Unsafe Haven (23 page)

“I abandoned everything and never went back once I called Robert, cleared out my clothes, and grabbed what mementos I could.”

“Oh, honey.” He kissed her forehead. “Boofer, the canine salt shaker.”

She released a shaky chuckle. “Yeah. Two days after I . . . two days later, I bolted from Portland with a few suitcases, a box, and as much money as I could withdraw from my parents’ bank account without raising undue suspicion.” She rubbed wearily at her eyes. “By the time Evelyn Herington contacted me, I’d already changed my entire identity. It cost a fortune, but I had what I needed to start over. After I got off the damned phone with her, I stomped it to bits. The cell phone I’d had in Portland was long gone. I’d destroyed it the night Roy . . . well, you know.”

“How long had you lived in Pendleton?”

“About a year and a half. Long enough to start feeling safe. I should have known better.” She blew out a troubled breath. “I thought once you had a new identity in place, it was enough. Evelyn’s call shot my theory all to hell. So, I trashed my laptop and disposed of anything that could trace back to Victoria Wyndham. A coffeehouse near my apartment building had an Internet café, and I took advantage of it. Started searching for a hideaway, found an ad for Mike Nulty’s store on eBay, of all places, and here I am.”

“I wondered how you’d found The Post.”

Kendall smiled in reflection. “I talked to him on the phone once. He seemed very nice, soft-spoken. But he must have been hard-hearted in some respect to push Wendy away.”

“Yeah.” Denn slipped under the covers and snuggled closer. “But I’d rather not talk about Wendy and Nulty right now. And I think you’ve dwelled in the past long enough. I believe I’ve put an offer on the table.” He stroked her from nape to hip, with long, tingly caresses. “I think I’ve proven how well I know you.”

“I—”

“No pressure, honest. Just give it some thought.” He held her gaze with such loving patience in his eyes, she teared up again. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you, always. Someday I’d like to see a ring, in this exact spot.” He lifted her left hand and kissed her ring finger. “I can wait.”

Conroy deplaned at Anchorage International Airport, prepared to vent his ire on the first available ticket agent. Never had he suffered a worse flight.

First Class had been a joke. His seat wouldn’t recline far enough. The meal was inedible, the champagne flat, the dinnerware inferior. By the time he’d landed in Anchorage, Conroy had a list as long as his arm of reasons why no one in their right minds should ever fly to Alaska.

Desperate for a cup of coffee, he nevertheless refused to touch the swill offered by the few cafés open this late in the evening. He’d have liked nothing more than to indulge in some pampering at a five-star hotel, as was his custom when traveling. However, Conroy had already resigned himself to accepting far less than perfection and planned on catching a few hours of sleep at one of the inferior hotels nearby the airport.

Wanting to lodge complaint after complaint, but knowing he couldn’t frustrated the hell out of him. If he raised a fuss, someone would remember him. Though he despised being stymied, he had to keep his mouth shut. Conroy sat in an empty gate area and forced himself to regain control of his temper.

Three minutes of deep breathing helped, and he relaxed as much as the molded seat would allow. He opened his folio and located the state map he’d bought in Portland. He’d already folded it to show the area of Southwest Alaska he suspected this village of Staamat might be.

Even with a magnifier, he couldn’t find it. Conroy tapped his finger on the creased map and fought the urge to rip it to shreds. He briefly considered soliciting assistance but balked at asking these airport bumpkins more than he absolutely had to, lest he reveal too much. It harkened back to keeping a low profile.

During his week in Pendleton, he’d planned what he thought was a foolproof mission: in and out of Alaska, with no one the wiser and Victoria successfully in hand. But he hadn’t counted on two things: the immenseness of Alaska and the utter remoteness of his ultimate destination. For God’s sake, where were all the roads? How the hell could he get from place to place without a road?

Then he recalled what he’d once read about bush planes.

Conroy folded the map and stashed it in his folio, before gathering the single carryon piece he’d brought with him. He’d abandoned his other luggage in Pendleton, leaving them stripped of any identifying markings and tags. Some lucky moron working at Goodwill would find the windfall sitting at a rear entrance and hopefully claim it.

He slipped the strap of his folio over his shoulder, taking care not to overly wrinkle his Hugo Boss raw silk, belted jacket, and strode to the nearest open ticket counter.

“Excuse me.” Conroy offered a warm smile to the pretty young agent manning the counter. “I need some information on chartering a bush plane.”

“Of course, sir. Do you also require hotel accommodations for tonight?”

He resisted gritting his teeth at the thought of the ‘accommodations’ awaiting him. “I have a reservation, yes.” He whipped out his wallet. “I prefer to leave before noon, tomorrow. Just tell me how much you need to secure a seat.”

“I’ll see what I can do, sir. But even with charters standing by, you might not get a flight tomorrow.” At his huff of displeasure, she flashed him an apologetic look. “This is tourist season for us, and most charters are booked solid. Let me see what I can find for you.” Her fingers flew across her keyboard.

Conroy drummed his own fingers on the counter as he waited for the incompetent fool to wade through her database. For Christ’s sake, he didn’t have time to cool his heels in town, not when his prize was this close to attainment. Obviously, he didn’t have much of a choice.

Damn it to hell.

Finally, the ticket agent looked up from her monitor. “All right, sir, the best I can do is with a local charter. Their pilots deal more with standbys, so it’s easier to schedule on the fly.” She tittered at her own joke, but sobered up quickly when Conroy uttered an impatient hiss.

“Fine, I’ll take it. When?”

She clicked her mouse a few times. “Day after tomorrow. You check in over at Merrill Field for exact departure, but it should leave around three in the afternoon. I’m sorry for any inconvenience.” She offered the apology with the sort of professional sympathy her job no doubt demanded. Conroy summoned every drop of control he possessed to insure his utter fury didn’t show on his face. It would never do for this idiot woman to remember a single detail about him, especially a temper tantrum.

He paid in cash, folded his ticket, and stashed it in his wallet, then suffered through the standard spiel about charter flights, and accepted a locally printed map of touristy traps and such. He had no intention of throwing his money about in this ridiculous place, other than to order room service and plot out the final leg of this pain-in-the-ass trip. Not to mention the various ways he intended to punish his errant fiancée for every single transgression he’d suffered thus far.

As he turned from the counter, the ticket agent’s cheery voice halted him. “Enjoy your time in our beautiful state, sir. And may I add, Staamat is a lovely village. I hope you enjoy yourself.”

Conroy bared his teeth in a grin that would have sent her diving for safety had she seen it. He strode toward the nearest escalator, muttering, “Oh, I will. Make no mistake. I will.”

Kendall set a steaming bowl of Irish oats on the table under Luna’s twitching nose. “Here. Eat it all. And you should know better.” She took a seat across from Luna, prepared to monitor every bite.

“Mmm.” Luna closed her eyes as she chewed. “You put cinnamon in it. And apples! Yummy.”

“And a few chopped pecans. Why on earth didn’t you eat at Jo’s last night? I heard she made goulash.” Kendall laid the rest of the apple on a napkin and pushed it across the table. “You might as well have this, too.”

“I would have eaten goulash but I was having so much fun with the babies. I kind of forgot.” Luna scraped the bowl clean, pushed it aside, and started on the apple. She gestured wildly with it. “I gave both of them baths and helped feed them. Cal wanted to hold Grant so I put the baby in his lap and Grant farted on him.” She sank her teeth into the apple. “It really stunk, too,” she said between bites.

Kendall choked out a laugh. “I can imagine. Sounds like you had a great time.” She leaned her chin on her hand and enjoyed Luna’s bubbly enthusiasm as she finished her meal and talked about Jo’s babies.

Finally, Luna wiped her mouth on her napkin. “I’m stuffed. Thanks, Kennie.” She leapt from her chair, rounded the table, then threw her arms around Kendall’s neck and clung.

Kendall cuddled her gently. With Luna’s affection like a bright, shiny gift, she couldn’t imagine not accepting Denn’s proposal and spending the rest of her life with two people she’d grown to love so deeply. She’d promised Denn to think about it, and she would. Part of her ached to say, ‘yes.’ But sometimes she awoke in the middle of the night, panicked, with the remnants of yet another nightmare swimming greasily in her stomach. If it happened on the nights she spent with Denn, she kept it to herself.

In the meantime, Denn’s patience and Luna’s acceptance meant everything to her.

Kendall gave Luna another squeeze and enjoyed her uninhibited response. “So, rough night, huh?”

“I got up with the twins a lot. Taking care of them is hard work. Think I’ll take a nap.” Luna dashed to the cupboard for her insulin supplies and brought her glucose meter and a testing strip to the table. “I forgot to test last night. Don’t tell Denn.” Her eyes pleaded with Kendall. “I didn’t mean to forget. Jo needed to sleep so I stayed up. She says I’m a big help to her.”

“I know you are, honey. I think it’s great. And I won’t tell your brother, but don’t do it again. Skipping meals and forgetting your regular routine isn’t smart.” Kendall watched as Luna efficiently caught the drop of blood on the strip and tested it. “Everything okay?”

“Yep. It’s just a half-point higher. Not enough to worry about.” Luna returned her supplies to the cupboard and rinsed her finger. “I took meds last night, honest. But I just forgot to eat. If I do my shot now, it’ll make me pukey.”

“Well, go ahead and sleep for a while. But not all day. And no more skipping meals, okay? You’ll make Denn and me worry.” Kendall set Luna’s bowl and spoon in the sink and filled it with water. When she turned, she caught Luna staring hard at her. “What? Do I have something smeared on my nose?”

Luna shook her head slowly, still staring at her. “You said ‘Denn and me.’ It makes you sound kind of like a married couple.” She smiled, a sudden show of even, white teeth. “I like it.”

Kendall returned that pretty smile. “I like it, too.”

Mid-afternoon, Denn paused in the kitchen doorway at Four Hills Inn and stared in surprise at the woman darting from sink to pantry, humming to herself. “Eloise? I thought you were in Nome.”

Eloise Kag gave him a sunny smile. Flour dusted the front of her navy blue tee shirt. “Denn, good to see you. Yes, I was headed to Nome, but cancelled my trip when Wendy called and asked me to fill in for her.” She bustled to the oven and pulled out a baking sheet of Brie slices encased in golden brown puff pastry. “The poor girl is sick. I put her right to bed. Pale, shaky . . . I asked her if she wanted me to get hold of Pet, and she refused. Said she just needed a few days to rest.” Eloise moved the savory appetizers from the baking sheet to a wicker tray lined with parchment paper. “Be a dear and set these out on the counter.”

He carried the tray into the parlor. A few guests, milling around and chatting, spied the treat and greedily fell on it as if they hadn’t eaten in years. Denn tossed them a vague smile and returned to the kitchen.

At the table, Eloise kneaded scone dough. He gestured, encompassing the room. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Not a thing, dear. You might go check on Wendy for me. I never saw her looking so peaked. I hope she’s not coming down with stomach flu.” Eloise cut the soft dough into wedges and placed them in a heavy-duty scone pan. “Everything’s under control. I have a nice lobster bisque simmering for dinner and I made those yummy cheddar muffins. You want some for Luna? I’ll bet she’d love them. And your gal. Kennie, right? What a sweetheart she is. You know, Luna adores her. You take some bisque and muffins. Feed your ladies so they don’t have to cook for you.”

“How did you—? Never mind. Luna told you.” Denn vacillated between amusement at the local grapevine and mild irritation at the way everyone’s business was discussed so openly.
Starting with mine.

“Denn, don’t you go giving that child grief. You can’t clean your teeth in this town without everyone knowing whether you brush up and down or sideways. Luna needs a big sister, and I’d say your Kendall is perfect for the job. Now, shoo.” Eloise flapped her dishtowel at him. “Check on Wendy for me.”

“Fine.” Denn heaved himself from the chair and headed toward the parlor, but turned and pointed a finger in Eloise’s direction. “No more spreading rumors, you savvy?” He darted away before she could flick him with her towel.

He heard the TV, its volume muted, as he approached Wendy’s suite. Her door was ajar. He knocked lightly and eased it wider. “Wendy, can I come in?”

“No.” Her voice sounded muffled.

“Too bad. I’m coming in, anyhow.”
And I’m getting some answers.

He stepped into the dim room and sighed at the clothes flung on the floor, the window shades pulled down and fastened, and Wendy, huddled in a chair in front of her TV. He crossed the cluttered room and blocked her view. “What the hell is going on?”

“Which part of ‘no’ didn’t you understand? Get out.” She tried to rise from the chair and he shot out a hand, catching her shoulder. She shrugged him off. “Let go, damn it.”

Denn squatted to get a better look at her face. Dark circles, pale skin, hair she probably hadn’t brushed in a week. She kept her eyes downcast and wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I want to know what you think you’re doing.”

“I’m sick.” She yanked her shoulder from his grasp in an attempt to escape, and he slapped his hands on the armrests, pinning her in place.

“Denn, I’m getting really pissed off.”

“Yeah, so am I.” He held firmly to the chair, giving her no choice but to sit. “Now, I need a few answers. For starters, you can tell me why you felt the need to confront Kendall at the store. Then, you can also explain why the hell I had to serve your guests the other day when you tore off and left chili slopped all over your kitchen.”

“I don’t owe you any explanations, Nulo. You’re not my boss, my father, or my husband. You’re nothing to me.” Now her head jerked up and her eyes blazed as they raked him.

Sick, my ass.
He’d put an end to this nonsense, right now.

“I’m your friend, goddamn it,” Denn retorted. “You threaten people, abandon your paying guests. You cause Eloise to miss the only vacation she gets to take by making up some story about being too sick to manage your own business. She’s in
your
kitchen, cooking and cleaning to keep it all running for you. I want some answers.”

Wendy brought her fist up to punch him, but he dodged before it could connect with his face. When her other hand flew toward his eyes, he nabbed her wrists. “Knock it off, Wendy! You’ll hurt yourself.” He held her as gently as he could and hoped she wouldn’t end up with bruises.

“You son of a bitch, leave me alone. Go back to your little girlfriend.” Wendy wrenched away, caught him off-guard as she tumbled out of the chair. They both landed on the floor.

He grunted impatiently, then forced her arms to cross over her body, and restrained her, back to front. “What’s gotten into you? Am I going to have to toss your ass in jail?”

She squirmed harder, and he flung a leg over her knees to keep from getting kicked in the nuts. “Jesus. So help me, if you don’t cut it out—”

“What’ll you do? Beat me up? Toss me aside, the way Nulty did? Go ahead, I’m used to it.” Her struggles grew with each word she spoke, until she thrashed beneath him.

“Okay, that’s
enough.
”
With difficulty, he managed to unclip the handcuffs from his belt and snapped them on her wrists. While she screeched and cursed, he dragged her to her feet, marched her over to her bed, and used a short hobble to fasten the handcuffs to the closest bedpost.