Nowhere to Hide (The Kendrick Group #1)

Chapter 1

CILLA

Edison lights crisscrossed above the patio and warred with the dusky pink of the sky. I tapped my finger to the beat of the music that pumped from hidden speakers. The song was ethereal and uncomplicated—perfect for cocktails and meandering conversation.

Not that I was there for talking.

Being alone in a crowd was the goal.

The longest day of the year was coming to a close with a lick of fire glinting around buildings in the distance. I sipped from the drink that matched the sky. The bartender called it Solstice, as if he’d known it would match the skyline tonight.

Solstice always seemed to be a harbinger of change in my life. Summer was officially here and the heat of it had baked into the stone floor of the rooftop bar. The barest hint of a breeze kissed my shoulders, reminding me I’d been remiss with the sunblock today.

I’d been too preoccupied with walking the coastline.

It was rocky and rough in the way only New England could claim.

Salem, Massachusetts was a strange mix of old world and new.

The water was just as treacherous as the history of the witches that continued to lure people in year after year.

Stories of a past collective hysteria ending in ghostly markers in the haunting cemeteries that framed the town.

I’d visited the witch tree and felt a power I’d never known humming from the gnarled branches trapped behind chains.

Perhaps some distant tether to my shared blood with the Bishop line. Or maybe because I was a woman who knew how easy it was to have people turn on me like so many of those souls lost long ago.

While the cemetery pulled at me, and capitalistic tourism amused me, it was the serene wharf below that held me in its thrall. Oh, to jump on a boat and disappear into the horizon and leave life behind even if it was only for a few hours.

The music changed over to a delicate voice allowing the slapping water below to wash over me.

Salem had been an impulsive trip. I was a planner at heart, but after what happened in New York, I’d simply started driving. Originally, I’d thought to head north from my apartment in Albany.

Lake George or the Adirondacks usually soothed me when I needed a bit of water therapy.

But I’d found myself heading out of state.

The smooth ride changed over to snarling traffic of the Ted Williams Tunnel until I finally landed in Salem.

I’d always been drawn to the mysterious city.

Instead of staying there, I usually added on time for a daytrip when I traveled for Hartman & Hayes Industries.

Now that work didn’t control every hour of my day, I needed to figure out what the hell I was doing with myself. Evidently that included a bit of self-indulgence with Salem.

I smoothed my hand down my hip. At least I could finally use my stunning wardrobe for something other than a work dinner.

I finished my drink, setting the glass on one of the tables dotted around the edges of the rooftop.

I threaded my way through the crush of people as the music switched back to the driving beat edged with the undeniable pulse of sex to entice people back onto the dance floor.

Full dark slithered across the skyline, inviting the sweaty lure of uncomplicated sex.

A few grabbing hands tried to stop me on the way, but I wasn’t interested in being touched tonight.

My wounds were too fresh, and enough tequila swam in my veins making the music invasive instead of alluring.

I pushed through the door to the staircase that led to the hotel.

I needed to walk. The lure of the water drove me down the stairs and out to the cobblestone street.

My heels clicked on the uneven street, but I had one focus—the water.

The thumping bass faded, and the slap of water along the pier lured me closer.

Boats in varying sizes were docked. I didn’t know much about them, but I did appreciate the sleek lines and the easy access to escape.

What would it feel like to push the engine until there was no land in my rearview, just open water as far as the eye could see?

I ran my fingers down the slope of a dry-docked ship.

Its sleek lines were undeniable even in the dim light from my hotel.

It was so lovely and quiet untangling the chaos in my mind.

Losing my job and my fiancé on the same day was bad enough, but finding out my best friend was the catalyst was an extra layer of betrayal.

I drew in a deep breath of the sea with an underlying sharpness of gas and vinegar.

Dry-docked boats were in varying phases of service or storage.

Water lapped at the sturdy piles of the dock and chopped under the planks.

I didn’t realize how deep I’d gone into the darkened slips until the sound of footsteps behind me dented my hazy focus.

Stupid, Cilla.

I’d wandered too far away.

My hotel was only a few hundred yards away from the wharf. It wasn’t like I was in the middle of nowhere.

The steps increased behind me, but I’d lived in cities long enough to know not to turn around.

I tucked my hand into my bag, cursing the fact that I’d changed over to the smaller clutch to match my barely-ever-worn dress.

I didn’t have anything inside other than the little canister of Mace I kept on my keychain and a lip gloss.

Helpful, obviously.

Was it someone from the hotel?

Someone watching for an idiot female to break off from the pack or the relative safety of the hotel?

Oh, hey that’s me—the idiot female.

Cripes, I knew better. My blood pounded in my ears. Whatever light buzz I’d had dissipated in the rush of awareness. I’d lived in New York City and Albany throughout the last twelve years. I was usually more aware of my surroundings. The safe touristy vibe of Salem had left me far too complacent.

I scooted between two boats that were dry docked along the back of the wharf and nearly tripped over a pail of something.

Death by varnish? Fuck me.

My heart pounded in my ears and the once soothing sounds of slapping water on boats now echoed around and under me.

I paused, listening for the footfalls.

Maybe I’d just freaked myself out.

I backed up farther into the darkness, tucking the bright white of my dress behind me. The old-fashioned gas lamp lights staggered along the pier would make me glow like a neon light. I strained my ears for the footsteps, letting minutes crawl by.

Feeling like a fool, I crept forward to get my bearings.

I’d wandered all the way down to the ferry launch area.

I could see the park benches that lined the boardwalk from here.

It was too late for any of the shops and ticket booths to be open.

Was it better to be in the open or head back toward the hotel?

I shut my eyes and took a few deep breaths.

Salem was touristy in the fall months, but in late June?

Not so much. But there was no end to the interest in the witchy lore, especially for Solstice.

However, that concentration of people would be in the cemeteries and newly renovated jail in the heart of the city. Here, on the docks—I was easy pickings.

Idiot.

I knew better.

When I opened my eyes a tall, shadowed figure stood at the mouth of the space between the boats.

A nearby lamp highlighted a cheekbone so high it leaned toward gaunt, but his eyes were a dark void of shadows.

His wide shoulders belied the sharp features, and danger rocketed through my bloodstream like a drug.

My heart raced and my breath stalled at the same time. My gaze darted around, looking for an escape.

Run?

Hide?

Fight-or-flight snapped in my brain like two junkyard dogs over a steak.

His fingers thrummed against his thigh, jet black gloves disappearing into darkness as he stepped forward.

Finally, the flight part of my brain kicked in. I scrambled back, tripping over the pail heavy with liquid. It didn’t budge, knocking me backward. My hands hit the pier first and I rolled so I didn’t snap my wrist. One of the few memories from a self-defense class dented the fog of fear.

The man kept coming—slowly.

My elbow scraped against a ragged edge of a board, but I used the quick flash of pain to push through the panic. My ankle rolled as I got to my feet and I went down again, this time I hit my hip hard. I cried out and took a second to check on the man. He’d come to a stop, a few feet from me.

The fingers thrummed again, a faint bit of light showed the length of his fingers before he tightened them into a fist. My dress caught on a knot in the wood, tearing as I wrenched it free, and finally got to my feet. He kept walking—steady and menacing.

“If you think this is a game, you’re sick!” I screamed. I quickly glanced around but we were very much alone. I darted around the sharp edges of an engine propeller at the back of the boat. I barely felt the blade scrape along my upper arm as I dropped my purse.

It popped open. I grabbed for it, but the keys fell out and jammed between two slats of wood. I tried to pull it free, but the keychain wedged itself between the planks. I stumbled back, my nail ripping away as the keys stayed lodged.

He kept coming, all shadows and silence.

A sob broke free as I scrambled to my feet and darted out onto the main pier, so I had somewhere to run. Surely there had to be someone around with all these boats.

Should I jump in the water?

I was a strong swimmer, but the water was inky dark. God knew what else was in there. It couldn’t be as bad as the threat on two legs. I ducked under one of the railings and darted down one of the gangways that led to the boat launches.

Maybe I could at least find people partying or something.

Anything but the ghostland of empty vessels.

I glanced back to find him at the top of the incline.