by Connie Mann
“Where. Did. You. Take. Her?”
He turned to Nick. “You better get this loony tune some help. She’s obviously crazy.”
Cat gripped his shirtfront. “Tell me!”
Keeping one hand on the goon, Nick eased Cat back a step with his body. “Let go, Cat. I’ll deal with him.”
She opened her mouth to say more, then saw the warning in his eyes and snapped her mouth closed. She waited while Nick put the man in the back seat of his SUV and then came over to her.
“What the heck, Nick? Where’s the other guy? Why aren’t you getting information out of this jerk?”
Nick seemed unfazed by her panic, which only made her more furious. “Who are they, Cat?”
She fisted her hands on her hips. She had to tread carefully. “How should I know? They rammed my car and pulled me out of it.”
“I know.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“A good Samaritan saw it happen and called it in.”
That’s how he got here so fast, drat the man. “You should have let it go,” she muttered.
He stepped closer until she was flush against the SUV. His eyes were hard, every bit the cop. “I should have ignored the report that you’d just been kidnapped from your car and let them take you?” He narrowed his eyes as he studied her face. “You wanted them to take you. Are you insane?”
“No, I’m desperate,” she hissed. “It was the only way I could think of to find Blaze.”
“Which is a great idea, except then they’d have both of you! How is that a good plan?”
It had sounded much better in her head. She looked away, shrugged. “I have plenty of self-defense training. I figured once I got to wherever they were taking me, I could find Blaze and we’d escape.”
“And if they killed you long before that? Then what?”
Cat’s eyes snapped to his. She saw fury there, obviously, but also worry and . . . something more. The silence lengthened, and the air crackled with electricity. My, but the man looked good when he was in full warrior mode. Hard jaw, a shadow of a beard. She knew he would stand between her and danger without a moment’s hesitation.
Reality slapped her upside the head. No matter how tempting, she couldn’t get close to him. It was too dangerous. For everyone, especially her family.
Without thinking it through, she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. She’d thought to distract him, but it backfired. The minute their lips met, Cat jerked as though she’d been goosed. She felt the contact all the way to her toes.
For a split second, Nick froze, then he wrapped one hand around the back of her neck and took control of the kiss. He didn’t ask, he took, and she gave it all back. Cat wasn’t sure if it was minutes or hours, but when he finally pulled away, she swayed slightly, and it took a second for her eyes to refocus.
His face was furious. “Don’t you dare try to distract me, Cat. It won’t work. Who are these men? And don’t insult me by pretending you don’t know.”
She opened her mouth to respond, scrambling for the right answers, when JD stepped up behind Nick. “Everything OK here, boss?”
Nick stepped away, and Cat finally drew a deep breath. But he speared her with a look that clearly said, “This is not over, not by a long shot.”
Cat shook off the aftereffects of the kiss. What should she tell him? Would it be better to keep bluffing? How long before the guy he’d caught started talking?
Cat still hadn’t come up with a plan when the EMTs arrived and started poking and prodding. She tried to wave them away, but Nick marched over, glared, and told them to check her out—whether she wanted them to or not.
She drew the line at going to the hospital but let them bandage her minor abrasions.
Jaw set, Nick pulled a pad and pen from his pocket. “I want your cell number, Cat. Now.”
She glanced at the hard lines of his face, then rattled off the number. He nodded and walked away.
But as activity swirled around her, anxiety clawed at Cat’s gut. With every minute that ticked by, Blaze’s situation got worse. She had to find her. Fast.
Chapter 22
Nick was bone tired by the time he returned to the station later that day. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep—or much sleep at all, now that he thought about it. He’d grabbed a fresh uniform shirt from his locker, and now he picked up the coffeepot, sniffed the black sludge left in the bottom, grimaced, and poured a cup anyway.
Exhaustion dragged at his body, but his mind raced in circles like a cat chasing its tail. While his body still hummed from the effects of Cat’s kiss, his mind called foul. It had been a great kiss, an amazing kiss. But it wasn’t a real kiss. It was nothing more than a distraction.
He stopped, took another sip of the terrible coffee, and rolled that thought around in his head. No, that wasn’t quite right. She’d pulled him close as a distraction, but the second their lips had touched, they’d both been all in. He could taste it on her tongue, in the way she made those little sounds in the back of her throat. She wasn’t that good an actress.
Or maybe she was.
Frustrated, he set the mug down and studied his computer screen. The guy he’d chased down still wasn’t talking, but his fingerprints told them plenty. So did a check of the guy’s known associates.
Nick drummed his fingers on the desk. Hernandez had been working for Carlos Garcia for several years, since right after he got out of prison for assault.
He ran a search on Garcia’s name, and the gnawing in his gut got worse. Garcia was well known among law enforcement, especially for his ability to portray himself not only as a legitimate businessman but also as a philanthropist. The list of causes he supported and donated large sums of money to every year was truly impressive. But so was the list of charges that had been brought against him over the years—most drug related, many involving sex crimes. All were either dismissed, thrown out, or otherwise abandoned due to lack of evidence. Most notably because of witnesses who died rather unexpectedly or disappeared, never to be heard from again.
There was only one reason for Garcia’s enforcer to be in Safe Harbor: drugs. Either Garcia was planning to move into the area with one of his drug operations—heaven forbid he already had—or his presence was somehow connected to Teddy’s death.
Nick leaped up from his chair, sending it crashing against the wall. There was no way Garcia was bringing scopolamine into Safe Harbor. Not while he was alive to prevent it.
Though by the looks of things, obviously, the zombie drug was already here.
If he set that aside just for a moment, how was Garcia connected to Cat? And where did Cat’s uncle fit into any of this? Or did he?
When Cat was taken, did she know who these men were?
He checked his watch. He couldn’t show up at the marina at this hour, demanding answers. Mama Rosa needed her rest.
But come morning, he and Cat were having a long, honest conversation.
Cat couldn’t sleep. Fear of what Blaze was enduring had her pacing her upstairs bedroom until she realized that would keep Mama Rosa and Pop awake. She grabbed her violin case and a flashlight before she tiptoed down the stairs, careful of the creaky steps, then crept across the porch and out the screen door.
She walked across the wet grass, her flip-flops sliding around, and headed out into the woods to her favorite clearing. Once there, she shone the light around the area, desperate to find some clue, anything at all, that would tell her where Blaze was being held.
She still wasn’t convinced her uncle wasn’t holding Blaze and laughing as Cat ran in circles, trying to find her. Maybe that’s why letting those goons take her hadn’t seemed quite as scary as it should have.
Setting down the flashlight, she pulled out her violin and spent a few minutes tuning it before she started to play.
If Garcia had Blaze . . . Cat’s fingers faltered, and she stopped, drawing a deep, shaky breath. Oh God. Keep her safe. Help
me find her. She hadn’t prayed in many years, but right now, she needed divine intervention. If not for her own sake, then for Blaze’s, whose only crime was that she knew Cat.
Cat lowered her head, took a moment to steady herself, then raised the violin again. The best way to clear her mind was music. She forced every other thought out of her mind and let the music flow over her, floating on the night air, bringing a steadiness to her hands and slowing her heartbeat.
She would find Blaze.
Stronger now, Cat segued into another familiar piece and let her heart soar with the crescendo of the music, riding the swells of sound, buoyed by the melody.
Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket, breaking the spell.
She set the violin in its case and fumbled the phone from the pocket of her shorts. Please let it be Blaze.
It was a text from an unknown number.
Stanton has the answers you’re looking for.
Cat’s hard-won respite vanished and a fine trembling shook her fingers. She texted back: What do you mean?
She waited, eyes on the screen, but there was no response. Who could have sent it? Only Sasha and now Nick had this number. Well, and the EMTs, if they were listening earlier. Maybe Nick had set her number down on his desk at the station. Anyone could have seen it.
She checked the time. She couldn’t just show up at Nick’s house at one thirty in the morning to ask him all that.
Yes, she could. She packed up her violin, grabbed the flashlight, and hurried back to the house. Reversing her earlier steps, she grabbed her keys from her bedroom, glad now that she’d insisted on getting her car back right away. It was a miracle the little thing still ran at all, after the last few days. She climbed in and closed her door quietly before she slowly inched away from the marina, relieved when no lights turned on in the house as she left.
She never saw the black car parked along the edge of the highway, hidden in the trees.
Nick had finally given up trying to sort everything out and had gone home, where he’d showered and collapsed into bed at about eleven. When he heard a buzzing, he woke with a start, grabbed his cell off the bedside table. “Stanton.” Nothing. “Hello? Who’s there?” Still nothing.
He checked his phone. The screen was blank. No missed call, either. The sound came again. Front door.
His head cleared, and he hopped out of bed, pulled on a pair of jeans, grabbed his gun, and held it down beside his leg as he approached the door. A quick glance through the window confirmed a woman was standing there. He flipped on the porch light, and Cat threw her arm up to hide her eyes from the sudden glare.
He opened the door, glanced up and down the street, then pulled her into his house and closed the door.
As he stepped over to the sofa, he turned on a lamp on the table beside it. “What’s wrong?”
Without a word, Cat shoved her phone in front of his face, and he read the text. He looked up and caught her checking out his bare chest. A lovely blush raced up her cheeks, and he couldn’t help grinning. She liked what she saw, did she?
He shook his head. They didn’t have time to ogle each other, though he thought she looked pretty hot in her tank top and shorts, hair mussed, like she needed a good long kiss from someone who knew how.
Get a grip, Stanton. He looked at her phone again. Unknown number. “Do you know who sent this?”
Cat took the phone, tucked it in her pocket, and crossed her arms, a motion that did nice things to her tank top. He focused on her face.
“No. But right now I’m more interested in why this person thinks you have the answers I need,” she said, pacing his small living room. She looked around. “Why is it so hot in here?”
“Old house. Window air-conditioning units.” He shrugged. “I keep the bedroom cool at night. No need to cool this room.” He turned. “Let’s sit out back.”
He led her through the kitchen, across the sagging back porch, and onto a concrete pad in the middle of the yard where a couple of Adirondack chairs surrounded a fire pit. “This is nice,” she commented, sliding into one of the chairs.
“It will be. Eventually. I haven’t owned the place long.”
“What do you know about what’s going on, Nick?”
He stretched out in his chair and studied her, features barely visible by the light of the moon. “I could ask you the same question. What’s this all about, Cat? And how do you tie into it?”
The silence lengthened as she studied his face, and Nick could swear she was carefully weighing different scenarios, deciding how much to tell him.
Suddenly, they heard an earsplitting bang, followed by a burst of light as an explosion rocked the sky and shook the ground.
Nick had only a split second to grab Cat’s hand and run before debris started raining down on them. He dove under the hedge along the back fence, tackling Cat under him. He covered her with his body, hands over her head as the ground shook and pieces of his house landed around them. He felt a burn on the back of his leg and glanced down to see a glowing ember. He shook it off and waited. Cat started struggling beneath him. “Not yet. Stay still.”
“Can’t breathe,” she gasped, and he raised up slightly on his elbows, giving her a bit more room, though he was loath to go even that far. He had an unbidden urge never to let go, to protect her for as long as it took. From everything and anything. He shook off the feeling and refocused. “Are you OK?”
She nodded.
Nick looked over his shoulder. The back half of his house was mostly intact, but flames shot out the front half, lighting up the night sky. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, amazed it hadn’t shattered when they landed. He dialed 911, spoke to the night dispatcher. “This is Officer Stanton. There’s been an explosion at my house. Twelve Oak Lane.”
“You OK, Nick? Is anyone hurt?”
“I’m OK, Yvonne. Send the fire department, would you? We’ll need an arson investigator, too.”
There was a pause. “Ten-four. Fire rescue is en route.”
“Thanks, Yvonne. Better send EMS, too, just in case.”
After hanging up, he slowly crawled out of the hedge, then reached back to help Cat. He kept his hands on her arms, checking her for injury as she swayed slightly before she locked her knees and straightened.
Her eyes were wide, fierce with knowledge. “This was no accident.”
“No.” He blew out a breath. “Not right after you got an anonymous text and showed up at my house in the middle of the night.”
Cat scanned the flames shooting into the sky, then looked at him. “I’m so sorry, Nick. I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe someone blew up your house.”
He ignored the fire, shrugged. He’d think about that later. “Stuff can be replaced.”
Cat studied his face, gaze alert. She swallowed hard. “The explosion was in the front of the house. Right where we were.”
He nodded, impressed that she’d already reached the same conclusion, despite the adrenaline rush after coming so close to dying. She did not cave in a crisis, that was for sure. “The only real question is: Were you the target? Or was I? Or maybe somebody wanted to take us both out.”
The sirens were getting closer. They hurried out to the street. Nick grabbed his garden hose and wet down the fence between his house and the neighbor’s, wanting to be sure the fire didn’t spread. Lights were flipping on in houses up and down the street, and curious neighbors were gathering to watch the spectacle. Nick went to work, establishing a perimeter, making room for the emergency vehicles.
JD raced up in his patrol car and hurried over, shirt buttoned wrong, eyes worried. He grabbed Nick’s arm. “Are you OK, Nick? What happened?”
“I’m fine. The rest we still need to figure out.”
More official vehicles arrived, including Monroe’s. He must have gotten dressed pretty quickly, but he looked ready to hold a press conference. Avery Ames from the Gazette pulled in right behind him, camera in hand. Of course.
Wearing full turnout g
ear, Nick’s friend Chad Everson raced over as the rest of the volunteer fire crew got to work putting out the flames. “What the heck happened, Nick?”
“Explosion. Front of the house.”
Chad looked him over. “How’d you manage to get away?”
Nick glanced at the curb, where Cat sat in front of the neighbor’s house, away from all the activity. “I wasn’t in the house. I was sitting on the patio out back.”
“Well you are one lucky son of a gun, then.” Someone called Chad’s name. “Gotta go.”
Monroe appeared in front of him, Avery following closely. Nick put up a hand when the flash from her camera almost blinded him. “Not now, ma’am,” Nick said and then led the chief away. Monroe frowned and followed.
“You OK, Nick? What happened?”
Nick sighed, already tired of answering the same question and realizing he’d have to do it again and again before the night was over. “Not sure yet, Chief, except that it was an explosion.”
“How’d you manage to stay in one piece?”
“I wasn’t inside.” Nick jerked his head back. “I was out on the patio behind the house.”
Monroe eyed his bare chest. “Alone?”
Glancing over toward Cat, he saw Monroe follow his eyes. “What was she doing here at this time of night?”
Nick straightened, unwilling, suddenly, to pull Cat too far into the spotlight. “It’s not what you think. She got a text saying I had the answers she was looking for. She showed up to ask me what it meant.”
“And you went outside.” Monroe studied him. “Why?”
“It’s hot inside. No central air conditioning.”
Monroe looked at the house. “You went out a back door?”
“Yes. Whoever did this wouldn’t have known I wasn’t in the house.”
“They wouldn’t have known the Martinelli girl wasn’t in there, either.”
“Right.”
Monroe clapped him on the shoulder, and Nick winced where burning embers had left their mark. He hadn’t felt any of it until now, so the adrenaline must be wearing off. Which he knew from experience meant exhaustion wasn’t far behind. He had a lot to do before that happened.
