Holiday Havoc (7 page)

A sad light entered her eyes. “Of course you do. You're a good man, Sean. With a good heart. This wasn't your fault.”

He wished he could believe her rationale. He hated the guilt, hated feeling so bad. Hated even more knowing how much he'd disappointed God.

But he'd been given a second chance to help someone.

With his free hand, he reached around her to pick up the brush. “Start with one small stroke. You can do it.”

Swallowing hard, she fixed her gaze on the brush. “I'm not ready for this.”

“Sure you are.” He put the brush in her hand and turned her around to face the canvas.

For a long moment she stood frozen in place. Then very deliberately, she dipped the brush into the gooey paint until the bristles were liberally covered in a color
like a summer day. Tears welled in her eyes. With a barely audible groan, she flung the paint against the canvas. Blue splattered over the half-finished work.

A sob caught in her throat. “I've ruined it.”

“No. You've painted.” Heart pounding, he quickly uncapped another tube and squeezed yellow paint onto the palette. She needed to do this in order to unlock the mental block preventing her from moving forward. He could see it so clearly. “Here.”

With a soft keening sound, she dipped the brush in the yellow, combining the paints in streaks. With a louder cry, she flung the mixture at the canvas again, adding more splattered texture.

As fast as he could, Sean added more colors to the palette. Sobbing openly now, Lauren splattered color after color over the canvas at a feverish pitch until there was nothing of the original design left.

Abruptly, she dropped the brush, buried her face in her hands and wept.

Moved to tears himself, Sean engulfed her in an embrace. “It's beautiful.”

She shook her head against his chest.

He eased her back and took her face in his hands. “It's art.”

She took a shuddering breath. “It's not good art.”

The constriction around his chest eased a bit. He brushed a paint-streaked tear from her cheek. “I'm sure we can find someone in New York or Los Angeles to buy it.”

She made a noise he could claim was a laugh.

“But you painted. Adrian hasn't won.”

She blinked as his words seemed to register. Before she could refute his statement, he dipped his head and
captured her lips, wanting somehow to convey her worth, her beauty in a tangible way. His heart expanded in his chest as she accepted his kiss, returning it with a sweetness that almost brought tears to his eyes. Deep inside, he knew the moment went beyond attraction to a level that both scared and thrilled him.

Slowly, he eased his lips away and rested his forehead against hers.

When his breathing resumed a more normal rhythm, he removed the paint-splattered canvas and replaced it with the unfinished seascape that had taken his breath away when he'd seen it the first night they'd met. He brought out a fresh brush and palette and unopened tubes of paint. He put the handle of the brush in her hand and then closed his hand around hers. “We'll do it together. Slow and steady.”

With heartbreaking vulnerability reflected in the depths of her dark eyes, she nodded. He turned her toward the painting and moved in close behind her. Awareness of her threatened to destroy his good intentions. He forced himself to stay focused on helping her by guiding her hand, first to the paint and then to the canvas. For a moment, the brush hovered there. He waited, his breath held tight in his lungs. Finally, under her own power, the brush began to move in small, brief strokes. Sean slowly removed his hand from hers as triumph flooded his veins. She was painting again. On her own.

She didn't need him anymore.

Now, why did the thought fill him with such emptiness?

 

Adrian watched the monitor on the laptop from the shadowed confines of the white utility van. The LCD
screen showed a clear view of Lauren through the open curtain of the bed-and-breakfast's dining room, even with the drizzling rain splattering the small camera he'd attached to the telephone pole.

She was painting again.

Just like she'd been that night when he'd walked by the art gallery. He'd caught a glimpse of her porcelain skin and shiny black hair and had needed to know what she felt like, smelled like. He'd waited all day for her employees to leave. He'd expected to follow her home but she'd stayed. So he'd found a way inside the gallery. Oh, she'd been a feisty one. He'd been thrilled by the challenge until her candle and solvent burst into flames and burned him. Until she'd ruined him.

Rage clogged his veins. He'd been so close today to making his move, he could have sworn the smell of revenge crackled in the air. But then that detective, the one from his trial, showed up. Hate boiled in Adrian's blood.

Detective Jarvis had been relentless in his questions, but Adrian had never confessed anything. They'd got him dead to rights with Lauren, but not the others—the four they knew about and the dozen they didn't.

He grinned to himself. He was so clever. His mama would be proud—if she'd lived. But she'd been the first to go. The first to realize his power.

Lauren was proving to be by far his most challenging conquest. But he'd persevere and show her she couldn't make a fool of him. His mama hadn't raised a wimp. No, sirree. He could almost hear his mother's cackle as she brought the thin switch down on his back. No wimps allowed. Didn't matter that he couldn't help being scrawny and bug-eyed.

No woman wanted a wimp. And if he let Lauren think she'd won, his mama would be proved right. That was something he couldn't allow. Lauren would have to pay for ruining his life and for making him feel like the wimp his mama had accused him of being. Oh, yes, Lauren would pay.

Tonight, he'd show Lauren just how strong, how patient, how much…
more
he was than she could even fathom.

T
he shrill sound of a siren tore Lauren from her dreams. She bolted upright, heart pounding, and clutched the covers to her chest. For a disoriented moment, she struggled to make sense of the world around her.

She'd gone to bed keyed up with her successful return to painting, and the amazing kiss that had shifted her world. It had been so long since she'd felt the intimacy of a kiss. She forced herself not to read too much into the gesture. He'd been moved by her painting, by the healing taking place. Nothing more. Right?

Still, thanks to Sean's insistent push and attentive support, she'd been able to paint again. She'd managed to finish a piece, which she planned to give to Mary for Christmas. The feat was so cathartic—cleaning out that place in her that Adrian had tainted. Accomplishing something she'd been afraid to attempt for so long bolstered her confidence and felt good. So had having Sean's arms around her, holding her as she sobbed into his chest. Did all of his “cases” break down like that?

He needed to go back to his calling of helping people. He was really good at it. She hurt to think he blamed himself for the teenager's death. A burden Sean shouldn't
have to carry. A burden she wanted to help him lift, as he had done for her.

The jarring intensity of the siren grew louder and closer.

Something was wrong.

She slipped from the bed and hurried to the door. As she exited, Detective Jarvis charged out of his room, wearing plaid drawstring pants, a T-shirt and no shoes. He clutched his sidearm in his hands.

“Get back inside your room until I know what this is about,” he ordered and ran down the hall, nearly colliding with Sean as he hit the bottom stair. “Keep an eye on her,” Jarvis barked before flinging open the front door and barreling out.

Flashing lights of emergency vehicles penetrated the curtains on the front side of the bed-and-breakfast. Lauren sucked in a sharp breath, fighting flashbacks to her nightmare.

The door next to her burst open. Lauren let out a startled squawk.

“There's a fire at the neighbors',” Mary said, as she hustled out of her room. She secured the sash on her pale yellow robe.

Fire. A horrified shudder ripped through Lauren.

Sean took Mary by the elbow and led her toward Lauren's room. “You two stay in here. I'll be right back.” He rushed out, shutting the door behind him.

Feeling trapped and helpless, Lauren tried to keep calm for Mary's sake, even though she wanted to run as far as she could in the direction opposite the fire. But fear kept her frozen in place.

There was one thing she could do. She could pray. The need to reach out to God filled her soul.

“Mary, will you pray with me?” she asked, uncertain that her own prayers would be heard.

“Of course,” Mary responded and took her hands.

With hesitation, Lauren began to speak and, as words of faith rolled off her tongue, her voice grew stronger, more vibrant. A sense of wholeness expanded in Lauren's chest, pushing out all the old anger and blame. Her pleas for God's protection, her declaration of love for Him filled the room and then slowly quieted to a hushed reverence as she finished with
Amen.

Tears misted Mary's eyes. She squeezed Lauren's hands. “Thank you, dear. That was lovely.”

Taking a cleansing breath, Lauren felt God's love in her soul.

Several minutes later, Sean opened the door. “The fire department has the fire under control. The family got out unscathed.”

Relieved by the news, Lauren asked, “Do they have any idea how it started?”

“I don't know. Maybe Jarvis will have more answers,” Sean replied.

“Well, we won't be getting any more sleep tonight,” Mary stated briskly. “I'll put on a pot of coffee.” She moved out of the room. Lauren and Sean followed. “Sean, invite the Krinkles in,” Mary suggested. “We'll make room for them here. We can't have them spending Christmas in some generic hotel.”

“That's generous of you, Aunt Mary. I'll go extend the invitation,” Sean said and headed back outside.

“What can I do to help?” Lauren asked, hoping Mary's gift for hospitality would rub off on her.

“There are some blankets in the front closet,” Mary said. “We should get those out and ready.”

As Mary headed for the kitchen, Lauren hobbled toward the front of the house. She shivered as a cold draft hit her exposed skin. She flipped on the light next to the closet, found the blankets and turned with her arms full when her gaze landed on the canvas and easel still set up in the formal dining room.

The blankets fell from her arms as horror iced her veins.

Deep slashes cut the seascape painting to ribbons.

 

Sean sucked in a sharp breath as he viewed the destruction of Lauren's work. “How did this happen? How could Posar have gotten in?”

“He jimmied open the dining room window.” Jarvis slammed his fist on the dining table. “The man's a viper and moves just as sneakily. He most likely set the fire next door as a diversion so he could get in here while we had our guard down.”

“But why do this? Why not come after me?” Lauren asked. She leaned against the wall as if she needed the support. Her brown eyes stood out in her pale face.

“Because he's a coward,” Jarvis said. “He's just playing with us now. Trying to unnerve us.”

“Well, he's certainly doing a bang-up job,” Lauren remarked dryly, but with a fragility Sean doubted anyone else noticed.

He moved to her side. “You should sit.”

She took his hand. “What I need to do is leave. This was close. The poor Krinkles. What if he decides to attack Mary next? I can't stay here any longer. I need to go away. Find a new hiding place.”

Jarvis nodded. “I can get you to a safe house.”

Sean's heart twisted in his chest. “But what if he finds her there? What then? You keep moving her?”

“If need be,” Jarvis answered, though Sean could see he wasn't happy with the idea.

Squeezing Lauren's hand, Sean's heart twisted. “That's no way to live.”

“I know,” she said. “I hate that my life has come down to this. But what choice do I have?”

Sean didn't have an answer. He only knew he didn't want her to leave. But the alternative did put her and his aunt in danger. “There has to be a solution.”

He'd come to respect and care for Lauren in so many ways. Her courageous, generous spirit brought light to the dark places in his heart. He wanted to protect her, yes, but more than that, he wanted to have her near him always. Wanted to be needed by her for more than just a barrier between her and evil. Selfishly, he longed to have her see him as a man worthy of loving.

But sadly, he knew he didn't deserve her love. He turned to the detective. “Can you get more protection here?”

“Already done.”

“So then I become a prisoner here until Posar messes up or loses interest?” Lauren said. “No, thank you. There has to be a way to flush Adrian out when and where we're ready for him.”

“We are not using you as bait,” Jarvis said, his tone hard.

“But that's exactly what we need to do,” she said, excitement vibrating in her voice.

Dread slithered down Sean's spine. “Lauren, what are you thinking?”

“That we bait him.” She implored him with her
beautiful eyes. “Set a trap. It's the only way I'll ever get my life back.”

“I'm not going to put your life at risk,” Jarvis said. “If you don't want to stay here, I'll move you. But I'm not going to allow you to do something so dangerous.”

“It's not really a matter of you allowing me,” she said, her tone full of determination. “But you can help me. Both of you. I need to take my life back.” She met Sean's gaze. “I've learned I'm more capable than I thought I was. And God willing, we'll take down Posar.”

Horrified, Sean stared. “It's not a matter of your capabilities. We're talking about using you as bait. No way!”

She stepped to him and took his hands in hers. “I have to take control of my life. As long as I'm hiding, looking over my shoulder, wondering when he's going to strike, he's won.”

The truth of her words were like a knife to Sean's chest. And yet, if something happened to her…he didn't think he could survive it.

He'd just have to make sure nothing happened to her.

 

“The plan is simple, really,” Lauren muttered under her breath as she ducked into a toy store to get out of the drizzling rain.

This morning when Jarvis had said those words as he had explained the plan, she'd agreed, but now, not so much.

After spending time hobbling around town, making herself as visible as possible, Lauren would seemingly move back to her cottage. She would wear a wire all the time and have an undercover police officer shadowing
her. Jarvis and several other officers, including a female officer who would pose as Lauren, would hide out in her cottage, so when she arrived there, she could be spirited back to the relative safety of the bed-and-breakfast.

Unfortunately, the wire taped to her chest and attached to a two-by-two square transmitter at her waistband itched, the rain wouldn't let up and Lauren's ankle ached. She hadn't realized how much she'd been babying her foot until she'd spent several hours using only the crutch to support herself on the concrete and wood slated sidewalks of Cannon Beach. Even ducking into stores for some much-needed breaks from the rain and some Christmas shopping did little to alleviate the pain and fatigue, not to mention the stress of knowing that Posar was out there. Hopefully, watching her.

Her colorful sweat suit topped with a bright yellow rain slicker were hard to miss.

So here she was, pretending to be interested in a locally crafted toy when all she wanted to do was lie down in a hot bath and soak away the stress of the past few days. But that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

With a resigned sigh, she made her way back to the boardwalk, awkwardly clutching the bags of her day's Christmas gift purchases and heading toward the south end of Cannon Beach's main street.

It was late in the afternoon when Sean picked her up in his truck in front of Cannon Beach Playhouse. Once she hit the seat, exhaustion settled in. She leaned back and closed her eyes for the short drive to her cottage.

Sean helped her to the front door. “I'll be waiting for you in the truck.”

The arrangement was for Sean to wait on the street
behind her house. An officer would escort Lauren out her back door, across both her backyard and the neighbor's and around to the street with Sean's waiting truck. Then he'd whisk her to safety.

With a hand on his arm she stopped Sean from walking away. “Thank you for everything.”

“You don't need to thank me. I'm glad to help.”

“And you have,” she stated. Her gaze caressed his handsome face. “You've helped me in so many ways. You've given me the strength to face my fear of painting again. Helped me find the courage to go through with this plan. But more importantly, you helped me to fully accept God back into my life.”

With a gentle hand, he touched her cheek. “I'm glad.”

“I just wish you'd take your own advice and let God heal you.”

His expression closed and he stepped back. “I'd better go.”

A shaft of frustration arced through her. She grabbed his hand. He paused, his gaze questioning.

Emotions welled in her chest. This man had taught her about living life, about seizing back what was lost. He'd taught her to face her fear and to trust God's plan for her life, for her heart. Clarity sharpened her focus to one single thought. She loved him. That both terrified and delighted her.

Tugging him closer, she murmured impulsively, “Kiss me.”

His eyes widened, the color deepening to a blue that matched the churning surf.

“Gladly,” he said and captured her lips.

The soft pressure ignited a firestorm of yearning
through Lauren just as it had before. Only then she'd been so emotionally distraught and so in need. Now, she could truly appreciate the sheer happiness she felt in his arms, for as long as it lasted. She longed to deepen the contact, to linger in the sensations. She could easily romanticize their kisses, make them mean something more. Something real and permanent. Could almost convince herself that he loved her back.

But she didn't. She knew better. There was no future there. Nothing good would come of wishing she could be more than a friend or an obligation to Sean.

She broke the kiss. And felt like she'd just broken a piece of her heart.

Keeping her gaze downcast so he wouldn't see how affected she was by the simple caress, she said, “See you at the truck.”

She rushed inside the cottage.

 

The last of the sun's rays winked out as Adrian slowed the white utility van to a stop at the street corner to watch Lauren climb out of the jogger's truck and hobble toward the front door. Pulling the brim of his navy cap lower, he sliced a glance toward the two cops sitting in the unmarked car on the opposite side of the street. Better play the part, he thought.

He picked up the clipboard from the passenger seat and pretended to write as if he were nothing more than what he seemed, a common Joe doing his job. His gaze slid back to Lauren.

His blood boiled. She allowed that man to kiss her.

She'd pay for that.

The quick rap of knuckles on the driver's side window jerked his breath out of his lungs. Slowly, so as not to
reveal how frantically his heart was beating, he turned his head just enough so he could see who was there. One of the plainclothes officers stood beside the van, his badge visible. He was older, with graying hair and a trim physique.

Adrian rolled the window down. “Problem, Officer?”

“What are you doing here?” Sharp gray eyes assessed him.