Freezing Point. Elizabeth Goddard
down in the house, hoping to gain a better look outside without her reflection. For a few seconds, she searched the blackness, but could see nothing except a few lights in the distance—probably a fishing boat or two. She wondered if Tannin could be out there somewhere, watching her. She couldn’t shake off the sense that someone was, in fact, observing her.
Despite everything she’d been through, the idea still seemed a little paranoid. After all, she’d driven almost twenty hours, putting over a thousand miles distance between her and Tannin. He couldn’t know where in the country she was.
The strangeness of today fresh on her mind, she shoved the hair from her face, wondering if she might have something more than Will Tannin to worry about.
“Get the interview and you’ve got a job,” Danny had said.
Get in and get out, leave the rest of it buried.
She began the chore of tugging the heavy window treatments over the vast expanse of glass until it was completely covered.
A sound from somewhere in the house startled her. Casey froze.
Holding her breath, she listened and heard the noise again. She spotted a large ballerina figurine on the end table. She could use it as a weapon if needed. She lifted it.
It was heavy enough.
It would do. Except … Was it a Lladro?
Casey cringed for half a second and looked around her for something less expensive, but there wasn’t anything except pricey-looking décor and figurines accenting the room. She hadn’t even noticed until now.
Aunt Leann would understand, since Casey’s life could be at stake.
Jesse allowed the waves to wash up against his feet and ankles, soaking his running shoes, as he held the golden retriever’s leash. He stared through his night-vision binoculars at John Helms’s house, not seeing much now that Casey had closed all the curtains. Finally, he jammed them into the pack he wore around his waist and continued his jog, Simon at his side.
She’d looked out into the darkness, a strange expression on her face, before tugging the curtains to the center of the window from one side and then moving to the far side to start the process over again. He’d watched her the entire time. Her trim figure didn’t seem equal to the task, but she managed. There was something in the way she acted when she closed the curtains, like she expected someone was watching her—and little did she know that he was.
Beautiful blond strands hung around her face, her expression one of both defiance and fear—not much change from when he’d come across her on the loading dock and rescued her. Though she probably didn’t think of it like that.
Why was John Helms’s niece staying in his home while he was gone? Not so unusual—but then why had she appeared to slink onto the loading dock in need of an interview with him? At the time he had been inclined to believe her explanation, wanted to believe it, if he were honest. Anything more would be trouble. Then he’d found out about her background.
An investigative reporter.
She was trouble or she was going to get into trouble. Jesse hadn’t figured out which, but he now had the added assignment to thwart in either case.
Beautiful … but dangerous. Those same words had come to mind when he thought about dry ice. The comparison elicited a small grin.
He drew in rhythmic breaths as he jogged up the beach away from the house, considering what tomorrow would bring. Jesse was close to being someone Miguel would finally trust and accept into the inner circle of those operating the cash-smuggling ring.
With Casey Wilkes’s appearance on the scene, Jesse was now in the position of also having to infiltrate her life without her knowing his motives—but to protect her, to protect the covert assignment.
Another person he’d have to lie to. Another person whose trust he would need to win, and who would end up hating him in the end.
Lungs burning, Jesse dropped to his knees, catching his breath. He wanted this to be over and done with. He wanted out. But now things were more complicated.
Simon whined and licked Jesse’s face. Jesse pulled away, wanting to cry out to God. He needed God’s help, but it had been so long since he felt good enough to be on speaking terms with the Almighty.
Jesse squeezed sand in his fists, his instincts on fire. He wasn’t about to let this attractive woman reporter ruin this assignment.
A scream ripped through the night.
Casey fought against the arms that wrapped around her, screaming and kicking.
In the hallway outside the guest bedroom she slammed the figurine at the man’s head, but missed.
He squeezed her wrist, sending pain up her arm. She cried out and the figurine flew through the air then slid across the floor of the bedroom.
Her only weapon gone.
The wall! She tried to reach the wall with her feet. Shove her back into the man and loosen his grip.
If she could just gain traction. There.
Her feet against the wall, she pressed hard, slamming him into the corner of the hallway. He cursed.
She pressed harder, but his grip around her only tightened. She couldn’t breathe. He shifted and dragged her down the hall.
His grip loosened but only slightly. She drew in a breath. “What are you doing? Where are you taking me? Let me go.”
Now she wished she’d made friends with the neighbor.
Casey screamed again, louder this time, if possible.
Then, to her surprise, he threw her on the floor. She slammed against the tile, hitting her head.
The taste of blood filled her mouth. Unsure why he’d dropped her, but not caring, Casey scrambled to her feet. Before she took off running, she glanced behind her.
The man wore a tailored black suit, she now noticed. He reached into his suit jacket and pulled something out.
Casey gasped.
A gun. He had a gun.
Casey’s knees trembled. “What are you going to do?”
Like a bull intent on goring his target, Jesse slammed into the man from the side. Though he’d held Casey at gunpoint, the guy hadn’t fingered the trigger guard yet. Jesse had to act fast.
The nine-millimeter slid across the floor.
The man grunted from the blow. Jesse landed on top of him as they hit the tile floor. The attacker moaned, but Jesse didn’t care. He threw a punch in his face for good measure.
Blood gushed from the man’s nose, and he pressed his hands to it. “You broke my nose,” he said, his nasal-sounding tone filled with outrage.
Jesse held his fist in the air and paused. “I’m going to break more than that. Who are you and what are you doing here?”
Still cupping a hand over his nose, the man dropped to his knees. Something slid from his pocket.
“The name is Harrison Spear. I’m a friend of the Helmses and I came to check on the house. I found her inside, stealing from them. I pointed the gun at her so she would stay there while I called the police. The bigger question is who are you? And who is she?”
Fire in her eyes, Casey stepped forward. “I was doing no such thing.” She fairly spat at the man.
“Come on, you had that figurine. It’s worth a lot of money.”
Jesse relaxed, but only slightly. “Look, I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”
He looked to Casey, knowing he’d eventually need to explain why he’d been here to save the day.
“My name is Casey Wilkes and I’m Leann