A familiar tune sounded in the distance. But Hunter didn’t want to listen to music. Actually, he didn’t want to hear anything. The silent darkness that enveloped him was soothing.
Except for the pain, an annoying throb in his shoulder. If he could just sink further into the darkness...
He reached for the spare pillow to throw it over his face. Searing pain shot through his left shoulder, bringing him fully awake. Memories of the prior night rushed back to him. Bringing Meagan home. Getting shot. With an arrow, of all things. It had grazed his left arm, its metal tip slicing a jagged path across his deltoid, laying the flesh wide-open.
He swiped his right hand down his face, trying to brush the sleep from his eyes. It had been a rough night. He had tried to remain on his back, but he was a side sleeper, alternating between his left and right throughout the night. More times than he could count, he had stopped midroll as pain jarred him awake.
The music sounded again. Now fully conscious, he recognized it instantly. Who was calling at that early hour? He turned on his good side and reached for the phone, his eyes falling on the window as he did. Light filtered in between the slats in the miniblinds. Bright light. Maybe it wasn’t so early, after all.
He mumbled a tired “hello” into the phone.
Darci’s cheery voice greeted him.
“What time is it?” He squinted at the alarm clock next to his bed. Nine-fourteen. That couldn’t be right.
“It’s a quarter after nine. Are you all right? Meagan told me what happened.”
“Yeah, I’m okay. They cleaned everything up and sewed me back together. But I’m going to be in a sling for a while.”
“Meagan’s leaving.”
“What?” If there was any grogginess still lingering in his brain, it was gone now. “What do you mean, she’s leaving?”
“She stopped by the store to tell me goodbye.”
An odd sadness pricked his heart. She hadn’t bothered to tell him goodbye.
But why should she? They didn’t have any kind of special relationship. Not even a real friendship. All his dealings with her were as a cop protecting a citizen. Nothing more than that. On either side.
Besides, she had a good reason for avoiding him. She had made him a promise. And now she was breaking it.
“Where is she going?”
“I don’t know. Actually, she doesn’t know. She was headed to the bus station in Chiefland and is going to pick a place and buy a ticket when she gets there.”
“How is she getting to Chiefland?”
“She called a cab.”
He struggled to a sitting position. Meagan was on her way out of Cedar Key, out of their lives. Relationship or not, he wasn’t ready to let her go.
She needed him. She needed all of them. She was lost and alone. And Edmund was closing in. She didn’t stand a chance if she left their protection. Edmund would get to her in no time.
If he hadn’t already.
Hunter put Darci on speakerphone and laid down the phone to struggle into some shorts. “How long ago did she leave?”
“Maybe fifteen minutes. I tried calling you two other times.”
Two times? He must have been dead to the world. It was probably the combination of the pain medication and the fact that he didn’t get home until 3:00 a.m. And the six hours that he did spend in bed, he was either in a tense state of alertness, consciously trying to stay on his back, or falling into a deep enough sleep to roll onto his left side, which had jarred him awake.
He pulled out a T-shirt, then put it back in the drawer in favor of something he could don without lifting his left arm, another button-up shirt.
“Are you still there?” Darci’s words cut into his thoughts, reminding him how long it had been since he had spoken.
“I’m here. But I’m going after her.”
“I thought you might.”
There was a smile in Darci’s tone, almost an I knew it or an I told you so. He knew exactly what she was thinking. Darci was a hopeless romantic. At least where everyone else was concerned. She herself avoided relationships like the plague. In that way, she was a bit of a hypocrite.
Well, she could cling to whatever fantasies she wanted to have. Regardless of the attraction that sparked between him and Meagan, he wasn’t in the market for love. And neither was Meagan. She had too many issues. In fact, she had complicated written all over her. And he didn’t do complicated.
He ended the call and pulled out a pair of shoes that didn’t involve laces. When he had finished wrestling with the last of his shirt buttons, he resecured the sling and dashed out the door. His friend Blake had ventured out in the middle of the night to bring him home. But this trip he would make by himself.
As he left Cedar Key and headed up the highway, he kept his eyes peeled for a cab. He probably wouldn’t overtake her on 24. She’d had too much of a head start. Maybe 345.
He didn’t overtake her there, either. But as he drove into the Greyhound bus station, a taxi was pulling out. He chose a parking space near the door and hurried inside. Meagan stood at the ticket counter, counting out bills. He charged up beside her and held up a hand. “Stop the sale.”
The customer service representative raised her brows and looked to Meagan for instruction.
Meagan spun toward him, eyes flashing. “You don’t control my life.” She shifted her gaze back to the Greyhound employee. “Continue, please. I’m buying the ticket.”
Hunter mentally took a step back. He would have to treat her gently. At his initial show of force, her defenses had gone up and her claws had come out. She had a definite stubborn streak. “Meagan, wait.”
“Don’t try to talk me out of it. My mind is made up.”
“Come on, Meagan. I don’t want you to be alone.” He heaved a sigh. “Let me take you home. At least come outside with me where we can talk.”
Indecision flashed across her features, and her hand tightened around the stack of bills still on the counter. He sought the words to convince her to stay, without broadcasting her situation to everyone in the station. But before he could voice them, the Greyhound rep reached across the counter and patted her hand.
“Go on, sweetie, try to fix things with your man. If it doesn’t work out, you can come back. We’ll be here.”
Color crept up Meagan’s cheeks. “He’s not my—”
The rep continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “In the meantime, I don’t think you’ll have any problem holding your own.” Her eyes went to his sling, and a knowing smile curved her lips. “It looks like he got the short end of the stick on this one.”
Meagan’s face registered confusion. Then understanding dawned, and her eyes widened. “No, that’s not— I mean, I didn’t— That was—”
Hunter put his arm around her shoulders and led her away from the counter.
Once outside, she turned to face him. “She thought you and I were...” Her words trailed off.
“A couple.” He finished the thought for her. “And that we had a lover’s spat, and you beat me up.”
“That’s ridiculous.” The corners of her mouth quivered, as if she was trying to stifle a smile. It broke through, anyway, followed by a nervous giggle, then full-blown laughter.
He started laughing, too, just because she was, and because seeing her laugh brought him unexpected joy.
She put a hand over her mouth and snorted, which was somehow cute instead of unsophisticated. It only made her laugh harder. And he recognized the laughter for what it was—a much-needed release of months of pent-up emotion. All the hurt and fear and anger came rushing out, purged through the healing act of laughter.
Finally, it subsided, and she wiped tears from her face. “That felt good. That’s the first time I’ve laughed in months.”
“Laughter does good, like a medicine.”
She smiled up at him. “Is that a wise old proverb?”
“Yeah, it’s in the Bible. Actually it says ‘a merry heart,’ but same difference.”
“I can see that.”
“There’s a lot of wisdom in the Good Book.”
“So I’ve heard.” She looked down and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. When she once again met his gaze, her eyes held sadness. “I can’t go back with you.”
His heart fell. “If you leave, he’ll still find you. From what you’ve told me, he doesn’t seem like the type to give up.”
Hunter had checked out her story, and everything she had said was true. There was just one thing she hadn’t told him—that she looked so much like Edmund’s ex-fiancée it was eerie.
“This wasn’t Edmund. Edmund is still a very real threat, always will be. But if Edmund had shot that arrow, he wouldn’t have missed. There are at least two people who want me dead. And I’m not putting anyone else in danger. You could have been killed last night.”
“But I wasn’t. All I got was a flesh wound.”
She frowned. “You can’t tell me that. I was there. I saw the blood.”
“Okay, it was a little deeper than a flesh wound. But it’ll heal.”
“As long as I stay, no one is safe. Not you, not Darci, and not anyone else I get close to. Whether it’s Edmund or someone else who has targeted me, it’s my problem. If anything happened to any of you guys, I’d never forgive myself.”
And he would never forgive himself if she became a statistic—another sad story of a life snuffed out by a jealous ex-boyfriend. His chest tightened.
“Your staying in Cedar Key is the only chance we have of catching whoever is doing this. If you leave, you’ll spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder, living in fear. Stay here, and you’ll eventually be free. Freedom, Meagan. Think of what that would feel like.”
She drew in a shaky breath and closed her eyes. But not before he saw the battle going on there—the appeal of her own safety warring with the desire to protect her friends.
He forged ahead, seizing the opportunity while she was wavering. “Give us a chance. It’s only been a little over two weeks since the note was left at Darci’s. Let me catch this guy.” He rested his hands on her shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “I’m asking you to trust me.”
She finally opened her eyes. “All right. But I want security stepped up while I’m at the store. I don’t want anyone to be able to get near me as long as Darci is around.”
“We can do that.” Actually, he wanted security stepped up around her house, too. A few inches either direction last night and one or the other of them could have been dead.
He walked her to the truck, and as he got into the driver’s seat, his gaze fell on the door of the station. The clerk at the counter was watching them through the glass.
He nodded toward the building. “I think she’s happy we’re working it out.”
Meagan rolled her eyes.
He pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the highway.
Meagan looked over at him. “By the way, I told Darci.”
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
“What did she say?”
“Well, she didn’t say whether I still had my job, because at that time it was a moot point. I was leaving.”
“I’m guessing you still have your job.”
He turned onto Highway 345, and within moments was stuck behind a truck and flatbed trailer loaded with construction supplies. He slowed and waited for an opportunity to pass.
“I’m assuming they never found who shot me.”
“Not that I heard. I think someone would have told me.”
“I’ll call the station when we get back, just to check.”
Once traffic cleared, he stepped on the gas and eased into the other lane. As his front wheel passed the rear wheel of the trailer, a small bag fell in front of him. A fraction of a second later, there was a solid crunch under his right front tire.
Meagan frowned. “That didn’t sound good.”
“24 is just ahead. I’m going to make the turn, then pull over.”
Two minutes later, he dropped his speed to a crawl, eased off the shoulder and killed the engine. As soon as he stepped out, a soft hiss reached him. No, not a flat tire. He would have to call for help. Changing a tire with one arm in a sling was beyond his capabilities.
He rounded the front bumper and found the source of the hiss. Three screw heads rested snugly against the rubber treads, their shafts buried in the tire. There were likely more.
Meagan opened the door. “Is the tire okay?”
“Depends on your definition of okay. I found out what I hit. A bag of screws. I’m losing air fast.”
“Do you have a spare?”
He shrugged, then winced. “I have one, but it’s not going to do me a whole lot of good. Changing a tire with one arm in a sling isn’t a skill I’ve mastered.”
“I can do it.”
He looked at her askance. “You?”
“Don’t look so shocked. I’ve driven since I was sixteen. And with no man in the house, I learned pretty young how to do things for myself.” She climbed out of the truck. “Where is your jack and spare tire?”
“The jack is behind the rear seat. The spare is back there.” He pointed to the bed of the truck. But he would get them. No way was he going to let a woman change his tire while he stood idly by.
Once they had retrieved the items, she squatted down in front of the tire and set to work on the lug nuts, leveraging her body to break them loose. This was a side of Meagan he hadn’t seen before, and it filled him with a new sense of respect. But he shouldn’t be surprised. She had to be pretty self-sufficient to have done what she did to get away from Edmund. And lived to tell about it.
“What happened to your father?”
“When I was ten, he beat my mother so badly he almost killed her. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the last.”
Hunter shook his head. From an abusive father to Edmund. Had she had any examples of how a man was supposed to treat a woman?
She loosened the final nut and positioned the jack. “He got out of jail six years later and did everything he could to win her back. But after so long living without having to tiptoe around a man, constantly afraid of accidentally setting him off, Mom wasn’t about to give up her freedom. All his apologies and promises didn’t faze her. He finally gave up and moved away. I was sixteen then and haven’t heard from him since.”
Meagan shifted her position. The truck was jacked up far enough that the tire was no longer resting on the ground. She pulled it off, rolled it aside, then lifted the spare onto the lugs, helping to support it with one sneakered foot. A car sped toward them, coming from the direction of Cedar Key, and he glanced up as it passed.
His heart jumped to double time. It was a white sedan with tinted windows. He studied the car with keen alertness, trying to commit everything he could to memory over the next three or four seconds. There was a Cadillac emblem on the back. And a model he couldn’t make out. Maybe a DeVille. Florida tag, number 56Y... He couldn’t get the rest.
But that was at least something. Ever since Meagan was almost hit, everyone had been on the lookout for the white sedan. Apparently, it had been kept out of sight, maybe in a garage. Because no one had seen a car fitting that description. Until now.
Had the driver gotten wind of the fact that Meagan was leaving? Had he given up, figuring he had lost her? Or was he on his way to the bus station?
Hunter pulled out his cell phone. He would have the Chiefland police intercept him. And if that didn’t work, he would run what information he had as soon as he got back to Cedar Key.
More than anything, he wanted to catch this guy. But this new development brought him a sliver of relief. Her stalker believed she had left Cedar Key. If she’d been sitting in his front seat, in full view behind the windshield, the guy would have known she was returning. Instead, she’d been crouched beside the truck. And he’d been standing at the front quarter panel, further blocking her from view. Yes, her stalker would believe she was gone.
And not coming back. Thanks to the flat tire.
All things work together for good...
Hunter smiled. Maybe what he had considered a major inconvenience had just bought Meagan a reprieve.
* * *
Meagan cruised down the main channel, her four-horse motor wide-open. The sun on her face and the breeze in her hair did wonders for straightening out her tangled thoughts.
Yesterday, Darci had gotten the news they had all feared. After numerous tests, Jayden’s psychologist had given a diagnosis—mild to moderate autism. Darci had accepted the news with quiet strength. But Meagan wasn’t accepting anything. Fire pumped through her veins, anger that God would let this happen to someone so nice. Someone who didn’t deserve it.
According to Darci, everyone had been praying—Darci, her mom, Hunter and most of their church. But God turned a deaf ear. If He didn’t answer the prayers of good people like Darci, what chance did she have of ever being heard?
She eased to the edge of the channel to avoid the wake of an approaching powerboat. Finally being on the water again brought a wonderful sense of freedom. She’d been cooped up for so long, under the constant watchful eye of someone. Well, she still was; it just wasn’t as obvious.
Today Hunter’s friend Blake was the one hanging close, currently about thirty feet off her stern. She felt almost as safe with him as she did with Hunter. He was a former police detective, injured on the job. He walked with a limp and often used a cane, but he knew how to use a gun.
The one he carried was a pink Glock. He said it belonged to his wife. There was probably a story behind that, but Meagan didn’t know him well enough to ask.
She eased back into the channel. A little farther and she would head southeast to Snake Key.
Almost two weeks had passed without incident. Apparently, whoever had been stalking her had finally given up. So yesterday she’d decided it was time to start living again. She hadn’t bought a boat to leave it sitting idle in Darci’s dad’s backyard. And she wasn’t living in a vacationer’s paradise to restrict her comings and goings to work, home and the grocery store. Several of her paintings had sold. It was time to get busy and restock her inventory.
She had decided on Snake Key for several reasons. One, Blake said the fishing was good. He would be anchored just east of there, keeping her in his sight. Two, Snake Key was one of the islands that she hadn’t yet visited. Three, it was much more open and a less popular destination than Seahorse Key or Atsena Otie, so she would have plenty of warning before anyone could get close enough to be a threat.
A wet, cold sensation against her feet drew her attention downward. About a quarter inch of water had pooled in the back of the boat. Worry chewed at the edges of her mind. It wasn’t a lot, but it was too much to be sea spray. Besides, she was still in the channel.
She cast a glance over her shoulder. The Sea Ray was still back there. The sight helped to relieve the tension seeping into her shoulders. She wasn’t alone. If anything went wrong, a simple hand motion would have Blake next to her in seconds.
Her gaze dipped again to her feet. The puddle was expanding. Now she had no doubt. Her boat was taking on water.
She looked around her, searching for the nearest island. None were close. Snake Key, Seahorse Key and Atsena Otie were equally distant. Her heart began to pound, and she reached for one of the life jackets. She could swim without one. She had proved it to herself over three months ago when she’d abandoned Edmund’s boat in the middle of the lake and made a long, lone swim in the darkness. This would be nothing, especially with Blake to pluck her from the Gulf, if necessary.
As she dragged the life jacket onto her lap, dread trickled through her. One black strap dangled over her leg, its end cut. The plastic clasp was gone. She turned the life vest over and gasped. The orange nylon was shredded. Deep grooves marred the foam inside. She snatched the other jacket from its place on the floor. It, too, was destroyed.
Lead filled her gut, temporarily immobilizing her. What had happened to her boat wasn’t wear and tear, failure due to age or accidental damage. It had been done intentionally. Someone had tampered with it so it would take on water, then ruined her life jackets, hoping she would drown. Her stalker hadn’t given up.
And they were no closer to identifying him than when they had started. The information Hunter had on the sedan had led nowhere. There were three possible matches—a retired couple in Ocala, a single woman in Fanning Springs and a widow in The Villages. After questioning by law enforcement, all of them had been dismissed as possible suspects. Hunter had probably misread a number.
Meagan swung around to look at Blake, then gave him two sharp waves. In moments, he was beside her.
“I’m taking on water. I shouldn’t have any problem getting to Snake Key, but hold on to my stuff, just in case.” She handed him her phone, camera bag and sketch pad, then tossed the life jackets to him. They were worthless, but they were evidence.
She ignored his raised brows and gunned the motor. There would be time to explain later.
Halfway to Snake Key, her fear turned to desperation. She would never make it. Water was coming in more and more quickly, as if flowing through an ever expanding hole.
She threw a panicked glance at Blake, but he was already uncoiling a dock line. He tossed the end to her. “Tie this off to your boat.”
She killed the motor, then made her way forward in a crouch, sloshing through six inches of water. The boat listed to one side, and her heart leaped into her throat. She crouched even lower, clutching the sides.
When she reached the front cleat, she made a knot with shaking fingers. Hopefully it would hold. If not, her boat would end up on the bottom of the Gulf.
She looked over at Blake. He was beside her, holding the two boats together. He extended his free hand. “Get on.”
When she was aboard the Sea Ray, he gradually accelerated. But with every passing second, her hopes sank. They might save her boat, but the motor would be shot.
By the time they reached Snake Key, only the bow was visible above the waves, the motor submerged. Meagan jumped into the water, and moments later Blake was beside her, helping pull the waterlogged johnboat onto the shore. They tipped it on its side, and Blake bent to inspect it. Three nickel-sized holes penetrated the hull, hidden from above by the seat. He swept a finger across the edge of one, then rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.
“These were drilled, then filled with something that would dissolve after being in the water awhile.” He reached for his phone. “We need to call the police. It looks like you’re not out of danger, after all.”
The police came in the form of Hunter Kingston. A fuming Hunter Kingston.
He stepped ashore and swooped down on her, eyes blazing. “What in the world were you thinking, coming out here alone?”
Blake crossed his arms over his chest. “Hey, what am I, chopped liver?”
Hunter glared at his friend, apparently not any happier with him than he was with her.
Blake glared right back. “Look, she caught me at the marina this morning and wanted to know if I was going out. I said I was, and she asked if she could tag along. She thought the danger was over. We all did. But she was still being cautious.”
“You should have called me.”
“Sorry, I didn’t know you were her self-appointed guardian.” Blake stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Or maybe there’s more between you two than you’re willing to admit.”
In spite of the subdued tone, Meagan heard every word. Hunter didn’t respond, just turned that angry glare on her. It wasn’t nearly as intimidating with Blake there to absorb some of the hostility.
“You took chances today that were totally unnecessary.” His voice was still raised.
“I didn’t come out alone. I made sure someone was with me.” Her volume matched his. She wasn’t about to let him intimidate her. He was the one who was out of line. Police officers weren’t supposed to yell at victims, even if they didn’t agree with their choices.
She pointed a finger in his face. “You don’t need to be treating me like an errant child. I didn’t think I was taking chances. The sedan was gone. You saw it leave.”
“Apparently it came back. Or the creep found another mode of transportation.” Hunter’s voice was still raised.
“Or maybe my boat was tampered with two or three weeks ago.” It was possible. She hadn’t been out since getting the threatening note.
Blake held up both palms. “I’m going to leave you two to iron this out on your own. I promised Allison fresh fish for dinner, and you’re cutting into my fishing time.” He dropped his hands and limped back to his boat.
When Hunter turned to face her again, some of the fire had left his eyes. “Please, just promise me you won’t go out alone.”
She heaved an exasperated sigh. It was as if he hadn’t heard a word she had said. “I didn’t go out alone. I was with Blake. He’s law enforcement, just like you. He’s trained, and he’s got lots of experience. And just because there could still be some slim chance that I might be in danger, he went back and got Allison’s gun. So I wasn’t alone. Far from it.” She planted her hands on her hips. “I don’t think your concern is about me going out alone. I think it’s about me going somewhere without telling you.”
Hunter threw up his hands. “Okay. I admit it. I’m going crazy worrying about you. I have been ever since I read that note in Darci’s store.”
At his admission, her stomach rolled over and a watery weakness filled her legs. That didn’t sound like simple professional concern.
She swallowed hard. “Do you worry about all your residents like that?”
He didn’t answer immediately, just stared, searching her eyes. Or maybe he was searching within himself.
And suddenly, she didn’t want to hear the answer. What if Blake was right? What if there really was more between them than Hunter was willing to admit?
What if there was more between them than she was willing to admit?
Please lie. Because I don’t want to know the truth.
“No.” His tone was soft, but heavy with resignation. “I don’t worry about all my residents like that.”
He began to walk back toward his boat.
“Hey, wait. Where are you going?”
He didn’t respond.
She hurried after him. “I need to get my boat back home.”
“We will.”
“How?”
“Duct tape.”
She waded into the water with him. Her camera bag and other items were on his seat. Thank goodness Blake had had the presence of mind to think about her things. When he left, she’d been too wrapped up in her argument with Hunter.
She cast him a doubt-filled glance. “You’re really going to fix my boat with duct tape.”
“Not fix it.” He reached into a bin in the back and pulled out the roll of tape. “Just keep it afloat until we get back to Cedar Key.”
He waded to shore with the tape in one hand and a towel draped over his shoulder. “First we’ll move your motor to my back transom.”
“Do you think it’s salvageable?” She would keep the conversation on safe topics.
“I’m sure it’ll need cleaning up, maybe the carburetor rebuilt.” He moved away from the water’s edge to lay the towel on dry ground, the tape on top. “I have a friend who’s great with small-engine repair. He owes me a favor.”
“But he doesn’t owe me a favor.”
“Don’t worry about it. He’s retired, so he’s got lots of time on his hands. And he doesn’t need the money. His tinkering is more of a hobby.” Hunter smiled over at her. “Besides, he’d do almost anything for a pretty lady.”
Her pulse picked up, and her stomach flipped again. She silently scolded herself. It was a general statement, not aimed specifically at her.
She brushed the unwanted flutters aside and helped him turn the boat over. He had said his shoulder was healing well, but his arm was still in the sling. She wasn’t going to chance him tearing something.
He began using the towel to dry off the hull and wipe away any clinging sand. “If we run the duct tape over the gunnel, around the hull and back over the other side, that should hold it until we get back.”
She took the towel from him and shook the sand from it, then dropped to her knees to resume wiping down the hull. She was determined to stay busy. Because as long as she kept her focus on the task at hand, it wouldn’t allow room for other thoughts.
Such as how Blake’s accusation filled her head with all kinds of impossible dreams.
And how Hunter’s admission sent both hope and dread surging through her at the same time.
And how, no matter how much she tried not to, she couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to be loved by a man like Hunter.