The Ties That Bind (17 page)

"Now you know how Mafia wives probably feel."

"Thanks, Annie, you're a great comfort to me."

SHANNON HAD LEFT the front-door light on earlier when she had left for the evening, and it glowed dully through the gathering fog as she parked her Fiat. The damp chill in the air made her clutch her shawl more closely around her shoulders as she climbed the steps and slipped her key into the lock.

Garth's plan to have new locks put on her doors and windows hadn't yet been put into effect. The locksmith he'd contacted had said he wouldn't be able to handle the job until the following week. Shannon wondered if she should fight harder against the whole project just on general principle. The truth was, she thought as she stepped into her front room, she really did need new locks. The ones on the cottage were very old, and there was no telling how many previous tenants had kept keys.

She grimaced as she switched on a light and dropped her tote onto the sofa. She was beginning to get paranoid herself. Until Garth had pointed out the age of the locks she hadn't worried about them in the least.

Idly she wandered into the kitchen and thought about making herself a cup of tea. It was almost ten o'clock, but she didn't feel sleepy. She could get in a couple of hours of silk-screening before she went to bed. Shannon switched on the kettle and waited for the water to boil. Then she poured it over the tea bag and headed for the studio while she waited for the brew to steep.

She paused as she stopped in front of the studio door. She hadn't remembered closing it earlier. Then again, perhaps she had. Who remembered for certain whether a door had been closed? Shrugging, Shannon opened it and stepped inside the darkened room.

She felt something was wrong even as she groped automatically for the light switch. The soft, heavy movement to her right brought a scream to her lips as she frantically tried to back out of the room.

Her hand never reached the switch and Shannon never made good her escape from the room. There was a muffled curse and a man's arm was suddenly tightening around her throat, choking off her scream.

"Not a word," the voice grated, sounding thick and raspy behind a layer of fabric. The man was hooded. "Not one damn word, you little bitch. You hear me?"

Shannon didn't bother to respond. She was struggling desperately, her nails digging for purchase on the arm around her throat.

"Stop it," the intruder snarled as Shannon managed to land a blow with the heel of her foot. "Just stop struggling and pay attention. I'm here for the bid."

"
Ummmph
?" Shannon shoved at him, trying to claw his neck.

"The
Carstairs
bid, damn it. That's all I want. Just hand over the bid and I'll get out of here!" He swore again as she scraped her nails across the back of his hands. "I just want the bid. I know you've got your own game going, but I've got to complete my deal. My client will nail me to the wall if I don't. Hell, I'm willing to pay you for the thing. It won't be anything close to what you'd get by selling it yourself, but at least it will be something. Be reasonable."

"Reasonable!" Shannon managed to choke out the words. "Are you out of your head?"

"Look, you had some bad luck. Your deal isn't going to go through. It's tough, I know. But I haven't got any extra sympathy to spare, understand? I've got my own problems. Now hand over the bid you lifted the night of the party. It had to be you. I knew as soon as he told me the stupid tote bag was empty that I'd put it in the wrong one. Where is it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Shannon gasped.

"The hell you don't. I want that bid package, lady, and you're going to hand it over to me."

She couldn't feel any steel against her throat and as far as Shannon could tell, her attacker wasn't holding a gun. He probably assumed that since she was only a woman, he didn't need a weapon. Or perhaps Silicon Valley spies didn't routinely carry weapons. Desperately she tried to think.

"All right," she hissed. "I'll give you what you want. Stop choking me to death."

The arm around her throat loosened somewhat and she sucked in air. "The light..."

"Forget the light. We don't need it. Now where's the bid package?"

"Closet," she got out painfully. "Other side of the room."

"Move." He dragged her across the room, feeling in the dark for the closet door handle. The door came open with a squeak. Even in the shadows it was possible to see how crowded the interior of the closet was. "Now where the hell is it?"

"I'll get it. Just let me go, will you? Believe me, I'm not going to risk my life over a stupid bid proposal."

Her assailant's hand reluctantly loosened a bit more. "No tricks."

"I don't know any. I'm just a naive little artsy-craftsy type. Haven't you figured that out yet?" Shannon's hand swept out across her worktable as she stepped away from the man who had been holding her. Her fingers touched the small knife she used for cutting her stencils and closed around it.

"Naive, my ass. You're one shrewd little cookie, baby. Ordinarily, I'd tell you just how good I think you are, but I haven't got time tonight. Get the bid!"

Shannon didn't bother to answer. Her hand whipped around, slamming the short point of the knife into the intruder's shoulder. She put every ounce of strength into it, gritting her teeth with a savagery that would have astonished her if she'd been aware of it.

The man screamed, probably as much out of surprise as pain. The blade was only about half an inch long and couldn't have gone very deep. But he was truly rattled by the unexpected assault and instinctively he leaped out of the way, slapping a hand across his wound. In the darkness he had no way of knowing if she were getting set for another stabbing blow.

But Shannon wasn't trying for another blow. She was already lunging for the box of papers tacked inside the closet door, wrenching it free before the man had realized what was happening.

"Damn you, come back here!" The rage in the intruder's voice was palpable as Shannon swept past him, clutching the box. She raced through the living room and an instant later was out the front door into the sheltering safety of the fog.

THERE WAS NO TIME to grab the car keys, no time to start the Fiat even if she'd had the keys ready in her hand. Shannon dashed around the corner of the cottage, aware that the intruder was already lunging through the front door after her.

The fog broke and swirled around her, offering concealment as well as danger. She knew her way around the surrounding terrain, but in the darkness there were countless small hazards waiting to trip the unwary.

"Wait, damn you! We can make a deal."

The shout was too close behind her. Shannon couldn't see her pursuer, but she knew he was very near. She went still as she heard the blundering approach of the man. He passed within a couple of yards, and Shannon held her breath, clutching the box of papers. A moment later he had veered off in another direction. She sensed his desperation and wondered for the first time just how important the bid proposal was. What kind of a world did Garth operate in where people attacked others for a business document?

The questions as well as the answers would have to wait. Like it or not, the proposal had been left in her keeping and Shannon had every intention of guarding it. She edged toward the bluff that overlooked the sea, trying to remember where the rocks and trees were. The last thing she needed at the moment was a collision with one of the scruffy, wind-twisted trees that dotted the area.

Shannon could hear the roiling surf as she worked her way toward the cliff edge. The crashing water was reassuring. The sound of it would cover any noise she was making. On the negative side, it also disguised the sounds of pursuit. It was impossible to tell how close the man was. It would be just her luck, Shannon thought, to run into him somewhere in this soup.

Her best bet was to get down on the beach. Chances were the intruder would have no way of guessing which way she had gone once she made her way down the short cliff.

"I'm willing to talk, lady." The raspy voice was hard to hear over the sounds of the sea. It came from the left but not from nearby. "We can split the profits. But that bid has to go to my client. I must have it."

The urgency in the man's voice was unnerving. Shannon quickened her step, nearly stumbling over a clump of tough vegetation that had dug its roots deep into the rocky soil. She held her breath again as she regained her balance, wondering frantically if her pursuer had heard her stifled gasp.

When there was no detectable pounding of footsteps, Shannon scrambled over the edge of the shallow cliff, slipping and sliding on the pebbly surface. Then, with an undignified thump, she found herself in a tangled heap at the bottom. The last few feet had not been negotiated with her usual finesse. But she still had the box in her hand as she staggered and turned immediately to the right.

The tide was coming in and as she made her way over the uneven beach. Shannon hugged the cliff wall. Occasionally her shoes got splashed by a foaming wave she couldn't even see, and she realized how easy it would be to get disoriented. But the cliff gave her a point of reference. With gathering certainty she moved toward the far end of the beach and tried not to wonder which way the intruder was taking.

Fifteen minutes and three unpleasant falls later, Shannon sensed the looming cliff at the end of the beach. The path to the top was somewhere close. Heaven knew she had used it a number of times. Through a momentary clearing in the fog she spotted the familiar tumble of rocks that marked the bottom of the path. With a sigh of relief, Shannon started making her way upward. When she emerged, she knew just where she would be and that was considerably more than her pursuer could possibly guess.

The cliff was steeper here than it was down at her end of the beach, and Shannon had to use one hand to grab for support in several slippery places. She kept the box tucked under her other arm and grimly fought her way to the top. By the time she reached her goal, she was panting from exertion and the adrenaline-enhanced fear that was still roaring through her veins. She decided she really wasn't cut out to play the game of corporate espionage.

Taking a deep breath, Shannon started walking inland from the edge of the cliff. Her destination lay a short distance away. By traveling along the curving beach, she had shortened the distance she would have had to negotiate had she taken the road. Through the fog she could see the welcome porch light of the house Annie O'Connor shared with Dan
Turcott
.

A few minutes later Shannon was pounding on the front door. Leaning against the wall, still grasping the box tightly in front of her, Shannon breathed a sigh of relief as she heard sounds of movement from within. A moment later the door was opened, and Dan
Turcott
stood frowning under the porch light. He had obviously been in bed and had taken time to pull on only a pair of jeans.

"What the hell? Shannon! For crying out loud. What are you doing here?"

"It's a short, pithy story. If you'll let me in I'll tell it to you."

"Come on inside." He reached out to catch hold of her arm and tug her over the threshold. Shannon needed no real urging. "Annie!" Dan turned his head to shout down the short hall to the bedroom. "It's Shannon. She looks like something the cat dragged in. Better get up and give me a hand."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to collapse," Shannon declared stoutly and then promptly fell into a chair. "On the other hand, maybe I am. Good grief, what a night. First yuppie
vegies
and now this. I used to lead such a quiet life."

"Shannon! What on earth happened?" Annie was knotting a robe around her pregnant stomach as she came down the hall. Concern etched her soft face as she turned on the living room lights. "Are you all right?"

"I think she needs a shot of something with a kick. I'll see if we've got any brandy left." Dan stepped into the kitchen. "What's this all about, Shannon? Do I need to call the cops?"

Shannon nodded as she leaned gratefully back into the chair cushions. "I'm afraid so. There was someone in my cottage when I got home tonight."

"Oh, my God." Annie picked up the phone. "You're not hurt?"

"Just a little skinned up from a midnight hike on the beach. I managed to get out the front door and down to the water."

Dan emerged from the kitchen and reached out to take the phone from Annie. "Here, I'll do that. See that she drinks this."

Shannon accepted the water glass that had been half-filled with brandy and quickly outlined the story for Annie as Dan made his call to the local authorities. He broke into her tale at one point with a quick question.

"Gibson says he'll be right out to have a look. Wants to know if the guy is armed."

"I don't think so, but I couldn't swear to it. I didn't see any sign of a gun or a knife. But tell Gibson that I did take a chunk out of the man's arm. His right arm, I think."

"A chunk?"

"I stabbed him with the blade I use to cut stencils. It won't have done much damage, but the wound might be useful for identification."

Dan raised his eyebrows in silent comment and then repeated the information to the man on the other end of the line. A moment later he hung up the phone. "Now I suppose I'd better call Garth."

Shannon looked at him. "I suppose so, but there's not much point in rushing the call, is there? What can he do from San Jose? He's four hours away."

"He'll want to know what's happened," Dan pointed out gently. "I get the feeling he spends a lot of time worrying about you. What's that you're holding on your lap?"

Shannon blinked and glanced down at the silk-screen-printed container she had been clutching. "Something that belongs to Garth," she said slowly. "The intruder wanted it tonight. It's the reason he broke into my cottage."

Annie came up off the sofa where she had been sitting while getting Shannon to drink the brandy. Her expression was that of an avenging angel. Imperiously she took the receiver out of Dan's hand.