His 7-Day Fiancée. Gail Barrett
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in his seat. “We had a murder case recently—a woman named Candace Rothchild.You might have read about it in the news.”
“Yes.” She’d read up on the sensational case after she’d met Luke.
“She was Natalie’s sister,” he added.
“Oh.” Amanda shifted her gaze to the other woman. “I’m sorry.”
Natalie nodded. A pained look shadowed her eyes. “The night she was killed, Candace was wearing a diamond ring, a family heirloom we called the Tears of the Quetzal. We never found it, so we assumed it was lost. But we’ll have to rethink that now.”
Amanda frowned. “You think my note is related to that ring?”
“I think we have to consider that possibility, yes.”
“But I just moved here. How could I possibly be involved?”
“That’s what we need to find out. And it might not be related. But we can’t rule it out, especially since the man who held you up demanded a ring. And that note is similar to the one my father received.” She turned her head, spoke to one of the men. “Get that note to Lex Duncan at the FBI, will you?”
Amanda’s head whirled. She gaped at the nodding men. Surely they were joking. She was tangled up in a diamond theft? It didn’t make any sense.
She gave her head a sharp shake, tried to recall the facts of the case. From what she’d read, Luke had hosted a jewelry convention in his casino a few weeks back. Celebrities from around the globe had attended the glitzy event—including the casino heiress Candace Rothchild. Later that night she’d been murdered, her ring stolen. The priceless diamond ring—rumored to be under a bizarre curse promising the wearer love at first sight—had never been found.
Luke had originally been a suspect, although he’d later been cleared of the crime. She cut her gaze to his harsh profile, noted the rigid line of his jaw. No wonder he’d come here. He was as involved in this case as she was.
She pressed her hand to her throat, still unable to process it all. It was bad enough to think Wayne could be watching her. But a vicious murderer…
“There’s something else I need to tell you,” Natalie said gently.
Dazed, Amanda jerked her attention from Luke. The other police officers rose and began filing out. “I’m sorry. What?”
“Your exhusband was released from jail last week.”
Shock rippled through her. She tightened her hold on Claire. “But…Detective Martinez said he was in jail.”
Natalie made a face. “I’m sorry. There was a computer glitch, and some of the data didn’t get entered on time. Wheeler reported to his parole officer in Maryland yesterday, though, so you shouldn’t have to worry about him.”
“You don’t know Wayne.” He was clever. Cunning. And he knew her habits, her fears. She closed her eyes, felt her skin go cold. Her worst nightmare had just returned.
Natalie stood. “We’ve increased our patrols in your neighborhood, and we’ll have someone monitor the house tonight in case anyone goes near that mailbox. We’ve also told Maryland to alert us if Wheeler breaks his parole.”
It wouldn’t do any good. Wayne had gotten around those measures before. A tight ball of terror knotted her gut.
Natalie shook her hand. “We’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, knowing there wasn’t much else the police could do. She’d learned that fact back East.
“Claire, honey.” She nudged her daughter gently to wake her. “It’s time to go.”
She roused her daughter, helped her to her feet, then left the room on quivering legs. Behind her, Luke and Natalie began to talk.
So Wayne was out of jail. He would come after her, if he hadn’t already. He’d promised her he would. And if that weren’t enough, she had a killer on her heels, demanding a ring she didn’t have. Hysteria gurgled inside her. Could her life get any worse?
And what on earth should she do? Clutching Claire’s small hand, she exited the building, then squinted in the blinding sun. She had to go home, warn Kendall. But then what? Should she leave town?
Would it do any good? Running from Wayne was hard enough. How could she flee an enemy she didn’t know?
“Mommy,” Claire said, her voice anxious.
Realizing she’d been squeezing Claire’s hand, she relaxed her grip. “Don’t worry. Everything’s okay,” she lied. She knelt, ignored the pavement sizzling her bare knees, and gave her daughter a hug. She buried her face in her hair, inhaled her littlegirl scent, held her small, warm body tight against hers.
But a terrible dread lodged inside her, a wild, desperate fear that seeped like ice through her bones. How could she protect her daughter from a killer? She’d never felt more terrified in her life.
But she had to succeed. Claire’s life was inherhands. She opened her eyes, smoothed the silky strands of hair from her daughter’s cheeks, then eased her grip and rose.
“How about macaroni and cheese for dinner?” she suggested. This was definitely a comfort food night. “And then we’ll watch a movie, maybe Mary Poppins. Would Brownie like that?”
Claire whispered to her bear, then held it up to her ear. Her big blue eyes met hers. “The Little Mermaid, too.”
“Sure, we can do that.” They might as well watch movies all night. No way would she fall asleep knowing a killer was lurking outside. She grabbed Claire’s hand and stepped off the curb.
“Amanda, wait.” She glanced back, surprised to see Luke Montgomery hurrying toward her, his black hair glinting in the sun.
He caught up to her and stopped. He glanced at Claire, then leveled his whiskey-brown eyes at hers. “We need to talk.”
“Sure.” Although she couldn’t imagine what he’d have to say. She motioned to her green Honda Accord across the lot. “I parked in the shade. Why don’t we talk over there?”
“All right.” She started across the lot with Claire, and he slowed his pace to theirs. Without her high heels on, she was more aware of his height, the power in his fluid stride.
She slid a glance at the hard male planes of his face, that sexy, carnal mouth. His eyes captured hers, and a sudden tension sparked between them, igniting a flurry of nerves. She quickly turned away.
They stopped in the patch of shade beside her car. He leaned back against it, folded his muscled arms across his chest. His gaze caught hers again, touching off another rush of adrenaline, and she forced herself to breathe.
“What kind of security system do you have?” he asked.
“On the house?” She frowned, led Claire around the car to the rear passenger door, hoping the distance would quiet her nerves. “We don’t have one, just locks on the windows and doors.”
“That’s what I figured.” He turned to face her, propped his forearm on the roof, drawing her gaze to the black hair marching across his tanned arm. “If that killer’s out there, you need better protection than that.”
Her stomach clenched. “I know.” But it would take time to get a security system installed—time she didn’t have.
“I have a place you can stay,” he said, and she raised her brows. “A house. It’s in a gated community on the north side of town. It has an alarm system, round-the-clock security guards. You’ll be safe there.”
She stared at him over the roof. He was offering her the use of his house? “That’s nice of you, but—”
“I’m not doing it to be nice. Not entirely.” The edge of his mouth quirked up. “You and your daughter need protection.