Run From Fear (8 page)

The next three days passed without incident, and Talia pushed aside the urge to call Jack. What could he do? Help her change her number? The horse had already left the barn with that one, but Talia had canceled the house phone service anyway, just in case Fitzhugh was inclined to keep bothering her.

As her life settled back into its soothingly predictable pattern, Talia pushed the phone call out of her mind. The fact that the reporter had tracked her down had nothing to do with the possible break-in. Nevertheless, when Rosie had called for her nightly check-in, Talia warned her about the guy just in case. No reason to dredge it all up again, she’d told her sister, and you could never rely on them not to twist your words into something you never meant to say.

Susie came in on a cloud of perfume and plopped herself onto a bar stool. Talia looked up from wiping glasses in preparation for the happy-hour crowd.

“Finally, a moment alone,” Susie said, a little breathless. “Time for you to dish, sister.”

Talia’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “About what?

Susie opened her mouth in mock exasperation. “Hello? About that prime piece of man meat who was parading through here the other night.”

“Jack?” Talia said.

“Of course Jack.”

“There’s nothing going on between me and Jack,” Talia said forcefully as she turned to check the back bar supplies. “He helped me out of a really rough spot, but that’s it.”

Talia could see Susie’s reflection in the mirror as her eyes narrowed under her perfectly arched brows. “So you’re telling me there’s absolutely nothing romantic between you.”

“Not even remotely,” Talia said firmly, ignoring the faint bitterness the words left in her mouth.

“Then you don’t mind if I call him, try to get together when he’s in town.”

“Of course not,” Talia said, pasting a bright smile on her face. Yet she couldn’t suppress the curl of something—it wasn’t jealousy, dammit!—at the thought of Jack’s big, dark hands tangled in Susie’s blond hair as he bent to kiss her…“He’s not even my type!” Talia said, then snapped her mouth closed at Susie’s speculative look.

“Oh, please, he’s so much more your type than that nerd you were dating last winter.”

“Just because he was a calculus professor doesn’t make him a nerd.”

“No, but the milky complexion and delicate girl hands did,” Susie scoffed.

Talia rolled her eyes. “Whatever. In any case, the point is moot, because even if Jack were my type, I’m not his.” Goddamn it, why did it have to hurt so much to admit that out loud?

Susie leaned back on her stool. A half smile quirked her lips and she shook her head. “Talia, Talia, Talia, can you really tell me you didn’t see how he was looking at you?”

Talia froze in the act of reaching for a corkscrew as hot color flooded her cheeks. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if he’d been a cartoon, his tongue would have been hanging out and little hearts would have been floating around his head.”

Talia’s own heart started to thud inside her chest. Could he really—She stopped herself short. There was no way. “My relationship with Jack is complicated, to say the least.”

Susie’s expression turned serious. “I can only imagine, after what you went through, that it’s hard to open yourself back up like that.”

Talia nodded, her chest tight. When she had first started working here, Susie had made no secret of the fact that she’d Googled Talia and knew all of the details—the ones that were printed, anyway—of what had happened. “So you understand, given the circumstances of how we met, and what happened after, that doesn’t really lend itself to any kind of romantic involvement. That’s not something I’m ready for, with any man. Especially Jack.”

“If you say so,” Susie said, a little exasperated. “And if you’re cool with it, I’m going to get his number from Alyssa.”

“Go for it,” Talia said, the words scraping her throat like sandpaper.

Why shouldn’t Susie and Jack have some fun? she told herself as she watched Susie walk away. Better he hooked up with someone Talia knew and actually liked than some random skank.

But the thought of them together… She turned on the TV over the bar to distract herself.

As she finished stocking the bar, something the talking head on TV said penetrated her consciousness.

There are reports today of yet another victim of kidnap and sexual assault, and police believe the perpetrator is the same man who has raped at least two other women in the last month. The man abducted the victim in the parking lot on Broadway and took her to an unknown location where she was repeatedly assaulted.

Talia swallowed back a surge of bile and tried to force back the images of herself, of the other girls Nate had brutalized and murdered.
This has nothing to do with any of that
, she reminded herself. Nate’s dead, over and done. But the world was full of evil assholes, and she couldn’t let herself dwell on them.

Police are not releasing certain details about the crime, but the victim, who was found unconscious near her car in the same lot early this morning, sustained serious injuries and is currently listed in critical but stable condition. In a statement given earlier today, Lieutenant Kortlang of the Redwood City
Police warned area women to be on guard while out at night, to park only in well-lit areas, and to stay in groups of two or more if possible.

Talia grabbed the remote and snapped off the TV.

“Creepy, isn’t it?”

Talia gave a little shriek and dropped the glass she was holding as she spun around.

She held her hand to her heart to slow its pounding and recognized Frank Everett, one of their regular customers. A retired professor in his sixties, he and his wife came in several times a week for an early dinner and a glass of wine.

His dark eyes under bushy brows were full of apology. “I’m so sorry for startling you, Talia. I thought you heard me come in.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Talia said with a shaky smile. “I was distracted.” She waved in the direction of the television.

“It’s awful, what people are capable of doing to each other.” Frank shook his head.

You have no idea
, Talia thought. “Let me clean this up and then I’ll get you something.” She quickly swept up the glass shards.

“Don’t worry about me, dear. I know you’re not officially open yet.” It was four forty-five and technically they didn’t open for dinner until five. “But I was going stir crazy in the house and told Peg to meet me here on her way back from her gardening club meeting.”

“No worries.” Talia waved him off. Some patrons she would have kept cooling their heels until the last second, but Frank and his wife were a sweet couple, friendly and full of stories of all the places they’d traveled in their
decades of marriage. And still so clearly in love with each other. Talia liked to study them like she was on some sort of anthropological mission to observe a foreign culture. “What can I get you? Cocktail? Wine?”

“You choose,” he said with a paternal smile.

Talia pulled a bottle of red from behind the bar. “We just got a couple cases of this in. Technically it’s not available by the glass, but I’ll let you have it for the same as the house cab. Just don’t tell,” she said with a wink.

She didn’t know what it was—the weird feelings she’d been having lately, the call from the reporter, the hideous news story—but for a split second, she flashed back to her old life.

The pulse of heavy techno music as she smiled and vamped for the high rollers. Scoring a thousand dollars in tips on a good night just by keeping the liquor flowing and the girls fawning. A smile on her face even as her feet screamed from the pinch of sky-high heels and her stomach churned at the prospect of
him
summoning her.

“You okay? You look dizzy.”

Talia shook off the strange sense of vertigo and pulled the cork from the bottle. Instead of a slick executive or pro athlete who had money leaking out of their pores and women jumping to do their bidding, she was staring into the concerned, lined face of the pleasantly disheveled professor. Instead of a too-tight dress that put her centerfold-worthy body on display, she was wearing jeans, comfortable boots, and a turtleneck sweater.

She’d never make more than one hundred dollars in tips on her very best night. But she’d take this life over the old one, a thousand times over. The thought brought an odd sense of peace. All of the fear, the paranoia that
dogged her for the last twenty-four hours, faded into the background.

Soon Peg Everett joined her husband. She greeted Talia warmly before turning to her husband. Frank greeted her with a kiss and asked how her day was like he really cared. Talia shook her head. She didn’t remember much about her father—he’d left before her ninth birthday, right after Rosario was born—but she knew that drunk loser had never been half as nice to her mother.

The crowd filtered in, and Talia settled into a rhythm, filled with a fresh sense of gratitude that she had the life she did.

She’d been given a chance to escape, to start over in this nice community full of friendly people who smiled and tipped and wanted nothing more from her than a few drinks and bit of small talk. A place where she could call the cops if she had trouble, and a sense of security could be had with a new alarm system installed by a man who could turn her world upside down with a single look of his ice-blue eyes.

Rosario called at exactly eleven on the dot, and Talia listened with half an ear as she chattered about a trip she wanted to take with some of her dormmates after midterms were over. She cleaned up the bar and helped Susie close up.

That night, safe and secure in her house, armed with Jack and Ben’s upgraded alarm system, Susie’s thoughts about Jack came back to haunt her.

But the dream she had was anything but a nightmare.

She woke up late the next morning to dark skies and a steady stream of rain, typical for March in Northern California, unable to remember the details. Left with only
foggy images and a restless ache, she hauled herself out of bed and forced thoughts of Jack out of her mind.

She met Susie for a training session with Gus, and shoved aside the surge of jealousy when Susie told her she’d called Jack and invited him to come in for a drink on the house. “I’ll have to make sure he comes on your night off,” Susie said as she wiped her face with a towel, “otherwise I won’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of holding his attention.”

“Shut up,” Talia said with a little laugh. No matter what Jack did or didn’t feel about her, it felt good to have a friend who could bust her chops and add a little lightness to what had begun as a very heavy situation.

By the time she got to work later that evening, Talia was in a better mood than she’d been in all week.

“Hey, this came for you,” Susie said as Talia stashed her bag in the office. Talia took the envelope. “Weird that someone would send it here,” Susie said, not bothering to hide her curiosity as Talia ripped the envelope open.

Oh, God, oh, God.
Talia’s field of vision swooped and dipped and her body went numb with cold as the platinum chain tumbled into her hand.

“Talia, are you okay?”

The roar in her ears deafened her. Hands clasped her shoulders and pushed her into a chair. When she came back to herself, her head was between her knees and she was breathing in deep gasps.

Talia sat up and looked at Susie, perched on the edge of her desk, her face knotted in confusion as the necklace dangled from her fingers.

Platinum chain, with a square diamond pendant. “It’s beautiful,” Susie said, and held it out to Talia.

Talia jerked back like it was a snake.

“What’s wrong? It’s just a necklace,” Susie said.

Talia just shook her head, her eyes glued to the diamond’s wicked glimmer. It wasn’t just any necklace. It was the necklace from her nightmare, the one that nearly sliced through her throat as it choked her. It was the necklace David Maxwell had given her after she’d testified against Sean Flynn.

The necklace she’d been wearing when Nate Brewster tried to kill her.

H
e nursed his cup of coffee, his gaze flitting around the campus coffeehouse as he tried to contain his excitement.

As he waited, his thoughts were irresistibly drawn to what was waiting for him after this meeting.

Or rather, who.

Slim, with dark hair and dark eyes. Her skin dusky and buttery soft. When he’d left her this morning, she was still unmarked, the smooth expanse of her back bared to him as she huddled in the corner, her hands cuffed around a bar he’d installed just for that purpose.

He’d picked her up last night—too soon after the last victim to be safe, he knew. But he hadn’t been able to resist when he saw her shopping alone at the grocery store. She looked so much like Talia.

In that instant, he’d known she would be the perfect canvas on which to practice.

He smiled faintly as he traced his finger in a pattern across the tabletop. In his mind, the burnished wood became caramel-colored flesh, splitting open, blood welling in the wake of his knife.

She would scream. She would scream and struggle
and try to get away. But the ties around her wrists and ankles would hamper her, and she wouldn’t be able to hold him off.

As he daydreamed, he could feel the heat building low in his belly.

Tonight.
Usually he liked to keep them for a little while. Experience had taught him that when a woman was locked in a dark, cold room, stripped naked, and bound in utter darkness for several days, she became much more pliable.

But he wasn’t sure he’d be able to wait with this one. He curled his fingers into fists so no one would see them tremble in excitement.

The other hand went under the table and slipped discreetly between his legs. He grabbed his testicles and gave them a vicious twist. White-hot pain shot through him, so severe he had to swallow back bile.

Control.
The pain served its purpose, dampening his excitement, reminding him that he couldn’t let his excitement get the best of him.

He was so close; he couldn’t let carelessness be his downfall.