Overcome (19 page)

“Rick’s gone to tell his mom. We’re going out tomorrow night.”

“Are you sure?”

“That he’s gone to see his mom? Of course I am.”

Gina laughed. “Smart aleck! You know very well what I mean…him. This is all a bit sudden, isn’t it? Don’t you find it worrying, ’cause as your best pal, I do? I mean, think about it, Katie. You’ve been seeing him, what, a couple of months and you’re engaged! I find it odd. He could have read about your win in the paper.” She studied her nails.

“Rubbish. It was twelve months ago. No one ever remembers old news.”

Gina rolled her eyes. “You can be so naïve sometimes, Katie. Have you never asked yourself how he just ‘happened’ to bump into you at the animal shelter? There’d been coverage of it in the paper all week, so how convenient that as you were handing over your generous gift, he turned up. And another thing, I hate how he keeps telling you to lose weight. It’s not right when a guy tries to bring a woman down by forever commenting on her size. I’d give my eyeteeth for your figure. You could, you know,” she added, “do far better than that man.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“I might be on the wrong side of thirty and still single, but jealous that you have Rick, I am not!”

Katie sank onto the sofa and grinned. “You know I didn’t mean it.”

“Mm, but I did. I’m ordering some takeout. Thai or Indian?”

“Thai, please.” Katie leaned back and watched Gina as she ordered. They’d been friends for years, trusted each other’s judgment in so many matters, and Gina’s words had touched a raw nerve, caused a tiny element of doubt to wiggle into Katie’s mind.

She turned to gaze out the window. Recently she’d noticed when Rick and she were talking—or rather, when she was talking—there’d be a glazed expression on his face, as if he’d rather be looking at anything other than her.

“Twenty minutes.” Gina put the phone away. “I’ll open a bottle of wine.”

•●•

The following evening Katie waited for Rick. He arrived in a taxi, the door swung open and he leaned out, looking staggeringly handsome as usual.

“Hi, babe. Hungry?” he called, beckoning to her.

Katie swallowed the lump of disappointment. She wished just for once he’d treat her in a more ladylike manner, but on reaching the taxi, and when he kissed her and she caught the gorgeous whiff of his favorite, extremely-expensive-present-from-herself aftershave, Katie smiled. “Ravenous.”

Rick’s glance flickered over her. Katie pulled her cardigan down a little farther.

Inside the restaurant seated at the candlelit table, Rick took off his jacket and draped it over the back of the chair. “Phew, it’s warm, doll.”

Katie agreed, but thought even with a trickle of perspiration running between her shoulder blades, there was no way she’d be taking off her cardigan.

“I think champagne’s called for.” Rick smiled, reaching across to squeeze her hand.

The minute the bottle popped open, they drank it rather quickly and ordered another. The meal was finished with a generous cognac, and by the time the waiter placed the bill on the table, Katie wondered if she’d be able to walk straight.

Turning, fumbling in his jacket pocket, Rick suddenly cursed.

“What?” Katie blinked, trying to focus.

“Hell’s bells, Katie…” He frowned. “I’ve forgotten my damn wallet! Or have I lost it? Oh sweetie, the meal…”

Katie laughed. “It’s not a problem. Stop worrying. I’ll get it.”

“Thanks, you’re a real doll. I just need to pay a visit.” He leaned over to kiss her before heading off to the men’s room, not noticing he’d knocked his jacket to the floor. As Katie reached down to retrieve it, a small black wallet dropped from an inside pocket. Heart pounding, she picked it up and opened it.

Inside were a collection of credit cards and two folded pieces of newspaper.

Taking them out, she looked at the one taken from a national paper. The clipping showed her with a stupid grin on her face holding the oversized eight million dollar check. The second was a cutting from the local paper, a piece Katie remembered well—when the SPCA advertised her lottery win and the fact she would be handing over keys to the new premises she’d donated on Tuesday the eighteenth.

The date was underlined in red.

In two seconds flat, Katie was stone cold sober.

Carefully smoothing both articles out, she laid them inside the folder containing the bill, collected her bag, and rose to walk out of the place without a backward glance.

Blood.

So much blood.

As though she were floating in the room, separated from her body, Ashley watched the blood drip off her fingers and land on the tile floor. Each plop rang in her ears, amplified by the silence now reigning in her studio.

Moments ago the house had been filled with her screams, the loud pulsing of her own blood as it flowed through her ears, the grunts and groans of her attacker as he’d attempted to dominate her with his strength.

Now it was over. Silence. And blood.

She heaved for breath as her hands began to shake. She willed herself to release the knife, and it clamored to the floor, bouncing twice with a ping that made her flinch.

Oh God, I killed him
.

The reality of her actions sank in as she stood rooted to the spot, unable to move an inch. Her legs wouldn’t respond to any of the messages her brain fired at them.

She stared in disbelief at the man on the ground at her feet. Damon Parkfield. She felt not one ounce of remorse for her actions. Should she?

Concern for the repercussions yes, but not sadness or sorrow. If she had to go to jail for the rest of her life for this killing, so be it.

Sirens wailed outside. She jerked her head up at the sound. The sirens got louder and multiplied.

She narrowed her gaze, knowing instinctively they were coming for her.

Damon entered her home less than half an hour ago. The cops were fast.

His downfall: she’d been anticipating him. She’d known he would come for her.

No longer the weak girl he’d held captive for four years, Ashley’s mind had cleared. Her ability to think rationally had returned in bits and pieces over the past months. She’d visualized every imaginable scenario of this moment.

She’d known he would come eventually. Never for a second had she doubted his tenaciousness. Neither a restraining order nor the passage of time would keep Damon from seeking revenge.

“You’re mine, bitch.”
His words still rang in her head. But Ashley’s head was no longer floating in the clouds as she had been for the four years he’d tortured her. Nothing he could say would have altered the course of her actions.

What he didn’t consider was her determination not to be taken by him a second time outweighed his resolve to abduct her and hold her under his thumb once again.

The sound of police cars surrounding the house increased. Tires squealed and she closed her eyes, picturing the red and blue flashing lights spinning on the tops of several cruisers, skidding up to the curb, heedless of their haphazard parking jobs.

Doors slammed and she jerked again, her feet still rooted to the spot.

She opened her eyes and returned her gaze to the man on the floor, the bastard who’d stolen so much from her. All that would end now. No matter what happened next, she would never have to worry about Damon Parkfield again. And neither would any other woman…

Rain worsened from a steady drizzle to a pounding, punishing deluge of icy sleet. Colleen Kelly strengthened the spell around herself. It sizzled where it ran up against the droplets. At least she wasn't quite as wet as she would have been without its protection. Pavement glistened wetly in the last of the day's light. It was just past three in the afternoon, but December days were short in the northern latitudes and Fairbanks was pretty far north.

“At least it’s not snowing,” she muttered as she pushed through a nearby glass-fronted door into the magicians’ supply store she owned with two other witches in the older part of downtown. Bells hanging around the door pealed discordantly. She sent a small jolt of magic to silence them.

“I heard that. Not the bells, but you. It’s supposed to snow this time of year. How could you possibly be pleased the weather patterns have gone to hell?” Jenna Neil stalked over to the coatrack where Colleen stood. Blonde hair, hacked off at shoulder level, framed a gamine’s face and shrewd, hazel eyes. Jenna towered over Colleen’s six foot height by a good four inches; her broad shoulders would have made most men jealous. Between her trademark high-heeled boots, and a scruffy embroidered red cloak tossed over skintight blue jeans, she looked as exotic as the anti-hex hoop earrings dangling from each ear.

Colleen rolled her eyes, shook out her coat, and hung it on the rack. “Spare me your lecture about global warming, okay? It’s cold enough to snow. It just isn’t, for some reason.”

“Mmph.” The line of Jenna’s jaw tensed.

Indian spices wafted through the air, mingling with the scents of herbs, dried flowers, and desiccated body parts from small animals. Colleen’s stomach growled. Breakfast had been at six that morning—a long time ago. Pretty bad when even dried newt smelled like food. “Did you cook something? And if you did, is there any left?”

A terse nod. Jenna turned away, walking fast. Colleen lengthened her normal stride to catch up. “Hey, sweetie. What happened? You can’t be in this big a snit over the weather.”

Jenna kept walking, heading for the small kitchen at the back of the store. “A lot of things. I was just having a cup of tea. Shop’s been dead today.” She disappeared behind a curtain.

Colleen glanced over one shoulder at the empty store. A phalanx of bells around the door would alert them if anyone stopped in. The minute she tugged the heavy, upholstery fabric that served as a kitchen door aside, the pungent tang of Irish whiskey made her eyes water. “You said tea.”

“Yeah, well I spiked it.”

Colleen grunted. “Smells like you took a bath in booze. What the fuck happened?” She grabbed the larger woman and spun her so they faced one another.

“We got another pay-your-tithe-or-die e-mail from our Coven.” Jenna’s nostrils flared in annoyance.

“So? That’s like the tenth one.” There were new policies none of them agreed with, so they’d joined with about twenty other witches and stopped paying the monthly stipend that supported their Coven’s hierarchy.

“It’s not what’s bothering me.” Jenna pulled free from Colleen, tipped her cup, and took a slug of what smelled like mostly liquor.

Colleen fought a desire to swat her. Getting to the point quickly had never been one of Jenna’s talents. She clamped her jaws together. “What is?”

“Roz called with…problems.” Jenna turned and started toward the steep staircase ladder leading to her bedroom above the shop.

“You can’t just drop that bomb and leave.” Colleen made another grab for Jenna to keep her in the kitchen. Worry for their friend ate at her. Of the three of them, Roz was usually the most volatile. “What happened? I thought she was in Missouri, or maybe it was Oklahoma, visiting that dishy dude she met online.”

“Didn’t work out.” The corners of Jenna’s mouth twisted downward. Colleen quirked a brow, urging her friend to say more. “He only wanted her for her magic. Turned out he preferred men.”

“Aw.” Colleen blew out a breath. “She must have been disappointed.”

Half a snorting laugh bubbled past Jenna’s lips. “Maybe now she is. At the time, furious would have been closer to the mark.”

Colleen’s throat tightened. “Shit! What’d she do?”

“Turned him over to the local Coven.”

“Thank God!” Colleen let go of Jenna and laid a hand over her heart. Roxanne Lantry was more than capable of killing someone who’d pissed her off. It was how she’d ended up in Alaska. Roz hadn’t exactly been caught when her cheating husband and his two girlfriends went missing, but she hadn’t stuck around to encourage the authorities to question her, either.

Colleen and Jenna had already left Seattle; Roz repressed her antipathy for Alaska’s legendary foul weather and joined them. Magically, she was stronger than either of them, and she had a hell of a temper.