and car keys on her kitchen table, Elise rolled her head over her shoulders, repeating the silent mantra while wondering if her heart rate would ever return to normal. The drive back up to Shadow Peak tonight had seemed to take twice as long as it usually did, her hands damp against the steering wheel, the rhythmic slapping of the windshield wipers keeping perfect timing with the frenzied rate of her pulse.
Considering she was reeling from one innocent dance, she couldn’t deny that Wyatt Pallaton certainly had a way of playing havoc with a woman’s equilibrium.
By the time she’d spun around on the dance floor, ready to tell him to stay the hell away from her, he was gone. Needing to get out of there, she’d found Eric and Chelsea and told them she wasn’t feeling well, then immediately headed home. Now all she wanted was to run a hot bath, put on some soothing music and soak in her tub, doing her best to forget about the man who had practically seduced her with nothing more than a smoldering look.
And the way he’d called her El had damn near made her melt.
Shivering with the decadent memory of every huskily spoken word he’d said to her, she moved to the counter and opened a cupboard, taking down a tall glass and filling it with ice-cold water from the door in her refrigerator. She tilted her head back and took a long drink, then pressed the chilled glass against her forehead, her thoughts in turmoil. Why her, damn it? There were no doubt dozens of single women in Shadow Peak who would have been ecstatic at the prospect of drawing his eye, regardless of his Runner status. But for some insane reason, Wyatt seemed to have singled her out, and she had no idea why. Was he one of those macho jerks who got off on a challenge? Had he been dared? Was this all just some kind of cruel, sick joke to him?
Cut it out, her conscience lectured. He isn’t like that, and you damn well know it.
“What I know is that I’m going out of my mind,” she grumbled into the lonely silence of the house. Hating that awful silence, she’d just lifted the glass to her lips again, when someone softly knocked on the kitchen door that opened onto her carport. Startled, she flinched, sending water sloshing over the side of the glass and onto the tiled floor. Taking a hesitant step forward, she asked, “Who is it?”
“Elise?” a deep, familiar voice called out. “It’s me, Eddie.”
Setting the glass down on the counter, she lifted her hands, pressing her fingertips to her temples, unable to deny the slight twinge of disappointment fluttering in her chest. Had she actually hoped that it might be Wyatt at her door? How freaking crazy was that?
“Elise? Are you okay?”
“Just a second, Eddie,” she muttered, reaching for a dish towel to mop up the floor. Damn it, she was too tired for this. Too tense. Too everything to deal with her well-meaning if slightly obsessed neighbor tonight.
Several weeks ago, not long after Eric had first met Chelsea, Elise had come home from work one day and found her kitchen door slightly open, when she was always careful to lock up when she left. She’d been receiving threatening phone calls for some time and had been worried someone was inside, waiting for her. When her neighbor, Eddie Browning, had come home from work at his stepfather’s garage and found her lingering on the doorstep, he’d searched the house for her to make sure no one was hiding inside, and then she’d thanked him and sent him home. But there’d been a lingering vibe in the air that had completely freaked her out. Nervous and scared, she’d tried to have someone from the pack-run security offices in town come over to take a look, but they’d refused. So she’d contacted Eric, asking him for help, but he also hadn’t been able to detect an intruder’s scent. Then all hell had broken loose when an angry crowd had gathered in front of her house, and a jackass named Glenn Farrow had publicly accused her of making the whole thing up in some kind of bizarre plea for attention. The crowd had joined in, and the accusations had grown ugly, bred by lingering animosity toward her father. Eric had kicked Farrow’s ass, and the bastard had thankfully given her a wide berth ever since.
Shaken by the experience, Elise had made plans to have a new alarm system installed the following afternoon. Eddie, however, had proven to be even better than her security system, keeping a watchful eye on her property for what seemed like all hours of the day. The only problem was that he claimed to see someone snooping around her house on a regular basis, and now she rarely put any stock in his claims. He was a nice young man, and she knew he meant well, but she also knew he was easily confused...and she couldn’t help but wish that he’d be just a little less focused on her life.
Stepping to the door, she pulled back the short curtain that covered the small panes of glass, revealing her worried-looking neighbor. With his baby-blue eyes, cherubic face and golden hair, he looked so much younger than his twenty-five years. It still surprised her that Eddie had initially been considered a suspect in her attack, since he was so childlike and sweetly naive. But he’d thankfully been cleared when his alibi for that night was confirmed.
“You need to go back home now,” she told him, careful to keep her voice firm as she stepped closer to the door. He didn’t frighten her, but she sure as hell didn’t want to do anything to encourage him. “You don’t want anyone to see you over here, remember? It’s only going to cause trouble for you with the pack.”
“But this is important,” he argued, his blue eyes clouded with concern. “I saw someone at your house again tonight. I think he was tampering with your alarm.”
“Eddie, we’ve already been through this,” she said with a sigh. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but it was for his own safety. Nothing good could come from his befriending her. “You have to stop watching my house.”
“But I’m sure of it this time, Elise. I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fi—” she started to say, only to have her words trail off as she glanced down, noticing that the latch on the door was flicked to the unlocked position. Elise was positive that she hadn’t left it that way when she’d locked up before leaving for the wedding, and she’d come in through the front door when she’d gotten home. There was no way she’d missed checking the door, and familiar feelings of terror and anxiety began to work their way through her system, settling like a toxin in her muscles, making her head feel light, her stomach pitchy. Turning around, Eddie’s low, fervent words faded to a buzzing whir in her head as she stepped away from the door and took a deep breath, searching for a scent, but as far as she could tell, there was nothing to cause alarm. Still, she walked across the kitchen, took one of the knives from her butcher’s block and headed down the hall, flicking on every light along the way, until she reached her bedroom.
With her pulse roaring in her ears, she peered into the room, but nothing looked out of place. Then she heard the floorboards softly creak behind her, and before she could scream, a meaty palm clamped around her throat, choking off her air, while a thick, muscled arm banded her middle, pinning her arms at her sides. To her horror, she felt the knife slip from her damp fingers, clattering when it landed at her feet.
No, she thought, as tears flooded her eyes, trailing over her face. This can’t be happening!
“Hello, cherry girl,” a deep, scratchy voice whispered in her ear. “Did you miss me?”
“Who the hell are you?” she wheezed, barely able to get the strangled words out, even though he’d loosened his hold on her throat.
“Don’t you remember me?” the man rasped, the crooning tone of his voice sickening her as much as it terrified.
“No,” she choked out, but Elise knew it was a lie. She may not have a conscious memory of his voice, but something inside her screamed in fear at its familiarity. “What do you
