Threat of Danger

by Dana Marton

  “And the boyfriend?” Pam went back to digging.

  “Eliot. Not boyfriend yet. We work together.”

  “Hot? On a scale of one to ten?”

  “It’s wrong to objectify men.”

  “So . . . a total dog?”

  Jess choked on her wine cooler, then coughed when some bubbles went up her nose. She laughed anyway. “No!”

  “Good in bed?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yet.”

  “Yet,” Jess agreed. She’d sent Eliot a bunch of pictures from her walk in the woods today, and they’d exchanged some texts, but they still hadn’t talked.

  “Does he know?”

  Pam didn’t have to spell out what. The attack.

  “Nobody in LA knows. Aunt Linda did, but she passed away. I mean, Eliot knows that I was assaulted, but not the details. I’m only famous in Taylorville and true crime enthusiast circles. LA has plenty of its own crime to fill the LA Times. In Taylorville, people know my story because the town is so small, and the Taylors are pretty well known.”

  “Didn’t he Google you?”

  “If he did, he didn’t go past the first page of results. The first dozen hits are my IMDb page, professional LinkedIn page, and the home pages of movies I’ve been in. He’s not the type to dig for gossip. At the time when he took me on, he was interested in my professional skills. He wouldn’t look for anything else.”

  They drank some more and talked some more—didn’t get to bed until well after midnight. Pam slept over.

  They didn’t exactly have a hangover in the morning, but they weren’t hippity-hoppity either. They padded down to breakfast in socked feet and with fuzzy brains at nearly ten.

  Zelda was in the kitchen, but she wasn’t alone. A man’s broad back greeted Jess as she walked in. The man turned.

  “Eliot!”

  Pam too snapped awake as Eliot stood, unfolding a lean body that showed what a brutal exercise regimen could make of a man. Exercise and truly superlative Italian genes. Jess could hear the catch in Pam’s breath next to her.

  Jess wasn’t breathing all that easily either. She stepped forward, then stopped, needing to process the idea of Eliot in her mother’s kitchen. Her worlds were colliding. Was she ready for this? “What are you doing here?”

  He moved in for a hug, then stepped back. “I thought I’d check on you.”

  He really did have a beautiful smile, fit for the silver screen. Eliot. Oh God, in Taylorville! Jess shoved her hands in her pockets. Then pulled them out again. She didn’t do nervous gestures. She was a kick-ass stuntwoman.

  It’s just Eliot. No matter what, Eliot wasn’t going to judge her for her past. Eliot was always on her side, one of the dozen things she loved about him.

  “I see you met Zelda.” Jess relaxed into his warm brown gaze. “This is Pam, an old friend.”

  “Vivacious young friend,” Pam corrected as she shook Eliot’s hand, maybe a second or two longer than necessary.

  “Breakfast?” Zelda offered from the stove. “I’m making pancakes and sausages. And bacon.”

  As they turned to the table, Pam mouthed behind Eliot’s back, If you don’t want him, can I have him?

  Jess drew her hand in front of her throat in a threatening gesture. I’ll cut your throat. They were both choking back a laugh as they sat.

  Breakfast was a merry affair with only slight overtones of awkward. Pam grilled Eliot on what celebrities he’d slept with. He made up some outrageous stories that had even Zelda in stitches. Miley Cyrus and a wrecking ball featured prominently.

  Pam had to leave after breakfast, which she did with the drama of someone going off to war. She taught a yoga class at the gym on Sundays.

  “Are you still leaving today?” she asked as Jess walked her to the door.

  “Probably not. I’ll see what Eliot’s plans are.” Eliot’s presence here changed a lot of things. She was still playing catch-up.

  After Pam left, Zelda strategically retreated upstairs, shooting Jess a wink behind Eliot’s back.

  Jess bit back a grin. She cleared her throat and faced Eliot as they stood in the threshold between the living room and the kitchen. In his yellow shirt, he was a little piece of California sunshine. “So. Here you are.”

  He watched her, not exactly wary, but not fully confident either. “Good surprise or bad surprise?”

  His gaze wouldn’t move from her, as if her response was important to him.

  She let the grin escape. “I’m glad you came.”

  And then he was smiling too, as if they’d shared a secret. Sure, they’d been friends for years. But they both knew that more than friendship had brought him here.

  “How about a walk? Show me around?”

  “Sure.”

  “I like the pictures you sent.” He scrolled through the images on his phone, settled on one, and showed it to her. “Can we go to these cliffs? I brought climbing gear.” Anticipation sparkled in his brown eyes. “Just in case.”

  Oh.

  Had he come for climbing? Not because he missed her? OK, so maybe it had been friendship that brought him. Jess brushed away the pang of disappointment. He was here. He had come. She was going to be glad, no matter what.

  After they got ready, she drove him to the end of the trail. They hoofed it from there, the air crisp, the temperature dropping. Snow tonight. Jess could smell it.

  “How is your mom?” Eliot asked.

  “Disappointed that I don’t want to stay forever.”

  “Good. Not that she’s disappointed, but that you’re not staying. I’m not giving you up.”

  Jess felt the lightness of the morning return. He had come for her.

  They walked in the back way so she could show him the river from the top of Tall Stack. The way they went, the climb was a moderate incline that ended in a sheer drop, the perfect lookout point.

  The wind whistled through the pines in the valley. Gravel rolled under their boots. A couple of crows made a ruckus in the trees.

  Eliot stopped to toe a metal grate in the ground, the grate the size of a manhole cover. “What’s this?”

  “One of the chimneys to Silver Cave. According to legend, when the first settlers arrived in the area, the Native Americans made their last stand from inside the cave. They were massacred to the last man, woman, and child. Rumors flew that they hid all their silver in the cave before they barricaded themselves inside. People have been digging in there since.”

  “That’s both seriously wrong and depressing.” He kept looking at the grate. “Anyone find anything?”

  “Death. Four or five treasure hunters died in various accidents. Then some idiot had the brilliant idea to use dynamite. The cave is no longer stable. Everybody says it’s cursed.”

  “I’d like to check it out.”

  “I’ve only been inside once,” she said, “on a dare. It’s been closed to the public for about eleven years now.”

  When the Versquatchers began investigating it for signs of sasquatch habitation, one of them fell down the hundred-foot chimney and broke his neck. Park service put a metal grate on all three entrances and padlocked them. No admittance.

  The accident had happened during the summer of Jess’s junior year in high school. She remembered it because Derek was in the journalism club and wrote the article on the tragedy, and Jess, of course, read every word.

  Eliot lit up at the thought of a cave that had been sealed for more than a decade. He looked irresistible with that boyishly eager excitement on his face. “You think I could apply for a permit to get in?”

  If the person handing out the permits is a woman, no problem. “You could try,” she said. “Short Stack has a chimney too. The main entrance to the cave is to the south, at the foot of the rock base. All locked up, same as this one.”

  He toed the grate once again with his boots. “It’s pretty rusty. Somebody heavy enough jumps on the bars, they might fall through. Not too safe.”

  He always thought
of safety first, in every situation, which made him an excellent stunt coordinator. Jess, for one, appreciated that he was a stickler for protecting his team.

  “I’ll tell Chuck. He’ll know who to call.”

  “Chuck?”

  “The foreman at the farm. He runs things now.”

  With a last wistful look at the blocked cave entrance, Eliot moved on.

  Jess followed after him, all the way to the edge of the cliff, to look at the hundred-foot drop below them. Eliot took her hand as he scanned the view, the river gorge and treed hills. He snapped some pictures with his phone. Grinned at her.

  “It’ll make the guys back home cry with envy.”

  After he posted his best photo on Instagram, he turned to Jess and claimed both of her hands, focused on her face. “I’d like to stay a couple of days, if that’s OK.”

  “Yes.” That easily, her plan to return to LA was set aside.

  His gaze swept the vista, then returned to her. “You know I’ve been thinking about a training camp. Somewhere I can take the team between movies. A place to practice, to teach new recruits the ropes. Someplace quiet and private where spectators wouldn’t be a distraction.”

  She nodded, hyperaware of her hands in his. For as long as she’d known Eliot, his own training camp had been his dream. Someplace where he could set up everything the way he wanted, instead of using whatever was available at the places he rented.

  “I think this might be it,” he said. “We could do some pretty good high jumps from these cliffs. I have some new equipment from Switzerland I want to test.”

  Like every other stunt coordinator, he was always looking to make stunts bigger and safer.

  He tilted his head. “You think I can talk the owner into selling me some land? You know who owns this? Tell me it’s not a national park or something.”

  She grinned. “It’s Taylor land on the other side of the river.”

  He grinned back—that easy, sexy grin she loved so much. “You think your mother would sell?”

  The whole farm, no. But a few acres out here? A week ago, Jess would have said no to that too, but her mother had sold a couple of acres to Principal Crane. “Maybe.”

  A teasing light came into Eliot’s eyes. “I need some tips on how to make her like me.”

  “You can come to the hospital with me and talk to her. Praise her maple syrup. Tell her it’s the sweetest you’ve ever tasted.”

  Eliot kept smiling as he leaned toward Jess and brushed his lips over hers. “Maybe second sweetest,” he murmured. “I think I have the sweetest right here.”

  This was it, what Jess wanted, but before she could let herself relax into the moment, movement caught her eye down by the river. She pulled back to look. Derek was walking on the riverbank, with another long stick, rooting in last year’s mud and fallen leaves. Almost as if he was looking for something. Maybe he’d lost his phone down there yesterday.

  Eliot drew Jess closer. “Who’s that?”

  “Our neighbor. Derek Daley.”

  “Old friend?” Eliot asked, and then he suddenly stilled, incredulity in his voice as he added, “The author?”

  She nodded.

  Stunned silence. But only for a moment. “No kidding?” Another moment of mute surprise before he said, “I’ve read all his books. You think I could meet him while I’m here?”

  Really? Dammit. How has this not come up before?

  She had no idea what authors Eliot read. They were mostly together at work, and they usually talked about stunts and equipment, training and safety. And, of course, movies.

  She couldn’t say no without explaining, so she said, “Sure.”

  She would have smiled at Eliot’s sudden kid-meeting-Santa reaction if she wasn’t so aggravated. The one thing she’d been most determined to do was avoid Derek. How could it be so damned impossible?

  She watched him for a few seconds. He cut a solitary figure. She pictured him over at his place, alone at his parents’ farmhouse like a cursed prince in his tower. He didn’t run the sugaring at his parents’ farm. All he needed for his work was a computer. He could live anywhere in the world. Why didn’t he move to New York or London to feed off the creative energy like other famous authors? What was Derek doing in the backwoods of Vermont?

  Not something Jess needed to think about right now. She didn’t want to think about Derek at all. She focused on Eliot. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  She tilted up her lips to his, and he brushed them again. The light kiss felt comfortable, easy. Being in Taylorville wasn’t going to taint Eliot. The meeting of Jess’s present and her past didn’t have to be a disaster. Having Eliot here was good. Eliot was on her side. Eliot grounded her.

  He was watching her with such a lovely smile.

  She wanted to tell him about her past. If they were going to have a relationship, she shouldn’t have secrets from him. And this was a good place to tell him.

  She opened her mouth . . . then closed it again.

  His arms loosened around her. “Is this OK?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t want him to think she was having second thoughts. She wanted this—something right and natural and easy with him.

  I need to tell you something.

  One second ticked by, then another and another. No more movement below. Derek was gone.

  She filled her lungs. “Do you want to walk down to the river?”

  “Which river is it?”

  “The Lamoille.”

  “Right. Sure.” But he didn’t move. “Looks like a good place to practice water stunts.”

  Unease seeped into her muscles. “It’s not as tame as it looks. A high school girl drowned in it last week. Hannah Wilson.”

  “How?”

  “Her car went off the bridge.”

  He gave a somber nod. “Key is to climb out the window before the car goes under. Once you’re under the surface, with water rushing in and pushing you back, it’s much harder to get out.”

  Being trapped in a car underwater was one stunt Jess hadn’t done yet, and she had no wish to attempt it.

  She watched Eliot as he watched the river. He was probably thinking about all the stunts he wanted to try.

  She would tell him about her past in the car as they drove back to the house. And, after lunch, she would take him to meet her mother. Maybe he would buy a couple of acres of Taylor land. Then Jess would come back here with the team for training a couple of times a year. That’d be nice. As long as her team was with her, it’d be doable. She could visit with Pam. And Zelda and Chuck and Kaylee.

  And her mother . . . and her mother’s boyfriend. She was going to have to get used to the thought. Her mother had every right to live her life any way she wanted. And Jess was an adult, not a petulant child. She had to accept her mother’s choices.

  After ten long years, feeling that she had a family again threw her off balance. To steady herself, she slipped her arms around Eliot’s neck and pressed her lips back to his. This time, he deepened the kiss.

  Jess closed her eyes. But for some reason, she couldn’t close out the images of Derek, searching the riverbank.

  Hannah Wilson huddled in the dark, freezing. She was alone. The man was gone, but Hannah couldn’t escape. She was chained with a metal chain and a padlock she couldn’t open. She was so hungry, she was dizzy.

  She couldn’t run. And nobody would find her here. Nobody was even looking. The newspaper the man had brought her yesterday lay crumpled under her knees. He’d made her read the article with his flashlight. The police had found a partially decomposed body in the river, and everybody thought it was her.

  She didn’t cry, but only because she had no tears left. Instead, Hannah prayed that she would freeze to death before the man came back.

  Chapter Ten

  AS FAR AS Jess was concerned, dinner could not end soon enough. Eliot and Derek in the house at the same time was an incredibly bad idea.

  Zelda made barbecue ribs in the slow cooker. Eliot,
who normally ate a carefully balanced, healthy diet, moaned in pleasure and went for seconds.

  “Miss Zelda, this meal is a miracle.”

  “My secret ingredient is maple syrup.” Zelda flashed a coquettish smile.

  All women had that reaction to Eliot. Jess refrained from rolling her eyes.

  “Zelda, if you ever decide to marry,” Derek said, not to be outdone, “I’ll fight Chuck for your hand.”

  Zelda swatted his shoulder with the dishcloth, but giggled like a young girl. She had invited Derek over the second she heard that Eliot wanted to meet the author of his favorite books.

  “Hey.” Eliot patted Jess’s hand on the table. “This is really nice. You should have told me to come sooner.”

  Derek shot Eliot a dark look, then casually moved his arm to rest on the back of Jess’s chair. “Thanks for having me for dinner.”

  Jess was ready to jump out of her skin. Throw her out of a helicopter . . . she could handle that. Set her on fire . . . fine. But she wasn’t sure she could handle this. And Pam couldn’t come over, so no girlfriend support, no distractions.

  Pam had to emergency babysit her nieces. Her brother-in-law was on a business trip, and her sister had to work late. Jess had told Pam over the phone that she could kiss any confessions of celebrity affairs goodbye. Pam had moaned in pain on the other end.

  No way was she in half as much pain as Jess.

  At least Kaylee had been able to come over that afternoon, and she had hung out with Jess for a couple of hours. Although, for the most part, the teenager only had eyes for Eliot.

  Jess needed one of the men to leave. Say, Derek. Although, the stubborn glint in his eyes said he was unlikely to do her any favors. So, fine, maybe Eliot would decide he was jet-lagged and needed to go to bed early.

  “It’s so nice here. I wish I could stay longer,” he said instead, relaxed and comfortable, because he was relaxed and comfortable everywhere.

  Before Jess could answer, Derek put in, “I came over meaning to ask a favor, actually.” He finally withdrew his arm from the back of the chair. “My furnace is on the blink. I can’t get the house heated over fifty degrees. It’s damn cold in there. Would you mind if I bunked on your couch until I can get a replacement furnace in? Shouldn’t be more than a couple of days.”