Читать книгу Shattered Trust - Sara K. Parker - Страница 13

It wasn’t the first time anyone had been stood up at the altar, but it would be the only time Natalie Harper was.

She was perfectly capable of being happy alone, and she would be.

Inhaling the briny sea air, she stared hard into the darkening sunset along the horizon, willing herself not to give in to the flood of humiliation that kept pressing in on her. Plenty of women had walked this same path before her. Thousands of dollars and months of planning wasted on a romantic waterside ceremony and festive reception—and no groom in attendance. But she was probably one of only a renegade few who dared to flee the aftermath and embark on a solo honeymoon. It felt just a little bit selfish now that she was lying on a pristine beach, the sky painted vibrant colors as the sun set along the Riviera Maya.

Night was falling quickly, and up and down the beach, most people had already deserted their loungers and cabanas and headed back to their hotels. Natalie knew she should, too. She twisted around to scan her surroundings, to assure herself she was truly alone. The nearby loungers sat empty, dilapidated sand castles the only sign that anyone had been there at all. The scene should have been peaceful, but the darkness beyond made her uneasy. Staring hard into the shadows, Natalie saw no signs of movement, nothing to account for the goose bumps rising on her arms.

Turning back to the fading sun, she reasoned with herself that her uneasiness was a product of fear, not proof of a lurker in the shadows. She’d fought that anxiety for close to twenty years now, and she knew it well. She forced herself to relax again and try to enjoy the solace, even if she didn’t particularly enjoy solitude or beach vacations.

Her fiancé had chosen the location, and Natalie had gone along with the plan. If she’d had her way, they would have rented a cabin somewhere along the Shenandoah River, hiked quiet wooded paths and just enjoyed being together.

She didn’t often get her way, though, and reserved her battles for the issues that truly mattered—right versus wrong, life versus death, milk chocolate versus dark.

In the end, a resort in Mexico versus a cabin in Virginia wasn’t an argument worth having, so she’d let it go.

And then... Kyle Paxton had let her go.

She stopped her thoughts in their tracks. She had seven more days to process all that had happened and decide how to move on. Tonight, she didn’t want to think.

She didn’t want to think about her string of failed relationships or Kyle’s poorly timed cold feet. She didn’t want to think about facing her family’s well-meaning sympathy, returning the mountain of wedding gifts waiting for her at home or unpacking her lonely boxed-up apartment. Taking a sip of her now-lukewarm strawberry lemonade, her gaze caught on the gaudy engagement ring on her finger.

She didn’t want to think about the ugly ring, either—a knock-off of the $1.4 million original worn by her friend and rising actress, Julianna Montgomery, last year at the Golden Globes. Julianna hadn’t won best actress, but her red carpet look had captured the world’s attention—from her body-skimming midnight blue gown to her wildly expensive jewelry, including the ring. Now Natalie stared down at the replica, its one-carat marquise diamond flanked by an army of teardrop sapphires jutting around the center like the sun’s rays, and wondered why she hadn’t handed it straight back to her fiancé. She’d hated it, but hadn’t had the heart to tell him, or the willingness to think about what his choice of rings meant.

Natalie liked quiet, elegant things, timeless styles, understated beauty. The pretentious ring only symbolized how little her fiancé truly knew her...and how much time and energy Natalie had poured into a relationship with someone who didn’t care enough about her to learn her tastes.

She glared down at the ring, the setting sun glowing in the depth of its stones. Maybe the first step to moving forward with new dreams was letting go of the old ones—the turnkey house in the heart of Baltimore, the pretty yard and the porch with flower baskets hanging from its eaves. The kids, the dog, the minivan. Were those even her own dreams in the first place? They had all been wrapped up in the copycat ring and Kyle’s empty promises, both of which had fallen far short of her expectations.

Twisting the too-tight band, she struggled to shimmy it over her knuckle. It had been a snug fit from the start, but the beach heat had caused her fingers to swell slightly. She’d considered dropping the ring off to be resized at her friend’s jewelry shop, but Hannah was already struggling to keep up with orders while her dad fought stage four glioblastoma. Natalie didn’t want to add to the burden, but she didn’t want to hurt Hannah’s feelings by bringing the ring somewhere else. It wasn’t really a problem, anyway, except for whenever she tried to take it off. She finally released her finger from its grip and held the ring between her thumb and forefinger, her attention straying to the endless black water beyond. It seemed the perfect place to toss it, the cloud-dimmed moon a silent witness to her rejection of all the ring had come to symbolize.

But Natalie’s practicality won, as it usually did, and instead she stuffed the ring into her shorts pocket. Maybe she could sell it and pay her dad back some of the money he’d wasted on the wedding that hadn’t happened.

A whisper of movement sounded behind her and she sat up in her chair, her feet settling into the still-warm sand. Large umbrellas shadowed clusters of vacated lounge chairs. Still empty. Every one of them. But darkness had fallen and she couldn’t see far beyond her solitary spot. A shifting shadow sent her pulse leaping, but she blinked and it was gone. Had she imagined it? It didn’t matter. Natalie had stayed too long.

She shoved her feet back into sand-filled flip-flops and tucked her book and sunscreen into her bag. All the while, she scanned the lonely beach, straining to hear anything unusual above the splash of the waves along the shore behind her.

Nothing, but she felt hunted, and that scared her.

Hurriedly, she bent to retrieve her towel, but as she straightened, a dark form emerged from behind a pair of loungers just yards away. Her breath caught in her throat and for one second, she froze, the towel dropping from her hand. And then the man lunged toward her, a knife glinting in his hand. Natalie screamed, swiveling away and taking off across the beach, all energy focused on the outline of the hotel against the moonlit sky.

Don’t look back, don’t look back! But she couldn’t help it. She looked back.

And then she wished she hadn’t. Because he was too close and too fast. And the hotel was too far away. Even as she pushed for more speed, sand flying up behind her on the beach, even as she focused every bit of energy on the hotel lights far ahead, his harsh breathing bore down on her, his footsteps closing in. In a panic, she surged forward, her leg muscles screaming from the effort, but her shorter frame was no match for his long legs.

A hand snatched at the back of her shirt and she screamed again, tearing away and dodging his grasp. But her foot hit an uneven mound of sand, and she went flying, her palms barely breaking her fall as her attacker’s arms snaked around her middle and yanked her backward. She screamed in desperation, hoping someone would hear and come to her rescue, but the sharp point of a knife pressed into the side of her throat, and she stilled.

The rough edge of his bandanna rubbed the side of Natalie’s face, and repulsion slid up her throat as his mouth pressed close to her ear. “Shut up,” he commanded, his stale breath hot at her neck.

He was going to kill her. Natalie knew that as surely as she knew that screaming and kicking would only hasten her death. One wrong move and the blade would puncture her throat, and she’d be left to bleed out as the tide came up and washed her body away.

* * *

Luke Everett was just about to give up his search and try again back at the hotel when he heard the screams. Now he sprinted across the empty beach toward the voice he’d heard, hoping the screams hadn’t come from the woman he’d been searching for. His hope was short-lived as he came upon the scene—Natalie Harper restrained by a stranger in black, a knife to her throat.

Luke’s blood ran cold.

Natalie had gone still, her attacker behind her, one arm hooked around her waist, the other across her chest with a menacing grip on the knife. Her captor met Luke’s eyes, his face hidden by shadows and a dark bandanna. A local, Luke thought. Young-ish. Several inches taller than Natalie. He filed the information away as the man dragged Natalie back a few steps.

Her panicked eyes locked on him, pleading silently for help.

“Get out of here!” the man snapped, pressing the blade deeper against Natalie’s pale flesh. No accent. Maybe not a local after all.

Luke took a step closer. “Let her go.”

“I said, leave!” the man bit out. “This isn’t your business.”

“I think it is,” Luke responded, shifting to the right, trying to get in position to disarm the guy. But the man’s eyes were shrewd, and they all knew he had the upper hand.

One week of 24/7 work covertly guarding the adult daughter of a federal judge had seemed like the perfect assignment—low threat and all expenses paid in a prime resort on the beach. There’d been no indication that Natalie was in any kind of danger, that there would be any threat against her. Her father had simply wanted to be sure she was okay.

She wasn’t.

Not by a long shot.

The attacker tracked Luke’s every move, eyes gleaming above the bandanna. Then his grip on Natalie loosened, the knife moving away from her neck as he jabbed it toward Luke.

“Back off,” he growled. “Or someone’s gonna get hurt.”

He jabbed the knife again, and Natalie shifted, meeting Luke’s eyes.

She was going to try to break free, Luke was sure of it.

“Don’t—” he started to say, but she was already moving, dropping all of her weight against the arm that held her. Her assailant stumbled, and she twisted, darting to the side as the knife arced through the air. Luke sprang forward, shoving the guy with both hands, the blade barely missing his face. He thought it might have glanced off Natalie’s shoulder, but he couldn’t be sure. He was too focused on the fight, on getting the advantage and keeping the attacker from doing any more damage.

Grabbing the guy’s wrist, he twisted it up behind his back until the knife dropped to the ground. He kicked it away, sand covering the gleaming blade.

“Run!” Luke yelled to Natalie, wrestling the attacker down into too-soft sand that made a locked grip nearly impossible.

Natalie ran, all right. Straight to her beach chair and her overloaded bag.

For about three seconds, Luke thought she was going for the bag because she didn’t want to leave her valuables behind. Then she was back, swinging the bag toward the man’s head.

It hit the man’s shoulder, glancing off his head with a muffled thud.

“Natalie, run!” Luke repeated.

Too late. The assailant snagged her ankle with his free hand, yanking hard enough to unbalance her. She fell sideways, knocking into Luke with enough force to send them both falling. He grabbed her automatically, cushioning her fall as they both rolled into the sand.

Before Luke could right himself, the attacker was sprinting away, Natalie’s bag under his arm.

“Hey!” she yelled, and darted forward to run after him.

Luke caught her arm. “Let him go.”

“He took my bag.”

“Better than taking your life.” He pulled out his phone and shone the flashlight on a dark stain on the shoulder of her light blue T-shirt.

Natalie frowned, pulling the fabric aside and eyeing a three-inch cut on her shoulder.

“Here.” Luke bent down and snapped up her towel, handing it to her. “Press this to your shoulder.”

He shrugged out of his light jacket and used it to pick up the discarded knife, depositing the weapon into a pocket of his tactical pants. He was anxious to get back to the hotel, to get a better look at the cut. That had been close. If he’d arrived even a few minutes later... He wouldn’t let himself think about that. He’d gotten there on time, and Natalie was safe. No thanks to the gun Luke had been forced to leave at home because of international travel restrictions.

To think he’d barely blinked when his boss, Roman DeHart, had informed him he’d have to travel unarmed. He’d need to give Roman a call about the incident, and he wasn’t looking forward to that. Not that Roman would give him flak. The two had been longtime friends before Luke had started working at Shield Protection Services. But Roman wouldn’t relish having to break the news to Judge Harper that his daughter had ended up in the hospital with a knife wound on her first night in Mexico.

A protective arm at Natalie’s back, Luke quickly led the way up the beach and onto the sandy path back to the Riu de Sueños Hotel. Coconut palms and sea-grape trees lined the path, offering plenty of cover for anyone who might want to lie in wait for unsuspecting tourists.

Was that what the assailant had been? An opportunist? Someone who’d seen an easy mark and acted?

Luke studied the shadows, looking for signs that they weren’t alone, but he saw no one. The ocean’s rush mingled with a whisper of wind through the treetops and the quiet murmur of conversation from hotel guests who stood on balconies and patios.

A normal evening along the Riviera.

Except that Natalie was hurt, her attacker on the loose, her belongings stolen.

Lively music echoed from the hotel, the sound of voices beckoning the pair to safety. He picked up the pace, and Natalie had no trouble keeping up.

As soon as the glass doors slid open and Natalie and Luke stepped inside, he discreetly led her to the front desk and asked for hotel security.

The desk attendant glanced at the pair with curiosity, but with Natalie’s wound covered, her injury wasn’t apparent.

“One moment, sir,” the woman said, and picked up her radio to contact security.

Several long minutes later, a lone security officer walked casually toward them, his polished dress shoes knocking along the tile floor.

“I am Officer Canto. How may I help you?” he asked, his English as perfect as his tailored navy uniform. A young guy, new to security, Luke judged.

“This woman was attacked at knifepoint on the beach,” Luke responded. “She’s injured. Her attacker dropped the weapon and ran off with her purse.”

The security officer’s attention shifted to Natalie, his bland expression unchanged. “You are injured?” he asked, as if requiring proof.

Natalie lifted the towel from her shoulder, and Officer Canto’s eyes widened at the bloodstained fabric. “Please, follow me,” he said, his voice urgent now. He walked at a clipped pace, speaking rapid-fire Spanish into his radio as they followed.

Luke wasn’t impressed. If the mere sight of a little blood was all it took to send the guy into panic mode, Luke didn’t plan to entrust their safety to him or his team. But they would have to follow protocol and file a report, at least, so he didn’t see any other option but to follow him as the officer ushered them down the hall behind the lobby. He finally opened a door into a small office with a single desk and three padded folding chairs. No windows.

“Please, sit. I will get a fresh towel.” The officer left the room, shutting the door behind him. Natalie sat, but Luke remained standing, fighting the urge to open the door to the hallway. Some people felt safer in enclosed spaces. Luke felt trapped.

If a first-grade teacher hadn’t cared enough to push for answers, Luke might have died in the closet his mother’s boyfriend had locked him in years ago. Four days alone in the dark with no food and barely any water? That did a number on a person. He eyed the door. He wasn’t a scrawny seven-year-old anymore. He pushed the unwanted memory away and focused on Natalie.

“Let me take a look at that,” Luke said, gently taking the towel from her and pushing the bloodstained T-shirt away from her shoulder.

She winced, her face devoid of color, amber eyes flashing pain.

“It’s pretty deep. Better keep pressure on it,” he said, setting the towel back in place. “I’m no doctor, but it looks like you’ll need some stitches.”

“I should have stayed home,” she muttered.

“You couldn’t have known you’d be attacked on the beach,” Luke pointed out, but could see his words didn’t have much effect, her eyes sad. A light spattering of freckles made her look younger than her twenty-nine years. Her near-white blond hair was short and wavy, a delicate pearl hair pin askew over one ear. He’d been informed about her fiancé standing her up at the altar. She’d decided to go on her honeymoon anyway, and by all rights, she should have been able to enjoy a few quiet evenings on a beach after something like that.

Natalie was eyeing him curiously. “Thank you for coming to my rescue... It’s a good thing you were there. I’m Natalie Harper, by the way... But then, you knew that already.”

“Luke Everett,” he introduced himself, knowing that after calling out her name on the beach earlier, he couldn’t exactly keep his identity from her. “I’m with Shield. Your dad hired me to watch out for you on this trip.”

“Of course he did.” She didn’t look surprised. She looked resigned.

“You don’t look happy about it.”

She shrugged, flashing a half-hearted smile. “My father is overprotective. It gets a little old. Tonight, though, I’m thankful for it.”

Her dad’s borderline obsession with his family’s security was well respected within Shield. Almost twenty years ago, the Harpers had lost their only son in a tragic abduction that had ended in the little boy’s murder. Natalie and her twin sister had been eight or nine at the time. Luke could see how growing up under the watchful eye of an always-present security team could feel suffocating and intrusive.

The office door opened and the officer reentered, handing a fresh towel to Natalie. Then he skirted the small desk and typed on the computer keyboard as Natalie folded the stained towel into her lap and applied the new one to the wound.

“First, what is your name, miss?” the officer asked.

“Natalie Harper,” she stated. “Room 112.”

Officer Canto used only his two index fingers to type, his data entry excruciatingly slow. Luke groaned inwardly, but then Natalie glanced his way, a comical eyebrow raised in camaraderie, and he almost laughed. Forcing himself to relax, he leaned against the wall, settling in for what looked like would be a lengthy interview.

Luke listened and watched as Natalie recounted the details of the attack with precision and a surprising calm. The only visible sign of stress he’d caught was the slight tremor in her hand when she pushed her hair behind her ear.

But then, Natalie had grown up in the public eye. She was also a PR exec at a prestigious firm in downtown Baltimore, definitely not a person who would easily collapse under pressure.

“Can you describe the assailant?” the officer asked.

“He was taller than me by several inches,” she answered. “Not quite six feet. Medium build, but muscular. Wearing all black. Gloves. A bandanna. I couldn’t really see his face.”

“Tattoos? Scars? Hair color?” the officer prompted.

“His hair was dark. Brown or black. Straight, short. I didn’t see any tattoos or scars.” She looked at Luke. “Did you?”

He shook his head, pushing off from the wall and grabbing a tissue from a box on the desk. “No. But this is his knife.” Using the tissue, he retrieved the knife from his pocket and set it on the desk.

The officer’s eyes narrowed in on Luke. “Are you two traveling together?”

“I’m part of her private security team.” No need for anyone to know the rest of the team was back in the States.

“Most people do not bring private security to our resort.”

“Considering what happened tonight,” Luke said, “perhaps they should.”

The officer scowled, but didn’t respond. Instead, he slowly clicked a few more keys on his keyboard and then turned his attention back to them. “I am very sorry for your experience,” he said—with questionable sincerity. “We will investigate the matter.” He pulled open a drawer and handed Luke his business card before crossing the tight room and opening the door for them.

Natalie stood to leave, but Luke didn’t budge. No way would he let the matter stand like this, trusting the resort’s security team to properly investigate the assault. “I’d like to speak with local police right away,” he said. “Would you call an officer to the hotel?”

“I have called already. We will ring your room when an officer arrives.” He motioned to the door again, dismissing them.

“Ms. Harper will need a new room,” Luke pointed out, still not making a move to leave. The mugger would have access to her key card in her purse, so new security measures would need to be put in place. “And we’ll need transportation to a nearby clinic where she can have her injury taken care of.”

The officer hesitated for the briefest of moments before nodding. “I will arrange for transportation. Let us go speak with the front desk about the room.”

* * *

Despite the less than impressive security response at the hotel, the staff at the front desk were efficient and accommodating. Within minutes, Natalie and Luke were all set, new key cards in hand for side-by-side rooms on the seventh floor.

Luke wished he’d arrived just a little sooner that evening, but it’d been impossible to get an earlier flight. At least he’d gotten to the beach in time to intervene, or things could have been a whole lot worse.

Maybe it had been a crime of opportunity. Maybe. But Luke wasn’t going to take any chances. The woman wouldn’t leave his sight for the next seven days, except to use the bathroom and sleep. If he was honest with himself, he’d be a lot more comfortable with backup right about now. He felt a little out of his element since he’d been slowly cutting back his hours at Shield over the past several months in favor of devoting more time to the community center he was trying to get off the ground.

The project had been a dream for years, but after a gunshot wound on assignment last year, he’d decided it was time to make the dream a reality. Renovations were well underway on the building he had leased, and grant money had been flowing in. But when Roman had called to offer him the contract, Luke hadn’t hesitated to accept. Roman had been convincing enough—mentioning how short-staffed Shield was at the moment, as well as how handy Luke’s minor in Spanish would be. But when Luke heard the payout, he was sold. His sister, Triss, was heading into her last year of college, and he had the idea to use the paycheck to surprise her by covering her next tuition bill.

But first, the task at hand. They’d need to gather their belongings and transport them up to the new rooms. As they approached Natalie’s old room, Luke’s hand came to her elbow, keeping her close.

“Allow me,” he said, reaching over to take the key card from her.

“I can manage,” she responded, swiping the card in front of the lock mechanism.

Luke’s hand covered hers on the handle. “Someone has your old key. I’m not taking any chances.”

After all, Natalie had been entrusted to his care. Sure, guarding her was a job, and he was getting paid to do it, but he took the work as seriously as he’d taken raising his younger siblings after he’d won custody. His commitment. His responsibility.

“Fair point,” she said, her hand sliding out from under his palm. She didn’t stand back, though. Instead, she drew a little closer, and he caught a whiff of salty air and sunscreen mixed with a citrusy scent that could have been shampoo or perfume.

Her nearness triggered an unexpected attraction, Luke’s pulse surging double-time. He steadfastly ignored it. He’d learned his lesson two years ago, and he’d remember it. The workplace was no place for romance. Especially the private security workplace, where emotions often ran high and created a false sense of connection.

He pushed the thoughts aside and opened the door, flicking on the light as he stepped into the room.

A suitcase lay on the floor, clothes dumped beside it. The mattress had been tossed from the bed, sheets and pillows thrown into a pile. Balmy air billowed in from the open sliding glass door, dark shadows undulating on the balcony behind it.

An escape route for the intruder? Or a hiding place?

He wasn’t going to investigate. Not with Natalie stepping into the room behind him.

“What—” she started, but he grabbed her arm, tugging her back over the threshold and into the hall. The room was silent and still—no sign of an intruder lying in wait. He eyed the closed closet door and the one that opened into the bathroom, then fixed his attention back on the balcony. The perp had entered that way. Or he’d entered through the door and left that way. If he’d left. Luke reached into the room and flicked off the light, watching the shadows play on the balcony curtains.

“Do you—”

“Shhhhh,” he whispered in Natalie’s ear.

She stilled, and he knew she was watching the curtains, knew she was seeing what he did—a subtle shift in the shadows that seemed out of sync with the fluttering fabric.

A person? Or just the exterior lights playing tricks on his eyes? There. Gone. There again. He thought he heard a soft thud, a quiet rustle of fabric. Then the wind shifted, the curtains fell back into place and the balcony went still and silent once again.