Unsafe Haven (26 page)

“I suggest you unlock the door, my angel. Let me in. Or I slice her open and leave her in the dirt with her intestines spilling out.” His voice floated over the air, deep, velvet-smooth tones she still heard in her nightmares, whispering in her ear as his hands tightened around her neck . . .

She shook her head hard to dispel the hated image, just as Wendy’s scream cut through the silence. Kendall jumped and, helpless to stop herself, stepped to the window, a hand clapped over her mouth to hold in the cry bubbling in her throat.

He’d stabbed Wendy in the thigh. She lay on the ground, clutching her leg, sobbing wildly.

Conroy bent and wiped the bloody knife on Wendy’s pants. “Not fast enough, Angel. Let me in. Or I’ll do it again.”

From the ground, Wendy managed to prop herself on one hand, and cried out, “No, don’t let him, please, don’t let him—”

“I told you to shut up.” Conroy lashed out with one foot, and, aiming for her injured side, kicked her. She collapsed limply.

He examined his manicure, buffed his nails on his jacket sleeve, then twirled the knife in his fingers. “What’s your decision, Angel? Let me in, or watch me carve her into pieces. Make up your mind. Although I suppose there’s no love lost between you. After all, you’re fucking her boyfriend.” His eyes burned through the glass, straight into hers, as if he knew exactly where she stood on the other side of the door.

She couldn’t hold back her cry of dismay, and Conroy heard it. He chuckled as he moved closer to the door. “Oh, she did. She called me. Told me all about your new life, here in wild, untamed Alaska. New store, new lover. You think you’re all grown up now, don’t you? But are you mature enough to assume responsibility for seeing your fellow man—or woman, in this case—killed, knowing it’s your fault?”

He took another step, then another, until she swore she could smell his expensive cologne, the same kind her father used to wear. Desolate tears slid down her cheeks and soaked the collar of her shirt. She’d never wanted her parents more desperately than she did right then, right there.

Conroy tapped his fingers against the window glass. “Let me in, and I won’t kill her. Come with me now, and I promise you we’ll have the most perfect life. You’ll want for nothing, darling Victoria.” He stepped back, crouched over Wendy’s prone body, and lifted her arm. He poised the knife against her wrist, and repeated, “Let me in, or she bleeds out.”

Kendall slumped against the door. She had Luna to think of, to protect. And yet, a woman’s life lay heavy on her conscience. She couldn’t let Wendy die. And terrified beyond belief didn’t begin to describe the thought of a future with Conroy.

I can’t. Lord, help me, but I can’t let him take me.

“Oh, one more thing, Angel . . . I know who your fella is. Chief Denn Nulo, correct? I can find him, very easily and very quickly. Persist in this childishly rebellious behavior, and after I gut the average-looking Miss Chang, I’ll go after your lover and kill him until he’s quite thoroughly dead.” The words, uttered in his smooth, deep voice, stabbed at her.

Oh, God. God.

Denn.

With shaking fingers, Kendall reached for the deadbolt and slid it open.

Denn took the turn for Puffin Circle too fast and the heavy Suburban tilted, threatening to curb on two wheels. Those five miles to The Post had never seemed so far away, as they did when his heart remained lodged in his throat and he prayed he’d make it in time.

If the bastard harmed one hair on Kendall’s head, he was a dead man. Denn growled under his breath as he sped the last mile.

Herington was a dead man, anyway, for what he’d already done to her and her family. Just the thought of Kendall having to face her worst nightmare froze the blood in his veins.

In the distance he could see The Post’s parking lot, empty but for two vehicles: Kendall’s truck and Wendy’s black Jeep.

What the hell is Wendy doing here?

With no time to puzzle it out, Denn cut around the side of the store, avoiding the entrance and its wide windows. The rear apartment had a door that opened into the stockroom. Nulty always kept it locked, and Denn had no idea if Kendall even knew it was there. He’d break a window if he had to.

He parked and exited his vehicle in a crouch, then, gun drawn, headed for the door. He knelt and tried the handle, cursing when he found it locked. He fished his key ring out of his pocket even though he knew the key to The Post hung on a goddamn hook at the station.

Wiping the sweat from his face, he dug in another pocket and came up with the miniscule toolkit Luna had put in his Christmas stocking one year. He’d laughed at the silly-looking thing, and joked if he ever needed to break into the Keebler Elf tree, he’d have the right tools. Now, the tiny kit might just save the day. Denn selected a thin screwdriver and set to work.

Kendall shivered, afraid to let her attention drift for a single second. She’d been desperately relieved to see Wendy still breathed. But her sprawled body hadn’t moved since Conroy pulled her over the threshold and left her in a heap on the floor like so much trash. Blood covered Wendy’s light blue cropped pants, seeping from the wound he’d inflicted on her thigh. Kendall had never seen a face so drained of life.

In the dimness, Conroy smiled at her as charmingly as if he stood in a country club ballroom holding a snifter of brandy, instead of a knife with blood on its blade. Flirty, debonair, a hint of
let’s-see-what’s-what
mischief curled his lips, showcasing his straight, white teeth. He’d have pulled it off, if his eyes weren’t so cold and dead.

“Well, this is rather . . . revolting. You, the owner of a tacky souvenir shop. Probably living in one of those dismal cabins I spotted on the way to this godforsaken place.” He stepped toward her, gesturing with the knife. “Collect your purse, darling. It’s time to leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Kendall’s voice shook as violently as her body, but she stood her ground.

He raised his eyebrows mockingly. “Aren’t you brave all of a sudden? I admire bravery.” He took another step, rolling the knife handle between his fingers. “Or should I say, in men, I admire bravery. In women, I like to choke it out of them.”

Her knees threatened to buckle. The unbidden image of the last time she stared into his blank, soulless eyes, while he strangled her swept over her so suddenly, she had to force back a scream. She couldn’t live through another experience like that.

If he gets his hands on me, I’m dead.

Trembling, she eased away, praying the shadowed interior would hide her movement as she tried to get her bearings. They stood in an open area, but nearby several circular racks held clothing she could dodge behind. Beyond the racks, shelves containing an assortment of birch burl bowls and ulu knives offered her a decent opportunity to gain a weapon. The curved, semi-circular knives weren’t easy to handle, but the display model sported a wickedly sharp blade. If she could reach it, she might have a chance.

Fright made her knees knock together, yet she couldn’t stop herself from confronting him. “You’re a bastard and a monster. You killed my parents.” She hated her unsteady voice.

His pale gray eyes flared with rage, and his hand clenched around the knife handle until his knuckles whitened. “If I were you, I wouldn’t be insulting me right now. I know ways to hurt you that even a doctor couldn’t spot on an x-ray.” He pointed the sharp tip toward her face. “Then again, what’s a little blood between friends?”

His words were meant to terrify, and they did. Conroy lived off fear and the anguish of those he believed were inferior. For the first time in her life Kendall understood the true meaning of ‘sociopath.’

An uncontrollable, hopeless moan rose in her throat.

As Denn wrestled with the stubborn lock, the door suddenly swung open, hitting him in the face and knocking him on his ass. He leapt up with his gun out, cupped in both hands. And stared, shocked, into the face of his baby sister.

“Luna?”

She tumbled out of the open doorway and into his arms, and Denn hastily dropped the gun to catch her.

Luna burst into tears as she wound herself around him. “Kennie’s in trouble and she made me lock myself in the apartment and I heard voices and crying, and—”

“Shh, everything’s going to be okay, Luney-Boo.” He brushed the sweat-dampened hair out of her eyes, noting the deep circles under each one. “You’re sick, aren’t you?”

She nodded frantically. “I need my insulin. I feel awful.”

Denn laid a hand against her forehead. Her skin was damp and clammy and her color was off. He dug in his pocket and came up with a few pieces of hard candy. He unwrapped both and placed them in her hand. “Here. Suck on these.”

As she popped them in her mouth, he nudged her toward the Suburban. “I want you to lock yourself in, okay? Get down on the floor in the back and stay there. Lock all the doors. I’m going to go help Kennie.” He kissed her forehead. “Go on, now. It’ll be all right. We’ll get you your medicine quick as a wink, I promise.”

“Okay.” She gave him one last, frightened look, before she stumbled to the Suburban and climbed in. He waited until he heard the locks engage before he picked up his gun and eased through the doorway.

“Roy, listen to me.” Kendall forced the words through her chattering teeth. “You can’t get out of here by driving. There’s nowhere to go.” Reasoning with him might be a waste of time, but she had to try.

He cocked his head curiously, a pose she remembered from her teenage years, when he’d pretended to be the endearing, honorary uncle.
To trick me and my parents. Make us think he was part of the family.

Her eyes closed on sudden tears she couldn’t squeeze back. Some weaknesses scored points with monsters like Roy Herington. Others just made him mad.

Conroy offered another of his charming smiles. “Dearest Victoria, you don’t have to worry over how we’ll be leaving this ridiculous place. I’m never without means. You should know that by now.” Abruptly, his smile faded. “Have I ever told you how much I loathe your little nickname for me? It was cute when you were fifteen, but I’m not ‘Uncle Roy’ any longer, am I?” He sidled closer, another six inches. “I’m the man you’re going to marry, as soon as we can find someone qualified to perform the nuptials.”

His cold gray eyes gave her green golf shirt and jeans a disdainful once-over. “That’s a horrid outfit you’re wearing, Angel. Surely you have something better.” He tapped his finger against his lip. “Something pink, hmm? I can’t take you out in public wearing anything so ghastly.” He stepped closer, brought the knife up to eye level, and touched the very tip to her left nostril. “Take off the shirt.
Now.
”

“Please, don’t . . .” Kendall hatred herself for begging. She shook so hard her teeth chattered. It took all of her strength to clench them until they stilled.

He tsked. “Darling, as much as I’d like for us to consummate our pledge to each other, there simply isn’t time. I merely want to see pink on your lovely body. Is that too much to ask?” Conroy flicked his eyes toward the nearest rack, one that held women’s hoodies and vests.

With his free hand he pulled the hideous hot pink hoodie Wendy had found, the garment Kendall hated most. He held it up and examined it, then smiled. “This will do. Hoodies are all the rage with the younger set, aren’t they? Put it on.” He threw it at her.

She barely caught it with her numbed fingers and managed to slip one stiff arm partway into the sleeve.

“Uh-uh, Angel. Not over that disgusting green atrocity you’re wearing. Put it on next to your lovely skin.” Conroy took another step closer. The knife tip scored her nose. As he examined the thin smear of blood on the blade, Kendall gave an agonized moan, shaking her head in denial of what she had no control over. Undress? In front of him?

God, no
.

Then all the strength seemed to leave her body when she felt the warmth of her own blood trickling from her nose and gathering at the corner of her mouth.

“Lick it off, Angel. We wouldn’t want bloodstains, would we? Someone might think you’re in jeopardy instead of accompanying your loving fiancé.”

“N—no.”

He frowned. “I said,
lick it off.
And remove that fucking ugly shirt. Or I’ll cut you again.”

Her fingers trembling violently, Kendall fumbled with the hem of her shirt as she extended her tongue and brushed at the blood crusting along her lip. The metallic taste gagged her. Tears she couldn’t control slid down her cheeks.

Conroy watched every move she made. His eyes glittered in the dimness as she finally got the shirt off one arm and over her head. The greedy breath he inhaled frightened her almost as much as the look on his face. The shirt slid from her other arm and fell to the floor. She stood in her lacy bra, shuddering, exposed and terrified, far past anything Conroy had ever made her feel.

“Beautiful Victoria.” His possessive gaze raked over her. “You’re more lovely than even my fertile imagination could envision.” The hoarse rasp in his voice snapped her out of her horror-induced fog, and she hurriedly tugged on the hoodie, zipping it up as fast as her chilled fingers could move.

He gave an exaggerated sigh. “A shame, hiding all that loveliness. Well, no matter. I’ll be enjoying it soon enough, won’t I?” With a wink, Conroy lifted a lock of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers, then tucked it behind her ear. She had to grit her teeth hard to keep from screaming.

Like quicksilver, his mood changed and became businesslike. “Let’s go, Angel. Our transportation awaits and the evening’s not getting any younger.” He grasped her arm and pulled her toward the door.

Kendall strained against his hold, her resistance no match for his determination. “Th-there’s no way out of here. No roads.”

Swinging her around to face him, Conroy’s voice dropped to a conspiring whisper. “I know all about the deplorable lack of roads, Angel. Not to worry, I found a plane. Shame about the pilot, though.”

She sucked in a panicked breath and her legs almost collapsed beneath her. “Who—”

But she knew.

“Thom. Oh, my God.” Fresh tears filled her eyes as she clapped a shaking hand over her mouth. An image of the last time she saw him wavered in her mind. Ruddy cheeks, bright blue eyes, curly gray hair, great smile. “You killed Thom.” Her hands itched to take the knife from Conroy and slice him wide open for what he’d done to Wendy, and now, Thom.

“Yes, I suppose I did. And this conversation is boring.” He yanked her hard against his side. “We’re leaving. Try anything at all, and I’ll do far more than leave a few scratches on your nose. I’ll get creative and disfigure you severely.” He pressed the flat edge of the knife to her lips. “I’d hate to lose all this beauty, but you’re not my perfect innocent little girl any longer, are you?”

Conroy slid his mouth along her ear, and she shuddered in revulsion. “You dirtied yourself up. You ruined your body, so it’s only fair I ruin your face. I’ll just have to remember not to look down when I’m fucking you.” He licked her ear as her knees buckled.

He snorted impatiently. “For Christ’s sake, grow a spine.” He forced her to stand, and clamped his arm around her waist. “You’d think I intend to murder you instead of exercising my marital rights. You’ll live through it, I’m sure. And, if for any reason you don’t”—he shrugged—“then I’ll at least have the satisfaction of knowing I screwed my wife to death.”

With those horrifying words, he hauled her toward the door.

Denn moved carefully through the dark storeroom, using his free hand to guide his way around stacked boxes and other floor hazards. The blackness would have been absolute, if not for the door Luna had left partially open. He stepped around clutter with as light a foot as he could manage in his boots, and tiptoed into the kitchen.

Beyond the apartment, he heard nothing to indicate his quarry’s location. Kendall and Wendy could be tied together and facedown on the floor as Herington plotted his next move.

Or they could already be gone. Or worse.

Shut the fuck up.
A defeatist attitude wouldn’t help anyone right now. Kendall would figure out a way to stall the bastard. He had to believe it.

Denn’s boot scraped against the kitchen doorway and he froze, worried the slight noise might have traveled into the store. The ensuing silence didn’t reassure him. He sat on the floor and removed his boots, then set them aside. He slid along on hands and knees to avoid floor creaks. When he reached the door, he examined the lock. The deadbolt and knob would turn without a sound, but the door itself might creak.

I have to chance it.

Holding his breath, he eased aside the deadbolt and turned the knob. Both gave noiselessly, and he sagged in relief. Mouthing a prayer, he pulled the door open a few feet and wriggled through.

Kendall’s fuddled brain yelled at her to fight back, even as her feet dragged along the floor. Conroy pinned one of her arms at her side, but her other hand found enough freedom to curl her fingers and raise them toward his face. Adrenaline rushed through her body as she realized she had one chance left to escape. With a shriek, she clawed him.

His furious roar drowned out the scream she uttered when his knife slashed her shoulder. Blood welled and poured down her arm, but she didn’t let go. Her nails dug deeper, four furrows in his cheek, which made him howl anew.