Nowhere to turn

When she witnesses her boss’s murder, Chelsea Rogers is forced on the run. Hiding out as a personal assistant to a wealthy matron on a Hawaiian vacation, she hopes to stay off-the-radar. But then Alex Sullivan, her employer’s dashing but highly suspicious attorney, starts digging into her identity—and hired guns begin stalking her every move. Another murder leaves her with no choice—she has to trust Alex to have any chance of surviving. But when the threats against her put them both at risk, will the danger she can’t outrun cost her the man she’s learned to love?

“Sooner or later, I’m going to discover what you’re hiding.”

Alex stood in front of her, his stance imposing as he continued. “Why don’t you save us both some time and enlighten me?”

Chelsea’s lips thinned. She was so distressed she barely seemed to notice when Alex reached for her hands and started rubbing them gently, his eyes locked with hers. When he spoke, his voice was softer but still insistent. “I don’t know what you’re involved in, but somebody tried to kill you today, and I just pulled you out of a building with a dead body in it. It’s time to end the secrets. Whatever this is has gone way too far.”

Chelsea’s heart was thumping against her chest. She realized that her breath was coming in gasps, so she tried to slow things down and steady her nerves. What was she supposed to do?

The thought came to her then. Trust him…

But could she?

KATHLEEN TAILER

is an attorney who works for the Supreme Court of Florida in the Office of the State Courts Administrator, where she works on programs that are designed to enhance and improve dependency courts throughout the state. She previously worked for the Florida Department of Children and Families, handling child-abuse cases both as a line attorney and in the DCF General Counsel’s Office. She enjoys teaching business law online classes at Liberty University and working on finding homes for orphans with the Open Door Adoption Agency. She and her husband have eight children, five of whom they adopted. When not in the office, Kathleen spends most of her time cheering for her kids at different events or spending quiet time (hah!) at home. Kathleen has previously published three articles for Fostering Families Today, a magazine for foster families. She also plays drums on the worship team at Calvary Chapel Thomasville.

Perilous Refuge

Kathleen Tailer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.

—Joshua 1:9

Family comes in many forms.

This book is for my magnificent family:

my husband, Jim, and all eight of my children—Bethany, Keandra, Jessica, Nathan, Joshua, Anna, Megan and James. It is also for my incredible church family at Calvary Chapel in Thomasville, Georgia. Thank you all for your love and support!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

PROLOGUE

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

EPILOGUE

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

Cecilia Rigo rubbed her forehead, but the ache simply wouldn’t go away. It was past two in the morning, but Mr. Roderick Carver, CEO of Carver Enterprises, wanted to go over the books one more time, and she would do as her employer asked. They could go over them fifty more times, but the numbers wouldn’t change and neither would the fact that someone had been skimming large sums of money from the real-estate company. Cecilia closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. Everything pointed toward Justin Carver, her boss’s only child, as the guilty party, but Mr. Carver was desperately searching for any other answer.

Cecilia looked over at Mr. Carver and noticed the grayness of his skin and the heavy lines around his eyes. He seemed to have aged thirty years as the knowledge of his son’s treachery seeped within him.

“I think I’ll go get us some coffee,” she said softly. She met his eyes and gave him a tired smile, then patted his hand and left for the kitchen. She had worked so long and closely with him that he had become a father figure to her, and she wanted to do whatever she could to ease the pain he was undoubtedly feeling.

“Thank you, Cecilia. I don’t know what I would do without you.” His voice was rough, and she knew he was holding back the tears.

She went to the kitchen and prepared the coffee, then pulled two cups from the cabinet. The gunshot shocked her so much that she dropped one of the mugs and it shattered against the tiled floor. She rushed back to the room to see Justin standing over his father’s inert body, the blood from the older man’s head wound already seeping silently across the desk.

Justin smiled at her, but it was a sinister smile and fear swept down her spine. “Just in time, my dear. I’m afraid my father shot you and then killed himself when he found out how you had been stealing from him.” He pointed the gun at her chest. “Not even those pretty brown eyes of yours could convince him to spare your life. It’s sad, really. What a waste.” He narrowed his eyes. “Now move slowly into the room.”

Despite the fear that was coursing through her body, she somehow managed to form a vehement reply. “I never stole from him. You’re the one that has been embezzling money and padding your own personal accounts.”

Justin shrugged. “That may well be true, but I can always forge some documents to shift the blame to you if necessary. It’s a pity that you won’t be here to defend yourself.”

Cecilia didn’t think. She threw the remaining mug at Justin’s head and hit the ground, just as another gunshot rang out and the bullet hit the chair cushion beside her. A puff of feathers flew into the air as she quickly crawled on her hands and knees back toward the kitchen, her heart banging against her chest. Another bullet hit the drywall just above her head as she reached the kitchen, got to her feet and started running down the hallway. The next bullet grazed her cheek and she could feel the blood, wet and sticky, dripping down her neck. She barely noticed the pain as she darted into the library.

“There’s no place for you to go,” Justin called out loudly, his voice matter-of-fact. “My people are all over this building and the grounds, as well.” His footsteps echoed off of the tiled floor as he followed her down the hall, and with each step Cecilia shook even more. He was so confident in his words that he walked in an even gait with no hurry whatsoever. She tried to slow her breathing so the sound wouldn’t give her location away, but she was so scared she could barely control her gasps for air.

She looked desperately around the room but didn’t see any place to hide from her pursuer. Her adrenaline surged as she heard the footsteps coming closer and closer. To the left she caught sight of the exit to the balcony and she flung herself through the double doors and looked urgently around the gardens below. They were on the third story of the building and she had never been good with heights. A wave of vertigo swept over her, but she had no other options.

With a quick prayer, she quickly closed the doors behind her, then put her leg across the railing and hoisted herself over, searching for toeholds in the redbrick that would keep her from tumbling to the ground. Slowly she maneuvered her body onto a small ledge underneath the balcony and into the shadows. Her right foot slipped and she let out a soft cry, but the sound was masked by Justin throwing open the door and stepping out onto the balcony himself. Thankfully, she was able to wedge herself against the ornate marble window dressing and hold herself immobile.

She could hear Justin saunter confidently to the railing, and she tried to hold her breath as his shoes clicked on the balcony tile. With each step, she grew more certain that he would discover her hiding place and her life would be over. Her heart was beating so frantically that it was ringing in her ears and a wave of nausea caught in her throat.

Suddenly, Justin’s cell phone buzzed and broke the silence. Her body jolted with surprise and she nearly lost her hold.

“No, she’s not here,” Justin said loudly, his voice tinged with frustration. “Looks like she jumped, but I don’t see her anywhere below, so she must have made it.” He hit his hand against the railing. “I can’t believe this! You had better find her! She can’t be allowed off the property. Do you hear me? I want her dead!”

ONE

One month later

“She’s a fortune hunter, Miss Abigail. She’s going to rob you blind and you won’t even know it until she’s three states away, sipping margaritas on the beach somewhere in a designer bathing suit she bought with your money.” Alex ran his hand through his hair in frustration. Apparently nothing he said would convince his client that she had made a mistake and hired a con artist as an accountant.

He glanced over at Chelsea Rogers who was making a purchase at the nearby airport newsstand, glad that she was far enough away that she couldn’t hear the conversation. As she paged through a magazine, he saw her absently rub at her cheek, thumbing over a spot he knew held a small scar—the sort of one would get from a bullet graze. What kind of woman had a scar like that? And what trouble would her past bring to one of his law practice’s most vulnerable clients?

“Pah, I don’t believe a word of it. Chelsea is a sweetheart,” Miss Abigail replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

Alex grimaced. “I’m not sure just how she cajoled her way into your heart so quickly, but I’m not going to let her get away with it.” He knew firsthand the trouble conniving women could cause—he’d been victim to one himself. And Miss Abigail had much more to lose.

“You worry too much,” Miss Abigail said gently as she gave him a reassuring smile. “But I’m glad you’re coming along on this trip.”

Alex rolled his eyes. As soon as he had found out about Chelsea Rogers, he had a booked a ticket to accompany the two to Hawaii. Apparently nothing he said at this point was going to change Miss Abigail’s mind, so the only other thing he could do was keep an eye on Chelsea personally and prove her dishonesty before Miss Abigail executed the new will and trust that she had demanded. Miss Abigail came from old money, and her estate was worth several million dollars. Alex, and his father before him, had been her attorney for the past thirty-two years, and Alex was not about to let her go through with her plans to leave Chelsea Rogers—a woman Miss Abigail hadn’t even known a month before—as executor of the estate.

He glanced at Chelsea once again out of the corner of his eye. She was still at the newsstand standing by the cash register. He had only met her in person this morning, at the airport. So far she had been extremely accommodating and helpful, but wasn’t that the way of fortune hunters? Didn’t they do anything and everything to ingratiate themselves into the good graces of their benefactors? The lady had been constantly at Miss Abigail’s side as they had traipsed through the airport, being helpful in courteous ways that only irritated Alex more.

He ran his hands through his hair, then tried again, keeping his voice low so that only Miss Abigail could hear him. “Miss Abigail, what did Chelsea say to you to convince you that you need to provide for her?”

Miss Abigail looked at him as if horns had sprouted out of his head. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m just trying to figure out what Chelsea did or said to suggest that she should be in charge of your estate, should anything happen to you.”

“She didn’t say a word. I have been in this world eighty-three years, Alex Sullivan. I think I’ve had a chance to hone my skills at judging a person’s character. Chelsea is a sweet girl with a good head on her shoulders. She’ll make sure everything is handled correctly, and the salary I’ve factored in for her to receive while she handles it will make sure she has plenty of time to find a new job afterward.”

Alex set his lips in a thin line. “It’s simply not in your best interest to trust so much to someone you don’t know very well. What of her background? Her family? You know next to nothing about this woman...”

The older lady sniffed, then turned and peered at him intently. “Tell me the truth. I know you’ve been investigating the girl. Have you discovered anything in her background that makes you suspicious?”

“I can barely find anything about her, which is suspicious enough on its own. I have the feeling she’s using a false name.”

He expected Miss Abigail to have a strong reaction to that, but she just looked thoughtful and nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I suppose that would make sense.”

Alex was flabbergasted. “Why aren’t you surprised or upset that she’s been lying to you?”

“Because she hasn’t been—not about anything important. I realize that Chelsea has secrets. She has been frightened and jumpy since she arrived. She’s wary of being out in public, and she seems to be somewhat scared of men. She shared with me that she’s trying to keep a violent man with lots of resources from finding her—an ex-boyfriend, I assume. There’s an awful lot of domestic violence in this world, but just because she has been victimized in the past doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve my trust.”

Alex frowned, clearly surprised. This wasn’t the explanation he’d been expecting...but he had to admit, it made sense. It even fit with the unusual scar on her cheekbone. He had absolutely no tolerance for men who abused women—if Chelsea Rogers had escaped from that sort of situation, then he had to admire her for it. But even if it was true, that still didn’t mean it was the whole story.

“If she’s so wary of being out in public and talking to people for fear of being found by her ex, how did she end up working for you?” he asked.

“She responded to an ad I placed in a health magazine,” Miss Abigail replied. Her aged fingers smoothed and re-smoothed the fabric of her dress. “I’ve told very few people this, not even your father when he was my attorney, but I have a rare blood type called Bombay blood. When I say rare, I mean really rare, but of all of the people on this planet, Chelsea actually has the Bombay blood type, as well. I can’t have regular transfusions during surgery, because if I get any other type of blood besides Bombay blood, it would be fatal for me. I’ve been banking blood in advance for this Crohn’s surgery I’m having in Hawaii, and Chelsea has also been donating. About a month ago she showed up on my doorstep and explained that she had seen my ad and that she had the same Bombay blood. We had her tested and found out that her blood would work perfectly.” The elder lady paused, then looked Alex directly in the eye. “She didn’t ask for a job, mind you. That was my idea. Of course I was already planning to pay her for her time and effort for her donations, but once I met her, I thought she would be the perfect traveling companion. She couldn’t be any sweeter, and no matter what happened in her past, I have witnessed her caring and compassion firsthand. Those personality traits are a rare combination these days.”

She reached over and patted Alex on the hand. “So you see? There’s nothing to worry about. Now start relaxing and enjoying this trip to Hawaii.”

Alex gave her a smile, noticing the tired lines on the matron’s face. He didn’t agree with her decision, but he didn’t want to badger her any further. “Okay, Miss Abigail. You win for now, but I’m going to continue my investigation.”

He watched her settle back with her puzzle book, then pulled out his laptop. He emailed the private investigator he’d hired this new information about Chelsea Rogers’s rare blood type and a “violent man with resources,” then continued researching on his own, trying to find out anything he could about the mysterious woman.

He automatically angled the laptop to obscure the screen when he heard someone approach and take the seat next to him, but it wasn’t Chelsea, just a stranger wearing a Braves baseball cap. Alex laughed to himself. The Braves didn’t have a chance this year. They had traded their best pitcher and he doubted they would even make it to the playoffs.

The man was totally engrossed in devouring a sausage biscuit while he messed with his phone. He punched a few more buttons, then put the phone up to his ear.

Suddenly he sat up straight. “This is Kent.” There was a pause as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I’m still in Atlanta, but I might have a change in plans. I think I found the...package we’ve been looking for. I just sent you a picture via email to verify I found the right one.”

Something in the man’s tone sounded odd to Alex and he sneaked a glance over to the side. The stranger—Kent—didn’t seem to notice Alex’s attention. His eyes were, instead, firmly focused on the newsstand...right where Chelsea was standing.

“By accident, really,” the man said as he shrugged. “I was heading back to Chicago and came across it at the airport. I’ve been keeping my eyes open and searching for it ever since you hired me.” The man took a sip of coffee and then dug into his bag, pulling out a sheet of paper, an envelope and a pen. “Unknown, but I’ll be happy to find out.” He scribbled something on the paper before sealing it away in the envelope. There was another pause. “Understood. You want that pleasure all to yourself. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” He snapped his phone shut and leaned back with a smile.

Suddenly the man stood, walked down the row of seats and then turned and started walking straight toward Chelsea. Alex tensed, on alert to see if the man would try to interact with her in any way. He had seemed to be watching her closely during his cryptic phone call. Was Chelsea somehow connected to the package he’d mentioned? She looked wary as the stranger approached, but there was no hint of recognition on her face. He brushed past her without a word, but when he walked away, Alex noted that the envelope that had been in his hand earlier was now gone.

Strange. Very strange. But perhaps this was another piece of the puzzle. He’d keep working until he pieced them all together and figured out just who Chelsea Rogers really was.

* * *

“Chelsea, do you have a pen I can borrow? I thought I stowed one in my tote bag, but I can’t find it.”

A moment passed, then another. “Chelsea?”

Cecilia startled. She still wasn’t used to answering to her new name. Everyone in Tallahassee knew her as Chelsea Rogers, a name she had borrowed from one of her favorite novels. The fake ID with the new name had cost her almost everything from her savings account back in Chicago, but it had been worth the price since they hadn’t stopped her at the airport security checkpoint.

“I’m sorry, Miss Abigail. Here you go.” She pulled a pen from the side pocket of her computer bag and handed it to the elderly lady.

Chelsea felt the aged fingers cover her hand. “Is everything all right, dear? You seem a bit distracted.”

“I’m just a little nervous about flying,” Chelsea admitted. “My stomach is a little upset.” That wasn’t far from the truth. Between anxiety over being out in public and her fear of flying, her stomach was in knots.

“You’re not sick with something contagious, are you?” Alex Sullivan snapped his paper closed, folded it, giving Chelsea an intense stare as he did so. “Miss Abigail doesn’t need to get sick during her trip.”

Chelsea startled at the mysterious attorney’s harsh question. She had been looking forward to this Hawaiian excursion, but ever since Alex Sullivan had joined her and the elderly lady she was caring for, the excitement had quickly disappeared. Alex had done nothing but glare at her since he’d arrived at the airport this morning, and his fierce expressions were sending cold shivers down her spine. He seemed to be watching her every move, and his perusal made her nervous and jumpy.

He’s an old friend of Miss Abigail’s, she reminded herself. He’s not connected to Justin Carver.

But she couldn’t seem to stop the nervousness she felt whenever anyone looked at her for too long or asked her too many questions. She was sure Carver was still looking for her—would today be the day he found her?

Stop. One way or another, she had to stop worrying—at least long enough to do her job. She forced her mind back to Mr. Sullivan’s question.

“No, it’s nothing contagious. I promise.”

Alex’s eyes didn’t waiver. “I care a great deal about Miss Abigail. Her health and safety are my priority. I would do anything I could to protect her. I hope you realize that.”

“Of course,” Chelsea agreed. His antagonistic words were no surprise—his behavior had been harsh toward her all morning. She had no idea why he had joined them on this trip, and wasn’t sure how she was going to manage several days in his company. Even in his casual clothing, the attorney seemed to exude intimidation and authority. His eyes slanted toward her and she quickly looked away, even as she felt goose bumps rise on her arms. She wished he wouldn’t watch her so carefully. As far as she knew, she had done nothing to garner his interest. In fact, she didn’t want anyone paying attention to her, and she had gone to great lengths to erase her identity and live inconspicuously under the radar for the past four weeks. If there was anything she didn’t need right now it was an attorney asking questions.

She watched him fish something out of his briefcase and then snap the latches closed. He wasn’t bad-looking, she decided, even if his behavior was driving her crazy. He had short dark hair and smoky-gray eyes that seemed to reach right into her soul and read her thoughts. He was also tall and broad-shouldered, towering above her five-foot-five height like a giant. She wondered how he would be comfortable in the small confines of the plane once they boarded, even in the first-class seats.

She quickly glanced away before he could nail her once again with his ferocious glare and watched a plane taxi and take off into the sky. Despite Alex Sullivan’s unsettling presence, he might actually turn out to be the least of her problems. Besides the anxiety of being in such a public place, Chelsea was terrified of flying, and had been ever since a plane she had been traveling in nearly three years ago had given her the roughest flight of her life. Despite her fears, however, she hadn’t been able to turn down Miss Abigail’s pleas to accompany her to Maui. It was a vacation of sorts for the elderly lady, though the end of the trip included a surgical procedure for Miss Abigail’s Crohn’s disease, which was ultimately the reason for the journey.

Chelsea pulled out her phone and checked her messages. “Dr. Winchester’s office confirmed your pre-surgery appointment,” she informed Miss Abigail. “It’s set for the day before the surgery.” Dr. Winchester had been Ms. Abigail’s doctor in Tallahassee for years, but had recently moved to Maui where he was semi-retired. The elderly lady only trusted Dr. Winchester to operate, and had planned the trip with time to play tourist for a couple of days before she actually had to report to the hospital for her procedure.

“Thank you for taking care of that, dear.” Miss Abigail reached over and patted her hand. “It makes the vacation part of the trip so much more pleasant to know that you have all the other details well in hand. Hiring you to be my companion and helper for this trip was the best decision I ever made.” She gave the words a peculiar emphasis, seemingly aimed at Alex Sullivan. Chelsea wondered what that was about, but decided not to ask.

She looked back at her phone, scanning again for a message she wanted to see that wasn’t there—a message from the business manager of Southside Renovations, one of the shell corporations Justin Carver was using for misappropriating funds.

The only way she’d feel safe again was if Justin was in prison...but she didn’t trust the police to put him there, and knew they wouldn’t take her word against his without some sort of proof. She’d had too many negative experiences with law enforcement and the court system in the past to believe in that fallacy. No, if she was going to see Justin Carver imprisoned for his crimes, she’d need more evidence than her own sworn statement.

Carver Enterprises was both a real-estate acquisition and development company, and made the bulk of its earnings from buying undervalued commercial properties, renovating them and then selling them at a considerable profit. Justin had been the executive vice president, in charge of managing most of the company’s renovation projects. According to the documents Chelsea had uncovered, Justin had created fictitious vendors, opened bank accounts in those vendors’ names and then submitted phony invoices for renovation services that had never been performed. He then laundered the money through various businesses such as Southside Renovations before depositing them into his personal accounts in the Cayman Islands. Once the embezzlement trail had been discovered, Chelsea had helped trace more than ten million dollars that had been funneled into Justin’s accounts.

According to the internet though, Southside Renovations was still in operation and had a corporate office in Hawaii. The business manager had promised to meet with her in two short days and to provide her with copies of all of Southside’s latest internal accounting audits.

Knowing that Justin had committed murder and was still lining his pockets with stolen money was a bitter pill to swallow, but at least her resources indicated he’d made no attempt to cover up what he’d done or to get rid of the records. If the money laundering scheme was ongoing, then there should be plenty of evidence that could be used against him—if she could just get her hands on it. It was a long shot, but hopefully the Southside business manager would give her what she needed to put Carver away once and for all.

The manager still hadn’t texted her with the location of the meet, so she stowed her phone, hoping that by the time they landed in Maui she would know a time and location when he was able to sneak away and give her the documents.

The gate agent announced the boarding call for the flight that would take them from Atlanta to Maui, and the three of them stood and gathered their belongings.

Mingled anxiety and excitement churned Chelsea’s stomach as they got in line to board the plane. Would Hawaii give her the keys to free herself from fear? Or was she marching even further into danger?

TWO

As the plane began its ascent, Alex glanced at Chelsea who had a death grip on the armrest. The prospect of sitting next to this woman for the rest of the trip made him decidedly uncomfortable. He gritted his teeth. Who was he kidding? This whole trip made him uncomfortable. Alex lived an ordered life and enjoyed keeping surprises to a minimum. Spontaneity was definitely not his friend.

He checked his watch as another wave of frustration swept over him. He needed to be back in the office working his normal seventy-to eighty-hour work week, not gallivanting across the United States to some tropical paradise. Because of Chelsea, case files were piling up in his office and here he was flying halfway across the world in the opposite direction.

He looked her over suspiciously. She was actually an attractive woman. Her high cheekbones and wide chocolate-colored eyes only served to irritate him more. He didn’t want to find her attractive in any way, shape or form.

About thirty minutes into the flight, Chelsea gingerly touched his arm. “Excuse me. Can you let me get by?”

“Yes, give me a minute.” He closed his laptop, then got up and stowed it in the overhead bin. “Where are you headed?”

Chelsea shrugged. “Nowhere. Anywhere. I just can’t sit here any longer. I’m going a little stir-crazy.” She headed toward the front galley of the plane and started pacing back and forth in the tiny space as the flight attendants began serving dinner to the first-class passengers.

Alex decided to follow her. Even though the woman was an enigma, she had seemed rather sick ever since the plane had taken off and he was decent enough to want to help her when she was so obviously distressed. She certainly wasn’t faking as he’d originally believed. In fact he’d never seen anyone so miserable on a plane before. He approached her from behind, intending to offer to fetch her a soda or maybe some motion sickness meds from a flight attendant.

Suddenly she turned and ran right into him. He caught her firmly in his arms and held her for a moment, surprised at how comfortable she felt there. The feeling lasted only a few seconds, but the frisson of warmth made him lock eyes with Chelsea before she pulled away. They both suddenly stepped back as if they’d been burned.

“Sorry,” Chelsea mumbled. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you. You looked rather pale and I didn’t want you fainting in the aisle.”

“I’m fine. Please don’t let me disturb you. I know you have a lot of important work to do.” She shivered and hugged herself nervously.

The captain’s voice came over the speaker and announced their airspeed and altitude. He then asked everyone to return to their seats due to turbulence and lit the fasten seat belts sign. Chelsea’s face turned even whiter as the plane rocked under their feet. She grabbed hold of a nearby seat to steady herself and took a deep breath.

Alex saw the fear etched in Chelsea’s face and reached out to support her other arm, even though she flinched at his touch. He gently led her back to their seats and steadied her as the plane continued to rock. They both looked over in Miss Abigail’s direction as they returned, but she was dozing and seemed oblivious to the turbulence.

Chelsea sat, quickly fastened her seat belt and wrapped herself up again in a blanket. The plane took another dip and she grabbed on to both armrests until her fingers started turning white.

Alex noticed and carefully removed her hand from the armrest they shared and took it in his own. He gave it a gentle squeeze but didn’t release it. Maybe he could distract her and learn something about her at the same time. “So why are you so scared to fly? Did you have a bad experience on a plane?”

Chelsea raised an eyebrow. “I’d really rather not relive it.”

Alex shrugged. “Fair enough.”

The plane jolted again and Chelsea screeched and squeezed his hand so hard it hurt. He shifted, but didn’t let go. He thought a moment, then tried again. “So tell me the story of your life.”

She didn’t respond and he gently pushed ahead. “Come on. It’s a long trip. Where were you born? Where did you grow up? These aren’t hard questions.” He raised an eyebrow. “Are they?”

“I’m not really in the mood for small talk,” she hedged.

“Would you rather I ignore you for the rest of the trip?”

“Honestly? Yes.”

Alex laughed for the first time since he’d packed his bags this morning. “Well, Miss Rogers, you must have something to hide.”

Chelsea flinched and Alex was instantly alerted by her reaction. This lady was obviously scared of much more than just flying in an airplane. He wanted to demand answers, but he knew instinctively that the direct approach wouldn’t work. With this woman he would have to read between the lines to discover her secrets.

He waited a few minutes for her to respond to his statement. When she didn’t, he tried again. “So? Why don’t you just tell me why you’re so scared of flying?”

Chelsea gave an exasperated sigh. “You don’t give up easily, do you?”

“Now you’re getting it,” he answered. “You’ll find I usually get what I’m after. Maybe it would be easier if you knew that about me right up front.”

“And what is it that you’re after, Mr. Sullivan?”

Alex leaned closer to Chelsea, keeping his voice low. “Information, pure and simple. Miss Abigail Van Buren is one of my oldest clients, not to mention a dear friend. I’m sure you understand that it’s vitally important for me to know everything I can about her associates so that I can adequately guard her interests.”

Chelsea pulled her hand away and shifted uncomfortably in the seat, apparently accepting his explanation. “I was born in South America. We moved to the U.S. when I was twelve.”

Alex nodded. “Ah, yes. I thought I detected a hint of an accent. Which country?”

“Brazil,” she answered softly. “On a flight there to visit family a couple of years ago, my plane had some difficulties and the turbulence was horrible. We nearly crashed into a very large mountain. I’ve hated flying ever since.”

She glanced out the window as the plane took another dip. Alex saw her start to shake and took her hand again. He waited a moment for her to relax a bit before pushing forward. “So, why did your family move to the United States?”

“I’ve told you about me,” she whispered, not meeting his eyes. “Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?”

His brows pulled together. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a very exciting story to tell. I’m certainly not a world traveler like you. I’m the oldest of three boys and have lived in Tallahassee all of my life. I spend most of my time working at my law firm with one of my brothers. My father was an attorney and he passed the business down to us. Miss Abigail has been with us since the beginning, and is one of my mother’s closest friends. I am fiercely devoted to protecting her interests.” His tone was businesslike yet filled with a subtle threat.

Chelsea tightened the blanket around herself. “I can understand why. Miss Abigail is a wonderful person. I know I haven’t known her nearly as long as you have, of course, but I also have come to care for her a great deal.”

“I’m glad,” he said softly, searching her eyes for any hint of deception. “How long have you been living in Tallahassee?”

Chelsea swallowed and squeezed the blanket nervously. “About a month.” She paused. “Can you let me by please? The turbulence seems to have passed and I need to go to the ladies’ room.”

Alex saw the withdrawal in her eyes and backed down. She was obviously hiding something, but there was no need to push for all the answers right now. With a little patience and some help from the private investigator he’d hired back in Tallahassee to research her background, he would know everything he needed to know about Chelsea Rogers in a day or two.

He stood to let her pass and glanced around at the other passengers as he did so. Miss Abigail had woken up and was doing a crossword puzzle. The lady in the seat next to her was typing furiously on a laptop and gently swaying to some music she was listening to on her headphones. Everyone else around them was dozing or watching the in-flight movie with headphones of their own.

He heard a noise behind him and noticed the man from the airport—the one with the Braves baseball cap who had made that strange phone call about a package. He was getting a bag out of the overhead bin. He wasn’t a first-class passenger, but must have had to store his belongings in the first-class section due to the lack of space in the rear of the plane. The man glanced at him and nodded, then returned to rummaging around in the bag. He watched the man return to the coach seats, then sat down again and waited for Chelsea to return.

* * *

Chelsea paced back and forth in the small galley of the plane, glad to have a short reprieve from the attorney’s prying questions. She didn’t know why he was pushing so hard to discover her past, but discussing her history could never happen again in any context. Justin Carver was a powerful man with a very long reach. If she wanted to stay alive, she had to keep her secrets at all costs.

Chelsea took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She tried to think of something pleasant that would take her mind off the flight and the gruff attorney, but instead her head filled with images of her recent past.

The past month had been the worst of her entire life. She had been happy in Chicago. She had felt needed and fulfilled between her work and her ministries at her small Christian church. She’d lost everything that fateful day Roderick Carver died.

After the murder she had barely escaped the grounds undetected. Once away from the office building, she had been too scared to even return to her apartment. Instead she had emptied her savings account and completely abandoned her life in Chicago. The newspapers had reported Carver’s death as a suicide; that he had killed himself after becoming despondent over large investment losses.

Chelsea Rogers was the only one not on Justin Carver’s payroll who knew the truth about the murder. It was that knowledge that would keep her from ever leading a normal life again.

Chelsea bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath. Two days. If the business manager from Southside Renovations could actually give her the documents he had promised and they contained what she hoped, then all of this fear and running could be over within two short days.

Her ruminations made her hands start shaking and she quickly moved them out of sight as she returned to her seat. She glanced furtively at the tall attorney, thankful that he was engrossed in the document he was studying and not paying any attention to her. These days, it was hard not to be constantly looking over her shoulder, wondering who would be a threat. Mr. Sullivan didn’t seem threatening exactly, but he would never win an award for Mr. Congeniality.

She reached for her purse that was stowed under the seat in front of her and began rummaging for her gum. The crisp white envelope didn’t catch her attention immediately, but she raised an eyebrow when she noticed it and pulled it out of her purse. There was no writing on the outside, but it was sealed and she could tell it had a letter or some sort of paper inside. Where had this come from? She didn’t recognize it at all. A sliver of fear went down her spine as she carefully tore open the envelope and removed the single sheet of paper.

I found you and now I’m never going to let you go.

Chelsea’s hands started trembling as she dropped the note back into her purse as if it were on fire. Where had this note come from? When? How had it gotten into her purse? She sank against the window as the fear consumed her. Was it from the man with the Braves cap at the airport? She thought she’d noticed him watching her, but when he hadn’t said anything, she’d assumed she’d just been paranoid again. Had he slipped the note in her bag when he’d brushed past her earlier? Did the note mean that Carver had found her? If so, how? She thought she had been so careful to cover her tracks, but apparently, at some stage, she had made a grievous error.

She picked up the note again and studied it carefully, hoping she would see something that would reveal its origin. “I found you...”

She wadded it up as nausea made her stomach heave.

“Are you okay?” Alex asked from beside her, startling her. “Do you need an airsick bag?”

Chelsea shook her head quickly, aware that her situation had just gotten even more precarious. She’d forgotten that the attorney watched her every move. She didn’t think he had actually seen the words on the note, but he’d certainly seen her reaction and now would be even more suspicious of her. She quickly zipped up her purse with the crumpled note inside and held it close to her chest, then tried to hide her shaking hands under the blanket.

Somehow, Carver had found her. Now there was only one question remaining. How long would he let her live?

THREE

Alex put his legal pad down and paced around the hotel room as he mentally went over his to-do list. His first priority was to contact his private detective in Tallahassee to see what he had been able to find out about Chelsea. Then he needed to convince Miss Abigail to sign the original trust documents and discard the version benefitting Chelsea. After that, he’d just need to make his plane reservations to fly back to Tallahassee.

He checked his watch, surprised at how much time had already passed since he had gotten up this morning. They had been in Maui less than twenty-four hours and the jet lag had slowed him down a bit. He pulled a number out of his wallet and dialed Tony D’Angelo, his favorite private investigator. Alex had known Tony for years, and although the man was scruffy and sloppy in appearance, he was a first-rate investigator. Tony had been an investigator for the firm for over fifteen years, but he had also been the one to discover Alex’s fiancée’s deception two years ago. They had been good friends ever since.

Tony picked up on the second ring, his voice loud and gregarious. “Yo, this is Tony.”

“Hey, Tony. Sullivan here. Any news about Miss Abigail’s assistant?”

“Some, Sully, but you’re not going to like it.”

A cold heaviness settled in Alex’s stomach. “Lay it on me.”

“Well, like we suspected, Chelsea Rogers doesn’t exist. I doubt it’s her real name and she’s obviously taken pains to create a new identity. I’m also guessing that Abigail Van Buren is paying her under the table in cash, and that’s why Chelsea’s history wasn’t discovered sooner. Otherwise her lack of a legitimate social security number would have tipped us off. You need to talk to Miss Abigail about that, by the way. We don’t want the old lady arrested for failing to pay the appropriate taxes.”

“I found some new information about Chelsea while we were on the plane,” Alex offered. “She said she moved to the United States from Brazil when she was twelve years old.”

“Any idea how old she is now?”

“I don’t know. Late twenties? Early thirties?”

“Well, once we figure out her real name we can check with immigration to see if we can verify that story against the visa and passport records.”

“Any news about this violent man with lots of resources that seems to want to find her? Miss Abigail seems to think Chelsea was a victim of domestic violence.”

“None yet.” Tony paused. “I’ve started working on the Bombay blood angle you told me about, too. I can keep digging if you want me to. The question is how far do you want me to go?”

Alex shrugged to himself. Tony charged quite a fee for his services. How much did he really want to know about Chelsea Rogers? Once he talked Miss Abigail out of the crazy idea of making Chelsea her executor, the case would be closed from his standpoint. His client’s interests would have been safeguarded. But what if Chelsea continued to work for Miss Abigail and ingratiated herself even further in the elderly lady’s good graces? Or what if he couldn’t convince Miss Abigail to revert to her previous will and keep Chelsea out of it?

He ran his fingers through his hair. He knew he needed to look out for Miss Abigail. He couldn’t just stand by and watch her get taken to the cleaners by an unscrupulous con artist. “Take two more days. While you’re searching on that end, I’ll try to find out what I can from this side. I’ll let you know if I come up with anything new.”

“Can you overnight me something with her fingerprints on it? If she’s ever been printed I can find her in the system, and that might speed things up.”

Alex paused a moment. “I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, I’ll wait here in Hawaii until you report in, just in case you find something.” He read off the number to the hotel and his room number, then disconnected. It looked as though he would be stuck in Maui for another two days unless Tony was able to discover something sooner.

Alex laughed softly to himself. There were probably very few visitors to this lush tropical paradise that considered themselves “stuck” here—but Alex had never been the type to enjoy vacations. He liked being at work, where he could feel productive and useful. He called the firm and checked in with his brother, Ryan, then called the airline and reserved a seat home. For the next two days he would do his own research on Chelsea Rogers here in Maui to see if he could discover her secrets for himself. Between his own investigation and Tony’s, surely he would find out the truth.

* * *

Chelsea adjusted the sunglasses on her nose, then scanned the pool area once more for anyone who might be watching her. She hadn’t seen anyone acting suspicious, but the fear the note had inspired hadn’t dissipated and she was terrified that at any moment, Justin Carver or one of his minions would approach her. She glanced over at Miss Abigail who was doing a crossword puzzle under a large blue beach umbrella. The lady had been very energetic today, despite the jet lag, and they had spent the better part of the day discussing their vacation plans and making sure all of the last-minute details were covered.

Chelsea had tried to be an enthusiastic participant in the conversations, but the note had made her jumpy and she’d found it hard to concentrate. Was the note really from Justin or one of his cohorts? If so, then she should probably be running again. Justin wanted her dead, and she had no doubt he would hunt her down and try to kill her if he truly had discovered her location. But Chelsea couldn’t leave Miss Abigail, not right before her surgery—not when she couldn’t even be sure the note was connected to Justin. No, for now she’d stay put—but she’d stay on alert, too.

She opened her laptop and did a search for Justin Carver, trying to see if there was any mention of his current whereabouts in the media. She found nothing recent, so she moved on to check her email. Finally. The email from the business manager from Southside was short and succinct.

TOMORROW. SOUTHSIDE WAREHOUSE. BUILDING 149, 11 P.M.

Her heart leaped as hope swelled within her. She glanced around the pool again, then returned her attention to the screen.

A man in jeans and a blue T-shirt caught her attention and she studied him carefully as a wave of anxiety swept over her. He was the only one in the pool area that wasn’t in a bathing suit, but it was more than his clothing that made him appear suspicious. Twice he had looked in her direction with a cold and calculating expression, and he seemed to be following her with his eyes. He looked familiar to her, but she couldn’t quite place where she had seen him before. Was he the man from the airport yesterday? The one in the Braves cap who she suspected had planted the threatening note in her purse? Her hands started shaking and she closed her laptop with a snap.

“I think it’s time to go back to the room. Don’t you think so, Miss Abigail? I’m starting to get a little too much sun.”

“Sure, darling. I think it’s about time for my favorite TV show anyway.”

The man looked in her direction a third time. Chelsea quickly got up and went to Miss Abigail’s side, then helped her gather her things just as the man started to approach them. With each step he took Chelsea’s heart seemed to beat faster and faster and her knees turned to jelly.

“So here’s where you’ve been hiding.”

The voice from behind made her jump and she nearly dropped her computer. She put her hand on her chest and took a fortifying breath as she turned and looked up at Alex Sullivan. “You scared me,” she said with an edge in her voice.

Alex raised an eyebrow and leaned closer so only she could hear him. “Really? Who did you think I was?”

Chelsea leaned back, uncomfortable. Words failed her and she found herself both unable and unwilling to explain further. She looked over her shoulder and noticed that the man in the T-shirt had passed without incident and was effectively ignoring them. Had she been wrong about him? Was he truly a threat or was the danger only a product of her overactive imagination?

“We were just heading back to our room,” Miss Abigail volunteered, giving Alex her best smile and totally unaware of Chelsea’s angst. “Care to escort a couple of beautiful ladies back to the suite?”

“I’d be honored,” Alex replied as he held out his arm. He patted Miss Abigail’s hand when she placed it on his biceps. “Do you think you might have some time later to discuss your legal documents? I wanted to go over them with you today if we could.”

“Nonsense,” Miss Abigail replied. “Today is not a day for paperwork. It’s a day to enjoy the sun and recover from that long airplane ride.”

Chelsea ignored the rest of their banter and took one last look at the man in the blue T-shirt. He had turned now and was watching them leave with a measuring eye as he sipped his soda at the bar. Slowly he reached behind him and pulled his Braves cap out of his pocket, then he put it on and smiled directly at her.

Chelsea tightened her grip on her computer, trying to mask her fear. He was following her. He was the man from the airport. No wonder he had seemed familiar. Was he working for Justin Carver? Surely if he was, he’d have made some attempt to attack her rather than just watch her. No, her secret was probably safe—for now. But who was he and what did he want? And most importantly, how could she protect herself? Indecision pulled at her and she felt a knot tighten in her stomach. Although there were people all around her, she felt quite vulnerable and alone. What should she do? Where could she go to be safe?

FOUR

The next morning Chelsea was up early, packing the trunk of the rental car for their planned morning trip to the national park at the top of Haleakala, one of the island’s volcanos. Apparently it was the best place on the island to watch the sunrise and enjoy a picnic breakfast. Chelsea stowed another bag, then closed the trunk. She was anxious to be under way. The sooner they were away from the hotel, the lesser chance she had of running into the man with the baseball cap again. So far, she hadn’t seen him since the pool, but she was keeping a wary eye on her surroundings just in case.

“Are you ready to go?”

Chelsea jumped at the sound of Alex’s voice and turned to see him approaching. “Almost. Miss Abigail stopped at the front desk for a moment and asked me to get these bags loaded into the car. She should be here any minute.”

She picked up her camera bag and took a step back. Why was he staring at her like that? His look was so intense that for a moment she wondered if he had somehow discovered who she really was. The thought made her subconsciously retreat another step, then another.

She gave herself a mental shake. Alex couldn’t possibly know who she was and she refused to believe anyone who was an old friend of Miss Abigail’s could have any connection to Justin Carver. She still hadn’t figured out why Alex was so intent on digging into her past, but he had been nothing but kind and compassionate with Miss Abigail, and she found herself actually admiring him for that in spite of his gruff demeanor. She remained hopeful that he would be pleasant and congenial during the day’s activities. She realized that the less Alex knew about her the better. But living in such anonymity was a lonely existence and having an adult conversation with someone her own age was rare these days and even tempting.

Still, the more she thought about it, the more she realized the futility of getting to know him or anyone else any better. With Carver after her, there was no way she could have an honest or lasting friendship with anyone. The thought was a difficult reality to accept.

She glanced up at Alex’s face and noted that his steel-gray eyes were still studying her. She cringed inwardly. The best course of action was just to avoid him as much as possible, despite the loneliness she was feeling. She moved toward the rear door of the vehicle. Hopefully he would leave in a day or two and forget that she even existed.

“Any idea how long this jaunt is supposed to take?” Alex asked, breaking her train of thought.

“It depends upon how much time Miss Abigail wants to spend on top of the mountain.” She paused. “I thought you were too busy to spend time with us today, Mr. Sullivan. Aren’t you leaving soon?”

Alex narrowed his eyes. “Eager to be rid of me?”

Chelsea shrugged. “No. I’m just trying to figure out what a busy attorney like you is doing in Maui in the first place. It’s obvious you don’t want to be here. You’ve made that quite clear.”

“Have I?”

Chelsea’s hands stilled. “Yes. Why are you here, Mr. Sullivan?”

Their eyes locked for a moment, neither one willing to give up any information. She looked away first and opened the car door. She didn’t care about winning this battle of wills. All she really had to do was keep Alex Sullivan from discovering her past. Not only would she probably lose her job with Miss Abigail if he found out, but he would also undoubtedly make her go to the police. She wasn’t ready to do that without more proof. Besides, trying to stay away from the man with the cap and worrying about the note were stressful enough. She didn’t need to engage in a verbal sparring event with Alex Sullivan just because he seemed suspicious of her for whatever reason.

“Alex! I’m so glad you’re joining us!” Miss Abigail gushed as she approached, giving him a big kiss. “Let’s hit the road, folks. I’m not getting any younger and the sun will be up before you know it.”

Alex raised an eyebrow at Chelsea, then released the door and leaned over to give Miss Abigail a quick kiss on the cheek. “Your wish is my command. Shall we go?”

Chelsea got in the backseat, the anxiety pulsing through her. Whatever Alex’s reason for coming to Hawaii, it seemed he wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. And that meant she’d have to put up with his probing stares and persistent questions for at least a while longer.

An hour and a half later, Alex, Chelsea and Miss Abigail got out of their car and made their way over to the observation look-out deck. The trip up had been uneventful, with little conversation since neither Chelsea nor Miss Abigail had wanted to distract Alex as he negotiated the narrow roadway on the way up the mountain. Although it was only twenty-two miles from the base of the mountain to the overlook at the top, the trip had taken much longer than they’d expected because of the winding roads and hairpin turns.

Once at the park, Alex unfolded the portable chairs they had borrowed from the hotel and the three of them sat and faced the east, waiting for the show to begin. By the time they were situated a faint light was already beginning to brighten the sky on the horizon. For the next twenty minutes they sat in awestruck wonder as God painted the heavens with beautiful colors and lit up the valley below with reflections of the morning light. Pale pinks and purples colored the lava beds and mirrored the pastels from the sky. It was truly spectacular.

Chelsea took several photos with her 35 mm digital camera, then stood and checked on Miss Abigail. So far she hadn’t seen any signs of danger on their trip, but she constantly scanned the other tourists at the park, keeping her eyes open for the man with the Braves cap just in case he’d managed to discover her location. And what if he wasn’t alone? What if the man with the cap was working with others that she couldn’t recognize? Suddenly her apprehension was too much to handle and she knew she had to move around before the stress consumed her.

“Would you mind if I walked around and took a few more pictures, Miss Abigail?”

“Not at all, dear,” the older lady said sweetly as she patted Chelsea’s hand. “You take all the time you want. I’m just going to sit here and enjoy this marvelous view.”

Chelsea smiled, then stood and started walking along the ridge to capture different angles. She was an avid amateur photographer and tried to let herself get lost in composing her photographs and enjoying the beauty around her. It didn’t work—she was too tense. She heard the crunch of rock and peeked back quickly. Just Alex—not a threat to her safety, just a threat to her peace of mind. A knot tightened in her stomach as she prepared for the battle. She turned and looked at him, but instead of antagonism she saw a question in his eyes.

“Are you going to take a whole roll up here?” His voice was tinged with disbelief as he put his hands in his pockets and watched her with the camera.

Chelsea shrugged, determined that he wasn’t going to rattle her today, despite his constant questions and barely veiled suspicion of her. She crouched and took another shot, getting one of the sun just as it was breaking over the horizon. “Hardly anyone uses film anymore, Mr. Sullivan. This is a digital camera, so I can take hundreds of photos and just delete the ones I don’t want. Sometimes I need to take a whole slew of shots to get that one special photograph.” She adjusted the focus on her Canon and peered through the viewfinder. “Do you have a hobby?”

Alex grimaced. “I don’t have time for hobbies. I have a law practice to run.”

“You’re missing out,” Chelsea said quietly. She stood and their eyes locked. Despite the frustration she saw in his gray depths, an emptiness she hadn’t expected reached out to her.

Miss Abigail had told her that Alex Sullivan basically lived at his office and worked seventy-hour work weeks. Maybe she could help him enjoy a small part of Maui before he returned to that single-minded existence. She took the strap off of her neck and handed him the camera. “Pictures tell a story, Mr. Sullivan, just like an attorney giving an opening statement. Take a look.”

Alex paused a moment as if considering her analogy, then shrugged and took the camera. He pointed the viewfinder toward the valley and turned slowly, looking around at the different landscape that surrounded him. “It all looks the same to me.” He shrugged. “Everything is a fuzzy blur.”

Chelsea laughed and gently reached over to adjust a setting on the top of the camera, then guided his index finger to the button on the top right of the body. His skin was warm and to her own surprise, she enjoyed the touch. “Okay, it’s on automatic focus now. Just push this button halfway down. Yes, that’s it. Now it will focus for you. When you’re ready to take a shot, push the button all the way down until you hear a click.”

Alex played with the focus for a while, slowly pointing the lens at different views of the valley and snapping a few pictures. Then, to her amazement, he turned the camera toward her and took a few shots. She laughed and covered her face with her hands and waved him away, but he took a few more anyway, ignoring her protests. Finally he pulled the camera away from his eye.

“So you take a hundred photos of the same thing. Then what?”

She turned the camera over and showed him how to scroll through the pictures he had taken and delete the ones he didn’t want. “The best ones I print and put in albums. Occasionally, I frame one and put it on my wall. I don’t buy very many souvenirs when I travel. My pictures are great reminders of my trips.”

“Do you travel a lot?”

The question was asked in a casual way, but Chelsea raised any eyebrow to show that she understood that he was again probing for more information about her background.

“Not as much as I’d like. I usually enjoy exploring new places and meeting new people.” She grinned pointedly at him. “Usually, that is.”

Alex continued to scroll through the pictures, ignoring her subtle gibe. “So where have you visited?”

Chelsea reached for the camera, but Alex moved slightly, keeping it just out of her reach, and continued to peruse her photographs. “Several different states. A few countries. This is my first trip to Hawaii. Have you been here before?”

“No, I don’t have time to travel much.” He paused and then slowly looked away from her camera and captured her eyes with his own. “You’ve got some really pretty photos on here, and also a lot of pictures of various men—all of whom look kind of rough.” He showed her one of the pictures. “Is this a friend of yours?”

Chelsea felt her pulse accelerate. Why hadn’t she deleted those pictures? There had been several times since she had escaped from Carver that she had worried that someone was following her, so she had taken pictures of the suspicious men to help her remember their faces, just in case. So far, each had been a false alarm, but she’d kept up her surveillance, regardless. In her book, it couldn’t hurt to be too careful. But how could she explain that to Alex? She crinkled her nose and rubbed her arms, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for the photos and warm up at the same time. The altitude was 7,000 feet above sea level and it was definitely cooler here than it was at the beaches below.

She bit her bottom lip. Struggle as she might for a plausible reason for the photos, her mind drew a blank. She chose to evade the subject and furtively hoped that he would let it drop. “I’d better go check on Miss Abigail. Hopefully the walk will warm me up—it’s kind of chilly up here. Are you ready for breakfast?”

Alex slipped off his fleece jacket and handed it to her with a frown. He’d obviously noticed that she had avoided the question, but he didn’t push, despite the query in his eyes. “Here. I can’t have you freezing.”

She took the jacket gratefully and hugged it around her. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” It warmed her instantly and smelled fresh, clean and masculine. Strange how the simple gesture of him lending her his jacket made her feel not just warmer but safer, as if she could count on him to look after her.

Strange thought, indeed. She knew better than that—she could count on no one but herself.

* * *

After returning to Miss Abigail, they breakfasted on shaved honey ham, Hawaiian sweet rolls and sharp cheddar cheese. Chelsea had also found some fresh pineapple at the deli and a few other tropical fruits to round off the meal. She had even brought a jug of freshly squeezed orange juice and little paper cups emblazoned with the hotel logo.

The food was simple yet satisfying, and Alex felt himself watching Chelsea as she served the small breakfast, filled with a sense of peace he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Her eyes danced as she talked and she moved with a grace he had rarely seen. Could this woman really be a criminal? She sure didn’t fit the scheming stereotype he had in his mind. But then, would any con artist be easy to spot? After all, his fiancée had sure pulled the wool over his eyes before her true character had been revealed. Irene had professed her love one day and the next tried to steal his client’s secrets so she could sell them to his client’s adversary. Her treachery had been a bitter pill to swallow and still squeezed his heart whenever he thought about it.

He eyed Chelsea critically. Was it possible she was just a great actress, playing a part? Who was the real Chelsea? She was definitely hiding something. His investigator’s inquiries had proved that. But what? And who were all of those men on her camera? His mind swept through various possibilities as they finished breakfast, but he still didn’t know enough about her to really come to any conclusions. As much as he hated to change his plans yet again, he realized that learning about Chelsea and her motives was going to take much longer than he had anticipated. He would probably need to extend his trip if he was going to find out the truth. He patted his pocket where he had stashed the paper cup she had been using and hoped that Tony would be able to get the fingerprints off of it without any problems.

Several other people were milling around the observation deck and the antics of a three-year-old boy captured his attention. The child was very energetic and was throwing rocks over the railing whenever his parents weren’t looking. Alex smiled and then scanned some of the other people who were also standing along the railing. Most were engrossed with the view, but then he noticed a man wearing a Braves cap who seemed to be watching Miss Abigail and Chelsea with a careful eye. Was it the same man from the plane? He tried to remember the features of the man but couldn’t recall much besides the baseball cap. Surely there was more than one Braves fan in Maui.

This man was large, with dirty-blond hair catching the light in spite of his cap. He looked to be about thirty years old. At first Alex thought he was just being overly suspicious, but as Chelsea started to pack up the remains of their breakfast and take some of their belongings back to the rental car, he noticed the man’s eyes continue to follow her movements. He was definitely watching her. The hair on Alex’s neck prickled. He stood abruptly and started toward the stranger.

The man seemed startled at Alex’s movement and for a moment their eyes locked. The menace Alex saw was palpable, but suddenly the other man turned and quickly strode away. Alex hesitated, torn between the desire to chase the man down and demand answers as to why he was watching them or to stay and make sure the women were safe.

“Is everything okay?” Chelsea asked as she came up and stood beside him.

“You tell me,” he answered, keeping his voice low enough so that only she could hear him. “There was a man watching us—Braves cap, shaggy blond hair. I think he was on our flight—but he just walked away rather quickly and disappeared toward the northern observation area.” He saw Chelsea’s face visibly pale at his words and she took a step back. He took a step forward. “Do you know the guy?”

Chelsea shook her head. “I don’t know anyone in Hawaii.”

“Are you sure? I’d say he’s about thirty years old. Dark eyes, heavy. Probably a drinker by the look of his face. He seemed dangerous.”

Chelsea’s hands started shaking at his words and she quickly thrust them into the pockets of the jacket. “Maybe we should get Miss Abigail back to the hotel now, just to be safe.”

Alex nodded, keeping a wary eye on Chelsea. “You seem pretty scared for someone who claims not to know the man.”

Chelsea raised her eyes and took another step back. “I don’t know anyone in Hawaii,” she repeated. “I’ll finish packing things up so we can go.” She turned abruptly and quickly started putting up the folding chairs, effectively ending their conversation. Alex paused for a moment, torn between pushing her further for more information and letting the subject drop for now. He finally moved to her side and starting packing up his own chair, but didn’t ask her any more questions. Miss Abigail was close enough to overhear them and Alex didn’t want to upset or worry the elderly lady. But talk they would, as soon as they returned to the hotel. It was time to get some answers, whether Chelsea wanted to give them or not.

It didn’t take them long to get Miss Abigail ensconced in the car and within a few minutes they were on the road, heading back down the mountain. Alex continued his perusal of Miss Abigail’s assistant as he drove, listening carefully to every word she uttered in the hope that she would give more of herself away. Although she always had a kind word for Miss Abigail, he noticed that she never said anything personal about herself or her history during any of the conversations.

Alex eased around a bend in the road, then noticed a black SUV coming up fast behind him. The road was narrow with no space to pass, but the other driver was apparently in a hurry and immediately started riding his bumper. Alex tapped the brake and glanced in his mirror, catching sight of a man’s silhouette in the driver’s seat. He couldn’t see the man’s features, but did note that he was wearing a baseball cap and dark glasses. A wave of apprehension swept over him. Was it the man with the Braves cap?

Instead of backing off when Alex slowed, the SUV came closer. Suddenly both Chelsea and Miss Abigail noticed Alex’s concern and looked behind them to see what was happening.

“Why is that man so close?” Miss Abigail asked, her tone filled with worry, her eyes wide.

“He must be in an awfully big hurry,” Chelsea added. She leaned closer to the window. “Is that the same man you saw at the park?”

“I think so,” Alex said tightly. He kept his eye on the SUV and at the same time handed Chelsea his cell phone. “Call 9-1-1. This guy seems determined to cause us trouble today.”

Suddenly the car lurched as the SUV slammed into the rear bumper. Both women screamed and Alex tightened his grip on the wheel and tried to control the car on the narrow, dangerous road. Was this maniac trying to kill them all?

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