Oliver jerked awake, uncertain what had startled him until he saw that Jackeroo had come to full alert and was staring at the house. That meant his partner had seen or heard something.
He checked the front first. The security lights were still on so there’d been no loss of power. The gate was still closed. From what he could see, nothing stirred within. All windows were dark.
“What do you hear, old man?” He sat up, stroking his partner. Then he realized it was really quiet. The wind had died to mere breaths of energy. Rain was now a soft drizzle that silently ran down the car windows. The distant flickers of lightning no longer seemed a threat. It felt as if the night was exhausted, or taking a time-out.
He scotched the impulse to text Macayla. She would probably tear him a new one for waking her. He really did wish she had let him stay with her. Too many things were going on that pointed to trouble, though he couldn’t tell from which direction yet.
This strange new feeling of wanting to be with her constantly hadn’t eased since he’d come back to St. Petersburg. It wasn’t just the carnal hunger she aroused in him. That was good, yeah. But Macayla’s company was good, too.
A line from an old-school song ran through his thoughts. He couldn’t quite pull it together. Something about wanting to make love with one’s clothes on. It had never made sense to him before. But being with Macayla made him feel damn close to that emotion. When she touched him, just the easiest gesture, it registered all the way down to his dick. He didn’t need to be balls-deep inside her to feel the connection that had always eluded him outside the bedroom, backseat, beach, wherever he’d loved a woman. With Macayla any and everything was entertaining. Happiness was as simple as watching a smile develop on her cute face. Hers was the nicest face he’d ever seen.
But he needed to be careful. The emotions so new to him were bursting out of him. He’d made a mistake earlier today when she’d asked him why he was turning down work. He’d recovered enough to say it was because she was in trouble. He saw that that’s not what she wanted to hear. But the real answer was more intimidating, for him.
I think you might be the most important relationship in my life since I fell for Sharon Jumbuck when I was twelve, that time we went to Alice Springs.
That was pathetic, even if it was true. He didn’t want to scare her off. They’d spent less than four full days in each other’s company. But he wasn’t going to skip out on whatever this was until he figured out whatever this was. And that was going to take time, and effort, and tenaciousness.
He looked at Jackeroo. “We need to buy property in St. Petersburg. Yeah?”
Jackeroo tilted his head to one side, his concentration broken for the moment.
“Yeah, that sounds way too stalker-y at this point. Keep Macayla out of jail. First priority. House shopping later. Maybe next week.”
Jackeroo’s ears suddenly pricked forward and he stood up, facing the house.
That’s when Oliver heard it. The sound that Jackeroo, with his better hearing, had probably been tracking for several minutes. The distant sound of a boat on the bay. It was coming their way, humming in the dark like an annoying mosquito.
The engine sounded too light to be the Coast Guard or marine police. More likely a sport boat. Who was out on a night like this? Some young fool. Those who knew coastal weather would know better than to go out in a small boat after a major storm, when the bay would remain rough for hours after. Add in the darkness and the jackass was risking an accident. Or worse, drowning.
Just when he thought about getting out to check on where it was headed, the motor died.
Jackeroo sat down, his paws dancing impatiently on the seat.
“You need a walk?” Oliver reached for the leash then thought better of it. No one would care about a bit of poop on a lawn. In weather like this it would be washed away.
He opened the door and let Jackeroo out. The rain didn’t seem quite as light once he was out in it. He whistled to his partner for a walk, hoping to get it over quickly.
But Jackeroo had other ideas. The shepherd ran over to the security gate and stood, staring through the bars.
“What’s up? You missing Macayla, too? Come on. I’m getting soaked. We’ll find a way to get her to let us stay tomorrow.” But as he turned away, a light went on upstairs.
He paused. Macayla making a middle-of-the-night bathroom run? Probably.
But Jackeroo began to whine and paw the gate. Not like him to be needlessly concerned.
Oliver stood and stared at the light from a single window. And he waited. Finally he saw a shadow move past. Tall and thin. Not Macayla.
Jackeroo began to bark, sharp sounds of alarm.
Oliver waited, uncertain of what to do. Then he pulled out his phone and called Macayla’s number. The phone rang and rang. But no answer.
Something was wrong. Jackeroo knew it before he did. But he had no idea what it could be. He started to press the security code to the gate she’d given him but realized that it would be heard within the house. If something serious was wrong, he didn’t want to tip off anyone that he was here.
Instead, he reached own and lifted Jackeroo up to the top of the stucco wall, then hoisted himself up and vaulted over. He lifted Jackeroo down.
“Quiet.” He gave his partner the no bark hand sign.
Jackeroo moved quickly but quietly to the pair of glass front doors.
Oliver reached them in time to see Macayla walking past and then a second figure followed. Tall, dressed for the weather. Short hair. A man. But it was the silhouette of a hand holding a gun that sent his heart into overdrive.
Something raw and powerful swept through him. He didn’t know how or why. But the details didn’t matter at the moment. Someone had gotten to Macayla. The boat! That’s what Jackeroo had heard. The intruder must have come from the bay, the only way that wasn’t guarded by security.
He pulled out his phone and called 911, asking to be patched through to the city’s marine police. His words were simple. Abduction. By boat. He gave the location. Hurry.
His hands tightened into fists as he resisted punching in the code to the door. The noise would alert the man on the inside to Oliver’s presence. He watched, drawing careful breaths until they reached the back door. They were going out into the night.
He gritted his teeth and waited. A guy with a gun would be nervous. He didn’t want Macayla shot because he acted too soon. But sweat popped on his upper lip, and his teeth lost a fair amount of enamel as he watched them exit onto the patio. He didn’t have a weapon but he’d find something once he was through the door. Kitchens were always good for a nice sharp blade.
The minute they were outside, he punched in the code, heard the beep, and was through the door.
Lightning reflected on the water gave the great room its only illumination, but beyond the windows he could see Mac and her abductor talking. No, arguing.
And then Macayla was lunging for the gun.
A coarse cry tore from Oliver’s throat as lightning flashed.
He thought he heard a shot but it was too late. Macayla had disappeared off the edge of the pier.
He tore thought the house as the man jumped into the boat and cast off.
He yelled a warning as he reached the beginning of the pier, but the boat had roared to life and was moving away.
Something squeezed tight inside him as he looked out over the water. Had Macayla gone in, or was she on the boat? He didn’t know.
Then he realized Jackeroo was no longer beside him. Had he leaped into the water after Macayla?
It took him two agonizing seconds to notice that the dark hump at the back of the fast-disappearing boat was Jackeroo.
“Shit.”