“Well, shit!” What he really, really wanted to say was the F-word, but Loni had a strict rule against that because of the kids, so Clint never allowed himself to transgress, not even while alone, afraid that habit might lead him to slip up when little pitchers with big ears were present. He tried the ignition switch again, got the same result, and settled for yelling, “Son of a frigging bitch!”
He jerked his cell phone from his belt, started to dial Parker, and saw only one bar in his signal window. He tried to call out and couldn’t. “Damn it!”
He was in a dead zone. Mountainous sections of Oregon were famous for expanses of highway where no signal came through. He glanced up to determine precisely where he was. Double damn. He was at the bottom of Haymaker Hill. Normally when he was on this section of road and lost his signal while talking with someone, he just called back when he got out of the dead zone. Not possible this time. In order to call Parker and let him know that no one was tailing Rainie, he would have to hoof it nearly three miles to the summit.
Clint piled out of the pickup and broke into a run up the incline, which would grow much steeper as he neared the top. Ranch work kept him in peak physical condition, and he didn’t mind jogging up a hill. He just wished he were wearing some decent shoes. Riding boots had never been intended for long-distance running. Stupid truck. Parker was counting on him to look out for Rainie this afternoon, and now he’d let him down.
As Rainie made her way up and down the aisles of the supermarket, she was still focused on Parker and the kinky delights of frosting. Just imagining them made her feel a little weak at the knees. Unfortunately, it also distracted her, and she had to double back in the aisles several times because she’d overlooked something on her list.
She was glancing at her wristwatch by the time she opened the trunk of the Mazda to stash her groceries. It was only a little after one o’clock, but even so, time was running short. Thank goodness she’d thought to get premade icing. All she’d have to do was add dabs of food coloring to create the colors she needed. If she put the wine on the stove to simmer first, it could mull while she mixed the cookie dough and did other stuff. Then maybe she could carve out an extra few minutes for a nice, hot bath in scented water before she put on her costume. If Parker wanted to decorate her like a Halloween cookie and slowly devour her, she wanted all parts of her to be pristine. And that wasn’t to mention the cowboy version of bobbing for apples. What, exactly, had he meant by that?
Rainie was still considering the possibilities as she unlocked the driver door and slipped behind the steering wheel. She dumped her purse on the seat beside her. Humming the theme song of Legends of the Fall, she drew the door closed, fastened her seat belt, shoved the key in the ignition, and sparked the engine to life. As she backed from the parking space and shifted into drive, she smiled dreamily. If someone had told her a year ago that she would meet a cowboy, fall wildly in love, and feel this happy, she never would have believed it. It just went to prove that miracles could happen, heroes actually did exist, and fairy-tale endings weren’t only for storybooks.
Just as the car began to roll forward, something flat and cold angled across Rainie’s larynx, the pressure so abrupt and forceful that it snapped her head back against the rest. For a moment, her brain went into a free fall of confusion, and her only thought was, What?
“You unfaithful, spoiled, stupid little bitch.”
The voice near Rainie’s ear was one straight out of her nightmares. Peter. Oh, God, he was right there in the backseat of her car. Terrifying thoughts ping-ponged inside her brain. A knife. He had the flat side of the blade pressed against her jugular. With only a turn of his wrist, he could kill her. She could imagine it all too clearly. The warmth of her blood streaming down her neck to pool in the cleavage of her breasts. The wet gurgle of crimson as she fought to breathe. She remembered telling Parker that she could defend herself even if Peter came at her with a weapon. Not. Somehow she’d never envisioned this scenario, with her hands on the steering wheel, the car rolling forward, and the knife already in position at her throat.
She’d locked the car. How had he gotten in? And why, oh, why hadn’t she checked the back floorboard before getting in herself? Just because she knew that Clint was somewhere in the parking lot and watching her vehicle was no reason for her to be careless. Stupid, so stupid. Any idiot knew to look through the back windows. It was a simple safety rule that all women with half a brain followed nowadays. Where had her head been? Parker. She’d been daydreaming about Parker.
Oh, God, oh, God. Where was Clint? Had Peter harmed him? The thought no sooner entered her mind than she discarded it. Like Parker, Clint was in superb physical condition and could handle himself in a scuffle. Besides, it wasn’t Peter’s style to face off with a man who could fight back. Clint was fine. He had to be fine. Peter had probably just delayed him somehow.
Rainie could almost hear Parker’s voice whispering in her mind. Be smarter than he is. Use your head. He may be bigger and stronger, but you’ve got the element of surprise on your side. Only nothing he’d taught her covered a situation like this. A random act of violence. This was so classically Peter. He was probably already tensing to slit her throat, his plan being to leave her slumped over the steering wheel. He would take her purse to make it look like a robbery.
Rainie forced her mind back to what she needed to be thinking about, not Peter’s plans, but how she might come up with one of her own. How could she catch Peter by surprise and take control of the situation? Butting him in the face with the back of her skull wasn’t possible. The seat’s headrest was in her way. She thought about slamming down hard on the brakes, but the car wasn’t moving fast enough to throw him violently forward. She also worried about the backlash of reverse momentum. With a lethal weapon at her throat, she’d have to be nuts to bring the car to an abrupt stop. Not a smart move. Same went for tromping on the gas and driving into a light post.
Bracing herself, she forced her gaze to the rearview mirror. Shock spilled through her like ice water. Peter wasn’t wearing a stocking cap, as she’d once imagined he might. Instead he had no hair, absolutely none. His head was as bald as an onion. His thick, golden eyebrows had vanished. Even his eyelashes were gone.
He smiled at her—the same thousand-watt, charming smile that had fooled so many people into believing any lie he told them. “DNA precaution. I watch forensic shows a lot, and the percentage of murderers who are caught because they leave a trace of DNA at the scene is incredibly high. I don’t plan to make the same mistake.”
Rainie gaped at his reflection, totally forgetting to steer.
“Watch out, you stupid bitch! Pay attention to where you’re going!”
She jerked her gaze back to the windshield and cranked the wheel sharply left to avoid a collision with the rear bumper of a Cadillac.
With his free hand, Peter grabbed her hair. His fingers seemed to stick in the strands. The cruel clench of his fist brought tears to her eyes. Gloves. He was wearing latex gloves. In the rearview mirror, she glimpsed the maniacal leer that had haunted her dreams for so many months. She was right back where she’d started, she thought dizzily, seeing his reflection, only now he had no interest in playing sadistic sex games. Oh, no. He’d come here to kill her. She saw it in his eyes.
So why didn’t he just slit her throat and get it over with? The thought made her whole body quiver, and for a horrible moment, she almost lost control of her bladder. She didn’t want to die. She wanted none of this to be real so she could go back to Parker. Her divorce was final, damn it. She was free. They were taking marriage preparation classes and planning a future together. She yearned to have his babies, see them grow up, and then sit on the porch swing with him someday as an old woman. It couldn’t end like this. It simply couldn’t.
Only it was. If wishing Peter away had worked, she would have been rid of him a long time ago. Terror. That was Peter’s specialty, evoking terror. Calm, stay calm. She had to think. With the knif
e blade at her throat, staying calm was a tall order. Parker. Rainie envisioned his dark face, so different in every way from that of the man behind her. She remembered the kisses they’d shared a short while ago. Now she might never get to experience a Halloween with him. No getting tipsy on mulled wine. No opening the door to pass out candy to cute little kids in goblin costumes. No ending the evening in each other’s arms and finding out what cowboy apple bobbing was all about.
A wave of intense sadness washed through Rainie. And then anger took its place. She hated Peter Danning. No, hate was too mild a word. She despised him. He might kill her. Correction, he would kill her if he had his way. But she’d be damned if she would go out sniveling and begging for her life. He had reduced her to that once. Never again. If she had to die, she would go out as Rainie Hall, Marcus Hall’s gutsy daughter and the love of Parker Harrigan’s life. This vile, twisted, vicious excuse for a man could destroy her physically, but she would never again allow him to obliterate her sense of self.
Rainie drove the Mazda to the end of the parking corridor and pressed on the brake. Peter jerked hard on her hair. “Did I tell you to stop? Willful as always, I see.”
Rainie stiffened against the pain. “Which direction should I go?” She met his glittering gaze in the mirror. “Going straight is out, unless you want to collide with those parked cars.”
He pulled harder on her hair and pressed the flat of the blade more firmly against her larynx.
“Go ahead,” Rainie pushed out, her voice twanging from the pressure. She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how frightened she was. “Get it over with. Kill me, Peter. I’d rather die than breathe the same air you are.”
“Shut up and drive.”
“Where to? I’m not a mind reader.”
“That pesthole you live in.” He laughed softly. “I gave you everything, a palatial home, beautiful clothing, and expensive jewelry. You had it all, and you threw it away for a low-rent shack and an uneducated farmer.”
Rainie thought of Parker—the gentle brush of his knuckles over her cheek, the love in his eyes every time he looked at her. To think that she might never see him again made her heart hurt.
“What has he given you?” Peter demanded. “Name me one damned thing. Look at this junk heap you’re driving. Look at your clothes. A homeless person dresses better than you do.”
Rainie remained silent, refusing to engage in a stupid debate about the finest man she’d ever known. It would be a waste of breath. A slimeball like Peter was incapable of appreciating all the many gifts she’d received from Parker. Restoring her pride and self-confidence. Loving her with no strings attached. Filling her life with laughter and joy and contentment and peace. As the thoughts ran through Rainie’s mind, she felt a sob welling in her throat, because she should have said all those things to Parker and couldn’t remember if she had.
“Drive,” Peter ordered. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk about the folly of your choices when we reach your house.”
Rainie hung a right to take the bypass. The traffic flowed faster on the motorway. She concentrated for a moment on breathing—slow and deep. When her head cleared a little, she was better able to focus. Take control of the situation, Parker had told her at least a thousand times. Only how? With the seat between her and Peter, all the self-defense moves that Parker had taught her were useless. Maybe, if she could accelerate to a high enough speed on the bypass, there would come a moment when Peter drew the knife from her throat. All she needed was a millisecond. If the opportunity came, she’d slam on the brakes and put his sorry ass through the windshield. He wore no safety belt, and the old Mazda had no air bags. As a plan of action, it wasn’t much, but for the moment, it was all she had.
As she merged with the bypass traffic and gained speed, Rainie decided to do her best to piss him off, her hope being that he would react true to form by ranting and waving his hands. If he got mad and lowered the knife for just an instant, she might have a fighting chance.
“You know, it’s funny,” she said with a forced laugh. “No, actually, it’s hysterical. You really believe that the life you gave me was first-rate.”
“It was better than what you’ve got now, that’s for damned sure.”
“Wrong!” Rainie wasn’t worried about his slitting her throat now. They were doing fifty-five, and Peter would never put his own safety at risk. “I’m with a real man. Unlike you, he knows how to love a woman, and he never has any trouble getting it up.”
He leaned forward to breathe heavily in her ear without actually touching her. “I’m stiff as a rod right now.”
“Only because you think I’m afraid. Inflicting fear and pain are the only things that turn you on. Well, news flash, Peter: I’m not scared of you anymore.”
His only response was to laugh. “Just drive, Lorraina. We’ll see how brave you are when we’re alone in that hovel you call a home.”
Anxious to join Rainie at her place for an evening of Halloween festivities, Parker had decided to leave early. He was smiling as he closed up the office. Helping her to make cookies would be fun, especially if he could talk her into wearing the black caftan with nothing on underneath. Oh, yeah. Rainie and mulled wine. What a combination. He needed to stop by the house for a quick shower and to grab his camera. Their first Halloween together. Rainie would get a kick out of taking pictures of the little kids who came to the door.
Parker had just left the arena when his cell phone started playing a rumba, Clint’s special ring tone. He jerked the apparatus from his belt and snapped it open. “Is Rainie all right?”
“I don’t know.” Clint sounded out of breath. “My damn truck broke down at the bottom of Haymaker Hill; then I couldn’t pick up a signal. I just ran all the way to the summit.”
“So no one’s tailin’ her?” Parker’s heart jerked with fear. “Damn it, Clint. What the hell’s wrong with your truck?”
“I don’t know. It started sputtering and then died on me. I couldn’t get it going again.”
Parker had a very bad feeling about this. Clint’s ranch mechanic kept all of the Circle H vehicles in perfect running condition. It made no sense that the truck would suddenly die. Oh, God. Rainie was unprotected. He needed to call her and tell her to stay inside the supermarket until he could get there.
Rainie prayed with everything she had all the way to her house, but Peter never once drew the knife from her throat. As she parked in the driveway and cut the engine, her cell phone suddenly began to play “The Way We Were,” a ring tone that she had assigned exclusively to Parker.
“That’ll either be lover boy or his brother, calling to tell you that your watchdog of the day had car trouble and couldn’t follow you into town.” Peter leered at her in the mirror. “Everything is going exactly as planned except that I expected him to call sooner. Answer, put him on speaker, and then tell him you’re already home and everything’s fine. Be convincing, or I’ll slit your throat.”
Unable to turn her head because of the knife, Rainie groped in her purse for her cell, flipped it open with one hand, pressed the speaker icon, and put the phone to her ear. “Hi.”
Parker’s voice came over the line, taut with concern. “Sweetheart, Clint’s truck crapped out on him at the bottom of Haymaker Hill. He didn’t follow you into town. I’m fixin’ to leave right now. Just stay inside the store until I get there. All right?”
“I’ve already finished my shopping and left the market.” She met Peter’s glittering gaze in the mirror. “No worries, though. Everything’s fine. I just got home and I’ll lock up tight as soon as I get inside.”
“Promise? I’m a little worried. Clint’s mechanic is top-notch. It seems odd that the truck suddenly broke down that way.”
Peter clenched his fist in her hair again. Some things never changed. He still delighted in inflicting pain.
“I’m fine, Parker. Really.”
“You’re sure? Did you watch in your rearview mirror to make sure no one was
followin’ you?”
Rainie yearned to cry out, No, because he’s right here in the car with me! But she knew Peter would kill her if she dared. So instead she put a smile in her voice and said, “I’m perfectly fine, Parker. I can’t wait to go inside, put on the cider, and start making the fudge.”
“Fudge? Yum. That’s my favorite, a lot better than sugar cookies.”
Please, Parker, pick up on that, Rainie thought frantically. I’m supposed to make mulled wine, not cider, and Halloween cookies, not fudge. Who makes fudge for Halloween?
“Well,” he said, “if you’re sure you’re fine, I’ll stop by my place to grab my camera and a quick shower before I leave then. I smell like horses and wintergreen liniment.”
No, no, no. You’re not getting it, Parker. Think. I’ve been planning to decorate cookies for days. “All right,” she forced out. “I’m going to freshen up, too. I’m all sticky from racing around the store. I’d like a nice bath before I put on my leotard and tutu.”
“You’re dressin’ up as a ballerina instead of a witch?”
In the rearview mirror, Peter’s face contorted with rage, and he pressed the knife harder against Rainie’s throat. His message was clear: He was onto her.
Thinking quickly, Rainie said, “I have both costumes and changed my mind. A ballerina is a lot sexier than a witch.”
“You’ve got that right.” Parker whistled under his breath. “I can’t wait to see you in a tutu. Forget the fudge. I’ll have you instead.”
Tears burned in Rainie’s eyes. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Have a good look-see around the neighborhood before you get out of the car. All right? If you notice anything suspicious, just lock the car doors, call me back, and sit tight until I get there.”