Freefall Page 2

  For now, she’d wait to see what happened.

  The taller one leaned close. Ugh. He smelled like wet dog, too. What was that all about? “You know,” he said with a sneer. “It’s not safe to be outside after dark. You don’t know what’s waiting for you.”

  No kidding. “What do you want?”

  “The big dog wants to see you,” he answered. “Let’s go for a ride.” His large hand closed around her upper arm. “Bobby, put the knife away.”

  Bobby did as he was told.

  What big dog?

  A sleek black sedan pulled up beside them. The tinted windows were so dark, she couldn’t see who was inside, or more specifically, how many. No way was she getting in the car with them. Nope. If they meant to kill her, they could just do it right here. In the middle of the neighborhood.

  She had no intention of making it easy for them.

  Sara had never been anyone’s fool. Yeah, she was tall and had always been athletic, but against a man, no contest. She’d needed an advantage; one that could be applied over strength.

  Tools. A single girl’s best friend.

  She drew the pepper spray from her pocket, shoved it into the taller man’s face and sprayed. He screamed as his hands flew up to cover his eyes. His body doubled over and then he collapsed over the hood of the car. At the same time, she turned enough to deliver a strong kick to Bobby’s knee. He toppled to the ground, howling and clutching his shattered leg. A quick survey told her she’d done sufficient damage. Go!

  She took several steps back and–

  Watched them heal before her eyes.

  Oh, shit…

  The tall one, a dark-haired man with dark, now blood-red eyes, shot her an icy glare. “You’ll be sorry you did that, Missy.”

  “Doubt it,” she fired back.

  Bobby clamped his hand onto her ankle and pulled her toward him. She tried to kick free of his grasp, but he was so strong. Too strong.

  Sudden, blinding blue light erupted out of nowhere, so bright she instinctively slammed her eyes shut and turned away. Bobby let out a blood-curling scream. Pain. She felt it. Hideous, gut-wrenching pain.

  The dark-haired man crumbled to his knees without making a sound.

  A second later, darkness surrounded her again.

  She looked up. Bobby was gone, as was the dark one, and so was the car. When had they left? She hadn’t hear the car doors slam, no sound from the car. Nothing.

  How had they disappeared so fast?

  Did it matter? Springing to her feet, Sara bolted for home.

  Unable to stop, she slammed into the front door, then cursed her sudden dizziness as she fumbled for the keys in her pocket. Her fingers trembled, but she managed to sort out the right key, unlock the door, push it open, then slam it shut and set the deadbolt. Jesus!

  The house was dark and all the blinds were drawn, thankfully. She didn’t want to see a thing. Not yet. She was shaking, breathless. Terrified.

  What the hell just happened? Who were those people?

  “Jesus,” she murmured. Should she call the Police? What would she say? They hadn’t actually hurt her, though she knew they’d had malicious intent. Bobby had held a knife to her throat.

  And then what, ma’am?

  A bright blue light chased them away. Now that I think about it, I think the light came from my protection charm.

  Sure, it did, lady. Did we forget our medication today?

  Okay, bad idea. Clearly, she was on her own, at least for now.

  Sara shivered. She was tired, and yet she knew sleep would elude her. Had it happened earlier in the evening, she could’ve called her best friend, Eryn, and they’d have talked until she was calm. But it was late, and she didn’t want to wake Eryn. The good Dr. Eryn Stanovich needed her rest.

  What about Bryan?

  The thought was enough to budge her from her spot near the front door. She flipped on a light and pulled the White Pages from the cabinet. She’d given him her personal information, but he hadn’t returned the favor. If she thought about that too much, she was certain it would upset her, so she set it aside for the moment. A pesky little voice inside her head told her she was just asking for trouble by calling him. If he’d wanted her to have that information, he would’ve given it to her.

  Maybe he’d just overlooked it, she reasoned.

  Not.

  Ignoring that nagging inner voice, which was of no help at all, she searched for his name in the phone book. No luck. That didn’t come as a complete surprise, though. He had people to take his phone calls for him.

  Then she tried Information. Unavailable.

  Still not surprised.

  What was the name of his company? Mythos. What kind of name was that, anyway? She searched the Yellow Pages.

  Nada.

  Okay, what about something online?

  Zip.

  If her research was any indicator, the man simply didn’t exist.

  Sure, he did, her mind argued. Bryan Hodges didn’t exist. The guy she’d spent the weekend with was probably home now, safely tucked into bed with his lovely wife and their lovely kids.

  Mythos, she brooded. Mythos… Then it occurred to her.

  Mythos: a myth. How transparent was that?

  “Crap. You are so blind, Steadman,” she chastised.

  Sara dropped into a chair, rested her head in her hands, and let out a shuddering sigh. At least she knew she could move on now, and just chalk up the gorgeous Bryan Hodges to yet another mistake.

  Tonight was going to be a long one.

  * * *

  Was that the doorbell? Again?

  Sara opened one eye to see that morning had arrived. She’d slept all of an hour, according to the alarm clock on the side of the bed.

  She descended the stairs in a sleep-deprived haze, still clad in sweats and a T-shirt, and looked through the peephole. Crap. Not what she needed.

  Swinging the door open, she leaned against the frame. “Elliott,” she said groggily. Now that she knew Bryan wasn’t who he said he was, she had no interest in entertaining Elliott. “What can I do for you?”

  “Good morning, Sara,” he said with a bright grin. “More flowers from Bryan.”

  Sara’s brow furrowed. “Look, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I’m not impressed. Can you guess what you can do with those flowers? Have a nice life.”

  She slammed the door. Clenching her fists, she stood there a moment, waiting for the anger work its way out of her system.

  It didn’t. It just festered, making her shoulders and stomach tighten.

  “Sara?” he said from the other side. “Exactly how did I just piss you off?”

  A little battle started in her mind. Should she answer him, or just blow it all off and go back to bed?

  Answer him and then go to bed, she decided. No reason to be completely rude. “You didn’t.”

  “Then what are you talking about? I’m not playing any games.”

  She huffed out an impatient breath. “I know Bryan Hodges doesn’t exist. I tried to call last night, but there’s no listing for him or Mythos. Nice name, by the way. I looked him up on the internet. Neither he nor his company exists. Now, I have things to do. Leave me alone.” Whipping around, she went back upstairs to her bedroom. Just for good measure, she closed the bedroom door. If he started shouting, she wouldn’t hear a word.

  She paused to think about that. He wouldn’t start shouting or make a scene, would he?

  Surely not. He was a delivery guy, for heaven’s sake, not an old boyfriend. To her knowledge, delivery guys didn’t typically throw tantrums because their deliveries weren’t accepted. She was fairly certain most of them couldn’t have cared less. Elliott was no different. She hoped.

  More or less satisfied with her logic, she slipped between the sheets and put all thoughts of Elliott Hunter and Bryan Hodges firmly from her mind. More or less.

  Sleep was a magical thing. It could make the stress of a work day disappear, or bad
news seem less awful. But argue with a boyfriend, and you woke up feeling just as crappy as you did the night before.

  Her experience with the unsavory folks last night seemed far away now. Even Elliott’s flower delivery earlier today seemed like it happened eons ago. Finding out that Bryan wasn’t who she thought he was felt just as bad now as it did last night. Worse, possibly, because now she had to go on with her life, knowing he wasn’t going to be in it. Worse still, she didn’t truly know whom she’d spent the weekend with.

  Didn’t that just suck?

  She did her best to push aside the hurt and disappointment. At least she hadn’t invested too much time in the man. Thank the heavens for that small favor. Made it a bit easier to get on with things.

  “Okay, so get on with it,” she grumbled. “Forget him.” Oh, wait–easier said than done. The man was intense, sexual, and so much fun to be with.

  Yeah, his wife probably thought so, too. Damn him.

  Sara rolled off the bed and headed for the shower. “Forget it. Just forget it.”

  A half hour later, she was dressed and ready to start the day.

  Sara had no intention of putting herself in a position where someone could just steal her off the street, like Bobby and the Dark Man had tried earlier. It wasn’t that she believed any big dogs wanted to see her, and certainly not The Big Dog, whatever that was. Why would they? Made no sense. Still, one had to be sensible about these sorts of things so, for now, she’d limit her trips to the convenience store to the daylight hours only. But, that was the only concession she’d make. No way she’d live in fear over this. Sara Camille Steadman was no one’s victim.

  And now that it was daylight, she had things to do.

  Grabbing her small purse, she stepped outside, turned and–

  Froze.

  Elliott Hunter looked up. He was fiddling with his PDA. The vase of flowers was at his feet, protected by the shade of the limousine, which was parked behind her Toyota.

  He leaned against the car, one booted foot casually crossed over the other. In those faded denim jeans and black T-shirt, the last thing he looked like was someone’s personal assistant. With rich, tanned skin poured over solid steel, he seemed more like a bodyguard. Or something more dangerous.

  “Why are you still here?” she asked, before she could stop herself.

  “Bryan wanted these flowers delivered. You slammed the door in my face before I could give them to you, so I waited.” There was nothing accusatory in his voice. He stated the facts as they were and then moved on. “Where can I put them?”

  She cringed inwardly. He’d waited for hours while she slept. It hadn’t once occurred to her he might do that. She pushed the door fully open. “Dining room table. Please, come in.”

  Elliott scooped up the vase, then leveled his incredible mint-green gaze on her while he walked up the porch steps. “After you,” he said softly.

  Letting out a soft sigh, she led him to the back of the house, to the informal dining room that preceded the kitchen. There, she stepped aside and let him pass.

  He set the flowers in the center of the long oak table. “There,” he said, a faint smile on his lips. “Delivered.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “I’m so sorry, Elliott. I had no idea you’d wait so long.”

  He shook his head, then tilted it while he studied her a moment. “Bryan is back in town. Would you like to see him tonight?”

  “Bryan?” she echoed. Yeah, Bryan. The one who doesn’t exist. “Uh…” Where was that rock when you just wanted to crawl under it and die?

  “Bryan is a very wealthy man, Sara. He isn’t listed in any book because he doesn’t need to be, but he’s no less real than you or I.” Elliott crossed the floor until he was only inches away. He smelled of jasmine and spice, warm, masculine, and innately appealing. His black hair was short in the back, but the bangs were long. Sexy. He seemed ancient, as worldly and experienced as his employer and yet wild, as if a feral nature simmered beneath all that golden skin. “So, do you want to see him?”

  Didn’t have to give that much thought. “Yes.”

  Without blinking, he said, “I’ll pick you up at 6:30.”

  He brushed past then, close enough the warmth of his body set every sense on full alert. Sara watched, riveted to the graceful shift of his hips, the sway of strong arms. The strong shoulders tapering down to a delicious, denim-clad little butt.

  His rich spicy scent intoxicated her, made her think of long, wet kisses beneath his sculpted, naked body while he–

  Sara drew in a sharp breath. She was stunned. Just stunned. What the hell was that all about? Reactions like that were for teenagers with raging hormones, not grown women. Especially grown women who were seeing someone else, and were supposedly trying to build a relationship with said someone else.

  No, Elliott Hunter had no place in her thoughts.

  He stopped at the front door, glancing first at her breasts and then her legs. Her body, traitor that it was, sizzled in response.

  “Wear something blue tonight,” he said.

  Oh, good. He was leaving. She let out the breath she’d been holding. “Okay.”

  The moment he closed the door, Sara turned and shot upstairs to her bedroom closet. What did she have that was blue?

  Pantsuit. Gray pinstripe. No.

  Cocktail dress. Black. No.

  Evening gown. Eww. Who cared what color it was?

  Navy blue skirt and jacket. Yes. Perfect.

  That would do nicely. She added a white silk shirt, a lace push-up bra, lace panties, and strappy, high-heeled shoes.

  That settled, she gave in to pacing a bit. It was not yet noon, but she couldn’t manage to keep a thought in her head. Truth be told, she was relieved Bryan wanted to see her again. She liked him, not because he was wealthy, but because he was sexy, confident, intelligent. A free thinker, he didn’t follow the rules. He made them. His life was an adventure and she wanted to be a part of it.

  He was the arrogant, strutting hero who commanded everyone’s attention. She’d seen it in the Keys. Heads turned when he walked in. People either rushed to get out of his way, or rushed in to see what they could do for him.

  And he’d been there with Sara. Her very own romantic hero.

  By the time Elliott rang the bell at 6:23, she’d taken two showers, shaved three times (once with an electric razor), applied lotion, body oil, eau de toilette–Opium (thank you, Mastercard), dressed, brushed on make up, and was now thoroughly frustrated with her hair.

  She opened the door and threw her hands in the air. “Look at this mess. I need a wig,” she declared.

  His eyebrows shot up. “What?”

  “My hair just sucks. I can’t go out like this. I need a wig.”

  He looked away, brushing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. It was obvious he was trying to stifle a smile.

  Failing to see any humor in this, her gaze narrowed. “You’re not going to laugh at me, are you?”

  His lips pursed and he nodded. “’Fraid so.” He did laugh then.

  It was a light-hearted sound that melted some of her frustration.

  He looked back at her, the humor of the moment lighting up his dazzling green eyes. “Sara, you look gorgeous. Bryan’s going to think you’re the most spectacular woman on the planet. He already does. Don’t worry about it.”

  She blew a strand out of her eyes. “It looks awful.”

  “No, it doesn’t, but if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll help you with it.”

  Her eyes widened. He’d help her? Sure, why not? Couldn’t be worse than what she’d done. “Okay,” she said warily.

  “I have a sister,” he said with a shrug. “Can I come in?”

  She stood back to let him pass. “Please.”

  He followed her upstairs to the bathroom where, amid wet towels, hair spray, mousse, make up, and various other feminine accoutrements, lay the damned flat iron. She wanted to look as perfect as possible, and her hair just wasn’t cooperating.
That wretched thing on the counter was just a willing accomplice.

  “Sit,” he said, pointing to the commode. “I’ll have you fixed up in no time. It’s not near as bad as you think.”

  Dropping onto the seat, she waited for a complete assessment of the damage.

  Elliott towered over her while he studied the pathetic mess that barely passed for hair. “Bryan likes it straight, and down,” he confided.

  Good to know. She’d wear it that way from now on. “What else does he like?”

  “Sex.”

  Yeah, she knew that already. “No kidding,” she said, mildly annoyed. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  His voice softened to something just above a whisper. “A man likes to bury his face or hands in a woman’s hair when he takes her, Sara. That’s why we like long hair so much. The feel of it, the smell. Like rain water, there’s just something very special about it.”

  Sara looked up at him. His gaze was hot, hungry when it fell slowly to hers. She couldn’t think, then, with him looking at her like that. All she saw was the piercing mint-green gaze, the full, soft mouth, and high cheekbones.

  All she felt was the wicked sexual heat from his body.

  Holy cow.

  He reached up to take a strand, letting it sift through his fingers. “You have beautiful hair.”

  She swallowed, then cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

  His thumb caressed her cheek. “You should wear it down tonight.”

  “I…um…okay. I can do that,” she said softly.

  Elliott smiled and drew back a little, nodding. “He’ll like that.” The heat in his gaze faded, replaced by something that looked much like regret. Or sorrow.

  So she asked the first question that popped into her mind. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  He pursed his lips and thought for a moment. “I did. It was a while back, before I worked for Bryan.”

  “What happened?”

  Elliott leaned back against the counter and crossed his legs at the ankles. “She left me for another guy.” He shook his head. “I wish I could say she had a good reason, like I was too busy, too involved with my work, but I wasn’t.”