by Cindi Myers
“Abby is right,” Sophie said. “Threaten to sue them and make them cough up a settlement—and continue your medical benefits, at least until you find something better.”
Right. She didn’t want to lose the benefits that paid for the medication that was keeping her on an even keel. “Good idea,” she said. “I have a lawyer friend in Denver. I’ll call him today.” She grabbed a notebook from the counter that separated the apartment’s kitchen from the living area and wrote that down. It felt good to have something constructive to do.
“And I’m not going to stop going after Richard Prentice, either,” she said. “Even with the grand jury indictment, the prosecutor will need every bit of evidence he can get to convict. Prentice thinks his money puts him above the law. I’m going to show him he’s wrong.”
“Emma will help, I’m sure,” Sophie said. “If you both use your skills as investigative reporters, you’re bound to turn up something.”
“We can all help,” Abby said. “I only know about botany, but I’m good at following directions, so if you give me a job, I’ll do it.” A graduate student, Abby had almost completed her work toward a master’s degree in environmental science.
“Me, too,” Sophie said. A former government administrator in Madison, Wisconsin, Sophie had given up her job to move to Montrose and search for Lauren.
“Thanks, all of you.” Lauren hugged them each in turn. For all the terrible things that had happened to her in the past weeks and months, she’d gained these wonderful friends. They had rallied around her since she’d come to Montrose, and treated her like another sister. That was a blessing she was truly grateful for.
A knock sounded on the door. Sophie said, “That’s probably Rand. He said he was going to stop by and take me to lunch.”
Lauren answered the door. “Hello, Rand.” She smiled at the handsome, muscular man with short brown hair who stood on the landing, then looked past him to the darker, taller man behind him. “Hello, Marco.”
“How are you doing, Lauren?” Agent Marco Cruz asked as he followed his coworker into the apartment. His deep, soft voice made her heart beat a little faster. When had she turned into such a cliché, going all swoony over the handsome guy in uniform who’d just happened to save her life? Of course, pretty much any straight woman with a pulse got a little weak-kneed around Marco, who might have been the inspiration for the description “tall, dark and handsome.”
But Lauren was not any woman, she told herself. She wasn’t going to allow hormones to let her make a fool of herself over a guy who was probably used to women falling at his feet. She was grateful to him, of course, but she refused to be that cliché. “I’m holding my own. Come on in.”
She ushered the men into the house. Rand greeted Sophie with a kiss. Since the two had worked together to rescue Lauren, they’d been almost inseparable. “Are we interrupting something?” he asked, looking around the kitchen at the women.
“We were discussing Richard Prentice’s latest,” Sophie said. “Emma just left. She showed us an article in the Post—he’s managed to get Lauren fired.”
“The article doesn’t say anything about Prentice getting me fired,” Lauren said.
“No, but I’d bet my last dime that he paid your ex to say you were unstable,” Sophie said. “And he probably threatened to sue the station if they didn’t let you go.”
“Prentice must have a whole team of lawyers working full-time,” Rand said.
“We saw that he’s suing the Rangers, and his senator friend is agitating to disband the task force,” Abby said.
Rand shrugged. “Nothing new there.”
“Do you think he’ll succeed in breaking you up?” Sophie asked.
“I don’t think so. He’s just trying to distract attention away from his own troubles.”
“Emma told us the grand jury plans to hand down an indictment today,” Lauren said.
“That’s just the start,” Rand said. “Once the indictment is in place, the serious work of doing everything we can to bolster our case really gets started. Even with everything we have, convicting that man is going to take a lot of luck to go along with our hard work.”
“What do you think, Marco?” Lauren asked. The DEA agent didn’t talk much, but she’d learned he was smart and thoughtful.
“I think we’re going to have to get lucky if we want to succeed in bringing down Prentice,” he said. “We need to find his weaknesses and target them.”
“Does he have any weaknesses?” Sophie asked.
“Lauren was his weakness once,” Marco said.
She flushed. When he’d kidnapped her and held her hostage, Prentice said it was to stop her from interfering in his business. But instead of killing her, he’d tried to woo her and persuade her to marry him. “I don’t think he feels the same about me now,” she said.
“The opposite of love is hate,” Marco said. “I still think you matter to him, one way or another.”
“Oh, I’d say he definitely hates me now, and he’s playing hardball, getting me fired and making the public think I’m crazy.”
“You’re not crazy,” Marco said. “Just stay smart and be careful. And call me if you need anything.”
She turned away, not wanting him to see how his assurance affected her. They’d only spent a few hours together, when he helped rescue her from Prentice, but she’d felt safer with him than she ever had with anyone, despite the fact that, to most people, he was pretty intimidating—hard muscles, hard eyes and an expression that said he was untouched by events around him.
Rand checked his watch. “I hate to break up this party, but we have to go. We’ve only got an hour for lunch, plus I left Lotte in the Cruiser.” Lotte was Rand’s police dog, a Belgian Malinois who had helped locate Lauren.
“Give her a biscuit and an ear scratch for me,” Lauren said. “And we all have to get back to work, me included. I’ve got a lawyer to call.”
“I won’t be long.” Sophie hugged her goodbye. “Maybe we’ll take in a movie later.”
The men left with Sophie, and Abby prepared to take her leave, also. “I think Mr. Tall, Dark and Deadly has a thing for you,” she teased as she collected her purse and sunglasses from the kitchen counter.
“Marco?” Lauren’s face grew warm. “He was just being nice.”
“Marco is never ‘just nice,’” Abby said. “Not that he’s not a decent guy, but he’s very reserved. And a little scary.”
“Do you think so?” She’d never felt afraid with Marco.
“He was in Special Forces,” Abby said. “Those guys are all a little scary. But very sexy, too.” She nudged Lauren. “And I think he definitely likes you. You should ask him out.”
“I don’t need another rejection right now.”
“I don’t think he’d reject you,” Abby said.
“Even if you’re right, now’s not the time to start a new relationship. I really need to get my life together.”
“Maybe Marco would help.” At Lauren’s scowl, Abby held up her hands in a defensive gesture. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop matchmaking. But, you know—keep it in mind.”
The apartment felt emptier than ever when the women were gone. Lauren set about putting away coffee cups and wiping down the counter. After she spoke with Shawn, her lawyer friend, she should update her résumé. And maybe see about doing some freelancing. The local university might need someone in their television department.
She returned to her list and began making notes. Was there a way to get hold of Richard Prentice’s tax records? Maybe through some kind of public records request? That might be revealing...
Pounding on the door made her jump—not a friendly knock, but a heavy beating against the wood that made the wall shake. She grabbed up her phone, ready to hit the speed dial for 9-1-1. “Who is it?” she called in a shaky voice.
“I have a delivery for Lauren Starling.”
She tiptoed to the door and peered through the peephole. A burly man in a tracksuit stood on the l
anding. “You’re not with a delivery company,” she said. “Go away.”
“I have a package for you.” He held up a box about eight inches square.
“I don’t want it. Go away.”
“I’m going to leave it here on the landing. You need to open it.”
“Go away before I call the police.”
“Suit yourself.”
She watched as he set the box on the doormat and walked away. She waited a full five minutes, heart racing, mind whirling. Who was sending her a package? Was this some kind of joke, or a bomb?
Finally, reasoning there was only one way to learn the answer to her questions, she eased open the door and looked around. The area was deserted. Quickly, she picked up the package and took it inside, where she set it carefully on the table and stared at it.
No return address. No postage or metered label, either. She put her ear to it. No ticking. But would a bomb necessarily tick? She wished Rand and Lotte were still here. The dog could probably tell if the package contained explosives. She could call them, but Rand had enough on his mind right now without worrying about her. The local police might help—or they would just as easily dismiss her as that crazy woman who’d been on television. She couldn’t take any more humiliation. Better to handle this herself.
Feeling a little silly, she grabbed a knife and slit open the end of the box. Inside, she glimpsed red foil paper and white silk ribbon. Less afraid now, she worked the knife around until she could lift off the top. Inside the first box was a second, gift-wrapped package. Again, no label.
She carefully worked loose the ribbon on this box and opened the flaps. Inside was a single dried rose and a printed card. “In loving memory,” the card read, “of Lauren Montgomery Starling.”
Trembling, she turned the card over. Printed in pencil, in neat block letters, were the words, “Such a short life wasted. We’ll all miss you when you’re gone.”
Chapter Two
Marco stood in line behind Rand and Sophie at the sandwich shop, but his mind was still back at the apartment with Lauren. The first time he’d laid eyes on her in that abandoned mine tunnel where she’d been imprisoned, he’d felt a connection to her. Not just physical attraction—any man might have felt that for the blonde, blue-eyed beauty with the killer figure. The affinity he felt for Lauren went deeper than that, to something in his core. Which was crazy, really. They didn’t have anything in common. She was a beauty queen celebrity who lived in the public eye. He’d made a life out of skulking in the shadows.
Maybe it was her strength that resonated with him. It was different from the physical power and mental discipline he practiced, but her ability to endure moved him. She’d had to deal with more trouble in the past few months than most people would ever face in a lifetime, but she still managed to keep smiling and keep fighting. The smile had been a little shakier today; losing her job had to hurt. The stress of all that had happened to her was showing; she was drawn and pale. If Prentice was behind this latest attack on her, Marco wanted to find the guy and teach him a lesson he’d never forget.
His phone buzzed and he slipped it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. Pls come. More trble. Don’t say anythng 2 others. Don’t want 2 upset Sophie. Lauren.
He pocketed the phone once more and tapped Rand on the shoulder. “I’m going to skip lunch,” he said. “Something’s come up.”
“Anything wrong?”
“Nah. I just remembered something I have to do. Anyway, you know what they say about three being a crowd.” He nodded to Sophie. “I’ll see you soon.”
He sauntered out of the shop—Mr. Smooth, not a care in the world. But every nerve vibrated with worry. Lauren wouldn’t have contacted him unless she was in real trouble. Though they’d spent some tense hours together when they were trapped in that old mine on Prentice’s estate, he was still a stranger to her. But who else did she have to turn to in the face of real danger? Her sister and her friends couldn’t handle a real threat, while he’d spent most of his adult life fighting off enemies of one kind or another.
He reached Lauren’s apartment a few minutes later and she opened the door while he was still crossing the parking lot. Clearly, she’d been watching for him. “Thank you for coming,” she said. She leaned against the door as if even staying upright was an effort.
He took her arm and guided her back into the apartment, then shut and locked the door behind them. “What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
“A man delivered this a few minutes ago.” She led him to the kitchen table, where a brightly wrapped box looked like leftovers from a birthday party. “All that was in it was this dried-up flower and that card.”
He bent over the card, not touching it, and read the message printed there. “Look on the back,” she said.
He flipped the card over, and clenched his hands into fists. “Someone is trying to frighten you,” he said.
“It’s working.” She studied his face, searching for what—reassurance? Hope?
He could give her neither. “We can check for fingerprints,” he said. “But we probably won’t find any.”
“No, I don’t think you will. And I didn’t recognize the man who delivered it, though I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he works for Prentice.”
“Why do you say that?” he asked.
“He was the type of guy Richard uses for his private security force—beefy and menacing. Guys who get off on being intimidating.” She shuddered, and he fought the urge to put his arms around her, to comfort her. She’d mentioned before that Prentice’s guards had tried to bully and take advantage of her, pawing at her when they thought they could get away with it. The idea made him see red. If he ever got one of those guys alone...
Not a productive thought. He needed to focus on the task at hand. They both stared at the small card—a harmless piece of paper that carried such a potent threat. “Is this his way of saying he’s going to kill me?” she asked.
“Maybe.” No sense sugarcoating the truth. If she was dead, she’d stop agitating for Prentice’s arrest. The billionaire had killed before to silence his enemies. Marco was sure of that, even if the task force had never been able to find conclusive evidence to link him to the killings. “You need to show this to the police.”
“And tell them what?” Anger flared, the sharp edge in her voice a good sign, he thought. She wasn’t going to sink into despair. “Do I say Richard Prentice is threatening me? He’ll deny it and issue another statement about how obsessed I am with him and how crazy I am. And they’ll believe him, because everyone knows you can’t trust an unstable person like me.”
He gripped her shoulders, not hurting her, but demanding her attention. “Don’t let what people say come true,” he said. “You’re not crazy or unstable. You’re strong. You were strong enough to get away from Prentice the first time. We can outsmart him now.”
“We?”
“I’m sticking with you until I’m sure you’re safe.”
“So you think this is a real threat?” The last word was barely a whisper.
“Yes. And you’re right—the police aren’t the answer. Going to them is probably exactly what Prentice expects you to do, what he wants, even.” He led her to the sofa and sat with her. “As long as he can keep this in the press, he can keep hammering home the idea that you’ve lost it. By ignoring him, we frustrate him and force his hand.”
“But what will he do next?”
“I don’t know. But it’s why I can’t leave you alone.”
She laughed, but with no mirth. That was the sound of someone fighting to maintain control. “This is ridiculous. You’re not my personal bodyguard. And you have a job. You have to work.”
“You’re the chief witness in the case we’re building against Prentice,” he said. “The captain will agree we need to keep you safe.”
“Haven’t you been paying attention? You don’t have a case. Prentice is doing his best to paint me as the crazy woman who can’t be trusted. Anyt
hing I say against him is obviously a figment of my troubled mind.”
“That’s what he wants people to think, but we know it’s not true. And other people know it, too. You have to stay strong and not let this get to you.”
“Did they train you to give these pep talks when you were in Special Forces? Because it’s not working.”
“There goes my career as a motivational speaker.”
His attempt at humor didn’t move her. “Why is he doing this now?” she asked. “It’s been almost a month since I escaped his ranch.”
“He was hiding out on some Caribbean island, working to get the charges against him dropped and probably hoping you’d go away. You haven’t, so he’s decided to turn up the heat. You know enough about him that you’re still a real threat to him.”
“Or maybe I’m a loose end he wants tied up,” she said.
“Or maybe he wants revenge because you turned down his advances,” he said. “Love can make people do crazy things.”
“Oh, please! Richard Prentice doesn’t love anyone but himself.”
“Maybe love isn’t the right word... He was obsessed with you, and I don’t think people like him turn those feelings off like a light switch. The obsession just...transforms. Turns darker.”
“Thanks. Now you’re really creeping me out.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms as if warding off a chill. “So what are we going to do? You can’t babysit me twenty-four hours a day.”
He stood and began to pace, studying the apartment. It was a ground-floor unit in a complex that faced a side street off the main highway. The front door opened onto a large parking lot, and there were large windows on all sides. No security. No guards. Easy in-and-out access. “Anyone could break in here with no trouble at all,” he said. “We need to move you to a safer location.”
“I can’t afford to move. I’m unemployed, remember?”
“You can’t afford to stay here, either.”
