Love Inspired Suspense June 2015 #1 (46 page)

“I had nothing to do with this incident, if that's what you're insinuating.”

“Then tell me who else knew! Because if you're the only one, you're going to need a lawyer. I'm not going to sit back and allow you to put people in harm's way for an inconsequential show on the telly.”

Troy huffed. He unbuttoned the dark green suit that looked tailor-made and closed in on Colm. “Inconsequential show? Need I remind you of the Dublin prison you would call home if it wasn't for that show? Now, I don't know anything about a hot wire. And I can't say for certain who else knew about the installation. But if you want to call it quits and head back to your filthy neighborhood, go right ahead.”

“No.” Gretchen intervened before she lost her one chance at making a go of her business. “As much as I want to send you all packing right now, I can't. I...I...”

“You what?” Colm demanded. “You
need
us? Is that what you were going to say? It's not that hard, you know. Go ahead, try it. ‘I need you.' Say it.”

“You know I do. I hate it more than anything, but I need you to start this business. I need you to help me begin my life again. There, you happy?”

“I won't be happy until you call the sheriff's department and report these incidents.”

“Then you might as well start swimming for the mainland now, because if I let the islanders know what's going on, they will use it to put a stop to the renovation and the opening of The Morning Glory. Don't you see?”

“The only thing I see is a woman with a lot of enemies who needs a bodyguard, not a construction crew. What
I
would hate more than anything is to see you get killed.” Colm's jaw trembled with pent-up anger. He stomped away, clenching and unclenching his fists. He stopped suddenly and turned back, and Gretchen caught a glimpse of the street-fighting Colm.

Her heart jumped into her throat, but just as fast as it came, his anger turned to sadness and his shoulders slumped. He let out a sigh. “Just call the sheriff, Gretchen. Please.”

The pleading look he gave her nearly made her nod. She had to avert her attention away from his face.

“Then at least watch where you walk and what you touch. This place is a ticking time bomb. I need to go shut the power off for Sly.”

She watched in silence as Colm walked to the back of the house where the exterior entrance to the basement was located.

“You don't fool me,” Troy said from behind her. She had nearly forgotten he stood there, witnessing her and Colm's confrontation.

“What are you talking about?”

He pressed close with two steps of his long legs. “You just told me there was nothing between you and McCrae. Three months ago, when I asked you out you also told me you would not be involved with another man for the rest of your life. Your words don't speak as loud as your actions.” He leaned down so their faces were inches apart. His eyes turned beady and severe. She studied them with growing concern for her safety.

This is what danger looks like
.

“I know there's something between the two of you.” Troy spoke low and evenly. “I've watched the footage when the two of you are on camera together. The chemistry is off the charts. But there's something you should know about Colm and his type of chemistry—things tend to blow up around him.”

“Like the fight you ransomed him from for your gain?”

Troy laughed but kept his voice quiet. “You mean when I saved him from a jail cell?”

“He was attacked.”

“So he says.” Troy straightened. He dusted off the lapel of his fancy suit. “You know, I think I'm going to let this little fling continue. If nothing else, I'll make a pretty penny off this episode. People who don't even care about home renovating will keep the channel tuned in just to see what happens between the two of you. Do me a favor, though—save these quarrels for the camera. The viewers will eat them up.” He flashed his too-white teeth and stepped toward the house.

Gretchen's hand went to her chest where she could feel it tightening. The events of the day and Troy's demeanor were doing a number on her breathing. She looked to her bedroom window and wondered if she had an old inhaler upstairs in her medicine chest.

“Oh, and, Gretchen,” Troy called out. He continued to walk on as though he knew she still stood by. “Just so you know, my offer stands. When you're done slumming with McCrae, you know where to find me. Especially since I now know you haven't really sworn off men. You just like the heavy hitters.” He disappeared around the back of the house, and she heard the first wheeze in her chest.

* * *

Colm stepped down the hatchway stairs. At the landing he pulled the bulb string overhead to light his way and noticed the metal casing straight across on the far wall. The electrical panel showed Gretchen had done a fine job updating the fuses to breakers. The woman really was quite talented to be able to handle these tasks on her own. It was too bad she never went to college. Or, more appropriately, wasn't allowed to go to college.

“I've seen the hold a person can have over another. Even a smart one such as yourself, Gretchen. But if I do nothing else for you here, I will do my best to show you you never deserved that kind of treatment. I promise,” he vowed aloud and flipped the breaker. The basement went dark...but not silent.

A thudding noise came from his right. The sunlight streamed down the stairs but the rest of the basement remained in the shadows and gave no clues to what caused the noise. He listened for more but heard nothing.

A scraping sound from behind made him whip around, but before he could move three inches, pain exploded in his head. His knees gave out beneath him and the cold dirt floor abruptly met his cheek. Colm bounced twice as a different kind of darkness seeped into his mind.

Gretchen
. He said her name again and again but wasn't positive his lips actually formed any sound. If they were anything like his useless limbs, he only thought her name.

But he had to move. Without his protection, she would be in more danger now than ever. He had to get to her, but his body wouldn't budge. A black swirl hovered over him. The desire to let it take him over strengthened, but he clenched his jaw and lifted his head enough to see a blurred movement on the hatchway stairs. A flash of the color green mixed with the blackness threatening to overtake him. He had to let it, and his cheek met dirt again.

Was the person wearing green? Was that where the color came from? Colm forced his throbbing head back up and squinted to look again, but suddenly the doors closed, shutting out all light.

And all hope of him keeping any of the promises he made to Gretchen.

SIX

G
retchen wheezed a bit as she skirted the orange construction cone covering the hole in her floor. She took a step up her railing-less foyer staircase, hoping her old spare inhaler awaited her upstairs, and hoping she wouldn't meet another mishap along the way.

Was a business really more important than her life?
Colm had asked.

Her answer was no, of course, but the lack of a staircase railing was only a small example of all the work that needed to be completed before she could open for business. Without the crew, she'd never see her grand opening.

Her foot landed gently on the next tread without a bomb going off. Colm's other words alternated with his question:
Please watch where you walk and what you touch.
He had her second-guessing her every move.

Check that.

Whoever was setting up these guerilla traps had her second-guessing her every move. Even washing her hands would come with the question:
Am I going to die when I turn on this faucet?

Her feet hit the top step with no outright ambushes. She inhaled without a wheeze and took that as a good sign. Still, she wanted her inhaler with her, even if only a few puffs were left on it. It was better than nothing if this subtle asthma issue became a full attack.

In the bathroom, the sight of her pale complexion in the medicine cabinet's mirror pulled her up short. She looked defeated.

But by whom?

Billy?

Troy?

Her mother? Gretchen scoffed at the idea but really couldn't put it past the great and powerful Tildy Bauer. The woman practically ran the town. What had Gretchen been thinking when she thought she could break out from under Tildy's controlling thumb? It cut her deep that she even had to. Her own mother had chosen Billy's side over her daughter's. Tildy never believed in her, not even when she was a child. Gretchen's chest tightened and she pulled the door wide to find the inhaler. The counter dial on it said it had one dose left. She closed the door and held it to her lips but didn't press down to release the medicine.

She studied her face and eyes. Her white face may have said the fight was over, but the eyes said not yet.

But who was her adversary?

An image of Colm and his clenched fists popped into her head.

She quickly dismissed it. It couldn't be Colm. He abhorred men mistreating women. The last time he had witnessed a woman being insulted, he was nearly thrown in jail for defending her.

But he hadn't been.

Instead he got the job of a lifetime.

Seemed to have benefited him well.

So what? She couldn't fault the guy for receiving a blessing from God. She dismissed the direction her mind took with Colm. He was on her side. Thanks to him she wasn't alone in this fight.

Gretchen removed the inhaler and pocketed it. The idea of having someone on her side gave her all the lift she needed.

The idea that it was Colm had the color rushing back to her cheeks.

In addition to her flushed cheeks, though, guilt reflected back at her. “He's only a friend,” she said aloud, but didn't miss the way her lips frowned at her claim.

Before she talked herself into easing up on her vow of independence, she headed to the Sea View room's bath, where the pipe incident had occurred. No one was around now but Gretchen could see the hot wire had been removed. She flicked the lights, but nothing happened. Why hadn't Colm turned the power back on? As she turned to walk out, she noticed his bucket of tools tipped over and its contents spilled.

She also noticed his tools were shiny and new.

She laughed. During filming, she had been joking, but Troy really didn't let Colm use the tools.

Typically, he carried his bucket with him, but could it be all an act? What had he said in his typical Dublin lingo?
I'm as handy as an ashtray on a motorbike.

Was that the truth? Was Colm McCrae nothing but a face on TV? The idea clutched at her heart. There had to be more to him than looks and a smooth voice.

Please, God, don't let him be another smooth-talker. I don't think my judgment of character could take another hit.

Gretchen knelt to right the bucket. She tossed a few wrenches and screwdrivers back into it, then picked up his jigsaw cutter. She dropped it and went after a tape measure lying a foot away. She placed that inside as well, but just as she stood, she noticed the jigsaw had overturned with its blade up. Except it wasn't up. On further inspection, she saw it was bent.

Why would Colm have a bent jigsaw blade? He must have used the saw for something too thick. Something like...

Gretchen paused and craned her neck toward the stairs.

Something like her wooden floorboards?

Was the bent blade proof that Colm was behind cutting her floor? She didn't want to believe it but he had been on the property when she returned home that first day. Could it have been him all along?

A pain of betrayal zinged her worse than the voltage had. She may have questioned Colm's involvement when she first met him, but deep down, she didn't believe him to be the source.

How could she not, now?

But why would he do such a thing?

Maybe setting up these mishaps was his way of breaking away from Troy to start out on his own, so he'd make all the money. All Colm had to do was stage a few accidents, come running into the fray to rescue her like a knight in shining armor—or the handsome host in stage makeup in his case. Get the viewers to love him and his chivalrous ways, and just as Troy had said, the viewers would eat it up.

But would Colm really have tried to electrocute her on film? Maybe he would have pulled her out of the way before she grabbed hold of the electrified pipe.

Maybe not.

Gretchen wheezed but refrained from reaching for the inhaler. She'd need the last puff for backup.

Because she wasn't giving up yet.

From now on, though, she would keep a watchful eye on every person, including Colm. She also wouldn't share what she planned to work on with anyone beforehand. There would be no time for someone to sabotage her efforts the way he or she had with the pipe.

With her plan set, Gretchen reached for the jigsaw and headed downstairs. She had to see his face when she showed it to him. She hoped he had nothing to do with it, but if he did, she hoped he wouldn't deny it. She didn't think she could take another's lies.

Gretchen burst out her front door and hurried around the house. The trailers were off in the distance, and she picked up her steps through the grass.

“Help!” A call from above pulled her up short.

She gave a quick look to see Ethan standing on top of a ladder, holding on to the shutters to one of the upstairs windows, his knuckles white.

“Is everything all right?” Gretchen walked over, peering up at the painter, who looked as though he'd never stepped foot on a ladder before.
A renovation TV host who doesn't know what blade to use when cutting wood. A painter who doesn't know how to use a ladder
.

Ludicrous didn't come close to describing these scenarios. What kind of crew had she invited?

“Am I glad to see you. Everyone's at lunch, and I need someone to hold the ladder so it doesn't tip back. Would you mind?”

Gretchen controlled the face she wanted to make. “Sure, no problem,” she said and tossed the jigsaw down onto the grass so she could brace the ladder with both hands. “Come on down.”

As soon as Ethan let go of the shutter, it swung out. He must have broken it away from the house when he reached out to steady himself before.

This eye roll she let go.

A moment later, pain sprang to her neck. “Ow!” She let go of the ladder to reach for her neck. Then pain struck her arm. A third occurred on the other side of her neck. Buzzing erupted on her left side.

Bees. Bees were all around her!

Gretchen looked up to see a swarm chasing Ethan down the ladder and backed away as two more stung her. “Ethan! Hurry up!” she yelled, swatting more away from her face.

“Go, Gretchen! Run around to the back of the house. Get away from here!” Ethan jumped from the eighth rung and landed in front of her. He grabbed her arm to run with him.

They came around the house at full speed and there stood Colm.

She ran straight for him and reached out to push him back. “Bees! Come on! We have to get away!”

In her pushing, she felt him panting as though he had just exerted all his energy in doing something. In the next second, his arms tightened around her and he lifted her up and ran for the barn. She burrowed into his neck and felt the comfort he offered in this terrifying moment.

Another terrifying moment.

Gretchen lifted her head to watch the determination in his handsome face. A savior to the rescue...again.

She looked over her shoulder to the spot she'd run into his arms.

It was as though Colm knew Ethan would lead her to that exact spot and had been waiting for her.

Had they been in on this together? Did he work in sync with his painter as he did with his cameraman?

Gretchen didn't have to look around to know the camera was rolling. But she did and sure enough, Nate approached with his camera on his shoulder.

Inside the barn Ethan reached for her and together the two men brought her to the ground. “Gretchen, your breathing sounds labored. Are you allergic to bees?”

Labored?
That was when she heard the wheezing louder with every breath. The asthma attack threatening all day was in full swing.

“That's it. I'm calling 911,” Colm announced and walked to Nate who handed him a phone.

“I'm...not...aller...gic,” Gretchen huffed between short breaths. She needed her backup. Her last puff in the canister. Gretchen retrieved the inhaler and filled her lungs with medicine. “Asthma.”

“They're on their way,” Colm said with the phone to his ear, his hand rubbing the back of his head. “Hang tight, Goldie. I'm going to get to the bottom of this, today.”

She didn't care if the camera was on them or not. She opened her mouth, and with a loud voice she said, “The only place you're going...is back to...jail.”

* * *

Colm stood off to Ethan's side while the painter rubbed Gretchen's back. Every swirl of his hand brought on a wave of unwanted jealousy that at one point in Colm's life wouldn't have ended well for Ethan. Now, he knew enough that the feeling stirring in him didn't mean he should go a row with the guy. It only meant he wanted to be the one comforting Gretchen.

But she didn't want him anywhere near her.

“Gretchen, I had nothing to do with this,” Colm said to all four pairs of ears. It was no use explaining his plight. The pain in his head made it nearly impossible anyway. He dared not mention the attack on him yet. Not without a clue as to who had knocked him out. Colm would bide his time until he had the sheriff's ear to fill. He meant it when he said he would get to the bottom of this today. But he would do it legit.

Sirens blared through the trees off in the distance, but Colm's eyes stayed focused on Gretchen. Her breathing had evened out since she'd taken the puff from her inhaler, but with her face turned away from him he couldn't be sure she was out of the woods. Regardless of her lack of trust, Colm thanked God for protecting her.
Please, Lord, continue to protect her from whatever game someone is playing here. Someone who might be standing with us right now.

The crowd grew; more of the crew came to see what was happening. Two sheriff's department vehicles screamed into the driveway, along with an old medical service station wagon. The sheriff was taking this call seriously, and Colm liked him already for it. He stepped up to meet the clean-cut military-looking man getting out of his vehicle.

“That's the man I told you about, Sheriff,” the blond-headed officer getting out of the other cruiser said. “The one who held me down.”

A quick glance told him it was the deputy who'd punched him, but Colm was sure the man had left that part out. “We can talk about that later. It's Gretchen who needs help.”

“I'm fine. It was just my asthma, Owen.” Colm turned to find her on her feet, addressing the sheriff. Colm gave her a small smile, but she didn't return it. “I just need another inhaler. I'm all out.”

“Gretchen,” the sheriff said, “why don't you let Dr. Schaffer take you to the clinic to examine you?”

“No, I told you it was only my asthma. I got a few bee stings, but I'm fine. Ethan was stung, too. Maybe he needs Doc's help.”

“I'm all right,” Ethan said. “We got away in time.”

The sheriff's passenger-side car door opened and out stepped an older woman with a bleached-blond bouffant. She wore some type of blue authentic German dress with a white ruffled blouse. She looked like a cute older lady, except for the pure disdain she leveled at Colm. He had no idea who she was, but he knew already she didn't like him.

“Mom, what are you doing here?” Gretchen stepped up beside him, her arm brushed his, and Colm thought she might grab on. Whether she did or not, Colm would stand by in case she needed him.

“I came to ask you one more time to stop all these pipe dreams and come home.” The woman's voice was gruff, and she looked used to giving orders
and
getting her way. Until now. No wonder Gretchen felt she had something to prove to her mother. She'd probably spent her whole life following orders, first from her mom, then from her boyfriend.

“With all due respect, ma'am, Gretchen will make a smart business owner. She has quite the head on her shoulders and will have a fine home right here. She's quite handy.”

“Then why does she need you?”

“I don't,” Gretchen said and stood away from him. It hit him straight to the heart.

“Len told me about the hole in the floor and how someone cut it,” her mother went on. “You've brought danger to this island by inviting these strangers. And now Len's painting is gone.”