Deceptions. Cynthia Eden
laughed. Hell, he really liked that laugh. And for her to be able to laugh there, after everything that had happened...
“I do owe you, Mac,” Elizabeth said. “So I think I’d like that drink date.” She hesitated. “I just, I can’t offer more than that. You need to know that going in.”
“Understood.” He knew how to be a gentleman, though he was sure plenty of people would disagree. The rough and ready McGuire brothers had gotten a pretty strong reputation over the years, and gossip did like to fly.
He didn’t particularly care what the gossips thought. But Mac did care about what Elizabeth thought.
She hurried to join Cathy once more. Mac turned toward his car. He’d taken just a few steps when he stopped and glanced back at the now well-lit library.
What if the guy comes back?
* * *
MAC WAS A temptation she didn’t need. Elizabeth slammed her car door and hurried up the sidewalk to her house. She should be steering clear of the guy and everything that he represented. Instead, she’d agreed to drinks.
And she wanted more.
There was something between them—lust. Desire. She got that. She tried to play it cool around him, but a very large part of her wanted to jump the man on sight.
Her heels clicked over her sidewalk as she hurried home. She glanced around, a bit nervous, but her neighborhood was safe. There were plenty of dogs close by. Plenty of helpful, wonderfully nosy folks like her neighbor Judy Lee, who kept a watch on things.
Her key slid into the lock. She should cancel that drink date with Mac. Though, technically, they hadn’t planned a date. They’d just said they would have drinks. Sometime. Somewhere. And she would not jump him.
She most definitely would not let her wild side out with Mac, even though he did tempt her. He made her want things...excitement, passion...things that could be dangerous.
As dangerous as he is.
She went into her house. Flipped on the light. And—
Her phone rang.
Fumbling, Elizabeth pulled out the phone and frowned at the screen. She didn’t recognize the number that appeared there. A number, no name.
Who could be calling her at this hour? She rarely ever gave out her own number. She hadn’t even given it to Mac. But she had given it to the police. Maybe they’d caught the guy already! She kicked the door shut with her foot, flipped the lock and answered, “This is Elizabeth—”
“Beth.”
Ice poured through her veins.
“I know what he’s after, Beth. I can help you.”
“Who is this?” She put her back to the door, and her tight grip probably came close to splintering her phone.
“We both found you, but we can stop him.”
“Who is this?” Elizabeth demanded again as fear pulsed through her. First the attack, now this guy... Why is this happening?
“Meet me now. Before it’s too late.”
“Too late for what?” Elizabeth turned and peered through her blinds. Had a car just glided to a stop in front of Ms. Lee’s? It was so dark under that big tree, it was hard to tell for certain, but a car could be there. “I think you’ve got the wrong woman.”
“I was there, in Colorado, Beth.” His voice sounded vaguely familiar. “I want to help you.”
The guy at the library had wanted to hurt her. “What you need to do is leave me alone,” she said, injecting a note of steel into her voice. “Stay away from me.”
“You’re in danger!”
“Are you threatening me?” She was pretty sure that she’d just seen a shadow move out there beneath the tree. Her knees were knocking together.
“I’m trying to help you!”
Right. Was she supposed to foolishly believe that? The guy wouldn’t even tell her who he was!
“Look, I couldn’t let the past go. I was asking questions, talking too much—I showed my hand too soon.”
Okay, now she was just lost.
“Because of that, we’re both in danger.”
She still had on Mac’s jacket, but a chill skated down her spine.
“I know I’m being hunted, and so are you. Meet me,” he said, his voice still oddly familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. She usually had a knack for remembering voices. “Now. I’m close to a bar on Avers Street. A place called Rustic. Meet me in the alley outside.”
Sure. Because she had a death wish. She’d just skip right into a dark alley with a stranger who called her the same night that she’d nearly been attacked.
“I can help you stop him.” His voice deepened. “I know what happened before, okay? I was there. I reported on it.”
Reported—with that one word, his voice clicked, and she had a flash in her mind of a man—tall, a little thin, with sandy-blond hair and blue eyes that she’d actually thought held compassion.
But that had been a lifetime ago. Elizabeth had been a different person back then.
“You have me confused with someone else,” she said.
“Beth, no, don’t hang up.” His breath heaved out in a sigh that filled the phone. “You came to Texas because of what happened, didn’t you? Because this was his home? Part of you has to be looking for closure. I want that closure, too! I figured it out—everything. Come see me and we can stop— Ah!”
His words ended on a sharp cry. A cry of pain?
“Hello?” Elizabeth said. “Are you okay?”
Click. Silence. The call had ended.
“Hello?” She hit the call-back button but the line just rang and rang. After a few moments voice mail picked up.
This is Steve Yeldon. If you’ve got a story for me, leave a message. Otherwise...why are you calling me?
Steve Yeldon. That name was straight from her past. Elizabeth lowered the phone and stared at the screen. She remembered that reporter. He’d been young, only a few years older than she was. He hadn’t attacked her, not the way so many others had. He’d kept asking for her side of the story.
She hadn’t wanted to talk.
But that had been years ago.
Her finger slipped over her phone’s screen one more time. His last cry had sent goose bumps rising over her arms and had dread lodging in her heart. She tried calling back once more, needing to actually talk to him again and have Steve tell her that he’d just been disconnected, that everything was fine—
Someone answered the phone. She could hear the rush of breath.
“Hello?” Elizabeth said. “Is this Steve Yeldon?”
The rush of breath came over the line again.
“Steve, look, I don’t want—”
“Steve can’t talk right now.”
The low, raspy voice sent more shivers over her. “Who is this?”
“I’ll see you soon, Elizabeth.”
A distinct click filled her ears as fear knotted her stomach.
Her first instinct was to call the cops, to get to that alley but—
The cops didn’t believe me before. Not back when she’d first met Steve Yeldon. Her past with the cops was twisted and dark. She didn’t turn to them these days. Mostly because she didn’t trust them