The Accused (18 page)

The downstairs lights were still on, which surprised him, but made it easier to determine that he was alone—at least, it appeared that way. Before he could think of all the other possibilities, he dashed across the entry and up the stairs, clenching his pistol in his right hand. When he hit the landing, he saw the bullet holes through the bedroom door and his heart fell.

He raced into the bedroom without a thought of his own safety and slid to a stop in the empty room. The evidence of the struggle was everywhere—splintered wood, broken glass, the patio door that stood open. He ran to the patio and looked over, but there was no sign of her on the patio below. Clenching the rail, he peered into the pitch-black swamp, wondering which direction she’d taken and how far she’d already run.

Wondering if the killer had caught her.

He clenched the railing at the thought and felt something moist on his palm. He lifted it into the light and saw blood smeared on it. His heart fell once again. Had a bullet pierced her flawless skin or was it the killer’s blood?

Using the blood-smeared hand, he vaulted over the balcony, still clutching his pistol in his other hand. As soon as his feet hit the stone patio, he collapsed and rolled, letting the tumbling motion absorb all the energy of the drop. Thorns from the overgrown rose bushes pressed into his skin, but he barely noticed as he bounced to his feet, pausing only long enough to pull a penlight from his pocket.

It took only seconds to identify the broken branches and compacted brush and he set off after Alaina, hoping he found her before the killer did.

* * *

A
LAINA
PUSHED
THROUGH
the thick swamp, pausing only long enough to make sure she hadn’t strayed too far from the path. Her sense of direction was better than most and she was managing to progress back toward the house while maintaining a distance of twenty or so feet from the path. Unless he was a skilled tracker, the killer wouldn’t notice where she’d entered the swamp on the other side of the path. She figured he would assume she ran down the path toward the house and would pursue her that way.

She was tempted to set off down that path at a dead run. Even though she hadn’t been competitively on a track in ages, she knew she could outrun the vast majority of people she came in contact with. But even at her best, she couldn’t outrun ammunition. She had to be smart and agile—her life depended on it.

So she pushed farther through the swamp, every second seeming like an hour. The night air had stilled—the calm before the storm—causing the humidity to soar. Sweat formed on her forehead and stung the cuts on her hand when she wiped it away. It couldn’t be much farther, she kept telling herself. Her pace away from the house was much faster, but she’d been trekking back toward the house far longer than she’d run away.

Finally, a flicker of light pierced through the thick foliage. She inched closer to the path and light from the front entry creeping across the circular drive. Silently, she cursed at her car, parked directly in the brightest path of light. When she and Carter had made their plans that evening, it had seemed like a good idea to park her car right next to the house, where she’d left it every night before. Unfortunately, it was in the one spot that risked the most exposure.

Not only was the entire area surrounding the car illuminated by the entry light, but it was also impossible to reach it without crossing the circular drive, leaving her an easy target for even the worst of marksmen.

She scanned the drive, looking for any sign of movement, any shadow that didn’t fit the angle of the house or bushes, but it appeared clear. The silence was almost deafening, as if the swamp was holding its breath right along with her. She felt her jeans pocket for the electronic key to her SUV. The technology allowed her to enter and start her vehicle without removing the key from her pocket, so no time was lost fumbling for keys, but still she hesitated.

The quiet unnerved her.

If the wind blew through the brush and the insects picked up their tune again, she would feel better, but right now, it was like a giant spotlight was on her—like everything was waiting and watching her next move. She mentally marked the distance between her hiding spot and the SUV. It was only twenty yards, but it had to be the longest twenty yards she’d ever seen.

Still, the killer hadn’t passed her on the path, which she hoped meant he was still behind her somewhere, looking for her in the swamp. The longer she waited to make her move, the more opportunity he had to catch up with her. She clenched her gun and sprang out of the bushes, then sprinted for her car. With each stride, her hopes increased until finally, she slid to a stop next to the driver’s door.

Before she could grab the handle, a gunshot boomed in the still night air, and the driver’s side window exploded. She grabbed the door handle.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice she recognized sounded behind her.

A wave of dizziness washed over her as she slowly turned around to find Everett Winstrom III standing ten feet away, his forty-five leveled at her.

“You?” she gasped. “But I don’t understand...”

He stared at her, his disgust clear. “You couldn’t leave it alone, could you? I thought if you were passed over for the partnership, you’d resign and it would all be over with. I thought the past could be left in the past where it belongs, and I could move forward with my own political aspirations. But you had to keep digging. Your meddling will get Emily killed. You shouldn’t have involved her.”

“I didn’t! I don’t know what’s going on. I swear!”

“That may be the case, but you know enough to keep digging. I know you, Alaina. You won’t let it go. The only way I’m safe is if you’re dead. And poor Emily...what a shame. The girl had promise.”

“You’re mad.”

He laughed and her skin prickled.

“Oh, I’m completely sane,” he said. “I know exactly what I want and you’re not going to get in the way.”

She stared at him, the man she’d worked with every week for the past seven years. How had she missed his instability? How had she failed to notice ambition so big that it was eating away at his sanity?

“At least tell me what all this is about,” she said. “I deserve to know why you’re going to kill me.”

“No, I don’t think so. I think you deserve to die just the way you are now, especially given all the trouble you’ve caused.”

This was it. She was going to die before her life had even begun. All those years focused on a career that didn’t matter instead of forming relationships that did. Now that she was on the verge of what could be the most important relationship she’d ever had, she was going to die.

He pointed the gun directly at her head and smiled as his finger whitened on the trigger.

When the shot came, her knees collapsed and she slumped against her SUV, her eyes clenched shut. It took her a second to realize she hadn’t been hit. She opened her eyes just in time to see Carter race across the driveway toward her. He paused long enough to pick up Everett’s gun, then rushed over and dropped down beside her.

“Are you all right? Were you hit?”

She threw herself into his arms and he placed Everett’s gun on the ground and held her tightly. She felt the soft stroke of his free hand running across her hair and in the middle of her back, the hard metal from his gun pressed into her as he held her.

It suddenly struck her that this exact moment personified everything that was Carter Trahan—soft and caring but ruthless and hard when protecting those he cared about.

Right there, kneeling in the driveway—her hands and chest still stinging from glass cuts, her legs already cramping from her run, her body drenched in sweat and her mind only moments from believing she was going to die—it was the most perfect moment of her entire life.

* * *

C
ARTER
CLUTCHED
A
LAINA
, never wanting to let her go. He couldn’t believe how close he’d come to losing her. If not for her intelligence—her bravery and ability to think cool under pressure—he had no doubt this all would have ended tragically.

She was unlike any woman he’d ever known. He kissed her ear and squeezed her tighter. All those years in New Orleans—with millions of beautiful women living in and passing through the city each year—and he’d had to return to his tiny hometown to find perfection.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered.

“I thought you had, too.”

He pulled back a bit so that he could look down at her. “I wouldn’t have been able to live with that. I don’t know how or when it happened, but I don’t want to be without you, Alaina.”

Her eyes widened and filled with tears, and her bottom lip trembled. For a moment, he thought she was going to try to gently let him down—that she was going to tell him she cared but not as much as he did.

Then she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

And he had his answer.

Chapter Eighteen

Alaina pulled packing tape over the last of the boxes in her Baton Rouge condo just as Carter opened the door and walked in. It had been a little over a week since her flight from Everett. She’d finished her two weeks in the old house without incident, not even a ghostly one.

That part made her a bit sad, but maybe her mother had appeared to help her and that was all she could manage from another plane of existence. The evil-looking specter that had appeared over her bed that first night had never returned, and as time passed, Alaina began to wonder if she’d imagined it.

“Is that the last of it?” Carter asked as he pulled a dolly in behind him.

“Last one,” she said and smiled.

A month ago, if anyone had told her that she’d be selling off half of her belongings and packing the rest in boxes to move to a town so small it didn’t even show on maps, she would have laughed. But now, she couldn’t imagine any other life.

Of course, a life with Carter Trahan was hardly a consolation prize.

And she had plenty of time to decide what she wanted to do career-wise. For the time being, she was going to help William at his practice on an as-needed basis and continue her work with a couple of corporate clients in New Orleans who still wanted her to represent them in business matters, even though she’d left the firm.

Carter grabbed her around the waist with one arm and twirled her around as she laughed. Then he set her down and kissed her long and deep—reminding her of what she had in store that night and every other after it.

As he broke off the kiss and released her, he said, “Detective Breaux called while I was loading the boxes.”

“Did they find anything?”

The Baton Rouge police had been trying to piece together the reason for Everett’s attack on her and Emily. The intern had finally awakened and doctors expected her to make a full recovery. What no one expected was for her to be as shocked as Alaina to find out that Everett was behind the attack.

Emily overheard Everett and another partner arguing the day before she’d called Alaina. The partner was expressing his displeasure at Alaina being passed over for the partnership in favor of Kurt. Everett had cited her mistakes on the Warren case as his reason and said he was only protecting the firm. Emily had pulled the case file to read so that she could understand what construed a mistake when you’d won your case. She’d called Alaina to tell her about the argument and ask her why Everett felt she’d made a mistake.

That innocent phone call and copying the case file had unwittingly been her undoing.

So the Baton Rouge police, upon direction from Emily and Alaina, began a forensic search of all the law firm’s records, trying to determine if someone had been deleting or altering them. The police had already been at it for a week.

Kurt had already confessed to giving Everett the passcode to Alaina’s building, but he’d thought the senior partner only wanted to try and talk her out of leaving. Because Alaina always left her house key in her unlocked desk drawer, Everett could easily have swiped it at any time and made a copy for use in case he ever suspected she was on to him.

The only thing they hadn’t figured out was how Everett got into the house in Calais, but Carter was determined not to rest until he had an answer.

“Oh, they found something all right,” Carter said. “They found the answer to everything.”

Alaina sucked in a breath. “Really? What is it? What did Everett think we knew?”

A flash of anger passed over Carter’s face. “It was a piece of deleted video from when Warren Sr. and his son were in your conference room. The son admitted to molesting the girl and his father told him exactly what to say in the interview with you.”

Her hand flew up to her mouth. “No! How could he? How could Everett delete that knowing he was risking putting a child predator back on the street?”

“He didn’t care a whit about children. He was using the information to blackmail Warren Sr. into supporting an upcoming run for state senate. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain, especially because you were positioned nicely as the lead attorney to take the fall if something went south. Or I should say
when
something went south. He had to know that the kid would reoffend. They always do.”

She slumped down into one of her dining room chairs. “That other girl didn’t have to die.”

“No, she didn’t.” He placed one hand on her shoulder. “But that is not on you.”

“Tell that to the families.”

“Detective Breaux already has. They are angry and sad, but they understand that you and Emily were Everett’s victims, as well.”

“What about Colbert? Did his wife ever give up his location?”

“Yeah. He had a nervous breakdown and was checked into a substance abuse facility. She knew the attacker couldn’t have been him and wasn’t about to tell the very people she held responsible for his condition.”

Alaina sighed. “I don’t blame her. The entire thing is so ugly.”

“Yes, but it’s in the past.” He reached down and pulled her up into his arms. “
You
are very beautiful and I can’t wait to have you making my life gorgeous every day.”

She smiled. “Every day? I don’t get a day off?”

“No. Sorry.”

He lowered his lips to hers.

I’m not,
she thought before losing herself in his arms.

* * * * *

Jana DeLeon’s spine-tingling new miniseries,
MYSTERE PARISH: FAMILY INHERITANCE,
is just getting started.
Don’t miss Danae LeBeau’s story,
THE BETRAYED, available next month
wherever Harlequin Intrigue books are sold!

Keep reading for an excerpt of
Falcons Run
by Aimée Thurlo!