Private Bodyguard (11 page)

Chapter Thirteen

Debrah and Andrew Smith had both come from money, but that didn't stop them from wanting more. They took to the business world, becoming a force many respected. Debrah and Andrew were inspiring. The perfect role models for a child with a growing mind like Darling.

So when Darling's childhood friend Annmarie Moreno's father accused the tycoons of running a string of Ponzi schemes, everyone including Darling couldn't help but not believe him. It was absurd, she had thought, but Annmarie's father didn't back down.

So Debrah and Andrew made sure to prove him wrong, in a very public way. A newspaper article and a televised interview painted a picture of their innocence, and their accuser's jealousy and greed.

It ruined his career and social standing in the community. He left the city with Annmarie and life returned to normal.

Until Darling received an anonymous email claiming the evidence that her parents were lying was about to be thrown out. She was given an address and told what to look for, and less than thirty minutes later, Darling's entire world had changed.

That was also the first time she had ever met Oliver—standing in a Dumpster, holding the first clue in a series that would prove her parents had lied.

And destroyed a man's life because of it.

Since then she'd gone down the rabbit hole and found nothing but corruption. Bold-faced lies that built up until the moment she realized they would travel great lengths to ensure their fame and fortune were never threatened. That was the moment she asked Oliver to run away with her. Little did she know as she stood there watching him walk away, tears blurring her vision, that within the month, she would be on a plane to Maine, to a small town named Mulligan.

Now, as Darling pressed her hands to her cheeks, unable to feel her tears, she mused how her end felt intrinsically connected to the beginning of her adulthood.

Corruption.

Despair.

Oliver.

The last point—the man with golden hair—didn't hold the same dark weight as the first two points. Even if he had denied her all those years ago, she couldn't find the heat behind her anger for it. In fact, she realized the anger wasn't there at all anymore. She liked the life she had made since. She liked to think she had made a difference and left a mark in the lives of those she had met and helped through the years.

All Darling felt now was a needling of regret.

She should have kissed Oliver when she had the chance.

Thinking of kissing him replaced an ounce of cold with an ounce of warmth. She hoped she could hold on to it for a long while.

Darling closed her eyes, took a deep breath and stood. It wasn't the most graceful of movements, and she did struggle, but in the end she was back on her feet.

The moonlight hadn't waned while she had reveled in her breakdown. She let her eyes adjust and started to turn in a circle to see if she could make out anything else. She stopped halfway through the cycle.

She was in a field of short, dead grass. A tree line darkened the distance, giving her no bearings for where she actually was. However, it was the hunk of black metal to her direct right that made her heart flutter. Without the moonlight, she might not ever have seen the car.

With an extreme amount of caution, she dragged her heavy feet and closed the space between her and her possible savior. Darling wasn't sure if she wanted someone to be in the car or not. Her rising grief and fear had kept the idea of her attacker being nearby from her mind. What if this was her attacker's car? But why would the attacker still be here? If her body hadn't been numb, she would have felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand as the idea of someone staying behind to watch her crept in.

No one jumped out from behind the car to grab her as she neared it. She circled it anyway. Better to see the attacker now than drop her guard and be surprised later. It wasn't as if she had much of a chance to defend herself either time, though. When she was satisfied she was alone, she peered into the car to find it was empty save for some clutter in the front seat floorboards. She tried the driver's door handle and let out a shaky breath. It was locked.

The other doors also wouldn't open. Scouting the immediate area, she found a rock that fitted in the palm of her hand. Squaring her shoulder, she approached the backseat's right window.

She threw the rock and watched as the window only cracked.

“Co-come on!”

She scooped the rock back up and threw it again. This time it missed the window completely. Trying to aim when you couldn't feel your throwing arm or hand was definitely difficult. The third time she was able to widen the crack. At this rate she would freeze where she stood.

I can't feel my face
, she thought with a new sense of determination.
I need to get into this car.

This time she gripped the rock and took a deep, shuddering breath.

Go through the window.

The sound of glass shattering cut through the silence.

She dropped the rock, ignoring how the new cut across her hand dripped blood, and unlocked the back door. Reaching around the front seats, she hit the unlock button for the rest of the doors. It felt like so much work, but she finally managed to sit behind the wheel with a slight feeling of accomplishment.

There were no keys in the ignition or anywhere else in the car, as far as she could tell. Her inner optimist hung her head. The center console had CDs in it, and the glove compartment was filled with napkins. Food wrappers littered the floorboard. A silver watch stuck out from under one. but Darling had little use for that. The small hope that she would be able to drive away or, at the very least, turn the heater on, withered away as the rest of her search turned up empty.

She would have to wait it out until the sun came up. The car was a few degrees warmer than outside. If the wind was kept at bay, she might survive the night. In a last-ditch effort to find something to save her, she hit the button that popped the trunk. Once more she pushed back out into the cold.

The trunk contents didn't give her any relief. A bag of tools and a greasy, balled-up hand towel. Darling cursed but grabbed the towel and, after a quick thought, the yellow-handled hammer. She settled back into the driver's seat and locked the doors. She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her head on top, draping the hand towel over her shins. It didn't warm her, but at least it was something.

A few minutes went by. Exhaustion was trying to drag her into sleep.

Leaving her naked in the cold Maine darkness sent a pretty clear message. Someone wanted her to die but didn't want to get their hands dirty.

Darling just hoped she could make whoever that was regret it. She might have been naked, hurt and as cold as a Popsicle, but she wasn't dead. Debrah and Andrew Smith had passed on the drive that kept Darling from cracking again.

With a small smile, Darling formed a thought so clear she wondered if she had actually said it out loud.

You should have killed me when you had the chance.

* * *

O
LIVER
WAS
SECONDS
from calling Rachel for the third time when the chief jogged over to him. There was no mistaking he was excited.

“We tracked her phone!”

“What?” Oliver followed him to the cars when he didn't stop. “I thought you couldn't if the phone was off.”

“We can't. It just came back on.” Oliver's mouth opened in surprise.

“I'll follow you.”

He left no room for the chief to mistake his statement as a request. For the first time since he had met the man hours before, the older man laughed.

“I knew you would.”

Chapter Fourteen

Oliver drove, white-knuckled, in a convoy to the point where Darling Smith's phone was located. The sun was starting to rise, creating a crisp blue landscape without a cloud to blemish it. Under different circumstances, he would have called it serene and even beautiful. However, his heart was in his throat, terrified of the possible outcomes when they found Darling's phone.

In front of him was Chief Sanderson in his four-door pickup. Bringing up the rear was a deputy named Casey Heath in her patrol truck. Oliver raced along the asphalt between them with no worry about what the cracked road might do to his rental. Finding Darling had become his top—no, his only—priority the second he'd found Derrick unconscious. Everything else was on the back burner.

The chief braked for a second. The action bit into Oliver's nerves. They didn't need to stop. They needed to keep going until they found her. After a few beats, Sanderson flipped on his left turn signal and drove off-road. Without hesitation, Oliver and Heath followed.

He made a left onto the new road, and they whizzed down it, away from town. He didn't slow until they had gone past trees on either side. He braked, and Oliver followed suit. They were on a dirt road, dense tree lines surrounding them.

“It's coming from around here,” Sanderson called after he swung out of his truck. His hand rested on the top of his piece, a silent gesture that Oliver didn't miss.

His security experience had already tensed up his body but not enough to hinder the fluidity of his movement. He didn't have his gun out, but he didn't think he needed it, either. His adrenaline was too high. He would use his strength to overcome whatever obstacles the unknown was about to throw at them.

“Spread out,” Sanderson barked. They all fanned out. “Darling?” he called.

Silence.

Less than a minute later, Deputy Heath yelled.

“Over here!”

The phone was on the ground just inside the tree line a few feet from their cars. It was on but unattended. Deputy Heath shooed Oliver's hands away when he went to grab it and instead threw on a pair of latex gloves.

“We don't know who has been touching this,” she said.

“Check the recent calls and texts,” Sanderson ordered. Oliver looked over her shoulder.

“The last call she made was to me yesterday when she found someone had broken in,” he confirmed.

“And the last text...was from a week ago.” Heath quickly browsed the last few pictures. They were of the photographs she'd received at the start of the case.

Heath pulled a plastic Baggie from her pocket and dropped the phone in.

“The phone was placed here,” Chief Sanderson said when the bag had been returned to the patrol truck. Oliver agreed.

“It wasn't thrown from a car when they realized she had it. It wouldn't have landed like that,” he said. The phone had been on the other side of a tree. “It was purposely placed here.”

“But why was it turned back on?” asked Heath.

“For us to find,” the chief said at the same time Oliver said, “So we'd find it.”

Silence didn't have time to fall around them. Oliver bet that the same sick feeling had exploded within the chief.

“We need to find her,” Oliver said, voice hard. “Now.”

“Agreed. Heath you go through there,” the chief said, pointing to the trees behind them. “Just in case.” Heath went back to her truck and pulled her rifle out and did as she was told. “Oliver, follow the road in your car until you are on the outer perimeter of these trees.” He held up his hand before Oliver could complain. “We know we won't find her in the direction we just came from. If she was on foot, there's a chance she came out on the other side. Darling doesn't seem like the kind of woman who would hide. Follow the tree line. If you see anything, call my cell.” He reached in his pocket and produced his card.

“But if she's in there—” Oliver started. He didn't get far.

“Deputy Heath and I know these woods. You come, you'll slow us down.” There was no more discussion as Chief Sanderson began his trek. Oliver saw the reasoning, but he didn't have to like it.

The road extended south for another mile before the trees thinned and open fields replaced them. A quick scan showed no sign of people. Oliver cut the wheel and took his rental off-road. He followed the outside of the woods as the ground sloped uphill and down, but he did so at a slow clip.

An emotion he couldn't quite place clung to his mind and body like a second skin. Fear and longing. Regret and anger. They were mixed in with the unfamiliar feeling, causing a calm before the storm. It was the only way for him to stay focused.

Oliver slammed his hand against the steering wheel.

He had hoped beyond hope that Darling would be with her phone. Being the stubborn woman she was, he'd hoped she had taken down the bad guy and would be waiting for the cops to come. She'd make some wisecrack about Oliver being a day late and a dollar short, and then life would become simple again.

Finding Darling's phone—one that had most likely been purposely placed there—without the private eye at its side brought on a flood of thoughts Oliver didn't want to entertain.

He focused on the trees that he drove past, occasionally scanning the land to the left. He was so intent on the woods he almost missed the spot in the passenger's side mirror. Slamming the brakes, he turned and looked through the SUV's back window. A black car sat a few yards from the woods, its hood angled away from view.

Oliver threw the SUV in Reverse and sped toward the car. He put the SUV in Park and dialed the chief's number. The chief picked up on the first ring.

“I followed the tree line and found a car in the middle of nowhere. Going to check it out. Hold on,” he said, not giving the chief room to respond. Oliver's body was even more tense than before. If caution was a tangible material, it would have been dripping off him by the bucketload. He slipped the phone, still on, in his back pocket and approached the car from the rear.

The car was an old Mazda and seemed to be in good condition minus a dent in the fender and a broken back window. The tires, as far as he could tell, weren't deflated, either. So why was it out there?

Oliver snatched his phone out and yelled into the receiver.

“It's Darling!”

He didn't hear if the chief responded. He had come around the passenger side of the car and had seen her through the windshield.

She was curled up in the driver's seat with a small towel around her feet. Blood was streaked across her face and, he realized with anger and concern so poignant he almost stumbled, she was completely naked.

Oliver pulled on the door but it didn't budge. It was locked. Darling didn't stir. He ran back to the open window and unlocked it before opening the door and unlocking all doors from the passenger side. Then he was back at Darling's side.

She was leaning against the back of the seat but slumped over toward the center console. Her knees were pulled against her chest, her arms slack at either side. Her cheek was pressed against the top of her knee. She was pale.

So pale.

“Darling?” Oliver's voice came out in a whisper. A harsh yet faltering sound. He placed his hand on her blood-stained cheek. He felt the cold all the way in his heart.

A feeling he would never forget.

“Darling, please...”

With his free hand he pressed his fingers to check her pulse. For one horrible moment there was nothing. Then, like a storm in the distance, Oliver felt a soft beat.

He backed up and tore off his jacket. It wasn't thick or long, but it fit around her front easily enough. Oliver put one hand around her shoulders and the other under her knees. There had been a time where an entirely naked Darling in his arms would have made him happy in every way possible, but as he pulled her limp body against his chest, Oliver felt no glee.

“Keep beating,” he whispered, as if her heart could hear him.

“Okay.”

Oliver looked down, wide-eyed, at the woman in his arms. She tilted her head back and gave him the smallest of smiles.

“God, you're beautiful,” he said.

Her smile didn't disappear.

“You found me,” she whispered.

“You bet I did.”

She made a noise that almost sounded like a laugh, but she didn't speak. Oliver cast a quick glance back into the car. There was no blood on the beige seat, he was happy to see.

“Are you hurt?” he asked anyway. He turned, trying not to jostle her too much, and walked toward his rental.

“No,” she answered, voice still low. “I'm cold.”

Oliver held her tighter.

“How long have you been—” He was cut off by the sound of a vehicle approaching. Darling tensed so quickly that Oliver had to look down to make sure she was okay.

“Who?”

“Chief Sanderson,” he answered as the four-door raced toward them. Deputy Heath wasn't far behind.

“Keep me covered,” was all she said.

Oliver angled his body to the side so the chief couldn't see Darling's skin that wasn't covered by the jacket. It was an absurd thing to worry about in the moment, but she sounded so weak. The protective side of him needed to do this for her. It was his fault he hadn't kept her safe in the first place.

The chief kept his truck running and jumped out. He waved Oliver over and flung open the back door.

“It's quicker to drive to the hospital than to wait for an ambulance,” he said. Oliver nodded and realized there wasn't a way to shield Darling's body from the older man.

“Could you step aside for a sec?” Oliver asked, a few feet from him. Sanderson sent him a confused look.

“We don't have time to waste,” he shot back.

“I'm naked,” Darling spoke up. The chief's eyes went skyward at the news. Oliver hurried to get her into the backseat, repositioning the jacket after setting her down. He was thrilled to see she was able to sit up on her own.

“I found her in that car—driver's side—unconscious,” Oliver said. “I need to go with her.”

The chief nodded his approval, and Oliver slid in next to Darling, shutting the door behind him.

Deputy Heath ran up to the truck and was given quick instructions. Sanderson was inside the cab seconds later, already reversing and heading back to the road.

“Any serious injuries?” the chief asked, eyes not moving to the rearview mirror.

“She says no, but there's blood on her face.”

“My foot,” she replied. “I cut it.”

“And your hand.” He caught her wrist and followed the dried blood to her palm. Her skin was still so cold.

“Were you outside all night?” the chief asked.

“Yes,” Oliver answered for her when she nodded. His anger almost boiled over at the realization. In one fluid movement, Oliver took off his shirt.

“Let's put this on you,” he said, already moving her to face him.

“No,” the chief cut in. “Put her against you.”

Oliver raised his eyebrow. “What?”

The chief was all business when he answered. “She'll warm up faster from your body heat. Just putting your shirt over her—although it's a kind gesture—won't work fast enough. Sit her on your lap and let her hug your bare chest. Your warmth will become her warmth.”

Never did Oliver think he would see the day that a cop told him to hug a naked Darling, but it wasn't time to marvel. Darling didn't argue. She must have been a lot colder than he'd thought. She didn't resist as he pulled her onto his lap. She slowly moved her legs around him while he helped guide her arms into his jacket to cover her back.

Oliver made sure to keep eye contact with her as he wrapped his arms around her torso and pulled her down until her bare skin was pressed against his.

Darling's eyes fluttered closed for a moment before she returned the embrace. He waited as she settled her cheek against his shoulder. There was no denying she needed the warmth. Her skin was as cold as ice.

“How long to the hospital?” Oliver asked when Darling relaxed against him. Absently he began to rub her back beneath the jacket.

“Ten minutes. You still with us, Darling?”

Oliver felt her nod against his shoulder.

“What happened to you?” Oliver didn't want to push her, but he also needed to know. Whoever had done this was still out there. “I went to your place and saw Derrick on the ground and you nowhere to be found.”

“Derrick okay?”

“Just a nasty bump on the head is all,” the chief supplied. “He'll be back to it in no time.”

Darling nodded into his shoulder again. As her cheek moved across his bare skin, he had to repress a shiver.

“Someone knocked. I thought it was you,” she said, voice a bit louder than before. “No one was there. I went downstairs and then—” She let out a shuddering breath. Oliver looked down to see tears shining in her eyes. She tilted her head to the side, and Oliver cursed.

“What?” Chief asked.

Oliver let out another string of obscenities before he answered.

“Someone choked her,” he bit out. “There are marks on her neck. I don't know how I missed the bruising before.”

“I didn't see a face,” she said after the chief also voiced his anger. “Flat chest. Male. Then woke up outside.”

Oliver returned his hand to her back, satisfied she hadn't been hit over the head like Derrick.

The cab of the truck became silent as their individual thoughts formed faster than their mouths would let them. Oliver was trying to keep his growing anger under control. To put hands around Darling's neck until she had passed out, and then to strip her and leave her in the cold to die were two acts that painted an unsettling picture of a man with nothing but bad intentions. The idea that he had been watching Darling and waiting for her to leave her apartment was one that crawled under Oliver's skin and simmered. But at the same time, a thin yet strong layer of guilt covered it.