Caught in Darkness (3 page)

“Am I interrupting?” Tall, Dark,
and Handsome asked pointedly, keeping his sunglass-covered gaze on the man in
the hoodie.

Hoodie took a step back, flicking a
glance down at Veronica, before turning and striding away without a word.

Veronica watched him go as the
first twinges of relief eased the knot in her stomach. She released a breath
and returned her gaze to her rescuer with a smile. “Thanks,” she said.

He held out a hand to help her up,
his lips lifting briefly, and replied, “Don’t mention it.”

Her hand tucked into his and her
breath caught again. His hand was strong and warm around hers, sending a
strangely intimate feeling of security straight to her gut. Swallowing heavily,
Veronica let him help her to her feet as she chastised herself for her silly
reaction to his touch. And, as she found her feet and an oddly aware silence
settled over them, the reality of what had just happened collapsed on top of
her. She sucked in an unsteady breath as their hands fell apart, but before she
could find her voice Tall, Dark, and Handsome was speaking again.

“Are you all right?” he asked, the
deep, powerful timbre of his voice washing over her.

Veronica swallowed again and looked
up enough to stare into the lenses of his sunglasses, wishing she could see
past them. He must be at least six feet
tall,
she
thought absently a moment before she replied, “Yeah.” She hesitated, suddenly
wondering how best to word what she wanted to say next, and finally settled on,
“So do you, uh, know that guy?”

Tall, Dark, and Handsome shook his
head as he said, “Not in any way that counts. He’s an associate of a
colleague.”

She found her nerves fading a bit
more at his tone. It was obvious that he wasn’t particularly close to Hoodie,
and that awareness was more comforting than anything else. She could only hope
that meant he also wasn’t somehow involved in whatever those men had been
planning.

“Do you mind if I asked what
Richards wanted with you?” Tall, Dark, and Handsome asked carefully. She got
the distinct impression that he was trying to figure out what had been going on
without scaring her off.

Forcing her eyes away from his dark
lenses, Veronica gave the partially-crumpled paper bag in her other hand a
light, pointed shake and took a step toward the park exit before asking, “Is
that his name? Richards?”

“Gregory Richards,” he clarified,
easily matching her pace.

Veronica nodded thoughtfully, as if
the name would actually help her in some way. Her breath failed her for a
moment as it occurred to her that knowing his name might, in fact, make things
worse. Should I go to the police? That would definitely make things worse. What
she needed was to know more about the situation she’d inadvertently found
herself
thrown into. And that thought sparked another, a
thought that caused her to come to an abrupt stop and turn slightly to face her
companion properly. “Do you know a man named Robert? Or someone named Tiffany?”

Tall, Dark, and Handsome stopped as
well, his lips dipping into a faint frown as his hands slid into his pants
pockets. “One of each,” he said carefully. “Why?”

If he really knew the potential
victims of what she’d heard, then telling him was more important than keeping
quiet for her own sake. She took a breath and explained exactly what she’d
heard, and why Gregory Richards might have been trying to scare or threaten
her. She studied what she could see of his facial expression, noting the
increasing tightness around his jaw and the thin line his lips formed as she
spoke. He didn’t look like a man who liked what he was hearing. Or, oh, God,
what if he just didn’t like that she had heard the conversation?

No, she decided almost instantly. While
she realized she didn’t know anything about the man before her, she was
observant enough to have noticed that Richards had disappeared far too quickly
to be on any sort of good terms with him. Tall, Dark, and Handsome couldn’t be
a part of whatever Richards, Wilson, and the other man had been planning. Of
that, and against all reason, she was sure. But there was one thing she
desperately wanted to know, so, after a moment, she asked, “How worried should
I be?”

He released an almost inaudible
breath and carefully replied, “I wouldn’t be. Assuming what you heard was the
truth, they’ve got bigger things to be worrying about right now.”

It was sweet of him to try to
reassure her, but Veronica knew that he wasn’t entirely right. Yes, those men
were busy and distracted, but the way she saw it, she could well have just
jumped to the top of their list of things to do. All she could hold on to was
the fact that he knew them better than she did—as in, he knew who they were—and
so, for that reason, maybe he knew what he was saying. She would have to hold
on to that for the sake of her own sanity.

Releasing a breath, Veronica turned
and resumed walking as she said, “I hope you’re right.” Tall, Dark, and
Handsome kept pace beside her as they walked, nodding his head in silent
agreement with her statement. And it wasn’t until she had dropped her lunch bag
into the garbage that she realized they had skipped that all-important first
step of communication. She turned to face him again, this time with a friendly
smile, and extended her hand as she said, “Oh, I’m so sorry; I’m Veronica
Wyndham.”

His lips twitched ever-so-slightly
and he removed a hand from his pocket in order to wrap it again around hers as
he replied, “Seth Hunter. It’s nice to officially meet you, Ms. Wyndham.”

She couldn’t decide what she liked
more—his simple, straightforward, powerful name or the fact that he actually
recognized her—and heard herself saying, “Veronica, please.” Am I blushing? Oh,
that was so humiliating. Suddenly she felt like she might be fifteen again
after all.

Seth inclined his head as his hand
returned to his pocket and he said, “Veronica it is, then.” He paused, but she
got the impression that he intended to say more, and slowly asked, “Would it be
all right if I gave you my number? In case Richards bothers you again.”

Her heart did something funny at
the idea of having his number, and she told herself to ignore it as she nodded
and dug her phone out of the purse hanging from her shoulder. “Sure,” she said,
hoping for not the first time that he would accept her reaction as casual. Before
she could stop herself, she was adding, “But then maybe you should have mine,
so that you’ll know it’s me who’s calling.”

“That seems fair,” Seth replied. He
rattled off his number a moment later, and then dutifully typed hers into his
phone when she recited it for him.

Once their phones were put away
again Veronica was reminded of that dreaded moment when the date was over and
the couple had to part, despite neither wanting to. Only
that
was an incredibly stupid thing to be thinking, since they’d barely learned each
other’s names and were
in no way romantically involved.
It’s
official, Veronica. You’ve gone too long without a
boyfriend.

Barely resisting the urge to shake
her head, Veronica managed, “Well, I should be going…but it was good to meet
you. And thank you, by the way.” That was stupid. You already thanked him. What,
are you thanking him for giving you his number now?

“It wasn’t a problem,” he assured
her easily, another faint grin tilting his lips. “And hopefully your day will
only get better from here.”

She smiled automatically at his
words, nodded, and only just managed to avoid repeating that she needed to go
before turning and starting down the sidewalk with a small wave.

****

Seth watched Veronica walk away
with conflicting, confusing emotions tangling in his gut. He wanted to be
relieved for finally having a solid lead on his investigation, but all he
really wanted was to go after Richards and make sure he would never be
bothering Veronica again. And that surge of protectiveness was entirely
unexpected. There were very few beings he could honestly say he was protective
over, and none of them were human.

Time enough to
dwell on that later, he told himself as he turned and started in the direction
of his own car.
As he walked, he tugged his phone from his pocket once
more and dialed Robert. When the line clicked and Robert offered his usual
greeting, Seth declared, “We need to talk. Where are you?”

“Home,” Robert replied, sounding
startled.

“I’m on my way,” Seth stated flatly
before Robert could say more. He didn’t wait for the other man’s response
before disconnecting and switching his phone for his car keys. They needed to
move on this lead before it evaporated on them, and there was a good chance
that Richards and the other two would be going underground now that they knew
they’d been overheard. He could only hope they weren’t very good at it.

The engine had barely rolled over
before Seth’s mind returned to the scene he’d unintentionally walked into a
short while before. He’d only been passing by, once again reviewing what few
details he had, when he’d caught sight of Richards leering at Veronica. It
looked like he was actually thinking about attacking her, right out in the
open. And he was trying to tell himself he was only upset because of what that
would have risked, and because Richards (along with Wilson and another whose
name he still didn’t know) had been eluding him for over a week. But he
suspected he was lying to himself.

Veronica had looked so innocent and
vulnerable, sitting on the grass beneath the tree and staring up in fear into Richards’s
eyes. The truth was
,
she would probably have drawn his
attention even if Richards hadn’t been practically drooling over her. And he
was angry over the thought of what Richards might have done to her if he hadn’t
walked by when he did, but he wasn’t so sure he was angry for the right
reasons.

Tightening his hands over the
steering wheel, Seth once again attempted to yank his thoughts away from
Veronica. I need to be focusing on taking care of this situation before it gets
out of hand.

****

Veronica eased her car into her
mother’s driveway at precisely five-thirty that afternoon, resignation, guilt,
and frustration vying for dominance within her. Despite the fact that she’d
already made new plans with Allison, and Allison hadn’t sounded too
crestfallen, Veronica still wished she didn’t have to be going to the potluck. It
doesn’t matter
now,
she reminded herself with a sigh
as she dropped the keys in her purse and reached for the handle. It was time to
plant a smile on her face, but it was not time to give in to her frustration.

That thought firmly in mind,
Veronica climbed out of her car and made her way to the door. Her mother’s
house—the house Veronica had called home for her entire childhood—was two
stories tall and well cared for. It was sporting a fairly fresh coat of ivory
paint, and the trim stood out with a contrasting shade of dark brown. The grass
was bright green, the garden on either side of the staircase was in full bloom,
and the bushes in the front of the yard had obviously been recently trimmed. Not
that any of this surprised Veronica. There had only been one time that she
could recall when her mother had let the housework go.

She stepped out of her shoes in the
foyer as she called out, “Mom?”

“In the living room, Veronica,”
Carol Wyndham called back, her voice carrying down the hall.

Veronica obediently made her way
down the hall, noting the slowly-fading smell of freshly baked casserole coming
from the kitchen as she passed.
Casserole?
That seems
clichéd, even for my mother. But she let it go, knowing her mother well enough
to accept that she had undoubtedly had some sort of reason for her choice. And
then she was standing in the entry to the living room, taking note of the
changes.

Her mother had rearranged the
furniture again.

“I was starting to worry you would
be late,” Carol declared from her comfortable seat in the overstuffed armchair,
which was now positioned on the far side of the large window. Gesturing to the
couch toward her left, she added, “Come on, sit. We don’t have to leave quite
yet.”

Releasing a breath, Veronica moved
forward, saying, “I like what you’ve done with the furniture.” Not that it was
necessary. Her mother rearranged the furniture like clockwork every six months.
And though Veronica knew why, she wished her mother would stop.

“Do you?” Carol asked, casting her
faded blue gaze around the room with passing interest. “I can’t decide how I
feel about it.”

“You always say that,” Veronica
commented, leaning back into the cushions of the couch. She cringed faintly
when she realized she’d said that aloud, and she couldn’t bring herself to look
over at her mother for a moment.

Carol was quiet for a second before
she said, “I made Grandmother’s casserole for the dinner. It wasn’t my first
choice, of course, but Pauline drew dessert this time.”

Granting her mother yet another
victory—though this one was far less difficult to allow—Veronica asked, “You
drew for who would bring what?”

“We did,” Carol replied, turning a
mildly-amused smile toward her. “We thought it would help keep things
interesting.”

Veronica merely nodded, finding it
hard to feign interest in the topic. In some ways, this idly sitting and
surface-chatting was worse than the potlucks.

Carol didn’t wait long before
changing the subject again, saying,
“
I’m sorry about
whatever plans you had to cancel. You know I don’t mean to inconvenience you.”

Another twinge of double-sided
guilt slashed through her, and Veronica took a second before replying, “Don’t
worry about it; I just rescheduled.”

“Good,” Carol began. “Can I ask
what you were going to be doing? I don’t suppose you had a date? You know you
could have just told me if you did, I’d have understood.”