Hunted Love (A Dangerous Kind of Love Book 2) (5 page)

“You know why? I’m not leaving until I find out who killed Robin and framed me.” He gave Brian a look. “I’m starting to think I’m the only one interested in finding her killer.”

Brian’s face turned hard. “I’m just as interested as you. More so.”

“Oh really? Were you able to find any information from that fancy med school that you went to?”

“I’m back, aren’t I?”

“And doing your best to avoid anyone who might know who murdered her and why.”

Brian shoved the supplies he brought back into his bag. “How many months have you been here now? Nine? Ten? More than enough time to find the killer. Do you have any suspects yet?”

Jamie regarded his old friend carefully. “Only the same as usual,” he said before his cough took over again.

“How long have you had that cough?”

“Since Thanksgiving.”

“Have you gone to see a doctor?”

“I’m doing it right now.”

Brian rolled his eyes.

“I was finally getting over it but last night brought it back.” After a moment, Jamie said, “You still haven’t told me why Kristen’s mad at me?”

“You don’t know?”

“Would I’ve asked if I knew?”

“Well, excuse me, but I just figured you were probably a part of it considering you’re sitting here bleeding on me.”

“Would you just tell me what’s wrong with Kristen?”

“Someone tried to kill Kristen and Nathan last night—” He checked his watch. “Or rather the night before during their New Year’s Eve party. Shot up their pub. Luckily, no one was hit. Most of the injuries were from the falling glass. It sounds like whoever did it shot high. Scared one of the poor waitresses half to death. Poor girl passed out and didn’t wake up until we were examining her. Kristen’s a nervous wreck. She’s convinced that she and Phoebe were the intended target.”

Jamie’s gaze flickered to the bedroom door. Another reason to stay away from Sarah. Maybe if he left she would move on and find some other place to work. He grabbed his boots from near the door and sat back down. “Does Nathan have any idea who could have taken a hit out on them?”

“Nah, he thinks it was just a random drive-by. Teenagers. It’s Kristen who thinks they were specifically targeted. Personally, I think—” He paused as Jamie began coughing again.

Closing his eyes, Jamie balanced his elbows on his knees and dropped his head to his chest in exhaustion. He rubbed a hand across his face too tired even to think. “Is Kristen all right?”

“She’s fine but she wants your head on a silver platter.”

Jamie stared at his boots for a moment, trying to draw enough energy to put them on. He took a breath and slipped his foot inside his boot.

“Phoebe’s not too thrilled with you either and she’s your biggest fan.”

“Why? What did I do? I wasn’t even there.”

“That’s the problem. You were supposed to be there. They said you had promised to attend their little soiree.”

Jamie reached for his other boot. “Something came up.”

“Nathan was expecting you to talk to that producer.”

“What producer?”

“You don’t know?”

Jamie glared at his friend.

“All right. All right. I don’t know all the details—Phoebe was sworn to secrecy—but apparently someone from Hollywood is thinking about filming a TV show about Robin’s death. One of those real-life crime documentaries. Nathan, Kristen and Phoebe have all signed off on the project.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Jamie made a face. “I’m surprised Kristen and Phoebe agreed to talk to anyone about the murder. I thought they were trying to put the past behind them.”

“Robin was their sister,” Brian said. “They may not have shown it but they loved her. It’s got to have been eating away at them all these years, not knowing who killed her. I think they’re ready to do something about it now. They think that maybe the TV show will bring out some new piece of evidence that no one knows about. The whole show hinges on your involvement though, and New Year’s Eve was supposed to be the meet and greet.”

“No wonder they didn’t tell me.”

“Kristen thinks Robin’s killer was sending them a warning to drop it. She’s scared to death and furious at you. She’s got it into her head that you could have prevented the shootout from happening, apparently, just by virtue of being there. Phoebe’s mad because she thinks you’re avoiding her.”

Jamie looked surprised. “I’m not avoiding her. It’s just that something came up. Tell Phoebe that I’m sorry and that I’ll see her when she comes back for the summer. She’s got another year of college, hasn’t she?”

“She quit.”

“Why?”

“She’s homesick, Jamie. She’s been complaining about the weather since she moved to Michigan. It’s just as well. I didn’t like the idea of her being all alone up there. I’m going to see if I can get her classes transferred to one of the colleges nearby so she can finish her degree here. She was all excited to be back home until last night happened.” His gaze shifted back to the bedroom door. “So, why weren’t you at the New Year’s Eve party?”

“I told you, something—”

“—came up,” Brian finished for him, his gaze flickering to the bedroom door. “Well, you should have called and let them know you couldn’t make it. It would have been the polite thing.”

“Thanks, Emily Post. I did call,” he ground out through his teeth. “I left a message with Danny.”

Brian snorted. “Danny? Why did you even bother?” He gave Jamie an accusatory look. “Kristen said that you gave your word that you’d be at the party and you flaked out on her.”

Jamie stood and reached for his coat hanging on the coat rack. He slipped his arms into the material as Brian pulled on his own coat. “I had something more important to attend to.”

“What could be more important than Kristen? Besides Phoebe and me, she’s the only person in this world who still believes you didn’t kill Robin. Don’t you care anymore?”

“I had no choice.” He jerked his chin to the bedroom door. “She needed me.”

“You always have a choice, man. Even if it’s a bad one, it’s still your choice.” He looked at the bedroom door, his dark eyes lighting up in curiosity. “Who is this girl, by the way?”

Jamie turned his head. He could’ve sworn he heard a creak coming from the bedroom. He motioned for Brian to be quiet as he walked to the bedroom door. He opened it and stepped inside.

Sarah lay on her back, her head facing the window. Her breathing was nice and even.

He turned to leave but stopped, surprised to find Brian standing at the bedroom door blocking his way. “Are you going to introduce me to your lady friend?” he whispered with a grin.

Jamie’s jaw clenched as he pushed his friend out the door. He dragged him into the living room and away from Sarah. “No. Come on. Let’s get out of here before she wakes up.” He walked over to the small wooden desk in the corner of the room. Picking up a pen, he flipped open a notepad and started to write a goodbye note to Sarah.

Brian hovered over his shoulder. “What are you going to do now?”

“Disappear for a while.”

“I just showed up back in town and you’re already running out on me. Was it something I said?”

Jamie ripped the paper off the pad and crumpled into a ball before stuffing it into his pocket.  “I just need to get away.”

“What about Robin’s murderer?”

“He’s not going anywhere,” he muttered. “A few more months won’t make much of a difference.”

“And the TV show?”

“Not happening.”

“Good.”

Jamie looked at him curiously.

“They’d just twist everything around,” Brian said a touch defensively. “Dredge up things that are better left alone. If we’re going to find Robin’s killer, we need to be the ones in control. I don’t trust Nathan and you know he’d be the one influencing the direction of the show. According to Phoebe, he was practically salivating when they told him how much they’d pay him for his story.”

Jamie turned his attention back to the pad of paper, trying once again trying to write something that would explain to Sarah why he had to go, but nothing he had come up with so far sounded right. For some reason, everything he had attempted to write came out sappy and overly melodramatic. Two things he hated.

With a sigh, he ripped the paper and stuffed it into his pocket with the other one. He pressed the pen to another sheet of paper and ordered his mind to think of some way to say goodbye.

It had never been this hard before. Never this painful. He grimaced, his arm throbbing along with his head. That was the problem. Pain was clouding his thoughts. That was all. He started writing again, getting at least two sentences out this time before ripping the paper off the pad.

“You’re running out of paper,” Brian said in exasperation. “What are you doing?”

“I’m saying goodbye.”

Brian looked at him quizzically. “At this rate you’ll be able to say it to her face. It’s almost morning.”

Jamie looked through the window. A warm glow of red and yellow broke over the trees. He swore as he scribbled a short terse message. It wasn’t what he wanted to say, not by a long shot. But it was what he had to say.

He ripped the piece of paper off the pad and laid it on the table, looking toward the bedroom door as he did.

“Done?” Brian asked as he opened the door.

A blast of cold air hit Jamie in the back, making him long to crawl into bed next to Sarah where it was warm and safe.
No
, he thought.
Not safe. Definitely not safe
.

He turned and faced the cold.
This was for the best
, he told himself as he walked to the door. Best for her and best for him. “Done.”

Brian stopped by the table, peering down on the note. “Goodbye, Sarah.” He grinned. “I like it. Short and to the point.”

Jamie grunted lightly as he waved Brian outside before closing the door. Sarah was safe now. Best to lay low for a while until things died down. She certainly didn’t need him messing up her life. He tested the door, making sure it had locked before trudging through the snow toward Brian’s car.

CHAPTER FIVE

Valentine’s Day

8:00 p.m.

Phoebe O’Malley reacted in surprise as her sister, Kristen Blake, dropped her hands from around her eyes. She screamed in delight as a big, beautiful white horse pranced into view with a big red bow around its neck.

The now twenty-one year old—although she seemed much younger—turned around and gave her big sister a hug before racing forward to check out her birthday present. Her brother-in-law, Nathan Blake, slid from the horse in time to receive his own hug.

Sarah shifted the tray she was holding to her other arm, smiled in amusement as the birthday girl kicked off her sparkly high heels, hiked her flowing multicolor pastel striped gown up to her thighs, and climbed on top of the horse.

With Phoebe’s long blonde wavy hair, big blue eyes, and sweet clean face with just the barest of lip gloss on her full lips, she looked like a fairy princess come to life. Sarah’s smile grew wider as Phoebe leaned forward in the saddle hugging her horse’s neck and smothering his neck with kisses.

The girl took the reins away from Nathan and looked as if she might set off with the horse down the driveway if her sister hadn’t hurried down the front steps right then and stepped in front of the horse, preventing Phoebe’s escape.

If Phoebe was the picture of downhome carefree innocence, Kristen was the personification of old Hollywood elegance, Sarah noted. Her make-up was flawless, her silver satin dress hugged every curve and her short black hair was carefully arranged so that not a strand was out of place. Kristen was so carefully put together, Sarah had a hard time picturing her kicking off her shoes and climbing on top of a horse in front of her guests as easily as her sister did.

Petting her new horse’s neck, Phoebe ignored Nathan as he read out loud the horse’s lineage.

Emily Silver, balancing a tray of chocolate mini cupcakes with pink icing on one hand whirled around Sarah as she bounced from guest to guest. When she came close enough, she whispered under her breath, “I bet that horse has a better pedigree than most of the people here. I hope they’re not planning on making us muck out stalls tonight.” She passed out her last two cupcakes to a couple of partygoers before turning back to Sarah. “At least not in this ridiculous outfit,” she said kicking up her heels and heading back inside.

Sarah, her own tray of champagne flutes now empty, followed her friend and co-worker back into Bellemeade Mansion, the name of Kristen and Nathan Blake’s mansion about forty-five minutes outside of Lexington.

“I don’t know,” she said catching her reflection in the mirror. She tucked a strand of blonde hair that had fallen loose back into the bun at the back of her head. “It’s not so bad. You’ve got to admit the red sequined bowtie and waistcoat does make a fashion statement.” They passed through the foyer and down a long dark hallway towards the kitchen located at the back of the house. Several clear vases filled either with a strand of pink or white lights sat on a long, thin console table helping to light the dark hallway. “I could do without the tight black miniskirt. It’s freezing cold in this house.”

Emily sat down at the round kitchen table and rubbed her ankle. “The red four inch red heels are a bit much too. I don’t know why we couldn’t wear our normal work clothes.”

Sarah set her tray down on the white marble island next to the table and reached for a champagne bottle. “Kelly green button down shirts, black pants and sensible shoes aren’t nearly sophisticated enough for this to-do.”

“Well, I’ve about had it.” Emily winced as she rotated her ankle around in the air. “You know whose idea this was, don’t you?”

Sarah raised her eyebrow as she filled a set of empty flutes with champagne. “Phoebe’s birthday party? I’d suspect her sister’s.”

“No, not that. I’m talking about the outfits we’re wearing.”

“Oh, well, I’ll take a wild shot in the dark here, but I’m betting Kristen’s or maybe Nathan’s.”

“Well, you’d be wrong.” Emily glanced around before whispering. “It was Holly’s. She insisted on the heels. I know she did.”

“Holly hasn’t been able to wear heels since she twisted her ankle at the New Year’s Eve party.”

From what Sarah had learned when she had returned to work a few days after New Year’s, Holly O’Malley, Phoebe and Kristen’s cousin, had been home for the holidays and celebrating the New Year with her family when the shooting started. Desperate to escape, she ran from the pub and out into the street that night with other fleeing partygoers, and in the blind panic that followed, she fell somehow and twisted her ankle. She had done nothing but complain about her ankle and the feelings of horror she experienced that night.

She wasn’t the only one who was afraid. Very few people returned to the pub. Most of the regulars were staying away and as far as staff, most of them were gone too.

It was weeks before Nathan and Kristen was ready to re-open and by the time they did most of their staff had either refused to come back or had found other employment in the meantime. Only Sarah and Emily had remained and despite her obvious pain and discomfort, Holly had kindly decided to lengthen her vacation and lend a helping hand until Nathan and Kristen could hire more help.

However, what was once a temporary arrangement had, it appeared, morphed into a more permanent arrangement at some point since, much to Emily’s and Sarah’s chagrin. Holly wasn’t the easiest co-worker to work with. She was often prone either to complain loudly about her cousin Kristen, telling them endless stories about all the movie stars she met while living in California, complaining about all the acting jobs she was losing out on by being in Kentucky, and disappearing for long stretches of time, not showing up at all, or engaging in strange displays of one-upmanship with Emily and Sarah. However, since she was related to the pub’s owners, there wasn’t much they could do but grin and bear it.

“She was going on and on about how she doesn’t get to wear heels anymore and—” Emily snapped her mouth shut as the aforementioned Holly breezed in.

“Oh, this night just won’t end,” Holly said, sliding into the chair next to Emily’s. She popped an hors d'oeuvre into her mouth. “I’m just exhausted.”

“How are your feet?” Emily asked sweetly.

Holly looked down at her black tennis shoes. “Okay, I guess. I wish I could have worn my heels tonight like you girls. I just hate these big ugly things.”

Emily clucked her tongue. “I don’t blame you one bit.” She gave Sarah a look. “You’re a seven, aren’t you, Holly? I’d be happy to trade shoes—”

Sarah hid a smile.

Holly made a soft sound of distress. “Ankle’s still kind of weak. My doctor said to stay off it as much as possible and heels are an absolutely a no-no. I was so upset when he told me that this morning.”

“It’s been a month since the fiasco on New Year’s Eve,” Emily said. “I would have thought your ankle would have heeled by now. Maybe you should go to another doctor.”

Holly reached over, plucking a long stemmed pink rose from the crystal vase in the middle of the table. “I like my doctor. It just takes time.” She waved the rose around as she scowled. “Although it would have probably healed by now, if Kristen didn’t insist on throwing lavish parties like this and expecting me to be on my feet all night. That New Year’s Eve party she threw almost killed me. Literally.”

Emily suppressed a shudder as she glanced out the window over the sink. “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen again.”

“I’m sure it won’t,” Sarah said placing the flutes on top of the tray. “Kristen hired extra security tonight, and besides, nothing like that has happened since. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

Holly looked stricken. “Ever since New Year’s, I’ve been a nervous wreck. I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see the glass falling around us. I feel the bullets whizzing past my head. I hear the sound of the bullets hitting the wall over my head.” She shuddered. “I tried to tell my friends back home in California what I’m going through but they just don’t get it.”

“I understand how you feel,” Sarah said sympathetically. “It must have been awful.”

“No, you don’t,” Holly insisted sharply. “You have no idea what I went through. You’re so lucky you weren’t there that night, Sarah. So lucky. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget it.”

Emily glanced at Holly out the side of her eye. “I think Sarah has some idea. She was living through her own nightmare at the same time.”

After Jamie had disappeared that night more than a month ago, Sarah philosophically decided that life had to go on and returned to work. Most everyone was so concerned over the shooting that they didn’t pay much attention to her at first, but word soon got out about the incident at her grandfather’s place. Not wanting to dwell on what happened anymore than necessary, she had supplied them with only the barest details. Glossing over the most frightening moments and just focusing on the facts. Only Emily knew the full extent of what happened that night and how Sarah felt about it.

“I passed out that night,” Emily continued, “but that was nothing compared to what happened to Sarah.”

“I don’t think we’re in competition,” Sarah said with a small chuckle.

Holly shook her head, unwilling to accept that someone’s pain could be greater than her own could. “Not the same thing. She didn’t have to dodge a hail of gunfire just before being trampled almost to death.”

Emily flashed Sarah a look before shaking her own head. She opened her mouth to argue but Sarah cut her off.

“Holly’s right, Em. It sounds like you two went through a lot, but I don’t think we have anything to worry about tonight.” She placed another flute on her tray. “Everything has been pretty calm.”

“So far,” Holly added ominously.

Sarah’s smile fell. For a moment, she thought she saw a shadow move from the wall in the darkened sunroom off the kitchen. She closed her eyes wearily, praying for strength to get through another night. It seemed to be getting harder, not easier, which was strange considering the danger was now long gone. She sighed as she gripped the edges of the tray. “We should get back out there.” She opened her eyes to find Emily staring at her with a worried expression on her face.

“How have you been, Sarah?” Emily asked. “And don’t tell me you’re fine. You’ve been saying that for weeks. You look like you haven’t slept in a month.”

Sarah snorted. “Thanks a lot.”

“I’m serious, Sarah.” Emily crossed her arms. “I’ve never seen you like this. Even after you started here last summer and you were all banged up, you were still bright and cheerful and happy.”

“It was an act,” Sarah said. “The show must go on and all that.”

“Well, it was a good act,” Emily said, “I bought it. Have you heard from Jamie yet?”

Holly, who had been examining her red nail polish looked up sharply. “Jamie? Do you mean Jamie Murphy? Why would he call you?”

Sarah glanced away from Emily and over at her reflection in the window. “He wouldn’t.” She glanced back at her friend with an irritated shake of her head. No one at work but Emily knew Jamie was there that night and she wanted to keep it that way. “But that’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?” Emily asked.

“I guess I’m just trying to figure out what I should do with my life.”

Emily didn’t look satisfied with that answer, but accepted it nevertheless. “Well, when you find that out, let me know. I could use some help there too. I’m starting to question my choice of major and I know I don’t want to do this for the rest of my life, not with people shooting at me. That was an experience.”

“I have to stay because Kristen is family,” Holly said, “but why do you stay?”

“Nathan’s easy to work for,” Emily said with a shrug. “He lets me study when business is slow and he lets me work around my class schedule. Plus, the tips are amazing. When we have customers, at least,” she amended. “I hope business picks up soon or we might have to start looking for a job whether we want to or not.”

Holly looked over at Sarah. “What about you? Why do you stay?”

“She’s hoping Jamie will return and sweep her off her feet,” Emily answered for her with a snort.

“I am not,” Sarah said, giving her friend a look before glancing back at Holly. “Same reasons as Emily, I guess.” She blinked in surprise as Holly’s frown turned into an angry scowl and then a look of pure disgust. “What’s wrong, Holly?”

“What’s wrong?” Holly pursed her lips together as if she had to think of an answer. “It’s Valentine’s Day and I’m here at my own cousin’s birthday party, working. That should tell you what’s wrong.”

Sarah looked at Holly in a mixture of amusement and confusion. “I’m . . . sorry,” she said, wondering how that was her fault. Finished with filling the champagne flutes, she moved to the kitchen counter. A box of chocolate covered strawberries lay next to an empty silver serving tray. As she set about filling the tray, her attention fell to a stack of pretty vintage looking Valentine’s Day cards lying nearby. A pair of ballerina shoes caught her attention and she paused in her work to slip the card out of the stack. Pink and yellow roses surrounded a drawing of a pretty golden haired girl in pink dancing for her handsome tuxedoed suitor. She held the card up for the others to see. “Isn’t this so pretty?” She turned the card back around so she could look at it again and sighed wistfully. “I was so hoping I could have a lovely romantic Valentine’s Day this year.” A soft smile lit up her face as her eyes lost focus. “With pink roses, champagne, chocolate covered cherries, and maybe a dance or two.”