The rain was just starting to fall when the phone rang, but Kris never heard it. Dylan had routed any overnight calls to his phone. Kris could call out, but all incoming calls forwarded to him. He made the decision almost too late. They had been so focused on setting up a decoy and getting the other agents in place that the possibility of Damien calling Kris had slipped through the cracks. If Kris answered and the woman in Kris’s bed didn’t, it would be a dead giveaway that they were on to him. The easiest solution was to reroute the calls.
Dylan listened as the phone rang repeatedly, muffled in the night air by a pillow and by the falling rain. He had also disabled Kris’s message center, so the creep couldn’t leave a message. Kris would either be pissed at him invading her privacy, or she would thank him for the respite. He hoped she thanked him, but he would do the same thing again regardless.
~~~~~
Damn, they were smarter than they looked, Damien thought as he clicked off the phone. “No matter,” he said aloud, “I know that woman is an imposter.” He was so sure, that he didn’t waste his time watching her sleep. Instead, he schemed how he would find out where his Beauty had been taken.
Scouting her work place was no problem, as his hotel was only minutes from the site. She could be staying in the same place as me, he thought giddily, maybe even right next door. He blood started to boil at the delicious symmetry of that potential scenario, but he reigned himself in before things got out of hand. Circling around to the backside of her office building, he noted the delivery entrance. “Perfect place to enter and leave unseen by someone watching the front door. Unless that someone is me.” He was getting excited again, at the prospect of the hunt. Looking around for an unobtrusive hideout in close proximity, he spotted the dumpster at the opposite end of the parking lot. “It’s almost too easy,” he said as he drove slowly back to his hotel.
~~~~~
Neither Jerry nor Kris noticed the deep blue BMW parked behind the dumpster the next morning. It was raining cats and dogs by the time they reached the office. Getting from the car to the door as fast as possible was top priority. Kris was more rested than she had been in a long time, thanks to Dylan’s cunning. He had called this morning to let her know what he had done, and she was so grateful that she nearly cried. To know that she slept through his call added a ray of sunshine to the soggy morning.
Kris’s car was already in the parking lot; Agent Stark had left for her hotel. Last night had been a complete bust, including the untraceable phone call.
Kris was already looking forward to lunch with Nick. Still a little shaky from the kiss last night, she couldn’t wait to see him again.
~~~~~
Nick spent most of the morning, and previous night, truth be told, reliving the kiss. Things had been explosive between them romantically in college, but nothing came near to what he felt last night. He would’ve remembered something like that.
The kiss had him seriously reconsidering his willingness to allow Kris time to get used to him being back in her life. Why the hell should they wait any longer, they’d already wasted ten long years. Nick wanted to spend his life with that woman, and she damn well better agree to it.
“Yeah, why don’t I put it to her like that, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.” He shook his head. Lack of sleep, paired with the constant worry for Kris’s safety was taking its toll. “If I could get my hands on that bastard for two seconds, he’d never hurt another woman again,” he muttered.
Sheets of rain pelted against the tin roof of his cottage as he dressed for lunch with Kris. He had so hoped that Damien would make a move last night and this whole thing could be over already. Suppressing his anger at the situation, he strode towards the kitchen door leading to the garage, obstinately leaving his umbrella in the stand. As he pressed the garage door opener at the top of the stairs, he chided himself. “Get a grip, man,” he said as he raced down the garage steps to his car, “Kris doesn’t need to see you like this.”
Pressing the button in his pocket to unlock the car, he grabbed the door handle just as the first blow from the pipe struck his head. It only took one, he was out.
“Stupid fool,” Damien chuckled, “All that security and you open the door so anyone can slide right in.”
A few minutes later, Damien drove Nick’s car out of his garage, keeping his face averted from the cameras he had already spotted and throwing up a hand at the sentry posted at the end of the street. The rain hat covered his hair and part of his face. Nick’s limp body lay crumpled in the trunk.
Kris waited for Nick for half an hour before texting him. Where are you? It wasn’t like him to be late; they had just confirmed their lunch date this morning. She could tell that he was as anxious as she to get together. So where was he? The uneasiness left a knot in her stomach.
Jerry was nearly finished with her lunch on the opposite side of the restaurant when Kris received Nick’s text. Something came up unexpectedly. Business. I’ll be out of town for several days. I’ll call you as soon as I can.
Kris sat in the crowded room, stunned. What business could have come up so quickly that he couldn’t call her to cancel their lunch? He didn’t even apologize for making her wait, alone at a table, for him to show up. More than a little irritated, she ordered a sandwich to go and went over to wait with Jerry.
The rain was still pouring as Kris and Jerry slipped out the delivery door of Kris’s office after everyone else had left. The midnight BMW parked across the street idly waited for them to leave the parking lot. Damien followed them at a discreet distance, the big black SUV was hard to miss, but he had an idea of where they were headed as soon as they turned left at the end of the suspension bridge spanning the Cooper River. He kept them in sight all the way to the large Victorian near Battery Park, deftly maneuvering one-way streets and tenacious tourists out for a wet stroll.
“It’s like they’re serving her up on a silver platter,” he muttered as he spotted one lone watchman in a standard-issue unmarked car. “Where’s the challenge?” He circled the block a few times, double checking the guard position, and then slid into a parking spot a block away from the house. Feeling particularly bold, he decided to circle the house on foot to spot the best way inside.
The driveway was gated with a tall, wrought iron structure that extended across the front of the property. The fence blended with the antique style of the home and the surroundings, adding a charming curb appeal to the old Victorian. The fence appeared to encircle the property, but on closer inspection, ended halfway long the side borders of the property. Ornamental oak trees picked up where the fence left off, providing easy access to the small courtyard at the back of the home. The courtyard led to a screened-in porch that ran the length of the back of the house. He could see several sets of French doors leading inside the home from different sections of the porch. Easy in, easy out, he thought as he completed his covert inspection.
Kris, Jerry and Cassie enjoyed a relaxing evening watching silly sitcoms and HGTV. Kris still had not heard from Nick and was trying to be philosophical about his quick departure. The three had analyzed his behavior over a dinner of homemade pizza and salad, and had finally concluded that all men carried the unthinking prick gene, no matter how devoted they seemed.
After much discussion of whether or not to worry her with the details, Kris and Cassie Skyped Roni, introduced her to Jerry and brought her up to speed on Damien and on Nick. Sharing the Damien situation would burden Roni, but leaving her out would make her feel worse.
After begging Kris to come stay with her in Atlanta and then realizing why that wasn’t a solution, Roni declared that she was coming for
the weekend to lend moral support and to ‘help kick the crap out of the pervert.’ In typical Roni fashion, her thoughts on Nick were even more succinct.
“You both screwed up before, now it’s up to you not to let him do it again. Cassie and I will keep you in line,” she added sweetly. “When he does call, and he will, simply let him know, in no uncertain terms, that you will not tolerate disrespectful and selfish behavior. Breaking a date due to unforeseen circumstances is understandable, but not calling you until the date was half over is not. Men are like meatloaf; you have to mold them before they taste just right.”
“I don’t know,” Jerry chimed in, “That kiss last night looked pretty tasty to me. Kris certainly wasn’t complaining.” Kris blushed and everyone laughed.
“Hmmm, nothing wrong with a little make-your-toes-curl flavor,” Roni continued. “But you still can’t let him get away with the lunch thing. It sets a precedent.”
“Sounds like that kiss set a precedent of its own.” Cassie giggled. “I missed the main event, but Kris had a sparkly-dazed look afterward that I’ve never seen before.”
“Okay, that’s enough, no more dissecting one simple good night kiss. I will say that this Nicholas Evans has moves that the younger version only dreamed of. Now let it go.” Kris looked directly at Roni; she was the one who could keep this line of conversation going for another hour.
“Sure, for now.” Roni grinned. “But I want to leave you with one thought. If his kisses have moves, just imagine what the rest of him has learned in ten years.” She waggled her eyebrows and they all burst into laughter again.
“Good night, Roni. We’ll see you this weekend.” Kris clicked off before Roni could get in another word. Turning to Cassie and Jerry, she continued. “You should both be ashamed of yourselves for getting her started, especially you Cassie, you know how she is. I’ll never hear the end of it now.” She smiled and shook her head. “I’m going to bed, sleep well you two.”
“I’m right behind you, after I check the locks.” Jerry’s tone turned more serious as she reminded Kris to call out if she needed anything.
“I think I’ll read awhile, but I’m going up too. Good night all.” Cassie followed Kris up the stairs.
Dylan stretched his long legs in front of him as he sat on Nick’s deck, patiently watching the back of Kris’s house for any movement. Visibility was a bitch in the rain, but his night-vision goggles helped. He still couldn’t get over Nick’s leaving without a word. Luckily, Nick had given Dylan a key to his house yesterday, or the stake out would have had to be refigured.
After calling Nick’s cell twice with no success, Dylan concluded that whatever it was that took him away must be extremely important. He knew the look of a man head over heels about a woman, and Nick had that look. There’s no way he would leave Kris right now unless he had no choice.
Lifting the goggles once again, Dylan peered at the interior of Kris’s porch, the deck on the back and side of the house and the landscape between the porch and the beach. Except for the pouring rain water, the only activity was the gentle sway of the surrounding sea grass.
Damien waited for all of the lights to go off in the house before he began his countdown. He was quite comfortable, perched between the garage and the tree line on the back of the stately Victorian. The rain cascaded around him, but he barely noticed. His umbrella kept him reasonably dry, but his excitement for the upcoming festivities warmed his black soul.
He watched as the downstairs lights went off and then three upstairs lights came on. The lights told him the location of the bedrooms, which would save precious time when he made his move. The light at the end of the house stayed on long past the others, someone was a night owl. “Is that you, my Beauty?” he whispered, “Are you waiting for me?”
He smiled as he recalled the events of the day. Taking the interloper had been a stroke of genius. Not only did he have the pleasure of punishing the man for having his hands on his Beauty, but the bastard’s condition would ensure that Beauty came along quietly tonight. He’d left him tied to a chair in an abandoned carpenter’s shed next to the shipyard. Even if the man came to, there was no escape. Damien was confident in his method of restraint.
The man had certainly tried to put up a fight, once he regained consciousness the first time. Fortunately, Damien had him secured before that happened. If the chair had been made of wood, rather than metal, Damien was sure the bastard would have broken it to bits. Chuckling, he remembered the sight of the powerful man thrashing about the concrete floor, trying to remove the overlapping strips of duct tape. He had even knocked himself unconscious once in the process. It was almost a pity to put him to sleep, but it was necessary in order to get just the right angle on the photograph he planned to show Beauty. Oh well, he sighed, surely he’ll be awake for our little get-together.
About an hour later, the house was finally sheathed in darkness. Damien checked his watch and waited. Exactly ninety minutes passed before he stepped purposefully towards the door.
Gaining access to the house was a piece of cake; the alarm control panel opened without issue; a few snips later the system was disabled. Door locks had never challenged him, part of his gift, he thought. His eyes were already accustomed to the darkness and he began to move stealthily around the furniture that was partially illuminated by the glow of a streetlamp. He paused at the base of the grand staircase to embrace the moment. What a perfect setting for his Southern Beauty; a grand old mansion. Well pleased with the way things were turning out, Damien ascended the stairs with a stature and grace that Rhett Butler would admire.
All of the bedroom doors were closed, which worked to his advantage. No need to disturb anyone but Beauty, he thought. Neither of the other two women appealed to him at the moment, but he could certainly appreciate the attributes of both.
He eased open the first door leading to a room on the backside of the house. The room was in total darkness, but for the muted glow of a bedside clock. Creeping quietly to the bed, he turned the clock to illuminate the sleeping woman.
A profusion of dark curls flowed over the pillow beside her beautiful face. The darkness took away the color, but Damien recognized her profile. She always slept with her hair to the side. Damien knew in an instant that he had found his Beauty. As if it were meant to be, he thought with a smile as he unsheathed his favorite knife.
The edge of the icy blade pressed against the thin skin of her neck. Kris sensed the evil in the room before she was completely conscious and she knew this was not a dream. Careful not to change her breathing or move in any way, she kept her eyes closed even as her mind raced to find a way to reach the SIG.
The pressure of the blade against her skin increased. One wisp of movement would cause the steel to pierce the thin layer of her neck and draw blood.
“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.” A familiar voice whispered softly in her ear. Damien could smell the panic emanating from his Beauty, it was his favorite scent. He waited while she opened her eyes, meeting her frightened gaze with one filled with love. Keeping pressure on the knife, he reached over and flipped on the bedside lamp.
Kris looked into flat, black eyes that bore into hers with a possessive fervor that shook her to her soul. She felt a trickle of warm liquid slide down one side of her neck. She still didn’t move; she didn’t dare.
Damien gazed deeply into her eyes for several minutes, anticipating the evening that lay ahead for them. Leaning down, he pressed a light kiss against her lips. As he rose, he noticed the red line snaking its way onto the pillow. He was immediately apologetic. “I’m so sorry, Beauty. I’m afraid that I marred your lovely skin in my excitement. It’s much too soon for that.” He smiled and relieved the pressure of the
blade slightly. “I’ll move the knife if you promise not to scream.” Kris continued to hold his gaze, and then she blinked her eyes slowly, hoping he took it as a ‘yes’.
Damien continued to smile lovingly into her eyes, or so he believed. “Before I do, please know that, if you make a sound, your friend Nicholas Evans will pay for it.” He held up his phone so that Kris could see the picture of Nick, tied to a chair with blood matting his hair. The image was an exact duplicate of the one in her vision; but she couldn’t tell if he was dead or alive. Damien enjoyed watching the stricken look of panic deepen in her eyes as she looked at his handiwork. “Mr. Evans is a guest of mine. If you’re good, we will go and join him. If not, I will be forced to end our date immediately and he will be dead within the hour. The choice is yours, my dear.”
Kris knew she had no choice. He had Nick.
Damien saw resignation replace most of the panic in her eyes and was both happy and sorry; he so loved the fear factor of his dates. No matter, he thought, plenty of time to recapture the moment later. He knew she would do whatever he asked, just to save the interloping bastard. Still, he was slow to move the knife from her neck, and then trailed it down her chest as he stood above her.
“Get up slowly and get dressed,” he ordered in a voice barely above a whisper. “I hope I don’t have to remind you to be quiet. It would be a pity for someone else to try and ruin our date.”
Kris took a deep breath as soon as he moved the knife, but she didn’t dare make a move. The warm trickle from the cut on her neck had almost stopped; at least she didn’t feel it anymore. She sat up slowly, positioning her back against the pillow covering her gun.
“Would you hand me my clothes?” She asked while indicating the chair in the corner of the room. A stack of folded clothing rested on top. He walked backwards to the chair, picked up the bundle and placed them next to her on the bed, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Thank you,” Kris said, hoping to gain good will.
“You’re welcome.” He replied quietly. He watched without a word as Kris pulled her jeans over the boy shorts she wore to bed. How quaint, he thought, modesty. That will pass soon enough.