Relentless (Code R.E.D. Book 4)

Chapter 12

“Double caramel double-blended venti frappuccino up for Willow!” a barista called out.

Yum. Willow went to the Starbucks pickup counter and grabbed her drink, the plastic cup instantly chilling her hand. She hitched higher on her shoulder her purse that was heavy as usual with her small laptop weighting it. Just as soon as she finished drinking her frap she’d head to the library and work on her dissertation defense.

A pair of women vacated a small round table in the corner of the crowded coffee shop and Willow plopped into one of the chairs the moment it was empty. She scores, she thought and almost laughed then rolled up the sleeves of her white button-up blouse. She unwrapped and plunged her straw into her frappuccino.

Before she had a chance to take one sip, a man said, “Anyone sitting here?”

Automatically Willow shook her head as she looked up. The place was crowded, and she was lucky to have grabbed a chair, so she didn’t mind sharing.

The man smiled when she met his gaze. She started to smile in return, but a prickly sensation sent goose bumps rising on her arms. Something didn’t feel quite right about the way he looked at her with his dark eyes as he took the opposite seat.

He had beautifully carved features and night-black hair. He extended his hand. “Filippo,” he said. His accent was clearly Italian like his name.

Willow didn’t want to take his hand, but she forced a smile and let him take hers. His was hot and dry and more prickles rolled up her arm. He didn’t take his gaze off her and she had to tug to get her hand away from his.

“What is your name?” he asked in his smooth accented voice.

Then she noticed the man didn’t even have a cup of coffee.

Zane’s and Aunt Becky’s words echoed in her head at the same time, telling her not to be too friendly with strangers. She’d always followed her heart and her gut, and both were telling her to get the hell out of here.

“Oops!” Willow faked another smile as she wrapped her fingers around her frappuccino cup and pushed back her chair. “I forgot I’m supposed to meet up with my trainer. He’s a former football player and he’s so tough. He’ll probably make me do extra reps.”

She was to her feet and pushing her way through the crowded coffee shop before he had a chance to say a word.

Just as she opened the glass door to let herself out, she caught a reflection—the man was following her.

Willow’s heart lunged into her throat. She tossed the frap that she hadn’t even sipped into the black waste can beside the exit and swung around the door as fast as she could without running.

You’re imagining things, Willow. There’s not some man following you. But she looked over her shoulder she saw he was close behind and his long strides were taking him closer to her.

Oh, my God.He was following her. Willow glanced around and saw a large group of tourists on the Freedom Trail and ran straight into the middle of the crowd.

Immediately she realized she had a new problem. At five-eleven she towered over the group that was mostly comprised of foreign visitors who were at least five inches shorter than her.

The Italian joined the crowd and before she could move ahead, the man cupped her elbow with his hot, dry hand. “Where are you going in such a hurry, Willow?” he said in his smooth voice. He wrapped his fingers around her arm and jerked her to a stop so that the crowd parted around them, leaving them behind.

The sound of her name—that she hadn’t told him—coming from the Italian sent cold shooting through her.

Bravado. Confidence. Don’t let him know you’re scared as hell.

Yeah, right.

She jerked her arm as she whirled and glared up at him. “Let go of my arm or you will regret it.”

He smiled and tightened his grip as he moved behind her. “You’re going to come with me.”

She hadn’t played basketball for eleven years without knowing how to intentionally foul someone.

With all her strength, Willow rammed her free elbow into the man’s gut. At the same time, she hooked her ankle around his and jerked him off balance.

A shout of obvious surprise came from him as her other elbow slipped from his grasp. She whirled on one foot like she was holding a basketball and looking for a good pass. Instead, she let her heavy purse drop from her shoulder, slide down her arm, and into her grasp.

She gripped the straps of her purse in both hands and swung right at the man’s face.

Score.

“Fuck!” the man shouted as she nailed him in the face, the side of her laptop slamming into him with the power of her swing. Blood immediately started flowing from his nose and it was bent at an odd angle now.

At the same time, he’d dropped to the sidewalk, something metal with a dull shine flew from his hand and skittered across the concrete.

She ran.

It hammered at her mind that the man had been holding a gun and that’s what had spun away from him. He could have shot her. Why would some strange man want to shoot her?

Willow’s heart pounded like mad and adrenaline spiked in her veins, giving her more speed. She rounded a corner, her breath coming in harsh gasp from the fear racing through her. The squeal of tires came from around the corner.

She ducked into a clothing store filled with high racks of dresses and low circular racks of blouses and slacks. The salesperson was busy and at that moment all Willow could think about was hiding. The man had a freaking gun, and she wasn’t about to remain in the open.

Willow dropped to her knees and crawled under a rack of shirts and was relieved to see it wasn’t a rack with an open center. It had a flat surface above her meant to hold a mannequin.

When she was under the clothing she scrunched up with her jean-clad knees drawn up to her chest and her purse tight against her. She bit her lip to keep herself from breathing too loud.

“Can I help you?” a woman said from somewhere across the store. The salesperson.

Then came that smooth Italian voice, only now it sounded not so smooth, like he was having a hard time talking—probably because she’d broken his nose. Every word he spoke held a bite of fury. “Did a woman come in here? Very tall. Blonde.”

The woman hesitated. “How long ago?”

“Now.” It sounded like the Italian was also having a hard time not sounding like he was pissed. “Within the last two minutes.”

“Definitely not.” Willow almost let out a gasp of relief that the woman hadn’t spotted her—or at least was covering for her.

The man said nothing in response, and she heard his footsteps heading toward the door. He started speaking in a one-sided conversation and she realized he was talking to someone on a cell phone.

“She got away,” the man was saying as his voice grew more distant. “No, I don’t know where the hell she went. She wouldn’t have escaped if I did.” Then the faint words came, “cop” …“girlfriend.”

And then nothing.

Willow slumped against the metal support at the center of the rack. He was gone.

Then she almost screamed when someone parted the clothing in front of her. Relief flooded through Willow again when she saw the salesperson.

“Are you all right?” the woman asked as she extended her hand. “I’m sure that man is gone. Should I call the police?”

“Thank you for not telling him I came in.” Willow let the woman help her up. Her head felt a little woozy as she stood. All that adrenaline and being scrunched like she’d been before getting up made for one dizzy blond.

“Police?” Willow shook her head, more to clear it than to say no. “I’m dating a cop. I’ll call him,” she said when she began to think straight again. She needed to talk to Zane. Somehow, she knew only he could help her. “Can I use your phone? I don’t carry one.”

The woman reminded Willow of Aunt Becky with her motherly air as she ushered Willow to the back of the store. “You should have a phone for emergencies.” The woman glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t know what this was all about, but that man looked dangerous. Not to mention all that blood on his face and his shirt.”

“You bet I’m going to get a phone now just as soon as I find a store that sells them.” Willow swung her purse onto her shoulder as she tried to think of the closest phone store. Her thoughts were pinging all over the place. “I could have been calling for help while I was hiding. Or when I first noticed that man following me.”

“Why was he following you?” The woman went behind the sales desk and handed Willow a corded phone. “Did you hit him or something? Blood was practically pouring from his nose.”

“Honestly, I don’t know who he was.” Willow’s hands shook as she punched in the number for Zane’s cell phone. “He just grabbed my arm and I let him have it with my purse.” She glanced at the purse and shook even more when she saw the blood on the corner of it.

“Good job,” the salesperson said. “You must have nailed him good.” Then the woman moved away, obviously to give Willow some privacy as she made her call.

Willow almost cried with relief when Zane answered, “Steele.”

“It’s Willow,” she said, doing everything she could to keep her voice from cracking. “Something just happened. I’m scared. I have to talk to you. I need to see you.”

His voice sounded tight, concerned. “Where are you?”

“I’m—” She tried to focus as the adrenaline rush started to leave her. “Near King’s Chapel.” It hit her that the man had tried to kidnap her right in front of the centuries-old cemetery next to the chapel.

“Are you someplace safe?”

Willow looked at the salesperson. “What’s the address?” she asked the woman, then repeated the address to Zane.

“I’ll be right there.” He sounded as if he was forcing himself to remain calm. “Don’t move.”

Willow swallowed. “Okay,” she said right before he ended the connection.

“Thank you.” She looked at the salesperson as she set the phone on the receiver. “My boyfriend, the cop—he’s coming to get me.”

The lady nodded. “You’ll be safe here.”

Willow stayed in the back of the store. The moment Zane walked through the door, she ran to him, threw her arms around his waist, and started shaking.

“What happened, honey?”Zane’s throat was tight as he put his arm around Willow’s shoulders and guided her outside the store and into the sunny morning.

Zane had parked his work SUV illegally in front of the chapel’s burial grounds but had his placard in the window indicating that his vehicle was there for law enforcement purposes.

“Some man.” Willow’s shoulders were trembling and that scared the shit out of him. It had to be something bad. “He—I think he tried to kidnap me.”

“What the hell?” Zane’s mind churned as he stopped in front of the gate to the King’s Chapel Cemetery. He took Willow by the shoulders, and she met his gaze. She didn’t look like she’d been crying but the fear was still in her eyes. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

A shot pierced the quiet morning.

Willow gave a cry of pain and surprise, and he barely caught her as she collapsed and blood began to spread, brilliant red against her white shirt.