by Desiree Holt
“Okay.” Nick looked at Lindsey. “One more time, get down as low as you can.”
Lindsey crouched on the floor, not even daring to breathe as they raced through the city. Finally, they were at another underground garage. Nick parked, helped her out, and led her to the elevator.
The condo was as basic as a place could be, totally without personality. Even in the stress of the situation, she itched to bring in some color, rearrange furniture, give the place some personality.
“Sit,” Nick told her, leading her to the couch. In seconds, he was handing her a glass with some liquid. “Here. Drink this. No argument.”
She frowned. “What is it?”
“Brandy. Just like the other night.” He wrapped her fingers around the tumbler. “Remember, don’t chug it. One big swallow, then sips, but you have to finish it. That’s an order. I’m going to get your stuff.” She heard him moving around for a while, and then he was beside her again, taking the glass from her hands. “Good girl. You drank it all.”
She couldn’t deny the fiery liquid had warmed her blood a little, although it hadn’t reached the knot of cold fear that lay inside her like a huge boulder. More than anything, she wanted to lean against Nick’s solid chest, but her fears and the memory of that phone call wouldn’t let her.
“Shower first, then dinner,” he said. “Then an early night. How does that sound?”
“Nick, why does someone want to kill me?” She couldn’t get that terrifying thought out of her mind.
“I don’t know, Lindsey. Maybe they only want to scare you, but we’ll for sure find out who and why. That’s a promise. This trip should give us some of the answers.”
He led her to one of the bedrooms where he’d put her suitcase and then through another door into the private bath.
“Towels, soap, whatever you need. If you can’t find it, just yell.” He took her cold hands in his warm ones and squeezed them. “You can’t keep up this wall forever, darlin’. Sooner or later—and I’d like it sooner—you’ll have to tell me what the hell is going on. Now go shower.”
She stood under the water for a long time, hoping its heat would melt the cold inside her, but nothing seemed to affect it. Rummaging in her suitcase that Nick left at the foot of the bed, she pulled out a pair of sweats she’d tossed in without really thinking about it. Now she was glad to have the comfort of their warmth and softness.
In the kitchen, she found Nick just turning steaks on a countertop grill. Potatoes were counting down in the microwave.
“I’ll have everything on the table in a few minutes,” he told her and inclined his head toward the counter behind him. “How about pouring us some wine?”
“First the brandy, now the wine.” She had to swallow the urge to laugh. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
He turned his head, and the look he gave her was so intense she had to tear her gaze away from him.
“Sure, if I thought it would work.” Then he looked back at the grill. “Just drink what you want.”
She couldn’t have said whether the food or wine tasted good, but she ate and drank because she knew she needed to. By the time she finished, the terror gripping her had been reduced to a manageable size.
That disappeared, though, when Nick’s cell rang. He looked at the Caller ID and stood up. “I need to take this in the other room.”
“If it’s about me, I should know about it,” she protested.
“If it’s important, I promise I’ll tell you. No sense stirring anything up if we don’t need to.”
But her curiosity drove her to move around to where she could overhear the conversation. And the cold feeling came back icier than ever.
“No, everything’s still okay. I told you I’d make it and I will. We should have this wrapped up before then. After that, it will be my top priority.”
Was it the same woman who’d called him the other night? His next sentence confirmed her suspicion.
“Stacy, when I make a promise, I keep it. Quit worrying, sugar. You know you can count on me.”
Sugar! He called her sugar. Did he toss the word around like a used penny? Well, she’d told herself to expect this, despite his oblique promises of a future. She’d been right to call a halt to what was going on between them. The problem was Nick Vanetta was in her blood and getting over him wouldn’t be the easiest thing to do. Especially when they were about to spend the next few days together. Maybe she should just tell him to put someone else on the case and go to Stacy, whoever and wherever she was.
She tiptoed quietly to the bedroom he’d given her, stripped off her clothes, and crawled into bed. At last, the terror and fatigue of the day caught up with her and she fell into a dreamless sleep.
****
I’m watching you and laughing. Did you like my little trick with the rifle? That was a blast, if you’ll pardon the pun. A little farther to the left…
But no, it’s not time yet. When we get to the end, I want to savor the moment to enjoy every minute of your pain. To watch you bleeding out and know that no one will help you.
You think you’ve lost me again, bitch? Not likely. I don’t care where you go to ground. I’ll find you. I know how to find you. I’ve done my homework well.
I’m patient, you know, and the prize is worth the wait. Pretend you’re secure. You’ll let your guard down, and I’ll be right there.
We’re almost at the end of the game.
Soon, very soon.
Bitch!
Chapter Fifteen
Lindsey was filled with nervous energy when Nick hustled them out of the condo early the next morning.
“I called the pilot and told him we’d be there an hour earlier,” he told her.
“Did something happen overnight?” Oh, god. Now what? She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.
“No.” He shook his head. “I just want us out of the city in case the stalker somehow catches up with us.”
“Down on the floor again, right?” She forced a smile.
“Gotta do it, Lindsey. I refuse to take chances.”
She crouched down under the dashboard but kept her face tilted up so she could still talk to Nick. “I’m really nervous about what we’ll find in Maine.”
“I understand. But it’s the only place we’re going to get the answers you need. And hopefully get a lock on your stalker.”
“You’re right.” She tried to adjust her cramped position, closing her eyes as the truck sped along the streets. “Do we have to change vehicles again?”
“No. We’re good to go in this one.”
Finally, when they hit Interstate 10, he told her she could sit up.
“I need to be two feet shorter if we’re going to do this very often,” she grumbled.
“Sorry about that.” He reached a hand over and helped her up onto the seat.
At the airport he drove to a private hangar in the charter service area. A sleek Gulfstream Five stood glistening in the sun, the Guardian logo painted discreetly in navy blue on the white surface. A man in a pilot’s uniform came out of the building next to it and walked over to Nick.
“Nice to see you again, Mr. Vanetta. It’s usually Mr. Sullivan who flies with us.”
“We decided he shouldn’t have all the fun.” Nick grinned. He turned to Lindsey. “Miss Ferrell is our client on this trip. Let’s be sure we take good care of her.”
“Absolutely.” The pilot shook Lindsey’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
A second man, also in uniform, retrieved their luggage from the car and carried it onto the plane.
Lindsey gaped when they finally climbed the stairs into the cabin. The interior was beyond anything she was used to. She and her parents had never traveled outside of Texas, preferring to take their vacations in the many spots the state had to offer. At least that’s what they had always planned. When she found it necessary to fly for whatever reason, she always felt like a sardine packed in a can.
But this…this was unbelievable. The
cabin was outfitted with six lounge chairs, each with a table bolted to the floor next to it that could be swung over to use for work or dining. There were two couches and an overhead television that the chairs could be swiveled to face. To the left as they entered the jet, she glimpsed a small kitchen completely outfitted.
“There’s a bedroom and bathroom through there,” Nick pointed, “if you want to freshen up or anything.” He chuckled at the look on her face. “Not bad for a poor bodyguard, right?”
“Maybe I’m paying you too much,” she joked.
“Actually, I think you’re only paying for one of the chairs.” He buckled into the seat next to her. “We didn’t take time to eat this morning because I wanted to get going. I don’t know about you, but I’m starved. Ed will serve us breakfast once we’re off the ground. “
The flight was pleasant and comfortable. Except for the understated hum and vibration, Lindsey felt as if she were sitting in a living room. The breakfast could have come from a gourmet restaurant and was served with a minimum of fuss.
If only she wasn’t so tied up in knots.
She had to get her feelings for Nick under control. She didn’t own him, after all. Quinn had been specific about Nick’s wanderlust where women were concerned so why was she surprised when he was talking to other women while supposedly discussing a future with her? She figured all the things he’d said to her were just part of his usual treatment of whatever woman he was with.
Wait! He told you he’d never had another woman in his house.
True, but that just meant he stayed in the house of whoever he was seeing.
Sex with him had almost become addictive. Now she had to keep remembering his sweet words were just that—sweet words. Making love. No, scratch that. Better not personalize it too much. Having sex with Nick had given her an unbelievable sense of well-being. But then, the overheard telephone calls wiped away that euphoria, leaving her with a cold dose of reality.
She resented Nick playing her the way he was, making her feel something that obviously didn’t exist. When this was over, she still had to keep the pieces of her life together. Nick would no doubt go back to his normal, uncommitted life. Selfishly, she hoped he’d carry some of the memories with him, but there was no guarantee of that, either.
Well, she couldn’t say she hadn’t been warned. She’d have to look at it as a onetime gift to herself.
Despite all that, she trusted him completely to keep her safe. Today, he seemed totally relaxed, even in the face of the growing tension of the situation.
“More coffee, Miss Ferrell?”
She jumped at the sound of Ed’s voice. “No. Thank you.”
She tipped her chair back and tried to read the book she’d shoved into her purse, but after fifteen minutes, she realized she was still on the same page. Nick had taken his laptop out of his briefcase as soon as he finished eating and worked steadily until they made a brief landing at about one o’clock.
“We’re just dropping something off for Reno,” he told her. “We’ll probably top off the tanks and be wheels up again in a few minutes.”
When they were back in the air, Ed served them a lunch of club sandwiches and cold drinks. While they ate, Nick asked her again about life in Cibolo when she was growing up.
“Maybe there’s something hidden away in your mind that might give us a clue,” he pointed out.
“I doubt it.” Nervously, she tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. “My life was very normal. Almost boring you might say.”
She told him stories about Ruben and Mary and talked about how she and Quinn met at school one day and instantly became friends.
“You know,” she said, wrinkling her forehead, “I remember an air of sadness that always hung over my parents. We never had relatives we visited or even had any contact with, and my parents had very few close friends. Quinn’s parents were probably the closest thing we had to an extended family.”
Nick listened attentively, and she could tell he was processing everything she said. Talking about herself and her parents took Lindsey out of the conflict raging inside her, and she began to feel the knots unravel. By the time they reached Bangor, however, the photos and the stalker were front and center in her mind again, and the knots in her stomach were retying themselves.
When she walked off the plane at the Bangor airport, she felt as if she was stepping off a precipice with a great cavern yawning before her.
It will be all right.
She had to keep telling herself that, even though no one could promise her it would be so.
A stocky man in jeans and a plaid shirt was waiting for them at the aviation office. He greeted Nick as they came off the plane. “Dan Gregory.”
“Nick Vanetta.” They shook hands. “I think you usually work with Reno.”
Dan nodded. “He called and explained what you needed. The vehicle’s over there. The dark blue one.” He pointed. “Here are the keys, and your confirmation for tonight at the Fairfield Inn right near here. You’ll also find a map of Bangor and one of Maine in the glove box.”
“Thanks.” Nick took the keys from him.
“I was able to take care of the situation on Indian Island, too.” He handed over an envelope. “All the information’s in here.”
Nick introduced Lindsey and thanked Dan for his work. After telling the pilot they’d be calling the Guardian office when they were ready for pickup, he helped Lindsey into the SUV. “The motel’s only about five minutes from here. Let’s check in and get our bearings. I want to call the office and see if they’ve come up with anything else.”
Lindsey held her breath when Nick registered for them at the hotel, then breathed more easily when the clerk handed them two keys. He handed Lindsey hers, his eyes full of questions, then picked up their luggage and headed toward their rooms.
“I have some calls to make,” he told her, unlocking her door. “After that, I think we should go over the maps Dan left for us. Would you rather do it in my room or yours?”
“Yours is fine. I’m just going to unpack enough for tonight so I won’t be a minute.”
“Good.” After making sure she was settled in her room and there were no surprises waiting for them, he unlocked the connecting door and walked into his room without another word.
His feelings couldn’t be clearer if he slammed it. But I can’t change things. In the end, I’ll be the one who gets hurt.
****
Nick ended the last of his calls and tossed the cell phone onto the table. He unfolded the maps Dan had given him but found himself unable to concentrate. What the hell was wrong with Lindsey? The way she had shut herself off from him he might as well have had the measles. He racked his brain, trying to think of anything he’d done or said that could have kicked this off but nothing clicked.
He didn’t ever remember a woman affecting him this way, slamming into him with the force of a freight train. The feelings and emotions were strange to him, but they also told him this was something special. Something he’d better take care of. For the first time in his life, he no longer had the urge to sample everything he was offered. He had a one-item menu and planned to stick to it.
If he could get Lindsey to open up to him.
Okay, so maybe this had started out with the suddenness of an explosion, but she’d been as affected as he was. He knew it. So what had made her put the brakes on? No, not just jam on the brakes but withdraw from him in all but the most polite ways? This wasn’t the time to push her, but as soon as they wrapped this up, he was damn sure going to find out.
Damn it all, anyway.
Rolling up his sleeves, he tried to turn his attention back to the maps.
****
When Lindsey walked into his room, Nick was poring over the maps spread out on the round table by the window.
“Anything?” she asked, sitting down opposite him.
“I think so, but I want to wait until we get some dinner and relax before I go over it with you. Dan marked the l
ibrary on the map of Bangor and highlighted the route to Bar Harbor, so we shouldn’t have any trouble with directions.”
“What did he mean, he took care of Indian Island?”
“I wanted to be able to stay there, if possible,” he explained. “You know, blend in a little and engage people in conversation. Only there are no motels or inns on the island itself. However, Dan has a small firm here that provides security for a lot of the people on the island. One of his clients has a cottage he’s happy to let us use while we’re here.”
Lindsey cocked an eyebrow. “Is there any place where you don’t have connections?”
“I hope not.” He winked. “We’d be in big trouble if there was.”
The wink made her heart stutter, and she turned away so he wouldn’t see its effect on her.
They spent what was left of the afternoon reviewing the notes they’d made. To Lindsey it was almost as if he were making sure he had all the players organized in his mind before taking the next step. He probably saw resolution. She saw a yawning precipice and had to swallow the nausea climbing up in her throat.
They chose a restaurant near the motel for dinner. As soon as they were seated, Nick ordered drinks for them—whiskey and water. When Lindsey countered with a request for wine, Nick shook his head.
“Bourbon’s better. You’ll need something stronger.”
“You haven’t said a word about what you learned from your office. Is the news you have so bad you have to get me drunk to tell me?”
“No. I just want you fortified to absorb it.” His voice was matter-of-fact as he explained what he’d been told. “The couple in the picture is, in fact, your parents. That’s definite. The guys at the office compared the photos we found with the ones you had using facial recognition software.”
“But that’s impossible.” Lindsey felt as if she’d landed on another planet. “That just can’t be true. My parents never left Texas.”
“Not after you were born,” Nick reminded her. “Their names before that were Marie Elizabeth and Brent Andrew Dolman. They owned a large summer home on Indian Island, a place that had been in Brent’s family for years. Marie’s family also had a home there. The boy in the pictures was her older brother, George.”
