by Elle James
“We can’t imagine living anywhere else but Cape Churn.” Kayla tweaked the baby’s little chin. The three-month-old grinned up at her, her light fuzz of red hair so much like her mother’s it made Emma’s chest tighten.
Emma paced to the end of the living room and turned, her heart fluttering when she thought she saw a face in the window. She stopped and stared, but nothing was there except the dense fog. Completing her about-face, she almost ran over Moby as he stood staring at the same spot. Emma bent and ruffled Moby’s ears. “Are you seeing ghosts, too?”
“Ghosts?” Kayla asked. “Is the fog getting to you?”
“Yeah. I swear I’m seeing Randy’s rat-fink face.”
Kayla clutched Tonya to her chest and stared out the window, her eyes narrowed. “Did they ever find his body?”
“No. But they found his car at the bottom of a cliff, almost completely submerged in the surf. The man had to be dead. No one could survive a crash like that.”
“And he took the money to his grave. The detectives couldn’t trace it through the banks?”
“Sadly, no.” Emma made another pass the length of the living room. “I guess the fog’s got me seeing ghosts. I’m imagining all the worst things.”
“Like?”
“Something bad happening to Creed and his team.”
“They’re trained professionals. They’ll be okay.”
“From Creed’s description of Phillip Macias, he’s a pretty dangerous guy. He’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants, and he has no qualms about killing anyone who gets in his way.”
“Nice guy.”
“Not the kind of man you want to meet in a back alley.” Emma clapped a hand over her mouth, remembering too late that Kayla had been attacked in a back alley by a serial killer. “Sorry.”
Kayla cradled Tonya with one hand and brushed the base of her throat with the other. “It’s okay. I don’t think about it much anymore.”
“I can’t imagine going through what you did and not coming out with some emotional scars.”
“It helps to have a loving husband to hold you at night when the bad dreams come.” Kayla stared down at her baby. “Tonya and I wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t been for Gabe. I love him so much.”
Emma stopped pacing to stare at the woman and baby, a lump the size of a sweat sock lodged in her throat. An image of Creed formed in her mind—the one of him holding her in his arms as she fell asleep. She’d told him she didn’t need him. Didn’t want him around when he’d just leave her behind as soon as the job was done. Her problem was that the more she saw of him, the more she wanted to see.
She’d pushed him away to spare her heart, but she feared her heart was already too invested in the man to let go now. Not that it mattered. When they captured Macias and put him away, Creed would move on. He’d said so. He wasn’t a staying kind of guy—his words. She’d gone into the relationship knowing that, her mind accepting the temporariness of a fling with Creed. Unfortunately, her heart hadn’t listened to that part.
While Emma had been staring at Kayla, seeing Creed, Kayla had crossed the floor and placed a hand on her arm. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.” Emma swallowed hard.
“Is it Creed? Are you worried about him?” Kayla asked.
Emma nodded. “Yes.” She was very worried about him. With Macias on the loose and looking for his diamonds, none of his team was safe, especially not Creed. But it was more than that.
“Emma?” Kayla squeezed her arm. “Are you in love with Creed?”
The question caught her off guard. She stepped backward, bumping into the couch. “What did you say?”
“Are you in love with Creed?”
She shook her head, her heart swelling. “How can I be in love with a man I’ve only known three days?”
Kayla smiled. “I knew the moment I met Gabe. Or at least my heart did. It took a day or two for my head to catch up.”
Emma shook her head again. “I can’t be in love with him. I know nothing about him, not to mention I’m a terrible judge of character.”
“You can’t base all your relationships on your experience with Randy. He was a liar, a cheat and a user. Lower than a scum-sucking slug.”
“Yeah, and I would have married him.”
“But you didn’t. Thank God.”
“Why is Creed any different? He lies for a living. That’s what special agents do. They go in undercover, which is another word for lie, get people to trust them, and then pow! He’ll be gone, and whoever had the misfortune of falling in love with him will be left alone, empty, pathetic.”
“Are you afraid that will be you?” Kayla gave her a sad smile. “You’ve already fallen for him, and now you’re waiting for him to leave.”
“He will.”
“Maybe not. You’re a beautiful woman with a lot to offer a man. Surely he’ll see that and come back.”
“He told me up front that he wasn’t into commitment. Not to get attached. I agreed with him.” Emma laughed, her heart empty of any trace of humor. “I agreed with him.”
“A man can change his mind. I saw his face when he dropped you off.”
“The face of a man glad to get me off his hands?”
Kayla shook her head. “No the face of a man worried about the woman he loves.”
“You’re seeing things, like I’m seeing ghosts of my dead fiancé.”
“Look, you’re distraught. Let me get you a cup of hot cocoa. Something to calm you. After you get a good night’s sleep, the fog will lift, the sun will shine and everything will be better in the morning.”
“You’re far too optimistic for me,” Emma grumbled.
“Yeah, we’ve kind of switched roles, haven’t we? Being optimistic was your job, but since you’re falling down on it, I guess it’s my turn.” Kayla smiled and offered her Tonya. “Do you mind holding her while I check on Dakota? He’s supposed to be staying the night at a friend’s house. I want to make sure he got there okay after they went to the movie, what with the fog and him such a new driver.”
“Sure.” Emma took Tonya into her arms. The tiny baby snuggled against her, yawned and turned her face toward Emma’s breast, searching for mother’s milk. That single movement tugged so hard at Emma’s heart, her eyes misted and she fought to keep from crying. Until now, she hadn’t realized just how much she wanted a baby of her own.
Frustrated by the fabric when she was searching for comfort, Tonya stuffed her fist in her little mouth and sucked on the wad of fingers.
Emma swallowed hard on the lump in her throat. “Are you certain she’s not still hungry?”
“She nursed for thirty minutes. I’d say she’s full or about to go into another growth spurt.” Kayla lifted the phone from the receiver. “I’d text Dakota, but I’m not getting any reception on my cell phone. I think the fog plays havoc with the cell towers as well as with road conditions.”
“They don’t call it the Devil’s Shroud for nothing,” Emma muttered. “I bet they’re going to be busy at the hospital tonight.”
“I know. I wish Gabe wasn’t working tonight. Things are always weird when the fog rolls in.”
Emma tried not to think about how weird. Somewhere out there, Creed and his team had the diamonds Phillip Macias wanted. How far would he go to get them back? He’d already tried to kill them three times.
As much as she loved Kayla and Tonya’s company, Emma would rather have been with Creed on a night like this. But she was glad she hadn’t stayed at home, alone.
“Hi, this is Kayla McGregor. Dakota was supposed to call me when the boys got back from the movie.” Kayla spoke into the phone. “He did get there, didn’t he?” She paused to listen, her tense shoulders relaxing. “Oh, good. No. No. I don’t want to bother him, I just wanted to know he’s saf
e. The fog’s so thick, I worried he’d run off the road. I will. Thank you.” Kayla hung up and smiled across at Emma. “He made it okay.”
Pushing back her own sadness, Emma forced a smile. “How’s life with a baby and a teenager?”
“It’s different. Tonya is the best baby...well, besides still getting up in the middle of the night to nurse. And Dakota is turning out to be quite a gentleman and a very talented young artist.”
“With you as a stepmother, how could he go wrong?” Emma glanced around at the easel leaning near the window, searching for anything to keep her mind off the baby, Creed and the fog outside. “Speaking of art, what are you working on now?”
“A portrait I had to put on hold when I went into labor with Tonya. It’s for Andrew Stratford.” She walked to the window and turned the painting so that the light shone down on it. The painting depicted a small girl with pale blond hair hanging in soft curls down to her waist. She wore a white cotton dress with white eyelet trim. In one hand, she held a doll, while the other rested on a black Labrador retriever almost as big as her. Both appeared so lifelike it took Emma’s breath away.
Emma sighed. “It’s beautiful.”
Kayla’s brows wrinkled. “Do you think so?”
“Oh, yes. I do.”
“Have you seen Leigha Stratford?”
“Mr. Stratford had me come out to the house once to check her out. She’d fallen and scraped her knee. He didn’t want to bring her to the hospital because he was afraid of all the germs.” Emma smiled. “She didn’t say a word, nor did she shed a single tear as I cleaned the wound and applied antiseptic ointment. You’ve captured her perfectly.”
“I don’t know. There’s something wrong with her face. It’s too...”
“Sad?” Emma finished, her gaze going to the baby in her arms. Tonya had fallen to sleep, a smile curling her tiny lips. So peaceful, content and untouched by the harshness of the world around her. She suspected Leigha had been traumatized sometime in her young life.
“Yeah,” Kayla was saying. “I think it bothers me that she looks so sad in the painting.”
“But it’s her. She had that same expression on her face when I was out there.” Emma’s heart squeezed for the little girl living a solitary life on her father’s big estate. “She needs friends to play with.”
“I know.” Kayla continued to stare at the painting. “I guess I wish I could paint her happy.”
“That would be nice if we could paint our worlds the way we want them.”
“Sounds easier than taking it as is.”
“In some ways. But then how often do we think we want something, yet it’s the opposite thing we really need?” Emma thought she’d wanted to be relationship free. Deep down, she needed the love of another person in her life.
“If I could paint things the way I thought I wanted them, I wouldn’t have Gabe in my life. I pushed him away when we first met.”
Just like Emma was pushing Creed away.
“You have the magic touch. Look how happy she is.” Kayla took the baby from Emma’s hands, cradling her in her arms. “She’ll sleep most of the night now. I’m going to put her in her bed, and then I’ll bring out some blankets and a pillow for you.”
“I’m okay, take your time. Moby needs to go outside before I call it a night.”
“You might want to keep him on a leash and stay close to the house. You don’t want him falling off the cliff because he didn’t see it. Or you, too, for that matter.”
“I’ll hang close,” Emma promised. She snapped Moby’s leash onto his collar, and he danced all around her as she headed for the door. “You’ve been a pretty good sport about all this. Let’s keep it that way, okay?” Not too excited about stepping off the porch into the fog, Emma leaned back, bracing her legs for when Moby lunged for freedom.
As if he sensed the danger of running off into the fog, Moby stayed close to her heels and walked down the steps with more control than she’d ever seen in him. Though full grown, Moby was a perpetual puppy, even at four years old. Emma wondered when he’d slow down and be less rambunctious, but was glad he still had that youthful exuberance. It kept her on her toes and helped her maintain her own upbeat attitude. Especially when Randy had left her, taking the hospital’s money.
Unlike his usual happy-go-lucky self, Moby was stiff tonight and suspicious of the fog.
Emma walked with Moby across the front of the house. When they reached the end, Moby growled, the short hairs on the back of his neck rising. He planted his paws in the damp soil and stood so still he could have been a statue.
“What’s wrong, Moby?” Emma’s breath caught in her throat, and she strained to listen for any sound of movement. All she heard were the waves splashing against the cliffs far below.
When she tried to take another step, Moby crossed in front of her and stood braced, facing the socked-in, fog-shrouded side of the house, a low growl rumbling in his chest.
Uneasy and a little scared on the wake of talking about serial killers with Kayla, Emma backed up a step, tugging on Moby’s leash. “Come on. Let’s go back into the house.”
Moby didn’t budge, refusing to back down from whatever had him concerned.
Emma tugged again, determined to get back inside with the dog.
Moby was having none of it. One moment he was braced for whatever threat he could sense. In the next second, he lunged, yanking the leash right out of Emma’s hands.
“Moby!” she called out as the dog disappeared, swallowed by the Devil’s Shroud, the only evidence he was even out there the sound of wild barking.
“Moby!” Emma ran around the side of the house, following the barking. It sounded as if it was coming from the back of the house. Every possible scenario flashed through her mind as she ran after Moby. The crashing of waves against the rocky shoreline far below was enough to make her crazy with the fear Moby would run off the edge of the cliff and fall to his death.
“Moby!”
When she reached the back edge of the house, she had to decide whether to follow the dog into the fog and get lost herself or retreat and pray Moby would find his way back without falling over the cliff.
Moby’s barking became more frenzied and turned into vicious growling.
“Moby! Come!” she cried out. What had he gotten into? Was there a wild animal out there?
Torn, she balanced on the balls of her feet, her heart booming in her chest. She wished she could see where she was going and what was happening with her dog.
Then Moby yelped, that kind of yelp that meant he’d been hurt. His plaintive whine wrenched Emma’s heart, and she ran toward the sound. “Moby?” She couldn’t see him, and for a moment thought she might be going the wrong way, when the dog whined again from a few feet ahead.
Emma ran forward, her hands in front of her to keep her from slamming face-first into a tree. She felt as if she was running away from the cliffs, possibly back toward the road, but she couldn’t be sure.
The only thing she was certain of was that Moby needed her, and she couldn’t stop until she found him. “Moby?” she called out.
The dog whined, his sad cries leading her to him. Afraid she’d step on him, Emma dropped to her hands and knees and felt along the ground. As dark as it was, she might as well close her eyes. No light penetrated the thick fog.
She almost crawled on top of Moby.
The dog lay on his side, whimpering softly as Emma ran her hands over his body. “What’s wrong with you, boy? What happened?”
Her hand settled on his ribs and a pool of warm, sticky liquid. The coppery scent of blood filled her senses. “Oh, baby, you’re bleeding. What happened?” She wished the animal could talk and tell her. But the important thing was that she’d found him, hopefully in time to help. “We have to get you to a vet. Come on.” She rose to her
feet, scooped her hands beneath his big hairy body and tried to lift him. He whimpered, his head lolling to the side.
Emma refused to leave her dog out in the fog for whatever animal had attacked him to finish him off. “Come on, Moby, we’re getting out of here.” She braced her back and lifted with her legs. “What was it you weighed last time we were at the vet? Eighty pounds?” She grunted and straightened, staggering under the weight. “I think you’ve gained a pound or two.”
Moby whined as she jostled his body, walking back the way she’d come. Or at least the way she thought she’d come. “Hang on, Moby. You’re going to be okay.”
A fuzzy light glowed ahead and Emma aimed for it, praying it was the light from the back porch of the house. As she neared, she realized it was too close to the ground and bobbing. Perhaps it was a flashlight and Kayla had come out to find her.
“Oh, Kayla, you shouldn’t have come out. What if you got lost in the fog? No one would be at the house with Tonya.”
As she moved closer to the light, it moved away. Emma followed, the light her only beacon in an otherwise foggy black world. “Wait,” she called out, barely able to keep up with the heavy load she carried. “Are we headed the right way?”
Why wasn’t Kayla answering?
A moment later, she stumbled up a rise and found herself on the blacktop road. “What the hell?” Her Jeep was back at the cottage, and that was a long walk from the road. Her back ached, and Moby wasn’t moving anymore. “Hang on, buddy, I’ll get you there.”
A silhouette stepped through the fog, materializing into a darkly dressed man wearing a black trench coat and black cap on his head, the bill pulled down over his face.
“Put the dog down,” said a disembodied voice, one she knew all too well.
Chapter 13
Creed floored the accelerator, his heart beating so hard he could hear it booming in his ears. He had to get to Emma.
“This is suicide!” Tazer crawled over the console and into the front seat, slamming against the dash as Creed missed a turn, ran into a ditch and powered back up onto the blacktop. “The fog is too bad to be driving this fast. Slow down, Creed.”
