Nothing more.
It was safer to think that way.
She’d been scared to read anything about the crash victims later. Crazy, that’s what she was. No need to confirm it. And if the victims had matched up to those whose lives had flashed before her eyes that day…She didn’t want to know that either.
She tried to speak to the stranger, to tell him she was sorry for his loss, to speak those empty platitudes of sympathy she knew so well. But her throat felt too tight because suddenly he was right there, in front of her.
He picked up the bag of apples, held them toward her. She stared at him. She didn’t want to take the apples from him. She didn’t want to touch his hand as he handed them to her. Hot instinct ripped through her, even stronger than her so-called psychic flashes. This was women’s instinct.
She just wanted to get out of there. Why did the parking lot feel so empty suddenly?
There was no one else outside the store. The air carried the scent of a coming storm. Wind rustled in the trees behind the building. The occasional car moved down the two-lane highway that led to the restored town square with its beautiful courthouse, cobbled sidewalks and quaint shops and restaurants. Haven, West Virginia, one letter short of Heaven, the cheerful welcome sign coming into town boasted. Surrounded by thick woods of oak, maple and walnut, and the sloped pastures and Gothic-style farmhouses of the Appalachian Mountains, the simple, sleepy scenery backed up the town’s claim.
The pace was no different. Simple. Sleepy. It was a typical early summer night. Time for businesses to put up Closed signs, kids to be tucked into bed, Mary to go home to another lonely evening.
Action-movie-poster man didn’t belong here.
“How do you know me?” she repeated warily.
“I went to your house, but you were leaving. I followed you here. We need to talk.”
Her throat completely closed up.
Screw the apples. Get in the car, drive away. Her pulse thumped and she had trouble thinking.
Was he stalking her? What if he followed her home? Wild possibilities tumbled through her mind. Maybe she was being hysterical.
Maybe she should go back in the store, get Keely. Keely could call the police and—
“I need your help,” he continued. “And you don’t know it, but you need mine. We don’t have much time.”
What?
“I can’t help you.” And the only way he could help her was to go away.
“I think you can. And I think you’re in danger.”
Yes, yes, so did she. From him. He was gorgeous, but a lunatic.
Very, very sad for the women of the world.
She had to get around him to get back to the store. How was she going to do that? Her mind ran jagged, panicky laps, trying to figure out the best way out of the spot she was in.
“I forgot something I meant to get. I have to go back into the store.”
“No.”
No? Her heart jumped with both feet into her throat when he set the apples down on the top of her car.
Relief socked her hard when another car pulled into the parking lot.
She was saved. Thank God.
The dark car screeched to a stop and a window rolled down. Bullets sprayed as the world rocked into slow motion and she screamed.
Chapter 3
Horror gripped Marysia but there was no time for that. The stranger pushed her, and her knees hit the asphalt as she slammed to the ground, her shopping bag flying. Panic roared through her veins and she could barely think, just crawl, desperately.
Run! She wanted to run. More gunshots cracked over her head and her heart boomed in her ears.
She heard tires screeching and a distant shout from the direction of the front of the store, the jangle of the store’s bell over the door. She whipped her head around, saw the dark car gone as quickly as it had come, scrambled up from her hands and knees.
Run! But before she could, he was there, the stranger, ripping open the door of his Impala, pushing her inside as from the corner of her eye she saw the dark car screeching back.
It hadn’t gone away. It had merely turned around in the parking lot, was coming back for more.
Diving, she took cover inside the car as more shots blasted the air. She heard a crash, then nothing. Desperate breaths clawed her lungs. Before she could do anything, breathe, think, move, the stranger was inside, shoving her over to the driver’s seat.
He had a gun. Oh, God.
He had a gun!
“Drive,” he grated.
She blinked, panic and shock drumming wildly inside her. She saw the attacker’s car in the rearview, crashed into a building at the side of the parking lot where Keely kept propane and tanks for sale.
“Drive!” He shouted this time. His hot jade eyes seared her. “Get out of here before he gets out of that car and comes back!”
“The store—My friend—”
“He doesn’t want your friend. He wants you.”
His words registered, but she couldn’t process them. Why would anyone want to kill her?
And yet…Those bullets had been nothing if not incredibly real.
The Impala sprang to life as she turned the key, tires screaming backward. The shoulder strap of her purse tangled across her chest, the bag heavy in her lap, wedging between her body and the wheel. She saw Keely and the checkout girl run back into the store, saw the attacker’s car door push open, a shadow escape, then the world behind her turned bright orange. The Impala hit the highway and she floored the gas, raw horror tearing through her.
Hardly in control of the car, she swerved to miss an oncoming vehicle. The car spun on gravel at the shoulder, and she braked to a skidding stop.
Breath backed up, harsh and cold, in her lungs.
Huge billows of black smoke filled the air behind them. Flames—
“We’ve got to go back! It exploded!” What exploded, she wasn’t sure—the attacker’s car, the propane. The store! Oh, God, the store. “We’ve got to make sure everyone is okay!”
Keely was back there! A killer was back there, too. But he was gone, he’d run away….
And there was a crazy stranger right here in the car with her.
A crazy stranger with a gun.
He’d protected her back there, though. Protected her from the attacker,
