Chapter Fifteen #2
She frowned, her mind torn between a chance at Henry’s beloved books and waiting for Gabe.
Andrew was not the enemy. He was an Alder by blood, half raised by Henry, who came with old-world manners and the kind of quiet philanthropy people like her only read about.
The decision formed in her mind almost immediately. “I’ll call an Uber.”
“If that’s easier. I’ll see you soon then.”
She ended the call and hurried to the kitchen to search for a pen and paper to scribble a note for Gabe.
She quickly wrote him a note—the second of what would be many in their relationship.
After she signed her name, she drew a wreath around it.
It wasn’t as artistic as she wanted it to be—her sister got the artistic genes—but the little hearts encircling her name added the personal touch she always wanted to leave behind.
She propped the note on the table where Gabe would see it the second he walked in, then called for an Uber and grabbed her bag and jacket.
Her chest fluttered with anticipation. The thought of all those books…
hers. More than things she loved, those books were pieces of her friend.
More parts of him she didn’t expect to keep.
The Alder house looked different against a flat, gray sky. Less nostalgic, more imposing. The branches of the front trees had spring buds that looked like barnacles on the cold branches that clawed upward.
Andrew opened the door before she even finished climbing the steps.
“Felicity.” His voice oozed warmth. “Come in.”
She stepped inside, unbuttoning her coat. “Thank you for inviting me back. And for thinking of me.”
“Of course.” He stepped up behind her to ease her coat off her shoulders, reminding her so much of Henry that she got a little teary-eyed. “Let me take your coat. We’ll set it by the stairs.”
“Wait—my phone’s in the pocket.” She reached for it.
He smiled in that same easy way. “You won’t need it. We’re just going to look at some dusty old books. You’ll be in and out before you know it.”
A prickle in her belly came with Gabe’s warning tone in the back of her mind. He would be suspicious of Andrew. Of her being here. Of her going off without her phone.
But Andrew already had his hand on her elbow, guiding her down the hall.
“I thought the library was the other way.”
He shot her a charming smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “You only saw a portion of my uncle’s collection before you ran off yesterday. You’re not going to believe what he has in the study.”
The paneled wood study door was half open. Through the crack, she spotted the bookshelves—floor to ceiling—and her heart skipped.
Andrew led the way, and Felicity stopped in her tracks as her gaze fell over what had to be Henry’s desk. A worn leather chair was scooted up to it, and every artifact on the desk from the leather blotter to a small photo frame left her heart aching for her friend.
Then her gaze fell on the corner of the big mahogany desk. On the battered, leather-bound journal.
The journal Henry sent in the box of books.
The journal stolen from her car.
She froze, ice in her veins.
“Where did you get that?” she whispered.
His gaze dropped to the journal, then slid back to her face with disconcerting interest. “You’re smart. You figure it out.”
“You stole it.” The words tasted of metal. “From my car. Parked behind my shop. In Willowbrook.”
He shrugged as if it were an errand, not a violation. “I know about his bonds. You have them now.”
Her heart pounded her ribs so loud she wondered if Gabe could hear it—wherever he was.
If he was even at the airport.
Panic clawed up her throat.
Andrew laughed softly. “You think I didn’t know what was in that safe-deposit box?
My uncle isn’t going to die and leave me shortchanged.
I know he kept the key in a book. He shipped books out to a lot of places.
Some museums, some libraries that he donated to regularly. Some old friends.” His eyes narrowed.
She backed up a step. He advanced a step in response.
“I found out what was sent and where,” Andrew continued as if they were chatting about the weather.
“It wasn’t that hard. Tracing shipment confirmations from his emails, following the tracking numbers.
I saw the name of your store. My uncle thought he was being smart sending his books to a bookstore.
” He tapped his temple with a fingertip.
“He thought he’d throw me off. But I’m smarter. ”
Bile bubbled in the pit of her stomach.
“I had to break into a lot of houses to find all the things he shipped out to friends. Then I asked myself why he’d ship to a store. That’s when I realized he sent them to you.” He smiled, small and sharp.
Felicity’s mouth had gone dry. “How—” Her voice gave out. “How many houses did you break into?”
He sighed, almost theatrically. “More than I’d have liked. You wouldn’t believe how many friends my uncle sent books to.”
Her stomach lurched.
Gabe was right about Andrew. A sick, dizzying wave rolled through her.
She backed toward the door. “I think I should go.”
He moved faster than she expected. His hand clamped around her wrist, fingers biting into her skin. She gasped, stumbling.
“Let me go!” She tried to yank free, but his fingers tightened, bruising under his grip. “Andrew, you’re hurting me—”
“I don’t have time for delicate feelings, Felicity.” His veneer of charm cracked clean through. “You have something that belongs to me. The key, if you please.”
He shoved her hard toward the chair Henry used to occupy. The place where he took phone calls and sat penning notes.
And writing in that journal.
She tried to twist away, to kick out, anything, but he was stronger, fueled by a long-simmering desperation.
“Sit!”
She didn’t.
He shoved her down. The impact rattled up her spine.
She tipped her jaw. “My boyfriend knows where I am. He’s ex-military. He won’t—”
He pulled zip ties from his pocket. “Your boyfriend won’t be coming for a while.”
Panic swelled in an endless wave, swallowing her.
He grabbed her wrists and yanked them behind the chair. The plastic cinched around her skin, biting, unforgiving.
What had he done to Gabe? That text, the trip to the airport to pick up a veteran…was it really just a trap to get her alone?
Hot tears burned her eyes. “Henry wouldn’t want this. He wouldn’t—”
“Henry wanted what was best for his family,” Andrew snapped. His anger was raw, as sharp as a wild animal. “But toward the end, he started doubting me. Hiding things. Making plans that didn’t include me. I corrected that.”
Cold sliced through her. “What did you do?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
Oh god. What was this man capable of?
Gabe.
Her heart thudded so hard she thought it might break her ribs. She was in love with Gabe. The thought of losing him now that she’d found him pulsed brighter than the terror of being tied up by a madman.
“Please. Whatever you think you’re going to do to me…you don’t have to.”
He circled the chair, moving into her line of sight again. There was no pretense of warmth in him now, just cold calculation.
“You have something I want. And I have something you want.” An evil smile stretched his lips into an ugliness that made her frantic.
“Your boyfriend. If you want to save him, give me the bonds. It’s that simple.”
Her vision tunneled. Gabe at the airport, waiting for a man who didn’t exist. Gabe realizing too late. Gabe walking into God knew what.
“Where are they?” His voice was low and controlled. “You opened the bank box.”
This wasn’t about money that would save her bookshop. Henry didn’t want Andrew to have the bonds.
“Where are the bonds? Last chance. Do you want your Marine bleeding out in an airport parking deck?”
The image of Gabe surrounded, outnumbered—made bile sting her throat.
She broke.
“They’re with my financial advisor. Thomas Goldburg. Downtown. He has everything.”
Satisfaction flickered through Andrew’s eyes. “There we go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He leaned in, so she could see the light brown flecks in his irises, so similar to Henry’s that it made her sick. “You better hope I come back with those bonds.”
He moved behind her. Another zip tie slipped across her ankles this time, wrenching her legs together. She bit back a cry.
He crossed the room in quick strides and flicked off the overhead light, leaving her in the dim, gray afternoon light slanting through the windows. The door shut.
A lock clicked.
Felicity fought to control her breathing and the wild racing of her heart. She tried to loosen the zip ties, but only managed to burn her wrists and ankles. The plastic didn’t budge.
“Gabe,” she whispered into the quiet room. “Please be okay. Please be okay. Please…”