by Sheryl Lynn
Soot blackened Daniel’s face. His eyes glittered like burnished flint. She knew what he was thinking, because she was thinking the same thing herself. Pinky would pay for this.
It was nearly midnight before Janine finished with the paramedics and the sheriff. The paramedics had wanted to transport her to a hospital. Along with smoke inhalation she had a gash in her forehead from a rusty nail. She’d allowed them to bandage the cut and to treat her with a few whiffs of oxygen to clear her lungs, but refused to leave the resort. She told the sheriff about the stalker. He kept asking whether she was sure she didn’t know who Pinky was, as though if he asked enough times she would suddenly know. His attitude said there was something wrong with her. A few of his questions made her think he blamed her for goading Pinky into setting the fire.
She retreated to her bedroom. She immediately jumped into the shower as much to rid herself of humiliation as to wash away the stench of smoke.
She’d hated Pinky before. She absolutely, with all her heart and soul, detested him now.
A knock on the door made her freeze. Her heart seemed to rattle in her chest. She clutched her robe at her throat. “Who is it?”
“Daniel.”
She opened the door. Smiling, he hoisted the tray he carried. He’d showered and changed his clothing, looking none the worse for their ordeal. A leather carryall was slung over his shoulder. Glad for a friendly face, she invited him inside.
“Your sister made us some food. Sandwiches, salad. Chocolate cake.” He winked. “Bourbon. I could use a drink. How about you?”
She usually didn’t drink more than an occasional glass of wine. At the moment she wouldn’t overly object to getting good and sloshy drunk. “How are you?”
“Still tasting smoke, but I’m okay.” He dropped the bag on the floor, set the tray on a table and poured generous quantities of bourbon into a pair of crystal tumblers. “Take it neat, tough girl?”
“Not that tough. Ice and water, please.” She fiddled with the neckline of her robe. Made of heavy satin it covered her from neck to toes, but she was all too aware of her nakedness underneath. Her skin was still warm and damp from the long shower she’d taken, and the fabric clung to her hips. She watched his hands while he mixed the drinks and uncovered the food and snapped out linen napkins.
He’d saved her life. He’d risked having the roof fall on his head while making sure she’d gotten out of the garage first. Her throat choked up.
He handed her a drink. “Nice room. Looks like you.”
She wondered what he meant by that. Years as an army brat had turned her into a minimalist as far as possessions were concerned. She had little interest in knickknacks. The room was rather plain, with mauve-painted walls enlivened by framed fine-art prints. The furniture was functional; her only concessions to luxury were the designer linens on the bed. She caught him peering at a stack of paperback novels. She loved sexy historical romances, gory horror stories and trashy Hollywood glitzy sagas. His interest discomfited her.
She sipped the bourbon and water. The alcohol burned her throat, but warmed her belly. He was the first man, other than a relative, who’d ever been inside her private room.
A man who’d risked his life to save hers. “I owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
She picked up a sandwich. It was too late to eat, but her stomach gurgled indelicately. “Back in the garage. When I fired you.”
“I’m fired?” His sunny good humor teased a smile from her.
She should fire him. He was obnoxious...he’d saved her life. “I don’t appreciate men making passes at me. Especially when I have a job to do.”
He regarded her. “I stepped out of line.”
“You did.”
“Can I plead temporary insanity?”
She bit into the sandwich before he caught her smiling.
“Sorry about your head.” His fingertips grazed the bandage. Even that light touch made her wince. “I didn’t have time to check for nails.”
“I’m thankful you figured out how to get us out. I was starting to panic. I never would have thought of breaking through the wall.”
“Breaking boards is my specialty.” He flashed a cocky grin. “It drives the chicks wild.”
A laugh burst free before she could stop it. She quickly gained control. “Sit down and eat.”
“How did the cops do with the interviews?”
Good humor fled. “The sheriff doesn’t believe me about Pinky. He acted as if I’m deliberately concealing Pinky’s identity. Or that it’s somehow my fault the garage burned down.”
“Humph. I should have warned you. Cops have a bad habit of forgetting who the victim is. Did I tell you my stalker had me arrested?”
“You mentioned it.” Appetite gone, she set the sandwich on the plate. She eyed her drink, seriously considering the oblivion alcohol offered.
“Buck up. We’ll catch him. He’ll get tagged with attempted murder and arson.”
She didn’t see how. Nobody claimed to have seen anyone hanging around the garage before the fire. Nobody confessed to setting the blaze. Anger washed through her. “I gave Pinky’s letters and cards to the sheriff. He probably thinks they’re cute. Like mash notes from a teenager.”
He chewed thoughtfully on a steak and cheese sandwich. He toyed with a pickle spear. “One good thing. Pinky isn’t worried about your father anymore. My plan is working out great.”
“I am so relieved,” she said dryly. The fire today was going to seem like a picnic compared to how the colonel was going to react when he found out she’d been concealing her problem with Pinky. “What if he decides to set the lodge on fire?”
He ate half the sandwich before he wiped his mouth with a napkin and replied. “I doubt it. Yeah, he lost it at the garage, but there was a lot of temptation. Gas cans sitting around. You and me alone in a private place. I have a feeling he reacted before he realized he could hurt you.”
The door drew her gaze. As a precaution the sheriff had assigned a deputy to patrol the resort. She wished for an occupying army. “What if he knows you’re in here right now?”
“No gas cans sitting in the hallway.”
“Don’t be flippant. He tried to murder us.”
He reached across the small table and placed a hand over hers. Her breath caught in her throat. When he joked around and acted like a chauvinistic clown, she found him easy to dismiss as just another conceited, too-big-for-his-britches playboy. With his eyes gazing steadily into hers he appeared somehow dangerous. And sexy. Her belly did a little flip-flop.
“I won’t let anything happen to you, Janine.” He squeezed her fingers.
“Who will make sure nothing happens to you?”
His smile caught her off guard. “Why, cupcake, I do believe you care.” Chuckling, he returned his attention to the food. “Don’t you worry about me.”
It bothered her deeply that she was doing exactly that. “In any case, you’ve done your job. I thank you with all my heart. But it is time for you to leave.”
“I haven’t finished my sandwich.”
“I was thinking about in the morning.”
He made a dismissive sound. “I thought I wasn’t fired.”
“The police are involved now. They’ll find Pinky. It’s too dangerous for you to stay here.”
“If Pinky runs me off, then he’ll get the idea that violence is the answer to his problems.”
“He wouldn’t dare.”
“Don’t count on it. Since he attacked in broad daylight he doesn’t care about witnesses. It’s plain dumb luck nobody saw him.”
She clamped her arms over her bosom and focused on him her most frigid glare.
“Look at this situation from his point of view. You’re his goddess, the love of his life. He needs an excuse to justify his own cowardice. Who do you want him to blame, me or your dad?”
“But the police—”
“He may very well be a sociopath and capable of lying convinc
ingly to the police.” He freshened her drink with a splash of bourbon. “We can’t let him think for a second that he can control you with violence.”
Sickening visions of Pinky murdering her father turned her shaky inside.
“You can’t placate these nuts. You can’t let them take control. You have to push back, fight back. No amount of wishing makes them go away.”
“How am I supposed to fight back when I don’t even know who he is?”
“Don’t let him run me off.”
If it were only her own safety at risk, she would argue. She would accept the protection offered by the police and suffer Pinky’s harassment. But if Pinky could so blithely attempt to burn her to death, who knew what he’d do to her father. “I’m scared if we make him mad he’ll hurt the colonel.”
“I’ll keep him so busy he won’t even think about your dad. I promise.” He yawned mightily and covered his mouth with his hand. “Sorry.”
“You must be exhausted. I’ll show you to your room. It’s just down the hall.”
“I’m staying here.” He jerked a thumb at the door. “Rustle me up a blanket and share a few pillows. I’ll be fine on the floor.”
Awareness of her nakedness under the robe warmed her blood. She wished Daniel did look like Raymond Burr, preferably grossly overweight. “Is that necessary?”
“It is until we know for certain Pinky doesn’t have access to room keys.” He shifted on the chair and reached to his side. A fastener snapped. He placed a handgun on the table.
Her eyebrows raised. The colonel had taught all his children weapons safety and how to shoot. Still, the sight of such compact deadliness dismayed her. “A Luger 9 mm. Nice. Do you have a concealed carry permit?”
His sudden smile dazzled her. For a scant second she forgot Pinky and the handgun. Nothing mattered except the powerful warmth of his smile. If only he weren’t such a conceited jackass....
“The lady knows peashooters. I think I’m in love. And yes, I have a concealed carry permit. Who other than you has a key to this room?”
“My mother.”
“Is there a master key?”
She winced. “Yes.”
“Prepare a pallet then, woman. I’m your guard dog tonight.”
Chapter Four
At 5:00 a.m. on the dot Janine awakened. She glared at the clock. Around three in the morning she’d snapped wide awake. It had finally hit her—Pinky had tried to murder her. Shaking with chills despite the sweat suit she wore to bed, she’d spent the rest of the night hugging a pillow and listening for the beastly roar of flames. She’d finally drifted back to sleep, but habit awakened her. No amount of exhaustion would allow her to go back to sleep now.
Groggy and irritable, she tiptoed around in the dark so as not to disturb Daniel. By feel she selected slacks, a sweater and a blazer and carried them into the bathroom. She glumly studied her face in the mirror. The scratch on her head was reddened and inflamed. It hurt to touch it. No way would she consider putting makeup atop the wound. “Not so gorgeous now,” she muttered. She hoped Pinky got a good look at her “perfect” face today and felt bad about it.
After she showered, dried her hair and dressed, she opened the door a crack and peered out. She couldn’t see Daniel in the darkness. She wanted to let him sleep, but she had a resort to run.
“Too late to awaken me with a kiss.”
She choked back a scream. He turned on the table lamp. Seated with a foot on his knee and his hands clasped behind his neck, he grinned at her.
Despite heavy beard shadow and messy hair, he looked as if he’d enjoyed the sleep of innocents. Her grouchy mood darkened further. “I thought you were still asleep.”
“With you stomping around? For such a petite woman you sure do make a lot of noise. I could swear you don’t weigh more than one-twenty, but I guess you’re packing a lot more than that under your clothes.”
She chuffed a harsh breath. “I will have you know—” She shut her mouth, too late realizing he teased her.
He dropped his foot to the floor and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “We’re both early risers. We have a lot in common.”
“We have nothing in common.” She looked pointedly at her watch. “I have work to do. If you’re going to play bodyguard, you have exactly fifteen minutes to grab a shower.”
He snatched up his bag and scooted into the bathroom. She gathered the blankets and pillows off the floor. She pressed a pillow to her nose. It smelled of soap and shampoo, and it roused memories of sex. She groaned and tossed the pillow onto the bed. Celibate for years, she usually didn’t think about sex. She especially didn’t want to think about sex in conjunction with Daniel Tucker.
He was ready to go in ten minutes.
Downstairs the resort staff had already swung into high gear for another busy day. Clanging, banging, rattling and Chef’s temperamental shouting emerged from the kitchen along with the aroma of baking bread and roasting meats. Housekeepers loaded up carts with cleaning supplies. Janine wondered which one of them had tried to burn her to death in a stinky old garage. Everyone looked guilty.
She stopped in the kitchen to fill a carafe with coffee before she and Daniel went to her office. Her phone began ringing before she had a chance to sit down. Maintenance wanted her approval to begin cleaning up the burn site. A reporter wanted details about the fire. Guest services needed advice about what to tell guests who were upset about the rumors of arson. Between calls she logged invoices into the computer. Daniel sat quietly on a small sofa, moving only to refill her coffee cup. She appreciated his silence.
A knock startled her. Hot coffee splashed her hand and she cursed under her breath. She noticed Daniel sliding a hand over the bulge of the holster on his hip. She called, “Come in.”
A man showed a badge and introduced himself as Walt Helmsley, an investigator with the state police. Another man materialized in the doorway behind the investigator. Glad to see the sheriffs department uniform and a friendly face, Janine smiled in welcome.
“Daniel Tucker,” she said, “Mr. Helmsley and Sergeant Mike Downes.” She diverted her telephone calls to voice mail. “Gentleman, I’ve hired Mr. Tucker to help me find the stalker. I can’t recall everyone I talked to yesterday. Do you know about Pinky?”
“The sheriff briefed us,” Mike said. His expression radiated concern. As an old friend of the family, the deputy sheriff had a personal stake in what happened at Elk River. “I want to hear it from you. Start over from the beginning.” He and the state police investigator brought out pens and notebooks.
She began with losing her organizer book and ended with why she had hired Daniel. She thought repeated telling should get easier. It did not. The story sounded stupid. She felt stupid.
Mike’s forehead knit as if he felt angry as well as concerned. He glanced at Daniel then back to her. “Why didn’t you come to me, Janine? I take threats against the colonel seriously.”
Relieved he didn’t follow the sheriff’s lead in blaming her for Pinky, she said, “I didn’t want the police involved.”
“I’m a friend, too.” He sounded hurt.
Catching herself pulling her hair, she dropped her hand onto the desk. She toyed with a paper clip. “I didn’t want the colonel to know. He doesn’t need the stress. It’s a private problem. Was a private problem.”
“Colonel?” Helmsley asked.
“My father, Colonel Horace Duke. I thought I could handle this on my own.”
“You could have been killed.” Mike turned a heated glare on Daniel. “Your little plan is stupid, sir. And dangerous.”
Daniel arched an eyebrow. His expression remained otherwise neutral. “Seems to me my plan is working out exactly the way I intended. What do you know about erotomania, Sergeant?”
Mike and the investigator exchanged a puzzled look.
“It’s a mental disorder,” Daniel explained. “A delusional fixation on another person as a love object. Read love letters written by thirteen-year-o
lds and you’ll get a glimpse into the kind of thought processes we’re dealing with. Except this guy is an adult and he’s willing to act out his fantasies. If you guys intend to catch Pinky, you need to get educated.”
“Are you a shrink?” Mike was openly hostile now.
“Just a regular guy who’s devoted the past five years of his life to stopping stalkers.” He grinned at the investigator. “And no, you guys haven’t heard of me. I keep a low profile. No press, no advertising. If you want to check me out, contact Gail Porter with the El Paso County district attorney’s office. She’s referred several clients to me.”
“I don’t know if you’re qualified or not,” Mike said. “I know for darned sure you’re endangering your life. Not to mention Janine’s life!”
“I’m doing nothing illegal.”
“Interfering with an investigation and obstructing justice are illegal.”
Daniel showed both palms. “I’m not doing either of those. You guys have my blessing to arrest Pinky. You won’t hear a peep out of me.”
“Mike,” Janine said. “Mr. Helmsley. Mr. Tucker is not the problem. Pinky is. I apologize for not calling you, Mike. In hindsight, you’re absolutely correct. But, I suggest we focus on the matter at hand and worry about who is right or wrong later.”
“Ma’am, Mr. Tucker,” Helmsley said, “stalking is against Colorado law. No offense, but civilians aren’t qualified to handle these matters.”
“No offense,” Daniel said smoothly, “neither are the cops. Pinky isn’t your run-of-the-mill firebug. He’s seriously disturbed, but he’s smart.” He jerked a thumb at Janine. “Here’s an intelligent woman. She deals with a large staff. She knows people. But Pinky sat in this office, interviewed for a job and fooled her completely. He’ll fool you, too.”
Helmsley smiled, close-lipped. “Obviously you’ve never sat across the interrogation table from me, sir.”
Daniel chuckled. “Obviously you’ve never dealt with an erotomanic stalker harboring sociopathic tendencies who uses anonymity as a weapon. Pinky isn’t scared of the cops. You’ll never rattle him.”
Janine massaged her aching temples. An island, she thought She’d buy an island and post a huge sign saying No Testosterone Allowed. “Gentlemen! Stop the bickering. It’s going nowhere. I and everyone at Elk River will cooperate fully with the police investigation.”
