Chapter 24
Asmall smile curved Emily’s lips as she folded a shirt and tucked it into her suitcase. She hadn’t been able to wipe the smile from her face all morning.
For the first time in her life, she felt free. The kind of freedom that could only come from making all her own decisions and knowing that no one would dictate what she could and couldn’t do ever again.
Ryan would arrive in an hour to take her to his house, and she already felt a dizzying sense of excitement. Because she planned to stay there. Not for a night or a week…she was moving in with him. He’d asked when he’d dropped her off last night, and her yes had been immediate. Like a reflex.
And it was her choice. To most, that was such a normal thing. Not to her. This was new. And it was far overdue.
She grabbed another shirt from the laundry basket.
And the second-best part of her morning…she wasn’t being sued.
The producer of her next movie had called. He’d heard about what was happening in Deep River. The attacks. The injury that had landed her in the hospital. And he’d agreed that she wouldn’t be in the right head space to complete the film.
It all just felt so easy. But maybe after all the hard she’d been through, she deserved a bit of easy.
“Knock knock.”
She looked up to see Polly leaning against the doorframe. “Hey.”
“You look happy.” Polly stepped into the room, scanning the suitcase and clothes.
“I’m staying. That makes me happy.”
Polly’s smile softened. “I mean, we love having you here. Ryan loves having you here.”
“Maybe you should pinch me just to make sure I’m not dreaming. Because in what world did he and I actually find each other again and make this thing between us work?”
“In this world.”
She looked at the keys in Polly’s hand. “Going out?”
“Yeah, we need to feed Saint before we both head to work. We can wait until Ryan gets here if you want.”
She shook her head. “No, go. I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay. Everything’s locked up. Food and coffee’s in the kitchen.” She took a step toward the door.
“Polly.”
She turned toward her again. “Yeah?”
“Thank you. For letting me stay, I mean hide out, here.”
“That’s what friends do.” Polly winked before heading off.
Friends…because she had friends now. Not the kind who smiled to her face and spoke to reporters behind her back. The real, genuine type.
A text came through on her phone.
Ryan: Sorry, running late, only just getting back from my run. I’ll jump in the shower and be there in thirty.
Emily: You know, I really thought you’d be breaking a few speed limits to get me to yours. At least rushing a little.
Ryan: Thirty minutes to shower and get to you isn’t rushing?
Emily: I don’t think there’s enough urgency.
Ryan: How does twenty-five minutes sound?
Emily: Better.
Ryan: Twenty?
Emily: Better again.
Ryan: You drive a tough bargain, Prior.
She chuckled as she pushed the phone into her pocket and packed the last of her things.
She didn’t have a lot here. A few items were still at Ryan’s.
Some others were in her trailer. At least she’d cleared everything from the inn.
The room was still booked in her name, but she didn’t plan to go back, especially not with her mother in the room beside hers.
What would her mother say when she found out Emily wasn’t being sued? Would she be annoyed? Would she go so far as to step in and demand all parties uphold the contract?
After everything that had happened over the last couple of months, nothing would surprise Emily anymore.
She was just closing her suitcase when a knock sounded.
She frowned. Had that come from the front of the house or the back? It kind of sounded like the back.
It couldn’t be Ryan, could it? Had he actually broken all the speed limits to get to her this fast?
No. Less than ten minutes had passed. That was impossible.
She stepped down the hall and checked the peephole of the front door first.
Nothing.
Quickly, she moved to the back of the house and carefully checked the window beside the door.
Again, no one was there.
Frowning, she stepped back, the fine hairs on her arms standing up at the eerie resemblance to both the scene in the movie and the night at Ryan’s house.
She returned to the guest room, pulling her phone from her pocket as she moved to call Ryan, but before she could step through the bedroom door, a thump sounded from behind a closed door at the end of the hall.
She froze, heart jumping into her throat.
Quickly, she texted Polly.
Emily: You left, right?
Polly: A few minutes ago. Why?
The creak of a floorboard sounded.
Her skin chilled, and for a second, she couldn’t move. That was when the door opened.
All the blood drained from her face at the sight of the pale blue mask. The long black cloak.
And the knife.
Fear glued her feet to the floor.
Then the masked person stepped forward once.
Twice.
Move.
On the third step, she forced her body into action and ran. She made it halfway to the front door before a hand shoved her in the back. Her foot caught. She hit the floor hard, the breath leaving her chest in a sharp burst.
Fingers wrapped around her ankle.
She turned her head in time to see the knife fly back, then plunge down.
She gasped and kicked her other foot, hitting the asshole’s wrist and knocking the knife out of their hand.
The grip on her ankle loosened just enough for her to push to her feet. The front door was so close. She wrapped her fingers around the handle.
Before she could unlock it, punishing fingers gripped her hair and pulled her head back.
The sharp edge of the knife hovered over her throat. She didn’t move. She didn’t breathe.
One flicker of motion and—
Someone pounded on the door.
The knife touched her neck, a sting of pain, the smallest slice of skin. She whimpered.
Another knock. “Emi? You there?”
Ryan.
His name had barely registered in her mind before her head was shoved hard against the wood.
She cried out and dropped to the floor.
Ryan slipped behind the wheel of his truck and started toward Polly’s house. He’d had possibly the shortest shower of his life, because fuck, he was excited to see her. Not just see her, but take her to his house. To their home.
He’d already done a boxing session with the bag in his basement, followed by a run, all in an attempt to chase away the pent-up energy.
It hadn’t worked.
If he’d had his way, he’d have taken Emily home last night. But it had been late. She’d been tired. And she’d still needed to pack.
He’d just started the engine when a text came through.
Polly: Emily isn’t answering my call. Are you almost at my house or should I go back?
He frowned as he hit Polly’s number, pulling onto the road. “Why would you go back? You think something’s wrong?”
“She texted and asked if I’d left, which is weird because I said goodbye before leaving the house. I said I did, and asked why. She didn’t respond, and now she isn’t answering my calls.”
He pressed his foot harder to the gas. “I’ll be there in two minutes.”
He hung up and called Emily. Three rings in and he knew she wasn’t answering his call either.
What the fuck was going on? He’d just been texting her.
He took a hard right, the tires of his truck squealing.
Was she just distracted? Or was it something else? The thought made his stomach coil.
Another right, then a left.
When he reached the street, too much time had passed.
He slammed the truck to a stop outside Polly’s house, took his Glock from the middle console, and raced up the steps.
He banged on the wood.
Open the door, Emi. Show me you’re safe.
A couple of seconds passed. Then a couple more.
He knocked again. “Emi? You there?”
A thump against the door, followed by a cry, had him flinching.
Without hesitation, he took off his jacket, wrapped it around his elbow and punched through the window beside the door. Glass shattered.
He reached inside and flicked the lock.
He’d barely stepped in before he saw her.
Emily. On her stomach. On the floor. Unmoving.
He dropped to her side, sweeping his gaze around the room, clocking that the space was empty before looking back to Emily. “Emi, can you hear me? Where are you hurt?”
“I…I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” When she rolled to her back, he growled. There was already a bump on her forehead and a small cut on her neck. “Where are they?”
“I don’t know. They shoved me and ran. I think they came in through a spare bedroom at the end of the hall.”
His gaze whipped up to the half-open bedroom door.
Footsteps sounded at the front of the house, yanking his attention back to the door. He lifted his Glock just as Joel stepped inside, closely followed by Polly. She gasped before kneeling beside Emily.
Joel’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the house, his own Glock already in hand.
“Stay with her,” Ryan growled, pushing to his feet. He raced to the end of the hall to see the bedroom window was open.
He jumped out and scanned the yard.
Empty. Worse, the fencing was low enough that the asshole could have entered through any of the neighboring yards.
Son of a bitch.
He was just turning back when he saw a small object on the ground beneath the window. He bent to pick up a hairpin.
This was what they’d used to pick the window lock. Did that make the assailant a woman?
He climbed back through the window. Before returning to Emily, he did one quick sweep of the house.
No intruders.
In the living room, Emily was on the couch, a small ice pack to her head, while Polly cleaned her neck.
“Ward should be here any second,” Joel said quietly. “Find anything?”
“Just this.” He held up the pin.
He frowned. “This was a woman?”
“Not sure.” He crossed the room and knelt in front of Emily. “Are the cut and the bruise your only injuries?”
She nodded, but the move was jerky.
He cupped her cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t break in the second I got to the door.”
“You didn’t know.”
The second she didn’t answer his call, he should have known. “What happened?”
Before she could respond, an engine sounded from the front of the house.
“That was quick,” Joel said under his breath.
Ryan stood. They didn’t have to wait long for Ward. He stepped into the house, a young male deputy behind him.
“Hi there. I heard we’ve had some trouble.” He looked around the living room, then down the hall. “Is the house clear?”
“Yes,” Ryan said between gritted teeth. “He’s gone.”
“You let him go?”
Did the asshole really just ask that?
Luckily for Ward, Emily spoke before he could give the guy a piece of his mind. “Would you like to take my account of what happened?”
“Sure.” He tilted his head toward his deputy. “Take notes.”
Emily went through everything, from the first knock at the door to Ryan’s arrival. Ryan hated every word. Every fucking one.
Someone had broken in. Attacked her with a knife. What would have happened if he hadn’t arrived when he did? Would they have killed her?
They could have. They’d had a fucking knife to her throat.
Shit, he needed to hit something.
“And is this some scene from that movie?” Ward asked, almost looking amused.
“Yes.” There was no hesitation from Emily. “There’s a scene where the killer attacks the heroine in her own home. Preston arrives at the door and the killer shoves her and runs.”
“And she doesn’t die?”
“No. She doesn’t.”
The sheriff nodded. “Guess you have no idea who did this?”
She shook her head. “They were about the same height as me. That’s all I know.”
“Rules out these guys then.” Ward chuckled, but no one laughed with him. “So it might be a female.”
“Maybe. They kind of smelled…floral.”
Ryan held out the pin. “Found this by the open window outside.”
Ward nodded. “So, female.”
As Ward turned to the deputy and told him what to note down, Ryan caught the flicker of Emily’s brows. The way she looked into space like she was deep in her head.
He lowered in front of her and touched her thigh. “What is it?”
“We’re getting to the end of the script. Everything’s happening in the exact order it does in the movie.”
The room silenced. Even Ward quieted.
It was Polly who asked, “What comes next?”
“Preston’s character dies.”