressure. The three-ridge rake went into the top hole. A couple of back-and-forths with the rake later and the wrench slowly turned to the right and the door breathed open a crack.
Confidence flooded him. A slow, satisfied smile curved his lips. He hadn’t lost his touch. Things were finally going his way.
Now to find the girl, tase her, and steal her away.
By the time Evans, the fucktard, knew she’d been taken, it would be too late. He wouldn’t be finding her again.
At least not before she was cold and dead and had joined Evan’s twin in the grave.
Chapter Eleven
Ariel groaned under her breath, sat up in bed to readjust her tank top and sleeping shorts, and flopped back down to glare up at the bedroom ceiling.
Another half an hour, that was all she was giving herself. If she hadn’t fallen asleep by then, she’d get up and
put some work in on her current project. Maybe that would lull her to sleep; it sure seemed boring enough in its current incarnation to bore anyone to tears or slumber.
If she could just figure out what was wrong with the manuscript… Her glower gained strength. You’d think after four books, the creative aspect of her chosen career would get easier. But no, nothing was ever easy when it came to artistic expression.
She’d tried to lull herself to sleep by going over her to-do list. But a visit to the medical examiner’s office wasn’t the most soothing bedtime story. Neither were thoughts of her sister, even though contacting Ashley was right at the top of her list. She couldn’t put off calling her any longer. Her sister’s voice mails had gone from sharp and insistent to monotone and dry, and then they’d stopped altogether—which was a very bad sign.
She wouldn’t be surprised if Ash had already arrived in Dark Falls and was camped out at one of the local hotels, waiting to pounce on her come morning. Which would be all sorts of fun—not. Ashley’s passive-aggressive dominance was bad enough on the phone, where you could hang up on it. It became downright unpleasant in person.
A reminder that wasn’t helping her fall asleep.
Not that she could blame her sister for her current sleepless condition—although she would like to. But no, it wasn’t thoughts of her sister that were keeping her up tonight. It wasn’t even thoughts really—more like feelings combined with frustrating sensations.
Shifting restlessly beneath the heavy, unfamiliar bedding, she scowled at the pervasive ache between her thighs. Hell, she hadn’t been this horny since… well… ever.
When it came to sex, she’d never had to do without.
Back in high school and college, Rhys had been happy to scratch any itch she might have. Since then she’d never lacked for male companionship—casual though it may be. And if a fuck buddy wasn’t handy, there was always her handy-dandy, three-speed, fifty-shades-of-greedy vibrator.
Her long, raw sigh was deep, heartfelt, and frustrated.
What she wouldn’t give for that vibrator now. True, it wouldn’t come close to matching Rhys’s hot, hard body or the talented things he could do with his fingers, tongue, and cock… but it would be a damn site better than her fingers.
If she’d packed the vibrator, she wouldn’t be in this dilemma—all stoved-up from pure horniness.
But then she hadn’t expected to run into Rhys Evans. Her high school sweetheart, her college flame, the boy who’d broken her heart. If she’d realized he was living in Dark Falls, she would have taken emergency vibratory measures. God knows the man had always affected her libido like this.
He was the only man who—
A sudden, horrendous crash sounded somewhere in the darkness.
She recognized the cacophony of rattling and rolling instantly. Someone had deployed one of her early warning traps.
Her heart rate accelerated, spiking her pulse. Her head went buzzy. She forced calm. Forced rational thinking.
Toward the left, not the right, in the kitchen.
She looked toward the clock. The bright, red numbers had fallen into darkness.
They cut the electricity.
A whoosh of adrenaline rolled through her.
She jolted up and out of bed, grabbing the cell phone and the Sig Sauer from the bedside table. She swooped down to grab her sneakers from their position beside the bed and stuffed her phone deep inside one of the shoes.
No time to stop and put her shoes on. And no sense in letting the intruder know where she was by calling 9-1-1. Even if she left the phone on but didn’t say a word, the operator’s voice would echo through the silent house.
She’d exit the house, pull on her shoes, and call for help.
The sound of metal rattling across tile faded as she darted for the window across from the bed.
Move… move… move.
The collection of coffee and pop cans she’d dumped in front of the kitchen door had done their job. They’d alerted her to an unwelcome visitor. They’d given her a chance to escape the house before he reached her room. But that early warning wouldn’t matter in the slightest if she didn’t get out of the damn house before he incapacitated her.
Move… move… move.
If she escaped through the window, before he entered the bedroom, she might not have to use the Sig. But she would, if she had to.
The cans had stopped rolling, so the condo was hushed as she unlocked the window latch and shoved the window back. It slid easily, silently, one of the reasons she’d chosen this room.
When a possible killer drew you to town, you took every precaution possible. Including tin cans at both exits in case the electricity was cut and windows with sturdy locks but that opened with ease—in case you needed a quick exit.
She’d pick up some scratches from the shrubs outside the window, but that was better than the alternative. After tossing her sneakers out the window—and offering up a mental prayer that her phone remained inside—she glanced toward the bedroom door.
It opened with a bullfrog croak.
Another security feature she’d appreciated. Nobody was opening that door without her hearing it.
A bulky shadow filled the doorway.
Her senses were so heightened she could smell him, a sickly sweet, overripe odor. Like decaying fruit. Or death.
She aimed the Sig at the shadow and pulled the trigger. He—she just knew it was a he—lurched to the side. Out of view. She pulled the trigger again—twice, in rapid succession. Then spun and launched herself out the window.
She fell face-first in the middle off the bush beneath the window and rolled, almost landing on her shoes. Snatching them up, she sprang to her feet and ran.
The grass was cold and slick beneath her bare feet. The moon a dizzying silver orb above. With each step, she cringed, her heart beating in her head, the certainty that a bullet was about to plow into her, swallowing her mind.
Or maybe a hand… maybe a hand was about to land on her shoulder and drag her into a nightmare. She fought the urge to look over her shoulder to see if someone was following her. She couldn’t afford to slow down.
Move… move… move.
The order beat insistently through her head.
She couldn’t hear anything besides her pulse in her ears and the sound of her own panicked breathing. Couldn’t tell if there was someone behind her.
She raced down the strip of grass between her condo and the next, across the conjoined yard and then the asphalted road, wincing as the rough pavement and scattered pebbles tore at the bottoms of her bare feet.
Streetlights marched down the street, haloing ten-by-ten sections with bright white but lighting the entire cul-de-sac as well. She would be clearly visible to anyone—including her intruder. She needed to get out of the light and into the shadows.
She considered screaming, calling for help. But it was the middle of the night; responses would be slowed. Screaming would just give her position away.
However, the shadows between houses on this side of the street looked like perfect hiding places. She picked a spot between two houses and veered toward it.
Lights popped on.
Fuck.
She swerved away.
Those damn motion-sensor lights would give her path away. She needed a different hiding place.
And she needed to find a place soon so she could put on her shoes. Her feet were killing her. But every possible hiding spot was in a yard or between houses, which meant those stupid lights would pop on.
Of course… if all the lights came on… if every yard was lit up like the week before Christmas, he wouldn’t know which cluster of houses she was hiding between. She swerved back onto the grass and blew past half a dozen houses.
But this new plan wouldn’t work if he was behind her, watching her. Plus she would have to turn around and backtrack a bit. It would be a dead giveaway if the lights were blazing on houses one through five but stopped at six.
She groan
ed beneath her breath. Dammit, she should have thought this more thoroughly.
What to do? What to do?
Was he even behind her?
She needed to know.
Keeping to the grass in case she tripped, she glanced over her shoulder.
Relief swept through her. There was nobody back there. At least nobody close. She stopped running, spun around—still couldn’t see anyone—and retraced her path for several houses. Halfway back to the condo, she darted into the shadows between two of the buildings. For good measure she fled straight across the huge backyard until she reached a row of junipers.
With her breath rattling in and out of her throat and her heart beating so hard it felt like it was going to pound right through her chest, she shoved her way through the hedge and collapsed on the other side.
Calm down. Slow down your breathing. Get a grip.
She took a moment to fill her starving lungs with huge gulps of air before digging her phone out of her shoes.
Instead of hitting 9-1-1 and announcing to the entire Dark Falls Police Department where she was hiding, she scrolled through her missed calls until she found Rhys’s number from the day before.
Her thumb shook as she hit Dial.
One ring… two… then Rhys’s deep, raspy voice came over the line. “Ariel?”
Instant calm fell over her. Peace. The sense that everything was going to be fine.
She took a couple of hoarse, breathless gulps of air and struggled to find her voice.
“Ariel?” His voice sharpened.
“I’m here.” The words came out high and squeaky.
His voice sharpened even further, honed to an edge. “What’s wrong?”
“Someone broke into the house I’m staying at.” At least this time her voice was more stable, not by a lot, but by a little bit.
“Are you hurt?” The question exploded through her phone.
“No.” She drew another breath. Damn, it was hard to talk when your lungs weren’t working. “I ran. Got away.”
Harsh, raspy breathing carried down the line. She frowned, pulling the phone away from her ear. Was that her? It didn’t sound like her.
Dark Legacy: (Dark Falls, CO Romantic Thriller Book 3) Page 10