Hart To Hart Page 4

  * * *

  Vic barely slept all night. The image of El’s perfect breasts had been burned into his brain, keeping his mind active. Sure, she’d drunk too much, but it shouldn’t have been enough for her to lose all of her inhibitions. Or had it? When she’d left his office, and again at lunch, she acted as if she could barely stand him. Then all of a sudden, she has a few drinks, and she wants to have sex with him?

  Something must have happened in those few hours to make her change her mind, but what? Perhaps she’d spoken with Charlotte, or maybe she’d called Wendy and her friend had convinced El to enjoy herself while she was in Montana. But why? If Wendy was the stalker, did she hope El could distract him into not working on the case? That made less sense than El’s actions. Shit, but he needed some strong coffee.

  Hmm. Did her best friend have designs on the gallery? If El moved out to Montana, Wendy could slip in and run the place. That had potential. Then again, so did all the other suspects.

  Christ. He needed to wake up. Vic had battled with himself all night about whether he should have taken her up on her offer, but he respected her too much to take advantage of her in an inebriated state.

  Light had already eased around the edges of the curtain. Vic probably should leave, but he didn’t want her to wake up alone. He was quite confident she’d feel like shit, and having someone near might help lessen the incessant pounding.

  As soon as she remembered showing him her breasts, she’d be mortified, and he wanted to assure her she was safe with him. What he wouldn’t tell her was that it would take every ounce of his military training to keep his distance.

  El moaned, and Vic sat up. If he thought she’d sleep another few hours, he’d have gone in search of some aspirin and coffee. She groaned, rolled onto her back, and had the wherewithal to keep the covers up to her neck. She licked her lips and his body woke up.

  Her eyes cracked open as she lifted onto her elbows. “What are you doing here?”

  How much did she remember? “I wanted to make sure you’d be okay.”

  “Am I?”

  He chuckled. “You’re alive. That’s a good thing.” El never was a morning person. “How about you take a shower while I order us some breakfast?”

  “What happened?” she said, her voice muffled.

  “You might have had a bit too much to drink.”

  She looked around the bed, probably for her clothes. “I vaguely remember some guy in a suit. Or did I imagine him? God, but I feel like shit.”

  “You were laughing and enjoying yourself with him at the bar last night.”

  “Did I really? Can you bring me something to put on?”

  When they were first married, she liked when he’d pick out her clothes. God, but he’d fucked things up since those blissful days. At least he had Charlotte on his side again. His beautiful daughter had been quick to forgive. While she looked so much like El, the two were very different.

  “Sure.” He stepped over to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer.

  Damn. Why was everything all lacy and pretty? The colors were soft—pinks, yellow, virginal white. He closed his eyes for a moment then plucked out a pair of pink panties and a white bra. He didn’t want them to match. From the next drawer, he chose a pair of worn jeans, a T-shirt, and a sweater that seemed too big. That should do nicely.

  He gathered them in his arms and walked over to the bed. “Get dressed and I’ll head downstairs and find us some food. After you shower, I want to show you something.”

  “What?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Vic couldn’t leave fast enough. If he didn’t, he’d be tempted to slide in next to her, bite her bottom lip, and then lick her silly, but he’d have to relegate that joy to his dreams.

  * * *

  When the door shut, Ellie plastered her clothes to her chest, placed her feet on the floor, and rushed to the bathroom. The throbbing in her temple increased to the point where she feared her brain might bleed. She set the clothes on the counter and leaned over the sink, praying for some relief. Dear Lord, what have I done?

  Her mouth tasted like dirt and gravel. She couldn’t remember drinking this much. Ever. What had she been thinking? Clearly, she hadn’t been.

  When she’d first woken up, she couldn’t believe Vic was in her room. Here she thought she’d actually dreamed him. Then the image of some guy in a suit talking to her at the bar entered her brain. Next thing she remembered was Vic tugging off her pants and shirt. The final memory was her sitting up in bed and showing him her tits. Could this get any worse? Now, he’d believe she wanted him.

  Okay, she did in a way. Actually, what she’d wanted was a pleasant experience to dampen the nightmare, but in her drunken state, she hadn’t realized that if she had given into her carnal desires that it would complicate matters too much. Charlotte had been hurt once, and Ellie didn’t need to make things worse.

  She turned on the water and stepped into the shower. Even though she washed her hair vigorously and scrubbed her body hard, no amount of heat or cleaning could take away the embarrassment of her practically propositioning Vic. Jeez, she was a mess.

  Now what was she supposed to do? He had to realize that she found him attractive. She’d admit that when he was near, she felt safe, but that wouldn’t be enough in the long run. Keeping her distance was the only option, mostly because she needed to give Vic space to focus on finding this guy. He didn’t need her to upset the balance of his life.

  The room door opened and feet shuffled. “Be right out,” she called.

  For a split second, she thought perhaps someone else might have come into her room until she realized Vic would have stopped anyone from getting near.

  “Food’s ready,” he called out.

  She smiled—but sobered instantly when a sharp ache stabbed her eye. His comment implied she had to hurry. Vic hated when food wasn’t piping hot, whereas she could take it any temperature. They had more differences than similarities, but those first years of marriage had been idyllic. Her hand went to her belly. When they’d found out she was pregnant, Vic had gone crazy with joy. He couldn’t wait to feel the baby kick and even insisted on singing to Charlotte before she was born. When their daughter was three, he was deployed to Afghanistan. When he returned, he was never the same.

  She stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and dressed. Thinking about the good old days wouldn’t help her sanity one bit. She dressed as quickly as she could, not caring that her damp hair stuck out. She opened the door and the rich aroma of food almost made her gag. Her stomach was not ready to eat, but she knew she had to try.

  “Found some aspirin.” Vic stepped close and held out two pills and a glass of orange juice.

  His presence made her pulse rise, which only caused the pounding to worsen. “Thanks, but do me a favor?”

  “Sure.”

  “Don’t let me drink again. Ever.”

  He chuckled. “I think you’ve learned your lesson. What made you do it?”

  She shrugged. “Just all the shit coming down at once made for some bad decisions.” She swallowed the pills, along with half the juice, and handed him back the glass.

  “Come sit at the table and have a bite,” he said.

  She agreed mostly because she wanted to know what he’d found out. Once seated, she placed a few bites of scrambled eggs on her plate, along with a slice of bacon and a half piece of whole-wheat toast. “May I have some coffee?” She nodded to the white carafe next to him.

  He poured them both a cup. “Drink and I’ll tell you what Amy found out.”

  From the way he was frowning, it wasn’t good. Oh, shit. “Was it Hilton? Or Brian?”

  “Neither.”

  She should be relieved, but that only left Cal. “Then it was Cal Forsythe. Damn. That little creep.”

  “Wasn’t him either.”

  While she ate, Vic loaded up his iPad then turned it toward her. She watched as a woman with shoulder length brown hair sat at a computer. �
��Who is she?”

  He cocked a brow. “I was hoping you could tell me. I thought it might be Wendy.”

  She shook her head, not happy he believed she could have been fooled like that. “Wendy cut her hair short and dyed it blonde a few months back.” The video stopped. “You don’t have one of her face?”

  “No. She was careful to keep it averted. It was as if she knew the camera’s location.”

  “You’re sure she sent the message?”

  “Yes.”

  Ellie finished a few bites then sipped her coffee, hoping the caffeine would help the headache. “Why would a woman send me creepy emails?”

  “It’s possible that Brian dumped her before dating you. Maybe she’s worried you two are still a couple.”

  “I suppose, though it’s not likely. She had a piece of paper in her hand. It’s as if she’s just following instructions.”

  Vic’s eyes widened, seemingly impressed. She glanced away, not happy that he looked so young all of a sudden—so like he used to when she first met him.

  “If you give me the rest of the names of the people in your class,” he said, “I’ll do a quick background check on them.”

  Vic was going above and beyond the call of duty. “Can do.”

  After she finished eating as much as she could, Ellie’s head didn’t ache as much and her stomach seemed to be settling. She wrote down the information he asked for. “That’s all of them.”

  Vic slapped his thighs and stood. “Are you going to be okay by yourself?”

  “Yes. If I go out, I’ll be sure to stay on the main drag. Or, I’ll download a book and stay in and read.”

  “Good. I’ll let you know if I find anything.” His tone had turned professional. That worked for her.

  Vic nodded and left. Ellie had debated apologizing for her behavior last night, but she wasn’t ready to talk about what she did. Knowing Vic, it would only lead them to a place she didn’t want to go.

  Chapter Five

  Never having mastered the art of sleeping comfortably in a chair, Vic rolled his shoulders to work out the kinks. As much as he’d like to stretch out on his office floor and take a nap, he had to keep working. If he didn’t, his mind would wander back to El. Beautiful El. The last five years had made her a resilient woman, yet at the same time, a lost soul. He didn’t dare speculate why.

  With the list of suspects before him, he went to work researching each person, starting with Hilton Davies then moving on to Brian Lovett, before tackling El’s best friend, Wendy Jackson. He refused to draw any conclusions until he knew what each of them ate for breakfast. One of them had to have a reason for targeting El.

  Sharon had offered to do a lunch run for him and then, five hours later, ran out and picked up dinner. She’d earned a raise this week for sure.

  She set the container of fish, steamed broccoli, and coleslaw on his desk. “You plan on working all night?” He could see from the way she was shifting her weight that she wanted to get home. It was Friday night, after all, and last week she’d met someone new.

  He looked up at her. “You go ahead. I’m working my way through the last of the suspects.”

  “You’re the one who needs to go home. Your eyes are bloodshot. You’ll be fresher in the morning. You always are.”

  He smiled, but it took an effort. “I’ll eat and then decide my next move. Thanks for holding down the fort today.” She’d fielded several phone calls, telling people Vic could not be disturbed. She acted more like his keeper than his secretary. “Go. Have a good weekend.”

  “You can rest assured I will. Got a date tonight.” She grinned.

  He was happy for her. After she headed out, Vic began with the members of El’s class, starting with Cal Forsythe because he seemed to be the most interesting of the lot. Vic quickly learned that Cal’s father had died when he was five. That might not have been so bad had his mother not been a drunk. Cal was eleven when she passed away from alcohol poisoning. After that, he was put in a foster home. His first foster parents were artists and taught him to appreciate art, but when they couldn’t afford to keep him, he went back in the system. From some of the awards Cal had won, he had some artistic talent.

  The man was forty-one, but the only picture Vic found of him was as a twenty-five year old. He had classic good looks despite being on the thin side. El claimed he had a crush on her. As someone who might be able to help Cal with his career, it made sense he’d gravitate toward her. The motive for him stalking her wasn’t apparent, however. Damn.

  Vic had to be missing something. He leaned back in his chair and stretched. It was almost nine. Sharon was right. Things might be clearer in the morning, so he packed up his files and laptop and headed out. Wow. He hadn’t expected snow. The wind was quite still, making it pretty but cold.

  His mind continued to swirl with scenarios as he headed out of town toward his house. Vic wasn’t ready to eliminate Hilton, but he seemed the least likely suspect. The man’s wife had passed away seven years ago, and she left him quite a lot of money, much of which he’d invested in the Davies-Hart Gallery. Surely, he had to know that El was no longer seeing Brian, which might explain the flowers, but not the emails and texts. Unless, what El said was right—that they were dealing with more than one person. That would complicate things.

  Halfway to his house, a pair of headlights came behind him—fast—and he flipped up the rearview mirror to prevent the glare from blinding him. With no streetlights this far out, he couldn’t see much. Vic slowed then moved closer to the side of the road to let this ass pass. The lights drew near. Just as Vic was about to press hard on the accelerator to speed up, the guy rammed the back of Vic’s SUV.

  What the fuck?

  He gripped the wheel tight and slammed on the brakes, but the large truck behind him had the momentum. One minute Vic was on the road and the next he was sliding down the snowy embankment, bouncing on two wheels and then flipping over. Upside down, the car slid on the roof, jarring Vic right and left, his head hitting the side window with force. Shit. The seatbelt yanked him back as his body tried to fly forward. Glass broke and Vic’s face was sliced open. Blood trickled down his cheek. The car rammed into something solid, and then blackness engulfed him.

  * * *

  The ringing phone in Ellie’s dream caused her to jerk in her sleep. She was in the middle of a recurring dream in which she was young, thin, and happy. She and Vic were holding hands, wading ankle-deep in the clear blue waters of the Caribbean. They’d been married only a few years but were still talking about their exciting future—how he wanted to protect mankind while she wanted to make the world a better place, one brush stroke at a time. Then his cell rang, like it always did at this point. It was the call they knew was coming—the one that would signal the end. Vic was being deployed.

  Every time she reached this part, Ellie had woken up—the rest of the vacation bitter, argumentative, and very painful. Then why was the phone still ringing if Vic’s cell was at his ear and he was talking?

  A rush of reality reached her. Her phone was ringing. She jerked awake, but it took a moment to recognize that she was not at home but rather in Montana. She reached across the bed to the hotel phone. “Hello?”

  She glanced at the glowing clock. It was three in the morning. WTF?

  “Ms. Hart?”

  “Yes. Who is this?” Had her stalker finally decided to confront her?

  “This is Dr. Randy Carstead. I work at the Emergency Room of the Lucy Ambrose Center For Excellence Hospital.”

  Was this a joke? No hospital had that many names. “Okay.”

  “I’m calling to let you know your husband was in a car accident this evening.”

  “What?” Her heart pounded, and suddenly the cobwebs that had a strong hold on her mind disintegrated.

  “He’s fine even though someone ran him off the road. The paramedics on the scene said he was lucky to be alive.”

  Ellie’s heart sputtered and then froze for a moment. She wante
d to tell the doctor that Vic wasn’t her husband, but no words would form. Fine could mean a lot of different things. “How is he? Really.”

  “We’re still assessing him now, ma’am. He’s conscious and seems—”

  Just conscious? How is that fine? “Can I see him?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Dr. Carstead gave her directions. “Be prepared for a belligerent patient, though. I’ve given him a pain pill that should kick in soon.”

  This almost made her smile. Vic’s feistiness implied he’d be okay. “Thank you for letting me know.”

  When she hung up, she needed a moment to process what happened. This was all her fault. She never should have come to Montana and chance drawing this mad man out here. Whoever she’d pissed off, wanted to harm the people she cared for. Damn him.

  As fast as she could, she dressed. Her head pounded anew with another headache. Poor Vic. As soon as she knew the extent of his injuries, she’d call Charlotte to let her know.

  Ellie rushed out, got halfway to the elevator then had to return because she’d forgotten her phone. Christ. Where was her head? On her second attempt to leave the hotel, she’d made it as far as the front door before she realized she’d forgotten her car keys. Double shit. Back upstairs she went for hopefully her last trip. Finally, she made outside. Really?

  Snow was falling heavily. Finding her way to the hospital would be hard enough in the middle of the night. She didn’t need the roads to be slippery. Ugh. Ellie inhaled to help gather her thoughts, but all that did was freeze her nose hairs. Being careful not to slip, she reached her car and jumped in. The engine turned over but she let it run thirty seconds for the inside to warm.

  She took off, still not believing Vic was in the hospital. Driving under the speed limit, she headed east on Second Avenue then north on Arbor Way. The last thing either of them needed was for her to wreck. While it was probably less than two miles, it seemed like twenty. The hospital lot was almost deserted, which allowed her to park close to the Emergency Room entrance.