Chance Encounter

by Christy Reece

  Grabbing the small stack, she headed up to her bedroom. She would read them in bed and then hopefully fall asleep watching television. Who would suspect that one of the top models in the country went to bed alone, often before nine o’clock, and always made sure the television was tuned to something old and comforting? The only thing edgy about Kacie Dane was the clothes she modeled. Everything else was boringly normal.

  Barefoot, dressed in her favorite cotton pajamas, her hair pulled back in a haphazard ponytail, she knew she looked less like a model and more like the girl next door. Though much of her appeal as a model was her all-American wholesome girl persona, few people had ever seen her this dressed down. Anyone who saw her this way saw the real person behind the fake life, and only a handful of people were trusted with her secrets.

  She pulled back the comforter and sheets and then propped up three of the six pillows against the headboard. Settling back, she clicked the remote till she found a Friends rerun and then picked up the pages. Kacie scribbled her answers beneath each message, the soft sounds of laughter from the television a soothing background noise. Her head sank into the pillows as her eyes drifted shut. Myriad colors swirled around her—light, opaque, soothing, then darker colors emerged—thick, evil, vile—as she dived deep, then deeper into her nightmare.

  “Hello, my little jewel.”

  Kacie gasped and tried to raise her head. She couldn’t move. She was frozen in place, literally. Her body felt like ice. She was cold and so weak she couldn’t work up enough energy to shiver. He had drugged her again. The food she’d eaten, tainted. But if she didn’t eat, she would starve.

  “Why?” She wanted to scream the word, wanted that small knot of anger lurking inside her mind to force her body up to fight this bastard. Instead of shouting, her words came out on a sigh that sounded breathless...easy.

  “Because you’re mine…all mine. I shall enjoy you over and over again.”

  “Cold,” she whimpered softly. “So cold.”

  “Let me warm you.” Large hands, hot and slightly damp, roamed her body. Despite the disgust her blurred mind told her she should feel, she relished the warmth, whimpered her pleasure.

  “That’s my girl. My precious jewel.”

  “Noooooo!” Kacie shot up in bed.

  The lights were on, the television still playing. She drew her legs up, shivering. The nightmares were less frequent than they had been, but sometimes, when her guard was completely down or she was stressed, they would slash at her like a machete.

  Taking a long swallow from the bottle of spring water she’d placed on her nightstand, she drew in a trembling breath. She was fine. She had survived. She had overcome and triumphed. Nothing could hurt her…he couldn’t hurt her. William Harrington III was dead—she’d seen the evidence with her own eyes.

  She took in another breath, willing her muscles to relax, her mind to let go of the fear and remembered pain. Leaning back onto the pillows, determined to forget, she picked up another email printout and read:

  Hello, my precious jewel.

  Jonesborough, Tennessee

  Skylar Maddox dropped a soft kiss onto her sleeping daughter’s forehead, wishing once again she could stop time. Megan James Maddox was growing up faster than Skylar could ever believe. It seemed like only a few days ago she and Gabe were bringing her home from the hospital, and now she was almost three years old. Where had the time gone?

  “She still awake?”

  Her heart leaping in joy, Skylar turned to her husband, who stood at the door. “Hey, you. I didn’t think you’d be here until tomorrow.”

  “I took a commercial flight. Shea and Ethan went to Paris to meet with Jordan and Eden on a case. I wanted to get back to you as soon as possible.”

  Skylar held out her hand, relieved as always at the safe return of her husband. She loved that Gabe was an operative for Last Chance Rescue and saved kidnapped victims all over the world. But when he was on an op, not a day went by that she didn’t worry. She knew all too well how quickly happiness could be snatched from a life. She and Gabe had gone through hell to get to their happy ending, and she would never take it for granted.

  “She woke up and wanted a sip of water. She just went under again. Come kiss her good night.”

  Her pulse rose as the gorgeous man who was her husband strode toward her. How was it possible that he was even sexier than he’d been thirteen years ago when she’d first met him? Everything about him was harder, tougher, and as he moved across the room like a sleek leopard on the prowl, her pulse spiked. The sensual gleam in his dark eyes said that he knew exactly the kind of effect he was having on her.

  Taking her hand, he pulled her into his arms for a deep, devouring kiss. Skylar wrapped her arms around the love of her life and welcomed him home.

  His breath elevated, Gabe breathed against her mouth. “I’ve missed these lips.”

  “Oh yeah?” She leaned back in his arms and smiled up at him. “Then I’ll just have to make sure you get reacquainted with them tonight.”

  His lips traveled down her face, to her neck and then her shoulders as his hands delved beneath her blouse. “Hmm. There are several other places I missed, too.”

  She shivered her delight as his large, callused hands explored. “Why don’t you show me which ones you missed the most, and I’ll make sure you get reacquainted with all of them.”

  “Sounds like heaven to me.” He stopped and moved his gaze to their daughter. “How’s my angel been?”

  “Missing her daddy madly. She picked up three books from the bookstore today that she insisted you have to read to her the moment you’re home.”

  He grinned his delight. “Something else to look forward to. I’ll get my voices in tune.”

  Skylar laughed softly. One of the many reasons she loved her husband was the phenomenal father he’d become. He doted on Megan, and every night he was home, they had two hours of uninterrupted father-daughter time.

  “She’ll be thrilled. I—”

  The cellphone in her pocket chimed a familiar ring tone. Ordinarily, she might have ignored it, but it had been almost a week since she’d talked to Kacie.

  “Why don’t you go chat with Kacie for a few minutes?” Gabe said. “I’ll tuck Megan in and grab a shower.” He dropped a quick kiss on her mouth. “Meet you in the bedroom in half an hour?”

  Anticipation zipped up her spine. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Maddox.”

  As she left the bedroom, she pulled her phone from her pocket and hit the answer key. “Hey, sweetie. I was going to call you tomorrow.” Skylar jerked to a stop at the sound of a heartbreaking sob. “Kacie? What’s wrong?”

  Oh heavens, she couldn’t believe she was losing it so quickly. A part of her was appalled at the ugly sounds coming from her mouth. She had to get herself together.

  “Kacie? Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Skylar was now sounding frantic. Kacie swallowed her fear and said, “I got a letter from him.”

  “A letter from whom?”

  “William Harrington.”

  “No, baby. That monster is dead. He can’t hurt you.”

  Kacie stared down at the paper with the vile words printed on them. “I have an email in my hands that says different.”

  “What does it say?”

  “It says, ‘Hello, my precious jewel. I’ve missed you, and I’ll see you soon.’”

  “Someone’s playing a cruel prank on you, Kacie. The man is dead. I promise.”

  “Who would know, Skylar? Only a few people have that information. And even fewer know what he called me. None of them would do this.”

  “I don’t know, sweetie, but we’ll find out.” She heard whispering in the background, and then Skylar said, “Gabe wants to talk to you. Hold on.”

  “Hey, Kacie.” Gabe’s calm, gruff voice was reassuringly soothing. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  She explained about the fan mail she received each day in the form of letters, emails, and social-media
comments and how Molly gave her copies of the messages she felt Kacie should see.

  “Is there an originating email address?”

  Feeling foolish for not checking already, her eyes searched the printout. The instant she saw the address, her blood chilled further. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

  “What?” Gabe barked.

  Almost hyperventilating, Kacie answered in a hoarse whisper, “It’s HeIsComingForYou@gmail.com.”

  “Give me your email account information and password. LCR tech people should be able trace the IP address to see where and who it came from.”

  She quickly rattled off her email account information and password.

  “Got it. Now. Is this the first time you’ve received something like this?”

  “Yes. Well…I’ve had a few nasty messages over the last year or so, but nothing that would remotely indicate it was related to Harrington.”

  “You still have copies of them?”

  “Yes. Molly keeps them on file.”

  “Okay. We’ll want to see them. Anything else?”

  Kacie closed her eyes as a fresh wave of tears hit. “Yes…maybe. Probably. I just don’t know.”

  “What?”

  “I was in the park today, by myself. Some guys knocked me down and then chanted over and over again, ‘He’s coming for you.’”

  “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

  “I’m fine. The whole thing lasted only about ten or fifteen seconds. Almost by the time I realized what was happening, they were gone.”

  “Did you get a good look at them?”

  “No. Not really. It happened so fast. They all wore sunglasses and helmets. I think they were young, though. They were on Rollerblades.”

  “Witnesses?”

  “An elderly couple, but neither of them had a good description. They said they were concentrating on me, that the guys were gone before they realized what was happening.”

  “You called the cops?”

  “Yes. They said they figured it was some kind of weird street theater.”

  “Anything else?”

  She felt stupid for bringing it up, but it had freaked her out, so… “Yes. My foundation had an event tonight.” She swallowed, suddenly feeling foolish for what she was about to say.

  “Tell me, Kacie.”

  “I swear I heard him laugh. It was this distinctive high-pitched kind of laughter. I hear it in my dreams sometimes, and I—” She shoved a hand through her hair. “I don’t know, Gabe. Maybe it’s nothing…but still.”

  “It’s best to be safe. Listen, I know your apartment has good security, but double-check your doors and windows. Skylar and I will be there as soon as we can.”

  Guilt made her protest. “Oh no, Gabe, I’m sure it’s—”

  “No arguing. It’s been too long since we’ve seen you anyway. I’ll call as soon as we know when we’ll arrive.”

  “Thank you, Gabe. I’m sure I’m just overreacting, and I’m sorry for—”

  “Let me stop you there. Do not apologize. Anybody would be freaked out by this. You’re family. Understand? And we take care of our own. Got it?”

  Grateful tears filled her eyes. “I love you guys.”

  “Try to get some sleep, and we’ll see you soon.”

  “Okay, good night. And thanks again.”

  Kacie dropped her phone onto the bed and jumped up. She agreed with Gabe that her apartment building security was top-notch. Not only did most visitors have to sign in and be announced to get to any of the apartments, there was a security guard at each entrance. The building housed several well-known celebrities, and though the rent was astronomical, the added security was well worth the price.

  Still, it didn’t hurt to be extra cautious. She double-checked her front door, noting both deadbolts were secure. She lived on the sixteenth floor, but she had a balcony that looked out over a small park. It had never occurred to her that anyone would try to access her home from such a height, but she supposed the balconies on either side of her could be used to gain access. Although someone would have to be an acrobat, or insane, to try.

  Still, she would take no chances. She checked the sliding glass doors as well as all the windows. Everything was locked, secure and tight.

  Feeling slightly safer, she went back to the kitchen, poured herself another glass of milk, and traveled back up to her bedroom. Sleeping would most likely be impossible tonight. She settled back onto her bed pillows, sipped her milk, and stared at the email. She didn’t know which scared her the most, the words in the email—Hello, my precious jewel—or the words used in the email address: He is coming for you. Just like those voices in the park.

  Harrington was dead. After her rescue, she’d been hurting beyond belief and as weak as an infant, but she’d had one request. No one had been able to talk her out of it. She had wanted to see the bastard’s body. She had to make sure—one hundred percent sure—that he was dead.

  She had stood in the morgue and looked down at the cold, lifeless corpse. He had been a disgusting piece of humanity, but she had wished at that moment that he would come back alive. She had wanted to tell him exactly what she thought of him, then she’d wanted to be the one to kill him.

  William Harrington was burning in hell. That was one thing she knew for certain.

  So was this someone’s idea of a sick joke? Possibly a blackmail attempt?

  Who knew that Kendra Carson and Kacie Dane were the same person? And what more did this person intend to do with that information?

  Chapter Five

  Alexandria, Virginia

  With the calculated eyes of a man who knew more than his share about human nature, Noah McCall carefully assessed the man across from him. Most times when he was considering bringing on a new operative, he had to dig for information. Spilling one’s guts took courage, but when interviewing for an LCR position, it was often a necessary evil. Noah didn’t hire people he couldn’t trust. And though he couldn’t say he always knew everything about everyone he brought into LCR, he knew enough to feel confident about his decision. He’d made the wrong choice only a couple of times. Both had cost him. He didn’t intend to ever be wrong again.

  Brennan Sinclair was somewhat different from the usual prospective operative. Noah knew everything about the man. Hard not to know when Sinclair’s story had been splashed all over newspapers and magazines for what seemed like months on end. Television news reports had devoted hours of airtime dissecting the man’s life, revealing his most intimate secrets for all the world to see and judge.

  And, oh hell, had they judged him.

  Because of the man’s history and what he had endured, Noah wasn’t going to ask the usual questions. He knew exactly why Brennan Sinclair wanted to work for LCR. Knew the man was more than qualified. And even though Noah had decided to offer Sinclair a job before meeting him, he had his doubts that the man would accept once he heard about his first assignment.

  “Tell me about yourself, Sinclair.”

  “I’ve got the skills and training. I’ve got the field time. Numerous successful rescues.”

  Sinclair spoke with confidence, edging on cockiness. Noah fought a smile. He liked cocky…especially when it could be backed up with irrefutable proof.

  “Justin Kelly speaks highly of you. And your skills are impressive. While that’s important, I need something more.”

  “Like what?”

  Noah held back a sigh. Just because he was used to cutting open emotional wounds and then cauterizing them didn’t mean he enjoyed the process. He liked kicking the asses of evil people and returning kidnapped victims to their loved ones. He took no pleasure in hurting one of the good guys. And despite his concerns, Noah knew Brennan Sinclair was one of them.

  As the leader of LCR, Noah had two well-defined priorities for the organization—his employees and the victims they rescued. Meaning he had no choice sometimes but to slice open a life and encourage the spilling of guts.

  The first slice was always the bigges
t surprise. Noah made the jab quick and clean. “Your son, Cody. Tell me about him.”

  Sinclair couldn’t control the flinch of pain. Yeah. Low blows always snuck up on you, stealing your breath and often choking the very air from your body. Just because Noah didn’t enjoy the process didn’t mean he wouldn’t take on the deed.

  His jaw clenched tight, Sinclair asked, “What do you want to know?”

  Second slice was merely a nick. “You blame yourself?”

  A stiff-necked nod was Sinclair’s reply.

  Third one went a bit deeper. “Why? You weren’t even around when he was taken.”

  Sinclair’s green eyes went to shards of hard jade. “And that’s exactly why, McCall. I wasn’t there for him. I was his dad…I was supposed to protect him. Instead, I was—” Sinclair shook his head. “I was a lousy father.”

  Noah eased back on the knife, giving Sinclair a little breathing room. “You weren’t still at the rehab center, were you? By that time, you were back home, had recovered from your injury?”

  “Yes. My rehab was over.”

  “You were on disability but still with the Jets, right? Quarterback?”

  If a jaw could be made from granite, Brennan Sinclair’s would make the perfect specimen. The man didn’t bother to hide his contempt. “Can’t say much for your research skills, McCall, if you have to ask questions that a two-year-old could find the answers to.”

  Ignoring the man’s uncensored jab, Noah said, “And where were your wife and son? They lived in the same house with you?”

  “Of course they lived with me. They were supposed to be out of town.” He added with a trace of bitter sarcasm, “At Vanessa’s parents’ house.”

  “And instead they were where?”

  “Still in the city.”

  “Odd that you would take on the guilt when someone you loved and trusted lied to you.”