Tattoo My Heart (Heroes of Seaside Point, Book 1) (5 page)

He drove slowly, tracing her steps with all four tires. As soon as he rounded the corner, she stopped in front of the shop positioned there
.

“
Too easy
.”
He grinned at the other man
. “
We’ll be outta here in a matter of minutes
.”

***

Annessa left the restaurant, took one look at her rental car, and then decided to leave it behind. Despite the cobwebs that still clouded her brain, she managed to come to the conclusion that walking would still allow her to blend in with the Seaside locals. Comforted by the tinted lenses, she looked left then right, and then began a brisk walk to
Sweet Treats
.

With each step, her shoulders ached with tension and her gaze swept the area. Other than a few new businesses, Seaside hadn’t changed much since her last visit and several familiar faces smiled as she passed. She inhaled a deep breath of fresh clean air and pushed calm through her veins. Home. The one place that provided peace, comfort, and safety. Maybe she would consider staying this time.

She turned the corner and stopped to study her reflection in the large front window of Seaside Drug. Dressed in her white cotton shorts and pale pink tank top, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, she didn’t look much different than when she’d left to make a name for herself in Los Angeles. Young, innocent, ready to take on the world. Most people would be surprised to know she hadn’t lost those attributes.

She tucked a wayward piece of hair back into her ponytail, intending to stop soul searching when movement in the reflection caught her attention. Annessa stood morbidly still while a brown sedan eased around the corner, just barely in her sight. One driver and one passenger, both male and not familiar.

Her heart thumped and adrenaline gathered in her veins as she fought the instinct to sprint the remaining distance to Vanessa’s bakery. Instead, she waited to allow logic to harness fear. Running would only attract attention. She’d wait to see if the car came any closer and then slip inside the drugstore if necessary. Besides, the occupants were most likely just nosey tourists.

Seconds felt like minutes as her gaze never left the window and her fists opened and closed with nervousness. She eased closer to the store’s entrance while the car inched toward her as if playing a game of chicken. Annessa bit her lip to keep from screaming while sweat droplets gathered on her brow.

And then, just as her palm laid flat against the door, the car stopped and parked in front of the bookstore, four buildings down.

Seizing an opportunity to escape, she entered Seaside Drug, walked the length of the store, and then exited the back door, giving Mr. Simpson, the pharmacist a smile and a wave on the way. Thank God he’d known her and her reputation since birth; he’d allowed her to use the exit several times when Casey and Travis were hot on her tail.

Annessa braced herself against the alley door, swallowed hard to push her heart out of her throat, and tried to convince herself this was some sort of dream – one she’d awake from any minute. Yet, as her chest heaved with each breath and her brain spun from lack of oxygen, she knew without a doubt this was real; once again she’d managed to attract trouble. Surprise. Surprise.

Very slowly she rolled her head to the left, relived to see an empty alley. Then to the right, equally grateful to see the same – nothing. Courage gathered in her veins. Time to get while the getting is good.

She pushed off the door and took a few timid steps away from the building while she once again fought the urge to run. Shadow-jumping would probably get her there much faster. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly while she side-stepped into the shadows of the next doorway. Sweat gathered on her brow as she realized she was out of shadows. The remaining distance to the bakery was completely open and illuminated by the bright Georgia sun.

She moved her gaze around the area one last time, both relieved and nervous about the quiet atmosphere, while she wiped her sweaty palms on her shorts. Enough stalling. The baker stood only about twenty five yards away; the safety of the red and white canopy over the back door beckoned.

Uneasiness climbed her vertebrae as she forced her feet in motion and she covered the first few yards, almost ready to crown herself insane. The sedan had parked a respectable distance away and no one burst from inside with guns-a-blazing. Still, her gut screamed trouble and Casey had practically engraved the words on her brain: Always follow your gut.

Annessa groaned and picked up her pace, relieved when she passed a large, disgusting trash dumpster behind the florist, buzzing with flies and a few very large bumblebees. She stole a quick glance over her shoulder while her feet carried her forward.
I’m still alone
.

Lost in the eager desire to reach the bakery, she realized too late that all kinds of objects littered the alley – she had only half a second to throw out her hands before she hit the ground, her forehead bouncing off the dirt and gravel. Stunned but still very aware of her goal, she took a cursory look at the brick under her left foot before she scrambled to stand and forced her feet to move. A loud buzz tickled her left ear just before she felt pain in her left biceps.
Damn bee
.

Still in motion, she glanced at her arm, intent on yanking a stinger free. Instead, she discovered the flesh had been torn and blood rushed toward her fingers.

Okay, so the insect missed her – the brick had obviously been larger than she thought.

She pressed her free hand against the oozing wound and closed the distance to Sweet Treats in a full sprint. Screw control.

Without a second look over her shoulder, she jammed the key into the lock, entered through the back door, and programmed the alarm to screech if anyone attempted to enter the store.

No way in hell would she let them find her here.

Annessa stepped to the sink, grabbed a handful of paper towels from a nearby dispenser, wiped the gash in her arm, and then frowned as blood continued to ooze. If possible, her heart began to beat even harder and threatened to exit her chest. No matter how hard she tried, it would be impossible to keep this a secret. She’d have to leave the bakery.

With lead feet, she went to the front of the store and gazed out the front windows. Tourists and locals alike walked the sidewalk. Familiar cars ambled by. No sight of the brown sedan.

She glanced back at her arm and groaned at the nice baby pink color of the paper towels. With no other choice, she disarmed the protective siren, opened the door, and then re-set the silent watch dog. She left the bakery and headed across the street to the one person she hoped to hell could keep a secret.

Annessa opened the door of Verity’s clinic, relieved when she found the waiting room empty.

“Verity?”

She closed the door and tried to ignore the trail of blood making its way from beneath the paper towels and toward her elbow. Unfortunately, the steady stream of fluid forced her to pull a handful of tissues from a box on the reception counter and smash them against the wound while she hoped she could convince Verity it was just a scratch.

She cursed under her breath as blood seeped through the tissues. This wouldn’t be easy, especially when she was sure someone held a hot iron against her arm. She knew the other woman all too well. Verity was a bloodhound – if she even suspected foul play, she’d call for back-up. Or worse, take matters into her own hands.

“Looks painful.”

Annessa shrieked and spun around so quickly she lost her balance and stumbled against the counter, scraping her injured arm in the process.

“Oh, ow!”

“Annessa, stand still.” Verity’s calm voice of reason soothed her panic as the other woman tugged the tissues from the wound. “What happened?”

“I fell in the alley.”

“Up.” Verity lifted Annessa’s hand over her head. “Less blood,” she explained while she led the way to an exam room. “Sit.”

Annessa barely had time to climb up onto the paper-covered exam table before Verity descended on her with cold wet cotton balls.

“Geez, Verity,” she hissed as the doctor swabbed the wound.

“It’s full of dirt.”

“You could’ve warned me,” she mumbled.

“Sorry.” Verity squeezed the wound several times and Annessa wasn’t entirely convinced she was sincere in her apology. “I’m going to have to stitch this.”

Annessa swallowed hard. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. What cut you?”

“I don’t know for sure. Probably a rock or something metal.”

“Try again.”

“Huh? I really don’t know, Verity, I was too distracted by the blood.”

Verity loaded a syringe with clear liquid then gave it a thump. “Take a deep breath.”

Annessa inhaled just as Verity jabbed the needle into her skin. Within seconds the pain became a dull ache.

Verity drew back the needle and tossed it onto a nearby tray. “I can’t say for sure, but I’d say you’ve been shot, Annessa.”

“What? No I haven’t, I tripped over a brick and fell. I was just outside the back door of the bakery.”

Verity ripped open a package then removed something that resembled a fishing hook, complete with the line attached. “The edges of this wound resemble a burn.”

Suddenly, Annessa wasn’t in the mood to argue. Somehow deep down she knew bees didn’t buzz quite as loud as the one that whizzed past her ear. A low moan left her throat while her head swam and polka dots danced in her vision.

“Lie back.” Verity propped the back end of the table into a makeshift chair then loaded another syringe. “This will help you relax.”

This time, Annessa didn’t even wince when the needle invaded her skin.

“Now, I want the whole story.” Verity garnished the hook and began to sew.

“You gave me truth serum, didn’t you?”

Verity giggled and took another stitch. “Start talking.”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“Technically, I’m supposed to report a bullet wound.”

A little more relaxed, Annessa still wasn’t prepared to give in. “Then, I don’t remember. I think I hit my head too.”

“You did.” Verity reached with her free hand to move the hair back from Annessa’s forehead. “The lump is pretty impressive but not enough to cause memory loss.”

“Promise, Verity.”

“Fine, I promise.” She returned her concentration to stitching. “Besides, you’re my patient – I’m sworn to secrecy by law.”

“Is the bullet in my arm?”

“No, my best guess is that it grazed your arm just enough to leave a wound to stitch. Were you running?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Someone is following me but I swear I didn’t see anyone.”

Verity poked the needle through another piece of skin then pulled the line taut while the whole sordid story left Annessa’s mouth. By the time she’d finished, Verity tied the last suture and taped a piece of gauze over the wound.

“Why haven’t you told Casey?”

“Because I’m still not sure I’m in trouble.”

“Really? Even after this?”

“Okay, if I really have a bullet wound like you insist, I might reconsider.”

“If?”

“No offense, Verity, but I didn’t see anyone else in the alley and I didn’t hear any sound close to a gunshot.”
Except for that annoying buzz in my ear
. She ignored that possibility and continued. “All I know for sure is that I tripped on a brick and fell.”

Verity reached into a cabinet and then handed her a package. “Take one tablet every four hours. If your pain worsens or you see signs of infection, come see me. I’ll keep your secret – for now.”

“Thank you. I don’t want to worry my family. Van’s got enough to worry about and Travis would go ballistic.”

“What about Casey?”

“Don’t even go there, Verity. You know as well as I do that he’d lock me up.”

“You’re right.” Verity released a hard sigh. “Just please be careful, Annessa, and promise me you’ll tell Casey if anything else freaky happens.”

“I promise.”

Later that evening, Annessa sat on the sofa in the middle of her childhood living room with her arm throbbing and wondered where in the world things had gone so terribly wrong. She was a wedding planner, for Pete’s sake. Not exactly a dangerous occupation.

Until last week.

She tossed her head back against the sofa cushions and squeezed her eyes closed while she twisted the bracelet on her wrist round and round. She needed a game plan. A very good, very quick one.

First things first. She should call her boss. The poor woman was probably frantic right about now. Granted, Dorie Palmer had a flair for exaggeration but she always seemed sincere. Annessa opened her eyes and glanced at the cordless phone on the coffee table. Not an option.

Her cell phone came to mind next and she quickly dispelled that notion also. Cell phones sent signals that could easily be tracked. She only carried it now for the address book.