Chapter 1
The dew-slicked asphalt shimmered like sugar crystals in the beam of the Jeep Cherokee's headlights. Shannon Murphy clutched the armrest as Will careened around a turn, speeding past the town limits of Sandy Point. The tires squealed as the truck lurched, seemingly deciding whether to head for the dense growth of spruce trees on the side of the road. She ogled the hydro poles whizzing by. What's the rush? How would a minute or two either way make a difference?
Normally, they'd be discussing the day's events to pass the time: How so-and-so thought miracles could be bought with hourly fees, and Will carping he wasn't a miracle worker, he was a lawyer. And she'd commiserate: What was the jerk thinking? Or how what's-her-name thought she was his only client. And she'd sympathize: The gall of some people.
But there was none of that.
She suspected his contemplative manner stemmed more from who the client was than the rush to finalize the property transaction. She'd ask if she thought he'd be straight with her.
What Shannon wanted out of life was simple: A career, a husband and children--lots of children. The first of those objectives was fulfilled and for awhile, she thought the second might be realized within a short time, too. But Peter Montgomery already had a wife.
That was unfortunate, but other men would be willing to have a relationship with her. Take Will, for instance. He seemed interested in her. From her position in the passenger seat, she cast a sideways glance at him.
At thirty-five, he was a dozen years older and three-quarters of a foot taller than her five-foot stature, with a little paunch and premature graying hair, and one of the firm's newest partners. Yes, she could picture herself as his wife. Oh, who was she fooling? She had eyes only for Peter and wanted only him.
She squirmed in the seat. Will noticed.
"I know I'll regret asking, but what's the matter?"
"I need to go to the bathroom."
"You should have gone before we left the office. Cross your legs."
Cross my legs? God. "You didn't give me time, remember? Didn't you say something like, 'Get your coat and let's boogie' after we finished the paperwork?" She paused to tug on her ear. "I guess I'll have to do that because I wouldn't want a bear licking my butt while I'm squatting on the side of the road."
He turned and looked at her. "That's an image I could've done without, thank you very much."
"Why? I have a cute little behind. I'm sure you noticed."
Will emitted a noncommittal harrumph.
She grinned. "The weatherman said it'll rain overnight. A low pressure's moving in from the east. Winds will be light to moderate with a temperature in the mid-fifties." She fingered the St. Christopher medal hanging on a gold chain around her neck.
He slowed, shifted into first gear, and turned onto a rutted narrow path off Highway 111. Unkempt grass brushed the undercarriage of the car. "Are you nervous, Carrot top?"
"Me? Nervous? Nooo. Not nervous at all. No sirree."
"If you say so."
He maneuvered the vehicle over untended farmland, trampling saplings and immature alders in their path. The headlights shone on a barn, what must have been a Cadillac of barns in its day, but now nothing more than a heap of rotting timber and rusting metal. The structure listed heavily to one side, something a fierce wind would one day put out of its misery.
"I don't know why you couldn't have dropped me offffff--" Her head smacked the roof as the truck plunged into a crevice. Good restraints, these seat belts. She massaged the top of her head. "At my apartment."
Easing off the accelerator, he pulled the Jeep to a stop, but left the engine running. "Believe me, I would have if there'd been time."
A gust of wind slammed into the vehicle, bringing with it the first drops of rain. "See, the weatherman forecasted correctly." She pointed to the windshield.
"Uh-huh." Will checked his watch.
She switched on the radio. "This is Jeff Aube at C100, your oldies, but goodies station. It's two minutes to midnight, the witching hour--" Will flicked the off button.
Oo--kay. If that's the way you want it. Drumming her nails on her purse, she looked out the rain-peppered windshield. "Closing a property purchase in two days must be a record for you, huh?"
"Yes. I had to do the title search myself." He turned on the windshield wipers.
"Title searching beneath you now?"
"No, I'm simply saying that because of the two day closing I had to search the title myself." He shrugged. "I didn't expect the title searcher to drop everything to my search."
He really cared about his employees. Wasn't he a super boss? "Why did your client want to meet with you here rather than at the office in the morning?"
"This is the only available time he had. Otherwise, I would've had to fly to Montreal. And the closing is tomorrow, so--"
That made sense. She gave him that. "Okay, but why here, in the middle of a field, in the middle of nowhere?"
"Have you forgotten Sandy Point doesn't have an airstrip?"
"Sandy Point doesn't have a lot of things." Her eyes followed the precision movement of the windshield wipers as the patter of rain competed with the intermittent squeak of rubber against glass.
"True, but this is the land my client is about to purchase. I suppose there's some significance to that."
"Peehew." She pinched her nostrils. "Smells rotten to me."
"Uh-huh and you're always right."
"Right you are." Several moments passed before she realized the sound of her heart in her ears overpowered the hum of running motors. "What does your client plan on doing with the land? What time is it now? Did you bring an umbrella with you?"
Will looked at her and grinned. "I dunno, midnight, and no."
They looked skyward through the windshield when a thunderous whuup, whuup, whuup came from above them. The hovering helicopter circled once before touching down.
A few minutes later the cargo doors slid open and two men leapt into the tall grass. Their trench coats billowed in the wind from the movement of the helicopter blades.
"Gosh," Shannon exclaimed. "This is just like this movie. Mr. McIntyre and I never did anything like when I worked for him!"
When the craft shut down, Will said, "I guess that's my cue." He reached behind him and took hold of his attaché case from the rear seat.
"Do you want me to come with you?" Click went the seat belt.
"No!"
"You didn't need to bite my head off."
When Will hopped from the truck, she looked more closely at the two men and noticed the bulges beneath their coats. No, not genetic endowments. Guns, she'd bet. Uzis, probably. Oh God, she hadn't expected that. Apprehension grappled her. She cleared her throat, hoping to stave off the panic attack, which she was certain was not a panic attack at all, but a prelude to a heart attack. But did Dr. Goulard listen to her when she told her these symptoms were mini-heart attacks? Nooooo. She merely smiled and insisted the 'palpitations-chest-constriction-shortness-of-breath that you think precede heart attacks was anxiety and suggested she leave the medical diagnoses to her. Shannon had wanted to sock her and, if Dr. Goulard were sitting beside her now, and even though she fought for her next breath, she'd smack her.
This was the same Dr. Goulard, she reminded herself, who did her internship while pregnant, gaining eighty-three pounds and bloating to the size of a whale and feeling fortunate when she could grab two hours of sleep a night. Maybe she should get a second opinion. Yes, that's it. A second opinion. A male doctor, this time. If she survived the night, she'd do just that.
Moisture formed on her upper lip. She felt light-headed. What did Dr. Goulard tell her to do at these times? Goddamnit, she couldn't remember. Her knees trembled. Damn this weakness! She had Peter to thank for it. If it weren't for what he put her through this past year ... Think pleasant thoughts and breathe. Long breath in through the nose, one ... two ... three ... out through the mouth.
Slowly, her breathing returned to normal. She relaxed a little and watched as a third man, dressed in a dark two-piece suit, jumped from the craft and shook Will's hand. They opened attaché cases on the floor of the cargo hold, then pens were withdrawn from breast pockets, and both client and lawyer executed the documentation. "The Suit" handed Will an aluminum case.
And with no more than that, the three men boarded the aircraft. Will darted back to the truck.
She opened the driver's door. He plopped onto the seat, tossed the cases in the back, and wiped his rain-drenched face with a tissue. He threw the vehicle into gear, and they sped from the scene of that unprecedented property closing; at least for her.
"I would have whupped their asses if they'd tried to hurt you, Will. I know Jujitsu--well, I've only had one lesson, but the Sensei said I show promise."
"Uh-huh."
"I wish I could be a fly on the wall when you try to explain this to your partners tomorrow." His scowl didn't go unnoticed. She smiled.
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