to fall asleep. The looks on the uniformed officers’ faces told her all she needed to know. They didn’t believe her. Apparently a black and white did visit the Starlight Beach Inn at 2:45 a.m. to find the beach deserted with no signs of disturbed earth. They claimed the hotel was requesting the webcam footage from their service provider, but it would be at least a week. Without any evidence of a crime, they couldn’t force the issue and subpoena records.
All it took was pulling up her case file for the officers to get that familiar look of pity in their eyes and assure her the search for her attacker was still ongoing. It was no secret she’d had a mental breakdown after the attack, and although she’d given them a full physical description of the man, she’d been unable to tell them about her injury. They told her he’d stabbed her with an acid-dipped blade of some sort.
But she knew the unbelievable truth.
She’d been bitten, and as crazy as it sounded, no human man had pointed teeth like she’d seen that night when he smiled and his forehead contorted, cracked to expose something inhuman beneath.
This was information that would’ve kept her locked in a psych ward, so she remained silent. As the months passed into years, she started to wonder if maybe she was crazy after all.
Tegan leaned back in her La-Z-Boy reading chair, peppering herself with questions. Could her mind have been playing tricks on her when she fired up the webcam? It
But she’d watched that beach hundreds of times in the middle of the night and never saw anyone. Definitely never saw a man bury a body.
Her fingertips traced the line of the fish-hook shaped scar on her shoulder near the base of her neck wishing she could erase the memories and rehabilitate her mind the way she had with her body. She thought she’d put that night behind her.
Until the bastard showed up on the webcam and ripped the wound wide open again.
Yeah, sleep was definitely not going to happen. The threat of seeing him again in her dreams kept her too amped up to sleep. She got up and pulled the small card table to the side of the room. Controlling her breathing, she moved through her martial arts katas. Her focus on each fighting position calmed her, defusing the bomb of panic brewing inside. By the time she reclaimed her peace, sweat soaked the back of her T-shirt.
She wasn’t the same college student from four years ago. She wasn’t a victim, not anymore. And she never would be again.
Tegan pulled her hair back into a ponytail and reached for her laptop. If the police didn’t believe her, she’d hire someone who would. Sitting around hiding was
…
Multiple Google searches, several hours, and ten calls later, she chucked her hair tie across the room in frustration. She either couldn’t afford the PIs she was finding, or they’d heard there was an open case number involved and didn’t want to get anywhere near it. Her gaze drifted to the picture of her folks at the country club. They’d loan her the money in a heartbeat.
But then they’d worry. It wasn’t until a few months ago that her Mom and Dad finally started traveling again. They were supposed to be enjoying retirement, not babysitting their only daughter. If they found out she thought she’d seen her attacker, they’d swoop in and try to take over. Unacceptable. She could handle this. Somehow.
She grabbed the phone again. Another search and she scanned the names until one caught her eye:
Paranormal Investigator? She stroked the mouse key lightly, not ready to commit to clicking. What kind of private investigator admitted to paranormal investigations? Did he think he was some kind of Ghostbuster? People couldn’t possibly hire him to check their house for the dead and haunting, could they?
She leaned back in her chair. This guy could be a waste of time. But she’d already placed more calls than she’d intended—and she was running out of viable options. What did she have to lose?
She made the call, relieved when a receptionist answered. He had a secretary. That had to mean that he took his business seriously—or at least she hoped so—and Tegan did her best not to judge him by the fact he had time in his schedule to meet her that same day. No harm done driving up the coast to San Clemente for a meeting. She didn’t have to hire him. San Clemente was probably a perfect PI location, too, right between San Diego and Los Angeles. He could spy on cheating husbands and wives in either big city.
She closed her computer and got up. If she hurried she could get a shower before she made the forty-five minute drive up the freeway.
…
The building wasn’t what she’d expected. Instead of an office inside a law firm or strip mall, she parked her car in front of a small converted church. At least she assumed that’s what it was by the stained glass windows. There wasn’t a steeple or a bell.
She opened the carved oak door and stepped into the shadowed office. A stylish woman with short black hair chomped her gum behind a desk, stapling papers into manila folders. Glancing Tegan’s way, she stopped stapling for a moment. “Are you Megan?”
“It’s actually Tegan. Like Megan with a
The receptionist popped her gum and shrugged. “Suit yourself. Gabe will be back in a few minutes.”
Stapling recommenced, the pound and grind of bending metal snapping through the space. Tegan glanced up at the high ceilings and took a seat on the long pew opposite the woman’s desk. Time slowed, the rhythmic stapling lulling her into a comfortable trance. Maybe she was more exhausted than she’d realized.
The large door burst open. Tegan shot up from her seat, her feet instinctively moving into a fighting stance. A tall man with broad shoulders, brown hair, and sunglasses blew through the narthex toward the chapel area. His features were striking even though she couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark lenses of his shades. The strong angle of his jaw and the way his hair brushed the collar of his black coat made her pulse jump. He was perfectly mussed somehow, like he’d just rolled out of bed looking like that.
For some reason she’d been imagining him much older. The whole paranormal thing sounded like an old man chasing a silly superstition. This guy was also a little less polished than she’d expected. Judging by the swollen lip and the scrape at the corner of his mouth, he’d had a recent job that had gotten physical.
Her pulse thrummed in an inappropriate response. The fact this guy might know how to fight should
Screw that. The last thing she had time for was a man.
“Martie is my five o’clock here yet?” His voice was deep and a little hoarse. Rough and sexy.
The stapling came to an abrupt halt, and Martie pointed a red, perfectly manicured finger. “That’s her.”
He spun around and tipped his head, peering at Tegan from over his sunglasses. “You’re Megan?”
His light green eyes almost made her forget her own name. “It’s Tegan. Tegan Ashton.”
“Like Megan with a
She nodded, an unexpected smile curving her lips. “Exactly.”
He held out a large hand. She stared at it for a second. This was a business meeting, nothing more. Other than her karate classes, she hadn’t touched a man since the attack.
She forced herself to place her hand inside of his, and he squeezed, giving her a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you. I’m Gabe.”
His fingers brushed her wrist, sliding across her palm as he released her. Almost tender. She’d forgotten how a simple touch could calm instead of threaten. Pressing her lips together, she reminded herself to breathe.
He gestured toward his office. “Come on back.”
…
Gabe took off his coat, doing his best not to wince as the right sleeve skimmed his dislocated elbow. It would heal of course, but it would hurt a helluva lot less if he’d taken the time to reset the joint.
But he didn’t want to be late. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice the odd angle of his elbow.
Offering her a chair, he stepped around his desk to hang his coat, but he kept his dark glasses on. Easier to
