The Witch of Stonecliff (9 page)

Eleri rushed to the desk and popped open the computer. A request for a password lit the screen.

“Hell,” she muttered, quickly typing a few guesses—mostly variations of his name and the word ‘password’ itself—but none of them worked.

She lifted her gaze to the map of Anglesey. Black marker circled Cragera Bay, and more than a dozen multi-colored pushpins dotted the map. Some marked the village, a few farther out on the island, while others dotted the mainland along the coast.

“What are you looking for?” she whispered.

She lifted a manila file folder, revealing the lined notepad beneath and frowned. Kyle had written a timeline with names and places at each hour.

7:30 am – Inn, breakfast, Eleanor Leonard—unofficial see notes.

Mrs. Leonard ran the nearby inn and had for as long as Eleri could remember. First with her husband then, after he passed away, with her son and daughter-in-law. There were more dates, locations and names. Some she recognized, some she didn’t.

She opened the folder and found a stack of newspaper clippings inside. The headline—
The Witch of Stonecliff’s Reign of Terror Continues
—caught her like a slap. She knew it! The moment she’d set eyes on Kyle she’d known there’d been something off about him. How could she have been so stupid? He’d been playing her from the start.

She rifled through the articles all written by the same man—Jamison Peirs. Anger pulsed behind her forehead. The man must have printed every drunken tale he’d ever heard in the pub.

Her gaze caught on the small black-and-white photo next to the byline and her eyes widened.

“No,” she muttered, squinting to better make out the man’s features in the photo. Her stomach sank like a stone. Jamison Peirs and Kyle Peirs were the same bloody person. His hair was shorter in the picture, stylish, his features not as bony as they were now. He smirked out at her looking cocky, arrogant.

“I wasn’t expecting you so early, Eleri.”

She jumped at the sound of Kyle’s voice. Jamison. Whatever the hell his name was, he leaned against the door frame, hands jammed in his pockets. A smirk not unlike the one in the photo twisted his mouth, but his eyes were hard.

“I suppose not,
Jamison
.” She tossed the folder at him, but he made no effort to catch it. Clippings fluttered to floor at his feet.

“No one calls me that anymore.”

“Whatever your name is, pack your things.” Her voice trembled with all the rage bubbling inside her—from the years of living down the damage his stories had done, his deceit in letting the property, but mostly her own humiliating reaction to his attentions. “I want you out of here within the hour.”

“I don’t think so.” The rasp in his low voice, which had been strangely sexy last night, sounded menacing now. “I’ve a signed lease. I’ve paid for three months. I’m not going anywhere.”

He stepped into the room, closed the door and leaned back on it. Panic fluttered at her throat, but she clamped down on the sensation.

“You lied. Misrepresented yourself, using a false name.”

“Sue me.” He shrugged. “Besides, my name is Kyle. Jamison is my middle name. I used it for my byline.”

“I don’t care. I. Want. You. Gone.” “Like you did before?” Something in his tone, an icy anger humming beneath the surface gave her pause. What was he so angry about?
He’d
made a fool out of
her
, not the other way around.

“Do you mean when you were here last month? You forgot your coat, by the way.” She shrugged out of the heavy suede and tossed it at him.

He snatched the jacket out of the air and slung it over his shoulder. “Realized that was me, did you? How’d you manage that?”

Admit she’d recognized his scent like some lovesick teenager? Not likely. “You’re not half as bloody clever as you think you are.”

“Believe me, I don’t feel terribly clever these days.” Some of the antagonism left his rough voice, leaving him sounding weary. “But I wasn’t referring to when I saved you from freezing to death. I was talking about when I came here to write about Daniel Forbes’ disappearance two years ago.”

“Were you writing about Daniel Forbes? I didn’t realize since the bulk of those articles featured me. But perhaps Mr. Forbes disappearing was simply too dull. After all, you had so many interesting stories about yours truly. Incidentally, I can’t decide which was my favorite. The one where I was stealing men’s souls by drinking their blood or that I kept men chained in my basement for my perverse pleasure.”

At least he had the good grace to drop his gaze. “I stated in the articles that the claims were unsubstantiated.”

“Well, that sorts it all, then, doesn’t it?” she snapped, furiously. “The fact that people saw those stories in print was enough for them to believe they were true,
substantiated
or not.”

“And what would you have done to see that I stopped writing about you?” He lifted his gaze. Whatever contrition she thought she’d seen was gone. He pushed away from the door, taking a step toward her. She stepped back. “Make me disappear like the others?”

Unease scurried up her spine like a frigid centipede. He was trying to trap her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I don’t care. I want you out by the end of the day. “

She darted for the door, gripped the knob and pulled. Kyle’s lean frame pressed against her back, his forearm pushed on the door over her head, ripping the cool brass from her fingers. The oak slammed closed.

Her heart jumped into her throat and her legs turned rubbery. She’d been here before. Slowly, she turned to face him. His hard body hovered inches from hers. The arm over her head held the door closed, caging her.

“Was it you, Eleri?” he asked, his voice quiet but sharp-edged, cutting through what little nerve she had left.

“Get away from me,” she ground out, shoving against his chest. Muscle bunched beneath her palms, but he barely budged. He was much more solid than his lean frame appeared. She shoved again, trying to twist away from him. He grasped her wrists like twin vices and dragged her arms to her sides.

Fear sliced through her. She fought to yank free of his grip. “Let me go!”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He worked her hands behind her and pressed his length against hers, so her arms were pinned between her back and the door. “And neither are you until we’re done.”

She couldn’t move. With her arms caught behind her, she had no way to defend herself. He pressed so tightly against her, she couldn’t even knee or kick him. Fear squeezed her lungs, cut off her breath. Her stomach churned, hot nausea bubbling up her throat

“Please,” she squeaked, hating the pleading in her tone.

“I need to ask you some questions, Eleri. Tell me what I want to know and I’ll let you go.”

She couldn’t speak. She could barely nod.

“I’m sorry it’s come to this so quickly. I’d hoped we could have got to know each other a little better before having this particular conversation.”

What the hell was he talking about? She didn’t know, didn’t care. Escape was the only thing that mattered. She tried to wriggle her hands out from behind her back, but he shoved harder against her, thrusting the air from her lungs in a short gasp. He grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to meet his hard glare.

Gone was the man from last night, the man who’d put himself between her and Stephen Paskin. The pale green eyes holding her gaze were cold and empty, his expression stony.

“Stop fighting. You’re not going to win.”

She tried to swallow, but her throat had shrivelled. Fear locked her breath in her chest. He watched her for a long moment, then shook his head and lifted his gaze to the ceiling. “If this isn’t irony…”

He released her chin and eased back from her. She drew a deep, shuddery breath.

“You didn’t want me here, did you?”

“Printing ridiculous lies about me? No, I didn’t.” What had he expected her to say? She didn’t want him here now, either.

“Did you find me at the pub?” The soft menace in his voice prickled her skin. “Did you drug me, Eleri? Or had I had too many, and you were able to take advantage?”

“You’re out of your bloody mind. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” His brows lifted in mock surprise. “Did you bring me to The Devil’s Eye, or were you there waiting so you could do this?”

He yanked one of her hands from behind her back. A gasp entirely too close to a sob burst from her lips. She tried to tug free of his grasp, but he was stronger and darkly furious. He forced her fingertips to the ridge of hot flesh along his throat.

Comprehension sank into her overwrought brain like the first drops of rain on desert earth. He believed she tried to kill him.

She shook her head.

“You didn’t drag the blade across my throat?” He forced her fingertips along the scar.

Hot moisture stung her eyes. “No!”

“Maybe not,” he conceded with a shrug. “But I’ll tell the police you did.”

Her stomach bottomed out.

“Twelve bodies and a witness, you’ll be behind bars within the hour.”

“But…but…I didn’t. It wasn’t me. It’s not true.”

“Don’t sound so shocked.” His smile was cold and feral. “You said it yourself, I’m a liar.”

“I didn’t do it, I swear.” Tearful pleading laced her voice, and at any other time she would have cringed at the sound. But right then, she just wanted all this to end.

“I’m inclined to believe you, Eleri. But you threatening to go public with my previous identity has put me in a tight spot. I need to stay in the village. I need to find whoever did this to me.”

Anger rolled over her, burning away some of her fear. “I fail to see how lying about my part in whatever happened to you helps in that regard.”

“It doesn’t, admittedly. But if you go telling everyone who I am, I’m out on my ass regardless. I need you to keep your mouth shut.”

“Fine, you win.” The words tasted bitter on her tongue, but she would have sold her soul to him to keep him from going to the detective.

“I know.” He eased away from her, letting her free her other hand from behind her back. “I do appreciate your cooperation in the matter.”

Emotion warred inside her. A part of her wanted to burst into tears while another part wanted to smash his face in. She turned away quickly and grasped the doorknob before she gave into either urge.

She almost hoped whoever tried to kill him the first time managed to get their hands on him again.

She froze with the door open, escape a single step away. Instead, she turned slowly.

Kyle leaned against the edge of the desk, arms folded across his chest, exhaustion etched into his face. “Something else?”

“If I managed to figure out who you really are—and I had no interaction with you when you were here last—aren’t you concerned whoever did that will recognize you?”

Kyle shrugged. “You wouldn’t have made the connection without drawing a comparison to my photo.”

“True, but I hadn’t seen you up close. I would imagine who ever cut your throat got a pretty good look at you.”

He snorted. “Better than you know.”

“Aren’t you concerned whoever did this will remember you whether you’re using a false name or not, Jamison?”

“Kyle
is
my name.”

“What will happen if you’re recognized and someone decides to finish what they’ve started?”

“Worried?”

The faint mocking in his tone scraped her last nerve. “Absolutely. If you vanish, it’s me who’ll go down for it.”

“True.” He chuckled, humorlessly. “But—and I imagine this news won’t please you—I’m fairly certain I’ve been recognized already.”

Renewed fear washed over her. “How…how do you know?”

He straightened and turned to the desk, pulled open the drawer and tossed a dirty shank of rope onto the desk. “Recognize this?”

She shook her head. “What is it?”

“I can’t be sure, mind you, but I suspect this is rope I slipped free from the night this happened.” He gestured to his scarred throat.

She dropped her gaze to the rope again. Brown rust stiffened the fibers. Paint, maybe or—her heart lurched—blood.

Eleri looked up into Kyle’s pale green eyes boring into her. “Why would I recognize this?” She nodded at the hunk of rope. “You said you believed me.”

Kyle sighed. “I said I was
inclined
to believe you, not that I did.”

Wonderful. “Why are you
inclined
, but not certain?”

“You’re too small to have moved me alone, but there was more than one person at The Devil’s Eye that night.”

Her eyes widened. A thin sliver of hope punctured all that anger and fear. “You remember what happened?”

“Some. Not enough.”

Still, if he remembered
something
maybe more would come. She’d been looking for someone like him for so long. Someone who had survived Cragera Bay. Someone who could say she had nothing to with those murdered men.

“If you are telling me the truth, Eleri, you and I are on the same side.”

Chapter Seven

Kyle flopped into the desk chair, watching a range of emotion flit across Eleri’s delicate features. If she were the cold-blooded serial killer people claimed, he had no idea how she’d managed to be so successful. Not when her every thought and feeling flashed across her face for everyone to read. Especially fear.

When he’d had her pinned to the door, he’d seen it naked and raw in her pale skin and glassy eyes, heard it in her pleading voice, felt it in her trembling body. The irony that he could terrorize this alleged stone-cold killer had not been lost on him. He might have laughed had he not been sick to his stomach.

Some distant part of him had wanted to step back, to reassure her, comfort her. Instead, he’d taken that fear and used it, manipulated with it until he got his way.

Maybe old Jack Peirs wasn’t completely gone after all.

Exhaustion rolled through him like a wave. He tossed the rope back into the desk drawer. His conversation with Eleri had dragged all those memories from dark corners of his mind, so he saw them in crystal clear Technicolor. He was shaken, raw and so bloody tired, but he needed answers. While he’d hoped to charm Eleri into trusting him, maybe laying his cards on the table would get him what he wanted without all the games.