Solving the Mysterious Stranger. Mallory Kane

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      Then suddenly she went down. Her fancy boots were her undoing, just as he’d predicted.

      He caught up to her in no time. She lay in an awkward heap on a jutting rock, her eyes glittering like gold nuggets—or hot coals.

      Cole examined the line of her body. Was she hurt? Or was she feigning? At this point, he wouldn’t put anything past her.

      Then he saw it. The long skinny heel of her boot appeared caught under a rock.

      “I knew I should have brought my purse. I carry a gun. I could have shot you.”

      “No purse? Then what’s this?” he asked, picking up the metal case she kept dropping when she fell.

      “Give me that.”

      He examined it. “What is it?”

      “Nothing you’d be interested in.”

      He flipped the clasp and opened it. “Makeup?”

      “Stage makeup. Some of the performers used it.”

      “The fortune-tellers.” He thought about the boat calendar and her perfect 1940s makeup and hair. “You’re an actress?”

      “None of your business. May I have my case?”

      He handed her the case.

      She kicked him.

      “Ow! Damn it!” Her spiked heel made a big dent in his forearm. She jabbed at him again. He grabbed her foot. “Stop!”

      “Oh! You’re breaking my ankle.”

      “Yeah. Right.” He was barely touching her, but he held his hands up, palms out. “Get up.”

      Amelia glared at the bully who had abducted her. She couldn’t let him know how terrified she was. When he’d grabbed her earlier, she’d seen the hastily disguised lust in his eyes.

      She’d always been capable of taking care of herself. Plus her father’s employees had always looked after her like family.

      But there was no one around to protect her now. This dangerous stranger had anticipated every move she’d made.

      Whatever he wanted to do to her, she’d be helpless against him.

      What an idiot she was, wearing these ridiculous thousand-dollar boots. She should have worn her hiking boots. Of course her plans for the evening hadn’t included being hauled up and down the cliff face by a ruffian.

      “Let’s go. I said, get up.” He held out his hand. It was a large hand, with short blunt fingernails. His palm was calloused—she’d felt its roughness against her neck.

      She lowered her gaze. If he looked into her eyes, he’d know she was planning something. She figured she had one last chance to get away.

      She took his hand and moved to stand, mentally rehearsing her rash, spur-of-the-moment plan. If she could surprise him and throw him off balance, she could escape and warn the town—of what exactly, she had no idea. But she knew that those pirate boats converging on the harbor boded ill for Raven’s Cliff.

      She feinted as if she’d lost her footing, then with all her might she swung the makeup case at his head.

      He stopped her so easily it was laughable. He wrenched the case from her hands.

      “Nice trick. Try it on someone your own size. I’ll hold on to this. I don’t care to be banged on the head with it. Now let’s go. We need to head up to your house now. You can walk or I can carry you. It’s your choice.”

      Amelia glared at him. Helplessness churned in her gut until she felt ill. She had no chance of escaping him. None.

      Whatever he wanted, he’d take.

      “What do you want from me if it’s not money?”

      He didn’t answer, just tilted his head back an inch and raked her body with his gaze.

      Amelia’s heart pounded in her ears as fear wrapped icy fingers around her heart. He was going to rape her, or kill her or both. Everyone in Raven’s Cliff was convinced the Seaside Strangler was dead. But what if this man—

      “Look. I’m not talking pocket change. I’ve got enough to set you up for life. I’ll give you whatever you want.” She sounded pathetic, but she didn’t care.

      Gone was her bravado, gone the self-assurance and determination that made her a good businesswoman.

      She did not want to die.

      The last of the fireworks exploded, lighting up the sky. The stranger’s head jerked.

      Instinctively, Amelia whirled and took off running. She got nowhere. He grabbed her belt loop and pulled her back.

      “I told you we’re going up the hill—one way or another. I guess it’s going to be another.” He turned her around and cupped his hand behind her ear.

      And that was all she knew.

      SOMEBODY WAS POUNDING on her forehead. She felt dizzy and disoriented, as if the world had flipped upside down.

      Her forehead bumped against a hard surface. She opened her eyes and squinted.

      The world wasn’t upside down. She was. She was hanging over the stranger’s shoulder like a duffel bag. The position squeezed her chest so she could hardly get a full breath.

      She squirmed.

      “Be still.” He moved his hand from her thighs to her bottom.

      “Put me down,” she whispered angrily as she squirmed some more, only to discover that the pressure of her breasts against his shoulder was causing them to tighten. The tingling awareness slid all the way through her.

      Fear, she told herself. That’s all it was. Only, the heat of his hand on her butt didn’t feel scary. It felt protective—and tingly.

      “Put me down! Now!” She pounded on his back with her fists and kicked, working to bury the toes of her boots in his flesh. Nothing fazed him, but she kept on anyhow.

      He doggedly trudged ahead. She heard his hard, steady breathing and felt the tense bands of his shoulder muscles under her breasts.

      Within seconds she was exhausted. Her limbs burned with effort. She was ready to cry. She’d never felt so helpless in her life. And yet she knew with dreaded certainty that this was only the beginning of what this stranger had in store for her.

      “I…don’t know what…you think you’re…doing but…you’re not going to…get away…with it.” It was a struggle just to breathe, let alone talk, with her chest bouncing on the ball of his shoulder.

      He didn’t answer.

      With a great effort, Amelia lifted her head, peering down СКАЧАТЬ