FOUR
N
ew security system.
New windows.
New locks on the doors.
Everything secure thanks to Personal Securities Incorporated.
The owner, Ryder Malone, had made sure of it. Catherine had met him while she
was in prison and had been surprised to see him again, but he knew his job and
he did it well, working with an efficient team.
And with Darius.
Darius.
She shoved the name and the man from her mind, refusing them
the same way she refused the panic that edged up and threatened to spill
out.
Locked in.
Locked up.
But all the locks and windows and security systems in the world
couldn’t make Catherine feel safe. She paced her room, the heat of the day still
thick in the battened-down house. Sweat trickled down her neck, and she pulled
at her tank top, tugging damp cotton away from sticky skin, aching to go outside
and sit on the front porch, let the evening air cool her, breathe in a little of
the freedom she’d thought she’d never have again.
Now she had it, but fear held her prisoner.
She hated it.
Hated the weakness in her that had her pacing the room instead
of walking down the stairs, punching the code into the security system and going
outside. Her heart thumped and stuttered at the thought, and she walked to the
window, looked out over the front yard.
The full moon bathed the yard in golden light and cast long
shadows across the grass. The whitewashed picket fence stood stark against the
gray-black landscape, the gate closed just the way it had been since the last
security team member had walked through it. Dark hair gleaming in the sunlight,
T-shirt clinging to broad shoulders and firm muscles, his limp barely noticeable
as he closed the gate and walked away.
Darius.
There in her mind again.
She shoved him out
again,
because
he was just a man who’d happened to be in the right place at the right time to
save her. But he was
still
just a man, and men
couldn’t be trusted.
She’d learned that the hard way.
She didn’t plan to repeat the mistake.
Her heart thumped again, her chest tight and aching.
She needed fresh air.
Now.
She opened the window, stuck her head out to take in great
gulps of cool air. Late August in Pine Bluff and the scent of evergreen and
grass hung heavy in the still night. She’d craved this during her years of
incarceration, and she wouldn’t deny herself now. No matter the fear.
She closed the window, eased open the bedroom door and crept
down the stairs, bypassing the two steps that creaked and walking softly across
the foyer. The hiss of Eileen’s air conditioner would probably drown out any
noise, but Catherine was careful anyway, punching in the security code to turn
off the system and stepping out into the chilly night.
Freedom.
It tasted sweet and fresh and clean, and Catherine lifted her
face to the moonlight, let it dance across her face. At moments like this, she
knew that God was there, just a prayer away, and she was tempted to reach for
Him, try to recapture the faith she’d had before she’d been accused of murder,
before she’d been betrayed by the man she’d loved, before her life had come
crashing down around her, all her dreams crashing with it.
“Please, don’t take Eileen from me. Not yet,” she whispered,
her only answer the gentle breeze that rustled grass and leaves.
She leaned against the porch railing, silence settling around
her as deep and thick as the darkness.
A car engine drifted on the breeze, the sound growing louder
with every heart beat. Coming closer.
Headlights splashed on the dirt road, and Catherine jumped
back, nearly falling into the open doorway in her haste.
Close the door!
Turn on the alarm!
Her hands shook, but she managed to do both, her heart pounding
frantically as she ran up the stairs, looked out her bedroom window again.
A car idled in the driveway, lights off now, doors closed. No
hint of light from the interior. No telling who the driver was.
She could imagine, though.
Could picture the same masked figure that had stood at the edge
of the yard, chased her to the road and toward Darius’s house. Put his hands
around her neck.
She shuddered, grabbing her cell phone and dialing 911 as the
car door opened and a dark figure climbed out.
* * *
Darius eased around the side of Catherine’s house,
approaching from the back rather than the front, hoping to catch the car’s
driver by surprise. He could have brought his truck, but that would have warned
the guy off before Darius got a good look at who he was dealing with.
The bushes near the corner of the house provided perfect cover,
the full moon laying thick shadow against golden light. Darius hugged the edges
of the porch, tensing as a door closed and an engine revved. Leaving?
Surprised, he stepped out from the shadows, let the driver see
him standing in the moonlight, his gun held loose in his hand.
Black Toyota. Tinted windows. No way to see the driver, but the
car pulled away so quickly, he was positive the driver saw him.
Good.
He wanted the guy to know that Catherine wasn’t alone with
Eileen. She had a neighbor who was keeping his eye on things. He tucked the gun
back in his shoulder holster, and jogged up the porch steps, phantom pain
shooting up from his phantom calf. He’d moved too quickly too many times today
and his thigh muscles ached, the stump beneath his knee throbbing.
The porch light went on, spilling onto the newly painted
whitewashed wood. No hint of the bloodred words that had been there earlier.
Darius had made sure of that.
He thought about ringing the doorbell, but Catherine and Eileen
were probably asleep, and he didn’t want to wake them. Not yet. He surveyed the
door and windows. Everything locked up tight just the way it should be. No hint
that anything untoward had happened.
He retraced his steps, this time veering to the left and the
driveway where the car had been parked. Packed earth left no evidence. No tire
marks. No tread. Nothing that would help trace the car.
A lock clicked, the sound loud in the silence, and Darius
frowned as the door opened and Catherine stepped outside.
“He was over near that old pine tree,” she said, not offering a
greeting, not seeming at all surprised to see him there.
“You saw him?”
“Yes.” She walked toward him, her legs long and slender in
cutoff jeans, her arms well muscled and too thin, her tank top clinging to
slender curves and a flat abdomen. She looked like a dancer—long, lean lines and
graceful, upright carriage, but her eyes were wide in a too-pale face, her
breathing shaky.
“You okay?” he asked, and she nodded.
“Fine, but he had something in his hands when he got out of the
car. It wasn’t there when he got back in. I think it’s under the tree.” She
gestured to the edge of the yard and towering pine that stood there.
“Wait here. I’ll take a look.”
“You’ve done enough already, Darius. I’ll look.” She started
walking as if she really expected him to fall in line with her plans.
He snagged the back of her shirt, his fingers skimming over
warm flesh before slipping into the belt loop of her shorts. “I don’t think so,
Cat.”
“I told you not to call me that.”
“Let’s not waste time dancing around the real issue.”
“Which is?” She raised an eyebrow, her hair tawny in the moon’s
yellowish glow.
“You don’t want me involved in your life, and I’m not. I just
happened to hear a car pass my house, and I happen to have the kind of training
that makes me more suited to dealing with danger than you are, so I came over.
It’s as simple as that.”
“I don’t think there’s anything simple about you, Darius,” she
responded.
“That isn’t the point, either. Stay here. I’ll go take a
look.”
“But—”
He walked away, ignoring her protest.
Sirens split the night as Darius crossed the yard. Good. The
police were on the way. The more people moving around, the less likely the perp
would return. Since he didn’t think Catherine was going to hide in the house
while he looked around, he’d rather the guy stay far away.
The pine tree sat close to a whitewashed fence that nearly
glowed in the moonlight. He surveyed the ground, searching for signs that
someone had been there. Wilted grass, a thick layer of pine needles, a few pine
cones. Nothing that looked out of place.
Darius eased closer, watching his steps, studying the ground
carefully. One jerry-rigged explosive device had taken his lower left leg. He
wasn’t in the market to lose the other one.
Pine needles rustled, and Darius caught a hint of soap and
something indefinable and feminine. Not flowery. More like rain on a hot summer
day. Fresh and clean with just a hint of sweetness.
Catherine.
He frowned, glancing over his shoulder. “Stop.”
He barked the command, and she froze, her eyes gleaming in the
bright moonlight. “Do you see something?”
“No. But it’s not what I can see that I’m worried about.” He
studied the ground near his feet, crouching low and tracking a line of
tamped-down pine needles to the base of the tree. The trunk was thick and rough,
the bark flaking off, and at first, he thought that was all he was seeing. Old
flaking bark, slightly darker than the wood. He let his eyes adjust, sirens
screaming in the driveway behind him. Doors closing. Someone calling out, and he
just kept staring at the trunk, his brain seeing what his eyes couldn’t.
A too-regular shape a foot up from the base of the tree, nearly
hidden by the lowest boughs. Sharp edges that didn’t occur in nature. Something
that shouldn’t be there, but was.
What?
“See anything?” Logan Randal crouched beside him.
“Maybe. Do you have a light?” He took the flashlight Logan
offered, shone it on the tree trunk, his pulse jumping as the strange shadow
came into full focus.
Wires.
Explosives.
Set on a timer? A remote?
“Back off. Now!” he ordered, but Logan was already moving,
jumping back from the bomb, words spilling out as he called into his radio.
“What is it?” Catherine moved forward, heading in exactly the
direction she shouldn’t be. Darius snagged her waist, hauled her up and away,
her body stiff and unyielding, her skin soft and pliant.
“Put me down!” She panted, fighting his hold as if he were a
stranger taking her to certain doom rather than a neighbor trying to keep her
from it.
“Gladly,” he responded as he crossed the threshold into the
house, set her down in the foyer, his hands sliding along the smooth skin of her
abdomen, heat spearing through him.
“Go get your grandmother. We need to get out of here.”
“What did you see? What was it?”
“Enough explosives to blow that tree down and take half this
house down with it. Get Eileen, or I’ll do it.” He started down the dark hall,
knowing the way to Eileen’s room, and ready to carry both women out the back
door if necessary.
Catherine could fight him all she wanted, but he’d have his way
in this.
They were going to his place until the police cleared the
explosive.
Maybe for longer.
Obviously, a security system hadn’t deterred Catherine’s
attacker.
“I’ll get her. If you walk in there, she’ll be mortified.”
Catherine brushed by, her body sliding along his. He felt every touch, every
sigh of breath, every trembling muscle.
And he knew he was in trouble. Knew he was being pulled deeper
than he wanted to go.
He’d come to Pine Bluff to settle in and settle down, and that
was all he wanted. Not a relationship. Certainly not a relationship with someone
like Catherine. Someone who had trouble seeping from every pore.
She walked into Eileen’s room, her gentle whisper carrying
through the silent house. Outside, men and women shouted warnings and
directions, but here, in the dark old farmhouse, time seemed to stand still, the
scent of illness and cigarette hanging in the hot air.
He’d give the women ten seconds, and then he was going in.
Ten.
Nine.
Eight.
“It’s not going to matter that your hair is a mess if you’re
dead, Eileen.” Catherine’s words carried clearly this time, her exasperation
obvious.
Six.
Five.
“We need to go. Now. Not in a minute.”
Four.
Three.
Bed sheets rustled. Footsteps padded across wood flooring.
Finally, the two women appeared, Eileen tottering a little,
drowning in an oversize night dress, Catherine a step behind her.
“So, the hunky hero has returned to take us to safety, huh?”
Eileen put a hand on his arm, her skin cool and dry, her fingers trembling.
“I’m not sure
hero
is an accurate
description. I’m just a neighbor trying to help out,” he responded, moving as
quickly as her frailty would allow them to. Down the hall, into the gutted
kitchen and out onto the back deck.
It took too long to get her down the deck stairs. He wanted to
pick her up and carry her, but she swatted his hands away. Finally, they were
down, and she paused for breath, her narrow shoulders heaving as she shivered in
the moonlight. He pulled off his jacket, wrapping it around her, expecting
Catherine to be right beside them.
Or maybe he didn’t.
Because, he didn’t feel at all surprised when he looked and she
wasn’t there.
“Is anyone else in the house, sir?” a uniformed officer called
out as she rounded the side of the house.
“One person. I’ll get her.” He jogged back up the stairs, his
leg nearly giving out, pain shooting from the stump to his hip.
It hurt, and that pissed him off.