She Can Hide (She Can #4)(87)

Zeus followed her outside.

Abby swayed. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to bed.”

Lorraine walked Abby to the guest room. “Are you sure you don’t need anything? Do you have your pain medicine?”

“I’m all set.” Abby was unaccustomed to having anyone fuss over her, but Lorraine’s concern gave her a warm spot in the middle of her chest.

“Good night then.” Lorraine closed the door on her way out.

Every inch of Abby’s body ached. She crawled into bed still dressed in the yoga pants and mangled sweatshirt she’d been wearing at the hospital.

It felt like she’d just closed her eyes when a noise startled her awake. Abby sat up. Even in the brightly lit room, it took a minute to orient herself.

Thump.

It was probably the cat. Abby sat up. Agony shattered her elbow. Her body was feverish-hot, her mouth dry as sand. A glance at the nightstand told her the pain meds had worn off. Doing her best not to jar her arm, she eased to her feet and walked gingerly to the door. The hallway and house beyond were dark. Abby felt for a light switch as she shuffled toward the kitchen. Where was it? Pain kept her nerves at bay, and frankly, she was too damned tired for her phobia to kick in.

Her hand swiped at the wall in the kitchen. The lights went on. A woman was standing in the middle of the room pointing a gun at Abby.





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

The dock creaked under Ryland’s feet. The dark water of the bay rippled white all the way across the sound. On either side, boats bobbed. Metal clanged, and the tails of carefully secured sails and lines snapped in the wind. The storm had passed, but the cold front that had pushed the weather system up the coast left an arctic howl in its wake. He turned back to watch the dockyard. The wind sheared through Ryland’s heavy overcoat with brute force.

Headlights swept across the pilings.

Paul was here. Had he come alone?

It had been their agreement, but Ryland knew from experience that promises didn’t mean much when dealing with the likes of Paul Medina. A large sedan parked in the shadows. Ryland’s vehicle was also parked far from the overhead lights. The darker the better.

Another gust shoved against his back, and he stiffened his spine against the push. Though Ryland hated the cold, a strong wind was his ally. He hadn’t chosen the dock by accident. In case Paul was looking to double-cross him and wearing a wire to their meeting, the sounds of wind and water would interfere with microphone reception, rendering a recording useless. Paul knew this as well and, with similar suspicions of Ryland, had agreed to the neutral meeting ground.

A dark figure emerged from the vehicle and walked toward him. A small orange glow bobbed with his steps. Coming to a stop a few feet from Ryland, Paul didn’t complain about the cold either. Instead of a two-way street, trust was a dead end in their relationship.

Paul nodded in greeting. He pulled his cigar from between his teeth. “Cigar?”

“No. Thank you.” Ryland was in no mood for social niceties.

Paul sensed his all-business inclination. “Have you given any further thought to my proposal? I have only your interests in mind.”

“Was it you? Did you try to kill her?” Ryland bit off the words. A fresh gust whipped off the bay and tugged at his coat.

“First of all, I don’t try to kill anyone.” Paul let the implication hang in the air. He tapped his cigar over the water. The ashes took flight, the glow blinking out seconds after they left the burning tip. “Secondly, I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

“My daughter.”

Paul’s eyes gave nothing away. “You have a daughter?”

“You didn’t know?” Ryland wished he could be on equal emotional footing in this conversation. But family was his one weakness, the only piece of his life he couldn’t compartmentalize, even the daughter he’d neglected all these years.

“As much as I would like to, I can’t know everything.” Damn Paul. Never gave a fucking straight answer. He’d never admit anything. Was he telling the truth? Was Abby’s existence really a surprise? Paul was a damned good liar. Men without consciences usually were. Ryland should know.

“None of us can,” Ryland said. “We make the best choices with the information at our disposal.”

Paul’s eyes flickered. “You’re sure you don’t want to reconsider your decision about the business? As I told you the last time we spoke, there are other parties upset by your actions. Perhaps one of them learned of your daughter’s existence. Threats to one’s family are so disturbing.”

“You’re right. Perhaps I should reconsider all my options.”

“That would be the best way to secure your family’s future.” Paul’s eyes gleamed with victory—and greed. Unlike the casino and entertainment industry, drug-running was impervious to economic downturns. “I’ll let the interested parties know. How soon will your decision be implemented?”

“Immediately.”

Paul nodded with enthusiasm. “You’ve made a wise decision, my friend.”

“We’re hardly friends.”

“Be that as it may, you can rest easier knowing your family is safe.” Paul turned and started down the dock.

Ryland drew his gun, put the barrel to the back of Paul’s head, and pulled the trigger twice. Paul collapsed and crumpled to the dock. He rolled to his side. His eyes were a blank slate. He hadn’t even had a chance to register his shock.