Something flashed in her eyes. She took a step closer to him, the toe of her boot stepped on his loafer. She didn’t back down.
“Did it ever occur to you that I wanted him to take me home? That maybe I was looking for sex?”
The muscles in his face went lax. Holy shit. He pulled his hat off to scratch his head. Damn, this was uncomfortable. He stared at the fiery little blonde. She may be dressed the part and her actions now added up to her words…but something didn’t fit.
Her eyebrows bobbed at him waiting for a response. She was accusing him of cock blocking. Unbelievable. Or would it even be called that? He didn’t want to explore the female version.
She was trying to make him squirm. For a heartbeat, she’d succeeded. Now he was going to knock some sense into her stubborn head.
“And I ruined it for you, is that it?”
Her lips spread into a smirk. “Obviously.”
“And that’s the kind of guy you want to fit the bill? Someone who drags you across the parking lot? C’mon, Riley you’re not fooling anyone.” He opened and closed his hands, hesitation built in his chest at the questions screaming in his head. “Are you against nice guys or something?”
She widened her eyes and her teeth scraped over her bottom lip. “You mean guys like you?”
Hell yeah, he meant guys like him. He hadn’t pursued her. Not once. But he always sparked conversation with her hoping to crack the dark cloud that she carried over her head.
She shook her head. A flash of something in her green flared eyes alerted his senses. Regret?
She let out a low breath. “There’s no nice way to say this…I’m not interested.” She shrugged and moved to turn away. He held his hand out and she stopped.
Her words sunk slowly through his eardrums. He wasn’t arrogant enough to accuse her of lying. Hell, based on her distance with their every conversation, he had no doubt she meant it. But that didn’t make the pull toward her that started in his chest any less. He should have listened to his head and stayed out of her business. She was complicated as hell and every time he walked away from her, his head ached with confusion.
The fact that she’d flat-out faked being drunk hadn’t escaped his attention. But it did set an alarm bell in his head. And no matter how much she pushed him away, the FBI agent in him needed to know why she’d put on that act tonight.
“I get that,” he said evenly. “But try to exercise some common sense. I might not be around next time.”
She snorted. “You’re an asshole.”
He lifted his shoulders. “Funny that you’re not interested then, isn’t it?”
“Don’t come near me again,” she said barely above a whisper, her voice shaking. She pushed past him, but not before he’d caught the tears glimmering in her eyes. His anger deflated like air releasing from a balloon.
A knot formed in his chest. Guilt burned through his stomach. His fingers clenched on the ball cap in his hands, crushing its bill. He’d let his anger get the best of him. It wasn’t like him to lose his cool. But Riley did something to him. Her aloof attitude had been driving him crazy since he’d arrived in the small town of Beaufort, North Carolina. Living next door, they bumped into each other almost every day, and even more frequently when he visited the restaurant she worked at. The harder he tried to talk to her, the more distant she’d become.
And for what? Because he’d talked about the weather or asked for his coffee to be topped up? Or left her a nice sized tip?
His eyes followed her as she reached the sidewalk and headed down the road. He couldn’t let her walk home alone, but he couldn’t approach her again. If he followed her, no doubt she’d call the cops.
If something happened to her, he’d be responsible. He walked the rest of the way to his truck, pulled the keys from his pocket, and slid in. His hands tightened on the steering wheel.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
If she didn’t like him before tonight, she downright despised him now. He waited fifteen minutes before pulling out of the parking lot. If the lights were on in her house, he’d at least be able to sleep easy that she’d made it home.
He made a few detours and drove extra slow, then came back to the main street just as she rounded the corner of their street. She passed under the streetlamp, its glow picked up the soft sheen of her hair. Her arms hung at her sides, her hands balled into tight fists, and her back rigid. He turned in the opposite direction, not wanting to pull in his driveway at the same time she got home. He drummed his thumb on the steering wheel and continued down the street. He wasn’t tired. Not one bit. Instead, he couldn’t get the image of her flared nostrils and fierce green eyes from his head.
Part of him, the reasonable part, wanted nothing else to do with her. It was a small town, but he could avoid her. And if he couldn’t, he could leave and find another town to do his soul-searching in. Even if he’d signed a lease until the end of the month. He rubbed the pad of his index finger between his eyes. At thirty-three years old he was too damn old for this shit. Next time, he wouldn’t try to rescue damsels in distress. Who was he anyway? Batman?
His headlights caught a yellow and black checkered sign—a dead end. He turned his truck around and stopped the vehicle. Regret churned inside him. He never should have shown his interest in her. But if he knocked on the door at this hour to explain, she’d scream the whole street down. He had to forget about her. She was making him crazy. He pulled away from the curb and headed back the way he’d come.
Who the hell was he kidding? He couldn’t forget about her any easier than he could poke his eyes out. He was screwed.
Chapter 2
What an asshole. Who the hell did he think he was butting into her life? He’d been pleasant since he’d moved in, but he’d been right. She wasn’t interested in guys like him. Oh no. She had her sights set on different characteristics. Besides, he’d only been here two weeks. He couldn’t possibly be the guy she was looking for. Which made him no good to her. Until now, she’d tried to be polite, but screwing up her plan with Ryan had been crossing the line. And now he’d gone from annoying her to making her want to gouge out his persistent, overbearing blue eyes.
She shoved the key in the door and turned the lock. The smooth piece of metal didn’t resist in her hand, nor did the lock click. Her brow furrowed. She’d left the door unlocked? That wasn’t like her. Nearly every citizen in Beaufort didn’t lock their doors, but in Boston, you’d be crazy not to. She swung the door open, flicked on the hall light, and shut the door behind her. It was eerie staying in Hanna’s old house since she’d disappeared. On one hand, she felt closer to her missing friend, and on the other, a constant pit of devastation sucked at her chest with every reminder of Hanna.
Riley had been raised in Beaufort, but her family had moved away shortly after she’d started school in Boston. At least in the house that Hanna’s parents owned, she didn’t have to impose on anyone and she had her own space. Except for the apartment upstairs that was rented by Michael, one of the area’s dentists.
The soles of her feet throbbed in her cowboy boots. She winced as she pulled her boots off and dropped them to the floor.
Creak…
The slow, gentle shift of the hardwood floors straightened her spine. She sucked her breath in through her nose and closed her hand around her keys.
Someone was in the house.
She swallowed. Her feet rooted to the spot and ice filled her veins.
No. She was being paranoid. It was an old house full of creaks and groans. The sound very well could have come from upstairs where Michael lived.
But it had sounded like her floors…
She straightened her shoulders and strained her ears. Not another noise sounded. She locked the front door and turned toward the kitchen. She’d grab a glass of water, get into bed, and go straight to sleep.
Moonlight streamed in thr
ough the kitchen window, shining through the sheer, white curtains. She groped for the light switch and the bright fluorescents lit the kitchen. She reached for the cupboard, snagged a glass and—
The lights went out. Her pulse raged against her throat. She wheeled around, the glass wielded in front of her like a weapon. The soft rattling of metal sounded at the back door in the mudroom. It was a double dead bolt that always stuck and took a lot of maneuvering.
It could be him…
She couldn’t let him get away. Her purse lay at the front door, her phone tucked inside it. Her gaze traced the counter, but darkness concealed the object she sought. She fumbled along the laminate surface until her fingers grazed the smooth knife block. She set the glass down and pulled the butcher’s knife out. Its hard, silver sheen caught the moonlight as she moved swiftly for the mudroom.
A tall, black-clothed form blocked out the light from the back door. She tightened her grip on the handle of the knife and poised it in the air, ready to stab if he moved.
“Stop! Raise your hands or I’ll—”
He turned and charged, his shoulder jabbed into her stomach, and she stumbled to the floor, the knife dropped from her fingers. A black hood fell low over his forehead, shielding his eyes. He crouched down and lifted the blade.
No!
He was going to stab her. She scrambled on her knees and stood on wobbling legs, waiting for the sharp penetration of the knife. She raced through the house. Her feet pounded the old wooden floors. Light from the streetlamp outside shone through the window of the front door, guiding her way. She clawed at the lock, panic made her movements clumsy. Heat blazed up her spine. He would be right behind her.
She turned the lock and flung the door open. She bounded down the stairs and into the street. A scream tore from her throat.
“Help!”
Headlights coated her body, blinding her. Tires screeched across the pavement and the large face of a truck filled her vision.
It stopped inches from her. Her chest rose and fell, heat scorched off the hood of the truck, branding her cold skin. Paralysis settled into her bones and her lungs ached for air. Hands closed around her upper arms, shaking her.
“Riley! What happened?”
She looked up to find wild, familiar blue eyes looking at her, but they didn’t register. She shook her head, grasping at his arms. “H–He’s in my house,” she wheezed. He kept his hold on her and craned his neck toward her large Carolina porch. Her eyes searched his face and recognition set in.
“Ethan?”
“Get in my truck and lock the doors. I’ll be right back.” He ushered her to the open driver’s door and she climbed in.
She grabbed his bicep, and her hand didn’t even come close to circling it. “He has a knife.” The words tumbled from her lips, breathless and strained.
“He’s going to need it.” Ethan shut the door and strode purposefully for the house. As he reached the sidewalk, his hand pulled something from the small of his back…its black metallic sheen stalled her breath: a gun. Her eyes didn’t leave him until he disappeared inside the dark house. Her body trembled in violent shakes and she pressed her hands to her temples.
Someone had been in her house…
Why?
Cool air blasted from the vents, chilling her skin even more. She took one deep, shuddering breath, and then another. She had to call the police but there was no way in hell she was going in to get her phone. She wrung her hands on her lap and scanned the darkness through the windshield.
The driver’s side door opened and a screech bubbled from her throat.
“It’s okay, it’s me.” Ethan’s large hand clasped her shoulder. “Are you hurt? What the hell happened?”
She licked her lips and her eyes swept behind him.
“He’s gone,” he said softly.
She loosened the hold on her fingers and her extremities tingled as blood flow returned. She swallowed. “I heard something when I came in but didn’t think much of it. I went to the kitchen for a glass of water and the lights went out.” Her voice trembled, and she took a breath to steady it. “I grabbed a knife and went to the back door where I heard him trying to get out. I confronted him and he knocked me to the ground. I got up and ran and—”
“Okay, okay.” His soft tone silenced her and he reached in and pulled her out of the vehicle. “You’re shaking,” he said. His hands rubbed up and down her arms, heat ebbed from his body, making her ache to lean into it. She kept her back straight, resisting.
“I should call the police,” she mumbled.
“I already did.”
God, he was quick. His hands moved down her spine efficiently.
“Are you sure you’re not hurt? That was a stupid thing to do. You should have gotten out, not grabbed a fucking knife,” he growled.
She stiffened against him and tipped her head back to scowl at him.
“And waiting for him to attack is better?”
The hard line of his mouth tensed. “You could have been killed.”
Irritation rippled through her, but she didn’t have the energy to argue with him again. And, despite herself, she was grateful he was here.
She pinched her brows together. “Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine.”
His gaze shifted away and then landed back on her. “I see that.” His mouth hitched up at the corner and her stomach muscles tightened. Under normal circumstances, that smile would have wobbled her knees. But not now. She pressed her fingers to her forehead. She should still be pissed at him. But he’d helped her, and for that she was grateful.
Sirens split the air and a few minutes later two police cruisers pulled up to the curb. The rest of the night was a whirlwind. She’d insisted Ethan leave, but he’d hovered near his truck after first speaking with Detective Drummond. She’d known Joe Drummond growing up, and saw him often at the diner. She gave her statement on the porch while the police searched her house for signs of entry and fingerprints.
“I think we have all we need, Riley. Do you have somewhere you can stay for the night?” Joe’s warm brown eyes fixed on her as he tucked his notepad away. She almost shook her head, but knowing Joe and the tight-knit community, he’d find someone to take her in.
She nodded. “I’ll—”
Ethan strode up, his hands buried deep in his pockets. “You need a ride somewhere? It’s getting late.”
Joe cleared his throat and nodded at her before making his way back to his squad car.
She forced a tense smile and got to her feet. “Thanks, I’m fine.”
Ethan’s eyebrows rose, crinkling his tanned forehead in the porch light. “You’re not staying here are you?”
Not a chance in hell.
“No, I have somewhere to go.” He didn’t need to know that place was a hotel. But there was no way she’d wake her friend Jenny up at this hour. It might be a while before she’d have the nerve to come back, and definitely not until the locks were changed.
“Let me give you a ride.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Look, I appreciate all you’ve done but please, I just want to be alone. You’ve done enough.” Her tone held more edge than she’d intended. His eyes grew small and he nodded slowly.
“Fine. You seem to have it together.”
“I do.” And later, she’d fall apart. But not now. Relief expanded in her chest when he climbed in his truck and pulled in to the driveway next door. She closed her eyes against the hammering against her temples and turned toward the door to gather her things. In her bedroom, she pulled the tiny ziplock bag from her back pocket. A handful of small pills stared back at her before she tucked them in her bag.
She’d been close tonight. Had Ethan not have intercepted her leaving with Ryan, she might have been able to complete her plan. It was risky, there was no doubt about that. But every other
avenue was futile—the police next to useless.
Riley had been staying here for weeks, but finding the journal yesterday had been a complete stroke of luck. She’d grabbed an extra blanket from the top shelf in Hanna’s bedroom closet and Hanna’s journal had fallen out and landed on her toes. She’d dropped to the floor and had stayed there, combing over the neat penmanship.
The words from one entry she read rang through her mind:
He was attractive in the tall, dark, and lean way that I gravitate to, but he was too ballsy. We talked for a while until he made me feel like a piece of meat and continued to feed me shots. I made up an excuse, got into a cab and came home. I hope he’s not there next time I go out.
After reading that, Riley had had no choice but to go out tonight. She’d gone to the same bar, and sure enough, Ryan had fit the description and actions of the man who’d come on strong to Hanna. It was a small town, there couldn’t be that many creeps who frequented the bar. She shoved fresh clothes into her bag, stopped to gather her things from the bathroom, and then quickly got out of the house.
Ryan had been ready to take her home, and she had been ready to catch him. All she’d had to do was go to his house, let him pour them drinks, and slip two of the pills in his glass. It wouldn’t have taken long for them to take effect, and in that time she would bring up Hanna. This was the trickiest part about her plan. She couldn’t come across as accusing, or he’d be suspicious. Instead, she’d break down into tears about her missing friend, show him Hanna’s picture, and with the help of the drugs, he’d hopefully slip up enough to make him a viable suspect. Then he would pass out and she’d call the cops and let them do their part.
Her plan was unconventional, challenging, and possibly suicidal. But it was all she had. The harsh reality was that Hanna could be dead…but there was still the possibility that she wasn’t. One thing was certain, the longer she was missing, the less likely it was she’d be found alive.
* * * *
Bait Page 2
