Insulting or arguing with him just then wasn’t going to help. “You have been a worthy adversary, Mr.—”
“I think you mean superior.” He pushed the weapon into her spine. She got the message, walk or die now. “Although, I am curious as to how you found me.”
They were at the back door. It was now or never. Before Kat could react, he pushed her forward as he twisted the doorknob. She stumbled, but caught the edge of the table, keeping her from kissing the dirty kitchen linoleum. A quick glance told her options were limited. The kitchen was pretty empty. Nothing on the counters, not even a coffeepot. How did this man survive?
“You made a mistake.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Everyone makes mistakes, Mr. . . .” She tried again, smiling as she heard the resigned sigh.
“St. Pierre. It doesn’t matter if I tell you, because you’re not going to share it with anyone.” A drawer behind her opened and closed, then he was nudging her forward toward the living room. “Tell me. What was this grand mistake?”
“Nothing big. Usually it’s the little things that trip people up.” Like letting our egos override our better judgement. “You were seen in the area of more than one clinic. You were remembered.”
When he didn’t respond, Kat took a chance and turned around to face her nemesis, the man who had disrupted her life, destroyed her home, and made her hide like a scared little mouse. The gun was pointed at her heart. In the span of a heartbeat, she noticed three things. The duct tape in his hand. The small smile of surprise. The smell of gasoline.
Her gaze darted around the room. How did she get out of this mess? How did she get out alive? The front door was only a few feet away, but bullets moved fast, faster than her feet could run. The furniture was old and looked more like kindling for a fire than a place to sit and chill. The man stank of gasoline. He probably had cans of it lying in wait. Most importantly, she noticed, his hand didn’t shake. He could pull the trigger. Kill her on the spot, and he’d easily go enjoy a cold one afterward without an ounce of remorse.
Great. She’d totally missed putting meet up with a pyromaniac sociopath on her calendar.
Or was it psychopath? She could never keep those two straight. Not that it mattered. Either way, he was looking forward to her death. The gleam in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. Fight or die.
“Don’t even think about it. I see you looking for a weapon or something to smash my brains in with.” He held up the tape. “Hold out your hands.”
She gave one last feeble attempt to glance around to find something, anything, before blowing out an angry breath, and did as he ordered. St. Pierre looked down at the tape in one hand, the gun in another and cursed. “Pull the tape loose and then stick it the end to your wrist.”
As if. She reached for the roll, and as soon as she had it in her hands, she swung out. Blood sprayed from where she impacted with his cheek. St. Pierre stumbled. The gun skittered across the wooden floor. And Kat ran for the front door. As she reached for the knob, he tackled her and they went down in a heap. This time she did more than kiss the floor. He slammed her, face first, into the tile. The room faded in and out. St. Pierre grabbed her hair, throwing her back toward the middle of the room, her head bouncing off the wood as she landed. Now there were three of him. She aimed her kick toward the one in the middle, but her reactions were slow and she missed. Before she could form a new plan, he was back on her. The gun in his hand. She had just enough time to register his intentions before the butt of the gun connected with her skull.
When Kat came to, she was alone, on her side, on the living room floor with her hands, feet, and mouth duct taped. Head pounding. The world spinning around like she’d been on the teacup ride.
Where was he?
She didn’t have time to worry because, while she’d caught a whiff of gas earlier, now the whole place reeked of it. Guess it was asking for too much for a second mistake. The rat-bastard had tied her hands behind her back. Taking caution not to make any noise, Kat inched her way across the floor. She needed something steady and strong to lean against so she could stand. After several minutes, she made it to the wall. After a few attempts to slide up the vertical surface, she fell flat back to her side.
She needed her feet free.
Swinging her legs around in front of her, she lifted them over the edge of the end table and pushed the center of the tape into the sharp corner of the wood. Clearly whoever had lived with this furniture didn’t have kids. Total fall hazard. She repeated the action over and over until she felt a little slack around her ankles. Rapidly she moved her legs, alternating up and down like she was riding a bike, until the tape snapped. By this time, she was panting. Sweat dripped down from her temples. She took a deep breath, held it as she listened for St. Pierre, and slowed her breathing. She could hear movement in the back of the house. It was now or never. She rolled and sat up, bringing her knees in close to her body. She rolled backward, sliding her hands under her butt. Her head pounded from the bashing it had taken earlier. Her heart beat out a rapid tattoo from the exertion. Her taped hands got stuck on her heels.
“Damn, damn, damn,” Kat cried quietly. She refused to die in this craptastic hovel.
One more time. She tightened her core muscles, pulling her bellybutton to her spine as one trainer had instructed. She flexed her feet and pulled her arms forward as quickly and with as much power as she had left. It wasn’t a lot. Her whole body ached with fatigue. As her wrists slipped past her toes, she took in a deep breath and rolled to a standing position. Now to free her hands.
She raised her arms as high over her head as she could. In one swift move, she brought them down, forcing her elbows past her ribcage. The pain across her abdomen nearly doubled her over but the tape broke. Thank goodness for all those yoga classes and that she’d left the duct tape on her mouth or St. Pierre might have heard her cry out.
There were two choices at this point: fight or flight.
It was tempting to try to escape. Get the hell out of Dodge or, in this case, Norwich. But then he’d still be out there. She’d still be living her life in fear, always watching over her shoulder.
Option one it was. She had the element of surprise on her side, as he thought she was still trussed up on the floor like a Thanksgiving turkey. Noise from down the hall caught her attention. Quickly she flattened against the wall and waited.
Nothing was going as Shawn had planned. He and Kat had definitely made the most of their last night together. In between rounds of earthshattering sex, they’d talked, teased, and laughed until the sun had peeked over the horizon. They’d made love one last time as the sky faded from black of night to dusky purple to orange and finally a pale blue. He’d fallen asleep when he should have been walking out the door. But he had no regrets.
Or did he? Because ever since he’d gotten into his truck and pulled away from Kat’s place, a nagging voice had whispered in his head over and over that he was making a mistake. As he sat in standstill traffic on I-95, he couldn’t help thinking it was an omen or some sign from a higher power.
Right. Like the universe didn’t have better things to do than worry about his social life. Clearly, he needed more sleep. He’d pull over in a couple of hours, catch a catnap at some rest stop. Maybe when he made it to Pennsylvania. That’s if the freaking voice in his head shut up. He cranked up the radio and grabbed his phone. He had to get out of traffic or he wouldn’t make it to the other side of Connecticut before nightfall.
The map promised an exit was coming up soon. He’d take the backroads until he got on the other side of the construction or whatever was causing the backup. While he had his phone, he checked his messages, all the while telling himself he wasn’t looking for anything from Kat.
They’d said their goodbyes. It was time to move on.
The cars in front of him moved forward a few feet, giving him hope, which died as quickly as their progression came to a stop. But at least the voice in his head
had quieted. When his phone rang, he snatched it up, squashing the disappointment that it wasn’t Kat.
“Sutter, what’s up?”
“You on the road yet?” his cousin asked.
“Yeah, but my ass is stuck in traffic.”
“Cool. Where are you? Jersey? PA?”
“Nah, still in Connecticut. Had some things to see to this morning.”
“Some things or someone?” Sutter teased.
Shawn hadn’t mentioned Kat to his family. What was the point when he knew they’d be going their separate ways?
“What’s up? Everyone okay?”
“Yeah, everyone’s fine. Your mom wants to throw a welcome home party for you, but we weren’t sure when you had to report to the station.”
“A week from Monday, but I wanted to get moved into the new apartment sometime next Saturday. Give me time to check out the neighborhood. Buy some groceries. Stuff like that.”
“Eh, food is overrated.” Sutter laughed at his own joke. “Speaking of, I found a new Asian restaurant you’re going to love. They serve Chinese, Japanese, and Thai food. The Singapore noodles will clear your sinuses.”
“You know my weakness, bro. I’m down for that.” Shawn thought about his plans for the week, mentally switched a few things around. “I guess I could move in on Sunday instead.” In truth, while Shawn wanted to see his family and friends, he wasn’t much in the celebratory mood. He missed Kat already, but he wasn’t going to rain on his mom’s homecoming plans for him.
“Okay, I’ll let Aunt Lynn know it’s a go for the party and I’ll see you Tuesday with lots of takeout cartons.”
“Better make it Wednesday. With the way this traffic is moving, and my late start, I’ve already lost a half a day’s travel.”
As he hung up the phone the voice in his head returned, this time more insistent. Kat needs you. He was losing his mind. He’d worked hard to make this move, to land the new job and get him back where he belonged. So why the second-guessing? It made no sense, but he’d learned to listen to his gut instincts.
He called Kat, but it went straight to voice mail. After a few more attempts, he swore, cranked the steering wheel, and as soon as there was enough space he drove onto the shoulder and took the upcoming exit.
The closer he got to Camden Point, the louder the warning bell in his head got. Finally, he pulled up at Rafe’s place, and ran for the door, only to come up short when the door wouldn’t open. He hit the doorbell.
“Come on, Kat. Prove my gut wrong.”
Nothing. Maybe she’d gone back to bed? He circled the house, peering into what rooms he could see. Nothing except the cat, who blinked at him with disdain. The back door was locked too and he knew there wasn’t a hidden key. He’d made sure of it when Kat had first started staying here. A quick peek through the garage window showed Kat’s car gone. Maybe she’d gone into town, to Elsie’s or the office.
He was cruising slowly past the diner when he saw Lexie and Rafe come running out of LexaKat Investigations. He slammed on his brakes. There wasn’t time to ask questions as the two jumped into Shawn’s truck.
“Go,” Lexie said.
“Go where?”
“Norwich. Kat’s in trouble.”
Her words sank like a lead weight in his stomach. “I tried calling, but it went straight to voice mail.”
“She’s not answering my calls, either,” Lexie said.
What? “How do you know she’s in trouble then?”
"Trust me. I know Kat. If she weren't in trouble, she'd pick up my call." Lexie nodded but Shawn wasn’t sure to what.
"Where is she?" Although Shawn already had a good guess.
Lexie's gaze darted to Shawn, then to Rafe and back to the front. "I don't have an exact address, just what I was told."
"Told what and by whom?"
"Can you let me concentrate? Just drive?” She looked down at the cell phone she had in one hand. Maybe she was getting a text message from their associate, Ashley, or an informant. “We have to get to her before it's too late."
“Lexie, what’s going on?” When she ignored his question, he looked to the man next to her. “Rafe, want to clue me in?”
“I don’t know more than what Lexie’s told you. She got a warning that Kat was in trouble. Kat found the arsonist and he has her.”
“Did she have someone with her? Ashley? Do we know what’s going on?”
Rafe’s phone pinged with an incoming message. What the ever-loving fuck? Why wouldn’t Lexie answer his questions? They should have taken Rafe’s police vehicle, at least it had a siren. No, that wouldn’t be better. They didn’t want to spook this guy. He could panic and hurt Kat.
“That was Daines. He’s going to wait for us at the college.” Rafe said.
Shawn pressed down harder on the accelerator. He wasn’t sure what they were up against, but every instinct told him time was of the essence. He also couldn’t help the feeling that something was off. Like how did Lexie know where to go? Who was feeding her information? Why wouldn’t she tell him? Why did she keeping looking at the rearview mirror, like someone else was there? And who in the hell was she talking to?
The woman kept mumbling things like, “I know,” and “I am,” but neither he nor Rafe had said anything. He didn’t think she had on a Bluetooth headset and while he didn’t know her well, it was clear she was stressed and worried. From everything Kat had told him, he knew the two of them had been best friends their whole lives. More like sisters.
As they approached the entrance to the college, Daines flashed his lights and pulled out behind them.
“Turn left,” Lexie said. “Make two rights, then slow down. Keep an eye out for Kat’s car.”
Shawn did as instructed. He made the second right, keeping his truck moving along at a snail’s pace. “Lexie, do we have an address? Is someone meeting us at Kat’s car?
She ignored him, as her gaze bounced from one side of the street to the other. He was about to pepper her with another round of questions when her hand shot out. “There.”
“What?”
“Kat's car. The blue Lexus. She's near here.”
Shawn pulled up behind Kat’s car, barely getting the car into park before Lexie was pushing Rafe out the passenger door and taking off up the street. She stopped at the edge of an unkempt lawn. When Shawn, Rafe and Daines caught up to her, she nodded to the house. “She’s in there.”
“Are you sure?” Rafe asked.
The three men took in the house.
“Yes, just trust me when I say she’s not alone and she’s in a lot of trouble.”
“Do you know if she’s hurt?” Shawn asked, no longer caring about her source, just needing to know if Kat was okay.
Lexie closed her eyes as a shudder swept over her. “I don’t know.”
“Okay, we’re going on the assumption that whoever has Kat is armed, dangerous and has no intention of coming out peacefully.” Daines pointed to the carport. “There’s no fence blocking us from the back. Rafe, you and Lexie cover the back door. Shawn and I’ll approach from the front.”
They hadn’t even taken a step when the smell hit Shawn’s nose. “Fire. Something’s on fire.”
The group looked around, trying to spot the source.
“The bastard’s set the place on fire,” Shawn said as a flame danced up the curtain in what looked like one of the bedrooms.
“Calling 911.”
Shawn ran for the door. He didn’t have any equipment, but he knew he didn’t have time to wait. If the arsonist followed his normal pattern, he’d soaked the place in gasoline. Shawn threw himself against the door, but it didn’t budge. Together he and Daines threw their weight against the old wood.
Smoke rolled out the doorway as Shawn shoved the door open. “Kat. Kat! Where are you?”
He turned to Daines and tossed him the truck keys. “Go. Behind the front seat is a fire extinguisher.” He covered his nose and mouth with his arm. His eyes watered and burned from the smoke.
He didn’t care. He had to find her. A quick search of the living room, dining area, and kitchen came up empty. He’d just started down the hallway when he heard a thunk.
The smoke was thicker in this part of the house. Before he could drop low, he had to jump back as a body came flying at him. The guy hit the wall, screamed and shoved himself off. Only then did Shawn see Kat. She had blood dripping from the corner of her mouth and was wielding . . . Was that a toilet plunger?
She swung like she was going for a home run, but the arsonist dodged the hit. He came at Kat from an angle, but she’d anticipated and instead of swinging the wooden stick at him this time, she jabbed it straight into the guy’s gut.
Oh damn, that had to hurt.
The guy doubled over, but he wasn’t done yet. He pushed up with his hands on his legs, his focus on Kat. That’s when Shawn rushed him from behind. He tackled him and together they rolled across the dingy carpet in the empty room. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Kat raising the stick. Shawn rolled over, putting the arsonist on top, just as the stick came down on the back of his neck.
Close call.
“Kat, get out of here,” he yelled.
“Shawn? What are you doing here?” She froze with the stick over her head, ready to come down with another blow. The arsonist didn’t wait. He rolled off of Shawn and made for the door. Shawn went to tackle him again, missing everything but his ankles. Good enough. The guy went down hard, not moving.
“Come on, we have to get out.” The heat from what had to be the back bedroom had licked up the walls, traveling down the hall toward them.
Sirens wailed in the background, as the front door slammed against the wall. “Did you bring the cavalry?” Kat stepped out into the hall and over the unconscious man.
“Go, I’ll grab him.” Shawn reached down, hoisted his nemesis up, and tossed him over a shoulder about the time Daines met up with them. “Daines, get Kat into the fresh air. She’s inhaled too much smoke already.”
Before the Dawn Page 28
