Return To Stony Ridge

Except cement would have been more cooperative. There wasn’t an ounce of cooperation in this sodden woman. He had to pin her legs so she couldn’t kick him, but there wasn’t a thing he could do about the hands that pummeled his bare back.

Lucky barked his approval of this new and exciting game. Lightning momentarily blinded him as he hurried back up the drive with his burden. R.J. figured if they made it back inside without getting killed, it would be a miracle.

By the time he mounted the steps, he was breathing heavily. He opened the door, took four steps inside and dumped her on her feet. She scrambled away, stumbling in her haste. He ignored her to close and lock the door behind Lucky, who promptly began to shake the water free from his fur all over the hall.

“Lucky, no!” He made another grab for the animal’s collar. “Not in here! Come on, we’ll go to the mudroom…”

His voice tapered off as he found himself facing the business end of a small but lethal-looking gun.

“…or not.”

She’d backed against the far wall. Her wide eyes had lost only a little of that frenzied wildness he had glimpsed outside.

Frustrated and more than a little annoyed, R.J. stared at the weapon in her hand. Even if he and Lucky had scared her half to death, the idea that she’d pull a gun on him in his own house made him angry.

“Put that thing away,” he demanded.

She took a shuddery breath. “Not a chance.”

As though finally sensing the dangerous atmosphere between the humans, Lucky plopped to a sitting position at R.J.’s feet, gazing between them with soulful eyes. His whine seemed to ask what had gone wrong.

“Stay where you are,” she commanded.

With a quick shake of her own head, she tossed back long matted strands of hair, sending droplets of water flying much as Lucky had done.

The low-voiced contralto was husky and a bit shaky, but she was in control, which was a major relief. At least she wouldn’t pull the trigger by accident.

She was a bedraggled sight with her sodden hair plastered to her head and face. Her jacket and jeans were sopping wet, as well. She reminded him of a drowned puppy. One with teeth, he decided, eyeing the gun.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You’ve got that right.”

She had guts he’d give her that much.

“Look, I’m sorry if I scared you, but we couldn’t stand around out there and you didn’t look as though you were going to listen to reason.”

“I said, don’t move!”

He halted the step he’d started to take in her direction. She was scared. Scared people with guns were apt to do stupid things. Like shoot someone.

“Fine. I’m not moving. What are you doing here?”

He knew he sounded angry, but staring down the barrel of a gun seemed to have that effect on him.

“Trying to leave,” she retorted.

“Great! Don’t let me stop you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You just did.”

“My mistake. Go.” He waved a hand toward the door.

She glared as more of the wildness faded from her gaze.

“My car’s stuck in the mud,” she admitted reluctantly.

That figured. “Where?”

She raised her chin defiantly. “Under some trees at the side of your driveway. I need help getting it out.”

He nodded at the gun. “You’ve got a strange way of asking for help, lady.”

“You grabbed me,” she pointed out. And she didn’t lower the gun.

“It was hardly a thrill. You were about to get us all killed out there. Or maybe you didn’t notice that lightning. It was practically coming down on top of us.”

“I was trying to move that branch.”

He stared at her, saw she was serious and shook his head. “You need a chainsaw.”

“So help me.”

“Not a chance, lady. I’m not suicidal. Take a look out there!”

A shiver ran through her. He decided she wasn’t going to shoot him and gave her his best glare.

“And put that thing away before you hurt someone.”

He took a step forward. Her hand tightened convulsively. Maybe she would shoot him after all. The fear was back in her eyes. He felt a twinge of guilt, but shook it aside.

“Look, I’ve had it with you. Either shoot me or don’t, but I’ve got things to do. One of those lightning strikes took out the power. Now if holding that gun makes you feel more secure, feel free, but I have to go out back to start the generator.”

R.J. suited action to words, moving with deliberate care as he started into the living room. She tensed. So did he, but the half-expected sound of a gunshot didn’t come. He continued through the dining room and out to the kitchen, releasing his breath.

Lucky padded ahead, hoping for a treat. After a second, R.J. sensed her following them.

“Watch where you step,” he cautioned gruffly without turning around. He paused to turn off the turbo fans as he went past so they wouldn’t blare to life once he started the generator.

“Are you lost?” he asked without looking at her.

“Not if you’re R.J. Monroe.”

Chapter Two

R.J. spun around. He hadn’t expected that. She took a hasty step back. Her hand was thrust inside her jacket pocket, holding the gun no doubt. She might be nervous but she faced him boldly.

“Who are you?”

“Stay where you are,” she commanded.

“Please,” he added with soft menace. She froze.

“What?”

“You aren’t real big on manners, are you? ‘Stay where you are, please.’ My foster parents were sticklers for good manners,” he explained. “They taught me a person gets a lot farther on a few please-and-thank-yous than all the bullying in the world.”

Scowling, her voice deepened. “Please.” R.J. stopped moving. “Do you always abuse a person’s hospitality this way?”

The sudden crack of thunder was so loud they both gave a start. For a second, R.J. was afraid she’d fired the gun. Lucky barked and shook himself again.

“Come here, dog.”

Ignoring her and the possibility she’d shoot him, R.J. strode past her without another word. Lucky trotted after him into the mudroom. Drying the dog off gave him a chance to collect his thoughts. She knew his name, but he was pretty sure he’d never seen her before, and he couldn’t imagine anyone being mad enough to send someone after him with a gun.

She came to the doorway, a silent shadow watching as he toweled Lucky and reached for the dog treats in the box up high on the shelf. The gun made him nervous. He had a feeling it wouldn’t take much for one to go off in inexperienced hands, and she didn’t look all that experienced to him.

Pulling a clean towel from the stack in the basket waiting to be carried upstairs, he set it on the dryer. “You can use this to dry off. I need to start the generator.”

Without waiting for her reaction, he grabbed the flashlight and a jacket from the hook and stepped back outside into the storm. The worst of it seemed to be moving away.

R.J. debated his options. He could go around to the front and try to come in behind her and take the gun away, but that seemed risky. She could have shot him already if that had been her intent. And he was curious. Who was she? What did she want?

He wished he had thought to grab his cell phone. Then he could have called Wyatt. As Stony Ridge’s chief of police, Wyatt Crossley could have told him the best way to handle this situation. Even better, he would have sent reinforcements to take the crazy lady off R.J.’s hands.

He ran around the side of the house and started down the drive. There was still too much lightning in the air for comfort, but he spotted the glint of chrome after a brilliant flash that wasn’t as close as most had been. The small car was mired in the mud under the trees all right. Well and truly stuck.

Texas plates. He whistled under his breath. She was a long way from Texas. And he didn’t know anyone from that part of the country. What was this all about? The car was locked. A purse and a pair of night-vision goggles sat on the front seat.

Not exactly standard equipment for any of the women he knew. There was also a blanket and pillow on the back seat and a tidy bag of what looked like trash on the floor.

Now why would a woman come looking for him with a gun and a pair of night-vision goggles? This made no sense, but there was only one way to get any answers. He hurried back around the house and got the generator started. For once, it purred to life without argument.

The mudroom was empty as he stepped back inside. Her jacket dripped from a hook. Nice to see she was making herself at home. He hung his beside it and checked her pocket.

“I kept the gun,” she told him.

“Figured as much.”

Unrepentant, he turned. Suddenly he was aware that his chest was bare and dripping wet. She’d used the towel to wrap her hair turban-style, but the black, long-sleeved turtleneck she’d worn under her jacket was nearly as wet as her coat. Wet enough to cling like a second skin, outlining lush curves. There were dark circles under her eyes. She looked exhausted.

He turned to the clothes dryer. He did not want to feel sorry for her. He wanted to cling to his anger, but something about her made that difficult. Pulling out a black T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, he glanced up at her.

“I have extras if you want something dry to wear. They’ll be big, but better than wet clothes.”

“I have a suitcase in my car,” she told him.

“Good. When the storm stops, you can get it.”

She frowned, watching as he used another towel to dry his hair and pat his chest dry.

“I’m about to drop my pants, so unless you want the full show, you might want to step back in the kitchen.”

The air charged with electricity more potent than the sky outside. Color suffused her cheeks. Without a word, she backed out of sight. R.J. grinned and stripped quickly, toweling himself thoroughly before donning the clean outfit.

She wasn’t beautiful, though she was pretty in a wholesome sort of way that definitely didn’t go with the gun. And while she intrigued him, he was in no mood to play games with strangers, pretty or otherwise.

He tugged his softball sweatshirt off the hook and found her standing in the middle of the kitchen, next to Lucky, looking lost.

“Here. You look cold. It’s not freshly laundered like the stuff in the dryer, but it’s warm.” Hesitantly, she accepted the sweatshirt. “There’s a bathroom off the kitchen that backs to this laundry room.”

“I know.”

So she’d done some exploring while he’d been outside. “Looking for more weapons?”

“Do you have some?”

Under other circumstances, he would have come back with a teasing rejoinder, but tonight he was all out of humor.

“If you decide to change, you can throw your wet stuff in the dryer,” he told her gruffly.

She didn’t reply and he couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

“Have you eaten?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself.”

He crossed to the gas stove and put the kettle on. A powerful gust of wind shook the old farmhouse. Aware of her standing there looking a bit uncertain, he pulled out a box of vanilla wafers. Instantly, Lucky appeared at his side.

“These aren’t for you, dog.”

His stubby tail wagged and Lucky offered a wide doggy grin. Before the woman even moved, R.J. sensed she’d made up her mind. Without a word, she went back into the laundry room and he heard the dryer open.

Satisfied, he relaxed and put the cookies on a plate. Then he set about preparing a couple of mugs of hot chocolate. Barefoot, he padded into the living room, mindful of the littered floor. After starting a fire in the fireplace, he set up a couple of TV trays. Lucky stayed with him, hoping a cookie or two might find their way to the floor.

“All you think about is your stomach, dog.”

Lucky woofed agreement. R.J. was aware that the woman had gone into the bathroom. He carried the mugs of chocolate into the living room and waited. A few minutes later, he heard her start the clothes dryer.

“I hope you like marshmallows in your chocolate,” he said when she came in, surveyed the room and perched uneasily on the edge of the couch across from him. The couch was closer to the fireplace. He figured she probably needed the warmth it would offer once the fire caught properly.

She wore a pair of his sweatpants beneath his old sweatshirt. He assumed she’d donned the clean T-shirt as well. She really did look exhausted. And ill at ease.

“What did you do with the gun?”

Her hand automatically went to her waist. “Why?”

“I like to keep track of things like guns in my house, lady. Lucky’s a gentle animal, but he takes a dim view of anyone trying to harm the person who fills his food bowl.”

Lucky gazed up at him hopefully, tongue lolling. Her color heightened, but she didn’t apologize. He sort of liked that about her.

“Stop calling me lady.”

“Fine. Give me a name.”

“Teri.”

“Just Teri?”

“For now.”

And he sort of liked that, as well. She might be tired and scared, but she wasn’t going to let him intimidate her.

“Okay. We’ve established that I’m R.J. Monroe and you came here to see me. I’m guessing you don’t want your house redone in the middle of the night, so what can I do for you?”

TERI HESITATED a second before meeting his gaze. She had the strongest urge to tell him she was Corey’s aunt and all she wanted was her nephew. But the sense of suppressed violence in him stilled the words.

“Tell me what you did with Valerie and Corey,” she demanded instead.

R.J. paused in the act of lifting a cookie. Of all the things he’d expected her to say, apparently, that hadn’t been one of them.

“What does a woman from Texas want with Valerie and her son?” he asked slowly.

A flare of panic turned her hot, then cold. “How do you know I’m from Texas?”

“License plate on your car.”

So that was what had taken him so long outside. It hadn’t occurred to her that he’d check out her car, but she’d locked it. She was pretty sure she’d locked it. So she told herself it didn’t matter and lifted her chin.

“Where are they?”

“Why should I tell you?”

She decided she didn’t like him. He was too handsome, too arrogant and more than a little intimidating. And he knew it, too. He was deliberately baiting her. On the other hand, she needed his cooperation.

“We don’t have time for games, Mr. Monroe. I’m a private investigator. Lester Boyington knows his wife came here to meet you. He found your e-mail about Heartskeep.”

Watching him closely, she saw his jaw harden as his body tensed.

“If he gets to her,” she added firmly, “he’ll kill her.”

He tossed the uneaten cookie to Lucky who snapped it out of the air and waited hopefully for more.

The man didn’t look at the animal. His gaze remained fastened on hers. It took real effort not to squirm under that steady stare.

“And you know this because…?”

Anger made her snap at him. “Because I broke into their house early this morning and found your e-mail on their computer. I half hoped it was a false trail she’d laid for Lester to follow. But it wasn’t, was it?”

“You broke into their house?”

She shouldn’t have told him that, yet it didn’t seem to shock him. He probably figured investigators did things like that every day. Still, she picked her next words with more care.

“I’d been watching the house since dawn. When I was certain Lester wasn’t inside, I went in to get them out but they were already gone. Valerie had left the computer on—or someone had. Your message was on the screen.”

R.J. swore. His expression was angry enough to send her hand toward her waistband.

“Why were you trying to get them out?”

“Because Lester Boyington is dangerous.”

He studied her expression as if trying to read her mind.

“Who are you, Teri?”

Her eyes flicked away from his gaze afraid he’d see the lie. “I told you, I’m a private investigator. My name’s Teri Johnson.”

“Let me see your license.”

She set her jaw. “It’s in my purse and as you’ve already seen, that’s in the car.”

“Who are you working for?”

She was on safer ground now. “That’s privileged information.”

“Consider me privileged, then.”

“I don’t think so.”

He seemed to grow larger and even more menacing as he straightened in his chair. She’d already seen the strength of those work-hardened muscles and once again she was conscious of how isolated they were in this old farmhouse. Not to mention how unprepared she was to deal with a man like this. She couldn’t afford to show a single sign of weakness.

“Where’s Valerie?” she forced herself to demand once more.

The expression that flitted across his features came and went too fast for her to categorize. His eyes narrowed.

“Do you know Valerie?”

She hesitated. “I know she’s in danger. I need to get to her.”

She should have said yes. What was one more lie? He considered her for a long, lingering moment.

“Valerie told me she had no one else to turn to. Yet you claim you came to rescue her.”

Teri clamped her mouth shut. What could she say unless she told him the truth?

“How do I know you aren’t working for her husband?”

“Never!”

He seemed momentarily startled by her vehemence.

“So you don’t know Valerie, but you do know her husband.”

Dark anger stirred. Her stomach clenched. She didn’t lower her gaze. She willed him to listen and believe.

“I know that men who get off on hurting women, children or animals should be tortured, castrated and imprisoned for the rest of their natural lives.”

R.J. blinked and sat back. His brow furrowed as he studied her.

“Tell me where Valerie is,” she pressed.

He scowled while his jaw clenched with some dark emotion. “I wish I knew.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Valerie disappeared from Heartskeep sometime last night.”

Teri closed her eyes as defeat washed over her. She was too late. Again. Bleakly she opened her eyes and regarded him.

“Lester got to them?”

“We don’t know what happened.” His voice roughened. “The police found her cell phone crushed behind the house near the fountain. Her car, all her belongings, everything was still there, except her.”

Her heart pounded faster. “What about Corey?”

To her surprise, R.J.’s features gentled. “The boy’s fine. Valerie left everything behind, including her son.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to protest that Valerie wasn’t Corey’s mother. She stopped the words in time, but it rankled all the same. Still, Lester hadn’t gotten Corey.

The jolt of hope was tempered by questions. “Why would Lester take Valerie and not Corey?”

Could Valerie still be alive?

“We don’t know that anyone did take her. It’s possible she left on her own.”

“Right. After crushing her cell phone.”

To her surprise, a hint of embarrassed color washed his face.

“It’s possible.”

Anything was possible. Maybe Teri hadn’t been too late after all. Maybe Valerie had sought asylum at Heartskeep in order to leave Corey behind so she could continue to run unhampered by a young child. She could have crushed the cell phone herself in an effort to point the police in Lester’s direction.

Staring at his troubled expression, Teri decided R.J. didn’t have the answers she needed.

“This Heartskeep place is a woman’s shelter, right?”

He nodded.

“Can you take me there?” If he noticed the edge of demand in her voice, it didn’t seem to bother him.

“At the moment? No.”

“In the morning, then.” But she let her dissatisfaction show.

“Valerie is gone, Teri.”

But Corey wasn’t. “She may come back.”

“For Corey,” he agreed. “I can’t see her leaving her son behind.”

She swallowed a retort. “Doesn’t Heartskeep have safety precautions in place to protect the women?”

“Of course it does. For one thing, there’s a high fence around the perimeter of the estate.”

She snorted. “Fences can be climbed.”

“Not this one. And the house is wired with an alarm system.”

She dismissed the alarm with a wave of her hand. “No cameras? No guard dogs?”

“It’s a woman’s shelter, not a prison.”

“Well, someone must have seen something.”

“The police have questioned everyone.” He rubbed his jaw in frustration. “No one knows what happened. Valerie simply disappeared sometime after she went to her room last night. We spent most of the day searching the grounds. Heartskeep has umpteen acres of ground to cover and a lot of it is wooded. Despite that, there should have been some sign somewhere if she didn’t leave under her own power, and there wasn’t. Except for the cell phone.”

Wearily, Teri leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes. He could be lying, but she didn’t think he was.

“It doesn’t make sense.”

“Tell me about it,” he agreed.

When she opened her eyes again, he was studying her with a masculine expression that made her distinctly uneasy. Self-consciously, she pushed at a strand of hair slipping out from under the towel.

“Have they asked her husband what happened?”

“They have to find him first.”

“He’s…not at home?” she corrected, changing the tone to make it a question.

“Not according to the police in Maryland.”

Her fingernails tapped restlessly against the steaming mug. Reflected firelight flickered across his features. His dark good looks stopped short of being to-die-for handsome, but R.J. projected an aura of self-confidence that would be irresistible to most women.

Teri scowled at him. “Will you please take me to Heartskeep?”

He picked up his mug and took a long swallow of the rapidly cooling chocolate. “Why?”

“So I can talk to the people who were there last night.”

“You don’t need me for that. All you have to do is go and ring the buzzer.”

“But you know them. You could introduce me.”

He set his mug down and regarded her with dark blue eyes that didn’t seem to miss much. “I could, but I don’t know you, do I?”

The towel slipped to one side. Thankful to have an outlet for her jumpy nerves, Teri released it and began to briskly rub the terry cloth over her wet hair. Exhaustion threatened to overtake her at any moment. The snapping heat of the fire and the calming warmth of the hot chocolate were conspiring against the need that had driven her this far. She was fading fast and she knew it.

“Why did you come here, Teri? Why didn’t you go to the police and enlist their help instead of coming to me?”

She hoped he didn’t see her flinch. She knew exactly how much help she’d get from the authorities if she told them who she really was. She thought about her sister lying in that hospital bed in a deep coma from which she might never awaken and set her jaw.

If Lester even had a suspicion that she and her sister were still alive, he wouldn’t rest until he finished what he’d started, and no one would be able to stop him.

A gust of wind shook the house, rattling windows. Abruptly, R.J. set his cup down and stood. Her gaze flashed to his face.

“I’m going to assume we’re on the same side for now, Teri, but I’ve been up since four-thirty this morning and tomorrow promises to be another bad day. I have to be up again in a few hours, so let me have your gun and you can spend the night.”

She straightened, coming wide awake. “Not a chance.”

“This isn’t negotiable.”

“Forget it.”

“How do I know you won’t shoot me in my sleep?”

“How do I know you won’t attack me in mine?” she fired back.

“I’d say a little trust is called for here.”

“Yeah? How little?”

Maybe if she hadn’t been so tired she would have been quicker. Then again, probably not. R.J. was incredibly fast. He was across the room in the blink of an eye with her wrists pinned before she could move. Using his weight and strength, he pushed her down into the back of the couch.