Safe Harbor. Hope White
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room was an ideal spot with a clear view of town and unexpected visitors from its bay windows. A new round of concern arced through him.
“Has anyone called, asking about her?” He pulled back the lace curtain with his forefinger.
“No, why?”
“Do me a favor? If anyone calls asking about Nicole—”
“It’s our policy not to share information about our guests with the general public,” she interrupted him.
“Good. The fewer people who know she’s here the safer she’ll be. Is your new security system fully functional?”
“Absolutely. We only have one other guest, Lacy Dunne’s cousin, Grace, from Portland. It should be pretty quiet.”
Until the Feds showed up.
“There are extra pillows and blankets in the armoire,” Mrs. C. whispered as she crossed Nicole’s bedroom to the door.
Alex wouldn’t need them. There was no way he was going to sleep while Nicole was in his custody.
“What else can I do for you, Alex?” she said, looking up at him with concern in her blue-gray eyes.
“You’ve done enough. Thank you.”
With a nod, she shut the door and Alex flipped the dead bolt. He wandered into the sitting area without glancing at Nicole. Seeing her fatigued body bundled up in the blankets would stir anger in his gut, especially now that he knew what kind of childhood she’d endured. Nicole Harris didn’t deserve to be hunted and threatened because she happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
As he studied the harbor lights in the distance, Alex considered moving Nicole to a different location. But for now they would stay put so she could get a good night’s sleep and be ready to face the challenges of tomorrow.
* * *
Nicole awakened with a start. She gasped, sucked in a shallow breath and whipped her head around, trying to figure out where she was, what just happened. A dream. No, another nightmare.
Shouting. Men shouting.
Only, she wasn’t hiding in the closet at Mr. Lange’s lake house. She was...
“The inn,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, even to her own ears.
Clutching the comforter to her chest she remembered the detective bringing her to the inn, Mrs. Cavendish making her a sandwich and sitting with Alex by the fire. After everything she’d been through she’d somehow managed to enjoy a few minutes of peace in front of the fire with the detective. It had been a surprisingly pleasant moment.
She glanced around the room at the charming knickknacks, antique furniture and lace curtains framing the windows. It was still dark outside so what had awakened her? Was it the anxiety humming through her body from everything that had happened? She seemed to be safe. The detective had said he’d protect her.
Nothing’s going to happen to you as long as I’m close, and I’m not going anywhere....
“Detective?” she called out, although her voice didn’t carry far. She climbed out of bed, hugging herself against the chill of leaving the down comforter behind, and wandered to an open door adjacent to her room. She flipped on the light. It was a sitting room. Empty.
The rumbling sound of angry voices echoed from the main floor below.
She wouldn’t be afraid this time. The rhythmic pounding of footsteps vibrated against the wooden floorboards.
She thought she heard Alex’s voice, so she cracked open the door.
He marched toward her room wearing an angry frown that looked so unlike him.
“Donovan!” A tall, broad-shouldered man bounded up the stairs and charged Alex from behind.
He grabbed Alex’s arm, spun him around and slugged him in the gut.
Alex hit the floor, gasping for breath.
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