O'Halloran's Lady Read online

  Chapter 17

  Jenna’s hopes plunged as Tell, not O’Halloran, stepped through the door of her dark little cave of a room. Without the moustache or the glasses, but dressed neatly in a suit, he was all too familiar, shoving her back to the past.

  Back to the night of the ball, when Tell had been her escort and she had almost been run down in the dark. Back to just days ago, the chilling replay in the mall parking lot.

  Fury poured through her. It had been Tell behind the wheel each time. Of course it had been; the wonder of it was that she hadn’t managed to see it before now. As a suspense writer she was used to drawing together disparate pieces of information, looking for patterns, she just hadn’t been capable of doing it with her own life.

  If she could have spoken, she would have coldly stated that she knew exactly what he was, what he had done not just to her and her family, but to O’Halloran, but all that came out was a strangled, muffled sound.

  Tell frowned. “Damn, you’re awake. Not that it matters. It’ll only make the show more interesting.”

  He cocked his head to one side as if listening for her reply, then grinned. “Sorry, forgot you can’t talk. Bet that must be a novelty.”

  He moved forward with a deceptively fast, gliding step that made her heart freeze. She thought he was going to hit her, but instead he ripped the tape off. “Although, I guess as a writer you’re more concerned with writing trashy novels than talking to actual people, which would be why you’ve never managed to find anyone.”

  Jenna gasped at the burn across her mouth from the tape. She didn’t think he had actually taken any skin off, it just felt like it.

  Forcing herself to ignore Tell’s jab about her personal life, and the chilling knowledge that he had obviously kept tabs on her over the years, she sucked in a lungful of stale air and slumped a little, as if the defiance she’d just shown had exhausted her and she was fighting sleep. “If you don’t like books, don’t read.”

  “Good advice.”

  He stared at her and frowned. Adrenaline surged through her as he continued to stand over her. He hadn’t seemed to have noticed that she had moved the chair, but if he did, it wouldn’t take him long to put two and two together and check her wrists.

  Another rill of panic shot through her as he bent down, but he didn’t check her wrists, he simply picked up the chair with her in it.

  Jenna’s stomach lurched as he carried her, although she was more concerned that he might notice she had practically sawed through the tape binding her wrists.

  Seconds later, he set the chair down by a stack of cartons in what looked like the main room of a warehouse. A bare, iron roof soared overhead. The Hummer he’d used to transport her here was now parked inside and occupied one end of the room. Boxes of varying shapes and sizes were stacked at the other end.

  Jenna’s blood ran cold when she noted the contents: security systems.

  The connection she had made when she’d been half-asleep the previous night had been heart-poundingly correct. Hope surged afresh, sending blood pounding through her veins, burning through the dull, heavy lethargy the pills had induced.

  O’Halloran had taken her suggestion that Tell could be linked somehow with security systems rather than firms seriously enough that he had gotten out of bed and started making calls. He had come back to bed, but left in the early hours. The conclusion was obvious; he had a lead on Tell.

  He would be searching. She knew better than anyone what O’Halloran was like. He was dogged, relentless. If anyone could find her, he would.

  Letting herself sag a little farther in the chair as if she was fighting the effects of the sleeping pills Tell had given her, she continued to take stock of her surroundings.

  There was a desk neatly piled with papers and what looked like order books. An expensive laptop sat next to a printer and modem and other various pieces of office paraphernalia.

  Her gaze snagged on the sleek shape of a stylish white phone. Her phone.

  She jerked her gaze away in case Tell noticed that she’d spotted it, but she needn’t have bothered. He was busy loading a stack of folders and boxes into the back of his Hummer.

  Getting ready to leave.

  Taking a deep breath, she forced her wrists apart as far as they’d go. Frustratingly, the tape had stretched, but hadn’t broken. Closing her eyes, she sent up a desperate prayer. She needed help, and she needed it soon.

  She needed Tell to leave the room for one minute, two at the most. She was pretty sure she had enough stretch in the tape that she could shimmy out of the chair, get over to the desk and switch on her phone.

  Long minutes passed while Tell continued to load the Hummer. The soft burr of a phone saw him straightening. He answered his cell, a call that seemed to be about flight details, then had to set the phone down while he searched for a file he must have stacked in the backseat of the Hummer.

  Another loud detonation made her jump. From the rending sound of metal being crushed, she guessed that the building was cheek by jowl with a car-recycling plant.

  Tell was busy, with his back to her, and there was enough sound that he wouldn’t hear the noise she was bound to make getting loose from the chair. She would never have a better chance.

  Giving the tape around her wrists a final stretch, she planted her feet firmly apart on the concrete floor, braced herself and pushed upward. She managed to slide her arms and wrists up a few inches, then, in order to clear the top of the chair, she had to shimmy and straighten by increments. In the process, the chair wobbled and banged on the concrete.

  Adrenaline flowing, she darted a glance at Tell, who was still rummaging in the backseat of the Hummer, as she pulled hard at the tape. It had stretched enough that she could step backwards through the loop of her arms. She was still tied, but now at least her hands were in front.

  Walking quickly to the desk, she picked up the phone and depressed the start button. She had a moment to wonder if Murphy’s Law had struck and the battery was flat, then it activated with a soft glow and a faint musical chime.

  She debated making a run for it with the phone, but the distance to the door was a good fifteen meters. Tell would catch her before she could reach it.

  Her priority had to be ensuring that the GPS search program had enough time to connect with her phone and download her location. Working quickly, she scrolled through to settings and turned off all of the noises the phone made. Setting the phone back on the desk, she placed an invoice book on top of it to hide the faint glow that signalled it was on.

  Just as she was about to return to her chair she saw the small squat shape of a box-cutter blade.

  A sharp thunk signalled that Tell had shut the door of the Hummer. Her heart slamming hard in her chest, Jenna snatched up the box cutter and covered the four paces to her chair. She sat down a split second before Tell half turned to check on her, a document in one hand, phone to his ear.

  He stared at her then looked away. Jenna went limp as a noodle. The box cutter was hidden in the folds of her skirt, and he hadn’t noticed that her hands were tied in the front, not the back.

  Working quickly, she slit the tape, wedged the box cutter between the small of her back and the seat then clasped her hands together behind the chair as if they were tied.

  Tell’s laptop pinged, indicating he had mail. He hung up from his call and strolled past her to his desk. Apart from raking a cold glance over her, he barely seemed to notice she was there.

  He refreshed the screen then muttered a hard, sharp word. “Damn, how did he manage to find my email address?”

  Attention riveted, Jenna stared at the laptop screen as Tell scrolled down. The email appeared to be blank.

  Frowning, he opened up the attachment that had come with the email. A photograph of Jenna opened up, filling the entire screen.

&
nbsp; Cursing beneath his breath, Tell hit the delete button. The photo and the email winked out as he slammed the laptop shut, but it was too late, she’d already seen it.

  He might have emailed Tell, but the message had been for her.

  Fierce satisfaction filled her, although she kept her expression carefully blank. The email informed her that O’Halloran had gone through Tell’s life with a fine-tooth comb and had found his business email address. When it came to research and investigative method, O’Halloran was clinical and focused. By now, what he didn’t know about Tell wouldn’t fit on a postage stamp.

  Tears filled Jenna’s eyes and made her feel shaky inside. For O’Halloran to have sent the email at that moment meant he must have been monitoring the GPS program on her phone. He couldn’t know who had turned on the phone and he hadn’t risked calling her number, because if Tell had been using the phone, that would have alerted him. Instead, he had put a call through to her in the only way he safely could, by emailing Tell.

  He had the coordinates, which meant he was on his way. She didn’t know how long she had to wait, but at a guess based on the time it had taken Tell to drive here, it would be half an hour or so.

  Her chest squeezed tight. The photograph O’Halloran had used was an old one, nine years old to be exact. She remembered when it had been taken, during a carefree, impromptu picnic at the beach.

  Despite the fact that O’Halloran would be working hard and literally have no time, he had somehow managed to find a photo of her from the time they had dated and send it out into cyberspace.

  It had been a crazy, quixotic, romantic gesture. There was no guarantee that Tell would have even accessed his email. Even if he had, the chances were that she wouldn’t be in a position to see the photograph, but still, he’d sent it. And in that moment she saw another side to O’Halloran.

  He was in turns frustrating and uncomplicatedly, ruthlessly male. He was her lover, friend and protector. Most importantly, he was hers.

  The concept settled in, filling her with a fierce sense of certainty.

  O’Halloran hadn’t ever given her any words of love. When it came to emotional discussions, he was the original Sphinx, but that didn’t matter. He was hers in all the ways that mattered. Maybe it would take him a little time to get around to telling her. That was fine; she could wait.

  All she had to do was get out of this alive.

  Tell checked his watch then walked back in the direction of the Hummer to make another call. The sound of a large truck backing up to the roller door stopped him in his tracks.

  Tell spun. Instead of going to the door, he picked up a can, unscrewed the lid and tossed it away as he walked toward her.

  Horror filled Jenna as he began dousing the stacked boxes next to her with gasoline.

  * * *

  Marc and members of the Special Tactics Squad he used to command fanned out like dark shadows, flowing around the warehouse to key entry points: a rear window, a side door and either side of the main roller door. Seconds later they were all in position.

  Cornell, the senior detective at Auckland Central, hadn’t been happy about Marc’s insistence that he be included in the team, but in this instance he’d allowed it because Marc knew Tell, and he’d also added the condition that he couldn’t personally shoot anyone.

  Marc hadn’t made that promise, and Cornell hadn’t pressed the point. He knew what Marc had lost at the hands of Tell better than anyone.

  Marc spoke into a lip mike. Carter and West had driven the large delivery truck, which was presently parked hard up against the roller door of the warehouse. If Tell tried to escape, he’d find that avenue blocked.

  There was a moment of quiet, until the team sniper indicated that he was in position.

  O’Halloran gave the order to proceed. In the same instant, he smelled smoke.

  Panic gripped him, the kind of icy, bone-deep dread that had hit him six years ago when he’d arrived home to find his house ablaze.

  He smashed the rear window and climbed through into a dark room that was already filling with smoke. A second team member, a young ultra-fit officer called Trent who was relatively new to the squad, followed a half step behind, covering him.

  Glock held in a two-handed grip, Marc stepped through an open door into a corridor. He checked what looked like an empty storage room and kept moving. When he saw the leap of flames, he roared Jenna’s name.

  Sucking in a lungful of smoky air he called again.

  The sound of a vehicle filled the air as he stepped into a room that was rapidly turning into a blazing inferno. Flames and black smoke poured from a central pyre, licking up the walls.

  Someone said his name, the sound hoarse. A split second later, Jenna loomed out of the smoke.

  Marc grabbed her, one arm snaking around her waist and hauling her in tight against him as he dragged her and half carried her back the way he’d come. Seconds later the Hummer, engine screaming, smashed through the far wall of the warehouse.

  Marc had a moment to haul Jenna in against the wall of his chest and wrap both arms around her before the sudden gush of fresh air sent flames whooshing.

  Heat singed Marc’s skin even through the fire-retardant overalls, which were standard issue, and the body armour he was wearing. Coughing, eyes running, he swung Jenna into his arms. Almost totally blinded by the smoke, he found the room where he’d entered the warehouse by following the draught of air flowing from the window.

  He handed Jenna through the window, then clambered after her. Seconds later, they were outside on the cool green grass, the blue sky arching above, cloudless except for the pall of smoke that funnelled up from the burning warehouse.

  When he could breathe without coughing, Marc studied the burning building, a sight he profoundly hoped that he would never see again.

  “Are you all right?”

  Jenna’s hand linked with his. He looked into her concerned gaze and his heart locked up.

  He didn’t know how, but she knew what the fire made him feel, the memories that seared him and the grief that should have made him drop dead in his tracks. But it hadn’t, he had kept breathing, kept living. Life moved on and now he was happy that it had.

  He cupped her face, which was pink from the heat, and sooty. It didn’t matter, Jenna had always been beautiful to him. “I love you.”

  She smiled, tears tracking down her cheeks. “I know. Thank you for the emails, Lydell88.”

  He found himself smiling into her eyes. The email correspondence had started out as a way to keep tabs on Jenna and make sure she was okay. He had never intended for it to develop into anything more, but somehow the exchanges had metamorphosed into an addictive habit he’d had a hard time controlling. “I wasn’t sure if you had time to find them.”

  “I’m glad I did. It kept me going after Tell busted into the hotel room.” Reaching up, she slid her fingers into his hair. Cupping his skull, she gently pulled his head down until his forehead settled on hers. “I love you, too, and have for a long time now.”

  Going up on her toes, she sealed the words with a kiss that was soft and gentle and filled with the kind of promise he thought he’d given up on a long time ago.

  She eased back a few inches. “Don’t you want to go after Tell?”

  He rubbed his thumbs across her cheeks, wiping away the tears. “Nope.”

  The relief in Jenna’s gaze made his heart squeeze tight. In that moment, he made a second vow. From now on, Jenna came first. Happily, he had enough money that he could afford to follow McCabe’s example; the business could go hang.

  She smiled. “Good, because I think your friend Carter took care of that. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he kind of ran over Tell with that truck.”

  * * *

  Jenna strolled over to the two vehicles with O’Halloran, happ
ily leaning into his side and enjoying the feel of his arm clamped possessively around her waist. She was barefoot, bruised and scraped, her hair was singed and she looked like a chimney sweep, but she was almost dizzy with happiness.

  In the oddball way that it worked, her writer’s mind threw up a question about the past that had been niggling at her off and on. “Just one thing. When, exactly, after we first broke up did you visit the air base to find out about my family background?”

  “And Dane Hawkins.”

  She drew in a sharp breath at the sudden visual of Dane: warm brown eyes, brown hair shot with surfie-blond streaks. But like the sepia-toned photographs lining her stairwell, the image now seemed faded and distant, a pleasant memory rather than a wrenching one. “And Dane.”

  “A couple of days after we broke up. Why do you think I was worried enough to follow you when you left Tell at the ball that night and walked home alone?”

  She gripped the lapels of his overalls. Her eyes were burning with tears again, her chest squeezed tight. She couldn’t help it, she felt like she’d just stepped out of a dark tunnel into blinding sunlight. “So you knew what had happened before we made love.”

  Again it hit her. That was why he had been so silent and withdrawn, and why he had let her go with barely a word. Not because he didn’t care, but because he did.

  His gaze was dark and impossibly soft. “I knew you didn’t want the relationship because I was a cop. Up until then the way you were hadn’t made sense because I knew you wanted me.” His hands curled around her arms, pulled her close. “We shouldn’t have made love. I shouldn’t have touched you, but the near accident pushed things over the edge. And,” he admitted, “I hoped that if I made love to you it might be enough for you to leave the grief behind.”

  And choose him.

  Coiling her arms around his neck, Jenna answered the question in his eyes, the one question she knew he wouldn’t be able to ask. “Dane had been gone for almost two years when you first asked me out. I knew you were a cop, and still I agreed, which should tell you something. I wasn’t ready for a relationship with anybody, most especially a soldier or a cop, but it was a fact that I couldn’t resist you. That night we made love, Dane didn’t come into the equation.”