Chapter 1
“Your father is missing.”
Devon Cole tightened her grip on her cell phone and tried to make sense of what Sheridan March had just told her, as fear swept through her. Maybe she hadn’t heard right.
“What do you mean, missing?”
“The Coast Guard found the Princess Devon drifting five miles offshore early this morning,” the Arrowhead Bay chief of police explained. “But there’s no sign of him anywhere. And no clue to anything in the house. We went through every inch of it. The alarm was fried, probably needs to be replaced, but otherwise the place was clean as a whistle.”
Devon clutched the phone. “Was there anything on the boat? Something he might have had with him that could give us a clue?”
“Nada.”
“Where’s the boat now? Would the Coast Guard hold on to it?”
“In its slip at the Bayside Marina. After the Guard went over every inch of it, they had one of the men on the cutter bring it back in and berth it. I have the keys.”
Devon swallowed to ease the tightness in her throat. “When was the last time anyone saw him?”
“Sunday,” Sheri told her. “As soon as I got the word from the Coast Guard we began checking with his friends. The last time anyone saw him was when Cash Breeland had lunch with him at the Driftwood.”
“That’s the same day I talked to him.” She rubbed her hand nervously on her jeans. “He didn’t say a word about going anywhere. Did the Moorlands say anything about seeing him?”
Ginny and Hank Moorland owned both the Driftwood Restaurant and Bayside Marina.
“Hank was in Miami for a couple of days but Ginny was there. She said she never laid eyes on him.”
“And Gary at Bayside? Did he see anything?”
Sheri made a rude noise. “I talked to him myself but he’s usually so off in his own world a marching band could have taken off and he’d never notice. I swear I don’t know why Hank doesn’t can his ass. Besides, it was a Sunday, so the marina was jammed with people arriving and leaving and some just working on their boats. He did say a couple of guys were asking about him, but he thought they were just friends.”
“Did you talk to anyone who has a boat in a slip near his?”
“The ones we could find.”
“God.” Devon tamped back the rising fear. “I can’t believe this could happen. He’s an avid sailor and very, very safety conscious.”
Her father had been sailing for as long as she remembered. When he still lived in Tampa he was out on the water every Saturday, sailing down the coast, sometimes with business associates but more often with her mother. That was how he’d discovered Arrowhead Bay. But he almost never went out during the week. Saturdays were his days on the water. And, after her mother passed away, sometimes on Sundays. It was something both her parents had enjoyed, and Devon often thought it was a way for him to recapture her presence.
“I know,” Sheri agreed. “Everyone knows that about him.”
“And the other boat?” Devon asked. “The Lady Hannah?”
“Still here. There’s not even a sign anyone was on it.” She paused. “We know he’s an excellent sailor. The Coast Guard thought maybe he’d fallen overboard, but—”
“I guess that’s possible, except he was a nut about water safety. He’d be careful.”
“That’s what I told them,” Sheri agreed.
“The Coast Guard started searching immediately, right?”
“Yes, but it’s a big ocean. They brought in another cutter to search as well as one of their Dolphin helicopters. I promise you it’s a full-out search and rescue operation. And there’s another thing.”
“What?” What else could there be?
“I don’t know if you caught it, but there was a story on the national news yesterday that Vincent Pellegrino, one of your father’s vice presidents, was killed in a one-car accident.”
Ice chilled her blood. “Are you saying the two things could be related? That my father didn’t just fall overboard?”
“I’m saying we have to look at all possibilities. This is too much of a coincidence to ignore.”
“Did you call his office? Ask his admin if he’d decided to take an unannounced vacation?”
“I did, but she knew nothing. And they are all in a turmoil over Pellegrino’s death.”
“But who would want to kill him?” Nausea bubbled up in her throat. “Either of them?”
“We don’t know, and that may not be it at all. I’ll just have to connect all the dots.”
“Holy crap, Sheri.”
“One other thing. His house was meticulously clean, as if someone had gone through and sanitized it. But—this is weird—his computer was on his desk but the internal hard drive has been removed.”
“What? What the hell?”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“What about the external hard drive? It should be right next to it.”
“Nada,” Sheri told her. “Gone, gone, gone.”
Even as she tried to dial back the sick feeling creeping through her, Devon was already dragging her suitcase out and pulling things out of her drawers and closet. She ran through her mind all the projects she had in process, which could be put on hold, who she needed to try to renegotiate deadlines with.
“I’m coming down there right now. I can’t just sit here and wait around. I’ll finish packing as soon as we hang up and be on the road right away.”
“Good. I think you need to be here. Corporate is sending some people down here and I know they’ll want to talk to you, too. Call me or come see me as soon as you get here.” Sheri paused. “We’re all over it, Devon. I just wish we had more to go on.”
“I know. It’s just…” Just that she’d already lost one parent and didn’t know if she could deal with losing another. “I think I’ll go to the house first and take a look around.”
“Sounds good. I’ll wait to hear from you.”
The minute she hung up from Sheri’s call, she packed the suitcase and threw it and her computer stuff into her car. Less than thirty minutes later she was headed south from Tampa on Interstate 75. She alternated between the threat of tears and full-blown panic as the conversation replayed like a looping tape in her head as she ate up the miles.
While she drove, she kept trying to reach her father. She had both the cell phone and the house phone on speed dial, but she got nothing. Where the hell was he? She’d been on the road for about an hour when her cell rang. The readout showed Sheri’s name so she pushed the remote button to answer.
“Have you found him?” she asked, forgoing any kind of greeting.
“I wish. No, I just wanted to give you a heads-up.”
Now what?
“What’s going on?”
“We’ve got a couple of reporters sniffing around here, asking about your father’s disappearance.”
“How did they find out so fast?” Devon asked.
“A million ways. This is the age of the Internet. Maybe they were after your father to ask him about the death of his executive. I wouldn’t put it past them to rent a boat and go check on the search.”
“Damn, damn, damn.” Devon pounded a fist against the steering wheel.
“You said it,” Sheri agreed. “Anyway, I’ll bet anything the first story will hit the newspaper tomorrow and they’re looking for more details.”
“Oh my God. Sheri, I can’t talk to them now.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep them off your back. But it’s possible if they give it a big play, someone seeing it might remember something.”
“You’re right,” Devon agreed. “I’m just not good with stuff like that and right now my mind’s in too much of a whirl to even speak coherently. I’ll probably say the wrong thing and make the situation worse.”
“I understand. We can’t shut them out, and but I will do my best to keep them off your back for as long as I can.”
“Thanks.” Devon blew out a breath.
“If they catch you, the best thing is to tell them no comment. I’m sure they’ll hit the Cole International offices in Tampa. Just let the people there make any statements.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Don’t forget. Call me or come by as soon as you get here.”
“I will.”
She disconnected the call and stuck the phone in the console.
Great. Just great. Reporters, looking for juicy scandal about the disappearance of a business giant.
Oh, Dad, how could you do this to me?
The fact was, she’d been worried about him for the past several months. Her mother’s death five years ago had thrown him for a loop. Piled on top of that were problems with Cole International. He didn’t discuss them with her but there was a hint here and there, and he was constantly on edge. Then, suddenly things seemed to be better.
She’d missed him when he moved to Arrowhead Bay, but she understood him wanting a change. The house was filled with too many memories of her mother. Plus her father said he was tired of city living.
On the trips to the little town while he was still living in Tampa, he met people. Made friends. The times she sailed down there with him she’d gotten to know people, too, and fallen in love with the small, sleepy Southern town. He was as happy as she’d seen him since her mother died.
She’d met Sheri March at one of the many festivals the town held and they’d connected at once, becoming good friends. Through Sheri she’d met a lot of other people, including the chief’s sister, Avery, who ran a private security agency. With friends to hang with and her father almost himself again she’d begun to look forward to visiting him. He loved hearing about the growth of her graphics design business and praised her for what she accomplished.
Then he’d stopped asking her about it except on rare occasions.
She tried to pinpoint just when that had all started. Almost two years ago, she thought. The tenor of the visits had changed. He had changed, becoming more tense, edgier, sometimes even withdrawn. When she asked about it, he just brushed it off. She missed their tight relationship. They had always been close, so it bothered her more than she let on.
He was abruptly more preoccupied with the business than ever, even obsessed with its financial situation. It never made sense to her because Cole International was worth millions. Whenever she asked him what was wrong, he assured her everything was fine. Just some pesky business details, he told her, that were taking a little more of his attention.
She’d continued to make sporadic visits, hoping to recapture the tight sense of family they’d had. After all, it was just the two of them now. But no matter how hard she tried, she’d felt them drifting apart more and more. There was a wall of some kind around the man she just could not breach.
When she noticed the change in him, she tried to question Cash Breeland about it. Cash was the president of the locally owned Arrowhead Bay Bank. Devon didn’t know him all that well, but he and her father had become friends even before the big move. In fact, it was Cash who had introduced her father to friends of his and drawn him into their social circle. But Cash just downplayed her questions.
“I know your daddy’s been preoccupied some,” he drawled when she asked him to meet her for coffee. “He’s just working through some knotty business problems. With all this overseas competition, some of his units aren’t performin’ the way they should. He’ll pull out of it as soon as there’s an uptick in trade.”
But he hadn’t and now he was gone.
Missing.
The word gave birth to a lot of speculation and none of it good.
She spotted the highway signs for Arrowhead Bay and gave herself a mental shake. She needed to clear the garbage out of her head until she could find out for sure what was going on.
She took the farthest exit for the town, the one that took her to the road where her father’s house was. He had built at the far end of town in the area known as Seacliff. More land, larger homes. He liked space, he’d told her. Cole International board members and executives routinely visited him there. And from his side patio he had a magnificent view of Arrowhead Bay and the harbor.
His house was the next to last one on Seacliff Road, and in minutes the familiar gateposts came into view. She gave silent thanks that there were no reporters around. They must have taken Sheri literally. She pulled up in the driveway and shoved the car into park, then stared at the house for a long moment. Automatically she reached into the half-empty bag of red licorice bites on her console and popped a couple in her mouth.
Sitting there now, chewing on the candy, she remembered the last time she’d seen him, a little more than a month ago. Their brief conversation played out in her head.
“You’re leaving already?” He had looked up from his desk when she stopped in the doorway to the den.
“You’re busy and I have work back in Tampa to take care of.”
“I thought you brought your laptop with you.”
“I did, but I think I’d be more comfortable at home.”
For a fleeting moment, a pained expression crossed his face, one almost of sorrow.
“We should spend more time together.”
She’d nearly snorted at that. They’d always been so close, especially after her mother died, but he’d withdrawn from her.
Still, he was her father and she loved him.
Was it possible this was voluntary? Had her father chosen to disappear so completely? No. Too outrageous, she thought. He was the epitome of the corporate icon. A mover and shaker. Winner of awards. Profiled in magazines. Business school graduates used him as their aspirational model. What on earth could make a man like that choose to vanish as if he’d never existed?
Even with his changes in personality and behavior, she could say this was 100 percent unlike him. What if he’d been grabbed by someone? But who? It could be a competitor, a disgruntled employee, someone on the bad end of a business deal. She knew very little about his business dealings. Would there be a ransom request? Would they contact her or his corporation? How would she get the money if the call came to her? How—
No. Sheri hadn’t said anything about a kidnapping.
Another thought stabbed at her, one that chilled her. Had someone killed him and dumped the body overboard? But who? And why?
She would ask Sheri those questions as soon as she spoke to her again. Meanwhile, back to square one. If neither of those things turned out to be a reality, why had Graham Cole disappeared? What was going on with him?
Stop!
God, she was driving herself crazy.
She felt an unexpected rush of tears and a tightening of her throat. Despite the state of their relationship, he was her father. She still loved him and his disappearance frightened her.
Enough, missy. Get your ass into the house.
But the moment she climbed out of her car, a sudden chill raced down her spine and an ominous feeling gripped her. She stood there, gathering herself. Could a house be menacing?
Ridiculous. Stupid.
She wasn’t the type of woman given to feelings like that. She was down to earth and practical. Some might even say hardheaded, she thought with a tiny smile.
Okay. I’m here. I should go inside and see if I can find anything the police might have missed. Or that would give me some kind of clue as to what had happened, something that would mean something only to me.
Go on. Don’t be a chicken.
It was just bricks and stucco. What did she think was inside? A body? Not likely. The police had already searched the house. When she was sure she had herself under control, she hiked up the steps to the front door, for the moment leaving all her stuff in the car. As she slid the key for the front lock into place she wondered if it still worked. When the key turned and the lock clicked open, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Automatically, she reached for the alarm panel in the front hall, then remembered Sheri said it wasn’t functioning. That a whole new one would need to be installed. How very weird. It was always on.
At least the air-conditioning had been left on, a blessedly cool change from the furnace that was Florida heat in the summer. Jingling the key ring, she walked through the house, looking around, although she had no idea what she expected to find.
The house was open and airy, with a wall of windows the length of one side that looked out to the lawn and beyond that to the bay itself. Her father had hired a decorator and given her free rein. The result was a tastefully decorated home that was open and welcoming.
As she walked from room to room, the same eerie feeling that gripped her when she’d stood in front of the house swept over her again. As if something very bad happened here. The chill racing over her skin had nothing to do with the artificially cooled air. She sensed a presence of evil in the air, and kept looking over her shoulder, as if expecting someone to pop out of a closet.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. I’ve been watching too much television.
She wandered into his den, seeking any kind of clue. Framed photos of herself and her mother and the three of them sat on the credenza but the desk was uncharacteristically bare. There was nothing on it, not an open book, a stack of papers, nothing. No sign of any activity, yet this was the room where he spent much of his time. How strange. Except...
Damn. Sheri was right. The computer was on his desk but the hard drive was gone. She checked all the drawers, although she was sure the police had already done this. No hard drive, internal or external, and no laptop. She’d forgotten to ask about that. Would he have taken all that with him? What did he plan to do with all his information if he’d decided to disappear? Could he run his business if no one knew where he was?
Again that icy feeling raced over her skin, the kind you got when people told ghost stories in the dark. As if strangers had been here, and not the ones investigating Graham Cole’s disappearance. Could evil leave a sense of its presence?
Evil? Really?
Dramatic much, Devon?
She just couldn’t shake the feeling something was off.
If only she’d forced the issue, made him talk to her. Fixed whatever barriers had been thrown up between them. Maybe she’d have a clue as to what was going on.
For a moment she considered the B and B in town, but why spend money she didn’t have to? A house couldn’t harm you, right?
A loud noise from the kitchen made her pulse leap and her heart thump. She grabbed a golf club leaning against the wall, tiptoed down the hall, and peered into the room. Nothing. No one. Should she step inside? What if someone was hiding in the alcove? With the alarm system not working anyone could come into the house.
Then the noise repeated, and she blew out a breath when she realized what it was. The icemaker in the refrigerator was disgorging cubes into the container.
Devon sat down at the breakfast bar, hands still shaking, and tried to steady herself. Maybe staying here wasn’t such a good idea at all. Was she crazy to think someone had left an imprint here and it wasn’t her father?
There’s nothing here. Give your imagination a rest.
The landline on the kitchen wall rang, startling her. Who would be calling? Most of her father’s calls had come in on his cell phone. Automatically she reached for it.
“Hello?”
Dead silence.
She waited, then, “Hello? Is someone there?”
Still silence. Why did the words dead silence come to mind? Then she heard it, the faint sound of someone breathing.
“If someone is there, speak up, or else I’m hanging up this phone.”
When there was still no answer, she replaced the receiver, irritated. And troubled. She wanted to believe it was kids making prank calls, but with her father’s disappearance it took on a more ominous feeling.
Right, Devon. Make this into some big deal. A lousy phone call. Probably just some wrong number and they were too embarrassed to say anything.
Maybe. She was not someone given to flights of fancy or premonitions. If anything, she was solidly grounded and practical to a fault. Only nothing had felt right to her since she walked in the front door, and the phone call had just added to the feeling of unease. She had a sudden need to get out of there, be with noise and crowds. Her stuff could wait until later. Right now she needed to be with people. A lot of people.
She had just headed out of the kitchen when the phone rang again. With a mixture of impatience and dread she picked up the receiver.
“Hello?”
Silence again.
“Listen. Whoever you are, either talk to me or I’m hanging up. If you call again, I won’t be here.”
She slammed the receiver back in the cradle. That did it for her. She needed to get out of here and find Sheri right away.
Her stomach chose that moment to grumble, reminding her she also needed food. She’d left Tampa two hours ago with only a large Starbucks in her stomach, and said stomach was now sending her signals. She remembered the housekeeper kept the fridge and the freezer stocked with basics so she could just fix herself something if she wanted to. But the eerie feeling wouldn’t let go.
Sheri had said to call or come by as soon as she got into town, and right now seemed like a very good time to do that. Going straight to the police station seemed the best thing to do. She’d feel better seeing Sheri, anyway. Maybe she could help Devon put her feelings in perspective. The police had gone over the house thoroughly. Surely if something was out of whack, they’d have found it and told her. Something besides the jacked alarm system.
I’m just letting my mind play tricks on me. That has to be it.
Okay. That was it. She was getting out of here for a while. She’d head right for the police station and try to find out where things stood. She should have gone there right away. And she wanted to know what the latest was with the Coast Guard. The whole thing was still so unreal to her.
She walked through the house to the garage, still carrying the golf club and peeking around doors and walls. And feeling like an idiot. She found the extra remotes for the garage door and grabbed one, then hurried back through the house and out the front door. Without understanding why, she checked three times to make sure the front door was locked. She also looked carefully around as she got into her car, as if expecting to see someone peeking at her from behind the garage or one of the many massive trees that dotted the place.
Damn. If reporters might be hanging around, she’d better get that alarm fixed in a hurry. Anyone could get onto the property if they wanted to.
She wasn’t easily frightened but the whole situation spooked her. Maybe she should stay in town at the B and B until she figured out if she was needed for anything. Still, she’d be damned if she’d let anyone chase her out of her father’s house.
Seacliff Road was sparsely populated, the homes built much farther apart than those in town. There was only one house on the road past her father’s and after that was a dead end. The lack of traffic made her nervous, as did the thick growth of trees that lined the side opposite the houses. Probably no one was lying in wait for her—where had that thought come from?—but she’d feel a lot better being part of a crowd. She kept looking in her rearview mirror.
“Just in case,” she whispered.
But in case of what? Besides, who even knew she was in town? She was letting the entire situation spook her. What she needed to do was get into town and talk to Sheri face-to-face. Once she got a better read on the situation, she’d settle down. At least she hoped she would.
Just as she came to a slight curve in the road she glanced in the rearview mirror and her heart nearly stopped beating. A black SUV that seemed to have come out of nowhere rode her bumper. Oh, God! Doing her best not to panic, she gripped the wheel and pressed down harder on the accelerator, but no matter how fast she went the car kept pace with her.
She navigated the next turn, hoping she could pick up a little speed and put distance between her and whoever this was. But then she felt a jolt as the SUV hit her rear bumper, just enough to scare her. Her engine was built for economy, not speed, and no matter how hard she pressed the accelerator she couldn’t seem to outrun the vehicle riding her back end. Praying for someone to show up and help was useless. This was a thinly populated road where half the residents were snowbirds. Getting help right now was in the region of impossibilities.
In the next moment the other vehicle bumped her again, much harder, causing her car to lurch to the side. Suddenly she was losing control, no matter how she wrestled with the wheel, and she veered off the road. She came to a stop in the deep ditch that ran alongside the road. The SUV bumped her once more before it pulled up and stopped in front of her at an angle, blocking her even if she could move.
What the hell?
The first thing that popped into her mind was Vincent Pellegrino’s so-called one-car accident. Was this what happened to him? She was equal parts scared and pissed off. Scared because it was obvious whoever this was meant her no good. Pissed off because her day just kept going downhill and she was sick of it. She grabbed her cell phone, but dropped it because her hand was shaking. By then a man had climbed out of the SUV and was instantly at her side of the car. Another man appeared at the passenger side, boxing her in.
The one next to her knocked on her window, startling her so she dropped her cell phone again. She reached down to get it but the man on the driver’s side banged on her window once more.
“Open the window,” he barked in a harsh voice.
She shook her head, double-checked to make sure the doors were locked, and reached down again for her phone. The next thing she knew something hit the passenger window, hard. The window cracked and shattered into what looked like a million pebble-sized chunks that flew across the seat. Startled, she let out a little scream and pushed back as hard as she could against the seat.
The man on the driver’s side knocked on her window again.
“If you don’t want me to break this one, roll it down,” he growled.
Devon shook her head. She knew she should probably be cowering in fright, except that wasn’t her style, even in a dangerous situation. Surely someone would come along on this road, right?
She closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them, the man on her side knocked on the window again and held up an iron bar.
“I’m not going to kill you, bitch.” His voice was a low monotone, slightly accented. “Not yet. This was just to get your attention. Next time it could be your legs. Tell me where he is and I’ll leave you alone.”
“Please. I—”
“Do you hear me? Where has he gone? When you talk to him, tell him we’ll be happy to have you as our guest until he shows his face. We know where to find you.”
Devon slid her gaze from one to the other. The two men looked as if they’d kill her before breakfast and still eat a hearty meal. She opened her mouth but no words came out. She pushed back against her seat again as the man on the right started to reach through the broken window to unlock the door.
At that moment a four-door pickup zipped around the curve behind them and slowed, the driver obviously spotting the tableau on the side of the road. The truck passed both of their vehicles, then pulled over across the road and stopped. Was this backup for the two men already bent on terrorizing her or could fickle fate be sending her a savior?
* * * *
Logan Malik slammed on his brakes. On the right-hand side of the road, a car leaned into the ditch, a black SUV parked in front of it. Two men stood on either side of the car, and he could see the window on one side had been smashed out.
Logan’s instincts, created from long experience, told him they weren’t offering to help. He parked his truck on the opposite shoulder, checked to make sure his gun was loaded before tucking it in the small of his back, and jogged across the road.
A woman was trapped inside the car. Damn!
The man on the driver’s side turned toward him. They were dressed identically in black jeans and black all-weather jackets despite the heat. Heavy sunglasses obscured their faces and they wore black ball caps pulled low over their foreheads.
Their posture was decidedly unfriendly.
Okay, Logan, defuse, defuse, defuse.
He just hoped the woman was sharp enough to play along with him.
“We have this under control,” the man on the driver’s side said. “You can go on.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Logan held up a hand and looked through the window at the woman. “What happened, sweetheart? I told you I’d follow you to town. You should have waited for me to get off the phone.”
The look he gave her said play along.
The expression on her face was a combination of anger and terror. She wet her lips. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to rush your phone call.”
Thank God. At least she was no dummy. But how the hell had she gotten herself into this situation?
He looked from one man to the other, his face expressionless. What the fuck was going on here? “What happened, babe? Did you take that turn too fast?”
Keep it up, lady. We don’t want full-out war with these guys.
She looked from him to the man standing next to him and back to Logan again. Her faced was taut with fear, but the look in her eyes told him she had smarts and was using them. Maybe she figured if he got rid of these two guys she could handle one man herself.
“I, um, skidded on the road and ended up in the ditch.”
“We’re helping her,” the man beside him said, his Spanish accent evident.
Logan gave him a look he hoped said get the fuck out of here or I’ll bust your balls. As an agent at a private security and protection agency and former Marine, he’d taken down more than one man at a time before, men who were sharper than these two.
“This is your wife?” one of them asked. His voice was heavy with skepticism. If she’d been targeted specifically, they’d know she wasn’t married, but maybe this would scare them off.
“Sure is. Thanks for stopping, guys, but I’ve got it from here.”
They two men exchanged a look, as if deciding whether or not to take him out.
Logan glanced into the car. “Damn, sugar, you’ve got that glass all over you. Let me get my phone out, call for help.” He lifted his shirt to reach for his phone in his back pocket, deliberately exposing the gun in his waistband.
The man next to him took a step back. Good.
“Oh, oops.” Logan grinned. “Sorry.” He reached on the other side and pulled out his cell.
But the man shook his head once to his partner, who looked like he was spoiling for a fight, and they backed away. Good. They were smart enough at least not to start a firefight on a public road, no matter now sparsely traveled it was.
“Sorry,” he said. “We just stopped to see if we could help.”
They strode back toward their SUV.
Logan pulled out his cell phone and began snapping pictures of the two men and their vehicle. He had barely lowered the cell when the vehicle took off with a screech of tires.
Then he turned to give the woman a good look. Even shock from the situation didn’t detract from her appeal. Rich, thick sable hair pulled back in a ponytail accented her face with its delicate cheekbones, full lips, and smoky gray eyes framed by the thickest eyelashes he’d ever seen. Her body, with rounded breasts and hips, was a wet dream walking. She was definitely all woman, something he’d noticed the moment he’d approached her car. One hell of a woman, if he was any judge.
Unexpectedly his cock stiffened.
For fuck’s sake, Logan. Get your shit together.
He wasn’t as much shocked by his physical reaction as by the fact that it happened at all. For a long time now, he’d managed to keep a clamp on his sex drive and take it out only when required, like taking aspirin for a headache.
“You’re a smart woman,” he said. “I didn’t know if you’d play along with me.”
She inhaled an unsteady breath and blew it out. “I took a chance. You could have been worse than they were.”
“Still, that shows brains and quick thinking. Good for you.” He studied the interior of her car. “Wow. They did a number with that window. Don’t move. There’s chunks and pebbles everywhere.”
She stared at him, studying his face. “You promise you aren’t the second wave? You know, like good cop, bad cop? The bad guys threaten me and you come along and win my confidence by helping me?”
“Nope. Scout’s honor.”
“I, uh, saw that you have a gun.”
“So did those jackasses. I wanted them to see it.” He smiled at her. “But I only use it as part of my job.”
She caught her lower lip in her teeth. “They just came at me out of nowhere and ran me off the road. Then they boxed me in and smashed the window.”
“Later I’ll want all the details. Right now let’s get you out of here.”
“Do you know who they are? Those men?”
“No.” His voice hardened. “But I know other garbage like them.”
She swallowed. “So who are you, anyway?”
“Oh. Sorry.” He winked at her, and the tension in her body visibly eased. “Logan Malik. Savior of women in danger.”
“Devon Cole.” She dug up a smile. “Woman in danger who needed saving.”
“I’d shake hands with you but I think you should sit very still.” He nodded at the glass sprinkled all over her. “You’ve got some scrapes where the chunks of glass hit your arms but fortunately they aren’t sharp enough to do more than that.” He studied her face. “Miraculously none of it flew at your head, so your face is clear.”
She blinked.
“Oh.” She looked down, taking in the glass scattered over her lap, the seat, and the floor of the car. Then she then lifted her arms and looked at them. The safety glass had splintered into pebbles of all sizes, and she had some scrapes and bruises where they’d hit the unprotected skin. When she lifted a hand to brush off the ones clinging to her T-shirt and thighs, she was shaking.
“Adrenaline crash. Been there, done that. Take some deep, slow breaths and in a minute you’ll be steadier.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him, although he was sure that was a big exaggeration. “Do whatever you have to.”
And she has guts. I sure hope I find something wrong with her before I make a big mistake.
With a slow, deliberate movement he pulled open her car door and stuck his head inside.
“Hold on.” He made his voice sound as reassuring as possible. “I want to get you out of here before your car lurches any farther into the ditch.”
She cleared her throat. “I’m going to need a tow truck. And I should call Chief March. I need to report this.”
“I’ll do it. I’ll make both calls. Also, I got a picture of their car and license plate, which I will ask my boss to run for me.” He looked at her front seat again. “Your cuts should be looked at. So let me get things going here.”
“I’m fine, really. A tow truck and a little first aid and I’ll be fine.”
He gave her high marks for not falling apart. He’d feel better if someone checked her over but he agreed there wasn’t anything serious enough to require medical attention. Alcohol, a hot shower, and maybe a few Band-Aids should take care of it. He scanned the interior of her car again.
“Okay, but we do need to get you out of here before this thing rolls over.”
She sat very still while Logan unlatched her seat belt. When he shifted and turned his head, his gaze locked with hers. Something hot and dark and mysterious surged between them. For a moment that stretched into eternity, they stayed like that. Then, whatever it was disappeared and he concentrated on easing her from the car.
With a combination of gentleness and strength he lifted her from the car and carried her to where his truck was parked.
“Is this what you do, Logan Malik?” Her voice was shaky. “Go around rescuing women in distress?”
“If they’re in trouble. Especially beautiful ones.” He opened his passenger door, and guided her onto the seat. “Stay right there, okay?”
He pulled out his cell and punched in some numbers. He felt her eyes focus on him while he gave the location to the tow truck driver.
“Yeah, out on Seacliff Road,” he said into his phone. “Okay, good.”
He hung up and punched in the number for Arrowhead Bay Police.
“Chief March, please. Hey, Sheri, it’s Logan.” He quickly outlined the situation. “Yeah, I already called for a tow but can you call up EMS? The driver has some injuries.”
“No.” Devon shouted the word. “Please, Logan, if I needed medical attention, I’d be smart enough to tell you.”
He studied her for a moment, then nodded his head. “Forget EMS. Oh, and hey. Will you call Avery? She might as well find out now what I stuck my nose into. Thanks.” He stuck the phone back into his pocket.
Devon looked at him, frowning. “Avery? Sheri’s sister? Why are you calling her?”
He grinned. “She’s my boss. She likes to know when I get myself into trouble.”
“Oh.” She bit her lip, pulling her full bottom lip between even, white teeth. “You work for Vigilance, the bodyguard agency?”
He laughed. “Among other things. Hence the gun.” He winked. “You never know when you might need good protection.” He sobered. “Do you have any idea who those assholes were?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’ve never seen them before.”
“Do you happen to have an idea what they were after? This didn’t look like your everyday roadside mugging. In fact, I’d say they’re some pretty nasty characters.”
“I think they were looking for my father, but I have no idea where he is.” Pain slashed across her face.
Uh-oh.
Like everyone else in Arrowhead Bay, he was well aware that at dawn this morning a Coast Guard cutter on patrol had found Graham Cole’s sweet catamaran, Princess Devon, floating unoccupied about five miles from shore. The Guard was well into an intensive search for a body.
“You have any idea what scum like that would be doing looking for him?”
“I wish.” She did that thing with her bottom lip again, and Logan gritted his teeth against the surge of lust that powered through him. Holy hell. He was more disciplined than that.
“No worries,” he assured her. “We’ll get you taken care of and make sure you’re safe.”
“I think you’re already doing that. Anyway, Chief March—Sheridan—called me this morning and here I am.”
“How come you didn’t leave your stuff at the house? I saw everything still in the back seat of your car.”
“I, uh, decided I wanted to see Sheri first. I realized I should have stopped there before heading out this way.”
“Probably a good idea.” He leaned against the frame of the truck. “You sure didn’t need this on top of everything else.”
But she was certainly handling it well, he thought. She was understandably frightened and dealing with the shock of her father’s disappearance, yet she was holding herself together with a strength that impressed him.
She looked up and gave him an obviously forced smile. “I don’t know what you were doing on this road, but I’m sure glad you were here.”
“Me, too.”