Freezing Point (12 page)

She didn't even know the guy. Not really. She shoved thoughts of a relationship with Jesse to the back of her mind. She had a job to do. There were so many questions she'd failed to ask because the strain of Will Tannin's interference had hampered her skills as a reporter. She needed to remedy that, and today could be the day.

Enthralled with the artistry surrounding her, Casey strolled down the marked-off aisles and took snapshot after snapshot of sculptors using the tools of the trade. She'd read about an entire restaurant created out of ice. What an incredible medium ice was.

Zooming out with her camera lens, she saw someone…

The face looked eerily familiar, but she lost him behind a towering ice sculpture. Casey lowered the camera and searched the room.

There.

She lifted the camera and zoomed in, finding him again. Alarm shivered down her spine.

There was no doubt where she'd seen him before. He was the guy in the parking lot that night.

His eyes…

She could never forget those eyes, even if she'd only seen their malicious stare for an instant. And they stared at her now.

Casey sagged, dropping the camera to her side. And just when she was beginning to relax, if only a little.

She turned to find her way back to Jesse through the maze of sculptures, not entirely sure which way she had walked, given she'd been completely mesmerized by the artistry. The crowd seemed to thicken around her, and in her rush to be near Jesse, it felt as though people intentionally bumped against her or shoved her back.

Her heart drummed. Her knees seemed to have a mind of their own, growing weaker by the second. Casey's terror was now becoming familiar, the same terror that Tannin had injected her with the last time she'd seen him.

Panic strangled her airway.

J
esse pressed the chain saw against the ice, feeling the power in his hands as the machine pulverized the frozen water, spraying powder behind him. He suspected the pluming ice enthralled the crowd the most, especially the kids.

The chain saw carved the ice, slicing into the cold formless block, following Jesse's carefully drawn guidelines for the sleek Pharaoh Hound. He planned for two resting at Ramses's throne, which he'd created at his studio and assembled here.

A small crowd had grown around him, pressing in against the ropes. While he concentrated on the ice, he was keenly aware that Casey wasn't anywhere in his peripheral vision, taking snapshots like she was supposed to be.

Jesse wanted to kick himself for asking her if Tannin had called her again, but her questions about Carlos were absolutely not in anyone's best interest—especially not hers.

Idiot!
As soon as she'd entered his life, his handling of this assignment was clunky at best.

Why had he promised her he would protect her? He wanted to—God knew he wanted to be there for her. But to make the promise so that she would feel protected? He took out his ire on the ice and slipped, missing the line completely, the chain saw slicing through an entire section of the block.

Gasps rose around him.

The chunk of ice crashed to the floor and broke into two pieces.

Great. Just…great.
He kept a straight face, as if he'd cut the hunk from the ice on purpose.

Jesse powered down the chain saw and placed it on the table next to him. He leaned forward on his knees and caught his breath. He had no idea if his following recognized his faux pas. The crazy part was he wondered why he even cared?

He wasn't an ice sculptor. Not really. Yes, he knew the trade, but he was an undercover agent who was hung up on a reporter who was in over her head without even trying. Since he stopped working, the gathering began to disperse if only slightly.

Good riddance.

Think, I need to think.
How did he fix this? What other Egyptian animal or symbol could he make from the ice?

A bigger problem stared him in the face. How did he fix the dilemma of Casey being stuck in the middle of his undercover assignment? Stuck in the middle of his heart?

Was she in the predicament because he'd agreed to the initial interview when all he'd meant to do was keep her safe? What a moron he'd been. Would she be clear of any danger where Carlos or someone in the crime ring was concerned once the competition was done, and her article finished?

All along, Jesse had questioned what Casey had done to generate the sort of attention she was getting. The SUV that had nearly struck her, the man outside the studio—the incidents were unconfirmed as attempts on her life, but forensics took much longer than an hour as portrayed on television. Regardless, Jesse didn't need confirmation to know Casey was in danger. And now, he had his question answered. Carlos thought she'd overheard an important conversation.

Now Jesse had a new question—why was Casey still alive?

To keep her that way she was going to need to cooperate, which meant she shouldn't be wandering far. His gaze traveled through the crowd of families with children, couples, teenagers, gangster types, the works, searching for any sign of Casey. That's when he saw him.

Knife Guy.

Jesse had thought of him as the parking-lot guy until he had pulled that knife on him.

He was dressed differently—no hooded sweatshirt and tough-guy look. Instead he wore nice slacks and a baseball cap, but Jesse would never forget that face. What was he doing here?

Jesse's pulse thrummed in his neck, drowning out all other sounds.

He hopped over the rope and made his way through the crowd. The man disappeared behind a display. Had he seen Jesse and was now trying to hide? Was he here for Casey?

Desperate, Jesse pressed through the throng, looking for Knife Guy, looking for Casey. Someone stumbled into Jesse—or was it the other way around? He couldn't be certain.

He whirled around. “Excuse me.”

Then he spotted Knife Guy, standing next to what looked to be a seven-hundred-pound sculpture of Seattle's Space Needle. It rose loftily above the crowd, and it appeared dangerously top heavy.

Jesse gritted his teeth. What had the sculptor been thinking?

Casey stood frozen on the opposite side of the sculpture, staring directly at Jesse. Alarm sprang from her eyes.

Instantly, the hair on his arms and neck stood up.

Screams erupted around him. The icy space needle began swaying. In slow motion, the needle began toppling.

Casey was directly in its path.

A third of a ton of ice could crush her.

“Noooooooo! Casey!”

Jesse flew over the markers, shoved people aside and propelled himself forward, slamming against Casey, pushing her out of harm's way.

The sculpture crashed, sending chunks of ice splaying, and sliding mere inches from where Jesse and Casey lay sprawled on the cold floor.

Jesse covered Casey with his body, protecting her. He hoped he hadn't crushed her himself.

When it was over, Jesse continued to hold her, wishing he could protect her forever.

 

Casey sucked in air. Her breath had been knocked from her. She groaned, and opening her eyes, saw people gathering around, staring down at her. Some faces frowned, others bore concerned expressions, and still others held open curiosity.

The ache of being thrown to the floor slowly dissipating, she turned her head to the side, only now comprehending that Jesse was speaking to her. That he hovered near like a protective wall.

He peered at her, worry lining his face. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Sure, but how did you…” Casey pushed herself up on her elbows. “Jesse, did you see him? The man from the parking lot?”

He nodded and climbed to his feet, then offered his hand.

She took it, allowing him to assist her up. “That can't be a coincidence. It just can't be.” Trying to hide her trembling, Casey wrapped her arms around herself. Security guards arrived, along with the hotel manager—a suited man in his late thirties—and the event coordinator—a young woman dressed professionally in a dark gray suit.

Everyone seemed to be speaking to Casey at the same time, the questions clouding her thoughts.

“What happened here?”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“Where is the sculptor?”

“Which exhibit was this?”

But their questions accosted her from behind tunnel vision. She squeezed her eyes and rubbed them.

“Ma'am, do you want to file a complaint?”

Casey frowned, unable to respond at the moment. She was still trying to come to grips with what had just happened.

Others answered the questions for her, several explaining that the space needle had fallen over, crashing to the ground. No one said anything about someone pushing it. No one explained that someone had tried to kill her.

Could she simply have imagined seeing the guy from the parking lot lean against the sculpture?

“Can you just give her a minute?” Jesse once again stepped up to the task of shielding her and tugged her away from the chaos into a quiet corner.

Casey was too dazed to consider her responses.

Jesse grabbed her elbow and directed her away from the center of attention, through the growing crowd that pressed into—although security guards were now conducting crowd control—and outside the hotel.

She leaned against him as he guided her, feeling her knees wobble beneath her. “How can you be so strong after what just happened?”

“Because I have to be.”

Once at her car, Jesse held out his hand. “Keys?”

“What do you need those for?”

“To unlock your door. You're going home.”

Casey was stunned. “But what about my article?”

“You've got what you need, don't you?”

“I…uh…”

“Go home, lock the doors and write your story. You'll be safe at home, don't worry.”

“Oh, yeah? What about my uncle's friend and the other intruder who broke in for some reason?”

“The first guy had the code, and the other guy got in because you hadn't armed the system.”

Suddenly, Casey's knees gave out, but Jesse caught her against him. He held her tight and stroked her hair. “Maybe I should drive you home.”

“No, Jesse. I've done enough to disrupt your day. But aren't you going to tell me I should call the police?”

“Definitely, you should file a report about what happened today. I just don't think it's safe for you to do it here, that's all.”

“But did you hear the others? No one said anything about seeing someone push over the sculpture.”

“Someone saw it.”

“Did you?”

“I saw Knife Guy standing next to the sculpture, that's enough.”

“Knife Guy?”

“It's a long story. I'm just surprised no one was hurt.”

Casey sighed and eased away from him. “Thank you, Jesse.”

“You're welcome.” His smile was tender, caring. “I'll call a friend to meet you at your house and check it out for you. I've got something to take care of.”

What could
that
be? “You're not going to try to find him, are you?” Now there was a story—that is, on any other day. Exhaustion seemed to infuse her very being.

Jesse didn't respond. Instead he unlocked her car door and opened it for her.

“So that's it. No goodbye kiss?”

He jammed his hands in his front hoodie pocket instead of putting them around her where they should be, then he leaned in to kiss her, gently. It was as if she could feel how much he was holding back. In those few seconds, she sensed how he felt about her. There was so much more than simple attraction, but fear eclipsed anything between them.

A noise disrupted their kiss, and Jesse stiffened then scanned the parking lot. When his gaze returned to her, apprehension replaced any other emotion she'd hoped to see there.

“You did it, Jesse. You saved me today.”

“Barely. You shouldn't have left my side. Casey, until I know more about Knife Guy, do not come to the ice company and don't contact me.” His stern expression didn't do anything to calm her fears. “I'll call you.”

Though she wanted to ask a hundred questions, Casey slid into her car and locked the door then started the engine. Jesse waited and watched as she drove from the parking lot.

Lord, thank You for sending him. Please keep him safe.

Indecision clawed at her. She wasn't sure what to do now. The strong sense that she should run again, find somewhere else to hide, wouldn't let go. But where? And to whom? There wasn't another Jesse Dufour in the world, she was sure of that. With him was the only place she felt safe.

Heading away from the hotel, Casey wished she'd begged Jesse to come with her. Where else in this world could she live and feel safe? It was all too much. Tears slid down her cheeks. What had happened to her resolve to fight back, to fight Will Tannin?

To not let him get the best of her?

Her determination had been nothing more than an attempt to show herself strong, but she couldn't back it up, and any strength she had was quickly crumbling inside. She reached
over to dig in her bag for a tissue then realized she'd left something behind.
Danny's camera!

Probably dropped it in the tumble with the ice. She'd have to pay for it, which she couldn't afford. Still, under the circumstances, wouldn't Danny understand? Someone had tried to kill her—she couldn't prove it, but she had her suspicions. And so did Jesse.

Jesse was still at the hotel. He could meet her in the parking lot and help her find the camera. Then she would head home.

She dialed him on her cell and predictably, she got his voice mail. Pulling back into the parking lot, she tried to call him again and left a message that she'd wait in her car for him. No way would she venture back into that crowd with the creepy Knife Guy roaming free.

When she had the opportunity, she'd try to discover if there was a connection between the guy Jesse called Knife Guy and Will, or…Knife Guy and Carlos.

There, she'd given herself permission to consider that possibility.