Chapter 1
Chapter One
Danica jogged up the marble steps of the West Oaks Natural History Museum. A Dua Lipa song blasted through her Air Pods. The salt-scented air filled her with energy, and she paused just outside the entrance to soak up the golden sun.
It’s so good to be back, she thought.
New York was home now, but Danica would always be a California girl at heart.
Unfortunately, an annoying shadow would be following her around on this trip. A glance over her shoulder confirmed that her security detail was still hovering. They’d parked their Range Rover in the circular driveway, right in the red “no-stopping” zone.
Ugh. She’d have to find them a better spot next time. Something less obtrusive.
Her family’s chief of security had insisted the bodyguards pick her up at the Burbank airport and drive her here, which was ridiculous.
They’d caved to her request to connect her phone to the car stereo, but they had clearly not enjoyed her favorite playlist. None of them had cracked a smile. Not even when Levitating came on.
She’d outright refused to let them tag along inside the museum with her. No, thanks.
Danica didn’t have devoted bodyguards in New York, and West Oaks wasn’t New York. There were no photographers stalking her here. No pushy investors clamoring for meetings or access, or journalists angling for a quote, all of which she normally managed just fine on her own.
In West Oaks, she’d be safe and free from distractions. These days, a streamlined work schedule or her morning run were the only things to get her blood pumping. A little sad? Yes. But she had no time to deal with men and all their demands and drama.
But I’m going to check-mark the hell out of my to-do list. Just see if you can stop me.
The glass entrance glided open as she approached. A spacious atrium overlooked the oceanfront beyond. The garage-style doors were open, letting in the afternoon breeze.
A well-groomed man in a tailored suit looked up from the ticketing desk. “Welcome.”
Danica tugged out her Air Pods. “Am I too late for the five o’clock tour?”
“Considering you’re the only taker? Then no, not late at all.” His name tag read Anderson. A curator, according to the profile she’d requested of the staff here. He looked more relaxed than his photo.
She waited for some sign of recognition, and was pleased when Anderson’s smile remained distant, though friendly.
“Perfect.” Danica paid for a ticket, admiring the beige stone of the lobby.
“Shall we?” Anderson picked up an info guide and handed it to her.
“We shall.” She accepted the pamphlet with a smile. “Is anyone going to take over at the desk? In case other visitors turn up?”
“That’s unlikely this late in the day.” Anderson strode across the atrium, gesturing for her to follow. “There’s only one other guest here, and he chose to go self-guided. I much prefer the quiet, to be honest.”
His tie was loose, and she noticed the button at his collar was undone. So he couldn’t be that straight-laced. A good sign. Maybe he’d be easier to work with than she’d thought.
Anderson glanced back at her. “Speaking of visitors, I’m afraid I might have to cut the tour a little short this evening. We’re closing a few minutes early. Big VIP coming.” He didn’t roll his eyes, but she could hear it in his voice.
“Oh? Who’s this VIP?”
“Daughter of William Foster-Grant. The billionaire. Heard of him?”
“I might have.” She worked to keep a straight face. “I take it you’re not a fan?”
“I wouldn’t say that.” They walked along a row of sea creature fossils. “But…”
“But?” She grinned at him encouragingly. “Come on, share.”
Anderson pushed back his shoulders. “His daughter is in charge of his nonprofit foundation. Fancies herself a reformer, which is fine, but it hardly makes her a museum expert. Wants to make this place more interactive. Child-friendly.” His expression conveyed his distaste for that idea.
“You mean, bring it into the twenty-first century?” Had the guy not visited a modern museum lately?
“This museum is about appreciating nature’s past in a serene environment. Soon, it’s going to be nonstop running and screaming and grubby little fingers on the glass.”
“That does sound like a change.”
“You’re more diplomatic than I.”
No kidding, she thought, suppressing a laugh.
They passed by a broad-shouldered man in a dark overcoat, who was the sole other visitor.
He was milling around next to a display of Paleozoic bivalves.
A black ball cap was pulled low over his eyes, but Danica could’ve sworn he did a double-take when his head turned toward her.
Anderson hadn’t recognized her, but she wondered if this guy did.
The man’s jacket collar was up, but she spotted a large tattoo on his neck. A black bird with its wings outstretched and an oddly curved head.
The image was almost menacing. Danica shivered as she looked at it.
The guy didn’t seem like the typical museum-goer, but she figured she was being unfair. If only more people from West Oaks were showing interest in this place.
They headed back into the atrium, where fresh marine air drifted in from the open doors.
How long had it been since her last visit to West Oaks? Five, six years?
She’d been avoiding certain memories, but it was time to set the past aside—so to speak. It was a little ironic to think of letting go of her past while in a history museum.
This would be a small project as far as the Foster-Grant Foundation was concerned, but it had outsized significance for her. Danica had grown up here, and she was finally ready to reconnect with her hometown. She wanted to show off West Oaks at its vibrant best.
In just a few days, she’d get the chance: an invite-only gala for top donors. An event she’d been anticipating for months, and it was almost here.
“Danica? Is that you?” Lindley Colter’s voice rang out across the atrium. “You’re so early! What a lovely surprise.”
The new executive director of the museum walked toward them, stiletto heels clicking.
“Danica?” Anderson choked out, staring at her. “Danica Foster-Grant?”
“Guilty as charged.” She gave him a sheepish smile.
“I am so sorry. I didn’t—I mean, I—”
“Sorry for what?” Lindley asked. She was every bit as well-dressed as Anderson, yet Lindley’s broad smile was disarming. She’d styled her red hair into a sleek bob.
“Just a little mix-up. So good to see you.” Danica gave Lindley a hug. “Anderson’s been showing me around and giving me the insider view. I appreciated his candor.”
He was buttoning his collar, though the poor man looked like he needed more oxygen rather than less.
Danica put a hand on his arm. “I’d much rather get honesty than have you tell me what I want to hear. And if you’re willing, I’d love to explain my vision for the museum in more detail later. I’ll make a believer of you yet.”
“Of course, Ms. Foster-Grant. I’ll just close up the office and the computers. If you’ll excuse me?” Anderson strode toward reception, apparently eager for the excuse to end their conversation.
“What did you do to him?”
Danica laughed. “I might have misled him a little. He didn’t recognize me, and I just couldn’t resist. But now I feel bad.”
She didn’t usually dress the way someone might expect for a billionaire heiress.
Today, she’d worn straight-legged jeans, a lightweight linen blouse, and Converse hi-tops.
Her dark hair was back in a ponytail, her messy bangs falling over her forehead.
Gossip columns would talk about her whatever she wore, so she preferred to use her energy more productively.
Lindley dismissed the concern. “Anderson’s part of the problem around here. No sense of adventure. You and I are shaking things up, and I can’t wait.”
About six months ago, Danica had joined the natural history museum’s board of directors, promising a major infusion of funds from both the foundation and West Oaks donors. Hiring Lindley had been one of their first steps toward transforming this place.
“Will Anderson forgive me if I invite him to dinner?”
“You’re not letting the poor man off the hook?” Amusement danced in Lindley’s eyes.
“Oh come on, I’m not that scary.”
“I know it. But you do have a fearsome reputation. The no-nonsense philanthropist who refuses to compromise, and is just as cutthroat in the nonprofit world as her father is in the corporate one?”
Danica laughed. “You read that Vanity Fair profile? It was a bit over the top.”
“But you looked gorgeous on the cover.”
And nothing like my real self, she thought.
Danica’s attention caught on the other visitor she’d seen earlier. The man in the black ball cap with the creepy neck tattoo. He was standing near the exit talking into a phone.
His face was turned to the side, yet she had the sense that he was watching her. And that he’d just been listening to their conversation.
Was she imagining it?
That shiver from earlier was back, but it had blossomed into a genuine sense of unease. There was something she really didn’t like about this guy. And it wasn’t the weird neck tattoo.
It was the uncanny impression that he was studying her.
His body was tense. Bulky with muscle beneath the overcoat. A coat, though it was hot outside and the patio doors were open.
Just a few minutes ago, she’d been annoyed about having a security detail following her around. But at the moment, she figured a bodyguard’s presence wouldn’t hurt. She texted, asking one of them to come inside.
But the message didn’t go through.
For a moment, she was confused, until she noticed she had no service. Was the museum a dead spot? She checked for public Wi-Fi, but no networks came up. Which was even weirder.
But the guy with the neck tattoo had just been on the phone. If he had service, why didn’t she?
Immediately, her nerves went to a higher state of alert.
When she looked back toward the exit, the man in the ball cap was gone. Danica breathed out with relief.
False alarm.
West Oaks isn’t New York, she thought again, sending off another message to her security so they wouldn’t freak out.
“Should we head to dinner early?” Lindley asked. “I have the latest design renderings for the renovations, and I have the feeling we’ll want some cocktails to celebrate. I can drive us.”
“That would be great. I just have to let my security detail know.”
Danica checked her phone again. Her messages to the security team had finally gone through. She told them she was heading out, and they agreed to meet her by the museum’s back entrance.
Lindley grabbed her things from her office, and Anderson closed up the patio doors.
They went out the back exit into the employee parking lot.
Danica glanced around. “My security team should drive up any minute.” In fact, she was surprised they hadn’t beaten her here.
Then the sound of metal crashing into metal cut through the air.
Lindley grabbed Danica’s arm. “Oh my god. That sounded like a car accident.”
Danica’s eyes searched frantically for the Range Rover, but she couldn’t see the main road from here.
Tires screeched. A white SUV with dark tinted windows came into view, accelerating down the narrow side street.
Something bad was happening. She felt it in her gut.
Danica pushed Lindley and Anderson back toward the museum. “We need to get back inside. Now.”
Lindley kept looking from Danica to the approaching SUV and back again. “But—”
They weren’t moving fast enough. “Come on. Hurry.” Danica’s hand dove into her purse, closing around her canister of pepper spray.
Anderson tried to unlock the door to get back into the museum. His hands were shaking, and he dropped the keys.
She heard the revving of an engine right behind them. Brakes squealed. As she turned, a door opened.
A face in a ski mask reared out of the shadowy interior.
Danica didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate.
She aimed her pepper spray at the now-open doorway of the SUV, hit the trigger, and unleashed a jet into the person’s eyes.
The guy screamed, shielding his face.
“Let’s go!” Danica grabbed Lindley’s arm and pulled the woman away from the SUV. “Anderson, come on!”
She’d drilled kidnapping attempts before. That had to be what they wanted—to get her into the car. But she’d never thought this would actually happen. Her heart felt like it was choking her, beating wildly at the base of her throat.
Danica pushed through the row of decorative hedges, ignoring the scrape of the branches, and emerged on the patio.
The engine revved. The car was probably rounding the building, trying to cut them off via the road on the other side.
Danica looked frantically for a means of escape. They had to get away from the street. That meant going toward the beach.
Dragging Lindley along with her, she raced down the patio steps and into the sand.
“Where are we going?” Anderson asked.
“The water.” They’d swim to get away if they had to. Anything to make it harder for those men to get her into the SUV. “Get rid of your shoes.”
“My shoes?” Anderson whined. “They’re Ferragamo.”
“Then I wouldn’t recommend getting them wet.”
Anderson toed off his loafers. Lindley had already lost her stilettos during their run, and her face was streaked with tears.
As soon as they splashed into the surf, the wail of sirens reached her ears.
Danica looked back and saw no sign of the white SUV. Anderson’s deep tan had gone pale. Lindley seemed like she was in a daze.
A wave swelled, soaking their pants to the knees.
Danica put her arm around the other woman as police vehicles roared down Ocean Lane. And finally, her lungs relaxed enough to take a full breath.