wanted to pinch herself. This night was just too good to be true.
“Any chance I could buy you a cup of coffee?” he asked. “Now that we’ve officially met? There’s a coffee shop I know that’s still open not far from here. Or if you’d like something stronger…”
If only this night never had to end. And Landry Jones was like the topping on the cake. And maybe the ice cream, as well.
So what if he wasn’t the type to frequent art shows? For tonight he could be her type, she thought with a thrill.
“Coffee would be great.” She couldn’t trust herself with anything stronger, not while feeling as exhilarated as she was already.
“Coffee it is then,” he said, his smile mesmerizing. “This night calls for a celebration. If you’re feeling adventurous, we could even have a piece of key lime pie.”
She was feeling adventurous, all right.
“My car is just over here.” He pointed down the dark street and suddenly she wasn’t so sure.
She knew she was being silly. But suddenly the reality of the situation hit her. This wasn’t South Dakota and she didn’t know this man from Adam.
The idea of getting into a car with a complete stranger was totally alien to her—and suddenly seemed more than a little dangerous.
Odd as it might seem, she knew everyone back in her small hometown in South Dakota and never dated anyone she didn’t. Now she was about to get into a car with a stranger she’d met just moments before.
While she could hear traffic a few streets over, there was no longer anyone around, all the shops and galleries were now closed and she was feeling a little vulnerable.
She turned, hoping Evan was still inside closing up. Even the gallery lights were out. She hadn’t seen Evan leave, but then all her attention had been on Landry Jones, hadn’t it?
Landry must have seen her indecision and the way her feet were rooted to the sidewalk. “Wait here. I’ll get the car.” He flashed a reassuring smile, then turned and keyed his remote. A set of headlights flashed down the street. She watched him walk toward a newer-model blue BMW, telling herself she was being very foolish.
Yes, she was taking a chance, but hadn’t she had to take a chance when she’d left South Dakota to come to Florida? And look how that had worked out. Sometimes you had to take a chance.
Especially with a handsome man on one of the most exciting nights of her life.
She groaned as she took a few steps down the street away from the gallery—and Landry Jones. With her luck, the man would turn out to be a serial killer ax murderer. Otherwise, it was almost as if he was too perfect.
AT THE CAR, Landry climbed in and pulled out his cell. He punched speed dial as he watched Willa St. Clair.
“The painting wasn’t in the show,” he said the moment the line was answered. He could see Willa St. Clair waiting for him. “But don’t worry. I’ll find it. I have the artist in my crosshairs right now, so to speak. Tell Zeke I won’t be needing him. I’ll call when I have the disk.” He snapped his cell shut before Freddy D. could argue.
With a start, he saw that Willa St. Clair was walking down the block toward the alley behind the gallery.
He swore as he noticed the change in her. She’d looked a little leery earlier when he’d asked her out. But now she appeared scared and, unless he missed his guess, about to change her mind.
She hadn’t been what he’d expected. One look at her and he’d known he’d have to handle her with kid gloves. At least until he got her in the car.
Now he had to move fast. Once he had her under his control, he told himself, it would be smooth sailing. He grimaced at his own inside joke.
Where the hell was this sailboat painting that Simon had told T and Worm he’d hid the disk in? Landry had come to believe it existed. Simon was smart enough to know that by telling T and Worm, he would also be telling the rest of them. That could explain the intricate description Simon had given the two goons.
But as Landry’s luck would have it, the painting T and Worm described wasn’t in the gallery show.
So where was it? T. and Worm had said that some blond woman had been working at the back of the art studio last night when Simon had gone in. Their description of her matched the artist’s—Willa St. Clair.
She was the key to finding the painting—and ultimately the disk. And Willa St. Clair was going to tell him. One way or another, Landry would have that disk before the night was over.
As he reached to start the car engine and go after her, he heard a soft tap on his side window. He turned and glanced up, only half surprised to see Zeke standing next to his car.
“What the hell do you want?” he asked as he powered down his side window. “Didn’t Freddy D. tell you to call it a night?”
Zeke smiled. “Change of plans, old buddy.”
WILLA KNEW she would hate herself in the morning if she didn’t go out with Landry Jones. For the rest of her life, she would think of him, actually building him up in her memory—if that were possible—and always wonder what might have been.
She stopped walking up the block and turned, blinking as she looked back. The BMW hadn’t moved but she could hear the purr of the engine. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she saw that a man was standing beside the driver’s side talking to Landry.
Now was her chance to just disappear. Take the coward’s way out. Run!
Funny, but that’s exactly what her instincts told her to do.
Pop! Pop! The sound took her by surprise. She stared, unable to move even when she saw the glint of a gun through the windshield, saw the flash as Landry Jones fired two more shots.
The man next to the car staggered back, slammed into the wall and slid slowly down, his head dropping to his chest.
Poleaxed, she stared at the dead man—her first dead man—her mind screaming: Landry shot him! He shot him!
She felt Landry shift his gaze to her and suddenly she was moving, kicking off her high heels and running for her life. She could hear the roar of the BMW engine as he came after her, the headlights washing over her.
A main street was only two blocks away. She could see the lights of the traffic. There would be people around. She could get away, get help. But she knew she would never reach it. The BMW was bearing down on her.
She glanced back and blinded by the headlights didn’t see the man with two dogs on leashes appear out of the darkness off to her right.
The man avoided crashing into her, but she got caught up in the dogs’ leashes and went down hard.
“Are you all right? I’m sorry I didn’t see you,” the man said, sounding distraught as he knelt beside her.
“Help me,” she cried, not yet feeling the pain. “He’s going to kill me.”
“Who?”
