Authors: Cate Beauman
She wanted to be alone. “Go ahead and catch up.” She schooled her voice to keep the desperation at bay. “There’s no point in you coming back to watch me sleep.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She tried her best to smile as she squeezed her hands against her arms, ready for him to leave her be. “Go see your friend.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
“Light on or off?”
“Off.” She waited for him to flip the switch and shut the door most of the way then whipped up the window, breathing in the frigid air, gasping, closing her eyes against the refreshing whips of wind. Traffic rushed by far below as pedestrians hurried to their destinations. Buildings towered in every direction, and she wanted to be gone, terrified that a night of decent shut-eye wouldn’t solve her need to flee. Eight hours of sleep couldn’t erase her craving for the familiar surroundings of their condo or the quiet of the farm.
Another gust rushed along her face and arms, chilling her already cool skin. Shivering, taking as much as she could, she shut herself back in the cramped space and crawled to the center of the bed. Wrapping her arms tight around her legs, she rested her forehead against her knees, shutting her eyes, letting the terror wash through her. She was sick of fighting the dread that had consumed her since Jerrod told her they had to leave Nebraska early this morning. Dr. Tate said it was often better to experience the panic, live through it, and move on. She was ready to move on.
Her breath shuddered in and out as her arms shook and her legs trembled. Tears coursed down her cheeks as she purged herself of the fear. She was safe here with Jerrod’s friends. His former co-workers were no different than the guys he worked with at Ethan Cooke Security, except they were Federal Agents instead of Bodyguards. Adam and Shane weren’t the problem; the real issue stemmed from her phobias and inability to trust. She no longer knew if she disliked most men because there was an actual reason or if she just assumed there was.
Lifting her head, she listened to the strange voice down the hall mixing with Jerrod’s as they laughed, clearly comfortable in each other’s presence. She gripped herself tighter, looking out the window, imagining snow-covered fields and the comforting low of cows, stiffening when footsteps started down the hall. Her heart flew to her throat as a shadow blocked the hall light shinning into the room. The door opened slowly with an ominous creak, and she whirled off the bed, rushing to the corner, fighting to bring air in and out of her lungs as Jerrod stepped in.
“Abigail?”
She collapsed against the wall as her knees buckled, her relief huge.
He flipped on the light. “Abby, what are you doing?”
She fought to stand upright on jellied legs as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. What
was
she doing? Why was she behaving this way? How could she tell him that she hated being in this place, in this city? How could she tell him that she wanted to run away? “I don’t—I don’t know.”
He closed himself in the room and skirted around the bed. “It’s okay.” He wrapped her up in a hug. “It’s okay,” he murmured against her hair.
She hugged him back, even though it wasn’t okay. Being in New York and in this apartment was definitely not all right.
“Come lay down with me.”
“I’ll be fine in a minute.” She sniffled, easing out of his embrace. “Really. I’m just having a hard time settling in.”
“Come lay down with me,” he said again as he pulled back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. “Let’s get comfortable.” He tugged at her snap and unzipped her jeans, easing snug denim down her legs. “Snuggle up with me.”
“Okay.” She toed off her sneakers and slid her pants off the rest of the way, then crawled in next to him, hating that she relied on Jerrod to help her feel better.
He wrapped his arms around her and tossed his leg over her hips, cocooning her from the world. “Abigail,” he murmured against her neck. “Do you want to go?”
She shook her head, sliding her hands along his back, more relaxed as they held each other close. “We don’t need to do that. I need to be able to function in new places with new people. This is an opportunity to show myself that I can.”
He adjusted his head on the pillow, staring into her eyes, sliding the hair back from her forehead. “You did fine in Nebraska.”
The farm had been as much home as Los Angeles. She shrugged. “I guess this is just different.”
“If you change your mind all you have to do is say the word and we’ll figure something else out.”
She wouldn’t have that option if they moved to a safe house. She needed to take this change in their plans as an opportunity to grow. “I don’t need to.”
He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers.
She clung, absorbing the tenderness he offered, and smiled, kissing his chin, then his cheek. “You can visit with Adam. I’m okay now. Promise.” And if that wasn’t quite true, it damn well would be.
“In a few minutes.” He pulled her closer. “I’m not ready to let you go.”
“I can handle that.” She closed her eyes, warm, content, safe, and drifted off to sleep in his arms.
Shelby glanced over her shoulder as she unlocked her
front door and stepped inside.
Finally
she was home. She set her purse and cell phone on the arm of the couch and flipped on the living room light, letting loose a huge sigh of relief. She’d spent two
days
trying to slip away from Timmy’s cool, watchful eye, biding her time, waiting for him to step into the restroom and Mary to head to bed. As soon as Timmy shut the bathroom door and Mary wandered to the small guest bedroom, she tiptoed out the back door and booked it to her car.
Now that she was here she could take a bath and change her clothes. She’d been in her pajamas since she rushed out to the Quinn farm early yesterday morning. Timmy’s insistence that she stay with him and his one-hundred-and-one precautions were ridiculous. She was
not
about to spend another night on his lumpy couch while he slept on the recliner next to her. Jerrod had infected everyone with his paranoia, totally screwing everything up—not that anything had gone as planned. They’d waited for something bad to happen since sunrise yesterday, which it didn’t. Of course it didn’t. This was Parker freaking Nebraska.
Nothing
happened here.
She rolled her eyes, slipping off her sweatshirt on the way to the bedroom. That’s why she was leaving. Toni Torrell and
The Times
had come through with their job offer, but the excitement of finally getting out of this tiny town was strangely absent. And the dredges of guilt that stirred in her conscience for writing the article in the first place took her completely by surprise. She’d done her job. The residents of Parker had a right to know that Abigail Harris, Lily Brand’s next big thing, had walked among the community.
She turned into her room, switching on the lamp as she kicked off her sneakers and pulled off her pants, pausing as she stared at herself in the mirror. Maybe the murmurs she’d heard about poor, sweet Abby had twisted her stomach some. Perhaps the fact that Mary was pissed and Jerrod drove off in a huff didn’t exactly sit well. And no matter how she’d tried to charm her way out of trouble with Timmy, he hadn’t taken the bait. She frowned. Why did Timmy’s curt words and disappointing stares bug her the most? Why the hell did she care what Jerrod’s baby brother thought one way or the other? She didn’t, absolutely didn’t.
Shaking off her sudden attack of guilt, she moved toward the master bath, reaching for the light when her cell phone rang in the living room. She ignored it, hoping Timmy would get the hint. She stepped in the pretty space, catching a movement out of the corner of her eye as a huge, rough hand covered her mouth, slamming her back against a solid chest. Her eyes went huge as she gasped, trying to scream.
“Stay quiet,” a deep voice hissed in a thick Russian accent next to her ear.
Her breath heaved in and out with the surge of adrenaline flooding her body. She automatically kicked her leg back and tried to bite at his palm.
“Stop!” The stranger whirled her around, shoving her toward the bed, the power of his push knocking her to the floor.
“Help!” She scrambled up in her bra and panties, trying to find a way around the muscled hulk advancing her way. “Help me!”
“I said shut
up
!”
She opened her mouth to scream again despite his demands and took a fist to the cheek. She groaned, seeing stars as the painful blow knocked her back to the bed.
“Perhaps now you will listen.” He crawled on top of her, leaning close, breathing stale, smoky breath in her face. “When I say shut
up
, you will shut up.”
She pressed her hand to the terrible, radiating ache, trembling, staring at the jagged scar along his right cheekbone, trying to think over the fear.
“Where is she?” He glared at her through mean brown eyes.
“Who?”
“Don’t be stupid.” He cracked her across her injured cheek and squeezed her jaw. “Abigail. Where is Abigail Harris?”
She whimpered, afraid he would break her bones as Jerrod’s angry voice echoed through her head.
You have no idea what you’ve done, Shelby. No fucking idea.
She understood now, perfectly, as the man gripped her harder. “She left. She left town yesterday morning.”
“Where did she go?”
“I don’t know.”
He slapped her again, yanking at her hair, bringing her face close to his. “Don’t play these games with me.”
“I don’t
know
,” she sobbed. “They left in a hurry.”
“They?” He loosened his grip. “Who’s they?”
“Abigail and some guy.”
He narrowed his evil eyes. “What’s his name?”
“I’m not sure.”
He shook his head and took her hand, wrenching her fingers back until bones popped.
She screamed in agony, afraid she might pass out.
“Who is the man?”
“Jerrod,” she whispered, cradling broken, dislocated fingers on her chest.
“Jerrod who?”
“I don’t know his last name.”
He muttered something in Russian, landing a blow to her temple, then her eye. “You are making this painful for yourself, stupid cunt. Tell me what you know, or the punishment will get worse.”
“I think—I think it’s Quinn.” She squirmed under his heavy body, wanting to escape from his brutality, but it was no use. He was too big and strong.
“You think or you know?” He bunched his fist, threatening.
“I know.” Her cell phone rang again in the next room, and she prayed Timmy would come.
“What else do you know?”
“That the person calling my phone is a cop, and he’ll be here soon if I don’t answer.”
He smiled, his grin ferocious. “Hopefully he will think you are worth dying for.”
A new wave of dread consumed her as she thought of what this monster might do to Timmy. “No.”
“I want information, and you have it. Now tell me where she
is
.”
“I really don’t know. Jerrod took her away.”
“He said nothing?”
“No, he was mad at me for writing the article.”
He grabbed her hair in both hands, hollering something she didn’t understand as he rammed her head against the mattress over and over again. “Who is Jerrod Quinn?”
“He’s a bodyguard,” she confessed, crying, wanting this man to go away before Timmy came. Jerrod was long gone. She needed to protect Timmy.
He stopped, his breath heaving. “Where would he go?”
“I don’t know Jerrod very well anymore. Maybe back to Los Angeles or New York City. He was a US Marshal there.”
Another slow smile bloomed across his face. “It is a small, small world, Shelby Haggerty.”
Her cell phone rang for the third time. Taking a chance, she brought her knee up as hard as she could, tagging her captive in the balls.
He crumpled forward, and she scrambled out from under him, sprinting toward the phone. She pressed ‘talk’ with her uninjured hand as the monster came running down the hall.
“Help me, Timmy! Help me!”
The stranger whirled her around, knocking her to the floor. She struggled to deflect his punches, tasting blood, feeling her skin swell with each agonizing blow. He hit her again and again until the world faded to a hazy gray, then went black.
~~~~
Adam smacked at his alarm, attempting to silence the ringing, and groaned, realizing his cell phone was making the incessant noise, not the damn clock. “Fuck,” he muttered as he reluctantly reached for his phone, wondering what Donnelly wanted at four-fucking-thirty in the morning. He was
supposed
to be off duty until noon. “Yeah, hello?”
“I need information.”
Adam’s eyes flew open as he sat up, recognizing the dreaded Russian accent. “You’re not supposed to call this number—ever.”
“My situation doesn’t give me much choice. It has taken me two days of dodging the police to find this phone to use.”
He threw his covers back and got out of bed, pacing the small space in his room, regretting that he’d been desperate enough to make a deal with the devil. “What do you want?” But he already knew.
“Jerrod Quinn. He protects Abigail Harris.”
Sweat beaded on his forehead as he glanced toward the bedroom door left ajar down the hall. “How do you know?”
“The reporter told me before I killed her. Find me Jerrod Quinn.”
He swallowed, lowering his voice as he heard Jerrod’s murmurs mixing with Abby’s. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“You’ll do better than that. I want the information today. I need to find that
bitch
before she ruins me.”
He brought the hem of his t-shirt up to his face, wiping at the drops running down his temples. “It might take a day or two.”
“A day would not be good for your sister’s health. Two days would be deadly. Her baby is due very soon, yes?”
Dread iced his veins as he collapsed to the edge of his mattress, certain he was going to puke. If Dimitri touched Samantha… He sent trembling fingers through his hair as he struggled to even out his breathing. He never should have gone to that casino. Why the
fuck
did he sit his ass down at the Black Jack table? He knew better. Standing, he walked to the wall, leaning against the cold, white paint as his mind raced. He needed to end this. “I know Jerrod. I know where he is.” He clenched his fist at his side.
“You know him?”
He grit his teeth, disgusted with himself. “Yes.”
“This better be the truth. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you your sister will die with pain if it is not.”
“He’s here in Manhattan. He came after the article broke in the Nebraska paper a couple days ago.”
“Where?”
“I’m not exactly sure, but he calls every day asking for updates on your whereabouts.”
Dimitri laughed. “The hunted hunts, I see.” He chuckled again. “I am in Chicago. I will come as soon as I can. Find him quickly.” The line went dead.
Adam stared at his phone, his breath rushing in and out, fighting not to throw it as he dropped to his knees with the crushing weight of despair. What the hell had he done? Would it really come down to Samantha’s life for Jerrod and Abby’s? Jerrod was as much family as Samantha. This wasn’t supposed to have gotten so out of hand.
Gaining his feet, he dialed Samantha’s number as he got dressed.
“Hello?” His sister’s sleepy voice filled his ear.
“Sammy, it’s Adam. You and Greg need to pack a few things and head out of town for awhile.” He wiped at the tears on his cheeks.
“What?”
“We’ve had a case go sour. People know who you are. You need to go right now. Don’t use your credit cards, just cash.”
“Adam.”
He squeezed his eyes shut as fear trembled in Sammy’s voice. “Please.
Please
, Sammy. This is dangerous shit.”
“Okay. How long?”
As long as it would take for him to send a bullet through Dimitri’s brain. “I don’t know. A few days.”
“Okay.”
“Hurry and go.”
“I will.”
“I’ve gotta go.” He wiped at his cheeks for the second time.
“Be careful.”
“I will. You too.” He hung up and walked down the hall, stopping next to Gavin’s old room, peeking in as Jerrod wrapped a blanket around Abby’s shoulders while she stood by the open window in her underwear. He rested his forehead against the doorframe, hating himself for putting one of his best friends—and the woman he clearly loved—on the line just because he couldn’t kick his need to gamble.
Stepping back, he walked to the front door, desperate to walk and
think
. He would fix this. He had to make all of this go away before anything happened to anyone except for the bastard who deserved it. His stomach pitched for the second time. He was desperately afraid he might not be able to take Dimitri down.
~~~~
Abby shot up, gasping, searching frantically for Margret as her friend’s wrenching cries echoed in the dark. She closed her eyes, opening them just as quickly, desperate to shake herself loose of the horrifying grips of her latest nightmare. Pressing a hand to her racing heart, she stumbled out of bed on weakened legs, making her way to the window, yanking it open, greedily breathing in the bracing air.
“Abby.” The mattress squeaked as Jerrod stood, walking up behind her, wrapping a blanket around her trembling shoulders. “You’re okay,” he whispered.
“No, I’m not,” she struggled to say over chattering teeth. “I’m not.” She’d woken countless times over the last two nights, sweaty and terrified. Despite her own pep talks and efforts to settle in, she hadn’t been able to shake the need to run away. “I don’t know why this is happening. I can’t figure it out.” She shook her head, swiping her hair back from her sweaty brow, certain a nervous breakdown was right around the corner.
She’d fought to cope for the last forty-eight hours, but the strategies Dr. Tate taught her were little defense against the constant flashbacks. “I can’t stop thinking about Margret. She’s in every dream, calling for me.” She wiped at the hot tears streaming down her chilled cheeks. “I keep waking up thinking I’m in that damn closet.”
He turned her to him, hugging her tight. “Maybe our room is too small.”
“I don’t know.” She pulled away from him, needing her space, wanting more fresh air.
“I’ll get you a glass of water.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
Jerrod closed the door most of the way as he stepped out, and she sat on the bed, pressing her hands to her face, giving into her despair. If she couldn’t get a grip she would be little more than the pathetic mess Alexa found at Zachary Hartwell’s home months ago. Heck, she was pretty much there already. Eating had become a dreaded chore; sleeping wasn’t any better. And she had no clue
why
.
Adam was loud but kind. Shane was a bit more reserved but had been nothing but sweet and welcoming since his return last night. Neither of Jerrod’s friends wanted to hurt her, yet she couldn’t relax her guard. She’d tried distracting her busy brain with movies and sketches to replace the designs she could no longer use—thanks to Shelby, but the need to look over her shoulder was constantly there.
The door opened, and she stiffened, preparing herself for…
what
? What was it about this place that made her so darn jumpy?