Pushed to the Limit

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “And my trusty black book.”

  In which he scribbled the address Sydney gave him. “That's the Capitol Hill area.”

  “Across from Volunteer Park. Hey, want me to call Honor and put in the good word for you?”

  “No,” he said quickly. “Don't you dare try to help me. Besides, I think she got a definite first impression of me that she won't soon forget.”

  Sydney chuckled. “Big-headed as always. One of these days a woman is going to knock the stuffing out of you, Prince Charming.”

  “One already did.” He'd never forget his ex-fiancé Maureen O’NEILL, who had been as deceptive as they'd come. “I don't plan on letting it happen again.”

  “Love finds us whether or not we're ready for it,” Sydney warned him with a dreamy sigh.

  Knowing his sister thought she was in love with some character named Benno DeMartino just because the man saved her life, Dakota didn't argue. She couldn't have fallen for real, not so soon after the fiasco prompted by the late, shady Al Fox, a man she'd also thought she loved. The current romance would undoubtedly cool off as soon as Sydney came to her senses, but no reason to upset her with that projection.

  Bringing the conversation to a close with his promise to give their father Sydney's love, Dakota replaced the receiver and returned his notebook to his inside jacket pocket.

  Honor's address was burned into his memory anyway, Dakota thought as he returned to his car. He was going to find the place and sit on her doorstep until the actress returned from her rendezvous, even if it meant waiting all night.

  HONOR PARKED HER CAR in an all but deserted area under the viaduct along

  Alaskan Way. Now that she was about to make the drop, her adrenaline was rushing as fast as the vehicular traffic would on a good night. This wasn't a good night for her, Honor thought, not unless Nora ended up in her arms because of it.

  “Please, God, keep my little girl safe,” she whispered. “Bring her home to me by morning.”

  They hadn't said when Nora would be returned. No promises until she delivered the goods.

  What they had said was “before midnight.”

  She was early, a little after eleven. Ironic considering she might not have been able to show at all. What they might have done to Nora if she hadn't come through was something she didn't want to contemplate. Uneasily, she fingered the envelope with its innocuous documents. If they thought she was trying to pull one over on them...

  Unable to stand the wait any longer, she chose to act immediately and damn the early hour. By the time she crossed to the pier and dropped off the package, it would be about eleven-thirty. Then she could get the hell out of there... or wait to see who made the pick up.

  Her pulse ticked unevenly as she considered the daring notion, then tried to forget about it. Damn Dakota for giving her the idea in the first place.

  Too dangerous, she told herself, not only for her, but for her daughter.

  But not if she were the first to arrive and then found a safe place to hide, a little voice contradicted.

  She wouldn't do anything foolish, Honor assured herself, carrying on with the fantasy. She wouldn't try to follow the man. She would merely watch. Observe. Maybe she would notice something that would identify the kidnapper later when she could finally report the crime to the police.

  What was she thinking of? Hadn't she decided to take her daughter and disappear so no one could ever threaten Nora again? No, Honor admitted to herself, she hadn't decided anything of the kind. Not for certain. She wasn't a coward and running from anything or anyone went against her grain. Besides, taking Nora from the first real home they'd shared for more than a few months at a time would be cruel.

  Besides, she didn't have Nora yet.

  First things first.

  Choosing to wear the wig and fake glasses in case anyone saw her, she shed the red duster. Too conspicuous and she wanted to blend into her surroundings as best she could. Before getting out of the car, she took a thorough look around. No other human traffic in sight.

  Nerves tingling, she slid out into the dark night, envelope tucked tightly under one arm.

  Her eyes kept moving, watching, noting only a few other cars parked in the area, most notably a souped up Olds with tires too large for its frame, a Plymouth with a vanity license plate reading HOTSHOT, and a silver BMW of indeterminate age. She kept watch for their possible owners but neither saw nor heard anyone as she crossed to the dock area.

  Her heart was in her throat as she strode forward, her sense of unreality growing by leaps and bounds. She felt as though her body didn't exactly belong to her. Someone else was moving the legs that closed the gap to the wharf. Another pressed the arm that held the precious package at her side. Even the ache that started in the pit of her stomach and spread to her extremities seemed once removed, sort of like a toothache more remembered than felt.

  As she drew closer to the drop-off site, she began to understand the real meaning of fear, which skulked through her chest and slithered around her lungs until she felt as if she would suffocate.

  The setting was so ominous.

  Unlike the brightly lit, noisy piers just a short distance to the north, this one wasn't currently in use. It was deserted. Eerily quiet. Dark.

  Dangerous.

  The night was moonless, the stars swallowed by the cloud cover overhead. Black. Everything was so black. Only a few lights washed pale pools of silver-blue over small areas of the dock and its ramshackle warehouses. Mist crawled up from the ocean, writhing and twisting along the wooden planking now beneath her feet, circling her ankles like prison chains that slowed her down.

  Stopped and feeling all too vulnerable, Honor had the distinct sensation that she was being watched.

  Quickly looking over her shoulder toward the first building she'd passed, she saw no one. Her gaze then skimmed the larger hulking warehouse that squatted before her on the pier. No light, no movement, no indication of another human presence. Ears attuned for the slightest sound, she relaxed a bit when all she heard were waves washing over the pilings below.

  She was imagining things, Honor told herself, trying to make light of the spooky sensation. Undoubtedly, she wouldn't feel safe for a long time after this incident was over. The distinct, familiar smell of the ocean assaulted her nose and she reveled in the sharp scent of reality, a combination of salt and fish.

  Fish.

  That reminded her of salmon, her reason for being here – her daughter in trade for some stupid documents that could point a wagging finger at the salmon fishing industry.

  It just didn't make sense that someone wanting such information would go to these extreme lengths to get it. Why involve an innocent person, an outsider? she wondered. Unless there was more to the mystery than she'd suspected. She hadn't thought with a clear mind since Nora had been snatched, and now wasn't the time to indulge herself.

  Later, she promised herself. After Nora was safe she would help Dakota any way she could. She owed him that.

  But now she was going to deliver the documents as instructed.

  She forced her legs to move, counted doorways, found the old supply box at the fifth mooring down. With one last quick look around to assure herself she had no witnesses – though the sensation of being watched still clung to her subconscious – she slid the envelope inside. And then she retreated, her steps quick and sure as though the only thought on her mind was to get out of there.

  Exactly what she should have done.

  But when she passed the smaller warehouse nearest the street, she melded with its shadows, swung behind a staircase which she could use as cover. She hadn't known she was going to do so until that very second. She'd thought she was going to be smart, watch out for herself and Nora.

  But that's exactly what she was doing, Honor realized. Dakota had been right. She couldn't count on the word of a criminal, and she was desperate to find her daughter.

  So, not knowing what her next move would be, she sat on a discarded fruit
crate and waited.

  She couldn't shake the certainty that someone else nearby waited, as well.

  The luminous dials of her watch warned her as midnight approached. Rather than revving up as she might expect, her nerves calmed, leaving behind cold anger which cleared her mind and honed her senses.

  A scrabbling sound behind her whipped Honor off her seat. She spotted a wharf rat poking around, probably looking for food. Her heart pounded. She hated rats, feared them, so much so that she was tempted to leave.

  In the distance, a church bell tolled.

  Midnight.

  The magic hour.

  To her relief, the rat scurried away, freeing her attention, and just in time. Someone was moving cautiously along the other warehouse, nearing the drop off site. No wonder she'd felt as if she were being watched. The pick-up man had beat her to the site and been lying in wait.

  Whoever it was would have to come past her to get away, however, and when he did...

  Honor peeked out further from behind the staircase as a paper rustled behind her. The rat or one of his companions had returned. She steeled herself against being distracted. A dark form was sneaking out from the warehouse shadows, entering a pool of silver-blue light. As though suspecting she was watching, the person turned to stare in her direction.

  Honor ducked back into her own shadows and counted to ten before daring to stick out her head once more. Startled, she saw no one. But she hadn't given the person enough time to retrieve the documents and get away. What was going on?

  About to take yet another step from her hiding place, Honor heard a noise behind her too loud and distinct to be made by a rat. Before she could turn to face her danger, pain exploded through the back of her head, her vision blurred and stars lit her inner sky.

  And then the brightness faded to twilight...