Out of Circulation (Hemlock Creek Suspense Book 1) (5 page)

"You look pensive," he said.

"Sorry."

"It's not a bad look. But I do prefer your smile."

She smiled in return for his compliment as she pulled into the driveway. "Thanks. And, Ace?" She pulled out the key and looked full into those disarming blue eyes. "I understand where you're coming from."

****

As Katie dropped her brown sack purse to the couch, Ace noticed a white envelope protruding from an inside pocket. He pointed to it.

"Love letter?" he joked.

She drew her eyebrows together. "I don't know what that is. Reba already gave me my paycheck."

Pulling the envelope out, she gasped. "It's from them—I just know it. It says
To Miss McClure
."

What? That purse had been sitting right there, on the librarians' desk, the entire time. How could anyone have slipped something in? Was Reba in league with Anatoly's thugs? Or had they taken advantage of his one bathroom break and shoved it in then?

Katie ripped into it before he could stop her, tearing the entire end off the envelope. He hoped they hadn't laced it with anthrax or some chemical weapon. Katie's hands shook as she pulled out a crumpled piece of notebook paper and read:

"We're done playing games, Miss McClure. Anatoly wants what's rightfully his. Your family will stay in our sights until you bring us what your daddy stole. You send us a text message at this number when you find something: 212-589-3316. It's untraceable so don't even bother. If we don't hear from you in four days, we will come and find it ourselves."

She slumped to the couch and Ace grabbed the paper, hating that they had threatened her. And now she knew—

"What Dad stole? What are they talking about? And who is Anatoly?" Tears welled in her eyes.

He had to play dumb, but at the same time, this was an opportunity he couldn't afford to pass up.

"I think Anatoly is a famous crime boss in New York—I've read news articles on him." He tried to sound casual. "I remember he pulled off a huge bank heist years ago, but they couldn't pin it on him because the money was never found." He watched for a reaction from Katie. Did she know more than she let on?

She seemed oblivious. "But what would my dad have to do with that?"

He hesitated for effect. "Your dad was in the FBI. Maybe he was in charge of Anatoly's case?"

She shook her head, straight red hair slipping over her shoulders. "Dad never mentioned an Anatoly."

Time for a direct prod. "But did he keep records of his cases somewhere? Didn't you say he had an office?"

She sat up straighter. "Yes, he had one—it's right down the hall. Maybe we should see if he kept any files."

He extended his hand, helping her up. This threatening note had turned out to be a windfall for him. "Okay, but first let's eat something. You're still shaking."

In the kitchen, Katie slowly assembled one turkey sandwich for herself and two ham and Swiss on rye for him. She loaded a large bag of chips, apples, two water bottles, and a package of Oreos into an antique-looking picnic basket.

She fixed him with a determined look. "Let's eat in the woods at the picnic table. I don't care if they're watching us—I have to get out of the house."

He nodded. "I'm locked and loaded."

"Hang on." She went down to her dad's office. When she returned, she racked the slide on the Sig, fitting it into her belt holster.

He carried the picnic basket as they made their way into the still forest. Shafts of sunlight filtered onto Katie's thick red mane, lighting it afire as she cleaned the table. The silent near-reverence of the clearing felt liberating. It chinked at the invisible armor he'd draped around his heart. He forgot about his mission. He forgot about everything except the light touch of Katie's pale fingers as she handed him his sandwich, a lustrous gleam in her eyes.

An uninvited thought hit him with such surety, he couldn't shake it. Grandma would have loved Katie. She would've called her a "sweet young woman" and urged Ace to pursue her.

It was as if he were being prodded from the grave. Or maybe from God.

He shook his head. Fanciful thinking, indeed. He had one job, and one job only: find the money for his boss so he could move on without a prison threat hanging over him...or even worse, an unspoken death threat. He was fairly certain he'd be taking a long walk off a short plank if he didn't find that money.

As they began to eat, he gently led the conversation in the direction he wanted. "I know that note must have rattled you. Not to cast aspersions on your dad, but he was an FBI agent, and they do know how to keep mum." He waited a moment to let that insinuation sink in.

As it did, her eyes widened. "I know my dad wouldn't lie."

"But what if he tried to protect his family by not telling anyone? What if that money is sitting around somewhere?"

Was he laying it on too heavy? Did he seem too eager?

She sighed. "I suppose I could check some other places, just to be sure. I don't want those cretins 'keeping my family in their sights,' or however they put it."

He nodded. "I can help you."

"Thanks." Her gaze flitted from the trees to the house, then to her half-eaten sandwich, then finally rested on him. "I hate this feeling. What if someone's watching me right now?"

He leaned across the table, touching her hand. "I'm here."

She offered him a brave smile, but continued. "I mean, anything could happen. I can't get away, Ace. I can't run. I hate being so...inept. Of course I'm the perfect target for these goons."

The Oreo seemed stuck in his throat. Her fear was grounded—she couldn't run if those mobsters chased her. He had to distract her.

"Didn't you say you're off work tomorrow? We could go shooting, then nose around some of those possible hiding places. Better to feel like you're proactive, rather than reactive, I always say."

She rested her elbows on the table, obviously relieved. "I shouldn't have to work unless Reba gets desperate. Tomorrow it is. We can go to the range my dad liked." She stood and began tidying up, her long hair swishing like she was in a shampoo ad.

"And maybe after work today, we could check out your dad's office," he added, as if it were an afterthought.

Her gaze sharpened for a split second. He candidly met her eyes, but his insides twisted with the weight of his own treachery. Docile as Katie McClure seemed, he was betting there was a serrated edge to that smooth demeanor. An edge that would push her to take risks for her family.

Risks such as putting her trust in a fake bodyguard like him.

****

Their search of Dad's office hadn't turned up anything. Katie hadn't wanted to let on about the note, so she told Mom they were looking for more ammo—which wasn't entirely untrue. They had emptied every drawer and file, working into the evening. Finally, after a late supper, they had agreed there was nothing to be found and headed to their respective rooms.

The pitch-dark night sky seemed to amplify every little noise outside her window. She was positive someone was creeping around, but the dogs next door were silent, so she finally turned on her box fan around three in the morning and drifted into turbulent dreams.

Reba had asked her to come to the library for a half-day, but she and Ace could hit the shooting range after that. She didn't want to admit it, but being around the buff bodyguard made her feel secure.

Stepping out of her morning shower, she thought about the threatening note she had handed off to him. If she contemplated the scrawled message inside, an icy wedge of fear stabbed at her.

A song from her childhood came to mind—a Bible verse set to music. "When I am afraid, I will trust in Thee." She hummed it to herself, over and over, trying to displace the anxiety. Yes, even more than Ace, she had to trust in God. But that didn't mean she had to drop her guard. Shooting practice would come in handy, giving her confidence to conceal-carry the Sig, at least until the threat blew over.

But she knew it wouldn't blow over until Anatoly's thugs got their money.

Donning her favorite khaki jacket and brown pants, she twisted her hair up and glanced at her reflection. All she needed was a pair of black glasses to scream
Librarian
. If only she could glam it up like Molly. She had a brief image of herself at The Greenbrier restaurant, dressed to the nines, across from Ace in a tuxedo. He would look a little like Cary Grant, she decided.

A knock on her door pulled her back to reality. "You ready?" Ace sounded impatient. "I already got breakfast but we're running late."

She sighed. Ace didn't phrase things like a Southerner. He didn't soften his bluntness or coddle her. He never called her
honey
or
sweetie
like most men did. And yet somehow that made him seem more trustworthy.

She grabbed her purse and slipped into brown ballet flats. She would try not to think of oversized thugs and threatening notes. Today she would focus on the children at the library and rest in the quiet presence of the strong man who watched her every move.

****

Ace hated to waste more time at the library, but searching the house without Katie would never fly. He could only hope the half-day passed quickly so he could get down to the business he came here for.

He covertly observed Katie as she drove. Her face seemed to radiate a peaceful glow. How did she find that peace in the middle of the storm raging around her? She and Mrs. McClure were still eating regular meals, but his own appetite had dwindled after a late-night follow-up call from his boss. The gist of it was find the money...
or else
.

He wiped sweat from his forehead. It must be ninety degrees in this piece-of-junk car, but it was probably all she could afford. Unbuttoning the sleeves on his yellow Brooks Brothers shirt, he haphazardly shoved them up to his elbows.

The heat served to fuel his frustration. If only Katie would work up her confidence and move to a larger city, she could have a decent-paying job that utilized her obvious people skills. That limp seemed to control her life. No one should let anything control them...trap them.

And yet here he sat, trapped. Controlled by a cruel and wicked man. He stretched his leg and kicked the door, not accidentally.

She shot a glance at him. "You okay? Sorry it's so hot. The A/C hasn't worked for years so the car vents just blow hot air around. You want to open windows instead?"

"Sure." He tried to mellow his tone, but couldn't. What was she doing sitting here with him, trusting him? Why hadn't her mom been more wary of a strange bodyguard, no matter how perfectly his credentials had checked out?

Because Ace was too slick, that's why. His boss had chosen him because of that.

The wind tugged strands from her updo, whipping them around her face. What a contrast she was with the Manhattan up-and-comers he had dated. Those meticulously-coiffed women would have run screaming from this clunker that doubled as a wind tunnel.

Yet Katie merely hummed along, oblivious to the wind...and to how completely she had mesmerized him. He couldn't tear his eyes from that soft freckled skin, those plush lips, and that wild hair.

He had to get it together. He had to finish this job.

She slowed as she pulled into the library parking lot. "My space is taken," she said, turning the wheel and crawling up the rows. "Good grief—all the spaces are taken. I hope there wasn't some event going on that I forgot about."

He pointed to an open area behind the dumpster. "Reba probably wouldn't mind if you parked there, would she?"

Only after she had maneuvered into the tight space did he realize her car would be out of eyesight from the library window. It probably wouldn't be a problem, but he'd be sure to leave early after work and sweep the area.

"Thanks for the help." She grabbed her bag and shot him a warm smile. "Time to go impress some kiddos with your big guns." She winked.

A nearly chemical surge caught him off-guard. In so many words, Katie McClure just let him know she found him attractive. A lesser man would prey on that vulnerability to get what he wanted. And today, Ace was that lesser man.

****

Children begged for another story as Katie finished reading the final chapter of
My Father's Dragon
aloud. She pointed them to the next book in the series, in sore need of a stretch and a snack.

"Thank you so much." One lingering mother patted her back before hustling her children to their next summer activity. Katie returned to her chair, noticing Ace wasn't positioned in his usual spot. Maybe he had taken a snack break himself.

She imagined what it would be like without her loyal bodyguard around. Presumably, as soon as the cops caught up with those thugs, Ace would high-tail it back to New York City. He had given her note to the police in hopes they could analyze the handwriting and trace the phone to track down Anatoly's henchmen.

Grabbing her purse, she headed to the bathroom to re-twist her hair and apply lip gloss. She should have done that upon arrival at the library, but the kids had nearly attacked her, begging her to start reading early. It did feel nice to be loved.

Leaning in toward the mirror, she tried to observe her reflection dispassionately. Clear green eyes, now easily visible because she'd pinned back her bangs. A brand-new flush to her usually pale cheeks. An upward tilt to her lips and only a slight crease in her forehead, which told her that even though she was stressing over that death-threat note, something was keeping her afloat.

That something was Ace. She wanted to kick herself. It needed to be God, not some dude. But what a dude he was. She couldn't wait to get home and change, pick up the Sig, and hit the range. Ace could probably share all kinds of shooting tips with her.

She moved to dodge a woman entering the bathroom, then froze as a boom louder than thunder ripped through the air.

This time she wasn't the one who gave the warning. "Hit the floor!" Ace's deep shout bounced over rows of books as he jogged toward her. She let the bathroom door close fully, but wasn't able to take a step before Ace tackled her, pinning her to the ground.

"Shh. Wait."

"What was that?" She tried to slow her breathing, even though she felt like she was hyperventilating.

"I said
shh
." He released his grip on her wrists, so tight it would probably leave bruises. "Stay put. Sounded like an explosion."

"An
explosion
? I have to check on the children! And Reba! And—"

"You'll do no such thing. I am phoning the police. You aren't going to move until I figure out what's going on." He pulled her to a sitting position. His eyes were dark with concern. "Will you stay here until I come back?"

"You can't leave me! You're my bodyguard!" She probably sounded like a whining child.

He pushed her hair aside and leaned in toward her ear. The proximity of his breath, his masculine smell, and his deep, reassuring voice nearly unleashed her brimming tears.

"I'm not going to leave you alone, Katie." His rough fingers lightly grazed her neck as he shifted her hair back over her shoulders. "I promise."

She settled against the wall, determined to be strong. Some kind of FBI agent she would have made, nearly crumpling into tears in the face of a loud blast.

As Ace went to check things out, she began to pray there would be no more explosions.

For the first time, she allowed herself to entertain the possibility that the bank heist money could have fallen into Dad's possession. If it had, didn't she have a responsibility to find it and stop this madness?

Maybe it wasn't even Dad's doing. What if his partner, Jim Chrisman, had been dirty? He could have hidden the money somewhere. Strangely enough, Jim's life had also been cut short, undetected late-stage cancer taking him a year before Dad. She remembered Jim's jokes about her red hair every time he came to go fishing on Dad's boat.

There was an idea: they could search the boat. She hadn't been to the marina in years, but Mom maintained the membership for Brandon, since Dad had left his boat to him.

She was tired of being a target. It was time to go proactive, like Ace had said.

****

Staring at the smoldering, twisted remains of Katie's car, Ace wished he could beat himself up.

Bomb-sniffing dogs had swept the parking lot and the library and it became apparent that only one charge had been set—directly under Katie's car.

He now realized it was no accident that all the parking spots had been taken this morning. He cringed, imagining Anatoly's men as they hunched in multiple cars, observing Katie and him. After he'd obliviously walked her into the library, those punks had probably planted that C4 charge and later remote-detonated it.

At least they had blown the heap after the kids left the library, and before they had walked to the car at closing time. That told Ace they weren't ready to kill Katie yet. They still believed she would find the money.

After sharing his suspicions with the police sergeant, he walked toward the library, but the sergeant motioned him up the hill. "They've been evacuated. That way."

Ace followed the man's pointing finger up the incline the building was situated on. On Main Street, a cluster of library evacuees huddled in front of the bank. He easily spotted Katie's towering red head and rushed to her side.

"What happened, Ace? Before they moved us over here I looked out the window—where's my car?"

There was no way to soften the truth. As he explained that her car had been the target of an explosive charge, she began to shake violently.

Instinctively, he pulled her close and smoothed her forehead as he would a feverish child. "Shh. It's okay. It's going to be okay." He tried to ignore how perfectly her body snuggled into his side. She was tall, but the right kind of tall.

A coconut scent wafted from her hair and he tried to focus. "I'll get you home, don't worry."

She pulled back, resting her still-shaking hands on his chest. But determination filled the steady gaze she leveled on him. "No. We're not going to go slinking home. I'll phone Mom and see if someone can pick us up, but we're going to get your rental car and take a little trip to our storage unit and some other places. It's high time we started hunting for that money so I can protect my family."

****