was just her skittery nerves, she told herself. Keep it together. Breathe through the anxiety. Don’t be such a ridiculous goose.
It was still summer and she couldn’t afford to let the fear get the best of her so soon.
Then a new noise came from outside. It was a scraping sound. Maybe metal against wood? Like someone prying at the locked door.
Someone was trying to get in!
Her brain screeched the words in her head, and her flesh went cold. Rigor mortis seized her muscles as her gaze glued to the entrance. There was no inward sign of tampering, but that noise came again.
Scritch. Scritch. Scritch.
This time, she lurched out of the chair. Her half-paralyzed body moved with clumsy jerks as she Frankenstein’d toward the bathroom. She could lock herself inside there, she thought in urgent panic. There was a hook and an eyebolt—
—that wouldn’t stop anyone.
She knew it wouldn’t stop him.
Frozen again in fear, Skye stood in the middle of the office as horror dried her mouth and seized her lungs. That other night, she’d managed one scream before his hand had been there, fleshy and foul with bitter sweat, and then he’d gagged her with a kitchen towel. Later, she’d realized she could have yelled until she was hoarse and it wouldn’t have mattered. It had been off-season and there was no one near enough to hear her over the ceaseless surf.
Scritch. Scritch. Scritch.
The sounds grated against her hypervigilant nerves. Skye’s skin twitched and she stared down at her feet. Move, she commanded them. Move!
Move where? a dull voice in her head countered, resigned to what she’d been dreading all these months. He’ll just find you. He’ll just touch you again. He promised he’d finish what he started.
And then she thought of the last man who had touched her. It wasn’t him, that disgusting bastard with his stinking sweat. It had been Gage, dancing with her at Captain Crow’s, making her feel like a normal woman for the first time in a very long while.
Gage. Gage!
She found herself by her desk, unaware of how she’d made it there. Snatching up the phone, she fumbled with the buttons. The screen lit, and then she managed to tap Call. His voice sounded in her ear.
Relief and fear made her head spin. “I’m at the office,” she choked out. “I need you.”
“What?” he said. “Skye?”
She swallowed, and then revealed everything she’d vowed to keep from him. “I don’t feel safe. Help me.”
CHAPTER SIX
GAGE SPRINTED UP THE BEACH. His phone was in his pocket, but he didn’t pause for a 911 call, though the thought flitted through his mind. Not only was he unsure of the exact emergency, but he knew he could reach Skye way before any patrol car.
All looked quiet ahead of him. Some of the cottages had their roof-mounted canister lamps, trained to spotlight the surf, turned on, but the sand itself was shadowed and empty of people. There was a glow coming from the direction of Captain Crow’s at the northern end of the cove, but Skye’s office was a quarter mile south...and appeared dark and deserted as he drew closer.
As unease bubbled in his belly, he redoubled his pace while trying to maintain his calm. During his career he’d faced dozens of dire situations and always managed to keep his head. But it felt near to exploding now—his chest, too, as his heart thundered against his ribs.
“Skye!” he shouted as he leaped onto the office step. His knuckles thumped against the door. “Skye? Are you all right?”
Silence. His composure fractured, and he found himself hammering the wood with both fists. “Skye!”
More silence.
He yanked out his phone and started jabbing at the display to dial her number. Was she hurt? Had she left?
A dozen questions whirling through his fragmented mind, he almost missed the crack in the door. A yellow edge of light leaked out. “Gage?” a voice croaked.
He shoved at the wood to make room for himself. Skye gasped, but the sound didn’t register over his vital need to assess the situation. Inside the brightly lit room, he blinked, getting his bearings.
Everything appeared fine. He didn’t know what he’d expected. Upended furnishings? A threatening stranger? But the room looked cheerful, with everything in its normal place...
Oh, shit.
Everything in its normal place except for Skye, who’d retreated to the far corner. She slid to the floor and curled into a self-protective ball, her knees to her chest, her arms wrapping her shins, her head tucked low. The pose was so disturbing he felt a clutch at his throat.
“What the hell is going on?” he demanded in a harsh voice, then winced as she cringed, her body folding tighter as if she was trying to disappear.
His gaze sped around the room again, still finding nothing alarming. In quick strides, he made it to the bathroom doorway. The closet-sized space was empty of anything other than toilet, sink, soap and towel dispenser.
But ghostly feet were tapping up and down his spine and Skye hadn’t moved. Anxiety shook his insides again, but he tried to smooth his expression as he hunkered near her. “Skye?”
She jolted as if in fear, shaking him to the core.
Keep your head, he reminded himself. Keep her calm.
“Skye. Honey.” This time she didn’t twitch a muscle, and it felt like progress. “Was...was someone here?”
He could feel her struggle to find her voice. Finally she spoke, the words low and thready. “I don’t know.”
Ignoring his yammering pulse, he studied what he could see of her. Sloppy, oversize clothes. Bare feet shoved into a pair of shoelace-less sneakers. Her person didn’t seem to have come to any harm, but her body shuddered with a fine tremor.
“Why did you call me?” he asked.
“I want to feel safe.”
Okay. “What made you feel unsafe?”
“I thought I heard someone trying to get in.” Her head inched up and she peeked at him over her knees, her pupils nearly overtaking the gold band surrounding them. “Did you see anyone?”
He shook his head slowly, as if she were a wild animal that might flee if he moved too fast. “No. But let me go look again.” He made to stand and her hand shot out, gave his knee a brief grip, then retracted as if she’d been burned.
“Don’t leave. Don’t leave me.”
“All right.” He blew out a silent breath of air and tried to determine what the hell he should do next. Clearly she was frightened, traumatized maybe, and he didn’t want to make a misstep. Maybe her friend Polly? But Skye had called
