by SY Thompson
She pulled into her space and took off the sunglasses that made it almost impossible to see in the cavernous bay. Then she put the Jaguar in park, switched off the engine, and popped the trunk so she could remove her purchases. The first thing Sidney saw when she got out of the car was Ronan. The woman stood next to her large, black motorcycle. She leaned against the wall casually with her arms folded and legs crossed, but the expression on her face stopped Sidney in her tracks.
She looked furious.
“What?” Sidney wondered why Ronan would look at her like that.
Ronan pushed away from the wall and stalked across the garage to stand directly in front of Sidney. “Where have you been? Everyone has been worried about you?”
Sidney was astonished at the cold fury radiating from the blue eyes. More than that, she wasn’t accustomed to people questioning her on her activities. The last time she had checked she was a grown woman and could do what she damn well pleased.
“Excuse me?”
It was apparent Ronan missed the warning tone in her voice.
“Jordy came to my apartment this morning looking for you. The studio called him and said you didn’t show up. He was worried you were dead somewhere. You do remember you have a stalker don’t you?”
“Now just a damn minute,” Sidney said. “Jordy should know better than to go off half-cocked. He’s worked for me long enough to know that sometimes I like to get away. I have no idea why he bothered you, but I doubt the studio was really all that worried.”
That seemed to slow Ronan down a little and finally she was able to respond. “That is beside the point. I think you forget that with this stalker on the loose anything could happen. You should be more careful.”
“And you forget your place.”
Sidney finally had enough of Ronan chastising her as if she was a small child. Who did this woman think she was? It was true Sidney liked her, and that a sort of bond had developed between the two. She even hoped the connection would grow into a deep and abiding friendship. Nevertheless, that friendship was new and fragile at this point. Mistrust and anger could easily damage a budding relationship. They needed to establish clear boundaries before she could commit totally to such an association. One of those boundaries would be the distinction between professional and personal business.
“You are my pilot. I hired you for that job. It is not your place to lecture me because I decide I need to take off for a little while. You are not my bodyguard.”
“I thought we were more than that,” Ronan admitted in a soft voice, taking some of the wind out of Sidney’s anger.
It actually sounded like Sidney had hurt her feelings. That hadn’t been her intention. She knew Ronan was just worried about her, but she would have to learn to approach her a little differently if she wanted to get her point across. Sidney didn’t appreciate a rebuke by anyone, not even a friend.
She reached up and gently clasped Ronan’s bicep. Her gaze softened and she said, “We are, or at least I hope we are. But Ronan, you are going to have to accept my need to get away from time to time. You’re also going to have to learn that I don’t like anyone speaking to me like that. It’s one surefire way to piss me off.”
Ronan had the grace to look slightly sheepish and Sidney was content that she had made her point. Unfortunately, Ronan wasn’t quite ready to concede the entire battle just yet.
“Just promise me something?”
“What?” Sidney asked, a little suspicious of what such a favor would be.
“The next time you feel the urge to escape, could you let me know about it first? I realize it may sound like a lot to ask, but I can’t help remembering the first night we met. Please, at least until the stalker has been identified?”
It was a big concession. Sidney knew Ronan didn’t realize how big. She valued her independence when her life had very little freedom to begin with. As an actress, she was a very public figure and it was hard to go anywhere that someone didn’t recognize her. She couldn’t even go grocery shopping without someone, or several people, interrupting her for an autograph. However, she knew Ronan had a valid point and the reminder of their first meeting hit close to home.
“All right,” she finally said. “I’ll try to let someone know the next time I feel the need for fresh air.”
Sidney knew it wasn’t the promise Ronan wanted, but it was the most she was going to get. Ronan seemed to know it too and sighed dramatically, but she nodded her head in acceptance.
“Now,” Sidney said. “Since you’re here, how about giving me a hand with a few packages?”
She flipped open the trunk of the car and almost laughed when Ronan’s eyes widened. The small space was completely jammed with shopping bags. Ronan hesitated for a second, cast Sidney a dumbfounded look, and then started grabbing the bags.
Chapter Seven
RONAN WORKED IN the hangar with her motorcycle parked nearby. Her duties included servicing the plane. The aircraft was archaic by Ronan’s standards since she knew soon they would be traveling to distant stars, but for now, it was a state-of-the-art piece of equipment. She forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand instead of allowing thoughts of Sidney to distract her. Ronan peered down into the guts of the Dassault Falcon 2000 from its frame, where she squatted on her knees. The hangar was located at an airstrip in Brooklyn Park, a suburb of Baltimore, but she wasn’t just performing simple maintenance on the craft. She also had to ensure no one tampered with it in her absence. With a faceless enemy on the loose, she wanted to keep her guard up.
Ronan nervously realized the date of Sidney’s disappearance was rapidly approaching and knew she would have to be prepared to drop everything on a moment’s notice. The assault could come from any direction and she wanted everything to be ready just in case.
She was also intelligent enough to know she had already altered the fabric of time. Professor Horton had told her during his demonstration of the machine that when someone pulled on a thread in time it could unravel the entire tapestry. One had to be very careful about altering anything. Therefore, there was no guarantee that the attack would occur the same way it had in Ronan’s known history. Still, there was one thing she was sure of: Sidney’s destiny included a violent death. Fate would make every attempt to ensure her destiny became reality.
Ronan felt more and more on edge as the dreaded day loomed nearer. She’d begun to have light panic attacks. She would start to have difficulty drawing breath and a light sheen of sweat would break out over her entire body. When she would come back to herself a few moments later, she felt as though she had run a marathon.
The tension was about to drive her crazy. She fervently hoped that what caused her symptoms was fear for the diminutive woman who’d stolen her heart and not some unforeseen side effect from time travel.
An insistent chirping suddenly erupted from the inside of her jacket. Ronan dropped the wrench she had been holding and vaguely heard it clatter as it ricocheted through the engine compartment and hit the concrete below. At the same time, she removed the remote monitor from her pocket.
“Damn it, not yet,” she gasped as icy fear gripped her heart. She scrambled backward off the metal housing and hit the ground at a dead run, barely registering a slight twinge in her knee from hitting the concrete at an awkward angle.
The device she consulted was a remote tracker she had planted on Sidney’s Jaguar the day after the woman’s last joy ride three weeks ago. Since she had discovered Sidney Weaver had a habit of taking off on her own without informing anyone of her whereabouts or destination, Ronan had decided not to take any more chances. It was likely Sidney’s tendency to take off on a whim allowed the kidnapper the opportunity to kill her in the previous time line. Ronan had prepared for such an eventuality by placing the homing beacon under the hood of her car. The only problem was, it was two days early and Ronan hadn’t been prepared for things to happen so early. Her plans were to spend all day of the expected attack right next to Sidney.
She raced to her motorcycle, jammed the helmet on, and fired up the huge machine. The front tire rose off the ground impressively as Ronan tore out of the hangar, headed for the penthouse in the hope she could intercept Sidney on the way.
“Computer, activate remote tracking of Sidney Weaver. Display all possible routes of travel by automobile.”
A transparent display schematic materialized over the windscreen to give Ronan access to the requested information without the need to remove her eyes from the road. A green blip indicating her current location appeared on the readout and a red blip representing Sidney’s car materialized a substantial distance apart. The Jaguar moved steadily along highway Maryland 2 South and Ronan increased the speed of her bike. She felt the rear tire slip a little before it grabbed the pavement. Desperately, she hoped to narrow the distance between them.
For a few minutes, it looked as though she might be successful, the two dots moving steadily closer to each other. Then Sidney’s indicator made a sharp right turn and Ronan realized her intended destination. She felt her heart thump in horror.
Her grandparents had a country home in Rock Hall, which Sidney had inherited when they died. The getaway home was a secret she hadn’t shared with anyone, not even her ex-husband. It was a place where she went to be alone but Ronan had done her research and knew about the place. Unfortunately, the highway Ronan was currently on added extra time to her drive, precious moments she simply couldn’t afford. Still, she had no alternative since an intersecting path wouldn’t come up for quite some time.
Resigned, she gunned the engine and raced at breakneck speed on the highway. She wanted to intersect with Sidney on Paul Pitcher Memorial Highway before it was too late. Luck, however, was not with her this day and her frustration mounted when Ronan spied the gridlock from an accident up ahead. She growled in anger and directed the massive bike onto the shoulder. Weaving past infuriated motorists, she finally navigated by an overturned eighteen-wheeler and shot off on an all but deserted section of roadway, due to the collision. She finally made it to the ferry on Gibson Island that would carry her across the bay and near Rock Hall.
Over an hour later after taking off on her frantic flight, Ronan had to slow on the residential streets. She didn’t want any undue attention. The homing device had stopped twenty minutes earlier while she was still on the ferry and she feared she was already too late. Ronan switched off her headlight in the coming gloom of night to evade detection.
“Computer, cancel homing signal and activate thermal scan.” Her voice was low in case anyone like a kidnapper/murderer was somewhere close by.
An image of the street she was currently on replaced the map overlay. Heat signatures from various individuals popped up inside their respective homes, but Ronan’s eyes were pinned to the residence at the end of the winding road. Sidney’s home rested on three rolling acres, setting it apart from the neighbors. She knew it afforded Sidney a sense of solitude that she craved, but at the moment, that privacy could spell disaster.
Her worst fears were realized when she saw two distinct forms on the radar image. One of the signatures was stationary. The other was on the move slowly on the outside of the dwelling. Undoubtedly, this was Sidney’s stalker.
Ronan stopped the bike at the property entrance and dismounted, concerned the assassin would hear her approach. She would have to move on foot down the long driveway. She pushed the bike behind some large oaks where it would be out of sight from any prying eyes. She reached into a saddlebag, removed a laser pistol, and tucked it into her waistband before she expertly scaled the high fence and dropped lightly to the other side. Since the scan indicated she was alone here, Ronan wasn’t as concerned about any noise she made.
She ran as quickly as she could for the home at the rear of the property and gasped in fear when she finally arrived to find the front door hanging open.
SIDNEY HAD ENJOYED the ride from Baltimore. Driving helped her relax and there was relatively little traffic. Without any distractions, her thoughts had centered on a beautiful blonde angel. Ronan Lee was a mystery and instinctively Sidney knew that conundrum had something to do with her. She just couldn’t imagine what it could be, but sensed that it was not good and that idea caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end.
Still, she enjoyed Ronan’s dry sense of humor as well as her accent, and made any excuse to be around her. She was sure that Ronan had been flirting with her recently, but had never stated anything directly. The possessive hand she placed on her back when they walked together made Sidney feel warm. As a public figure, Sidney shouldn’t allow such familiarity. The paparazzi would relish the opportunity to gather any incriminating photos, but she couldn’t seem to resist.
Sidney’s feelings for Ronan were very intense, but she hadn’t wanted to think about the implications before. Now, it was at the point where Ronan was all she could think about. She’d even dreamt of kissing her and awakened from the dreams tingling all over. Something about it bothered her so much that she’d taken off on this sudden flight in an effort to put some distance between them. When she reached the Rock Hall estate, she realized she’d just been overreacting and felt much better. All she had needed was a break from her regular routine to sort things out.
In the home she had known since childhood, Sidney felt more centered and ready for a short rest before dinner. There wasn’t any staff at this country manor, which was just what she preferred and Sidney looked forward to making her own dinner. That didn’t mean she allowed the house to go neglected. One call to a caretaker before leaving her apartment ensured it would be ready for brief occupancy. With the bed freshly made and a few groceries brought in, Sidney would be comfortable for a couple of days while she enjoyed some well-earned solitude.
First, she would take a nap.
Sidney showered quickly, looking forward to the feel of crisp, clean sheets against her body. She emerged from the upstairs bathroom, threw on a thick terrycloth robe, and padded barefoot across the hardwood floors while she rubbed at her wet hair with a towel. The house was comfortably heated and helped to settle her further.
When she inherited the house, she’d made it her own by redecorating the master bedroom in soft earth tones that never failed to relax her taut nerves. She breathed a sigh of contentment when she entered the room. Even though her grandparents had been dead for seven years, Sidney still believed she could smell the aftershave her grandfather wore. It seemed to linger in the air.
She smiled as she tossed the towel over the wing-backed chair in the corner and pulled back the covers. Night was beginning to fall and she felt her body relax into the downy comfort. She had just started to drift off when a noise roused her from the light sleep in which she’d been floating. Not quite awake, she drifted for a moment more. Then Sidney heard it again and her eyes flew open. The noise had been the unmistakable sound of stairs creaking under the weight of a body.
Sidney leapt out of the bed, and grabbed for her robe. She had received anonymous notes at her penthouse apartment for the better part of a year. Each detailed how Sidney would meet her “admirer,” and each disturbed her more than the last. The notes outlined his hideous fantasies, and they typically ended with the stalker killing her in progressively more bloody ways. She wondered if he’d found out about the house and followed her there.
Shadows loomed from the hall and suddenly a large man filled the doorway. The light of the full moon illuminated his visage. He had a broad, flat face with sharp-edged features and lips so thin and hard that they seemed carved from stone. A two-inch scar marked his left cheek. His dark eyes had no depth, reminding her of nightmarish images of demons on celluloid horror films. He appeared seemingly from nowhere, not there one second and then suddenly there.
He smiled, but the expression seemed forced and unnatural. It imparted no warmth to his features. If anything, the attempt terrified her even more than finding a strange hulking man in her home, uninvited, but clearly on a mission. He held a large blac
k weapon that vaguely resembled a rifle but carried a long, extended magazine. From her experience in the film industry, she suspected it was an automatic. She innately knew the letters she’d received were from him and that he was as dangerous as he was mentally unbalanced.
“Get out of my house,” she demanded with as much false bravado as she could muster.
The intruder chuckled. “Finally we meet. I’ve been dreaming about you, Sidney. Have you been dreaming about me? Have you thought about the words I wrote to you in my letters? Fantasized as I have?”
She couldn’t respond as he confirmed her worst fears, didn’t know how, and could only stare at him, caught between the urge to stare at him in horrified fascination or flee in abject terror.
He hardly paused, saving her the necessity of responding. “Unfortunately, we don’t have much time. Your girlfriend is coming and I really would prefer that we not be interrupted.”
“Girlfriend,” she repeated softly, frowning in confusion. Then comprehension flooded her and she felt a brief moment of relief. “Ronan? Ronan is coming?”
The bearish man frowned intently and Sidney thought she’d somehow confirmed his twisted suspicions with her innocent question. She could easily interpret his internal convictions from his furious expression. She was supposed to be his, supposed to save herself only for him. Now she had desecrated that bond and he couldn’t allow her to go unpunished. An expression of almost sincere regret drifted across his face and then vanished.
“You betrayed me. You copulated with another and now you’re unclean. That is regrettable, Sidney.”
“Wait,” she shouted and threw up a hand in automatic self-defense. “I haven’t—”
The stranger shook his head, which stopped her cold. Sidney thought she could see unshed tears glisten in his dark eyes.
“Too late, my dear. You cannot deny what I so clearly see.”
She thought he might be some kind of religious nut. No one spoke like that.
