The couple with the beagle opens the gate, and in his excitement, Rocky bounds out of the opening and down the sidewalk to water the bushes and sniff all the new scents. Logan starts to go after him, but I wave him off. “I’ll get him and be right back.”
Logan is right, the park has been severely neglected. Rocky disappears behind the bushes and down an overgrown sidewalk. I groan and quicken my pace. The shadows lengthen the deeper I go, and I don’t realize until I’m swallowed up by the brush how dark it’s gotten.
“Rocky? C’mere boy!”
Twigs snap, and I hear the soft chuff of his heavy pants. I follow the sound around a bend and find him investigating a tree.
“Rocky, Logan’s waiting for us. Let’s go and we’ll get you a treat.”
A chill skitters over my spine. One so familiar it steals the breath straight from my lungs. I spin around, but the path behind me is empty. I’m probably being overly paranoid. A year on the run will do that to you. Even if it’s only from your own demons.
Rocky finally abandons the bush and trots to my side. I clip the leash onto his collar. “Silly boy. You shouldn’t go wandering off like that.”
We start to head back down the path. I can see the dog park and Logan’s truck through the trees, but we don’t make it that far.
Rocky freezes next to me, and I can almost see his muscles rippling underneath his fur, which is standing straight up. He bunches close to my side, and his body vibrates with a growl.
“Rocky?”
I automatically reach behind my back and then curse underneath my breath. This. This is exactly why I carry a gun and why I don’t get involved. I’ve known Logan for a short time, and he’s already distracting me. It could be nothing—probably just a kid—but I’d feel better with the weight of my gun in my hand.
A shadow steps out onto the path, and at first I think it’s Logan coming to look for us, but the proportions are all wrong.
Icy fingers dance along my nerves, and this time I pay attention. The figure moves closer, and I curse every single muscle in my body for being frozen in fear. All those hours of self-defense classes are proving completely useless. I try to calm myself—this is a public park . . . not every single person I walk by wants to hurt me . . . I don’t have a reason to be afraid.
I’m being paranoid. The incident Logan was called out on stirred up old memories, that’s all. This guy seems friendly enough. I’m just overreacting. Rocky’s still quivering by my side, but I urge him forward with a sharp tug on his leash.
Just as we pass the man, who’s still steeped in shadows, he lunges and light explodes across my vision.
Logan
As Sienna goes to retrieve Rocky, I start the truck and wait for her. Maybe I’ll bring her back to my place, put in a movie, eat the leftovers from the B&B. I’ve learned the only thing I need to do to get her to agree is distract her, which I’m looking forward to.
A few minutes pass, and I spend it imagining getting my hands on her again and listening to music. A few songs play, and I start to watch the woods a bit closer. She should have been back by now. I pull out my shoulder holster and slip it on out of habit. Her constant vigilance and the attack on Elizabeth Gallagher have my instincts on high alert.
There’s a chance I’m overreacting—and I hope to Christ I am—but I’ve learned to trust my gut. Right now it’s telling me there’s a reason why she hasn’t come out of those woods.
The other family with the small dog have already left, and I’m alone in the lengthening shadows of the decrepit park. Elizabeth Gallagher was attacked under these same conditions: at night, in a park, and with people nearby.
I’d call out, but if there is someone nearby, I don’t want to spook them. If there’s not, I don’t want to frighten her.
I keep my hand at the ready as I move down the same sidewalk that Sienna took. I walk slowly, scanning the dark woods around me and listening for any sign of her or Rocky. Nails click against the concrete sound seconds before Rocky appears around the bend in front of me.
A low whine comes from his throat, and when I put a reassuring hand to his neck, I find him trembling. “Where is she?” I steady him with a couple long swipes down his back. “Find Sienna.”
Rocky nudges my leg with his shoulder and then starts off in a steady trot, looking back at me every few seconds to make sure I’m still following close behind.
“Good boy.” I pull out my gun as I round the bend. She wouldn’t have let Rocky go by himself unless something was keeping her. “Good boy,” I repeat. “Find Sienna.”
The sidewalk is split by roots from the surrounding trees and is littered with leaves and fallen branches, but there’s no Sienna.
I take a few more steps into the blackness, and my foot hits what I think is a branch at first. I glance down automatically to move around it and find it’s not a branch at all. Obscured by the shadow thrown by the bush she’s half under, is an unconscious Sienna.
Dark liquid trails down her temple and into the tumbled mass of her hair. Rocky tucks himself into her legs and eyes the surrounding area like he’s on guard. I fall to my knees by her side, almost afraid to touch her.
My cop’s eye immediately takes in the scene. Her arms are splayed above her head, and there are very distinct drag marks that trail from her feet and through the debris covering the sidewalk. Someone incapacitated her and then had to flee the scene—probably because they heard me coming.
In quick succession, I pull out my gun and my phone, hitting the speed dial for the station. “This is Blackwell,” I say before they even have a chance to answer. “I’m at . . .” I strain to remember the address on the park sign as we were coming in, “The Fowler Street park, and I have an unconscious woman who’s been assaulted. We need paramedics and a car sent out. I’m armed and the perpetrator may still be in the vicinity.”
I stay on the line and listen to their directions as I pull her gently into my lap. “It’ll be okay. I’m here,” I whisper. “Sienna? Can you hear me?”
She groans and her knees curl to her chest. She turns her head, tucking her face against my stomach. Her hand goes to her head and she flinches. “What happened?”
“Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay.”
Hearing my voice causes her to open her eyes, and she blinks up at me with tear-filled eyes. “Oh, God. Logan.”
My hands feel too big, too rough, but I wipe away the trails from her cheeks anyway and hope she doesn’t notice how bad they’re trembling. “Police are coming. Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“Police?” Her brows furrow, and she raises a hand to her head, winching as she touches the bruise blooming there. “Oh my god, what happened?”
“You don’t remember anything?”
She closes her eyes, and then they pop right back open and the color drains from her face. She shoots up so fast we nearly knock heads. “Where is he?” The desperation in her voice sends a chill straight through me.
“Don’t stand, you hit your head. You could have a concussion.”
She ignores me and surges to her feet. “I can’t stay here. We have to get out of here.”
When she sways, I step in front of her to stop her escape. “I checked, there’s no one here.”
Her head is on a constant swivel as I lead her down the sidewalk. If she weren’t already dizzy from the possible concussion, she would be from all the spinning.
“I was coming back.” Her voice sounds so small I have to lean down to hear her. “I was coming back with Rocky, and there was someone on the sidewalk in front of me.”
Fuck, her skin is clammy, her eyes drawn, and her skin is still pale. Where the hell are the paramedics? “Did you get a look at the person?”
We break the line of the trees and she sags against me. My arms go around her, and I lift her clear off her feet and carry her the rest of the way to my truck. After I set her on the seat, her legs dangling off the edge like a child, I hunt through my center console and come up with a mint. It�
�s not perfect, but the sugar will help.
I discard the wrapper and hold it up to her lips. “Here, this will help.”
She sucks it into her mouth and leans against the headrest. It clicks against her teeth as she talks. “I didn’t see him. I mean, I couldn’t make out his face. By the time we got close enough, he hit me and that’s the last thing I remember.”
Then, fucking finally, we hear the sirens. I tuck the hair away from the uninjured side of her face. “You’re safe. They’re almost here.”
She closes her eyes as if it takes too much energy to keep them open. “I’ll never be safe,” she says.
Two police cars and an ambulance come to a screaming stop behind my truck.
“They’re going to need to take your statement, and then the paramedics will look you over.”
“I’m fine.”
“Honey, you’re not fine. You look like you’re about to fall over.” She starts to protest, so I put a finger over her lips. “Please. For me?”
Her eyes harden. “I’ll give a statement, and they can look me over, but I won’t go to the station and I’m not going to the hospital for observation.”
“You have a concussion—”
Her gaze cuts to the officers and paramedic who come to our side. She answers their questions and refuses to go to the hospital. I stand back, listening to her recount what she told me and watching as each one of her walls gets built back up.
She’s waiting on the porch for me when I get off work the next day.
“I don’t think we should do this tonight,” she says before I’ve even gotten out of my truck.
I jump out anyway, because hell if I’m going to let her close up again. “That so?”
She nods emphatically. “Yes.”
I brush by her and into her house. “That’s too bad.”
“Look, Logan. I can appreciate you’re wanting to check on me, but I’m fine.” She moves around me to perch on the couch with feigned indifference, but with the bandage on her head, she only looks vulnerable.
“You’re fine?”
She nods, but it’s stiff and jerky.
“You’re fine, even though a man attacked you and knocked you unconscious. If I hadn’t come, he would have raped you or worse.” This time, she can’t meet my gaze. “That’s what I thought.”
“What are you even doing here? I don’t need you to take care of me.”
My head snaps back. “If nothing else, I consider you a friend, Sienna, and I was responsible for you. I knew there was someone potentially dangerous stalking women in this town, and I should have been there.”
“You think a man like this would care if you were there?” she says, eyes flashing. “He’d kill you if it meant he got what he wanted.”
I cross the room and crouch in front of her. Even though she tries to pull them back, I take her hands in mine. “Tell me.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t.”
“You can. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Tell me what happened to you, baby.”
“Stop.”
“No, I won’t.”
A tear spills over her cheek and she bites her lip.
“I want to be here for you. Let me be here for you, Sienna.”
She barks out a laugh. “I don’t know how to start.”
I sit next to her on the couch, close enough to remind her I’m there, but far enough away that I don’t crowd her.
“When I was in college in Miami, there was a man there targeting women, too. He’d attack them when they were outside, alone. At the park, jogging, or walking home from a late night. He’d find them when they were vulnerable, hurt them, rape them, then murder them. He killed three before he was caught. Before I caught him.” She looks up then and the pain in her eyes makes me want to hurt someone. “He was my boyfriend, and I never suspected a thing. If I had, maybe I could have saved those women.”
“That isn’t your fault.”
“It is. You don’t know—”
“I will if you tell me.”
“I slept with a killer. Trusted him. How could I be so blind?”
“You’d be surprised how many evil people can keep a perfectly normal life while they commit these crimes.”
“Still, I should have known. A part of me should have known. He wasn’t a bad person.” Her voice cracks on the word. “He wasn’t. He wasn’t a good one, I can’t say he didn’t have his faults, but he was normal.”
“Did he hurt you?”
She looks away. “He tried to.” There’s a long pause and then she lifts a shoulder. “After the trial, where I had to testify against the man I thought I loved, I left Miami, changed my name. For the last year I drifted until I came back to Florida. To Jacksonville. I wanted to be back home and I thought it was as close as I could get. That’s where I met Chloe.” A ghost of a smile drifts across her lips. “She worked in the travel agency I owned for a little while, and it was the best I’d felt in a really long time.”
“What made you come here?”
“He won an appeal and I couldn’t . . . I just couldn’t stay. The reporters found me and it was only a matter of time before he did, too. It was too close. I moved around again until Chloe convinced me to come here.” Her shoulders lift. “Guess it wasn’t far enough, but I’m pretty sure he could find me, no matter where I went.”
Awareness snaps my spine straight. “Are you saying the man who attacked you last night was your ex?”
“I can’t be certain. I didn’t see his face.”
“What’s his name? Why didn’t you tell the police when they interviewed you?”
“His name is Gavin. Gavin Lance. I think I was in shock at the time.” The shadows under her eyes are darker than ever, and she looks like she’s about to drop. “I thought I was doing the right thing when I ran. I thought if he couldn’t find me, then I could live out my life. I didn’t know he’d do this again.”
I pull her into my arms. “It could be a coincidence, but I’ll check on it, Sienna. I’ll find out where he is.” Two men committing the same crime hundreds of miles apart isn’t likely. I’ll go over the reports from the other homicides to be sure and to help ease her mind.
“God, Logan. This is why I didn’t want to drag you into this. This is why I didn’t want to get you involved. How can you want to be with me when you don’t even know me?”
She looks down, unable to meet my eyes. I run a hand over her hair. “I can take anything you have to tell me. I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere. ”
Her gaze still on her feet, her voice barely a whisper, she says, “My name isn’t even Sienna.”
This time, I make her look up at me. I remember the night I met her, when her eyes were spitting fire as she confronted me in her little robe. How she refused to give me her name. A part of me feels like we’ve finally come full circle. When I speak, my voice is low, needy and somehow I know her next admission is just as real as her giving me a piece of her own heart. “What’s your name, honey?”
She licks her lips, then gnaws on them when they start to tremble. “Piper. My name is Piper Davenport.”
When I say, “It’s nice to meet you, Piper,” her smile nearly washes away the ache in my chest.
“Guess you finally got me to give you my name.”
“I knew I’d get it out of you at some point.”
Her smile doesn’t last and she slumps a little. “I can’t stay here,” she says into my shirt. “If he’s found me, there are people in danger. I can’t be responsible for it again.”
“You aren’t.” She tucks her legs up into her chest as if she can minimize the hurt by holding it close. I smooth a hand down her back. “You aren’t. He is. And if you keep running, you’re only going to change the location, not the events. Men like that don’t stop because you change the setting. It’s a compulsion.”
“I’m just so tired of living my life this way,” she says.
“I know you are. But you don’t have to anymore. We’ll figur
e out what’s happening, I promise.”
“What’s the point?”
“The point of life is to live it. You’ll get through this and you’ll see.” I pull her closer. “You sleep here,” I tell her. “I have you.”
The next morning, I leave her curled up on her bed and let Rocky out the back door to do his business as I make a pot of coffee. After she fell asleep in my arms, I put her in her room and slept on the couch. There was no way in hell I was leaving her alone.
I’m not close with many people in the department. After I beat a suspect involved in the kidnapping of Ben’s son, Cole, most of the other officers like to keep their distance. As a sniper, I got used to spending most of my time alone. The only person who really doesn’t give a shit about any of the interdepartmental politics is a wiry old bastard named Eli Colson. He’s older than dirt but moves like lightning. He reminds me of a leathery rattlesnake waiting to strike.
With my phone pressed to my ear, I unwind the hose to water her budding garden. His gruff voice answers after a couple rings. “Colson.”
“Hey, it’s Blackwell.”
“Guessing you have a good reason for calling at the crack of dawn,” he says after a yawn.
“I wouldn’t say it’s a good one. It’s about the Gallagher case.”
“Might as well get up and get some coffee in me,” he mumbles, and I hear the loud squeak of bedsprings in the background. “Lay it on me.”
“I need any information you can get on a serial murder investigation that took place in Miami involving a Gavin Lance.”
“What does this have to do with the Gallagher case?”
I scrub a hand over my face. “The woman I’m seeing? She was attacked yesterday in a similar fashion. Blitz attack in the park. She gave a statement at the time of the attack, but she’ll need to give another. When we got back to her place she explained it could be Lance.”
“Why in the sam hell does she think that?”
First to Fight Box Set: Books 1-5 Page 67
