Deadly Intent

Where was Martin? Would he be back soon? Her eyes drifted to the seats behind the receptionists’ desk and the emergency call button that would bring the other security guard to the entry foyer. She started slowly easing behind the counter.

The soft light from the lamps gleamed in his straight blond hair as he whipped his head around to look at her. “No one else? What about Jessica Ortiz?”

“Jessica Ortiz?” Her heart rammed up her throat and pulsed just below her jaw.

His light eyes turned wary. “Yes. Where is she?”

At the morgue. Except she couldn’t tell him that. “Who are you?”

“I’m Jessica’s friend.” He had gone back to casting his gaze uneasily around the room.

Only a few more feet before she could hit the call button. “What’s your name?” Detective Carter was going to love her for discovering this lead. If he didn’t continue to hold her as the prime suspect.

The man suddenly moved around the receptionists’ desk—the other side, blocking the call button—to close in on her. “Look, Jessica’s not here, so where is she?”

The man had several inches on her, but it seemed like several feet. Pull yourself together. He had a light build. She could put up a good fight and she might even win, since she had so much upper body strength from giving massages.

Where was Martin? she wondered.

“Where is she?” The stranger grabbed her upper arm with slender but strong fingers.

She tried to yank away, but his fingers bit into her muscle. “Let go of me.”

“I need to find her. Where is she?”

“I, uh…I don’t know.” Which was true, she didn’t know where the morgue was.

“You’re lying to me.” The strange intensity of his eyes gripped her harder than his hand.

“I’m not.” She jerked hard to try to break his hold.

He only stepped closer toward her.

“My security guard is coming back any moment.” She hoped. “Let go of me.”

He suddenly did, and she stumbled backward.

He had an inscrutable look on his face. “Something has happened to her.” It wasn’t a question.

Her heart had begun to slow now that he’d released her. “Do you…do you want to leave a message for her?” It was a last-ditch effort—she had to find out who he was.

He looked straight into her eyes, then he bolted.

“Hey!”

It was only then that Devon noticed the dark figure passing through the double doors of the spa, running straight toward them.

The guard stepped forward and reached for his flashlight. “You there—!”

But the unknown man barreled into the guard, knocking the flashlight away. He pinballed toward Devon.

Devon grabbed the man by his torso. The stranger had a light build but solid muscle under his cotton shirt. Devon grunted as he tried to stop him from running away. The security guard attempted to capture a flailing arm.

The man knocked the back of his elbow into Devon’s throat, then smashed something into Devon’s hand. It cracked and sliced into him, and his hold loosened enough for the man to burst free. The guard tripped and fell to the ground as the man sprinted away.

Devon raced after him, but the blow to his throat made it hard to breathe. The man leaped into the convertible and it roared to life as Devon reached out to touch the hood. With a squeal of tires and the heavy scent of burning rubber, the man was gone.

Then he realized. Naomi had been in the spa alone.

“Hey!”

Naomi rounded the other corner of the receptionists’ desk the same time the stranger did. She ran at him, but he sidestepped and swung his arm wide, knocking her to the floor. Her elbow and chin hit the cold marble painfully.

Martin’s voice filtered through the slowly closing double doors. “You there—!” Thank goodness, maybe Martin would stop the guy. She hadn’t even gotten his name!

Naomi hauled open the spa’s double doors in time to hear an engine roar, then fade as the car drove away. Scanning past the rose trees, she lifted on tiptoe but couldn’t see the parking lot from the doorway, so she stepped outside. Then she saw Martin with Devon Knightley.

“What are you doing here? And what happened?” She opened the doors and walked back into the entrance foyer, although part of her wondered if it were safe, even with Martin there. After all, Devon was Jessica’s ex-husband and he’d shown up very conveniently this morning.

Then she realized that he was injured. He wasn’t dripping blood, but scarlet lanced across the back of his hand.

“Are you all right? Did that man get away?”

Martin nodded. “Sorry, Ms. Grant.”

“You didn’t see him when you walked Ms. Olson to her car?”

He shook his head. “He might have taken another pathway from the parking lot to the front door.”

Jared, the other security guard, then rushed into the entrance foyer. “Miss Grant, are you all right?”

“Where were you?” Martin demanded.

“I’m sorry, Miss Grant, I was doing the walk-through rounds of the labs, so I wasn’t in the security room to see that guy on the outside camera when he came in. When I got back to the room, I saw him when he ran out. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, but Devon…” She motioned him to follow her back into the therapy area. Each room had a first aid kit. “Let me get you something for that. Why are you here?”

“You have my cell phone.”

“I do?” Then she remembered dialing 911. She’d held the phone for him as he’d tried to…save Jessica. She must have slipped it into her pocket and then blindly thrown it on her desk before Penelope’s appointment. “It’s in my office. I have a first aid kit in there, too.”

She hesitated. Was that wise, taking this man into her office? A part of her said, You’re being silly, this is Devon Knightley. But the other part of her, the part that had recoiled at the sight of Jessica Ortiz bleeding on her massage room floor, told her, He’s her ex-husband, and he came in asking for her.

Martin’s eyes flickered over hers. “Ah…I’ll do the routine walk-through of the therapy rooms right now, just in case.”

Bless him. There was no “routine walk-through” of the therapy rooms—only the labs in the secure area in back—so Martin would be within shouting distance. “Jared, could you please call the police for me?”

“No problem, Miss Grant.”