out his cell phone. “Did you see who did this?”
“No, but—” Jennifer’s voice wobbled as she reached through her shattered car window “—he left this.”
“Don’t touch it!” Moving in quickly to intervene, Sam caught her arm. The sheer panic in her eyes sliced off his breath. That and the ivory-handled knife pinning a torn note to the driver’s seat headrest. On the paper, blood-red letters said You’ll pay.
A chill skittered down his neck. Oh, this was a big complication.
* * *
“Let go of me.” Jennifer tried to jerk free of the man who’d appeared out of nowhere in the secluded parking lot. But he held her arm fast while Cassandra just stood and stared.
“Hold still. You’re bleeding.” The man pressed a tissue against her palm.
“What?” Jen glanced down at his hand holding hers so determinedly. Oh. He meant to help her. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she stopped resisting.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” he said in a rumbly voice that soothed her frayed nerves. “The police might be able to get fingerprints off the knife and note.”
“Of course, I wasn’t thinking.” All she’d been thinking about was the A Duel After the Masked Ball painting she’d spotted squirreled away in the gallery’s back room tonight.
She tamped down her panic at the sight of the knife and the thought that it must be connected to the painting. A painting of a stabbing.
She shuddered at the memory of the image. She hadn’t wanted to believe Uncle Reginald could be mixed up in anything illegal. She’d actually convinced herself that the person who’d told her as much—the man she hoped to soon sell her share of the gallery to—was just trying to scare her out of soliciting other offers. But then she’d spotted the Duel painting where it shouldn’t have been.
It wasn’t wildly valuable by art standards, but it was listed as stolen on the FBI’s online database.
And for all she knew this threat could be some kind of revenge.
Her rescuer squeezed her hand, mercifully disrupting her spiraling suspicions. He had a bump on his nose like maybe it had once been broken. His sandy-brown hair curled over his ears, grazing his collar, and his three-day beard growth made him look like a rugged cowboy, except for the sports jacket. He searched her face. “Or do you already know who did this?”
At the apprehension shadowing his coffee-brown eyes, butterflies fluttered through her stomach. “I—”
“It’s got to be one of those nutcase grant applicants!” her sister shrieked. “She assesses them for a charitable foundation. They’re always threatening her when she turns down their applications.” Cassandra waved her arms at Jennifer. “Tell them.”
“Calm down.” Jen fought to keep her tone low and even. “These gentlemen don’t need to know that.”
“Do you see the size of that knife?” Cassandra wailed, louder than before, thrusting her finger at it. “The guy’s a whack job!” Her gaze darted to the bushes that edged the parking lot, and she finally lowered her voice. “For all we know, if these guys hadn’t shown up, the creep might’ve jumped us, too.”
Jennifer shivered. Maybe her sister was right. Maybe this didn’t have anything to do with Reginald or the painting. When she broke the news to Lester this morning that his proposal hadn’t met the foundation’s grant qualifications, he’d been irate.
But he had to know that this was no way to change her mind. Threats like this would only land him in jail.
Her rescuer’s grip tightened, drawing her from her thoughts, and she realized he was trying to still her trembling.
“If someone has threatened you, you need to tell the police when they arrive,” he said, although he looked as though he wanted to press for those details himself.
Her gaze skittered from the endearing concern in his eyes to the small frown curving his lips. She swallowed, not sure what had her feeling more off kilter, the note in her car or the man comforting her. She slipped her hand free of his hold. “Yes, thank you. I’ll do that.”
Turning away, she winced at the curious gazes of people spilling out of the restaurant. She hated being the center of attention at the best of times. If the press caught wind of this, they’d be haunting her for weeks.
The man must’ve noticed her distress because he immediately motioned them to move on. “Everything’s okay, folks. Nothing to see here.” The other man positioned himself in front of her car door, effectively blocking the view of the knife.
A few people craned their necks for a better look but then wandered off like the others.
“Thank you, Mr....” Jennifer whispered. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know your name.”
“Sam. Sam Tate.” He motioned to the tall, lanky fellow guarding the car door. “And this is my brother, Jake. He’s with the Stalwart Fire Department north of the city.”
Jake dipped his head toward her. “Ma’am.”
She could see the family resemblance in their faces, especially the kindness in their eyes, but other than that they seemed as different in appearance as she and her sister were in personality. “Pleased to meet you both. I’m Jennifer Robbins, and this is my sister, Cassandra.”
“What’s taking the police so long?” Cassie fretted. “It’s going to be dark soon.” She wrapped her arms around her middle and flitted her long lashes at the tall fireman. “You’ll stay until they come. Won’t you?”
Jake grinned. “Be happy to.”
His brother didn’t seem in a hurry to leave, either. He crouched down and studied the slashed tires as Jennifer silently thanked God for bringing these two Good Samaritans in their time of need.
Cassie paced. “What if this guy knows where you live, Jen? If only we were leaving on the cruise tomorrow. Then he wouldn’t be able to find you.”
“You’re going on a cruise?” Jake asked. “Which one?”
“Alaskan. We’re supposed to leave Monday.” Jen frowned at the note’s sinister threat. She hadn’t agreed to go yet, but maybe getting out of town for a week would be a good thing.
“Alaska? No way.” Awe filled Jake’s voice. “Us, too. What are the chances?” He turned to Sam, eyebrow arched.
“The trip is a birthday gift from our uncle.” Cassie flashed a photo-worthy grin. “We’re twins.”
“Cool. We’re celebrating our folks’ fortieth wedding anniversary.” Jake hitched his thumb toward his brother. “Sam’s treat.”
A wealthy cowboy then? And generous. Not that Jen cared about a man’s wealth. She just wasn’t interested in any guy who only cared about hers. Which seemed to be every guy who gave her a second look. Maybe the rest were too intimidated by her bigger bank account. Too bad Ian hadn’t been. He’d done his homework so well that she’d gullibly believed he wanted the private family life
