by Lisa Harris
He dreaded the next few moments. Positioning the chair, he pressed off with his legs and threw himself back to land on the chair, and unfortunately his arms. Pain sliced through them. Had he broken something?
Once the throbbing subsided enough that he could move, he twisted out of what was left of the chair, but the plastic ties on his wrists remained. Hands behind his back, he couldn’t reach his ankles to free them from the chair legs. He moved over to Tye, who eyed him with contempt and fear.
“We have to work together to get out of here.” Reg feared the man might actually prefer to kill him than to help them both escape. After all, he’d set him up to die. He’d lied to him. He would definitely be going to prison. “I’m going to position myself behind you. Maybe you can free my ties.”
The man closed his eyes and shook his head as if he’d given up. Or maybe he hoped to still talk his way out of this. Did he have another bargaining tool?
“Fine.” Reg moved to the counter. He saw nothing he could use. In the corner, a fishing pole. Fishing supplies lined a small aluminum shelf. He kicked a box over. Pliers. That would have to work. He had to hurry.
It took several tries, but finally he was able to cut his hands free, then he cut away the ties securing his ankles to the broken chair legs. Once again he focused on the man who’d caused this entire series of events. None of this would have happened if Tye hadn’t gotten greedy.
Tye’s face had changed now . . . to desperation. Reg couldn’t trust him, but he couldn’t leave him. He would leave his hands tied though. Leave him gagged. Using the pliers, he freed the man’s feet, then assisted him, helping him slip his tied arms free from where they’d been secured behind the chairback.
Would he jeopardize Grandmother’s freedom if they escaped? Or had Nicole and Jillian gotten his grandmother to safety?
If he stayed, he and Tye would die. If he left, Grandmother’s life could still be in jeopardy. But, if he stayed, that didn’t guarantee her safety either. He’d delivered the paintings as requested, so, as far as he was concerned, he didn’t need to stay longer.
He had to trust Nicole to find and secure Grandmother. He guided Tye quietly up the basement steps. Waiting at the door, he heard voices coming from the living area, and he headed the opposite direction.
Through the kitchen, he spotted a back door. Once outside, he would do his best to get them out of harm’s way and contact Nicole to ask about Grandmother. He’d also contact the FBI, now that he had his hands on the dirty agent.
Outside, they crept near the house that overlooked Ketchikan, and he couldn’t help but overhear some of the conversation inside.
And a familiar voice.
Nicole.
Chapter Twenty-One
Nicole aimed the gun at two men. Keaton Rhodes, the man in the pictures with Harriet. And the man standing next to Rhodes? Bernardo Claiborne—the man who had killed Nicole’s father. He was the collector she’d confronted a week ago. So he was here for the paintings once stolen by the Nazis. And, now that she thought about it, it all made some kind of weird sense.
Her hand shook with the realization that she would finally get justice for her father. “You aren’t getting away with this.”
“You’re here to finally get your revenge,” Claiborne said, “believing I killed your father.”
That was only part of the reason she was here. She hadn’t known he would be here, but she should have guessed he was the collector. “You did kill my father. Over a book. A stupid old book!”
“The book was merely a token for me, considering your great-grandfather stole from my family.”
“What?”
“I only repaid the favor.”
Oh, she hated the tears surging now. “My grandfather stole from you?”
“Not all the paintings were recovered, but I have been working for decades to retrieve them, and have since broadened my interests and built my reputation.”
“By collecting other paintings that are not yours from the black market or hiring people to get them for you,” she said.
He shrugged. “My appetite has grown.”
She needed to focus and forced a steadiness into her hands and her voice that she didn’t feel. “It doesn’t matter. None of you are getting away with this. The police are on their way.”
She held up her cell.
When their stalker had found them because of Lulu’s bark, Jillian had held the man at gunpoint and called the police. Harriet had overheard one of Keaton’s conversation and told Nicole the address where she could find the trade-off going down—and where she would likely find Reg. She’d left Jillian and Harriet to wait on the police. Harriet would explain the man had held her against her will and that her grandson was being held at a home in Ketchikan.
Nicole could only hope and pray it all went down as planned. Though she’d made the 9-1-1 call too claiming a man had been abducted, she hadn’t seen Reg yet. She hoped she wasn’t too late.
The paintings were laid out for Bernardo and a woman who’d donned latex gloves—the authentications expert?
“Now, where’s Reg?” she demanded.
She maintained her composure and held Harriet’s abductor at gunpoint along with Bernardo. But beneath the cool and in-control veneer, she trembled. Fury wrapped around her fear and allowed her to maintain control and keep the two men and woman frozen in place.
The muzzle of a gun jammed into her back. “Well, if it isn’t the woman responsible for killing James?”
Dread seized her. “I don’t know a James.”
“Yes, you do. He came to the mansion. He didn’t leave with his life.”
“I didn’t kill him.”
“I watched the whole thing from a distance. I had the painting, but I waited for my team. You killed him.”
Oh. The man in the living room. “What did you expect? For me to wait for him to kill me?”
“Enough,” Rhodes said. “Disarm her.”
Nicole turned and elbowed the man in the throat, catching him off guard. She fled through the kitchen as gunfire pinged the wall. Then dove through the door to the grass outside.
She raced around the side of the house. Strong arms gripped her and pulled her against the house. Adrenaline flooding through her, she would fight to free herself.
“It’s me! Nicole, it’s me.”
She turned in Reg’s arms and gasped. “I came to stop this madness. To find you, but I was so afraid they had already killed you.” She noticed a man propped against the house, hands tied, face bloodied. “Who is that?”
“I’ll explain later. Let’s get out of here before they catch up.”
Sirens resounded as police cruisers raced up the road. Officers jumped from the vehicles and surrounded the house. Reg and Nicole quickly identified themselves.
A federal agent approached and flashed his credentials. “Special Agent Cal Poirot. International Investigations.” He stared down at the man still in plastic ties. “Tye Sorento? You’re under arrest.”
Reg stepped forward. “You know what happened.”
“We’re figured it out. His off-shore banking clued us in.” Two agents assisted Tye to his feet, released the plastic ties then handcuffed him. “He’s been intercepting intel and funds obtained via several operations. Not just yours.”
Jillian and Harriet climbed from another cruiser. Jillian assisted Harriet as she hobbled forward on her cane, Lulu in her other arm.
“Reg!”
He wrapped his arms around his grandmother. Nicole shared a look with Jillian. She couldn’t believe they’d actually succeeded and survived. Officers and FBI agents exited the house, with four men hand-cuffed. Rhodes, Bernardo, and two henchmen.
She drew Jillian off to the side. “The man behind purchasing the paintings is Bernardo Claiborne. It’s him. The man who killed Dad.”
Jillian’s eyes widened. “How do you know?”
“I traced the purchase of the Ian Fleming book. I saw him commit the murder, and when I saw h
im, I remembered him and the signet ring he wore then and still wears.”
“What? Why didn’t you go to the police then?”
“I needed more evidence than a faulty memory from years ago, and I was getting my hands on it when I was followed and everything exploded.”
Jillian’s eyes seemed glazed over.
“What are you going to do now? What about Chameleon?”
Jillian’s eyes teared up. “My superior contacted me to tell me Chameleon has done what he does best. He disappeared. Changed up his identity. He’s . . . gone.”
“I’m so sorry, Jillian.” She grabbed her sister and hugged her. When the time was right, she would invite Jillian, once again, to join her in private investigating.
Reg was glad he’d finally settled Grandmother back at her mansion. For now, the paintings remained with the feds as evidence against several criminals. At least Keaton Rhodes, the man Reg had set out to take down, was in custody, and so was Tye Sorento. Nicole and Jillian would see to it Bernardo Claiborne was charged for their father’s murder. That chapter of their lives was coming to a close. The only question that remained . . . what next?
He’d talked to the Special Agent in Charge about the possibility of coming back to work and would go through rigorous testing next month. Maybe it was too soon but his memory had almost completely returned and his head hadn’t felt like it would crack open.
He was definitely on the mend.
Except for in matters of the heart.
The doorbell rang, and Grandmother’s housekeeper, Joyce, insisted on getting it. She ushered Nicole into the kitchen.
Nicole wore a rain jacket, appearing much the same as she had that first day he’d spotted her following him. She gave him a tenuous smile and almost looked as if she regretted coming. “Harriet contacted me.”
Grandmother smiled “Yes. Please, have a seat.”
“I can’t stay long.” She slid into a chair, her eyes shifting between Reg and Grandmother, nervous and edgy. “What’s this about?”
“Payment.” Grandmother chuckled. “I need to write you the check.”
Nicole’s brows lifted. “What? You don’t owe me anything.”
“I hired you to follow Reg and hoped you would work with him to find what had been stolen, and you did that.” Grandmother was already writing out the check.
“Harriet, please. I don’t deserve the money.”
“If it weren’t for you and your informant, things would have turned out much differently.” Grandmother barely glanced up from writing the check. “And I haven’t been completely truthful with you.” Grandmother ripped out the check and handed it over.
Nicole hesitated, then finally took it. “What are you saying?”
“I needed to pay you, but I could have mailed the check to your business address. I asked you to come here because my grandson is pining away for you. All that trouble to get you two together and look at you.”
Nicole’s mouth dropped open, and she glanced at Reg.
“Maybe we should go somewhere to talk in private,” he said.
“Maybe we should.” Nicole hesitated, and then finally stood, the picture of discomfort.
Reg led her outside and down rocky steps to the shore, needing the roar of the waves crashing against the rocks, and the sea spray droplets wetting his skin. Standing here with Nicole, he never felt more alive. He prayed he could capture this forever. Somehow. And hold onto this memory forever, and maybe . . . just maybe make new ones.
“I wouldn’t want to risk Grandmother listening in on our conversation. Again.” He laughed for her sake. The truth was, he didn’t want to risk Nicole easily escaping him. Not this time.
She lingered on the next to last step, confusion in her beautiful features. Reg hoped to clear that up for her and he pulled her into his arms and down to the sand. He was risking his heart, laying it all out there. Something he vowed never again to do with her, but it was either that or wonder what might have been.
“I missed you.” He kissed her gently at first. His heart ached for her, and when she responded, he knew he hadn’t made a mistake. Sea spray dowsed them, but he held her in place and laughed as he pressed his forehead against hers and looked in her eyes.
Her smile was gorgeous and enticing.
“I love you, Nicole. I need to know how you feel.”
Unshed tears surged in her eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Tell me that you don’t love me.”
“I do, Reg. I’ve always loved you. I regret that I let you go before, but I had to find my father’s murderer. I hurt you. I hurt us. I can’t let that happen again.”
“Then don’t let it happen again, Nicole. Stay with me. When I lost memories, I lost a part of me. I realized how important every moment is in this life. It’s important to just be in the moment. But I don’t want to have only memories with you, Nicole. I want to live in the moment with you and make new memories . . . with you. Will you marry me?”
The dread in her eyes transformed into a smile to match her lips. She nodded. “I never should have let you go the first time, and if you’ll give me—give us—another chance, I want that chance with you.”
She reached up and kissed him again.
A Note from Elizabeth Goddard
Dear Reader,
* * *
I hope you enjoyed Collision Course, Book 1 in my new Dangerous Horizons series. I have at least three more books planned for the series and I hope you’ll join me for the ride! On the final pages of this boxed set collection, you’ll find a short bio and how you can connect with me, including signing up for my newsletter to receive news about the next books in this series as well as other of my series. Or you can learn more about my books at my website, ElizabethGoddard.com.
In the meantime, I would so appreciate it if you would leave a review for Collision Course as part of the Dangerous Deceptions boxed set. We often learn about our next read from word-of-mouth recommendations or written reviews. Also, leaving a review is a great way to help an author.
You don’t want to miss out on what comes next in this collection. Robin Patchen has penned an incredible romantic suspense story with Glimmer in the Darkness. Here’s a brief description. When Cassidy learns another child has been kidnapped from her hometown, she's convinced the man who took the girl she’d been babysitting seven years earlier is behind the recent abductions. She alone holds the key to finding him. Though James blames Cassidy for his sister’s death, he’ll help if there’s a chance to save a child’s life. Can Cassidy and James identify the serial killer in time to rescue his latest victim?
Get ready for another great read and turn the page to start Glimmer in the Darkness by Robin Patchen.
* * *
Elizabeth Goddard
Glimmer in the Darkness
Coventry Saga Book 1
by Robin Patchen
Copyright © 2020 by Robin Patchen
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover designed by Lynnette Bonner
For Connie.
I didn’t know when I married your son what a treasure you would become to me. May the Lord bless you as much as you’ve blessed me and all the people who are fortunate enough to call you friend.
Chapter One
My name is Ella, and I am precious.
No matter what anybody said, Ella Cote knew who she was. Daddy had said so.
She lay curled on the thin pad, thumb in her mouth like when she was a baby. She closed her eyes because, even though it was dark then, it was less scary than when they were open and everything was still dark.
The howling outside the cave sounded like those wild dogs she saw in movies, the kinds that snatched away pets and little kids and ate them up.
T
he wind. It’s only the wind.
Owls had been hoot-hooting. Now, other birds were tweeting to each other, probably saying to go back to sleep ’cause it was still dark.
Inside the cave, crickets had chirped all night long. They sang to her after the sun went down. They kept her company when she was alone. The crickets were her friends. Like Jiminy Cricket, only they didn’t dance.
Being alone with the crickets was better.
Her forehead and knees were pressed against the cold stone wall beside her. She’d scooted as close as she could, but the man had only scooted with her, his heavy arm wrapped over her middle. His hand on her tummy. His front against her back. He was hot and sweaty and smelled like Daddy after a workout, except not good and comfortable. This man smelled like something yucky, like onions and green beans and old fish.
She wanted Daddy.
The man’s breath blew against the back of her head.
She wanted her soft bed and her stuffed animals and her daddy to kiss her and tell her she was precious. Tell her she was worth more than all the diamonds and all the rubies and all the emeralds in all the world. Tell her he wouldn’t trade her for ten bazillion dollars.
Tears fell into her hair and onto the skinny blanket beneath her, but Ella didn’t wipe them. She didn’t dare move.
Finally, light glowed beyond her closed eyelids. Morning again. Maybe today, Daddy would come for her.
Please, God. I wanna go home.
Chapter Two
Cassidy Leblanc kept her head down as she drove through downtown Coventry. This was the third day in a row she’d made this drive, but today, instead of normal traffic near the municipal building, a crowd had gathered in front. Traffic slowed to a stop as drivers and passengers gaped at the spectacle—Reid Cote and four older people, probably the missing little girl’s grandparents. Together, they were a display of grief and terror.
