B.J. Daniels - Mystery Bride

“Sam—?”

Her heart began to pound at the once oh-so-familiar voice on her machine.

“It’s Lucas.”

As if he had to tell her. On key, her heart began to ache. Funny, but even after all these years just the sound of him could still make her hurt. Lucas. She swore under her breath and almost missed the rest of his message.

“I need your help, Sam. I’m in trouble. I need you to look after—”

She heard a noise in the background. Then silence.

She stared at the phone in disbelief. She hadn’t even realized he knew where to find her. And now, after all these years and everything that had happened, Lucas had the nerve to call her out of the blue and say, “Hey, I’m in trouble. I need your help. Look after—” After what? His dog? His cat? His boat? His finances? Her heart began to beat harder. Oh God, surely he wasn’t going to say his son? Zack? But why call her? Why not call Zack’s mother?

She dialed Seattle information, got Lucas’s home number and called it. The line rang and rang.

She hung up, unable to shake the scared feeling that had settled around her heart. Distracted, she barely noticed the dark-colored van that pulled out after her a few blocks from the party.

Normally, she could lose herself behind the wheel. Especially in the convertible with the top down. But on the five-hour drive home to Butte, not even speed, the cool fall night or letting her hair down could keep her from thinking about the party, Will Sheridan, the kiss and Lucas’s call.

When she pulled into her driveway a little after 2:00 a.m., she saw in the headlights that something was terribly wrong. The front door of her small house stood open. She pulled her .357 from beneath the seat and carefully opened the car door.

The night was black, the shadows hunkering in the bushes around the house even blacker. A deathly quiet hung over the neighborhood. Not even the dog down the street barked.

As she padded barefoot to the front door, she raised the weapon, bracing herself for whatever might be waiting inside. The place had been ransacked. She wasn’t overly neat, but she could see the damage the moment she stepped in. A faint light leaked out of the kitchen, spilling across the cluttered floor.

She swore under her breath. Why would someone do this? It wasn’t as if she had much of value to steal. Behind her, through the still-open doorway, she heard a car engine. She turned in time to see a dark-colored van cruise by. It was too dark to see the driver, not that she paid that much attention. The van continued on down the street, the sound of its engine dying away as she turned back to her vandalized house.

She quickly searched the two floors. Nothing seemed to be missing, not that she could really tell in all this mess. The thing was, whoever had broken in hadn’t bothered with her TV, stereo, VCR or the two good paintings she’d purchased for the living room. That about covered everything of value.

Once sure the burglar was not inside, she locked up and dialed 911, requesting her father, knowing she was in for a lecture on security systems.

She had barely hung up from talking with him when the phone rang, making her jump. Trying to still her racing pulse, she picked up the receiver, expecting to hear Lucas’s voice.

“Samantha?”

Talk about déjà vu. Another blast from the past. Memories drifted over her like confetti—bright-colored vivid flashes of the past. Almost all of it painful.

“Cassie?”

It had been years since she’d heard from her former college roommate. Not since Cassie’s wedding to Lucas. Certainly not since Cassie’s divorce from Lucas a year later.

In those few seconds, she wondered what Cassie had been doing the past five years. It beat wondering what would’ve happened if Lucas had never met Cassie.

“I know it’s been a long time—” Cassie sounded apologetic.

The call shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Not after the one from Lucas.

But there was something else in Cassie’s tone that made her wary. “What’s wrong?” she asked, remembering Lucas’s cryptic message on her machine.

“Have you heard from Lucas?” Cassie asked.

Her heart began to pound again. “Just a short message on my machine. I tried to call him, but I didn’t get an answer.”

“Have you talked to him lately?” Cassie asked, sounding hesitant.

“No.” She hated to admit that she hadn’t even thought of Lucas in a long time. The great love of her life. The great loss of her life. When had she quit thinking about him every minute of every day?

“Or received a letter or maybe a package from him?” Cassie asked, her voice taut.

Heart racing, Sam asked, “Cassie, what’s happened?”

“Lucas has disappeared and Zack—” Cassie’s voice broke. “Oh, Sam, I need your help.”

Wolf Point, Montana

Two days later

Will Sheridan prided himself on his tenacity. Samantha’s sudden disappearance the night of the party had left him all the more eager to find her.

But before very long he’d realized it wasn’t going to be as simple as he’d hoped. There was no Samantha Moore listed in the phone book. Nor did any of the Moores listed in Billings, Montana, know of a Samantha who fit her description.

Worse, when he’d called his sister, she’d been distracted over the commissioner’s recent resignation.

“He’s being investigated for corruption—corruption, mind you. And he was at my party,” she cried. “Can you imagine? A criminal at one of my parties?”

“Alleged criminal,” he noted distractedly, then quickly asked her about Samantha Moore.

Katherine assured him that no one by the name of Samantha Moore had been invited to the party—not as a guest or as a date of an invited guest.

“Are you sure you didn’t just imagine this woman?”

His sister had sounded a little peeved because he hadn’t cared for the woman she’d had in mind for him. Not that Jennifer Finley hadn’t been adequate.

But she was no Samantha Moore. After Samantha, no other woman held any interest for him.

There were, however, several things about her that did cause him concern. The first of which was the Sudden and Sensuous Kiss.

And the fact that she’d literally disappeared from the party afterward. Why was that? He might have thought her shy, if not for the kiss. Or perhaps she hadn’t wanted Katherine to see her, since Samantha wasn’t, it appeared, an invited guest. Another small concern.

Neither explanation seemed to fit, but whatever the reason for her disappearance, he intended to find her. And he’d told Katherine as much.

“I just hope you know what you’re getting into,” she’d said haughtily before hanging up.

Did he? He’d assured himself with his usual confidence that he could handle whatever there was to learn about the woman. After all, unless he was completely wrong about her, she was going to be his wife.

And he was seldom wrong about things.

Two days later, on a hot, late-fall afternoon, he found her quite by accident. She was sitting in a blue Firebird in Wolf Point, Montana, her attention on something in the opposite direction from him.

He’d literally done a double take when he saw her as he drove past. She didn’t look anything like she had at Katherine’s party. And yet, he’d have known her anywhere.

His first impulse was to get out of his car and walk up to her driver’s window. She had it rolled down, and was leaning back in the seat as if waiting for someone in the shade of the trees lining the quiet street.

He pulled over half a block past her car and walked back, coming up behind the Firebird. The car had plates for Silverbow County—a county clear across the state from where he’d first seen her. He wondered what she was doing in Wolf Point—sitting in a car this far from home. If her home even was in Silverbow County. And the car seemed all wrong for the woman he’d met at the party. Maybe she’d borrowed it from a friend.