by Jenna Ryan
“Do I have a choice?”
A chuckle emerged. “Stubborn.” He kissed her temple, forced her to walk. “I’ve got two actually. The preferred plan and the alternate. In the preferred version, you and I fly to a lovely Caribbean island I purchased last summer under a false name. We live there together in total seclusion. Supply ships come at regular intervals. We’re happy, Bella, truly happy and very much alive.”
“David…”
“Shh.” He gave her lips a light tap with his index finger. “I’m not finished. In the alternate version, you refuse to come around, because, face it, you’re James Corrigan’s granddaughter. Still, what’s mine remains mine.”
The pressure around her throat increased dramatically. “David, you’re choking me.”
His face lit up. “Exactly. Nail on the head.” He nuzzled her ear. “Unpreferred scenario? If you refuse to cooperate, or you try to trick me, I lock you in a tropical tower.” Another giggle emerged. “And then I kill you.”
Chapter Seventeen
He got rough after that, kissing her with a savagery that had panic sprinting through every nerve in her body.
When he finished abusing her mouth, he sank his hand into her hair and dragged her down a poorly lit passage to a cul-de-sac set high enough in the cliff that the tidewater couldn’t reach it. He’d fastened a pair of tubular battery lamps to the stone wall. They illuminated the area, revealing a cot in one corner, a three-legged stool beside it and a stash of supplies in open crates in the shadow.
“All the comforts of home, baby.” Giving her hair a twist, he tossed her in. “Food, seating, bed. Wanna try the last one out?”
His eyes looked feral. His lip glistened with sweat. Isabella rubbed the back of her head and wisely held her tongue.
He walked back and forth in the opening, pushed his hands through his hair until it stood up in tufts. “You left me,” he said at length. “You told me we weren’t right for each other, then you flew off to Bangkok.”
She watched his face. “You agreed we should end it.”
He stopped pacing to stare. “Excuse me, but were we in the same room when this happened? Because in my memory, you did all the talking. You admitted you were selfish and self-centered, and that I was far too good for you—which of course I am. But who were you to be telling me it was over between us?”
“David, I didn’t say any of those…” At a vicious look from him, she stopped. “Never mind.”
“It was all about you, that night and every other. What you wanted, how you thought our life should be, how lonely you were living in this isolated place, how you deserved to be happy even if I couldn’t understand why you weren’t already.”
Was there any point arguing? Isabella wondered. His fantasy appeared firmly entrenched.
He stabbed an accusing finger at her. “I decide the whens and ifs of things, Bella, no one else. Not you, not my legal partner, not the Cinderella stepsiblings I’ve been forced to endure since my mother ditched my father and remarried without a second thought for how I might feel. ‘Come and get us, Daddy,’ I used to pray. Grow some balls and snatch her back. Get me the hell away from these people. But he never did. Mama Davina got what Sybil wanted, and I got punished. Thank you, Sybil Dark.”
He all but spat the name, and Isabella didn’t know whether to sympathize, rationalize or say nothing until he ran down. She opted for the third thing and kept a close eye on his gun hand.
“I’ve often dreamed about killing my mother. Who knows, maybe one day I will. Right now, though, I’ll settle for satisfying my own desires and showing Aaron how it could have been for him if he’d handled things better.” He looked left, then right, then bent forward to stage-whisper, “The man had no finesse. Not his fault, really—he lived in an archaic time.” Another stage whisper, this one punctuated by a tinkling laugh. “No birth control.”
“David, don’t you think—?”
“Shut up,” he warned, raising his gun. Then he smiled and extended his hands in a show of pride. “Once again, she does as she’s told. Brilliant and obedient. I am the luckiest of men.”
Isabella forced herself to think past what he’d said, what he’d done, what he planned to do. He’d kill her without hesitation; he’d made that clear. He didn’t love her—also clear—he simply couldn’t accept that she’d ended their so-called relationship.
He continued to walk back and forth. With each passing minute, his stride grew shorter, his body language more agitated.
Afraid to move, Isabella waited him out. Adopt the wrong expression, he might snap. Say the wrong thing, he might shoot her.
He began to mutter and tick items off on his fingers. “Whack a homeless guy, stuff him in the Corvette. Hated to see that go. Lucky, timely phone call. Cliff coming. Jump. Bye-bye, homeless guy. Burn well in my stead. Fast-forward now. Swiss bank account. Money out, money in. Shuffle it around. Too bad about cousin Burt and that big old bottle of wine someone—me—gave him. Guy was eighty-two, lived in Smallville, Louisiana.” He snorted out a laugh. “Like anyone there would have thought to check the briefly rich and suddenly deceased recluse for signs of poison. Inheritance takes roundabout route back to source. All tracks and bases covered. We’re cool.” Straightening, he turned to beam at Isabella. “Only one thing left to do, my dear. Well, two, but I won’t make you look at messy body parts, even if I still think you loved him. You know what the first thing is, don’t you? Come on, be clever. Dastardly,” he reminded her when she didn’t respond.
Her heart thumped. “Oh, God, David, don’t hurt Katie.”
Mortified, he drew back. “You think I’d hurt your favorite cousin? I’d have to be a monster to do that.” Cocking his gun, he took one-eyed aim at Isabella’s throat. “Quick and painless is the way. One shot. I promise, my darling, she won’t feel a—” his brow furrowed “—thing.” He spun so fast, Isabella missed the move. “What was that?” he demanded. “I heard a sound.”
She glanced at the light on her left, took a careful step toward it. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“There was a squish.”
“Maybe it was a rat.”
“Rats don’t wear shoes.” Baring his teeth, he fired into the shadows. Bits of rock scattered in all directions.
Because she knew it was the only opportunity she’d get, Isabella grabbed the battery light from the wall beside her and smashed it against the stones. She had the second one in her grasp when he swung back and planted a bullet mere inches above her head.
She waited until he whirled, then snatched up the second light and slammed it onto the floor.
“Stop doing that!” He started spinning in circles. “This is my plan! You’re my woman! These are my tunnels!”
With the shadows much denser now, she ducked into the supply area in the corner, scrambled to find anything that might work as a weapon.
The best she could manage was a tall bottle that felt like wine.
“Stop, stop, stop!” David screamed.
More bullets and rock fragments flew. Something—a cat?—hissed. His scream became a startled curse. Seconds later, a hand clamped itself over Isabella’s mouth, and a voice she didn’t recognize growled at her to start crawling.
Although she didn’t argue, she had no idea where she was going or who was pushing on her butt.
“You’re dead!” David shrieked. “Do you hear me, Bella?”
A bullet whizzed past her cheek.
The man behind her pushed harder. “All this for a bunch of frigging antiques. Get the lead out, lady.”
She glimpsed snatches of motion ahead of them. An arm, a sneaker, then finally, a streak of black leather…
“Donovan!” Relief made her muscles go weak. “I knew he wasn’t dead.”
“We will be if you don’t stop dawdling,” the man behind her growled.
“I’m not dawdling. You’re shoving me into a wall.”
“Go the other way then, and let’s get—oomph.”
With a l
oud expulsion of air, his body knocked her into the wall. Before she could turn, a pair of hands came down on her throat.
“No—one—takes—what’s—mine!” David ground out.
Terror spiked, but only for a moment. Then his hands were gone, and she fell back into the stones.
Something skittered across the ground.
“Got you now, lover boy,” David crowed. “I’ll tell Sybil you went down swinging.”
Dazed, Isabella pushed herself upright, shook her head. Her eyes had adjusted enough that she could see David taking aim in silhouette. She shouted his name.
A single bullet rang out. Wheeling to face her, David smirked. Then the smirk faded, and he dropped his arms. After wobbling for a moment, he pitched forward to land less than a foot in front of her.
Leaving the man who’d been shoving her to mutter in the deep shadows, Isabella scanned the area ahead until she found Donovan. He was bruised and bloody and down on one knee. The black cat sat beside him. A dying battery lamp flickered behind him. She saw the faintest of smiles cross his lips. Then his own arm dropped, the light went out, and everything around them went dark.
“I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE,” Haden declared. “All these dreadful shenanigans going on in our quiet little town. I’ve a mind to pack up and move to Nova Scotia.” He flapped a big hand, but otherwise didn’t rouse himself from the dramatic sprawl he’d adopted in the waiting room of Mystic Harbor Hospital. “Any word on Donovan yet?”
“No.” And the worry of that had Isabella prowling the waiting room like a caged tiger.
Wincing, Haden poked at his head. “Don’t you fret about him. Boy’s got a thick skull. A few bumps and bruises won’t faze him. Now, Orry’s in a lot sorrier state, or so he’ll insist. Not because he really is, but as a way to keep public—and he’ll be hoping his wife’s—sympathy on his side.” A dark eye cracked open to glare at Darlene, who was slumped on the couch across from him. “Way I see it, you’re the one needs her head examined. Having sex with Orry? Dammit, girl, you went to school with him and his wife. You ought to be ashamed.”
Arms folded, George stared her sulky daughter down. “An affair with Orry’s the tip of the iceberg, Haden. My girl here was in cahoots with Gordie. She was trying to frighten Isabella into selling the manor and leaving town. All so she could get out herself.”
A defiant Darlene fixed her gaze on the floor. “I wrote her a note, warning her off when I thought Gordie was getting too weird.” Her eyes flicked to Isabella. “I used a sample of poppy red lipstick.”
“After you pretended to be Aaron Dark’s ghost, set up an old suit in one of the manor windows and took three shots at both your lover and your cousin.” George tapped a foot. “Honestly, Darlene, if you didn’t look so miserable, I’d take you over my knee and wallop you. But sheriff Crookshank’ll be bringing enough charges against you that a wallop will seem tame by comparison. And don’t you go giving me any pitiful looks. You did the deeds, you can just pay the price. Wailings and warnings, arrows in doors, a rattlesnake in bed…”
“The rattlesnake was Gordie’s doing. I didn’t know anything about it. Yes to the wail and the warnings, but not the snake.”
“Orry wasn’t involved?”
“No.”
“If that’s true, why did he spend so much time skulking around the manor?” Isabella asked. “And don’t say he was looking for Katie.”
Darlene shrugged. “He was probably looking for me. I think he thought I was sleeping with someone other than him.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Throwing up her hands, George spun away. “Yell at her, will you, Isabella?”
“I’m too worried about Donovan and Katie to yell.” She sent Darlene a pleasant smile. “I’ll take a rain check, though.”
George patted her shoulder. “Donovan’ll be fine. Haden’s right—we Dark descendants have heads of stone. But how’s your poor cousin doing? She must have been terrified tied up in that horrible underground little niche.”
Isabella tried not to recall the expression on Katie’s face when she and Donovan, who’d refused to leave the tunnels until they located her, had followed David’s trail of battery lamps to another cul-de-sac close to the one where he’d trapped Isabella.
She’d been bound and gagged for days. Fed, but also threatened every time one of David’s attempts to abduct Isabella had failed.
“I don’t know why he kept me alive, Bella,” she’d confided on the way back to the house. “Maybe he thought he could use me to draw you in. I should have screamed when I spotted him at the manor, but I was just so shocked. I turned around, and there he was, big as life and twice as crazy. I don’t like to wish people dead, but his death was probably a blessing for everyone involved, including him.”
When a voice came over the hospital PA system, Isabella refocused on her surroundings.
George returned to the couch to harangue Darlene. Haden continued to probe his bandaged head. Out in the hall, Orry’s wife marched back and forth, tight-lipped and scowling.
Isabella murmured, “Would not want to be you right now, Acting Sheriff. Haden, are you sure you shouldn’t spend the night here?”
His horrified expression said it all.
Slipping past the angry Ms. Lucas, Isabelle walked to the far end of the corridor. Voices rose and fell above background music that managed to sound equal parts soothing and eerie.
Outside, the storm still vented its rage on the town. Through the top of the window, she saw lightning bolts snake down in the vicinity of Darkwood Manor.
“Looks like Aaron’s in a bad mood.”
“Donovan!” She turned to face him so quickly they almost banged heads. “You’re—wow—” She drew back in shock. “You’re all black and blue.” Half afraid to touch, she set a gentle fingertip on his bruised cheekbone. “Are you sure you shouldn’t be in bed?”
“That bad, huh?”
“Worse than bad.” Her eyes slid to the graze on his temple. “Do I want to know what the rest of you looks like?”
“Picture a half-wrapped mummy. My right shoulder took the biggest hit. Not from the explosion, but from Orry falling on me.”
She trailed that same gentle finger under his lower lip. “No damage to your mouth, I see. That part’s good.”
He offered a faint smile. “You want to punch me, don’t you?”
Amusement kindled. “Only because I was terrified when I saw you almost collapse in the tunnel. I knew you’d been careless because of me.” Since he was obviously able to walk upright, she nudged him with her hip. “That’s at least ten years off my life, Black. Not as a result of what David did, but from seeing you after he was dead. Dead again.” She exhaled her frustration. “Whatever he is or was, I’m just glad the nightmare’s over.”
With the admission came an overwhelming and unanticipated sense of exhaustion. The moment Donovan eased her head onto his shoulder, the room began to fade in and out.
“I wouldn’t let myself believe he’d killed you. Didn’t matter how clever he claimed to have been, I knew you were alive.” She breathed in the scent of leather and rain and soap and man, waited for the tremor of residual fear to pass, then raised her head. “Who was that man in the tunnel, by the way? The one who grabbed me and shoved me into a wall while you and David were going at each other?”
“He says his name’s Smith. It’s not, but it doesn’t matter. My guess is he’s a smuggler, and he’s been using the caves under Dark Ridge as an offload point for his merchandise.”
“Stolen?”
“Probably. I made a call to a friend in Portland.”
“But he—Smith—helped you tonight. Helped me, anyway. Is it right to turn him in?”
“I gave him twenty-four hours, Isabella. He’ll contact his partner. They’ll close down local operations.”
“Is that what you call an exchange of favors?”
“In a sense. I think we’ll discover the goods he’s been smuggling have already been stolen by someon
e else.”
“So he’s robbing from the rich thieves to give to the poor ones. Why did he agree to help you, and is the cat I saw okay?”
“Cat’s fine. It’s his. And he helped me because the way the tunnels twist and turn placed us at the same hidden entrance at the same time. The door blew, I fell on Smith, Orry fell on me. The cat watched the whole thing from a safe distance.”
She dropped her cheek back onto his shoulder. “Whatever his deal is, I owe him for finding Katie’s watch, then giving it away. It added weight to a story Orry would have otherwise dismissed. Speaking of—how is the acting sheriff?”
“Alive.” Donovan glanced at the woman now whipping to and fro with balled fists and a very flushed face. “For the moment.”
“Bless me!” Haden exclaimed behind them. “You look like you’ve been to hell and back two or three times!”
Lumbering out of the shadows, he hauled the pair of them into a huge bear hug. Then he clapped massive hands onto his nephew’s shoulders, winked at Isabella and announced to everyone within earshot—pretty much the entire ground floor—that there would be a big celebration at his restaurant tomorrow night. Drinks and food would be free, and no one, not even Darlene, would be turned away.
“As for you, Isabella.” He gave her a series of small pats on her back. “You look all in.”
“Feel it,” she agreed. “Is Katie…asleep…?”
If Haden answered, she didn’t hear him. The shadows were creating weird patterns in her head. She knew it was Donovan who lifted her into his arms, and she wanted to object, but the shadows refused to abate.
In her hazing mind, she watched Aaron Dark’s eyes transform into David’s then slowly into Donovan’s. And for the first time since coming to Mystic Harbor, tumbled into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Epilogue
It didn’t end with anything as simple as a good night’s rest. There were still questions to be asked and answered, deaths to be accounted for and apologies to be made.
