Unsafe Haven (25 page)

Conroy brushed a streak of dust from his tailored slacks and hissed a curse under his breath to see gravel and dirt encrust his shoes, ruining the buttery-soft leather.
I should send the State of Alaska a bill for wardrobe replacement.

He consulted his watch. Someone from the Four Hills Inn should be there soon to collect him, maybe even that easily manipulated innkeeper, Ms. Chang. He hoped so, for she’d come in handy when the time came to confront Victoria. His girl would rather suffer untold horrors, than to be the cause of another’s misery.

Conroy pushed a final crate into place. He had to hurry. The idiotic Ms. Chang or one of her flunkies might get here any minute. He couldn’t linger. But as he turned toward the little jet, he thought about checking around the cockpit to see if there might be a weapon of some kind. Maybe a gun. Pilots faced dangers when they landed in remote places, didn’t they? Surely even a dolt like Thom Banks would keep a gun or even a knife handy. Conroy climbed back into the cockpit.

He’d just unearthed a deadly-looking hunting knife with a smooth whalebone handle, when the sound of spitting gravel alerted him. Pocketing the knife, he eased out of the cockpit and slipped noiselessly around the side of the Cessna. A black Jeep rolled to a stop near the edge of the runway, and a tall, slender woman emerged. With her Asian features, this had to be Wendy Chang.

She looked around in the lowering sunlight, shading her eyes with her hand. Conroy made her wait a few more seconds before he revealed himself. His left hand slid into his pocket as he ambled toward her, aiming for the blind side everyone had when the sun hit at just the right angle.

He pitched his voice to charm her. “Good evening.”

She turned, clearly startled, but smiled, which changed her from homely to tolerably attractive. “Mr. White? I hope you weren’t waiting long.” She held out her hand. “I’m Wendy Chang, the owner of the Four Hills Inn. Welcome to Staamat.”

Conroy took her fingers in a grip designed to make her think he’d press a gallant kiss to her knuckles. Her smile widened and softened.

Women are too damned easy to control. No wonder men grow bored so quickly.

He stifled a resigned sigh and tightened his hold on her hand. She stepped closer, her dark eyes taking on a cast of puzzlement at his silence. Conroy spun her around and pulled her close, back to front, pinning her arms to her sides. He flipped the knife from his pocket and held it to the vulnerable pulse in her neck. She offered no struggle, but she did tremble quite badly. Conroy pressed against her deliberately, letting her feel his sudden excitement. She whimpered.

There it is, that sweet first second of fear. Delectable.

He placed his lips to her ear. “I’ll kill you without hesitation.” He kept his voice charmingly pleasant. “I’ll gut you and think nothing of it, unless you do exactly what I say. Do you understand? Don’t speak, just nod, once.”

She obeyed him immediately.

Conroy smiled in approval. “You’re a smart woman, Miss Chang.” He tightened his arm. “How far is it to The Last Outfitter Post?”

By her increased tremors, she must have—finally—realized his identity, and his smile grew. “No more than two words, Wendy. Tell me.”

She croaked them out in a thin, shaky voice. “Ten miles.”

“Excellent.” He lifted her off her feet and carried her to the Jeep, his knife still poised to do damage should she put up a struggle. “Take me there.”

The station phone trilled just as Denn loosened his holster. He caught the receiver on the fourth ring. “Nulo.”

“Hey, Chief, you heard from Thom?” Stevie’s voice carried a concerned tone.

“No, why?” Denn reached for his holster, an automatic reaction.

“I’m at the airport. Thom’s Cessna is here but it’s parked far off the runway at an angle. You know how careful Thom is with his plane and the tarmac. I’m seeing wheel marks, deep ones, like a rookie pilot would make. And the cockpit hatch is open. The keys are gone.”

“Shit. I’m on my way.” Denn slammed the phone on the desk, then swung his holster around his waist and buckled it as he strode out the door. Something was wrong. He knew it in his gut.

In over twenty years of flying, Thom never left the cockpit unlocked. He kept the main key in the ignition at all times, and the cockpit hatch key in his wallet. He might park his plane in storage, or on the narrow runway that ran behind his house outside of Eagle River, or on any number of bush tarmacs. But the way he left it never changed.

Denn jumped into the Suburban and roared off toward the airport.

Wendy grasped the wheel with slippery, sweaty hands. Next to her, Conroy Herington relaxed in his seat, smiled, and held the tip of his knife against her ribs. He’d already cut her, high on her right side. By accident or on purpose, it didn’t matter. He’d do it again. Her panic had gone far beyond fear and shot straight to complete terror.

She’d bought some time by driving to New Mina instead of taking Puffin Circle. There was nothing to indicate the road led to New Mina. This time of year the speed limit dropped to twenty-five due to the number of moose and caribou in this area, often found trotting down the middle of the road. No one around here minded.

If she could keep this insane bastard away from The Post, and Kendall, and not get herself killed in the process, maybe she’d find some level of redemption for what she’d done.

“Driving rather slow, aren’t we? You can speed it up. In fact, I’d recommend it.” The knife bit into her side again and she flinched, uttering a moan of pain. The Jeep swerved and she hastily righted it. Tears blurred her vision. If she didn’t speed up, he’d keep hurting her.

Once he discovers we’re nowhere near The Post, he’ll probably kill me.

She increased her speed by three miles an hour, hit a deep pothole, and swerved again. The Jeep bumped over the rough ground, jarring both of them. His knife slipped and came close to slicing her thigh. He cursed and righted himself, pressing the knife against her throat. Her eyes flickered sideways in a morbid need to look at him, then she wished she hadn’t when she saw the fury on his face.

“Are you deaf? Drive faster.” The knife nicked her throat.

She bit back a scream. “I can’t drive any faster on these roads. Please don’t hurt me, I’m doing the best I can—”

“Obviously not, since we don’t seem to be in Staamat any longer.” His mild comment was at odds with the hand he slapped on her throat over the nick he’d made. He squeezed until she gasped for air. “Pull over.”

“Please—”

“
Pull over.
” His thumb pressed against her windpipe and she gagged, but managed to ease off the gas. The Jeep stuttered to a stop at the side of the road. She threw it into ‘park’ and collapsed over the wheel, sobbing.

“Oh, shut up. You’re not hurt. A few tiny cuts. I’ve suffered worse shaving.” He twisted his hand in her hair and yanked her head back, until her tear-filled eyes met his. She’d never known male beauty could hide such evilness. It was the most frightening thing she’d ever experienced.

“Let’s regroup, shall we?” He raised the knife to her face and pointed the tip at her horrified eyes. “I just read a small, badly lettered sign that says we’re two miles from New Mina. I vaguely recall looking at a map and seeing a New Mina, right on the river. I’m not sure which river, nor do I give a good goddamn. Here’s what we’re going to do.” He brought the knife closer, and closer. Until the very tip touched the vulnerable skin under her eye.

She held her breath in an attempt to keep from making the tiniest movement.

In a conversational voice, he said, “You’ll turn this inferior piece of shit you call a vehicle around, and take me to The Last Outfitter Post. Immediately. For every delay you attempt, I’ll cut you. If your reaction to being cut causes you to swerve off the road, hit another pothole or land in a ditch, I’ll stab you, nice and deep. Or I might carve off your ear. Your nose. I’m not choosy.”

Absolute terror swamped Wendy, and she felt herself slipping under, losing all sense of self—

A sharp, agonizing sting brought her from the brink of unconsciousness as he sliced her cheek open. The pain was unbearable. Her lips parted on a scream.

As if from a distance, she heard him. “Wake up, you fucking bitch, and
drive.
”

Kendall held the skirt against her, turned to the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, and groaned. She’d forgotten what a bad job she’d done when she’d shortened and hemmed it last year. Why on earth had she even brought it with her? Over half the skirt hung at an angle. Sighing, she bunched it up and threw it in the trash. If she tried to even it out, with her lack of sewing talent, she’d wind up with a belt.

Well, back to the closet.

She wanted to look especially nice for Denn this evening. Their past few days together had been wonderful, but his marriage proposal hung between them, still unanswered. Since he’d asked her, she’d thought of little else.

Sooner or later he’d push for her to move in with him and Luna. He didn’t like her living out here and made no secret of his determination to protect her. She didn’t have a problem with that. But marriage was a hell of a big step, and she wanted it to be for love alone, not because she needed some sort of guardian. Before she made promises to Denn, she had to be certain of her own feelings, too.

Besides, Roy won’t find me. Not here. I’m safe.

She’d been smart, leaving no trail, destroying what might inadvertently lead Roy or his mother to her. She didn’t see how her former name would ever be associated with the one she used now. Nothing existed to connect Victoria Wyndham with Kendall Martin. She’d made sure of it.

Determined to banish those darker thoughts, Kendall dove into her closet for another skirt, just as the store buzzer went off. Startled, she whacked her head on a low shelf.

“Oww.” She rubbed her forehead. As she walked toward the front of the store, she flicked on a few lights. It had to be after five.

Probably a customer who’s used to Walmart hours.

She peeked out the window, then grinned as she unlocked the door and held it wide for Luna, who danced in with her usual exuberance.

Kendall shut the door. “I thought you were home, cooking my—um, cooking.” She staggered back on her heels as all five-foot-nothing of Luna wrapped around her. Kendall gave her a loving snuggle. “You’re sweaty. You didn’t walk, did you?”

“Nope, I borrowed Jeffie’s ten-speed. It’s been a
boring
day. I wanted to come out sooner, but Denn made me clean the house.” Luna clutched her neck and made rude choking noises. “Then I made dinner. I mean, I did some junk in the kitchen.”

Kendall eyed her with mock-suspicion. “What kind of junk?” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Did you cook for me?”

“How did you know? Aww, man. Denn told you. It was supposed to be a surprise.” Luna pouted.

“I’m very surprised. And I can’t wait to dig in.” Kendall dropped a kiss on Luna’s silky hair as she caught her close and hugged her. They swayed together silently. Words weren’t necessary, not at all. Kendall cupped Luna’s chin and raised her face, and met those pretty dark eyes.

She murmured, “Mac and cheese with wienies, all for me. You know what? You’re my doll-baby. Nothing you could do for me would ever be sweeter.”

With a sigh, Luna gripped her harder. “I love you, Kennie. Don’t ever leave, okay?”

“Oh, honey. I won’t leave, I promise. I love you, too.” Kendall’s eyes stung with unexpected tears.

“Do you love Denn? ‘Cause he’s really,
really
nuts for you.”

Kendall released a watery chuckle. “Yes, I really, really love your goofy brother.” She stepped back and caught one of Luna’s hands. “Now, come help me figure out what to wear tonight and let’s get out of here before Denn eats all my mac and cheese.”

“Okay.” Luna swung their clasped hands together, carefree and casual again.

They’d taken a few steps toward the back of the store and the apartment when the lights flickered and went out.

Luna emitted a nervous giggle, even as her hand tightened on Kendall’s. “Kennie, did you do that?”

“No.” Kendall frowned. “And I just paid my fuel bill. I should be good for another three months.”

“Maybe your generator’s on the fritz.”

“Maybe.” But a sudden, niggling sense of something-not-right made the fine hairs on her neck rise. “Stay here.” She released Luna’s hand and moved quietly through the store until she reached the window closest to the entrance. The blinds had already been lowered for the evening. She peered through the slats.

And gasped at the sight that met her stunned eyes. Her stomach clenched, a sickening roil.

Oh, no. NO!

“Anything?” Stevie called to Denn.

“Not a damn thing. This isn’t like Thom, to fly in and not call or come down to the station. Look.” Denn pointed at the wheel tracks in the gravel, which dug in at least three inches. “He could land on a tarmac covered in feathers and not disturb them.” He nudged the open cockpit hatch. “I don’t know what to think.”

“Me, neither.” Stevie took his cap off and raked his fingers through his hair. He turned in a slow circle and shook his head. “My gut tells me bad things, Chief.”

“Yeah, so does mine.” Denn stepped to the side of the Cessna and examined the outer hull, searching for anything unusual. He returned to the hatch, crouched near the wheels and ran his hand over their surface, but found nothing out of the ordinary.

Then, he saw it. He bent closer to the ground and touched the gravel. There were long swathes where the stones had been disturbed, then smoothed over. He blinked and stared beyond the door, toward one of the older Quonset huts, a dinged-up, rusted eyesore the town badly needed to replace.

Those strange marks led right to the front door of the hut.

“Stevie, get over here.” Denn strode to the door and yanked on the handle. “Damn it.” The deadbolt was unsecured but the doorknob itself was locked. As Stevie hurried over, Denn pointed his gun and shot the knob off. Stevie slammed his foot against the door and kicked it in.

Inside, the dimness couldn’t hide the body slumped in the corner. “Jesus, it’s Thom.” Denn reached him first and placed two fingers against his neck. “He’s got hardly any pulse. Call Pet and Bills, tell them to hurry.” Stevie nodded and ran back to the Suburban.

Denn tapped Thom’s pallid face. “Thom, can you hear me? Damn it, wake up!” He tapped harder and got a weak gasp from the injured man.

“Hurt . . .” Thom rasped.

“Who did this to you?” Denn supported Thom’s head and held him steady when he gagged and vomited weakly. Thom lay back, wheezing.

“F-fare. Picked him up in Anc. Christ it hurts, hurts . . .” His eyes rolled back, showing white.

“No, come on, hang in there. Give me a name, hair and eyes, something. Come on, Thom.”

A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of Thom’s mouth as he tried to speak. His head lolled against Denn’s arm. He’d passed out again.

“Thom! Goddamn it!” Denn checked his pulse again. Thready and barely there. The blood was a bad sign, possibly indicative of internal bleeding. Forcing down the panic, he slapped Thom’s cheeks and managed to rouse him. Thom came to with a feeble cough.

“Give me something, anything, buddy. Come
on
,” Denn urged.

“Blond . . .” Thom choked and spit up more blood. “Con—”

“What? Con man? You got taken by a con man?” Denn urged.

“Con . . . nor.” Thom slumped as he lost consciousness.

“
Shit
. Thom, you hang on, damn it!” Denn pleaded even as he tried to make sense of what Thom said.
Blond hair. Connor . . . Con.

Then he blanched as a terrible suspicion nearly stopped his heart.

“Ah, Christ.” As he laid Thom gently on the floor, he bellowed, “Stevie!”

His deputy came running. “Pet’s on the way—”

Denn yanked at Stevie’s arm and pulled him to the floor. “Stay with him.” He leapt to his feet and tore out of the hut toward his Suburban.

“Go in the back and lock the door.” Kendall gave Luna a push. “Hurry.”

“What is it?”

“Go. Don’t let anyone in. Double lock the door, you hear me?” She shook Luna’s shoulder. “Go, now!” As Luna ran toward the apartment, Kendall spun and hit the deadbolt, sliding the heavy lock home. She sank against the wall, her heart pounding furiously.

What in God’s name am I going to do?
She chanced another peek from the edge of the window and bit back a sob.

Wendy swayed on her feet in front of the door. Blood edged a cut on her neck and dripped from a gash on her cheek. More blood pooled against the side of her white tee shirt. She stared, glassy eyed, obviously in shock. And, standing next to her in a casual pose, not a hair out of place, was Conroy Herington. With one hand, he gripped Wendy’s arm and the other held a vicious-looking knife to her throat.

The charming smile on his face chilled her.

Kendall uttered a terrified moan as she looked into eyes she prayed she’d never see again. Wide, pale gray, framed in lush eyelashes. Beautiful, completely cold dead eyes, like those of a shark. No emotion, no conscience. She shuddered violently.