Good riddance.
Think, I need to think. How did he fix this? What other Egyptian animal or symbol could he make from the ice?
A bigger problem stared him in the face. How did he fix the dilemma of Casey being stuck in the middle of his undercover assignment? Stuck in the middle of his heart?
Was she in the predicament because he’d agreed to the initial interview when all he’d meant to do was keep her safe? What a moron he’d been. Would she be clear of any danger where Carlos or someone in the crime ring was concerned once the competition was done, and her article finished?
All along, Jesse had questioned what Casey had done to generate the sort of attention she was getting. The SUV that had nearly struck her, the man outside the studio—the incidents were unconfirmed as attempts on her life, but forensics took much longer than an hour as portrayed on television. Regardless, Jesse didn’t need confirmation to know Casey was in danger. And now, he had his question answered. Carlos thought she’d overheard an important conversation.
Now Jesse had a new question—why was Casey still alive?
To keep her that way she was going to need to cooperate, which meant she shouldn’t be wandering far. His gaze traveled through the crowd of families with children, couples, teenagers, gangster types, the works, searching for any sign of Casey. That’s when he saw him.
Knife Guy.
Jesse had thought of him as the parking-lot guy until he had pulled that knife on him.
He was dressed differently—no hooded sweatshirt and tough-guy look. Instead he wore nice slacks and a baseball cap, but Jesse would never forget that face. What was he doing here?
Jesse’s pulse thrummed in his neck, drowning out all other sounds.
He hopped over the rope and made his way through the crowd. The man disappeared behind a display. Had he seen Jesse and was now trying to hide? Was he here for Casey?
Desperate, Jesse pressed through the throng, looking for Knife Guy, looking for Casey. Someone stumbled into Jesse—or was it the other way around? He couldn’t be certain.
He whirled around. “Excuse me.”
Then he spotted Knife Guy, standing next to what looked to be a seven-hundred-pound sculpture of Seattle’s Space Needle. It rose loftily above the crowd, and it appeared dangerously top heavy.
Jesse gritted his teeth. What had the sculptor been thinking?
Casey stood frozen on the opposite side of the sculpture, staring directly at Jesse. Alarm sprang from her eyes.
Instantly, the hair on his arms and neck stood up.
Screams erupted around him. The icy space needle began swaying. In slow motion, the needle began toppling.
Casey was directly in its path.
A third of a ton of ice could crush her.
“Noooooooo! Casey!”
Jesse flew over the markers, shoved people aside and propelled himself forward, slamming against Casey, pushing her out of harm’s way.
The sculpture crashed, sending chunks of ice splaying, and sliding mere inches from where Jesse and Casey lay sprawled on the cold floor.
Jesse covered Casey with his body, protecting her. He hoped he hadn’t crushed her himself.
When it was over, Jesse continued to hold her, wishing he could protect her forever.
* * *
Casey sucked in air. Her breath had been knocked from her. She groaned, and opening her eyes, saw people gathering around, staring down at her. Some faces frowned, others bore concerned expressions, and still others held open curiosity.
The ache of being thrown to the floor slowly dissipating, she turned her head to the side, only now comprehending that Jesse was speaking to her. That he hovered near like a protective wall.
He peered at her, worry lining his face. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Sure, but how did you…” Casey pushed herself up on her elbows. “Jesse, did you see him? The man from the parking lot?”
He nodded and climbed to his feet, then offered his hand.
She took it, allowing him to assist her up. “That can’t be a coincidence. It just can’t be.” Trying to hide her trembling, Casey wrapped her arms around herself. Security guards arrived, along with the hotel manager—a suited man in his late thirties—and the event coordinator—a young woman dressed professionally in a dark gray suit.
Everyone seemed to be speaking to Casey at the same time, the questions clouding her thoughts.
“What happened here?”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“Where is the sculptor?”
“Which exhibit was this?”
But their questions accosted her from behind tunnel vision. She squeezed her eyes and rubbed them.
“Ma’am, do you want to file a complaint?”
Casey frowned, unable to respond at the moment. She was still trying to come to grips with what had just happened.
Others answered the questions for her, several explaining that the space needle had fallen over, crashing to the ground. No one said anything about someone pushing it. No one explained that someone had tried to kill her.
Could she simply have imagined seeing the guy from the parking lot lean against the sculpture?
“Can you just give her a minute?” Jesse once again stepped up to the task of shielding her and tugged her away from the chaos into a quiet corner.
Casey was too dazed to consider her responses.
Jesse grabbed her elbow and directed her away from the center of attention, through the growing crowd that pressed into—although security guards were now conducting crowd control—and outside the hotel.
She leaned against him as he guided her, feeling her knees wobble beneath her. “How can you be so strong after what just happened?”
“Because I have to be.”
Once at her car, Jesse held out his hand. “Keys?”
“What do you need those for?”
“To unlock your door. You’re going home.”
Casey was stunned. “But what about my article?”
“You’ve got what you need, don’t you?”
“I…uh…”
“Go home, lock the doors and write your story. You’ll be safe at home, don’t worry.”
“Oh, yeah? What about my uncle’s friend and the other intruder who broke in for some reason?”
“The first guy had the code, and the other guy got in because you hadn’t armed the system.”
Suddenly, Casey’s knees gave out, but Jesse caught her against him. He held her tight and stroked her hair. “Maybe I should drive you home.”
“No, Jesse. I’ve done enough to disrupt your day. But aren’t you going to tell me I should call the police?”
“Definitely, you should file a report about what happened today. I just don’t think it’s safe for you to do it here, that’s all.”
“But did you hear the others? No one said anything about seeing someone push over the sculpture.”
“Someone saw it.”
“Did you?”
“I saw Knife Guy standing next to the sculpture, that’s enough.”
“Knife Guy?”
“It’s a long story. I’m just surprised no one was hurt.”
Casey sighed and eased away from him. “Thank you, Jesse.”
“You’re welcome.” His smile was tender, caring. “I’ll call a friend to meet you at your house and check it out for you. I’ve got something to take care of.”
What could that be? “You’re not going to try to find him, are you?” Now there was a story—that is, on any other day. Exhaustion seemed to infuse her very being.
Jesse didn’t respond. Instead he unlocked her car door and opened it for her.
“So that’s it. No goodbye kiss?”
He jammed his hands in his front hoodie pocket instead of putting them around her where they should be, then he leaned in to kiss her, gently. It was as if she could feel how much he was holding back. In those few seconds, she sensed how he felt about her. There was so much more than sim
ple attraction, but fear eclipsed anything between them.
A noise disrupted their kiss, and Jesse stiffened then scanned the parking lot. When his gaze returned to her, apprehension replaced any other emotion she’d hoped to see there.
“You did it, Jesse. You saved me today.”
“Barely. You shouldn’t have left my side. Casey, until I know more about Knife Guy, do not come to the ice company and don’t contact me.” His stern expression didn’t do anything to calm her fears. “I’ll call you.”
Though she wanted to ask a hundred questions, Casey slid into her car and locked the door then started the engine. Jesse waited and watched as she drove from the parking lot.
Lord, thank You for sending him. Please keep him safe.
Indecision clawed at her. She wasn’t sure what to do now. The strong sense that she should run again, find somewhere else to hide, wouldn’t let go. But where? And to whom? There wasn’t another Jesse Dufour in the world, she was sure of that. With him was the only place she felt safe.
Heading away from the hotel, Casey wished she’d begged Jesse to come with her. Where else in this world could she live and feel safe? It was all too much. Tears slid down her cheeks. What had happened to her resolve to fight back, to fight Will Tannin?
To not let him get the best of her?
Her determination had been nothing more than an attempt to show herself strong, but she couldn’t back it up, and any strength she had was quickly crumbling inside. She reached over to dig in her bag for a tissue then realized she’d left something behind. Danny’s camera!
Probably dropped it in the tumble with the ice. She’d have to pay for it, which she couldn’t afford. Still, under the circumstances, wouldn’t Danny understand? Someone had tried to kill her—she couldn’t prove it, but she had her suspicions. And so did Jesse.
Jesse was still at the hotel. He could meet her in the parking lot and help her find the camera. Then she would head home.
She dialed him on her cell and predictably, she got his voice mail. Pulling back into the parking lot, she tried to call him again and left a message that she’d wait in her car for him. No way would she venture back into that crowd with the creepy Knife Guy roaming free.
When she had the opportunity, she’d try to discover if there was a connection between the guy Jesse called Knife Guy and Will, or…Knife Guy and Carlos.
There, she’d given herself permission to consider that possibility.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
After seeing Casey off, Jesse had made the phone call to McCoffey to report an escalation in the danger she was in and request additional backup. Eric was being pulled from whatever task had taken him from her side today, and was on his way to keep her under surveillance. The news relieved Jesse, allowing him to work on his second sculpture of the day.
Was it his imagination? Or had he drawn the largest crowd yet? He decided people wanted to see a man on fire and right now, Jesse was definitely landing blows on the ice.
He couldn’t afford to lose his sham of a job when his mission was so close to its culmination. With Casey safely out of harm’s way for the moment, he could focus on the task and then take care of the guilty parties.
Tonight, he’d make sure to pay Carlos a visit and tell him to pull his dog off, that is, after beating the guy to a pulp for his near-fatal threats on Casey. Who else could it be?
Will Tannin was far from Southern California.
He couldn’t recall being under this much stress for any assignment—covering the competition to keep his cover, while watching over Casey, while preparing for the takedown of the cash-smuggling ring to happen tomorrow night.
Miguel had passed him the date, time and delivery instructions, which he’d passed to his team for a fully coordinated effort involving several agencies.
Considering the pressure he was under, Jesse feared he was about to fold in on himself, and he worried he’d forgotten the smallest of details.
And that’s what got people killed.
By the end of the day, the crowd began to thin out. Jesse accepted that he’d not won, despite the job he’d done in the midst of chaos. When it came time to hang up his hat and move to another department within the agency, maybe he’d consider becoming an ice sculptor instead.
Yeah, right.
He almost smiled at the thought, but it was difficult to allow even the thinnest of grins under the circumstances. Still, he imagined himself in a completely different career, Casey by his side. Now that was enough to make him smile. If they could just make it through this, maybe they could have a future together.
That is, if Casey could ever forgive him once she found out the truth of his identity.
Miguel appeared in Jesse’s line of vision and stepped over the rope.
“I came back to see if you needed help loading your equipment or what remained of the sculptures.”
“Thanks, Miguel. I hadn’t thought ahead about clean-up, considering Ricky is sick. He planned that just right, didn’t he?”
Miguel lifted his chin. “Too much on your plate.”
“You could say that,” Jesse said.
He started cording his tools, wishing he didn’t have to clean the mess. He needed to find Knife Guy, and…he needed to hear Casey’s voice. He imagined her sitting in her living room and putting the final touches on the article, while Eric dutifully kept vigil over the house.
“Say, where’s your girlfriend? I figured she’d be stuck to you like glue.”
Did Miguel know about what happened? Was he in on the plan? Jesse nearly snarled at him. “I sent her home. I don’t suppose you know she was almost killed today. Someone pushed an ice sculpture over.”
By the look in Miguel’s eyes, Jesse knew the guy had no clue. “Jesse, I’m so sorry. Is she all right?”
Did he really not know what Carlos was capable of? “She won’t be all right until I get my hands on Carlos.” When Miguel had invited Jesse to be delivery boy, he’d warned him that Casey could be in danger. Jesse thought begging for Miguel’s help since Miguel knew he had a thing for Casey would be good enough. “Carlos has it out for her. He’s behind the guy in the parking lot and what happened today.”
Miguel held up his hand. “Now, hold on…”
“No, you hold on.” If Jesse kept talking, he might just talk himself right out of being Miguel’s delivery guy. He looked down at the floor, clenching his jaw. At least his reaction was in line with the criminal element, giving no indication he was under cover. “Listen, Miguel, you know I can’t stand by and watch her get hurt.”
“No one is asking you to. If someone so much as touched my Elena…” Miguel’s ire-filled words faded.
Jesse could only imagine the violent thoughts filling his mind.
“Do you need me to help you take her car to her then?” Miguel asked.
The chisel in Jesse’s hand slipped to the floor. Blood roared in his ears. “What did you say?”
Miguel stood frozen and unresponsive, his mouth open.
Jesse took a step toward him. “Tell me, Miguel. Where did you see her car?”
“Parked where she left it this morning, right next to the truck.”
Jesse hopped over the rope and ran through the displays now being broken down. He hurried through the exit and into the parking lot.
On the top of the steps from the hotel, he spotted his truck and right next to it Casey’s car.
Oh, no…
Casey, what did you do?
Jesse pressed his hand to his forehead and tugged his cell from his pocket. He had two calls from Casey, stating she’d come back to look for her camera. But she planned to wait for him in her car.
What a jerk he was.
He couldn’t hear or feel his phone because of using the chain saw. This case would be his last, for more reasons than one.
He dialed her cell and got no answer. The call went to voice mail. “Casey, call me back right now. Where are you?”
He tried again, and then agai
n. Then he called Eric. Man, did he have some words for him.
The guy didn’t reply…something had happened. Jesse knew it, felt it deep inside.
A growl escaped. He dialed McCoffey.
A text interrupted him mid-call. Casey’s number flashed on the caller ID.
Casey! Thank goodness….
He opened the text to read it.
* * *
Did you find the popsicle I left for you? It’s your favorite flavor.
* * *
Casey opened her eyes, aware of nothing more than a dull, pounding ache in her head.
What happened?
Where was she? She sat up and surveyed her surroundings, dimly lit by a fluorescent light in the far corner of the room. Her breath came out in big white puffs. She shivered.
Was she…in a freezer?
No…she couldn’t be…
But reality slammed her like an arctic blast. Somebody had left her in a freezer. Casey gripped a stainless-steel shelf to steady herself and stood up. Cold stung her fingers.
How long had she been here? Casey spotted the door and, fighting dizziness, made her way to it. She pressed the large L-shaped handle but it wouldn’t budge.
Locked. A panic-filled tremor snaked through her body.
How could she be locked in a freezer? Casey shook the handle then began pounding the door. “Help! Somebody help me!”
Then a serious question accosted her. How long did it take for someone to die from hypothermia? Freeze to death? Suffocate?
Casey focused, trying to remember the details of the article she’d once written about hypothermia. Hikers had been found alive after trying to climb Mt. Hood, but some had died on the mountain.
Of what little she knew, there were three stages of hypothermia. Right now, she was only shivering a little and her hands were numb, but she wasn’t confused and could move around.
That’s good news.
If she started having trouble moving and was unable to focus, then she should start worrying…
Who was she kidding?
She needed to worry now!
And the bad news? Temperatures in these freezers were below twenty degrees, according to Jesse. She’d spent enough time in the freezer with him to know she’d been here for a while, and without a real coat. All she had was her blazer. She just didn’t know how long she had—minutes or hours or days. There were too many variables.
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