The Stranger Page 11

  She gulped so loudly that I actually heard it. I felt like a goddamn terrorist, but I was on a mission. “Stay at the house.”

  “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

  “You wouldn’t be.”

  “Maybe—if I decided to stay with you—could I pay for my stay?”

  She was as proud and stubborn as they came. So was I.

  “That’s a negative,” I said, “as in absolutely not necessary.”

  “I’m no freeloader,” she said. “Maybe I can pay you some other way?”

  She wouldn’t appreciate the only kind of currency I craved.

  “How about if I take over food duty while I’m here?” she said. “That refrigerator of yours is pretty sad. I could liven it up. My treat?”

  “That might work.” She wouldn’t agree otherwise and she was correct, my refrigerator was a wasteland. “I’m all for food.”

  “We’ll need to stop by the store.”

  “Here.” I opened a text message and handed my cell over. “Type what you need and it’ll be there when we get back.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’ve got minions, I get it. It’s impressive, but it defeats the purpose if you’re paying for the groceries.”

  “Just type the damn list,” I said. “Labor is the most expensive part of production and if it’s that important to you, we’ll figure it out later.”

  She hesitated, still wary. “Are you sure?”

  “A hundred percent sure.”

  She took a deep breath, typed the list with nimble fingers then returned the cell to me. “There.”

  I let out the breath I’d been holding. Persuasion was the better course of action and even though my plan was also self-serving, this was the only way I could think to keep Summer safe in Alaska. But it wasn’t easy. If I really wanted her trust, I was going to have to try harder. I ignored the warnings about texting and driving and, thumbing the screen, added another item to the list before I pressed the send button and put the cell away.

  “I have some ideas on how to look for Tammy,” Summer said. “I compiled a list of hotels, motels, bed and breakfasts, and campgrounds in Alaska. I can start with Katmai and Kenai. Maybe someone, somewhere has seen Tammy and Nikolai.”

  Time-consuming. I liked it. “It’s not a bad idea.”

  “It’s better than sitting on my bum waiting for them to turn up.”

  “I might be able to help,” I said. “We’re well connected. I’ll put out some feelers. Staying at the house, you’ll be in place for a quick intercept.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled. “You’re turning out to be a real godsend.”

  Even though it was a little crooked, with a smile like that, she might as well have given me the Nobel Peace Prize. The thrill of seeing that smile superseded my guilty conscience. What the fuck. Being a godsend to anyone felt good enough. Being a godsend to her? Spectacular.

  I smiled and headed home. Best I’d felt in years.

  Chapter Eight

  I sent my first hundred emails in a batch, along with a flyer that included Tammy’s picture and my contact information. By God, I was going to find my sister and soon. I got up from the lounge chair and stretched my weary bones. After my excursion to Anya’s, my interview with the state troopers, another long-distance scolding from my furious boss, and a quiet dinner with Seth that proved I was especially vulnerable to him, I was more determined than ever to get out of Alaska as fast as humanly possible.

  A loud rattle startled me of my thoughts. The house echoed with a mechanical rumble. I followed the sound to the bedroom, where I found Seth, holding a fierce-looking drill as if it was an assault weapon. He was fully invested in attacking the doorframe.

  “What are you doing?” With a tool belt hanging low on his waist and that long-sleeve T-shirt showing off his arms’ defined shape, his handyman sex appeal rippled through me until every cell in my body was volunteering for a home-improvement project.

  “Almost done,” he mumbled, taking out the screw he held in his mouth and tucking it in his pocket before taking a step back to assess his work.

  I recognized the implement he was installing as the most formidable door chain I’d ever seen. He was installing a door chain. For me? It was almost incomprehensible and perhaps because of that, I kept going back to the notion that he looked really hot tonight.

  “Summer?” he said. “Are you listening to me?”

  I forced myself to pay attention. “Sure, yes.”

  “What do you think?”

  I examined the stationary bit on the wall and ran my fingers over the track attached to the door, an impressive metal device that clashed with the door’s polished wood. “Looks...brawny?”

  “Hell yeah, brawny is right.” He drilled the last screw to secure the frame. “Commercial-grade parts, reinforced steel, extra-long screws, highest-rated commercial door chain available on the market. This baby isn’t budging.”

  Wow. “Where did you get that thing?”

  “I had it flown in from Anchorage along with your grocery list.”

  “You do know that I’m not The Hulk, right?” I said. “I don’t rip out doors or crash through wood in my sleep. The only reason the door chain works is because I can’t seem to muster the fine motor skills necessary to disengage the chain.”

  “That’s why I stuck with a door chain.” He closed the door and tested his newly installed contraption. “Otherwise, I might have selected a more efficient locking mechanism.”

  “You really don’t have to do this. It’ll spoil your nice door and...” Why did it pain me to admit the truth aloud? “I’m not staying for long.”

  The look he gave me curled my toes. How could he do that with his eyes? His stare challenged me to walk out of his house and his life right that minute. I should’ve taken the dare, but my feet wouldn’t obey me.

  “While you’re here,” he said, “I want you to feel safe.”

  Why was my heart racing like off-beat drum? “Thanks, I guess.”

  His thoughtfulness contributed to the global warming taking place inside of me. I was beginning to see past the grouch I’d first met on that stretch of desolate road. It was hard not to. After all, he’d sheltered me from the storm, driven me to Anya’s, inserted himself between me and a charging bear, and invited me to stay in his house so that I could look for my sister.

  If all of that wasn’t impressive, he was now installing a door chain for me. It was sweet, admittedly, in an odd and slightly creepy way. But yeah, that was me, odd and slightly creepy on account of my sleeping disorder and really turned on by a guy installing a door chain for me.

  Get your act together, Silva.

  A belated thought hit me. “If I’m sleeping in your bedroom, where will you sleep?”

  “I’ll be fine on the couch.”

  “I don’t want to boot you out of your bed.”

  “Don’t sweat it.” Seth took his drill apart and tucked the parts away in the case’s foam panels. “By the way, Spider, my chief of cyber security, had a hit on a security camera outside the rest station.”

  “Oh?” My belly flopped, even though I was sure this was all a mistake.

  “Take a look and tell me if you recognize this guy.”

  He picked up his tablet from the dresser and clicked on a clip. It showed a black-clad figure wearing a hoodie, kneeling next to my rental and going at the brake lines. I shook my head. I’d never seen him before, but the bile rose to my throat. My mind simply couldn’t accept what I was seeing.

  “Hey, it’s okay.” Seth gave my shoulder a little squeeze. “You’re safe and Spider forwarded the clip to the state troopers who interviewed you earlier today. If he’s local, we’ll know soon enough. Wait until I get my hands on that son of a bitch.”

  I don’t kn
ow what shocked me most, what I saw on the clip or that Seth had gone to such great trouble to locate it and find the culprit.

  He set the tablet aside. “Can I ask you a couple of questions?”

  “Um...” The least I could do was answer his questions. “Sure.”

  “Do you know where your ex, Sergio De Havilland, is?”

  My stomach churned at the name. “We don’t talk about him.” I modulated my voice, trying not to sound hysterical. “Remember?”

  “What if he has something to do with what happened?”

  “He doesn’t.” He wouldn’t want to face the consequences if something happened to me.

  “You seem so sure of that.”

  “I am,” I said with as much equanimity as I could muster. “For all I care he’s dead. Don’t ever ask me about him again. Got that?”

  “Okay,” Seth said, but something about the glimmer in his eyes told me he wasn’t ready to completely drop the subject. “Let’s talk about Louise instead.” He took off his tool belt, setting my cells abuzz in the process. “How did she end up married to your father?”

  I didn’t process a word he said because at the moment, all I could think about was what would happen if, after taking off the tool belt, Seth stripped off his pants too.

  “Earth to Summer.” His tawny eyes fixed on me. “Are you listening?”

  “Huh?” Where had my mind gone? “Sorry. What were we talking about?”

  “Your stepmother.”

  “Louise?” I tugged on my sweater’s neck to let in some cool air. “Why do you want to know about her?”

  “Just humor me, please?”

  “Okay.” I let out a resigned sigh—more likely a burst of steam, given the heat in me. Dammit, this wasn’t like me at all. I hadn’t had a crush on anyone in...years.

  I fanned my face and made an effort to string the words together. “After my mom died, Dad became sick with cancer. He beat it the first time around, but he worried I was going to be alone if he died. So he met Louise, a widow with a daughter a couple of years younger than I was, who lived in our building. Louise fell head over heels in love with him. My dad liked her too, but I think he married her because he wanted me to have a family before he left this earth.”

  “Family isn’t always a gift,” he muttered.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing.” He packed his remaining tools in an impressive-looking box. “How old were you when your dad and Louise got married?”

  “Fourteen,” I said. “Tammy had just turned eleven. Louise was good to me growing up. She was great to my dad.”

  “From afar, she seems a little...odd?”

  “Odd?” I shrugged. “Louise has issues, don’t we all? But my dad picked her, so I take care of them now that he’s gone, because that’s what families do, take care of each other.”

  “That’s what some families do,” he mumbled, frowning distractedly as he organized the tools in his box. “Others bicker about money until the cows come home.”

  “It really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

  His head snapped up. “What?”

  “The problems you’re having with your family.”

  “We’re getting off track.” He closed the toolbox. “Back to your family. Are you sure there isn’t an inheritance that might go to Louise if you’re not around?”

  “I’ve already told you: no inheritance. My father was practically ruined when he died. He lost all of his money on the Fountain Way project. His partner had to pay for his funeral. Why are you asking about Louise?”

  “We need to look at everyone objectively.”

  “And she doesn’t look very good to you.” I crossed my arms and glared at him. “You found out about her spending problem. Her private spending problem. Am I right?”

  “People do strange things because of money.”

  “I’m telling you, right now.” I dug my nails into my palms. “Louise has her problems. She’s loud, smokes like a chimney, drinks a little too much, and likes to play cards. But you’ve got to believe me: she loves me. She wouldn’t wish me harm.”

  “I didn’t mean to—”

  “I don’t like it when anyone meddles with the people I love,” I spat out, unable to contain the fury flaring in me. “Back off. Leave Louise alone.”

  “Look, I admire your defense of your family, I really do but...”

  “But what?”

  “Blind faith is not going to help us find whoever tried to kill you.”

  “I already told you,” I said. “That wasn’t about me and it certainly wasn’t about Louise or Tammy.”

  “But—”

  “Stop it.” I stomped to the door and held it open for him. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Can you leave it alone?”

  “For now,” he said with the kind of aplomb that drove me insane. He heaved the tool belt over his shoulder, grabbed the drill case and the toolbox, and made for the door. “Sleep tight, Summer. I’ll be on the couch if you need me.”

  * * *

  I woke up gradually, like a swimmer emerging from the ocean, satisfied, refreshed, restored. The soft, thousand-thread count sheets caressed my skin and rustled quietly against my ear. Had I slept through the night?

  I looked at the door. The door chain was in place. The room seemed undisturbed. I sat up and examined the floor. My God. There were no footprints on the talc I’d sprinkled on the carpet around the bed, which meant that, despite the stress of the last couple of days, I hadn’t walked in my sleep last night. It was a happy, hopeful milestone for me, one that could only be explained by the realization that blew my mind: I felt safe here. Four thousand miles away from home with a guy sleeping on the couch just outside my door.

  I splayed my hand over my thumping chest. Be still my little heart. My subconscious must have known things that my conscious mind didn’t, because my mind urged me to get out of bed, find my sister and run.

  I grabbed my laptop and checked my email to see if I had any news on Tammy’s whereabouts. Nothing. I had no new replies to my inquiries. I’d follow up with phone calls today. I’d placed quite a few of those yesterday. Alaskans weren’t particularly forthcoming with information. However, when I told them the whole story about my crazy sister who ran away with a guy she met on the internet, I usually got some sort of a reaction, even if it included sniggers and scoffs.

  Time to face the day. And the guy outside. My pulse fluttered when I thought of him, but I marched myself to the bathroom and washed my face, resolved to put an end to my foolishness. I confronted my image in the mirror. No crushes allowed. So what if he was cute? So what if he was sexy, smart, and perhaps even insightful beyond the bluster?

  I was no hormone-crazed adolescent. I was a grown woman with a good head on my shoulders. My attraction to him had to be a fluke or maybe a trick of my sex-starved body, unleashed by the accidental sexual encounter, a reaction to my self-imposed years of celibacy?

  Yes, it made total sense. I brushed my teeth until my gums hurt. It was the sex muddling my mind. It didn’t help that the architect in me found so many qualities about him intriguing. Like for example, the fact that he was always the master of his space. Outdoors, indoors, wherever he stood, his presence was commanding. I liked his vision, his point of view, the fresh perspective he applied to everything he did. The glimpses I’d gotten into his mind insinuated an intricate, tantalizing design. As to his body’s blueprint, I found myself eager to inspect it in detail.

  Oh, crap. There it was again. Those sudden surges of lust were getting exhausting. All I had to do was impose a little bodily discipline and I’d be fine. I let out a long breath. Easier said than done.

  I put up my hair in a messy ponytail and marched out the door. Seth was busy in the kitchen, dressed in
a pair of thermal jogging pants that highlighted the better parts of him. I couldn’t help it. My heart drummed when he smiled at me, an honest grin that lit his eyes like a Miami dawn.

  “Good morning.” He held up a steaming mug. “I heard you moving in there.”

  “Is that...?”

  “One café-con-leche for the lady.” He delivered it directly into my hands.

  I brought the mug to my lips and tasted heaven. “Hmm. You make the best café-con-leche in the world.”

  His grin widened. “A guy has to have some talents.”

  And a girl could get used to waking up to that smile every day.

  He pointed to a little pile of clothes on the counter. “Time to get going.”

  “Going where?”

  “Dr. Sanchez said that exercise is vital to curb stress.” He finished the last of his coffee and put the mug in the dishwater. “So giddy up, dream chaser. We’re going to chase all right. Nature is a healing agent and exercise is the best way to manage stress. We’re going for a run.”

  “A run?” I glanced out the windows. “But...it’s freezing out there!”

  “It’s not so bad,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  He wasn’t going to take no for an answer, so I downed my coffee, got dressed, and donned a jacket. Seth, of course, was perfectly fine with only a thin running fleece. We stepped out into the brain-startling cold, trudging through the layers of fog blowing in from the ocean. The air smelled like frozen seaweed. It was already eight in the morning, but the sun was only now beginning to rise, imbuing the day with a weak promise of light.

  Seth’s running trail went around the island, enlivened with the occasional obstacle course. I traipsed after him at minimal jogging velocity, not so much because I wanted a high-impact workout, but rather running away from the cold chasing after my bones. My feet crunched on a frozen crust of dew, but with every step, my mind cleared. The day felt new to my senses. I smiled when I spotted a seal frolicking in the sound. Seth was right. The outdoors was good for the soul.