Death's Door

The rest of the small house was dark, the air only slightly cooler than it was outside thanks to the window air conditioner. She flicked the switch that lit the tiny lamp across the room. Suddenly the hair on her arms prickled. Something didn’t seem…right. She refused to allow the tidal pull of memories to interfere with rational thought. Her unease was just the residual effect of the past few hours, she decided. She was safe now. No one could link her to the job. But if she’d been caught in the act—

“Don’t go there,” she whispered to herself. The reward was worth the risk.

Feeling silly for being so jumpy, she walked into her bedroom. And stood still. Something slightly ominous seemed to hover in the air like an unseen ghost. She looked around at the drifts of clothes tossed over a chair and underwear slung onto the bed. She had the housekeeping habits of a frat boy. She really ought to make an effort to be neater, she thought, still battling her nerves.

What was giving her the willies?

It was ridiculous for a grown woman to be afraid, but she tiptoed over to the closet and put her hand on the knob. For a moment she merely stared at the door. Stop being an idiot, she told herself, and jerked open the closet.

Nothing. Just clothes haphazardly shoved into the small space. On the floor was a jumble of shoes and a few purses too large for the overhead rack. No one was hiding in here.

In the small bathroom off her bedroom, she ran a bath and filled the tub with magnolia-scented bubble bath, then lit lavender-infused candles, known for their calming fragrance. Even though she’d showered before she’d left, the adrenaline rush had left her sheathed in sweat that had since dried and made her skin itch. She peeled off the short shorts, tank top and underwear she’d worn beneath her dark clothes, then swung her leg over the side of the tub.

She had the unsettling sensation that someone was watching her. Of course, that was impossible. It was merely her mind playing tricks. She’d purchased new locks and dead bolts when she’d had the garage door opener replaced. This was a safe neighborhood, considering it was Miami. Still, you couldn’t be too careful. The others in the group believed they were under surveillance. It came with the territory. If the authorities were spying on her, they were outside the house, monitoring her comings and goings to build a court case. They were not hiding in the house.

The bathroom door was open. She pushed it and the door would have shut, except the tangled cord from her blow-dryer on the counter got in the way. Hadn’t she returned it to the drawer? Obviously, she’d been in such a rush to meet the others that she’d forgotten.

She eased into the tub and turned off the taps. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and let the warm water and fragrant air soothe her taut nerves. This was it, she told herself. The last job. From now on, she would lead a normal life. It might even be time to settle down, she silently admitted. That meant a steady, down-to-earth guy, not one of the club rats she usually met in South Beach.

A faint, muffled noise outside the bathroom made her eyes fly open. Her pinched throat kept air from entering her lungs and she trembled. Then she remembered the dog. Aspen. A great name for a honey-colored golden retriever. She’d given it to the dog even before she’d seen him. She had it put on the collar she’d bought. She’d chosen “Aspen” because when the leaves on Aspen trees changed color each fall, they were the same golden shades she associated with golden retrievers. Aspen wasn’t trying to get out of the kitchen, was he?

She kept listening, straining to hear another noise, but the only sound was the muted whir of the air conditioner in the living room. What was throwing her world out of whack? She’d never been this disturbed before, and the group had engaged in missions that had been just as dangerous as the one tonight.

Closing her eyes again, she settled back, allowing the warm water and the fragrant candles to do their magic. She was bone weary and soon almost nodded off. She forced her eyes open so she wouldn’t fall asleep in the tub.

Hadn’t the bathroom door been almost closed a few moments ago? She stared hard at its reflection in the mirror partially fogged by steam, then looked over her shoulder directly at the door. Her red robe hung from a hook on the back. Maybe the door wasn’t quite balanced and the weight of her robe had caused it to open several inches. What was going on? She was more jittery than she ought to be.

She settled back, closed her eyes once more and inhaled deeply to take the calming scent of the candles into her lungs. Her tense muscles relaxed and her mind almost purged itself of the sight of all those forlorn, pleading eyes riveted on her.

Almost.

Don’t drift off, she warned herself. She needed to scrub away the sweat, crawl into bed and set the alarm for seven-thirty. She struggled not to close her eyes, but gave in for just a moment.

A mechanical whir jerked her upright, the sound reverberating against the ceramic tile. Her eyes flashed across the short distance to the counter. Her blow-dryer was on. How had that happened? She grabbed the towel bar and heaved herself upright in one quick jerk. Instinct told her to get out of the tub NOW!

“Wh-what?” The serrated blade of fear shredded each syllable. The vapor from the candles scorched her throat as if she’d been suddenly transported to the desert. She attempted to make sense of what her eyes told her, but the dark glaze of panic blacked out the edges of her vision. Hot, white noise rumbled through her head, awakening a terror unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

A gloved hand appeared from behind the door and grabbed the blow-dryer off the counter. The next instant the dryer was hurtling through the air at her. It splashed into the bubble-filled water at her knees with a serpent’s lethal hiss and an eruption of sparks. Instantly, little popping sounds battered her skull like fireworks exploding in her brain.

CHAPTER ONE

Before becoming a world-famous photographer, what did Ansel Adams aspire to be?

MADISON CONNELLY STARED out the window from the largest enclosure in the cube farm at the shimmering waters of Biscayne Bay visible over the rooftops of nearby buildings. As copresident of Total Trivia, she was entitled to a large private office, but she and Aiden had agreed long ago that doors encouraged isolation. Togetherness inspired innovation—the healthy exchange of ideas that led to creativity.

Maybe, she thought, but right now she wished she could slam her office door shut and make the world go away. She was burned out by what her father would have called “premature success.” Her company was barely three years old and it was already being touted as a triumph. If only her personal life was as glorious.

Get a grip, Madison told herself. There’s no reason to feel sorry for yourself. Concentrate on what you’re doing and forget past mistakes.

Madison forced herself to stare at her computer screen as she waited for inspiration. The software program she’d invented culled obscure facts from numerous sources for their online game, but every so often she liked to throw in a zinger. Her favorite was “what if.” What if Ansel Adams had his wish? He would have become a concert pianist. Lucky for the world, he hadn’t.

If she’d had her wish, she would have pursued a doctorate and—

“Madison, there’s a man here to see you. How cool is that?”

She swiveled around in her chair to face Jade, Total Trivia’s receptionist. Short blue-black hair gelled up like a rooster’s comb and deep red lipstick combined with Cleopatra eyes gave the girl an unfashionable Goth look that was rarely seen in South Beach these days. Jade could easily have told Madison she had a visitor with the interoffice telephone, but the girl never lost an opportunity to sashay by the cluster of cubicles the programmers used, just as she never failed to add how “cool” something was, even when delivering bad news.

“Who is it? I’m not expecting anyone.”

Jade consulted a business card she held between bloodred nails that could have doubled as letter openers. “Paul Tanner. He’s with Tanner Security Solutions, Inc.”

Another geek trying to sell them software that was supposed to prevent other online trivia sites from hacking into their database. Online protection. What a joke.

“Tell him we take care of our own security.” She was about to give Jade another lecture on how to screen people, but she spotted Aiden Larsen coming toward her office.

“Hey, Madison,” her ex-husband called in his usual upbeat voice. “Got a minute?”

“Not really,” she fibbed as Jade ducked out of the cube and began to saunter down the aisle toward the reception area.

Aiden ignored Madison’s response and parked himself in the chair opposite her desk. She tried not to notice how handsome he looked. Chloe really knew how to make him dress in a way that emphasized his best features, his height and surfer blond hair.

The irony of the situation irritated her. Aiden would do anything for Chloe, but he’d stubbornly refused to make the smallest change for Madison. Instead, he’d insisted she be the one to alter her looks and life for him. He’d wanted her hair long and ruler-straight, even though it was naturally curly and at the mercy of Miami’s humidity. He’d wanted to go out to SoBe’s clubs almost every night. It was a scene she hated. Madison had resisted, of course, but it didn’t seem to matter now. Aiden was on a new path in life—Chloe’s course.

“Where’ve you been? I tried to get you all weekend.”

“Busy.” She didn’t want to tell Aiden she’d wasted another weekend searching for a place to lease. She couldn’t decide on anything, because each property she was shown made her think of the fabulous house in Coral Gables that she’d permitted Aiden to keep in the divorce. Retaining half the business they’d started together had been more important.

“You didn’t answer your cell.”

“I left it at Erin’s on Friday.”

The mention of her best friend’s name caused one blond eyebrow to quirk. Aiden’s brows were less scraggly than they had been on Friday, she noted. Over the weekend, Chloe must have convinced him to go to one of SoBe’s stylish spas for a professional wax.

Madison could see Aiden was biting back another negative comment about Erin. For an instant, Madison’s brain replayed something she’d heard on the morning news as she’d been getting ready for work. It made her think about Erin and wonder if her friend could have been involved in the incident.

“Why were you looking for me?” She knew it had to be important. Since their divorce they spoke only when necessary. So much for the “togetherness” they’d envisioned when starting the company. She struggled to keep her tone civil. Their last conversation had ended with Aiden accusing Madison of using her tongue like a whip.

“I had such a great idea that I wanted to run it by you immediately. That’s why I kept calling. Total Trivia needs a shot in the arm, right?”

“I guess,” she reluctantly conceded, although she knew he was correct. Advertising banner sales were level but she perceived a lack of momentum. On a per-week basis they weren’t drawing new gamers the way they once had. They were still raking in a bundle, but similar Web sites were invading the territory they’d once dominated.

“How’s this for an idea?” He rocked back in the chair opposite her desk and put his feet up on the rim, the way he used to when they’d been developing ideas for Total Trivia. “Add betting to our site.”

“We’ve been down this road before.” How could he waste her time with this? They’d known when they created Total Trivia that Internet gambling and auctions made boodles of money. They’d defied the odds by making money with a game that didn’t feature gambling.

He chuckled nonchalantly, but she knew better. Aiden handled the business end of their site. He could smell money the way a bloodhound picked up a fresh scent. “True. We have avoided gambling, but now Trivia Mania has added it to their site.”

“Interesting,” Madison hedged. Trivia Mania had been their chief rival before their competitor added gambling. She had no doubt gamers on Total Trivia would flock to a site where they could place bets. “Who’s handling their finances?”