The wind knocked it over, that’s all.
Letting out a relieved sigh she sent up a silent prayer of thanks. She picked up the painting and set it on top of a stack of boxes. Boxes she hadn’t yet had a chance to sort through. She had given Ashley carte blanche to order for the store, but part of her wondered if they should have agreed on items. If they weren’t careful, they’d have more inventory than they could sell. Besides everyday gift-shop wares, they had taken in local work from artists and some unique items from around the world. She’d even included a few older pieces of her own. She longed for the time to create again. Ellie’s fingers itched at the thought.
Ellie glanced around the shop one last time. After a few last-minute finishing touches tomorrow, she’d host a reception. A grand opening. She was ready. She had to be. For the first time in her life, she was doing something she wanted to do that wasn’t defined by her family. Or a boyfriend.
This was her dream.
She picked up the roller and paint tray, carried them into the storage room and placed them in the utility sink. She removed the broom propping open the back door and the door slammed with a satisfying thud. She turned the bolt and checked the handle again.
Back at the sink, she turned on the hot water and let it run. The water flowed over the paint tray and roller and down into the drain in an orange spiral.
Ellie was eager to go home and get a good night’s sleep.
She sensed it a millisecond before she felt it.
Something hard slammed into her. Her knees buckled. A tiny yelp escaped as icy dread swirled in her gut. A prayer floated to mind as automatically as her next breath filled her lungs.
Dear Lord, help me.
A hand clamped over her mouth, jamming her lips against her teeth. A firm arm steadied her, pressing her back against his torso. Heat radiated off his body. Panic and adrenaline surged through her veins. Pushing off the cement floor, she pressed against her attacker, but his rock-hard body forced the solid edge of the utility sink into her belly, making it impossible to move.
Every inch of her scalp prickled with a kind of fear she had never known. The fear humans must experience right before something very, very bad was about to happen.
“Don’t,” she mumbled against his hand.
He pulled her tighter to him. Something sharp on his jacket dug into her back.
“Please don’t...” she repeated, unable to see his face.
His warm, uneven breath rasped across her cheek. “Where’s the package?” he grunted before a sense of urgency exploded in her. She wrapped her fingers around the handle of the paint roller and brought it up hard and fast. She slugged him in the head with the wet end of the roller.
He backed off with an oomph and folded over, his black hood concealing his features.
Ellie bolted toward the entrance to the shop. She tripped over his foot, but regained her balance by grabbing the doorjamb. She swung into the shop.
Muttered curses sounded behind her. Terror charged every possible nerve ending. She ran forward, knees weak, as if she was caught in one of those nightmares where the ground swallowed each foot.
Steps sounded fast behind her.
This was no nightmare. This was real.
Ellie lurched forward and slapped her hand against the panic button on the alarm control next to the front door, a feature her brother had insisted she install. A feature she had thought silly in sleepy little Williamstown, New York, where the biggest crime involved kids and graffiti and a hundred-year-old mill and angry parents who footed the bill for cleanup so junior wouldn’t have a police record.
An ear-piercing, strident alarm sounded in the small space. She yanked open the front door. The redundant bells whacked the glass. She tripped over the lip in the doorway. She held out her hands to protect her face from the advancing concrete when two strong hands grabbed her forearms, steadying her.
A scream ripped from her throat.
* * *
On the sidewalk in front of Gifts and More, Special Agent Johnny Rock grabbed Ellie Winters and steadied her. Holding her thin, trembling arms, he tilted his head to look into her eyes, but she was squirming, looking frantically behind her.
An ear-piercing alarm split his eardrums.
“Easy there. What’s going on? You okay?” He tore his eyes away from her delicate features and scanned the empty shop behind her, his senses heightened.
Her eyes darted around wildly. “Yes, yes, I’m fine.” She yanked away from him, fear rolling off her in tense waves.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he reassured her. “What happened?”
Her eyes landed on his and narrowed, something flickering in their depths. She seemed to shake herself. “Someone was hiding in my back room. He attacked me.” She lifted her hand absentmindedly to the back of her head. “He...he was chasing me and I...”
“Tripped?” Johnny raised his eyebrows.
“Yes, I tripped over the door frame.” Her forehead furrowed as if the blaring alarm was scraping across her nerves. Orange paint splotched the right shoulder of her T-shirt and more was spattered on her face. She pointed toward the back of the shop. “Someone’s in there.”
“Stay here. I’ll check things out.” He gently took her forearms and placed her against the brick front between the gift shop’s door and the entrance to the bakery. “Don’t move.”
She reached out, her fingers brushing featherlight against the back of his hand. “No, I don’t think you should. Wait for the police.” She winced against the harsh sound. “The alarm is tied directly into the police station. They’ll be here soon. I hit the panic button.”
“I’ll be fine.” In the chaos, she probably didn’t recognize him and realize he was in law enforcement. Last time he had stepped foot in her childhood home more than ten years ago, he had been a friend of her brother’s. A friendship that had been doomed from the start because it had been built on false pretenses. Johnny hadn’t really been a seventeen-year-old transfer student. Johnny had been a twenty-two-year-old rookie cop undercover as a narcotics officer about to rock the tranquil town of Williamstown.
A slam sounded from deep in the shop.
“Stay here,” Johnny repeated. “I can’t let him get away.” If he hasn’t already. This might be the break in the case he’d been patiently waiting for.
“I really don’t think—”
Johnny held up his hand. “Stay here.” She flinched at his command. He hadn’t meant to snap at her.
He stepped into the shop. Ellie had done a lot of unpacking since the last time he had casually strolled by to check on his target.
With a muscle ticking in his jaw, Johnny pulled his gun from its holster under his jacket. From the doorway to the storage room, he had a clear view of the back exit. Cautiously,
