Hunted (49 page)

Upstairs the hallway split off into more bedrooms and bathrooms. Nice and roomy. The master suite was enough to make him smile. A large, four-poster, king-size bed sat in the middle of the room. Made of heavy, blond logs, it demanded center attention. A red and blue quilt covered it. He saw clothes, black lingerie—he raised one brow—trailed out of one dresser drawer and the closet stood open, jeans and shirts hanging haphazardly and piling on the floor amidst jumbled shoes. Did little old ladies wear black lingerie? Why hadn’t he asked Tim more about his landlord?

He sighed. Though he’d love to stay in here, it seemed the owner had yet to clean up. Fine, he’d take a guest room for tonight. As of now, he didn’t really care. And to be fair, he was here a day early.  Tim Kerrin, his friend, assured Aiden his early arrival would not be a problem.

Aiden hoped to hell the guy was right. That was all he needed, to have no place to stay. Not that he couldn’t find another. Money opened locked doors, but he would rather not have to go through the trouble.

He chose the last room down the long hallway. Yawning, he tossed his overnight bag on the bed and sat down wishing the aspirin would kick in.

Today was bad enough as it was. There hadn’t been room for his jet at the local Crested Butte airstrip, so he’d had to land at the nearest town, Gunnison, thirty minutes away and drive up here. The contractors at the hotel were behind schedule, but he’d be damned if The
Highland Hotel wouldn’t open on time. The painters pulled their contract. Aiden smiled. He’d see about that. By the time the Kinncaid lawyers got through with them, the company would be history. He wasn’t Kinncaid Enterprises’ CEO for just PR. Now he had to find a contractor to come in and fix all the screw-ups. If they had to work twenty-four-seven, the damn hotel was opening on the scheduled date.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and wished his headache and the whole damn day to hell.

* * *

Jesslyn Black looked at the clock on the dashboard. After midnight. On the off chance Maddy would still be at The Copper Dime, she turned off Gothic Road onto Elk Avenue—picturesque with its neo-Victorian buildings—and drove up to the alley entrance of the bar and grill.

The Copper Dime was a steak and beer place, dubbed simply The Dime by locals. Ski and summer tourist seasons were their busiest times. Jesslyn was the minor owner of the establishment. Madelyn Brooks’s SUV was parked outside the back door, along with Timothy Kerrin’s—the major owner.

Jesslyn cut the engine of her pickup and climbed out of the four-wheel-drive rig. Climbed being the operative word for her. At five-foot-three, she used the running boards on the side for more than just show. Tim told her they were, in her case, stepladders.

Shaking off the wayward thoughts, she rolled her neck and stretched, wishing the drive from Denver wasn’t so damn long.  Warm air, full of liquor, grilled burgers and the faint whiff of coffee, hit her face as she pulled the back door open.

“Lucy! I’m home!” she called.

A bottle crashed to the floor. “Son of a bitch.” Tim stood up from behind the bar. “You’re paying for that.”

“I didn’t drop it,” she told him. “What was it?”

“Half a bottle of our best Scotch. And, I wouldn’t have dropped it if not for you.” He glared at her as he grabbed the mop from the corner and started to clean up the mess.

Jesslyn leaned against the old scarred bar and crossed her booted feet. His gray eyes narrowed on her.

“You have fun at your meeting?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I guess so. I needed it. Authors must meet with their editors. Though the drive I could have lived without.”

“You could have flown to New York.”

“Oh yeah. You know how much I just love New York.” She shuddered at the thought of all those people crammed in one place, shuffling through the streets. One on top of the other. Like little ants. “Denver seemed convenient for the both of us.”

He huffed out a breath. “Well, now that your little vacation is over, you can get back to pulling your weight around here.”

“Ah, and here I thought you really missed me.” She stood on her toes and ruffled his salt-and-pepper hair. “When are you going to dye that? You want to look old or what?”

He cocked a brow at her. Tim Kerrin was in his late thirties, about five-eleven, with a wiry frame, narrow face and sharp gray eyes. He’d owned The Dime for almost ten years and took her on as a partner three years ago.

“I haven’t heard the ladies complaining.”

Jesslyn snorted. “What ladies?”

“And you last dated when?” he tossed back.

“The ass you set me up with.”

“Who? I bet you don’t even remember his name.”

Shit. Leo? Lloyd? “It started with an ‘L.’”

He shook his head. “Lyle. His name was Lyle.”

She snapped her fingers. “There you go. Lyle. And he was an ass and a bore and your matchmaking skills suck. Please spare me your next attempt.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“No, it was worse.” She snagged a pretzel out of the wooden bowl on the bar. “I’m going to talk to Maddy.”

She was at the swinging door leading into the kitchen when he added, “Glad you’re back.”

The door swished open and a familiar sight greeted her. Maddy, The Dime
’s
chef, was rubbing herbs into a huge slab of roast.

“Hey,” she said, walking over and grabbing a beer out of the fridge. “What’s for dinner?”

Maddy didn’t answer. Normally, the smiling redhead had a comeback for anything, but she didn’t so much as look up.

Jesslyn frowned as she unscrewed the cap. “Everything okay?”

Maddy sighed. “Fine.”

“Uh-huh. And I’m Suzy-Sunshine.” Jesslyn hopped up on the counter and waited.

Maddy wrapped the meat in foil and put it in the refrigerator. Water gushed from the sink, filling the silence as Maddy washed her hands.

Jesslyn studied her friend. A china doll face, full lips complete with dimples, and bright blue eyes added to her fiery red hair. What she wouldn’t give to have boobs like Maddy. Tall, athletic and built for a man’s fantasies, Madelyn Brooks made women envious, men salivate, and did not have a clue to her charms. But now her straight red brows were pulled into a frown.

“Maddy? What’s wrong?”

Maddy opened her mouth but the thump on the swinging door cut her off.

Tim stuck his head in. “Let’s go home, ladies.”

“I’ve got some stuff to wrap up here,” Maddy said, “then I’ll lock up and head that way.”

His eyes narrowed as he studied Maddy. Jesslyn knew that look. Tim appeared autocratic and cynical, but she knew he was a softy under it all. He’d given her a job when she needed interaction with people. Now they were more partners than boss and employee.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” both she and Maddy answered.

“Uh-huh. Well, I’m outta here. I’ve had enough for one day. Bar fights with college kids,” he muttered with a glance at the clock.

“What?” Jesslyn asked, taking a swallow of her beer, the salty taste cool on her tongue.

“Oh,” Maddy said, “he’s still pissed about the college kids who started a fight tonight.”

“Flying chairs do not sit well with the family at the next table trying to eat their burgers and chicken strips,” Tim grumbled.

Jesslyn could only imagine. Swallowing past the chuckle, she said, “How bad was it?”

“Busted table, busted chair and I threw them out and called Garrison.”

“And did our local Chief Tight Ass ride to the rescue?” she asked.

He only glared at her. “Your sympathy is too much.”

“Look at the bright side,” she told him. “It could always be worse. Could have burned the place down or something.”

His smile was razor thin. “Your optimistic attitude is so refreshing and only reinforced with that cheery motto.”

Maddy snorted. “Optimism and Jesslyn are not words that belong in the same vocabulary.”

“True,” Tim added.

“What is this? Pick on Jesslyn day?”

“You’ve been gone.” He looked again at the clock. “And I’ve got to be going.”

“Hot date?” she asked.

“Will you lock up?” He pulled on his coat.

“Who is she?” Maddy added.

“Night, ladies,” he waved.

“We’ll find out,” Jesslyn said.

“Night, ladies.” The door swung shut.

“We will!” she yelled.

The muted thump of the back door echoed in the quiet bar.

“Okay, spill it,” she told Maddy.

Maddy was gathering her stuff up. “Nothing new, just problems with Kirk.”

Kirk the Jerk.

“Maddy, why don’t you ditch the guy? You could do so much better.” Kirk Roberts was not worth a woman’s time. He’d tried to make a pass at Jesslyn during the Octoberfest last year. It hadn’t been the last. The man had an ego problem and apparently lacked simple rudimentary listening skills. “No” seemed to be beyond his comprehension. Jesslyn hadn’t told Maddy because she didn’t want to hurt her friend. “He may be the president of Crested Butte Bank, but he doesn’t deserve you. He’s a womanizing prick and only wants you to complete his ‘perfect’ picture with the two kids he already has.” She took a drink, knowing this was old ground. Then asked, “Why do you think he has such a problem with you working here? It’s beneath him, tarnishes that ideal image he’s created.”

Maddy held up a hand.

“Sorry,” Jesslyn said. “I’ll keep my opinions to myself.”

“Like I said, it’s nothing new.” Her sigh was heavy.

There was something else. “So if it’s not Kirk, then what?”

Maddy looked at her. “I got another bundle of lilies for my birthday.”

“Oh.” For several weeks, Maddy had received lilies from someone. “Still no card?”

“No, just the stupid things on my doorstep again.”

At first they had laughed about it. A secret admirer. But now?

“Did you tell anyone?”

Maddy nodded. “Yeah, I told Kirk to stop sending them because I don’t like lilies and it was starting to creep me out.” She shrugged. “That’s when we started fighting again. He thinks I’m seeing someone else and it just got blown all out of shape.”

Fine for him to boink his secretary at the teller bar and try for any other woman, but not for Maddy to get flowers. Figures. Jesslyn took another swallow of beer hoping this would really be the end of Maddy and Kirk’s on-again-off-again relationship. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“What? No, ‘dump the dick’? Forget the creep? You’re better off without him?”

She couldn’t hold in the grin. “As I said, you know
my
opinions where Kirk’s concerned. Want to come to my place and trash guys? I’ll make brownies.”

Maddy smiled. “No thanks. I’m going home and soaking in the bathtub and don’t plan to get up till noon tomorrow.”

Jesslyn hopped off the counter, poured the rest of her beer down the sink and threw the bottle in the glass bin. Together they walked out and locked up. The June night air was cold against her arms and she rubbed them, turning to Maddy.

“You call me if you get any more of those flowers.” She reached over and gave her friend a hug.

“I will. Promise. Something about the whole thing is just creepy.”

* * *

He watched them as they stood beneath the alley light. Both women by their vehicles. He wondered what they were talking about. Friends.

After tonight there would only be one. He’d watched them through the window as they’d talked about something that seemed serious. The way they both frowned.

Frown. Smile. Smile. Frown. It was too late—she’d already smiled at him.

The shadows hid him from prying eyes, darkness closed in around him.

He breathed deep and caught her faint scent on the breeze, perfume that always surrounded her. Spices and herbs, like a potion concocted by a witch.

A witch, a whore. Both were the same as far as he was concerned. Red hair glinted in the dim lights from down the street.

A cool breeze blew up the alley, chilling him.

He watched as they hugged. Waited as one got in her vehicle, the engine rumbling to life in the quiet night.  

She turned and he could have sworn she looked straight at him. He gripped the knife, the handle smooth in his palm.

Time. Right this moment was not the time. He knew where she was going. He would wait.

Hurrying through the shadows, he slid through the darkness, scurrying back to his own vehicle. Starting it, he pulled out and down the street. Perfect.

Only minutes later, he cut the lights. Quietly, so as not to awaken anyone, he shut the door. Hurry. He had to hurry.

His shoes rustled through the underbrush of the woods. The sharp smell of pine tickled his nose.

At the edge of the clearing, he realized he was gasping. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. It would all be over soon.

Where had she gone? Her car wasn’t here.

Headlights curved along the ground just in front of him.  

A smile creased his face as his heart began to pound. Sighing, he tucked the knife down by his thigh.

Her car door clicked open and he hurried forward.

Gravel crunched beneath his shoes.

Her head turned towards him.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

“It’s just me.”

* * *

Jesslyn slammed on the brakes as a cyclist zoomed across her turnoff. Something in the backseat slid into the floor. Shit. She’d had her blinker on. Had the idiot just not paid attention? It was dark as pitch tonight. She could have mowed him down. Glancing back, she saw it was Maddy’s birthday present that had fallen into the floor.

She’d forget her own head if it weren’t attached. For about a second she thought about waiting until the next day, but decided the stupid gift might cheer her friend. She’d gotten Maddy a singing marmot at a specialty shop in Denver. It was like the mechanical flowers with shades that burst into annoying songs whenever someone walked by. Maddy collected little figurines of the mountainous creatures so when Jesslyn saw this, she knew Maddy would like it. The furry marmot was dressed in a hot pink Speedo and sang “Hunka, Hunka Burning Love.”