Her Country Heart (20 page)

Money Power and Poison

CHAPTER One

Excerpt

In
the midnight gloom of a residential street in Carmel, California, business owner Kathryn Carlyle watched the city’s dim lights from the back seat of a speeding police car. She gasped for air as dread tightened her throat.
This can’t be happening to me.

The catering van she drove to billionaire software developer Conner Harrison’s birthday party had been impounded as evidence by the police. She rubbed her throbbing temples to release the pain accumulated there.

Two blocks from her beachfront condo, she snatched a breath of air. “Please stop. I have to get out.”

The middle-aged officer guided the patrol car to stop. “We’re not finished. Go, but don’t leave town.”

He’d probably been waiting all night to use that cliché.
Don’t leave town.
She almost laughed, except nothing funny had happened tonight.

She exited the car and inhaled the sea breeze as it rustled her hair. It was such a welcome change from the stifling atmosphere that contaminated the police station where she’d spent the last few hours. How long before the man came back to arrest her?

Relieved to be in her safe neighborhood, she took a deeper breath, kicked off her black leather pumps, and sat on a driftwood log overlooking the serene bay.

She swallowed as nausea swirled in her stomach. The fact that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast didn’t help. Always nervous before an event, she’d planned to eat after Mr. Harrison’s party. Now he hovered near death. The thought of eating brought bile to the back of her throat. Why did the authorities think she poisoned a man she’d only met once? A nightmare had snared her and was holding her in its grip. When Mr. Harrison died the charge against her would be murder in the first degree.

As the realization crept through her she tensed. Two deep breaths calmed her. It didn’t stop the headache forming over her right eye. True she’d had the opportunity to poison him, but no motive. She only met him because he’d asked her to cater his birthday party. With his death there was nothing to gain and a lot to lose, her reputation, her business, her life.

In the morning the police would sort out the truth of her innocence. Still, adrenaline caused her heart to race. She rubbed her temples and tried not to think.

A gust of wind circled her. She shivered and folded her arms in front of her.
Damn.
Her suit jacket was still in the patrol car.

She stood and brushed the sand from the back of her skirt and picked up her high heels and shoulder bag. Time to go home, sleep was doubtful, still at least she’d put up her sore feet.

Leaves crunched somewhere in the shadows of the nearby trees, she squinted into the darkness but didn’t see anyone. Even so, fear gripped her.

She forced her swollen feet back into her pumps and walked quickly up the dimly lit street. The click of her heels echoed in the quiet night air. The desire to flee from an unknown danger increased the speed of her footsteps.

With the exception of a black truck parked at the curb, the street was empty. The pickup’s engine revved. The cab light came on and cast an eerie glow on the driver’s face. He smiled at her.

As she thought about waving to let him know the headlights were off, the vehicle drove straight at her. It jumped the curb, sideswiped her, sending her flying.

With a thud, she landed on the muddy front lawn of a neighboring condominium. The sound of the engine faded as the vehicle disappeared.

She lay motionless on the ground. Cold mud oozed into the fabric of her skirt. A twinge jabbed her and terror banged against her rib cage.

Overriding the sense of shock was her need to get home where she’d be safe. She grabbed the strap of her purse and attempted to stand. Pain shot through her hip and down her leg. She fell back into the mud.

A man dressed in black came out of the darkness and stood over her. Before she could cry out, he bent down and covered her mouth with his huge hand.

“Don’t scream. You’ll wake the whole neighborhood. I’m not going to hurt you.” He helped her stand.

The streetlight lit his face and a lock of coffee brown hair fell over his furrowed brow. Five o’clock shadow covered his jaw and his full lips formed a grim line. Compassion shone in his obsidian eyes. It was incongruous to his hardened expression. He reminded her of someone. No name came to mind.

“Your uncle sent me,” he said in a deep voice.

“You were at the police station.” She pushed a strand of hair from her face.

“Yeah. Thought I could talk to you. They wouldn’t allow it. Can you stand by yourself?”

“I think so.” A spasm shot in her leg and her knees buckled. She grabbed him and reluctantly leaned on his lanky body for support.

“I’ll call 911.” He held her to him.

“Don’t phone them.”

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m okay.”

“The police need to know. Use my cell.”

“No. I can’t handle it. Not tonight. I’m cold. I’m muddy. I just want to go home.”

“Can you walk?”

“Yeah,” she said, hoping she could. The first step sent pain racing through her. She gasped.

With one hand he steadied her. With the other, he yanked a smart phone from his pocket. “What’s your address?”

“330 Sea View Avenue, number three.”

He punched in 911. “There’s been an accident. A woman’s hurt. I need an ambulance sent to 330 Sea View Avenue number three ASAP.”

After he pocketed his phone, he carefully scooped her up in his arms. “Let’s get you home.”

Never one to ask for help, this time she had to admit she needed it and balanced herself by putting her arm around his neck. His body heat warmed her as her cheek rested against his solid chest. Odd how protected she felt, almost as if this stranger were an old friend.

***

“Hell.” The words squeezed through the man’s teeth. Kathryn Carlyle was still alive. His blood pressure spiked. The sound of his heart thundered in his ears. The exhilaration he had experienced when he thought she was dead evaporated.

Life always shit on him. Nothing ever went the way he wanted. His hands shook, his fingers tingled and his breathing quickened. Soon he wouldn’t be able to function. To release the building tension, he opened the truck’s window, took a breath of sea air, and stared down the quiet street toward her condo.

The paramedics he’d seen earlier were leaving. Their vehicle drove down the block.

Cool and strong in his hand, he raised a rifle into position, the barrel sticking out the open window. He noticed an orange tabby cat on the sidewalk in front of Kathryn’s building. The scavenger carried something in its mouth. With the feline in view, hand steadied, his breath held, he slowly squeezed the trigger. “Ping.” The bullet flew from the chamber. The cat dropped to the ground and lay twitching.

“You shouldn’t take what doesn’t belong to you.” Pressure released, he lowered his gun, closed the truck’s window and smiled.

“Kathryn Carlyle, you’re next.”

www.reggiallder.com

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

An
author of romantic suspense and contemporary romance novels, Reggi Allder likes nothing better than telling tales of love lost and then found or stories of heroes and heroines who discover love and then wonder if they’ll live long enough to enjoy it.

She studied screen writing and creative writing at UCLA, and is a past chapter president of Romance Writers of America and a current RWA member. She is happy to hear from her readers.