Defending Nathan (Prey Security: Undercover Team #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

A world where being a good Samaritan potentially puts you in danger shouldn’t exist.

Twenty-six-year-old Emma Beaumont slowed her car a little as she debated whether it was worth that risk.

There was no denying that the car on the side of the quiet country road looked as though it had broken down. Flat tire, from the looks of it, since a shadowy form was bent over by one of the back wheels.

It was a terrible spot to break down, because the road was a little black spot with terrible cell phone coverage.

Emma knew that because she’d broken down herself out here, at night, a little over a year ago.

She’d tried calling, and calling, and calling, but if she could get any signal at all, the call always failed before anyone could pick it up.

In the end, she’d spent the night in her car, then flagged down a passing motorist in the morning.

The road led to a new estate, but there weren't many amenities there, so people left in the mornings to head into the city for work and school, then returned in the evenings. Outside of those times, the road was like a ghost town.

Which meant she was probably this person’s only hope of not having to spend the night in their car if they couldn’t get their tire changed. Lucky it was summer, and it had been a warm day, so they wouldn't freeze to death like they might have in the middle of winter if a snowstorm hit.

Still …

She was a young woman who had grown up in a family with eight siblings, all girls.

She’d had self-defense and safety tips drilled into her from the time she was old enough to go anywhere alone, even if that was just to the park across the street from their house.

Stopping at night, on a deserted road, to help a stranger, one she didn't even know if they were male or female, was a gigantic violation of every rule she’d ever been taught.

Yet … she’d also been taught to help others, to be kind, to do for others what she’d hope others would do for her. There was no way you grew up in a family of nine kids and didn't learn the value of being a team player.

So, she knew what she was doing.

It was Friday night, so it wouldn't hurt her to get home late since there was no school in the morning.

She hadn't had anything to drink while hanging out with her best friend because neither of them was a drinker, especially not if one of them was going to get behind the wheel of a car. Tomorrow was her chore day, and even if she was a little more tired than usual, she’d still get everything done.

There was no reason, only potential problems, to stop her from helping the poor person with the blown-out tire.

Besides, what were the chances that they were a serial killer?

There were estimated to be fewer than fifty serial killers active in the entire country right now, and one of them probably wasn't broken down on a quiet road an hour outside New York City on a Friday night.

“Don’t invent drama that doesn’t exist,” she murmured to herself as she pulled her car in behind the broken-down one.

How many times had her dad said that in exasperation to her or one of her eight sisters when they were growing up?

How her dad had survived living in a house with his wife and nine daughters and all the estrogen that came with it, Emma would never understand.

Poor dad. Had she thanked him lately for putting up with so much pre-teen and teen angst?

There were no sets of twins in the family, and she and her sisters were all a year apart, so that was a lot of years dealing with drama.

“Maybe I’d better send him a big box of donuts as a thank you,” she said, making a mental note to find the biggest box his favorite store delivered and order some for him in the morning.

Her parents had been saints. Not only had they raised nine girls, but they’d made sure to spend one-on-one time with each of them, fostered individual relationships with them, encouraged their interests, and made them feel loved, wanted, and appreciated.

Definitely needed to order that box of donuts. One of cupcakes for her mom too.

Leaving her engine running because Emma wasn't planning on sticking around, she opened her door. All she needed to do was make sure the person had things under control. If they needed assistance, she’d see if she had a signal to call for help, and if not, she’d keep checking and stop to call a tow truck as soon as she got one.

Shivering, despite the warm summer night, Emma climbed out of her car, aware that this probably wasn't her smartest move. One she definitely wouldn't tell her dad about unless she wanted a lecture on safety and not stopping for strangers on the side of a deserted road at night.

Nothing was going to go wrong.

This would take all of a minute or so, and then she’d be heading home, ready to fall into bed and sleep a solid ten hours as she recovered from a week of teaching a room full of rowdy third graders.

Not that she was complaining. She loved her job, and she knew she was lucky to go to work every day and do something she actually enjoyed, even if some days her kids did drive her crazy.

“Hello?” she called out as she walked toward the car and the figure.

The person stopped what they were doing and turned to look at her.

She couldn’t tell if they were a man or a woman.

They were wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and in the dark it was hard to see a face.

Emma would definitely feel more comfortable if it was a woman, because she’d perceive that to be less of a threat, but she was committed to helping now either way.

“Is everything okay? Do you need any help?” she asked, taking another step forward, but trying to stay close enough to her car that she could bolt to it if anything went wrong.

“Was driving along and my tire just blew up, almost lost control of the car,” the person answered, a man from the sounds of the voice.

“Do you have a spare?”

“Yeah. I'm trying to change it, but I'm not sure I'm doing it right. I can't seem to get the screws to turn. Can't get any signal either, so I can't call AAA.”

“This road rarely has reception,” she said sympathetically.

“I'd help with the tire, but I'm not very good at it, much to my dad’s annoyance. I can never get the lefty loosey, righty tighty part right, no matter how hard I try. Let me see if I have a signal, and I can call for you. If I don’t, I’ll call as soon as I'm back in range and let AAA know you're out here.”

Because she knew it was what her dad would tell her to do, Emma kept her gaze half on the man still kneeling by his car as she pulled her cell phone from her purse.

There were no bars, and she huffed in annoyance.

She hated the thought of the man out there alone in the dark.

Even though the road was mostly deserted this time of night, that didn't mean someone couldn’t come driving along it.

The chances of being hit while on the side of a road were much higher than people realized.

“Sorry, I can't get reception either,” she said, lowering the phone and looking up to find that the man was standing now.

Unease prickled across her skin.

Something felt wrong.

There was no way to describe the feeling, it didn't make sense, and yet there was some sort of deep resonating sense that she’d made a mistake.

“I’ll, uh, hop back in my car, and … drive down the road a bit … should get reception soon, then I can, uh … call you a tow truck,” she stammered, backing up slowly toward her car. She was only about six steps away from it, but it felt like miles.

The man said nothing, and if Emma had wondered whether her feeling was just her own overactive imagination making her see things that weren't there, then this would have sealed the deal.

He had something in his hand.

One of those … whatever tools that you used to loosen screws. The way he held it made her think it was more of a weapon than a tool.

“You have pretty eyes,” he said, the comment coming completely out of left field.

“Umm … thanks?”

“They’re blue, aren't they?”

She nodded, even though she had no idea what that had to do with anything. “Good luck. I’ll call for help,” she blurted out, then turned and darted for her car, no longer willing to pretend that she wasn't scared out of her mind.

She never made it into the car.

Arms wrapped around her chest, dragging her backward. She tried to lift her phone, call for help, but it slipped through her fingers.

Emma kicked, clawed, and screamed.

Only there was no one to hear her.

Something pressed against her face. A cloth soaked in something sickly sweet. She tried to hold her breath, but of course that was only delaying the inevitable.

When her lungs screamed for oxygen, she dragged in a breath, and felt whatever drug the cloth was soaked in seep into her system.

As the world began to fade, her movements became sluggish, her body heavy, and her last conscious thought was that she guessed the odds of stumbling upon a serial killer were far greater than she’d ever realized.

July 30th

10:49 P.M.

A job was a job was a job, but for the first time in a long time, he was feeling like maybe he’d been at this one too long.

Lately, Nathan Solace had felt like he was losing part of himself.

He didn't know what that meant, but he did know that he needed this job. It didn’t matter if he liked it or not, nothing else mattered. This was where he had to be, and this was what he had to be doing, so this was what he was going to do.

“Yo, Nathan.”

Turning, he saw one of the other guys jogging down the hall of the large, converted warehouse complex where they worked. It might be almost eleven at night, but the job they did wasn't a typical nine-to-five.

Anything but.