Perilous Refuge. Kathleen Tailer

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      She glanced out the window as the plane took another dip. Alex saw her start to shake and took her hand again. He waited a moment for her to relax a bit before pushing forward. “So, why did your family move to the United States?”

      “I’ve told you about me,” she whispered, not meeting his eyes. “Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?”

      His brows pulled together. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a very exciting story to tell. I’m certainly not a world traveler like you. I’m the oldest of three boys and have lived in Tallahassee all of my life. I spend most of my time working at my law firm with one of my brothers. My father was an attorney and he passed the business down to us. Miss Abigail has been with us since the beginning, and is one of my mother’s closest friends. I am fiercely devoted to protecting her interests.” His tone was businesslike yet filled with a subtle threat.

      Chelsea tightened the blanket around herself. “I can understand why. Miss Abigail is a wonderful person. I know I haven’t known her nearly as long as you have, of course, but I also have come to care for her a great deal.”

      “I’m glad,” he said softly, searching her eyes for any hint of deception. “How long have you been living in Tallahassee?”

      Chelsea swallowed and squeezed the blanket nervously. “About a month.” She paused. “Can you let me by please? The turbulence seems to have passed and I need to go to the ladies’ room.”

      Alex saw the withdrawal in her eyes and backed down. She was obviously hiding something, but there was no need to push for all the answers right now. With a little patience and some help from the private investigator he’d hired back in Tallahassee to research her background, he would know everything he needed to know about Chelsea Rogers in a day or two.

      He stood to let her pass and glanced around at the other passengers as he did so. Miss Abigail had woken up and was doing a crossword puzzle. The lady in the seat next to her was typing furiously on a laptop and gently swaying to some music she was listening to on her headphones. Everyone else around them was dozing or watching the in-flight movie with headphones of their own.

      He heard a noise behind him and noticed the man from the airport—the one with the Braves baseball cap who had made that strange phone call about a package. He was getting a bag out of the overhead bin. He wasn’t a first-class passenger, but must have had to store his belongings in the first-class section due to the lack of space in the rear of the plane. The man glanced at him and nodded, then returned to rummaging around in the bag. He watched the man return to the coach seats, then sat down again and waited for Chelsea to return.

      * * *

      Chelsea paced back and forth in the small galley of the plane, glad to have a short reprieve from the attorney’s prying questions. She didn’t know why he was pushing so hard to discover her past, but discussing her history could never happen again in any context. Justin Carver was a powerful man with a very long reach. If she wanted to stay alive, she had to keep her secrets at all costs.

      Chelsea took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She tried to think of something pleasant that would take her mind off the flight and the gruff attorney, but instead her head filled with images of her recent past.

      The past month had been the worst of her entire life. She had been happy in Chicago. She had felt needed and fulfilled between her work and her ministries at her small Christian church. She’d lost everything that fateful day Roderick Carver died.

      After the murder she had barely escaped the grounds undetected. Once away from the office building, she had been too scared to even return to her apartment. Instead she had emptied her savings account and completely abandoned her life in Chicago. The newspapers had reported Carver’s death as a suicide; that he had killed himself after becoming despondent over large investment losses.

      Chelsea Rogers was the only one not on Justin Carver’s payroll who knew the truth about the murder. It was that knowledge that would keep her from ever leading a normal life again.

      Chelsea bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath. Two days. If the business manager from Southside Renovations could actually give her the documents he had promised and they contained what she hoped, then all of this fear and running could be over within two short days.

      Her ruminations made her hands start shaking and she quickly moved them out of sight as she returned to her seat. She glanced furtively at the tall attorney, thankful that he was engrossed in the document he was studying and not paying any attention to her. These days, it was hard not to be constantly looking over her shoulder, wondering who would be a threat. Mr. Sullivan didn’t seem threatening exactly, but he would never win an award for Mr. Congeniality.

      She reached for her purse that was stowed under the seat in front of her and began rummaging for her gum. The crisp white envelope didn’t catch her attention immediately, but she raised an eyebrow when she noticed it and pulled it out of her purse. There was no writing on the outside, but it was sealed and she could tell it had a letter or some sort of paper inside. Where had this come from? She didn’t recognize it at all. A sliver of fear went down her spine as she carefully tore open the envelope and removed the single sheet of paper.

      I found you and now I’m never going to let you go.

      Chelsea’s hands started trembling as she dropped the note back into her purse as if it were on fire. Where had this note come from? When? How had it gotten into her purse? She sank against the window as the fear consumed her. Was it from the man with the Braves cap at the airport? She thought she’d noticed him watching her, but when he hadn’t said anything, she’d assumed she’d just been paranoid again. Had he slipped the note in her bag when he’d brushed past her earlier? Did the note mean that Carver had found her? If so, how? She thought she had been so careful to cover her tracks, but apparently, at some stage, she had made a grievous error.

      She picked up the note again and studied it carefully, hoping she would see something that would reveal its origin. “I found you...”

      She wadded it up as nausea made her stomach heave.

      “Are you okay?” Alex asked from beside her, startling her. “Do you need an airsick bag?”

      Chelsea shook her head quickly, aware that her situation had just gotten even more precarious. She’d forgotten that the attorney watched her every move. She didn’t think he had actually seen the words on the note, but he’d certainly seen her reaction and now would be even more suspicious of her. She quickly zipped up her purse with the crumpled note inside and held it close to her chest, then tried to hide her shaking hands under the blanket.

      Somehow, Carver had found her. Now there was only one question remaining. How long would he let her live?

       THREE

      Alex put his legal pad down and paced around the hotel room as he mentally went over his to-do list. His first priority was to contact his private detective in Tallahassee to see what he had been able to find out about Chelsea. Then he needed to convince Miss Abigail to sign the original trust documents and discard the version benefitting Chelsea. After that, he’d just need to make his plane reservations to fly back to Tallahassee.

      He checked his watch, surprised at how much time had already passed since he had gotten up this morning. They had been in Maui less than twenty-four hours and the jet lag had slowed him down a bit. He pulled a number out СКАЧАТЬ