Shattered Trust. Sara K. Parker
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finally released her finger from its grip and held the ring between her thumb and forefinger, her attention straying to the endless black water beyond. It seemed the perfect place to toss it, the cloud-dimmed moon a silent witness to her rejection of all the ring had come to symbolize.
But Natalie’s practicality won, as it usually did, and instead she stuffed the ring into her shorts pocket. Maybe she could sell it and pay her dad back some of the money he’d wasted on the wedding that hadn’t happened.
A whisper of movement sounded behind her and she sat up in her chair, her feet settling into the still-warm sand. Large umbrellas shadowed clusters of vacated lounge chairs. Still empty. Every one of them. But darkness had fallen and she couldn’t see far beyond her solitary spot. A shifting shadow sent her pulse leaping, but she blinked and it was gone. Had she imagined it? It didn’t matter. Natalie had stayed too long.
She shoved her feet back into sand-filled flip-flops and tucked her book and sunscreen into her bag. All the while, she scanned the lonely beach, straining to hear anything unusual above the splash of the waves along the shore behind her.
Nothing, but she felt hunted, and that scared her.
Hurriedly, she bent to retrieve her towel, but as she straightened, a dark form emerged from behind a pair of loungers just yards away. Her breath caught in her throat and for one second, she froze, the towel dropping from her hand. And then the man lunged toward her, a knife glinting in his hand. Natalie screamed, swiveling away and taking off across the beach, all energy focused on the outline of the hotel against the moonlit sky.
Don’t look back, don’t look back! But she couldn’t help it. She looked back.
And then she wished she hadn’t. Because he was too close and too fast. And the hotel was too far away. Even as she pushed for more speed, sand flying up behind her on the beach, even as she focused every bit of energy on the hotel lights far ahead, his harsh breathing bore down on her, his footsteps closing in. In a panic, she surged forward, her leg muscles screaming from the effort, but her shorter frame was no match for his long legs.
A hand snatched at the back of her shirt and she screamed again, tearing away and dodging his grasp. But her foot hit an uneven mound of sand, and she went flying, her palms barely breaking her fall as her attacker’s arms snaked around her middle and yanked her backward. She screamed in desperation, hoping someone would hear and come to her rescue, but the sharp point of a knife pressed into the side of her throat, and she stilled.
The rough edge of his bandanna rubbed the side of Natalie’s face, and repulsion slid up her throat as his mouth pressed close to her ear. “Shut up,” he commanded, his stale breath hot at her neck.
He was going to kill her. Natalie knew that as surely as she knew that screaming and kicking would only hasten her death. One wrong move and the blade would puncture her throat, and she’d be left to bleed out as the tide came up and washed her body away.
* * *
Luke Everett was just about to give up his search and try again back at the hotel when he heard the screams. Now he sprinted across the empty beach toward the voice he’d heard, hoping the screams hadn’t come from the woman he’d been searching for. His hope was short-lived as he came upon the scene—Natalie Harper restrained by a stranger in black, a knife to her throat.
Luke’s blood ran cold.
Natalie had gone still, her attacker behind her, one arm hooked around her waist, the other across her chest with a menacing grip on the knife. Her captor met Luke’s eyes, his face hidden by shadows and a dark bandanna. A local, Luke thought. Young-ish. Several inches taller than Natalie. He filed the information away as the man dragged Natalie back a few steps.
Her panicked eyes locked on him, pleading silently for help.
“Get out of here!” the man snapped, pressing the blade deeper against Natalie’s pale flesh. No accent. Maybe not a local after all.
Luke took a step closer. “Let her go.”
“I said, leave!” the man bit out. “This isn’t your business.”
“I think it is,” Luke responded, shifting to the right, trying to get in position to disarm the guy. But the man’s eyes were shrewd, and they all knew he had the upper hand.
One week of 24/7 work covertly guarding the adult daughter of a federal judge had seemed like the perfect assignment—low threat and all expenses paid in a prime resort on the beach. There’d been no indication that Natalie was in any kind of danger, that there would be any threat against her. Her father had simply wanted to be sure she was okay.
She wasn’t.
Not by a long shot.
The attacker tracked Luke’s every move, eyes gleaming above the bandanna. Then his grip on Natalie loosened, the knife moving away from her neck as he jabbed it toward Luke.
“Back off,” he growled. “Or someone’s gonna get hurt.”
He jabbed the knife again, and Natalie shifted, meeting Luke’s eyes.
She was going to try to break free, Luke was sure of it.
“Don’t—” he started to say, but she was already moving, dropping all of her weight against the arm that held her. Her assailant stumbled, and she twisted, darting to the side as the knife arced through the air. Luke sprang forward, shoving the guy with both hands, the blade barely missing his face. He thought it might have glanced off Natalie’s shoulder, but he couldn’t be sure. He was too focused on the fight, on getting the advantage and keeping the attacker from doing any more damage.
Grabbing the guy’s wrist, he twisted it up behind his back until the knife dropped to the ground. He kicked it away, sand covering the gleaming blade.
“Run!” Luke yelled to Natalie, wrestling the attacker down into too-soft sand that made a locked grip nearly impossible.
Natalie ran, all right. Straight to her beach chair and her overloaded bag.
For about three seconds, Luke thought she was going for the bag because she didn’t want to leave her valuables behind. Then she was back, swinging the bag toward the man’s head.
It hit the man’s shoulder, glancing off his head with a muffled thud.
“Natalie, run!” Luke repeated.
Too late. The assailant snagged her ankle with his free hand, yanking hard enough to unbalance her. She fell sideways, knocking into Luke with enough force to send them both falling. He grabbed her automatically, cushioning her fall as they both rolled into the sand.
Before Luke could right himself, the attacker was sprinting away, Natalie’s bag under his arm.
“Hey!” she yelled, and darted forward to run after him.
Luke caught her arm. “Let him go.”
“He took my bag.”
“Better than taking your life.” He pulled out his phone and shone the flashlight on a dark stain on the shoulder of her light blue T-shirt.
Natalie frowned, pulling the fabric aside and eyeing a three-inch cut on her shoulder.
“Here.” Luke bent down and snapped up her towel, handing it to her. “Press this to your shoulder.”
He shrugged out of his light jacket and used it to pick up the discarded knife, depositing the weapon into a pocket of his tactical pants. He was anxious to get back to the hotel, to get a better look at the cut. That had been close. If he’d arrived even a few minutes later... He wouldn’t let himself think about that. He’d gotten there on time, and Natalie was safe. No thanks to the gun Luke had been forced to leave at home because of international travel restrictions.
To think he’d barely blinked when his boss, Roman DeHart, had informed him he’d have to travel unarmed. He’d need to give Roman a call about the incident, and he wasn’t looking forward to that. Not that Roman would give him flak.