Sharon Dunn - Fatal Vendetta

“I’ve never been very good at that,” he said. “And I have no interest in being bought out or controlled by some corporate entity.”

“You should at least try not to burn bridges before they’re even built,” she said. “Both of you are in the same business. It wouldn’t kill you to be cordial.”

He let out a breath. “Sorry, I’m not the king of diplomacy. That seems to be your gift. Maybe you can help me with that.”

The music swelled, and they turned toward the dance floor as it filled with couples. He grabbed her hand before she had time to protest and whirled her out there.

Trepidation crept in. Dancing meant touching in a sustained way, which always made her nervous. “I’m not much of a dancer,” she said.

He offered her a disarming smile. “It beats networking.” He took her hand.

His touch was disarming.

As the waltz played, his hand warmed the middle of her back. She cupped his shoulder. For the first time in ten years, she was allowing a man other than her father to touch her for any length of time. Dancing was safe. At least that’s what she told herself, but butterflies in her stomach relayed another story.

He circled her around the dance floor with ease. As the song played, she found herself relaxing just a little. He was such a good dancer, she didn’t even have to think about the steps.

She whirled around and then looked at him. His blue, almost gray eyes blazed through her, and she thought she saw just a hint of affection there. The idea made her heart flutter, but she pulled away as the song ended as fear invaded her awareness.

He seemed to instinctually know that he shouldn’t touch her. Instead, he stood close to her. “Sorry, networking made me nervous. I needed to escape.”

She walked toward the food table, grabbing a glass and filling it with punch. “Where did you learn how to dance like that?” Her heart was still racing as she handed him the drink.

“Believe it or not, knowing how to waltz got me a contact I needed for a story years ago.” He took a sip of his drink.

“Oh, really, where was that?”

“Baltimore.” His jawline went taut. Clearly, he didn’t like it when she probed about his past. Her journalist mind just couldn’t let go of the idea that he was hiding something.

She poured herself a drink and then tilted her glass toward a corner of the room. “The mayor is over there. Would you like to take a shot at diplomacy again?”

His back stiffened. “Maybe later. Can you excuse me for just a moment? Point me in the direction of the restroom.”

Elizabeth shook her head as she watched him cross the room. After saying hello to several people, her nerves were on edge. Being in public was harder than she’d been prepared for. She found herself wishing for Zach’s return. Nobody mentioned the abduction directly, but the body language of the people she spoke to suggested a certain level of discomfort.

Neil Thompson’s laughter rose above the murmur as he slapped the back of one of the men he was with. He started to turn in her direction. She panicked. The last person she wanted to talk to was Neil.

She hurried over to an out-of-the-way table by the kitchen and sat down. Her view of the room was slightly obscured, and noise from the kitchen overpowered the party chatter. She took in a deep breath, hoping to stop her racing heart. She really wasn’t ready yet to be out in public. Only Zach’s presence had made it bearable, and without him by her side, she felt overwhelmed.

“Excuse me, miss.” A waiter stood beside her table. “A man asked me to give you this.” He placed a folded piece of paper on the table and walked away.

She picked it up and unfolded it. In bold type the note said I am watching you.

Her breath caught. She jerked to her feet and glanced around at the crowd of people. No one looked in her direction. By the time she stepped outside to catch a breath of fresh air and get away from the crowd, anxiety raged through her.

She crossed her arms over her body. She needed to go home now. Or maybe she needed to talk to the police chief. He was here tonight. In her haste to leave the ballroom, she’d dropped the note. She gazed out on the dark river, allowing the rushing water to calm her. Her phone buzzed, indicating she had a text. The noise startled her.

Her fingers trembled as she unclipped the fastener on her clutch and pulled out her phone. Was the stalker texting her now? She pressed the button that opened up her texts. Zach. She let out the breath she’d been holding and read.

Where R U?

She saw him through the glass wall that separated the balcony from the ballroom. He looked up from his phone, his expression changing. He must have seen something on her face even at this distance.

He stepped outside and moved toward her. “Elizabeth, what is it?”

She could barely get the words out. “He’s...here.”

Zach stepped closer to her. “Who? You mean the man who... How do you know?”

“A waiter brought me a note that said...” She swallowed. “He was watching me.”

“Where is the note?”

She looked at her empty hands. “I must have dropped it.” She’d been so upset, she wasn’t thinking straight.

“Do you remember what the waiter looked like?”

She stared through the glass wall. All the waiters were dressed the same in white shirts and black pants. “I think if I saw him I might.”

He cupped her elbow. “Let’s go back in there.”

She took in a ragged breath. He’s in there watching me.

Zach’s soft tone indicated that he’d picked up on her fear. “I’ll stay with you the whole time. You want this guy put away, don’t you?”

She nodded, took in a breath and steeled herself against the fear.

“We’ll just walk around the room.”

He stepped inside with her. She studied not only the waiters but the other guests, looking for any sign of menace as she skirted the edges the ballroom and then threaded between the tables. She had a vague memory of the waiter’s short dark hair...and glasses. He had glasses. “That’s him.” She pointed to a waiter headed through the swinging doors that led to the kitchen.

Zach grabbed her hand, and they hurried across the floor. A cacophony of noise assaulted them as they entered the humid kitchen. Cooks shouting at each other cooks, waiters shouting at cooks, pans banging, food sizzling and water running.

Zach caught the waiter as he picked up a plate. “Did you give this woman a note earlier?”

The waiter studied Elizabeth for a moment and then nodded. “The news lady. I didn’t realize it was you.”

Elizabeth stepped toward him. She purged her voice of any fear and switched on to reporter mode. “Can you describe the man who gave you the note?”

The waiter shrugged. “I look at a thousand faces in a night, taking orders from all of them.” He shook his head.

“Can’t you remember anything?”

“Sorry, I can’t help you.” He made his way toward the swinging door.

Disappointment saturated Zach’s voice. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

“Let’s go back to the table. Maybe the note is still there.” There might be fingerprints on it or something that would help the police track her tormentor.

A quick search revealed that the note was not to be found. She was mad at herself for having dropped it. She didn’t like being rattled like that. Usually, she was pretty levelheaded.

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand.” Zach led her toward the door.

She scanned the sea of faces one more time before leaving the ballroom. Neil Thompson locked her in his gaze and stalked toward her.

She walked faster. “Let’s get out of here before he has a chance to dive-bomb me.”

As they hurried outside, the sharp heaviness of terror sunk through her skin and permeated to the bone. It was a fear she knew would be her strange companion until the man who had abducted her was behind bars.