A Wedding in Maine Page 5

  Rolling to my bare feet, I stepped over the pile of discarded envelopes and padded up to the window to push the blinds aside. I always closed them as soon as the sun went down. Even if Richard wasn’t out there plotting against me, someone was, and they didn’t need a good view of where I was and what I was doing. Out in the landscape of the property, shadows played with other shadows.

  I spotted a long-haired stray cat leaving tiny little paw prints in the snow. I had started putting food out for it the first time I saw it, but it never let me near enough to bring it inside. I’d decided to call it Bobby, since it could either be a girl or boy cat. Bobby was as hard to get close to as I was.

  Maybe that’s why I liked that furry creature.

  The old sycamore tree by the driveway bent and swayed in the wind and a hard pebble of ice hit the window. That’s when my phone rang. I jumped back, dropping the blinds, and pressed a hand to my racing heart. Shaking my head at myself, I crossed the room to my ringing phone and muttered, “You’re getting weak, O’Kane.”

  His name flashed across the screen, along with a picture of Jeremy kissing my cheek. I picked the phone up with trembling hands. Safety was something I’d come to prize over the years and Jeremy was my safe place. When he was with me, I knew I could always trust him to watch my back. We could protect each other.

  If that made me weak, then so be it. I’d be weak for him.

  “Thank God. Where are you? Are you almost home?”

  “No, I’m still in Bangor,” he said, his voice low. “I went out for dinner with my old supervisor and lost track of time. Are you doing okay down there?”

  I swallowed and forced a smile even though he couldn’t see me. He knew me well enough to see through my act if I didn’t give it my all. If he realized how freaked out I was, he would do everything in his power to get home, no matter how dangerous it would be. “Of course. I’ve been addressing wedding invitations, but my hand hurts, so I took a break. I’ve become quite the master at calligraphy, if I do say so myself. You should see the curves of my—”

  “I’m very well acquainted with your curves,” he cut in.

  A laugh escaped me. God, I loved him. “Jeremy.”

  “Sorry, you walked me right into that one,” he said, chuckling. “In all seriousness, though, I’m sorry I’m not there to help you.”

  “That’s okay, you have awful handwriting.” It was true. Jeremy’s handwriting was worse than doctor scribble. When we were kids, I used to be the only one who could read it. “Besides, you’re doing more important things. Find out anything?”

  “Not really. Is your dad a free man now?”

  I frowned. “I think so.”

  “Look, I just got back to my truck and the roads are pretty nasty up here. Do you mind if I spend the night chasing a lead? Then I can head home at dawn after the roads are plowed.”

  Chasing a lead. God, he sounded like such a cop when he said stuff like that. I fought an instinctive shiver. As an assistant DA in Miami, I’d spent a lot of time around law enforcement, but when I reclaimed the O’Kane last name, I guess I had fallen back into old habits. “I’ll be fine. You know me.”

  He hesitated. “Chels…”

  “I’m fine. I’ll keep working on these invitations and then I’ll crash. Wake me up with a kiss when you come home.” I smiled again. “Make it a good one.”

  “You know I will,” he promised. “Lock all the windows and doors.”

  “Psssh. Who you kidding? I did that hours ago.”

  He chuckled and the sound was impossibly sexy. I shivered for a different reason this time. “Of course you did. Love you, Chels.”

  “Love you, too.”

  We hung up, and I stared at the picture of us for a few seconds before I clicked my phone off with a huff. The hell if I was going to sit here moping because my man wasn’t home. That wasn’t me. I was strong and independent, and I could take care of myself with my trusty bat at my side. Another piece of ice hit the window. Rubbing the goose bumps off my arms, I resolved to get back to work on those invitations.

  I walked to the fireplace and bent down to grab another log.

  The second I did, I heard it.

  The telltale footboard creak you only ever read about in horror novels. Only this wasn’t a book. This was real life. Someone was behind me.

  I tried to spin with the log clutched in my hand, intending on using it as a weapon against an intruder, but the second I started to move, something closed over my mouth. It was suffocating me. I was pulled back against a hard chest, my movements trapped by my attacker’s arms. I fought wildly, but it was useless. My limbs went numb, like they weren’t there at all.

  The smell from the rag was noxious and burned through my sinuses as tendrils of black snaked over my field of vision. As the world blurred, I swore I saw my father’s old truck outside the window. The last thing I heard was the sound of the log of wood hitting the floor as it fell, and a whisper.

  “Sleep tight, darling.”

  Chapter 12

  In the movies, damsels in distress always wake up looking impossibly fragile or delicate, gazing around blurrily until someone fills them in on what they missed. Not me. No, I roused to consciousness with a loud, “Son of a bitch!”

  I probably would’ve been throwing punches, too, if I hadn’t woken up before the rest of my body did. While I waited for the feeling to return to my extremities, I blinked up at the white ceiling. My head was aching like there was a tiny man banging on the inside of my skull with a hammer, and my mouth tasted gross.

  The fire had died down, so I had clearly been out for a while.

  The blurry face of my father leaned over me, and I stiffened. “Son of a bitch!” I said again, just in case the universe didn’t realize how pissed off I was. I tried to swing at him, but my limbs didn’t cooperate. He’d drugged me. Actually drugged me.

  And the father of the year award goes to…

  His face went away, and I wondered if my foggy brain was hallucinating because I was desperate to make sense out of all this.

  Why would my dad be here?

  It made no sense.

  Groaning, I rolled over a little, testing my mobility since my brain was clearly not working. A rag lay next to me, and it looked so nasty that it was no surprise I felt like I’d licked a dirty sock.

  I looked down at my body. Thank goodness I was still clothed, and aside from some new bruises that were making themselves known, I was basically unharmed. Whatever my attacker wanted, it hadn’t been me.

  Surveying the communal living room, which I was using since we had no guests at the moment, I growled a little when I saw that the wedding invitations I’d so carefully addressed had been tossed on the floor like garbage. My new calligraphy pen lay broken, half hidden under the couch. Every cushion and pillow had been dumped on the ground, but from what I could tell from my position on the floor, the rest of the living room looked the same. I’d been knocked out, and then someone…what? Ransacked the inn? What could they possibly be looking for?

  Jeremy.

  I had to call Jeremy.

  When I tried to sit up, the world spun. I flopped back down and rubbed my forehead, blinking against the darkness that was trying to make an encore appearance. I’d take darkness over the image of my dad’s face any day. There was a creak of the front door, followed by the sound of footsteps rushing toward me. I immediately thought it was Jeremy, showing up on his white horse to rescue me again, but then I realized how stupid that was.

  Unless I’d been out for longer than I guessed, Jeremy wasn’t here. The DEA had some high-tech gadgets, but they hadn’t employed personal teleporters yet.

  “Jesus, Chelsea. It’s me. Are you okay?” Paul asked, his voice laced with worry. “Check the house. See if anyone is still here.”

  “Yeah, sure, I’ll get right on that,” I said, relief punching me in the gut. It might not be Jeremy kneeling beside me, but this was the next best thing. My big brother. Paul wouldn’t let any
thing else happen to me.

  But that was when I realized that he wasn’t telling me to check the house—he was telling someone else to, and since I’d seen my dad’s face when I came to…

  God, no. Not now. Not when I was weak.

  Paul frowned down at me. “I’m calling Doc Wilson.”

  Doc Wilson was your typical country doctor, who did everything from treat chicken pox to explain the facts of life to motherless preteen girls. He lived about a mile down the road and had a truck that could probably go off-roading on Mount Everest. Seeing as I was still dealing with the aftereffects of the drug and, to be honest, kinda wanted someone to tell me that everything would be okay, I let Paul call the doc without complaint.

  Then I heard footsteps again, and a blanket snapped out and was laid over me. The sudden warmth made me shiver, making me realize how cold I’d been. I glanced up…and there he was.

  Dad.

  Guess I hadn’t imagined him after all.

  His hair was grayer than I remembered, and he had more wrinkles on his face. How old was he now? Fifty-five? Sixty-five? God, I had no clue. Maybe that made me a bad daughter, but the truth was, he was lucky I’d even recognized him.

  He frowned down at me and his blue eyes narrowed. If he were any other man, I’d think the shadows in his eyes were formed by worry, but Johnny O’Kane could fake whatever emotion he needed to land his mark. It’s part of what made him such a good con man.

  Besides, Dad didn’t do the whole fatherly concern thing. He’d never been around long enough to show any type of concern at all, let alone be a father. “The front door was wide open, and since your man isn’t here, we checked to see if you were okay.”

  “I…no.” I closed my eyes, because I didn’t like anything about this situation. “Get out.”

  “I will.” He pressed his mouth into a thin line. “Once you can stand up and kick me out yourself. Until then, I’m staying right here to make sure you’re good.”

  He shouldn’t have issued a challenge. O’Kanes never backed down from a challenge and I wanted him gone. Now. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to sit up, ignoring the spinning room as I planted my palms on the cold wood floor and waited for things to settle down.

  Dad called to Paul, “Not paralyzed. Just drugged.” He grabbed the rag, sniffing it carefully and then immediately pulling it away from his nose. “Chloroform. Nasty shit.”

  I stiffened, because even fresh outta jail, Dad smelled the same. The few memories from my childhood rushed over me, but none of them were welcome. I mean, who could forget the first time I saw him arrested, which happened to be on my fourth birthday? Happy birthday to me.

  I rubbed my eyes, forcing my feet to root to the floor as I stood. “I’m up. Get out.”

  “Soon,” he said dismissively, ignoring me just like the good ol’ days.

  I stumbled to the couch. My phone lay on the floor a few steps away, and I stared at it longingly. Paul followed my line of vision, and handed it to me while he kept talking to the doc on his phone.

  Dad watched the hand-off, frowning, probably because Paul had done something kind. Dad didn’t believe in helping other people without getting something in return. “Who are you calling?”

  I didn’t answer, choosing to ignore him. He’d get the point soon enough, and then he’d leave. Just like he always did.

  Chapter 13

  I swiped my finger across the screen, still pretty shaky, but getting a little bit of strength back now that I was upright on my couch. It was a little after ten o’clock, so I’d been out for a good half hour…maybe less. My brain was still kind of hazy on all the details, but I was pretty sure I had hung up with Jeremy at nine thirty. Maybe. Possibly. Definitely.

  Behind me, Paul hung up. “Doc’ll be here in thirty minutes.” He sat down next to me, resting a hand on my knee. “Are you…did he…touch…?”

  “No. I’m fine.” I could tell what he was getting at, but I wanted to spare both of us that conversation, thank you very much. “He just knocked me out, and then ransacked the place, from what I can tell. I’m going to call Jeremy and fill him in.”

  Dad leaned on the wall, touching the spot where we’d plastered and painted over the bullet holes in the wall from last year’s drive-by. Apparently Dad knew a cleaned crime scene when he saw it. Big shocker there. “This wall got shot up, yeah? The patch job ain’t bad. Your man do it?”

  “Yes, Jeremy did it. He plastered most of the walls in this place because he knows how to fix things. He doesn’t just leave and let the broken pieces sit as they were.”

  “It was the landlord’s responsibility to fix those window screens, not mine.” Typical Dad, always passing the buck. “Raccoons getting in wasn’t my fault. ’Sides, not like they had rabies.”

  “Whatever.” I poked my screen, selecting Jeremy’s name. “I’d say it was nice seeing you, but that would be a lie. You’re not welcome here. Go home.”

  Paul sat uncharacteristically quiet next to me, frowning at Dad.

  Jeremy picked up on the second ring. “Hey, Chels. I changed my mind. I’m almost done here, and the snow looks like it’s letting up, so I’m going to hit the road—”

  “Someone broke in and knocked me out.” No point wasting time with small talk when there was something bigger at play. There were no more what ifs about this situation. Someone was after something. We just had to figure out who…and what. “Paul…and my dad…are here. They saw the inn’s front door wide open so they came to check on me.”

  He let out a long string of curses that would make a nun blush. “I’m coming. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

  “Just my pride,” I mumbled, avoiding both Paul and Dad’s eyes. “And they broke my calligraphy pen.” I knew it was stupid, but I liked that pen.

  Dad frowned. “Calligraphy what?”

  “Wedding shit,” Paul answered, his voice gruff.

  Over the phone, I heard Jeremy’s car door bang. “With any luck I can be home in an hour or so. Can you ask Paul to stay with you till I get there?”

  I pressed my lips together. Let one guy with a dirty rag take you down, and suddenly you needed to be protected. Men. “I don’t need Paul to watch me. I can take care of myself.”

  Paul frowned. “I’ll stay,” he called out loud enough for Jeremy to hear him.

  I shot him a dirty look.

  “Thank him for me,” Jeremy said.

  I smiled sweetly at my traitor brother. “He said to kiss his ass.”

  “You’re welcome,” Paul said, rolling his eyes.

  “Your dad and Paul were together the whole time?” Jeremy asked.

  “Yeah.” I locked eyes with Dad. “Supposedly.”

  I knew what he was thinking, because I was thinking the same thing. Since Richard was still in jail, the next logical suspect was my father.

  Jeremy cranked his engine. “It had to be someone who knew I wasn’t home. I swear to God, I’ll figure out who it was, and I’ll put them behind bars if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “I don’t want it to be the last thing you do,” I said, my heart twisting. “Besides, I’m fine. Just a little shaken up, that’s all.”

  “That’s what pisses me off. He scared you. I’ll make it better, I swear.” He stepped on the gas. “I’m gonna concentrate on driving safely now. I’ll check in soon. I love you, Chels.”

  “I love you, too,” I said softly.

  When I hung up, Paul made a gagging sound.

  My family. Even the good ones are nonsupportive assholes.

  “Screw you,” I snapped. Then I swung my glare toward my father. “And why are you still here?”

  “Are you actually marrying a fed?” Dad asked incredulously.

  I said nothing. Just frowned.

  “What did I tell you two about marriage?”

  Paul cleared his throat. “To never do it, even if the score would be life-changing. The money won’t be worth the hassle of dealing with the aftermath.”

  “At l
east one of you listened,” he said, his tone hard.

  “Since you never stuck around long enough for me to want to impress you, I mostly tuned you out.” I pointed at the door. “Seriously, if you don’t leave right now, I’ll call the cops.”

  Dad snorted. “Tell them I said hi.”

  Paul stood. “Chelsea—”

  “It’s okay. I’m going. I still have my old truck in the garage, so I can drive myself back to your place.” He glanced at me. “Chelsea…you’re making a mistake getting hitched to a fed, of all people. Mark my words. It’ll only bring you trouble.”

  I crossed my arms, keeping my face carefully neutral. “Guess I like my men untrustworthy. Maybe it’s a leftover trait from my childhood.”

  “Maybe.” He shook his head and headed for the door. “You need better security. Left alone in a big place like this, all the way out here? It’s not safe.”

  Despite his fatherly tone—or his best attempt at one, anyway—I couldn’t help but think his words were a threat. Even though he’d probably been with my brother at the time of the attack, I still didn’t trust him. It didn’t mean he was innocent. I frowned at Paul. “You shouldn’t have brought him here. I made it very clear I wanted nothing to do with him.”

  “So you’d rather we just drove by, left you here alone, drugged on the floor, with the front door wide open?” he asked, lifting a brow. When he did that, he looked like Jeremy. Bet he’d never do it again if I told him that. So I kept quiet. “Dad’s right, you know. You need more security.”

  I didn’t mention Jeremy and I were already planning to increase security. Anything I told Paul would immediately get passed along to my dad, and the less he knew about our precautions, the better. I didn’t trust him, even if Paul did. “I’m not alone. I have Jeremy.”