Identical Threat Page 8

  Desmond called the number again.

  “Yeah, but Marty’s stubborn as nails. It’s what makes him a good lawyer.” The call went through. The music started playing in the distance again. “Me telling him to not go over there might have just convinced him to do the opposite.”

  “Would he confront whoever it was lurking?”

  “Same answer.”

  Riley turned around. It made him realize how close they were. The smell of lavender filled his senses.

  “What do you want to do?”

  Dark, entrancing, mesmerizing.

  Riley Stone didn’t realize the power she could conjure with just one even stare.

  It inspired a cocktail of emotions within him. The most potent? Bravado.

  “I’m going to go see who’s been messing with my site.”

  A faint smile tugged at Riley’s lips. She nodded.

  “After you.”

  Desmond opened his mouth to complain; Riley held up her hand. It was mere inches from his chest.

  “I’m going with you. Here.” She opened the purse she’d been wearing across her chest. What she pulled out made Desmond chuckle. He saw his breath mist out in front of him.

  “Pepper spray?”

  “You bet your boots, cowboy. Now let’s get going.”

  Desmond tipped his hat.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Business Boulevard was lit by tall and relatively new streetlamps that stood every hundred yards or so. The construction site had four separate lights that bathed each corner in enough light meant to dissuade any theft or vandalism.

  A lot of good that had done.

  Desmond led the way from the streetlamp’s circle of illumination and past a parked Bobcat at the front of the site.

  “If anyone is on the second or third floors, I can’t see them,” Riley whispered at his side. She was so close again her hair was brushing against his arm and back.

  Distracting.

  But not as much as the unease growing in his stomach.

  Second Wind was mostly just a skeleton of beams and partially constructed walls. There were tarps and stacks of building materials and slight mayhem everywhere. A set of stairs that had been constructed but weren’t finished. It still got workers to the upper two floors. The start of the steps was housed in the section of the first floor that was tucked out of sight from the front of the building.

  In front of them now, on an expanse of constructed exterior wall, was where the graffiti had been before.

  Can’t even win a simple game of hide-and-seek.

  Those words had been painted over, the only part of the wall that was light gray.

  There was no movement near it or them.

  Without a word Desmond called Marty again.

  This time it went straight to voice mail.

  Desmond and Riley shared a look.

  His gut started yelling.

  He should have listened.

  Instead they wordlessly went through the opening and into the first floor. Riley pulled out her phone and switched it to flashlight mode. The new light made shadows skitter over the concrete.

  “Empty.”

  They fanned out across the expanse. Desmond shook his head.

  Where was Marty?

  Where was the person he’d seen?

  Was this some kind of tasteless prank?

  Another jab at Desmond to create a new surge of press?

  “Desmond?”

  He turned around, pulling up his call log as he did so, ready to call the sheriff’s department, but paused when he saw Riley’s expression.

  Wide eyes. Wide, worried eyes. She was pointing to the stairs in the corner.

  “Is that...?”

  Desmond looked to where she was pointing. No one was there but something was on the ground. With soft steps he made his way over, his gut yelling even louder.

  Riley’s light ran across the blood just as Desmond realized what it was.

  “Call 9-1-1.”

  Riley didn’t listen. Instead she angled her phone up the dark tunnel that ran up the stairs.

  “It leads up there,” she whispered. “Marty might be hurt.”

  Desmond caught her hand, the one holding the pepper spray.

  It wasn’t enough to calm his fraying nerves.

  “We don’t know—”

  Something large dropped from the second floor to the dirt across from them, just outside of the first-floor concrete. Riley yelled out in surprise. He tightened his grip around her hand.

  The something grunted.

  Desmond couldn’t believe his eyes.

  That something was a man.

  And it wasn’t Marty McLinnon.

  Chapter Nine

  Desmond took off running. Riley would have been on his heels but she heard something he didn’t.

  It was a shuffling sound.

  And it was coming from the top of the stairs.

  Desmond and the man, who she was assuming wasn’t his buddy Marty, had kicked up dust and were booking it toward the road. Riley wasn’t about to yell for him to come back. She wasn’t about to wait for him either.

  She ran a thumb under the strap of her purse across her chest to the main part of the bag, securing it while tightening her grip around the pepper spray. The light from her cell phone in the other hand made the blood look glossy.

  Riley was careful not to step on it as she took the stairs up two at a time.

  The second floor had three walls. Where the fourth was going to be was open and showed the law offices across the street. The closest streetlamp did a better job of illuminating this floor than the one below it.

  Along with the man standing in the middle of the space.

  Riley was stunned with how well dressed he was. So well dressed, in fact, that it was the first detail she registered. A dark gray suit, three-piece, and shoes that absolutely shone. His hair was dirty blond and combed against his scalp. He had his hands in his pockets like he was waiting for a client to arrive. He even looked at Riley like she was the one who’d come in for the meeting with him.

  One that she had been late for.

  His tone bit like he was chiding her, yet his words were nothing but alarming.

  “Marty McLinnon, husband to one and father to four, is on the third floor of this construction site and battling for his life.” He nodded toward the wall to her left. “If there was a window right there you’d see a section of a support beam attached to a chain. That beam is getting lower and lower because it’s either dragging an unconscious Mr. McLinnon to the edge of the building or slowly pulling his legs out of joint. I’m not sure which is happening but I’m pretty sure if you don’t get up there right now and start cutting through that chain he’s going to be in a bad way.”

  Riley waited for the man to laugh, to say just kidding, and then say, “Hey! I’m Marty McLinnon. Did you see that crazy man jump to the ground floor?”

  But he didn’t.

  Instead he bent down, picked something up off the floor and held it out to her.

  It was a power tool.

  No.

  It was a handheld electric saw. Riley knew because she’d seen her dad use a similar one to do drywall work at their home in Georgia.

  “You’ll need to plug it in but this should cut through the chain,” he added. “Drop the pepper spray and your phone and I’ll give it to you. If not, I’ll throw it off the building and we can hear it break. Just like we’ll hear Mr. McLinnon break if you don’t decide soon.”

  He shook the saw.

  Riley didn’t know the man. Nothing about him was familiar. The light and shadows were playing tricks on her eyes. One second he looked younger than her, in the next he had the nonchalance of a wiser, much older man.

  However, what she wa
s sure of?

  This wasn’t a joke to him.

  Riley dropped her phone and pepper spray. Their thuds against the concrete echoed around the unfinished space.

  “Who are you?” she had to ask.

  The man shook his head. Then he nodded to the stairs.

  “That blood had to come from someone and it didn’t come from me. The longer you’re on this floor, the shorter Mr. McLinnon’s life span becomes.”

  Riley felt like she was having an out-of-body experience. Yet, she ran over to him and took the saw, careful to grab the cord off of the ground.

  “Ticktock, Ms. Stone.”

  * * *

  DESMOND’S LEG WAS HURTING but the man he was chasing also seemed to be favoring one leg over the other. The jump from the second story had no doubt been less than pleasant.

  “Stop,” Desmond yelled again.

  The man didn’t.

  They streaked past Business Boulevard in the direction of the law office’s parking lot. The man in black had enough of a lead that, when he tripped over the curb, he was able to get back up and start running again. Though he had slowed considerably.

  “Stop, dammit!”

  Again, the man didn’t listen.

  He turned so he was running along the back road. That surprised Desmond. If he had been trying to lose someone, he would go into the trees. Yet the man stayed on the road.

  It made up Desmond’s mind.

  He spun around and pulled out his car keys. Hurrying back to his truck, he threw himself inside the cab and turned the engine.

  He couldn’t follow the man into the trees but if he stayed on the road that was something Desmond could work with.

  The tires squealed as the truck reversed. Before popping the gear into Drive he hit Declan’s number on his recent-calls list and put it on speaker. It started ringing. Desmond pressed down the gas.

  “Des, can I call—”

  “We found blood at the construction site and then a man dressed in all black jumped from the second story and took off,” Desmond jumped in. “I’m chasing him now in my truck because he’s sticking to the back road.”

  The man glanced over his shoulder. His eyes widened in the headlights’ beam. He angled off the road and into the grass. Still he didn’t run into the trees.

  “Does he have a weapon?” Declan had become completely focused. His tone was curt.

  “Not that I can tell. But we haven’t seen Marty anywhere and, Dec, I never called in the troops.”

  Declan swore.

  “Hold on,” he said in the next breath. He started talking to someone.

  Desmond was coming up on the man in black. He was continuing to slow down.

  “I’m about to get this guy,” he told his older brother.

  The truck took to the grass and dirt and the small slope down like a champ. Desmond sped up and turned the wheel, kicking up dirt as he went, and then hit the brakes hard.

  The man in black stopped just as abruptly and turned. Desmond realized then that the man had every intention of finally running to the trees, a place he didn’t have the clearance to drive his truck between, but then he tripped again.

  This time he didn’t get back up.

  Desmond was out of the truck in a flash.

  The man pulled himself up into a sitting position. His head was bent over. He was panting.

  Desmond had a lot of questions.

  He started with the most pressing.

  “Where’s Marty McLinnon?”

  The man didn’t get a chance to react.

  They both turned as a scream echoed out across the night air.

  It was Riley.

  And she was yelling for him.

  * * *

  THE CHAIN TORE at her hands.

  “No!”

  Riley pulled with all her might. She was standing between the unobstructed edge of the third floor and the limp body of a man who was sliding to his potential death. The motion had been slow when she’d first gotten to his side, but as she’d looked around for an outlet, he’d made a noise.

  That noise had heralded a truly terrifying sight. One that made her drop the saw and run. Marty’s body had hit something slick covering that section of the floor. Whether it was blood, oil or water, Riley didn’t have the time to find out.

  It had sped up his movement, whatever it was.

  Now Riley was trying and failing to pull the section of support beam up. A foolish attempt. She barely got her hands beneath the chain to pull in the first place.

  Something hit the back of her foot.

  It was Marty’s boot.

  Riley let out a strangled gasp, surprised he’d already made it to where she was.

  A ball of ice exploded in her gut, filling her veins.

  There wasn’t enough room between them and the edge. Riley couldn’t pull the beam up. She didn’t have enough time to find an outlet and cut it. Not with how fast he was sliding now.

  She’d already called for Desmond but he wasn’t there.

  Was she about to watch this poor man go over the edge?

  “No no no no no.”

  Riley abandoned the chain and spun around to focus on a Hail Mary plan. It took a few seconds and was in no way a good idea but Riley didn’t care.

  She unbuckled her belt and flung it off in two seconds flat. Moving catty-cornered to a steel beam already erected, she threw the belt around the metal and buckled it back. Marty’s body kept sliding. She let him until his arm was level with her.

  Riley sat her butt down and put a death grip on her belt. Then she grabbed Marty McLinnon’s arm.

  The tension came shortly after. Riley’s stomach nearly turned as she felt the weight trying its best to pull Marty away. If he had been awake, she had no doubt the pain would have been awful.

  “Come on, come on,” she chanted, having no idea who she was chanting to.

  That’s when she heard the vehicle approaching. Tires skidded to a stop somewhere near the front of the building. Then Riley heard a sound that temporarily pushed the cold from her veins.

  “Riley?”

  It was Desmond.

  “Up here,” she yelled. “Third floor! Hurry!”

  The pull from the beam was getting worse. Riley tried to stay where she was but the pull was too strong. She was starting to slide herself.

  “No!”

  Marty’s arm lifted above his head and she had to move her grip to his wrist. Her nails bit painfully into the palm of her hand as her hold on the belt tightened with the strain.

  Footsteps thundered up the stairs. Riley knew there wasn’t time to explain everything. She craned her neck around to see the bewildered expression of the most handsome man she’d ever known and hoped he knew how to handle an electric saw.

  “Find an outlet,” she yelled in greeting. She could hear the pain in her voice as it started to feel like she was being pulled apart. She couldn’t imagine how Marty felt. “There’s the saw!”

  Desmond, bless him, was quick on the uptake.

  He grabbed the saw off of the ground and ran purposefully toward them, stopping to plug it in.

  A horrible, twisting worry occurred to Riley then.

  What if the cord wasn’t long enough to reach the chain?

  “It’ll reach,” Desmond said, answering her thought without realizing it. He slid across the space between it and the chain. Riley squeezed her eyes shut but didn’t quell her cry of pain.

  A small part of her had hoped the chain was long enough that the beam would hit the ground soon and stop the pull. Yet, it just wasn’t happening.

  The sound of the saw was a beautiful one. The noise of it eating through the chain was magical.

  However, it was a slow process.

  By the time he’d cut through the top part of the lin
k, Riley was struggling. Blood was coming out of the hand holding the belt just as blood was coming out of Marty’s hand as her grip was maxed out on him.

  She felt like a rubber band about to break; her entire body was angled toward the edge.

  If she let go, Marty would only have a foot before he was falling through the air.

  “Hurry,” she yelled. “I can’t hold on much longer!”

  Desmond didn’t respond. It wasn’t like he could say anything to help.

  Riley squeezed her eyes shut again. A few more seconds passed until, in the darkness behind her lids, she realized another horrifying thought.

  The beam was too heavy.

  She was about to let go.

  “I can’t—”

  Before she could finish her sentence, Marty McLinnon’s hand slid out of hers.

  Riley’s eyes flashed open, horrified she was about to watch a man fall to his death.

  What she saw instead was Desmond as he let out a body-sagging exhale, a severed chain between them.

  Marty had finally stopped moving.

  Two baby blues found their way to her. He had questions, which was okay because she had answers. But when he dropped the saw and hurried over to her, all Riley could do was express the immense relief she was feeling.

  “I’m so sorry I left—” Desmond started, but the moment he was within arm’s reach, Riley pulled him down to her.

  He hit his knees with a grunt. She fully realized it probably hurt but then she pushed herself up and against him and did exactly what she thought needed to be done.

  Their lips crashed together with a smack that echoed. Riley threw her arms around the man’s neck like he was a lifeline and she was on the brink.

  The kiss was hard but it unfurled something inside her that she hadn’t realized had been there in the first place. Her unexpected weight against him sent them backward to the concrete she’d now despise forever. Her arms around his neck kept his head from connecting with that same floor.

  Riley ended the kiss as quickly as she had initiated it.

  Then she was lying on top of the man and staring into his eyes.

  “Thank you,” she said, breathless.