Harlequin Intrigue March 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Cindi Myers

  “Looking for Gwen.” He fought against a swell of panic, urging himself to be sensible. She hadn’t been abducted inside a police station. “I thought you had work to do.”

  “I do, and what do you mean, looking for Gwen?” Derek asked, retrieving an ice-cold soda and handing it to his brother. “For your face.”

  Lucas held the can to his swollen nose. “She’s not in my office or the ladies’ room. Where was she when you left her?”

  “In your office,” Derek said, concern changing his usually smug expression.

  “Check around back. Find someone who saw her leave my office. I’m heading to the lobby. If there’s any chance she was taken outside during all that racket, it’ll be caught on camera.”

  Derek broke left, heading toward the nearby desks and offices.

  Lucas made a run for the lobby. He pushed through the automatically locking security door, then cut past the handful of people waiting to sign in. “Hey,” he called, sliding in beside the next guest and drawing the young female officer’s attention. “The woman I had in my office, Gwen Kind, have you seen her?”

  Lanie frowned. She had an ice pack against her swollen cheek and a scowl on her face. “Your guy Black sure caused a hell of a lot of trouble out here. He kicked me in the face when I tried to keep Banister’s guy from running out the front door.”

  Lucas straightened, raking frustrated hands through his hair. “Gwen’s missing, and she’s in danger,” he said. “I need to know she wasn’t taken during the chaos. Buzz me in to look at the security feed.”

  Lanie buzzed him through the door separating her from the lobby. Her scowl melted into something more like shock. “The redhead? You think that’s possible?”

  He froze, snapping his attention to her. “Why? Did you see her?” Heat crawled up his neck and over his face. If Lanie had seen Gwen in the lobby, she’d been only a few yards from the front door.

  “I think so. She was out here when I went to assist Banister.”

  “Then what?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I subdued the guy, got kicked in the face on my way back. I didn’t see much other than spots after that.”

  Lucas cursed. He turned in a small circle, then hunched over her desk, accessing the surveillance feed and rewinding by several minutes, to the start of the brawl.

  “You think she’s gone-gone?” she asked. “Taken during all the commotion?”

  His chest constricted with rage and fear at the possibility. “Maybe.”

  “Pardon me.” A shadow fell over the counter between them, and a middle-aged man in a suit smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry to bother you,” he said. “I’m attorney David Neils, and I wonder if you’re talking about the same redheaded woman I ran into? Midtwenties? Curly hair?”

  “You saw her?” Lucas asked, fumbling for his phone. He accessed a photo he’d taken that morning and thrust the device in Neils’s direction. Her red hair looked like fire, lifting and blowing alongside the colorful campus leaves.

  “Yes. That’s her.” He looked sheepish again. “I spilled my coffee on her when someone shoved me during the brouhaha,” he said. “She went into the restroom.”

  “Alone?” Lucas demanded, heading back through the security door to the lobby.

  “Yes. I think so.”

  “Did you see her come out?” he asked, around the corner and darting for the public ladies’ room. He swung the door wide without waiting for an answer. Intuition spiked in his chest, and he knew.

  He’d failed her again.

  * * *

  AIR RUSHED INTO Gwen’s lungs with a whoosh and a burn. Her body jolted upright on the cold floor, and tears flowed immediately from her eyes. Her heart raced with the knowledge something awful had happened, but it was several moments before the actual memories returned.

  “Gwen?” The bathroom door swung open, banging against the wall and ricocheting off.

  She started at the sound, but couldn’t speak, still trapped in the horrific and detailed memory of her stalker’s hands around her throat. His crazed eyes in the mirror’s reflection. His breath in her hair.

  He’d gotten to her in the police station bathroom with a half-dozen officers just outside the door.

  Self-pity climbed to the forefront of emotions in her heart and took roost. The awful why-is-this-happening-to-me soundtrack began to play, and she let go as the desperation she’d barely kept under control all day broke free. She needed to get help. Needed to get up, but her body shook and her legs were weak and useless, as she tugged them tightly to her chest.

  “Gwen?” Lucas fell to his knees before her, hands hovering, wanting to touch, but not daring. Extra careful because he saw through her pretenses and facades. Lucas saw what she worked so hard to hide from everyone else. He saw all her broken pieces.

  She gasped, having forgotten to breathe, and her throat burned anew.

  Derek appeared, barely a heartbeat behind Lucas, kicking open stalls and rising on tiptoes to peer through the undamaged glass block window high on the wall. “What happened?”

  Her stalker had choked her. He’d watched her struggle in the mirror until spots had danced in her vision, and her frantic hands had fallen away from his arms. Then he’d changed his hold, offering her air while she was too fatigued and dizzy to fight. And as she’d gulped for breath, he’d applied pressure to her neck in a new way, winding an arm under her chin in a choke hold. He’d pressed the veins that carried blood away from her brain until her world had gone black. And she’d thought for sure he’d finally done it. After all she’d done to survive, he’d finally finished what he started and killed her.

  Lucas leaned closer, palms up and expression flat. “Hey,” he urged, fighting her thoughts back to the moment. “Can you hear me?”

  She nodded, wiping hot tears from her cheeks. Tears would do no good now.

  “Can I help you up? Are you able to stand?” he asked, keen eyes evaluating.

  She wasn’t sure, but she loosened her grip on her knees, willing to try. Anything to get out of that bathroom.

  “Did you get a look at this guy?” Derek asked. “Did he say anything?”

  Gwen clutched on to Lucas, forcing her trembling body to cooperate. A sob tore from her chest at the memory, ripping up her aching throat. “He said, go home. Go. Home. Go. Home,” she whispered just as her attacker had while she’d slowly lost consciousness.

  Lucas wrapped an arm around her back and held her tight as she worked to get her feet under her. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered back.

  Derek held the door for them as they shuffled away from the restroom.

  Several sets of curious eyes watched as they emerged. She could only imagine what she looked like, and she didn’t want to know. Blaze Winchester’s narrow-eyed stare was among the onlookers. “Gwen?”

  The three brothers exchanged a look, trading silent information in the curious way they always had, then they parted ways. Lucas hauled Gwen slowly toward the parking lot. Derek stayed behind, explaining the situation to Blaze.

  The air was brisk outside, and she shivered in response. The sun had set on another awful day, spreading shades of twilight across the land. “Where are we going?” she asked. Her addled mind worked to make sense of leaving the station. “I need to make a report.”

  “You need medical attention.” Lucas guided her to his truck, then helped her inside. “You can make a statement when we know you’re okay,” he said, eyes compassionate and jaw locked. “We’re going to the hospital to get you checked out. Blaze will take over inside. He’ll get the team to comb the ladies’ room for anything left behind we can use to identify who did this to you. Lanie is probably already reviewing the video feeds. They’ve got that, and I’ve got you.”

  Lucas closed her door and rounded the hood to the driver’s side. He started the engine and waited while she buckled up.


  Every movement felt slow and complicated, like moving through molasses. Almost surreal. She blinked wet eyes as she trailed her fingertips along the tender skin of her neck. “He could have killed me,” she whispered. “I thought he did. Why didn’t he?”

  Lucas shifted the truck into gear and motored away from the station. He stole a glance at her before pulling onto the road. “Have you ever seen a cat with a mouse? Everything they put them through? They lose interest once the mouse stops running.”

  Her throat tightened, and another tear fell unbidden as she heard her attacker’s voice in her ear. Go. Home. Go. Home. He couldn’t take her away, through a lobby filled with officers, and he couldn’t stalk her properly with Lucas always at her side. So, he’d wanted her to go home.

  She wouldn’t be any fun to him if she was dead.

  * * *

  GWEN WOKE AGAIN late that night. With the hospital behind her once more, she’d fallen fast asleep in Lucas’s bed. Fatigue had dragged her quickly under, and she’d slept soundly until the clattering of cups and plates had nudged her awake. A round of low voices rose through the old cavernous home. Four voices. And she recognized them all. Lucas. Derek. Blaze and Isaac Winchester.

  She climbed out of bed and tugged a hooded sweatshirt over the T-shirt and yoga pants she’d chosen for pajamas, then headed downstairs.

  The tangy scent of pizza sauce mixed with salty aromas of pepperoni and cheese in the air. Black coffee underscored it all.

  The voices quieted as she padded across the foyer in socked feet, down the hall to the kitchen. The men turned her way as she took the final step into view.

  Lucas was out of his chair in the next breath, meeting her where she was and ushering her to his empty seat at the table. “Here.” He offered her a bottle of water from the collection of food and drinks on the table. Soda bottles, paper plates and napkins sat with pizza boxes and chips. “Coffee’s on if you’d rather have that. Are you hungry?”

  “Water’s fine.” She gave the food before her a regretful look, then frowned. She was hungry, but couldn’t imagine attempting to swallow anything from the selection on the table. Not with her throat as badgered as it had been.

  “I made soup,” he said. “It’s in the fridge. I can heat it when you’re ready.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Thank you.” Her stomach gurgled at the promise of sustenance, and Lucas smiled.

  “Give me two minutes.”

  The remaining Winchesters stared at her from their places around the table. Isaac with his evaluating eyes. Derek with his clenched fists. And Blaze with curiosity and regret, likely calculating how this had happened and what the next step would be.

  She lifted a palm to them in a half-hearted wave.

  “Hey,” they mumbled back, each sounding a little guilty for something that was nowhere near their fault.

  “Welcome back,” Blaze said wryly. “Wondering why you ever left?”

  Her lips tugged into a tiny smile. “Every minute. So, what were you all talking about before I interrupted?”

  “You,” he answered softly, honestly.

  She’d expected as much. “Did the crime scene team find anything useful at the scene on campus or in the bathroom at the police station?” she asked. “Did you get him on camera entering or leaving the building?”

  “Nothing from campus,” Blaze said. “There are just too many people over there to isolate tracks or trace evidence for one individual. Bathroom was clean, too. Surveillance cameras cover all entrances and exits at the station, so we definitely got him. Problem is we don’t know who we’re looking for, and there were a lot of people coming and going while Tommy Black was causing trouble.”

  “No one noticed a man coming out of the ladies room?” she asked, heart falling with the question. Obviously not, or they would have told her already. “So, he got away again.”

  Derek drummed his thumbs along the table’s edge. “Not completely and not forever. We have signatures from every visitor who signed in and out today. Once we compare the names to the faces caught on film, we can pare them down. Of those, one is likely linked to your past somehow.”

  “Okay,” she said, breaking the word into halves. “So, he’s definitely on video, but unlikely to have signed in. Maybe I can check the videos for familiar faces. Odds are I know him, right? We probably met before he started to follow me?”

  Blaze and Derek exchanged a look.

  “What?” Gwen pressed. “Tell me.”

  Blaze shifted, pulling her attention from Derek. “One of the officers wrestling with Tommy Black blocked the lobby camera that has a view of the restrooms in its scope. We can see someone leave, but can’t see his face. We can guess his height, but little else. He seemed to be wearing a black coat, but nothing that stood out. Then, the crowd shifts and he goes out of frame. He becomes visible again outside, but he leaves with a group being asked to wait there while officers move Tommy Black and Banister’s guy out of the lobby and over to processing. Our guy doesn’t wait with the rest. He keeps walking until he’s out of view again.”

  “So, he’s familiar with your setup?” she guessed. An icy chill rolled through her core. “A cop?”

  “No,” Blaze and Derek answered together.

  Isaac’s kind eyes crinkled at the corners, clearly amused. “Lots of people visit the station. Cleaning crews, delivery people, maintenance, lawyers, visitors of detainees, criminals.” He let the last word stick.

  “Of course,” she agreed sheepishly.

  Lucas returned to her with a steaming bowl and settled it before her on the table. A spoon and napkin at its side.

  The warm, buttery scents excited her stomach, which she realized had been empty for hours. “Thank you.”

  He dragged a stool into the space beside her and sat, watching as she managed the first hot spoonful. “We’ve been working with our profilers on this guy,” he said. “Don’t give up hope just yet. Even if we can’t get a look at his face, we can generate a mold based on his behaviors this week that will help narrow the suspect pool.”

  Gwen had given her statement at the hospital, but it hadn’t been much. Her attacker was tall. Same black balaclava as always. Same angry eyes and violent hands.

  “We assume he’s an outdoorsman,” Lucas began. “He was comfortable spending hours on the ground among the trees at the hike-and-bike trail, watching for you. He owns a high-caliber ghillie suit and knew how to use it to his full advantage in the woods. Your original attack was outdoors, also. Some criminals would have followed you home that night, where there were walls to shield sound and view. He didn’t do that. Maybe because he knew you spent most nights with me. Maybe because he prefers to be outside.”

  Blaze pointed to Lucas in agreement, but clearly with something to add. “This guy was patient in his stalking. Painfully so. Unrushed for at least two years before the first attack. And we know he kept watch for six years afterward. He has a job with a flexible schedule, and given the number of photos taken in public spaces, he moves through society unnoticed.”

  Gwen struggled to keep up, but her mind had hooked on the word outdoorsman. It was a polite way to summarize him, but her stalker was much more than that. Lucas just hadn’t wanted to say the more accurate and on-the-nose word in his mind.

  Hunter.

  She thought back to the analogy he’d made in the truck about the cat and its mouse. Her stalker was a hunter, and she was being hunted.

  Lucas looked pained as he watched her processing the profile. “We think his patience only lasts as long as he feels in control. You never knew he was there until he wanted you to know. So, we can assume something changed to make him want to scare you this time. Something made him feel as if he was losing control of his fantasy. Based on timing, we can guess that our engagement was the catalyst before.”

  Gwen considered the notion of letting the punishmen
t fit the crime. “You think his reaction was extreme because marrying you would have been permanent.”

  “Possibly,” Lucas said. “He was younger. Newer at this. Age and maturity could have been a factor in him losing control, or there could have been another factor in his life that had him already on the edge.”

  His brothers grunted their agreement.

  “Unfortunately, there’s no real profile for rapists,” Lucas went on, speaking gently, but factually. “These are all just guesses, but it would explain the extreme violence and timing of the first attack. Presumably his attempt to assert control and ownership over the object of his obsession. You.”

  Gwen abandoned the spoon in her soup. Her arms wound protectively around her center. “Ownership?”

  Lucas nodded, emotion thick in his cool blue eyes. “The profilers at the precinct will have a more complete profile soon, but they say someone who’s devoted so many years of his life to watching you probably believes he’s part of yours. He’s invested.”

  “He thinks he’s part of my life,” she echoed. “He’s what? Delusional? Had a psychotic break?”

  Lucas offered the saddest of smiles. “Extreme stalkers are often delusional in that regard. He probably imagines himself at the restaurant tables with you and your friends. Jogging beside you in the mornings. Curled on the couch with you at night. And in those moments, he’s happy. And so are you. Together.”

  She pressed her lips tight, unable to stop the shudder rocking through her. “And when I accepted your proposal, I rejected him. A husband would have ruined his fantasy.”

  Blaze dipped his chin. “That’s the working theory.”

  “Okay.” She took a breath to center herself. “So, what upset him this time?”

  “You tell us,” Blaze said. “The infringements started small and in your town. Small punishments for a small infraction, likely. You came back to West Liberty, and the behaviors escalated.”

  Gwen’s eyes fell slowly shut. “I came back to Lucas. The man I’d planned to marry.” She peeled her eyes open with a groan. “But what did I do to deserve the small punishments back home? I haven’t done anything unusual. I jog. Go to work. Go home. Same old. Everyday. Sometimes I get drinks or dinner with the ladies from the office, but not often, and I’ve been doing that for years.”