Desperate Measures. Christy Barritt
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earlier amusement was gone.
He stared at that bruise on her jaw. John had a feeling it wasn’t from an accident—a fall or car crash or walking into a wall. He also noticed her hand reaching for the side of her rib cage when she thought no one was looking. The woman had been beaten up. The thought caused anger to surge in him.
Samantha must have noticed him staring because her hand went to her jaw.
Connor jumped in. “She fell in the grocery store parking lot.”
A rigid, quick smile fluttered over her face. “I’m kind of clumsy.”
“Why do I have a feeling there’s more to the story?” he asked.
Her face tensed. “Nothing more, and nothing that you should concern yourself about.”
He didn’t question her, even though curiosity burned inside. Everything about the woman was mysterious...and slightly suspicious.
The rest of the conversation revolved around what needed to be done on the cabins, where to get groceries, and what to expect during tourist season.
When everyone finished eating, Samantha started to help him clean up, but the sound of a boat puttering in the distance interrupted them. He looked up to see a Bayrunner creeping up to his pier, a man waving from the bow.
He approached the man, noting how Samantha stayed back. Still, he could feel her wide eyes on him, watching everything that happened.
“You the owner of this place?” the man on the boat asked. The man appeared to be in his mid-forties and had the look of someone who spent a lot of time in the sun. His skin was so tanned that the wrinkles around his eyes remained paler than the rest of his face. He had longish blond hair, that was swept away from his face.
John nodded. “I am.”
“I’m Kent Adams, a real estate agent from Richmond. I’ve been trying to find you for the past month.” The sunset blurred behind him.
“Why would you want to find me?” John placed his hands to his hips, his guard going up.
“I have a buyer who’s interested in your land. He’s willing to pay handsomely for this piece of property. He said it’s perfect for his retirement home.”
“But this land isn’t for sale.”
“We were hoping we could change your mind. We’re talking an amount where you wouldn’t ever have to worry about money again. You could quit your day job, find another nice little plot of land, and enjoy yourself.”
“I’m not interested. Thanks for the offer.” He started to walk away when the man called him back. John paused.
“Take my card in case you change your mind.” The man extended his hand, a piece of cardstock at the end. “Maybe talk to your pretty wife about it first.” He nodded behind him at Samantha.
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“At least hold on to this, just in case.”
Against his better instincts, John backtracked and took the man’s business card. He didn’t plan on using it. No, the cabins were his. He had plans for them—plans that didn’t include becoming rich, but becoming whole and healed.
Samantha’s gaze looked fragile when he returned. Her arms were crossed, her eyes focused on the boat puttering away in the distance. Meanwhile, Connor was talking to Rusty who had nothing but attention for the boy.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
John shoved the card in his pocket. “Someone inquiring about the land.”
“Is that odd?”
Her question was odd, but he didn’t mention that. “Maybe a little. It’s like Murphy’s Law, though, isn’t it? This property has been abandoned for years with no interest. As soon as I snatch it up, someone else decides they want it.”
“Life is funny sometimes.” She nodded back to her cabin. “I should get going. I need to get rested up for a full day of work tomorrow.”
“Anything you need from me?”
She shook her head. “No, we’ll manage with what we’ve got.”
With that, she called Connor over and started back to her cabin.
Just what was that woman’s story?
He probably shouldn’t dig too deeply, he reasoned.
She needed help, and he had agreed to give it to her.
But still, curiosity burned inside him.
* * *
Samantha couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Lisa had died. Guilt continued to pound at her, and she mourned for her friend.
How had she died? What had happened in the moments leading up to her death? Had she suffered? Her thoughts then turned to Lisa’s family, to worry about Connor, to anxiety about everything else in life.
Her only comfort was in the fact that she was here now.
This place was no Hilton. But at least it was a place to sleep. A place to feel safe, if just for a night.
There was no telling how long they’d be here. Best-case scenario: through the summer. Worst-case: mere days.
She’d be on guard. She’d keep an eye on the sheriff, on John. If anyone seemed to recognize her, if anyone asked too many questions, she’d catch the next ferry. If that didn’t work, she’d borrow John’s boat. It was docked on the pier outside the cabins. How hard could it be to operate the watercraft?
Finally, realizing the futility of sleep, she threw the covers back, stood and went over to the living room window. Against her better instincts—in spite of her fears of someone breaking in—she’d cracked it open before turning in for the evening. Without AC, the place was hot. It would be unbearable to try to sleep in the stuffy cabin with the humid, ninety-degree weather. A nice breeze floated over the bay, but the only way to appreciate it was to open a window.
As she stared outside, she wondered if she should have gone somewhere bigger, somewhere she’d blend in. But the island seemed so secluded, like such a peaceful hiding spot. She hoped she didn’t regret the decision.
Then she thought about the man on the boat who’d paid John a visit earlier. Could he have been hired by Billy? Had he come out searching for her under the ruse of trying to buy property?
She didn’t know. Maybe she was reading too much into it.
But those men had gotten to Lisa. Poor Lisa. She’d been such a sweet friend. She’d had no idea about Samantha’s past. She’d had no idea where Samantha was going. She’d been innocent.
Despite that, they’d killed her.
That just went to prove that Billy and his cronies were ruthless. They were hot on Samantha’s trail and didn’t want her to get away again.
Not just that, they wanted to kill her. And if they did, Billy and his henchmen would flaunt it to everyone they could. They would make an example of her, showing what happens to people who betray them.
Killing her estranged husband hadn’t been enough. They also wanted her blood.
Anthony had left her three months before she’d discovered the scheme he and his friends had developed. The two of them had had endless fights over his work hours, his increasingly erratic behavior and the influence of his friends. Financially, they were better off than ever. But their relationship had otherwise gone downhill.
He’d left her and filed for divorce. Then one day, Anthony had shown up at the front door, sweat across his brow, demanding to pick up something he’d left in their home office. Samantha had refused to let him come inside. She’d feared that he might fly into a rage, and she didn’t want Connor to see his father like that.
She’d