WindSwept Narrows: #18 Paige Andrews

by Diroll-Nichols, Karen

  Paige Andrews

  WindSwept Narrows

  Book Eighteen

  Karen A. Nichols

  Copyright 2011 by Karen A. Nichols

  Smashwords Edition

  Published by Karen Nichols. Copyright, Karen Nichols. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Prologue:

  Five days earlier:

  Both of them looked toward the front door when the bell sounded. Paige Andrews went forward, keeping herself between the person and Chase.

  “Excuse me…can I help you?” She had begun to inhale, her breath caught somewhere in the middle and her eyes watered, blurring her view. “Oh…god…what’d you kill? Geeze…”

  “Looking for Chase Montgomery,” but the dark eyes sparkled as he met the amused look from the man behind the tall redhead.

  “I…Chase…perhaps you’d like to wait outside…downwind…about a mile….where there’s a shower…and barber…”

  “Christ, Bastian, she’s right…get out of here…”

  “We don’t have enough windows,” Paige mumbled, quickly moving around the office and flinging windows open.

  Chase followed the black leather clad man back toward the parking lot, the afternoon sun dusty behind the spray of clouds above them.

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Kansas…one hell of a ride, let me tell you,” Sebastian Hartley straddled the large, dust covered motorcycle.

  Chase spent the next hour outside in the fresh air talking to the head of the firm that would be handling the terminal for two cruise lines. It was going to be built where the old grain station was located. They’d be sharing the office.

  Paige Andrews looked at her boss suspiciously when he came back inside, the roar of a motorcycle fading in the distance.

  “That…was not in the employment agreement,” she said, long ponytail swishing as she held up the check and file she’d completed. “The bank is sending a representative to speak with you tomorrow, with papers where they only need Pepper’s signature and it’ll happen that quick.” She snapped her fingers and returned to the screen she was working on.

  Chapter One

  Five days later:

  Paige Andrews shut down her computer and checked her backpack, slinging it casually over her shoulder before locking up the office and heading to her deep blue car waiting in the lot for her. She’d only intended to clean up a few things for the new boss starting tomorrow. One hand reached absently to the band holding the thick red hair in the high ponytail, fingers working it free and dropping the band to the collection on the small dashboard.

  The end of March still gave an eerie appearance to the towering, abandoned grain towers and huge, stretching warehouses along the road she took home. It had become part of a strange ritual, she mused as she turned the lights off and parked in the outer edge of the lot. It bothered her that there were lights moving around the warehouse, over the grounds and around the grain towers. She knew Chase wasn’t there. And she was the only other person with access. Being the alert admin that she was, she’d read through some security reports from the security with the resort about people attempting to slow progress on the building of the school and apartment complexes.

  So it wouldn’t be a surprise if someone, some group, wanted to slow the building of the cruise ship terminals. Paige left her pack on the floor of the car, her keys in her pockets the small gun in the waistband of her jeans. Her hand absently grabbed one of the bands from the dash before quietly closing the door. She wound the long hair into a bundle and let it rest down her back.

  Things were disturbed. She could tell. Until negotiations were finished with the people who would clean up the area before building could even begin, no one was supposed to be on the property. Pale red lashes narrowed over wide, brown eyes, skirting, sweeping and taking in all the shadows as she stepped into the large warehouse. Windows were long gone, broken bits clung to the frames, speckled the floors and allowed all manner of nature inside.

  Pigeons and brave sea gulls were always outside, some gathered enough courage to track down bits of grain left over from god knows when scattered throughout the large warehouses. Which meant some dead birds. Then there were the dead bits of something she didn’t want to think about and the occasionally prowling cat. But what her eyes landed on now was far from any of those things. She knew the inside of these buildings. She’d prowled, searched and explored most of them once she’d been given access. Curiosity for the most part. A little remnant in her from her kid mystery book days, she mused, taking a stance and lightly clearing her throat.

  “Stop what you’re doing and put your hands out to the side where I can see them,” she said quietly, firmly. Her arm was extended, her left hand cupping the right and the small .38 caliber aimed and steady.

  “You’re making a mistake,” came the very quiet, deep voice.

  “You know…I get that a lot when I find someone somewhere they’re not supposed to be,” Paige said flippantly. He was big. About six three, she thought, taking in her boots which put her at about five-eleven. Thick shaggy hair that looked a little like dark straw blonde and hung around the sides of his face and touched the collar of the black leather waist length jacket. Add to that, black leather chaps over jeans and thick soled leather boots. Her eyes flit around the large area quickly.

  “And you’re supposed to be here?” Asked the deep, dry voice.

  “I have access…arms out…please don’t make me shoot you,” she said cheerfully.

  That tidbit of information had his body frozen, his arms rising out at his sides slowly.

  “I’d prefer not to be shot this evening,” he responded silkily, turning very carefully. Sharp blue eyes landed on the weapon at the end of her arm, taking in her stance and steady grip. He allowed his eyes to trail along the length of arm to the tall, slender form and patient gaze etched on the oval face.

  “You have a pink gun.” He heard the words before they struck his brain at the same time it felt like his insides had run into a solid wall.

  Paige was used to the disbelief in people when she practiced.

  “Funny…the operative word seems to be gun.”

  “A little pink gun,” he said in amazement, his hands starting to lower until she shook her head and lifted the gun a little higher.

  “No moving…and it might be little, but I seem to recall a vital artery just at the apex of your thighs,” she motioned, satisfied with the look of concern on his face. “Then there’s the edge of your wrist…oh, but my personal favorite is the neck artery…you know…the one the vampires always go for…what are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same thing,”
he kept his gaze shifting between her hand and her face. Expressive, large eyes that would tell him if she was unstable, instead he felt the jolt of that wall falling on him once more. Intelligent, irreverent and filled with promise. He saw that and more and it worried him.

  “Usually the person with the upper hand asks the questions,” Paige bit into her cheek thoughtfully. “Hmm…and that would be…me.”

  “Just looking around…”

  “This look like a tourist haunt to you? And it isn’t a safe place to camp. How’d you get through the fence? I walked it, there’s no damage to it. But you don’t look like someone out to disrupt things…”

  “And you’d know?”

  “You’d be surprised what I know,” she said quietly, her head shaking. “You aren’t here to cause trouble for the owner.”

  “Has there been trouble?” He shifted slightly, his sigh thick. “Look…arms down…I’m not armed…”

  “Yeah…I always believe strangers I find on private property,” she murmured, her head shaking. “There’s been threats…and lights…” Paige frowned, her mind replaying what she’d seen. “You aren’t part of the lights…”

  He saw the opening he needed and moved swiftly, one hand up and gripping her wrist, pushing her hand into the air while the other wrapped snuggly around her waist, twisting her and pulling her hard against him.

  “You really shouldn’t go around pointing guns at people,” the words whispered thickly against her ear. “No noise…I saw the lights off to the edge of the warehouse.”

  Paige felt every single hard muscle of the man holding her. A sharp breath caught in her chest when he tightened his arm just a bit, almost cutting off her ability to drag in a breath. Above her head, she felt his thumb push the safety into place. Her left arm was pinned at her side against him and her fingers couldn’t find a cluster of skin to pinch, so she gripped what she could in a tight bundle at the same time she brought one booted foot down hard on the top of his foot.

  Easily enough of a distraction to have her deftly spinning to the side, striking out with a flat palm against his chest before she dropped onto one knee. She watched surprise on his face, saw him limp before he fell over a stack of old phone books, sprawling and cursing.

  “I don’t like being mauled.”

  “I don’t like having a fucking gun aimed at me,” he growled back, flexing his foot and shaking his head. “Look…”

  “Just get out of here…this isn’t your business. Just go,” Paige stood up and moved away, tucking the gun in the hollow at her back. “I’ve got to find out who’s here,” she turned from him and took off at a light run, unaware of the stunned expression on the man’s face behind her.

  Gloved hands pushed against the ground and onto his feet. Uncommon sense sent him chasing after her, his long legs closing the distance and grabbing her from the doorway before she realized he was there. His back hit the wall at the same time one hand held her arm to their side while the other had that tight grip on her middle again.

  “Shhh…” he hissed warningly, his arm tightening just for the hell of it as a reminder.

  “I know it’s here! Hector said he left it in one of the damned offices,” came the hard voice through the early night.

  “Then he shoulda told you where the hell he left it!” Ground out the other voice, metal and wood tossed around the large room in all directions.

  “This place will be rubble in a few days….we don’t have long to search,” the shorter of the two swerved abruptly, his hand up and clapping the other on the shoulder.

  “He coulda been lying to you…shit…he was dying in prison…”

  “He wasn’t lying. Let’s take the offices first…” They left the area, their voices drifting into the darkness.

  Paige realized she had almost stopped breathing.

  “Now I wonder what they’re after,” he slowly released her, watching her flex her fingers around the butt of the small gun. He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or not when she absently tucked it into the back of her jeans.

  “I’m calling the police…”

  “Not a good idea right now…”

  “Not interested in your input,” she pulled her phone from her pocket.

  “Call Montgomery.” A light breeze of satisfaction filled him when she froze, eyes that had been angled down at the screen of her phone now peeked up through thick pale lashes. He watched her tongue come out and drag around a set of full lips.

  “You…umm…you know Chase?” She hated the slight rise in her voice. Paige felt herself slammed when the off memory struck. Shoulders went up, head back and eyes taking in the man from foot to head. “Oh, crap…”

  “Pleased to meet you, Miss Andrews,” he pulled one glove off and offered his palm. “Sebastian Hartley.” He shook the palm that had been holding a gun on him, his thumb stroking over the back of her hand. “Not nearly as dangerous as it was a few minutes ago.”

  Paige closed her eyes tightly. “I…umm…owe you an apology….”

  “At the very least,” he said dryly, watching her carefully pull her hand from his. “My bike is parked at the other side where we started out. We need to go someplace and talk, Miss Andrews.”

  “Well…I live up the hill…or I suppose the office…” She really disliked the officious sound in his words and winced.

  “I’ll follow you home,” he said firmly, taking her arm and guiding her back the way they’d come, the bite of his fingers in her arm just a little more than might have been necessary. “We need to get away from the scavengers before they spot us. I don’t know what you’re doing here, but you will not be coming here again, is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” Paige worked to make her voice sound normal and it was simply gone for now. Too many possibilities popped into her head, the most annoying was being fired. “I…my car…”

  “The address?” He asked flatly, listening and nodding, stopping with her beside the car once she’d locked the gate behind them. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Oh, joy,” she murmured and sunk into her car, the engine turning over quietly. Damn it, she whispered as she threw the car into reverse and zipped out of the gravel covered parking lot.

  What the hell was he doing there?

  It’s his property, he has a right to be there, argued the other side.

  She really didn’t want to be fired. Or lectured, but given a choice of the two, her brain offered ruefully, she’d sit meekly and listen to a lecture, nod politely and swear to God to mend her ways.

  Her apartment was simple, square and on the second floor. She stepped from the car and walked toward the outside stairs at the same time she heard the motorcycle pull alongside the unit. She didn’t look back, climbing the stairs like she was expecting a hangman’s noose to greet her at the top. She opened her door, pulled the gun from her lower back and secured it in her pack before flipping light switches. And waiting. Her stomach wasn’t sure if it was hurting from lack of food or incoming aggravation.

  Paige sat on one of the high stools. Less embarrassing then having her knees buckle from under her in front of the boss. She watched him fill the doorway for a long, silent minute, helmet in one hand and gloves pulled off to be stuffed into it before he dropped it to a chair she had in the open area. For a large guy, he moved very quietly, she realized, the boots barely registering on the hardwood floor.

  Sebastian pushed the door firmly closed behind him, took one of the dining chairs and spun it, straddling it and just staring at her. He watched her hand leave her thigh once and fall back before she lifted it again as she cleared her throat.

  “Are you going to fire me?”

  “I’m thinking it over,” he answered simply, noting the wince that crossed her features. She reached behind her and pulled something from her hair, long fingers massaging her scalp and wander to her temples. “Headache?”

  “Among other places,” she murmured, sighing thickly. “I need some water….do you want something? I have…I
’m not sure…juice…orange…a can of cola…”

  “I’ll take the cola,” he said quietly, working to keep a grip on the anger inside him. And losing. “What the hell were you doing there?”

  Paige winced again at the hard, loud voice just slightly south of a shout. She poured the cola over ice and handed it to him, returning to the stool with a large glass of ice water.

  “I’ve been watching it on my way home at night.”

  “You’ve been inside there before tonight,” he guessed, watching his answer flicker in her eyes. “I saw your damn resume. You’re a hell of a sight smarter than I’m seeing at the moment, Miss Andrews.”

  “Security isn’t due to be onsite until the day before demolition, when they will do a thorough sweep to make sure we don’t have any homeless or stray visitors around when the explosives are set,” she said very quickly and very quietly, biting more than her tongue at the moment. “Someone…or more than one someone…has been tripping around the site during the night. I almost had them a couple days ago…” She stared into the glass of water when he swore loudly. “I don’t know what they’re doing. Tonight is as close as I’ve gotten to them. And at least now, I know they’re searching for something.”

  “What the hell were you thinking?”

  Paige wasn’t sure if the low, hissing voice was worse than the shout or not. Both were a little more than unnerving. She swallowed and reached for her glass, shrugging.

  “Keeping an eye on things…I can take care of myself, Mr. Hartley. I’ve been doing it a very long time.”

  “Yeah…I noticed that,” he said, a little calmer as he flexed his foot in front of him. “And the gun?”

  Paige shrugged again.

  “Why not just call the police?” He tried easily, draining half the caffeine and sighing. He had intended to find dinner when she came upon him in the warehouse.