Perfect Target, page 9
"I just drove. I ended up at a beach about ten miles away and I got out and sat on the sand and tried to breathe again."
He found himself believing her story, except perhaps the last part about just going to a beach and sitting on the sand. "You should have called the police," he said. "You were a witness."
"All I saw was the result of the explosion."
"But you were with the senator right before it happened."
"I already told you I wasn't thinking clearly. Can we stop? Please?" she begged. "My head hurts, and I just want to go home. Will you take me home?"
He saw the strain in her eyes. "Yes, I'll take you home." He started the car and pulled back onto the road. As he drove down the hill, he debated his next move. He would take her home, but he wasn't going to leave her alone. Someone had just tried to kill her and as soon as they realized she wasn't dead, they were probably going to try again.
As Beck drove her home, Piper tried to calm down, but that felt like an impossible challenge. Someone had just tried to kill her. And if it wasn't for Beck, they might have succeeded. But why? Was it about Larry, what happened at the yacht? Had she seen something important that she just couldn't remember?
The question went around in her head until she felt dizzy, or maybe that was just the after-effects of her accident. The adrenaline rush was starting to subside and as Beck left the dark hills, heading down the crowded freeway to the familiar sights and lights of Santa Monica, she started to feel a little less afraid.
As they turned down her street, she was relieved to see the paparazzi had gone. They'd probably gotten tired of waiting for her to come back.
"Do you park your van in the garage?" Beck asked. "Is there an open spot I can use?"
"Yes, but you don't need to park. You can just drop me off."
"I'm parking, and I'm coming in," he told her flatly.
She wanted to argue, but after what had just happened, that seemed stupid. But she still felt wary, because she had a feeling that Beck Murray could be dangerous, too. She wanted to trust him because he'd saved her life. He'd also been kind and compassionate, talking her out of her panic, and he'd literally pinned her to the ground, using his body to protect hers. Of course, she would like him for that, but it would be too risky to trust him completely, especially with secrets that belonged to her friends. She needed to be careful. She needed to remember that he was a federal agent, and she'd broken some laws.
"What's the code?" he asked.
She gave him the code as he hopped out of his vehicle and opened the garage, then got back into the car. Once they had parked inside, he motioned for her to stay behind him as they entered her home from the garage.
She lived in a two-story, two-bedroom townhouse on a bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. She'd bought it when she was twenty-one years old, and it had always felt like her safe harbor, but tonight the dark shadows and the quiet made her nervous.
Her tension increased when Beck took out a weapon before entering the kitchen. She stayed close behind him, barely breathing as she followed him from room to room. It was hot inside. There were no windows open, and she'd left off her air conditioning. But everything looked exactly the way she'd left it.
They went up the stairs together, checking her room and the guest room before Beck seemed satisfied and put his gun away. Blowing out a breath of relief, she moved down the stairs and into the living room, throwing open the double glass doors that opened onto her deck.
"Hold on," he said.
"There's no access to the deck except from this door."
"Nothing from the outside?"
"No." She stepped onto the deck, the crash of the waves instantly soothing her. She moved over to the rail and glanced out at the ocean, the white water sparkling in the moonlight. There were only rocks and water at the bottom of her bluff. No beach for a quarter mile. Two tall fences on either side of her property prevented the neighbors from looking in.
Beck moved around the deck to check things out, then came back to her. "Magnificent view and very private."
"It's the reason I bought this place when I was twenty-one years old. I needed space where no one could sneak up on me or stand on the beach and take a picture. Of course, I can't hide from helicopters or drones, but in recent years, that became less of a worry." She let out a breath. "That might change now."
"Your name is definitely out there after the senator's death."
"I know. My former agent is getting interview requests. He and my mother think this is a perfect opportunity to restart my career."
"That's a little cold."
"Well, they're both cold. They'd have no problem stepping over a dead body to get ahead."
"But you would?" he questioned.
"Yes, I would." She let out a sigh. "But they're not wrong about the renewed interest in me. The producer whose party I catered tonight suddenly wants me to read a script. All the doors that once shut in my face are suddenly open again."
"Because Larry Brixton died, and you were the last one to talk to him." He gave her a thoughtful look. "Do you realize you just gave me a motive?"
"A motive?" she asked in confusion. "Do you really think I would blow up a yacht in order to get my career back on track? A career I walked away from? That's ridiculous."
"Maybe, but it sounds like you're having second thoughts about walking away."
She wanted to say she wasn't, but she couldn't, because she might have to work whatever offers were coming her way, and she couldn't afford for him to be suspicious about that. "I don't know what I'm thinking. My head is spinning. I'm exhausted and I'm filthy and I just want to take a shower. You can go home now. I'm safe. I'll put the alarm on."
"Your security system is a joke."
"No, it's not."
"Yes, it is. It needs to be upgraded."
She frowned. "You're just trying to rattle me."
"Someone ran you off the road, Piper. I'm asking you to take this seriously."
"I am taking it seriously. But I'm safe here." She really wanted to be safe in her home. In fact, she wanted to be safe everywhere. She wanted this nightmare to be over, but it kept getting worse.
"Well, you'll be safe tonight, because I'm going to stay here until I can set up protection for you."
"Protection? What do you mean?"
"Security outside here and your bakery, someone to take you to work and back. I'm sure you're not unfamiliar with the concept of having a bodyguard. In fact, if you have someone you've worked with previously, we can check them out."
"I don't want any of that. I just want to live my life the way I was living it."
"That won't happen until we figure out who blew up the senator's yacht."
"Then maybe you should work on that instead of following me around."
"I followed you because of what happened to the security guard, and you're lucky I did." He gave her a hard look. "I'd like you to trust me, Piper. Tell me the truth."
"I have told you the truth."
He shook his head. "I think you've told me some of the truth."
"Well, I can't make you believe me."
"What happened to Juliette?"
The abrupt change in subject sent a shiver down her spine. "Why—why are you asking me about her?"
"Because I am."
She swallowed a growing knot in her throat. He knew something, but she didn't know how much. She had to fight the temptation to open up. She wasn't the only one involved and trusting a cop hadn't worked for her before or ever. She settled for the public part of Juliette's story. "Juliette committed suicide almost a year ago. She OD'd on pain pills."
"I'm sorry. What was your relationship with her?"
"We met when we were thirteen. She was an actress, too. We both had domineering mothers. We bonded over trying to escape from them as often as possible. I was better at it than Juliette. She would feel guilty much faster than I would. She was a very sweet, kind person, who trusted too easily."
"She was on the yacht that caught fire. You asked me to save her, and I did. But when I found her and I asked her what happened, she stared at me like she wanted to tell me, but then two other people came over, and she just muttered something about a candle and smoke. While the EMTs were checking her out, I went back to find you, but you were gone. My jacket was lying on the ground. Did something happen on that yacht?"
Temptation pulled at her again. She had to resist. "A candle started a fire. That's it."
"Sticking with that, huh?" he asked in a tone filled with disappointment.
"You should concentrate on finding Larry's killer. That's what's important now. The two events are not connected."
"Except by you."
"That's coincidence."
"I don't believe in coincidence."
"Whatever. I don't want you to stay here. I can take care of myself."
"You think you can take care of yourself better than a federal agent? No way. You're not staying here alone. I won't let someone get to you on my watch."
"Why do you care?" she asked, surprised by the passion in his tone.
"Because I do. I risked my life to save yours tonight, and I don't want that to go to waste. I'll stay downstairs. I won't get in your way, but I won't leave until I've made sure you have other security."
She could see the determined glint in his eyes. "You're a man who always gets his way, aren't you?"
"I am. But my way will keep you safe. So, you're welcome."
"I didn't thank you."
"You were thinking it," he said with a smile.
Her heart flipped over at that smile. He was dark and moody a lot of the time, but when he turned on the charm, he was pretty damn sexy—another problem she didn't need.
" My being here is in your best interest," Beck added.
"Do you know how many men have tried to tell me what was best for me? Do you know how many people have told me I could trust them and then betrayed me?"
"No," he said, losing his smile as he met her gaze. "How many?"
"Too many to count. The only side I'm on now is mine. I don't believe you're just trying to protect me, either. You want something from me. Everyone always wants something from me."
"What I want, Piper, is to make sure you don't get hurt and that no one else does, either."
She looked him straight in the eye. "Now, who's lying?"
Chapter Ten
Beck sucked in a breath at her challenging statement and words that hit a little too close to home. "I could use a drink," he said. "What about you?"
"More than you could imagine," she muttered. "But I don't have any alcohol in the house. I've been sober for almost four years."
"Really? That's impressive." She'd surprised him again.
"I don't think getting back to a normal state in life is impressive, but that's where I am."
"What made you decide to get sober?"
"So many things. I doubt you could understand. You seem like a very strong, disciplined person."
"Let's talk about it over some…milk. Do you have milk?"
"You drink milk? Are you twelve?"
He smiled. "It's good for you. It also goes well with cookies, so I would think you'd always have some milk handy."
"I've never been a fan, even with cookies. I have orange juice, sparkling water or tea. I will offer you a glass on one condition."
"What's that?" he asked warily.
"You've been asking me questions nonstop. I get to ask you some questions before I answer any more of yours."
“What kind of questions?”
“Very personal," she said. "Take it or leave it."
"Well, I am thirsty, so I'll take it." He hoped he wouldn't regret that decision as he followed her back into the house.
In the light of her kitchen, he got his first really good look at Piper, and he frowned at the bruises on her face and across her collarbone where the seatbelt had pinned her against the airbag. She looked battered and exhausted.
"You should sit down," he told her.
"I will in a second." She filled two glasses of sparkling water and handed him one. Then she moved into the dining area and sat down at the table. She took a long sip and let out a sigh. "I was thirsty, too."
"You should have gone to the hospital."
'There's nothing wrong with me."
"You need to look in the mirror."
"Thanks, but I'd rather not." She put a tentative hand to her face and winced. "I felt like that airbag punched me."
"It did. It also saved your life."
"I thought you were taking credit for that. Didn't you consider waiting for the firefighters to arrive?"
"Not even for a second. You were in trouble."
"I was trying to stay on the road, but it was so narrow, and I had to keep speeding up…" Her voice trailed away as she took another drink.
"Did you see who was following you?"
Piper shook her head. "No. I think it was a man. He had a baseball cap on, but his lights were blinding me. You said you got his license plate. That means you can find him, right?"
"My team is on it. I texted them from the scene."
"Good." She pulled the band out of her hair, letting the soft blond waves fall loosely around her shoulders.
His breath stalled in his chest as the golden strands caught the light. As her light-blue eyes met his, he felt a heat run through his body. Even exhausted and bruised, there was something spectacularly pretty about her face: her wide-set eyes framed by long lashes, her soft, full lips, even the tiny trio of freckles on the bridge of her nose. She'd once been dubbed the pretty girl next door. Then she'd turned into the wild girl next door. Now, he didn't really know what she was, except that she was beautiful, vulnerable, and brave.
Of course, she could also be complicit in the murder of a US senator. He couldn't forget that, but he was having all kinds of feelings for this woman, none of which were professional. He should have already called another agent to watch over her. That would have been the smart thing to do.
He could still do it. He could leave right now.
He just didn’t want to.
"You're staring," she murmured.
"So are you," he returned because her gaze hadn't left his.
"You're trying to figure me out."
"Aren't you doing the same thing?" he challenged.
"Maybe I am. Why are you so focused on me, Beck? I wasn't the only one who was at the yacht yesterday. Why didn't you go warn the steward? Why me?"
"Because we have a history."
"Five minutes seven years ago isn't a history."
"It was a significant five minutes."
"I'm surprised you even remember it. You must have rescued a lot of people in your life."
"Well, you stood out." He rested his arms on the table. "I was shocked when I pulled you out of that water. I'd seen you a million times on television and there you were. It seemed impossible."
"So that's why you remember me? Because I was famous."
"And terrified. The look in your eyes—it was haunting. You begged me to help you, to find your friend, to save her. I said I didn't see anyone else in the water. You told me she wasn't in the water, but she wasn't safe, not on that boat."
She paled at his words. "I don't remember saying that."
"Well, you did."
"I don't want to talk about that night anymore."
"You can trust me, Piper. I just want to know the truth."
"The truth, huh? Well, here's a truth. That night someone took photos of me sitting on the dock with your jacket around my shoulders and sold them to the press. I looked like a drunken, drowned rat. My agent talked to some of his friends in the media. He said their source was someone from the police department."
"And you think it was me?" he asked in astonishment.
"I don't remember seeing any other cops around."
"There were plenty of other cops around, and I didn't take any photos of you. I went to save your friend."
"That's what you say, but someone used those photos to start a smear campaign against me. The wild child had finally gone too far. Every day there was a new story about me, other damning photos. By the end of the year, people were suggesting I be involuntarily committed because I was psycho. If Larry hadn't wanted to quit The Carmichaels, I would have been written off the show. After that, I couldn't buy a part in a dog food commercial."
"I'm sorry that happened, but I didn't sell you out. I didn't take any photos, and I went to the detective in charge of the investigation the next day. Spalding told me he contacted you, and your story matched everyone else's. A candle fell over and lit the curtains on fire."
She stared back at him. "That's not what I told him."
"What did you tell him?"
"It doesn't matter anymore. That detective didn't want to help me. He wanted to shut me up."
"Why?"
"Because…" Her voice trailed away, and she drew in a breath. "I told him I was assaulted on the yacht."
He felt sick at her words. "You were assaulted? By who?"
"I don't know. I was drinking, but I wasn't that drunk. Someone had to have put something in my drink, because I suddenly felt sick, and everything was blurry. I went looking for my friend Juliette. I wanted her to help me. I thought I heard her crying. I opened the door to one of the staterooms and staggered inside. She wasn't there, but this man came in after me and shoved me down from behind. I couldn't see his face. My head was buried in the bed pillows. He started ripping at my clothes. He was so strong, so aggressive."
She drew in a shaky breath, then continued. "I knew I had to fight. I grabbed what was closest to me, and it was a candle. They were all over the yacht that night. I threw it at the window, and it hit the curtains. The flames shot up and the smoke alarm went off, and the guy took off. I ran for the door, but I could barely see through the smoke. I made my way up the stairs. There were people yelling, and I was terrified that the man who had just attacked me would grab me again, so I jumped in the water. It was so cold. It paralyzed me for a minute, but it also shocked me, made me feel more alert. I started swimming, hoping I could make it to shore. Luckily, we were coming back into the harbor, so the dock wasn't that far away, but it felt like it was miles away." She drew in another ragged breath, her face even more pale than it had been before. "That's what happened on the yacht. That's what I told Detective Spalding. But he said since I couldn't identify my attacker, and because I had run away, it had been too long since I would have been drugged for it to show up on a test. There was nothing he could do."
