Debra Webb - Striking Distance

He didn’t look at her...just kept driving. But his voice when he spoke was every bit as icy as she knew his eyes would be. “On why you picked me out in that club tonight.” He relaxed into his seat, still not so much as glancing her way. “You see, I don’t believe in coincidences. Everything happens for a reason. And—” he did look at her then...the fleeting stare chilled her to the bone “—I will know your reason.”

Chapter 9

“We lost her.”

Maverick stared at the handheld monitor, hoping like hell he’d pick up her signal again.

Nothing.

“Dammit.”

“He could have a jamming device in his vehicle,” Ramon offered from behind the wheel.

“Just keep driving,” Maverick barked. Ramon had been in this business almost as long as he had, but that didn’t give either one of them an edge at a time like this. If they couldn’t pick up a signal on the tracking device or the cell, the bastard had to have a jammer on board. It was that simple. “We gotta find that son of a bitch.”

He studied the electronic map of the vicinity where they’d last picked up the signal...where they’d last known Tasha North to be. She’d climbed into the SUV with the guy, and they’d lost her signal but had visual contact, so Maverick hadn’t worried. Then, when she’d gotten out a couple minutes later, the signal had come through loud and clear once more. He shook his head and hissed another curse from between gritted teeth. The bastard had a jammer in his vehicle, all right. He knew all the ropes and wasn’t taking any chances.

Able to maintain visual contact for a while, they’d followed him for several blocks. But, erring on the side of caution, they’d had to lag too far behind to keep up. He’d moved out of visual range...the signal hadn’t returned.

Now she was gone.

Maverick called up on the screen a ten-mile radius relative to the last visual sighting. “We’ll take this area one block at a time and hope we spot his SUV.”

“And if we don’t?” Ramon asked, his expression as disgusted and worried as Maverick’s surely was.

“Then we report in.”

He didn’t have to say the rest. If they couldn’t find her soon they’d have to let Lucas know...and start looking for her body.

Chapter 10

“What did you learn?”

Lucas settled on Victoria’s sofa in the very den where approximately twenty-four hours earlier the assassin had been setting his little booby trap. He leveled his attention on the woman waiting expectantly for his response. She looked as regal as ever; the coat dress, the color of ripe peaches, flattering to both her complexion and her figure. One would never know that she’d been through pure hell. She sat in the elegantly brocaded chair directly across from him as if a briefing related to her home’s intrusion were an everyday affair.

“How are you holding up, Victoria?”

Though she looked prepared for anything, her shoulders square, her chin lifted high. He knew better. This couldn’t be easy.

“Lucas, I need to know what you’ve learned. Please don’t attempt to spare my feelings. It’s far too late for that.”

He set his cane aside and looked her straight in the eye. “He’s been in your home, as you know. Planting the device that opened your window would have been impossible by any other means. He left no prints that we can find. Nor did he leave any other surprises.”

She shifted slightly then. He resisted the urge to shake his head. No matter what she said she wasn’t as ready for this as she wanted him to believe.

“So you’ll keep my home under twenty-four-hour surveillance now.”

It wasn’t a question. She already knew the answer. Lucas had hoped to conceal the depth of his awareness regarding the assassin’s movements, but that was impossible now. He would note the increased surveillance on the home. That couldn’t be helped. But keeping his suspicions from the assassin that Leberman was behind this was imperative.

“Yes.”

“He’ll realize that we know, then,” Victoria noted, reading Lucas’s mind.

He nodded. He tried without success to keep the other worry from interfering with his concentration. They’d lost contact with Tasha at one this morning. If the bastard had killed her...

Lucas forced the idea away. Tasha was too good to go down this easy. He refused to believe she was dead...just yet.

Something changed in Victoria’s eyes. Her expression went from firm and solemn to fragile and frightened. “What about the ice cream.”

This was the part he’d dreaded the most. “Freda didn’t bring the ice cream.” He managed a smile. “She swears she’s still on a diet.”

Victoria nodded stiffly. “I thought as much.”

Lucas leaned forward, braced his forearms on his knees. “Is there a possibility that you picked it up by accident. Didn’t notice that one of the flavors was chocolate.”

The weariness that settled over her expression then tied his insides into knots. “You know, I’ve considered that possibility over and over.” She clasped her hands together in her lap. “I’m nearly certain I didn’t...but then I can’t be sure.” She looked at Lucas. “I’ve even wondered if I’m losing my mind entirely. Having memory lapses maybe.” She looked away and shook her head. “I just don’t know.”

“Yours are the only prints we found on the carton.”

Her gaze met his once more, and the anxiety there almost undid him completely.

“But that doesn’t really mean anything,” he hastened to add. “Since he didn’t leave his prints anywhere else, either.”

He didn’t want her to go through another moment of this. Couldn’t bear it. “Victoria, I think it’s time for us to make those plans. I’d like to get you away from the danger. I don’t like how close he’s gotten.”

She appeared to consider his suggestion for a few moments, but before she could respond, Logan came to the door of the room. Lucas pushed to his feet and strode across the room to see what news Logan had brought. When he moved into the entry hall, farther away from Victoria, Lucas’s tension ratcheted up a notch.

“I just received additional information on the brand of the ice cream.”

His people were analyzing the chocolate ice cream from every standpoint, from taste to the manufacturer.

“I assume it’s a local manufacturer.”

The look in Logan’s eyes set him even closer to the edge.

“It used to be. But that brand hasn’t been manufactured at all for more than ten years.”

Chocolate. Little Jimmy Colby’s favorite. Even the brand was the one Victoria remembered buying for her only child. But it had been off the market for ten years.

“So he’s been keeping it all this time,” Lucas suggested.

Logan nodded. “The age of the product would be consistent with that theory.”

The memory of those hours on St. Gabriel Island when he’d been face-to-face with Leberman for the first time in nearly two decades came pouring into his mind. The bastard hadn’t said much...had apparently gotten his jollies from merely watching Lucas squirm when faced with the realization that Victoria was somewhere on that island and he couldn’t protect her. Lucas hadn’t cared if the bastard killed him but he couldn’t bear the idea of him hurting Victoria any more than he already had.

Something had been different.

For all those years Leberman had lain in wait. Then, out of the blue, he struck. He could have killed Lucas... possibly even Victoria. But he’d disappeared instead. He’d played them. Lured them into his trap, dangled the possibility of death, then disappeared, leaving someone else to finish the task. But that had been a ploy. Leberman had known the effort would fail. Everything that happened on that island had been a precursor. Some sort of test or preliminary tactic for the real thing. An appetizer to the main course, so to speak.