The Berringers

Then he saw her. She must have left via the side door. Trying to avoid him?

Either way, the police had let her go, so her story had to have held up. He watched her from a distance; she had no idea he was there.

She was still as beautiful as ever. Even with her plain-Jane, no-frills, elementary-school teacher persona, she couldn’t hide her natural beauty. She might actually be more attractive than the glamorous high-roller he’d known six years before. Softer and more vulnerable, she didn’t look dangerous at all. But Luke knew better.

Her chestnut hair was still long and thick, no highlights this time, but the color was the same. Luke remembered what it was like to bury his face in it. What it felt like to wrap it around his fingers as he kissed her. He knew what every inch of Nicky felt like. Seeing her had brought it all back. Arousal coiled down deep in his belly until he reminded himself what was behind the beauty.

Lies were the least of it.

She paced, looking wary and defeated, as well she should be. Apparently, Luke wasn’t the only one after her. In fact, if she was a victim here, the police shouldn’t have let her leave the station.

He made a judgment call and stood from the steps.

“Nicky... I mean, Vanessa,” he called out, wanting to sound less threatening than he had earlier as he closed the space between them.

She pulled her purse up close to her, as if putting it between them would stop him. He’d grant her, if she was faking, she should win an award.

“Y-yes?” she asked, peering at other people around them, making sure they weren’t alone.

He could almost believe that she was afraid of him.

“Listen, I wanted to apologize. I’m sorry I was unfriendly earlier. I don’t know if the police explained, but I thought you were someone else,” he said, modulating his tone, adding a bit of a smile. “I’m sorry about that. I behaved...badly.”

“Yes, well, thanks.” Her words were clipped, her eyes still wary.

“You’ve had a long day. A hard one. I only added to that, and I hope you’ll let me make it up to you. Maybe I could buy you dinner or something. Or at least give you a ride. I think your car was impounded as evidence.”

“Thank you, but I called a cab. It should be here any minute. They are releasing my car tomorrow, after they’re done with it. Thanks for the apology, and for...saving my life. I don’t mean to be rude, but I really have to go.”

She frowned as she saw the taxi approaching, and then drive on by, pulling up to the curb ahead of them. She started walking in that direction. Luke took a step after her, his hand on her arm. Before he knew it, she’d turned, neatly grabbing him and twisting his arm behind him.

It was nothing to him, though he was momentarily surprised. He’d spent enough time practicing various fighting styles that he easily slipped her grasp and tightened his around her, her arms immobilized as he trapped her against him.

“So, you didn’t forget everything I taught you,” he said against her ear.

“What? I don’t know what—”

“Stop it, okay? It’s me. Do me the favor of dropping the act when no one else is listening.”

He twisted her around to face him, and he was surprised to see her hand shake as she lifted it to her face.

“You really are crazy, aren’t you?” She backed away, her eyes darted to where the taxi driver waited, hitting the horn once. “You stay away from me.”

She was going to push this all the way. Fine.

Luke pressed in close, and her eyes widened. He’d always loved her eyes.

“Let’s see if I can jog your memory a different way.”

The kiss wasn’t meant to be kind or even sexy, but once he felt her against him, intention went out the window.

He held her to him until she relaxed, opened and started kissing him back. Blood rushed in his veins as he went deeper. He was hard, too, and he let her know it. She moaned into him as he pressed against her.

But as delicious as she was, he had a purpose. He paused only long enough to trail kisses down her neck. With his hand, he pulled the shoulder of her blouse away, nipping the soft skin there.

As he kissed her, he looked down at the curve of her shoulder blade.

Nothing.

To be sure, he slid his hand inside, felt her shudder against him. His astonishment cooled his ardor; his arousal and his anger were squelched by confusion.

It was pause enough for her to come to her senses, too, and she pushed away. He let her go, still shocked.

It wasn’t there. No tattoo, no scar or indication that anything had been removed. There was a small mole in the spot where the tattoo once was—something that could not be faked.

Turning back, he looked at her in confusion, and she looked back at him the same way. Her cheeks were flushed, lips bruised, hair a mess, her shirt still pulled from her shoulder. He wanted to kiss her again but shut down the impulse. She put her hand to her mouth.

“Oh, no!” she said, seeing the taxi leave.

His eyes traveled to a small spot on her chest, and he saw a cluster of freckles decorating the creamy skin above her left breast. Birthmark.

Nicky had no moles, no imperfections. No birthmarks. She never would have allowed them.

Vanessa bit her nails. Not terribly, but enough so that she didn’t have Nicky’s neatly manicured hands. It looked like a habit she’d had for a while. Luke had missed that in the jail cell.

This wasn’t her. It really wasn’t Nicky.

Shame and guilt gutted him as he looked at her. Luke started to speak, but she smothered some strangled sound and fled.

He couldn’t blame her, but neither could he let her go.

“Vanessa, wait,” he called after her.

He had to make sure that she was okay after what he’d done. She hailed another cab, running out into traffic to do so, and Luke didn’t catch her before she slammed the door shut and the car raced away.

He didn’t plan to let her off the hook yet. While she might not be Nicky—a realization that he was still dealing with—there was something going on. She was connected to Nicky somehow. That the two women looked so much alike couldn’t be sheer coincidence.

Luke hailed the next cab and paid the guy extra to step on it. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who thought that Vanessa Grant was really Nicole Brooks, and whoever else was after her wanted her dead. He owed it to her not to let that happen.

* * *

VANESSA WALKED into the hotel room and breathed a sigh of relief. It was pretty nice, and it even had a view of the Gulf of Mexico. Luckily, it was midsummer, which was not tourist season in Florida, so the hotels were not full and the rates were low. In the cab, she’d made some phone calls and verified with her insurance that they would cover an apartment or room rental for her until her house was assessed and rebuilt. Until then, this would do.

She’d also called the detective who said her car would now be caught up in evidence for a while, so she had to rent one through the hotel. Hopefully, she could get her car back sooner than later.

She’d picked up some inexpensive clothes at a store close to the hotel and had treated herself to her favorite seafood takeout.

She was starving.

A shower and getting dressed would have to wait—she still had some time before she had to be at the school. Digging into the delectable fried shrimp, potatoes and a side salad, Vanessa nearly moaned at how good it all tasted. Maybe it was true—a near-death experience made everything sweeter and more intense.

Like that kiss with Luke Berringer?

That had been intense. Strange, unexpected, a bit scary and the best kiss she’d ever had. Too bad it was with a crazy stalker man.

Not that she’d had tons of kisses, but she did her share of dating, and that man kissed like his life depended on it. Vanessa had responded simply because it felt so good. It shouldn’t have, but it did.

Still, what decent, sane man kissed a woman he didn’t know in the middle of a parking lot?

It was a keen reminder that this man, no matter what his credentials were, was not okay. Something was very wrong there, whether he had anything to do with the bombing or not. She wondered if she shouldn’t call the detective back and let him know what happened.

Though it would be hard to explain why she’d let him kiss her until things started getting too heated. Was there such a thing as post-traumatic kissing?

No, she’d keep it to herself, unless he came around again. If that happened, she would have to report him and hopefully the police would listen this time.

Finishing off her dinner, she headed for the shower, emerging refreshed and more energized. Until she looked in the mirror. Several small scratches covered her skin on her face and neck, and she had a dark bruise on her left shoulder and a smaller one on her chin. Her eye was lightly purple at the edge. How was she going to explain that?

After she was dressed, she stood at the table by the window to pick up her bag. She paused as something moved in the corner of her vision.

Looking down through a crack in the curtain, she saw him—or at least, she saw something. Someone. Was someone down there, watching her?

Shivers ran over her skin, and she yanked the curtains shut, suddenly afraid to leave the room. What if it was Luke Berringer, following her? How could he have? What if it was the person who tried to blow her up?

Or what, her sanity challenged, if it was simply an employee or guest of the hotel out for a smoke?

Forcing herself to breathe more normally, she gathered up her things and left. The clerk had the rental keys and told her where her car was parked. No one was in the lot except for a valet who had no customers, so he was sweeping the front entrance. Nothing to fear.

She relaxed slightly, determined to leave the events of the day behind her temporarily. She would have to tell the school, of course, and let them know what was going on, her new address and so forth. But for a few hours, she could return to her normal life. She craved that more than anything.

As soon as she arrived at the school, Vanessa realized it was not going to happen. The second she entered the lot, a news reporter approached the car and a camera flashed in her eyes.

“What—what are you doing?”

“Ms. Grant, can you tell us why there was an attempt on your life? Do you think you should be here? Aren’t you endangering the children here at the school?”

Vanessa gaped in the face of the questions, shocked and wordless. Two of her teacher friends, Donna and Juanita, hurried her into the school, leaving the reporters behind.

“Oh, honey, we’ve been so worried!” Donna said, pulling her into a hug and no sooner did she let go than Juanita did the same.

“Where have you been? We’ve been calling and calling,” Juanita asked.

“I—I guess you know then...what happened.”

The two women looked at her as if she were crazy.

“Vanessa, what happened today is the biggest story in the local news. Everyone knows. It might even have gone national. It’s not every day a person’s house gets blown up and they barely escape it,” Donna said, putting a calming hand on her arm. “Someone taped it on their phone, and it showed a guy pushing you out of the way—who was he? He was hot.”

Vanessa shook her head.

“Of course it would be news. I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

“You’re confused. You should be at the hospital or protected by the police. Who would do this? Is it that creep you dated last fall, do you think?” Juanita asked.

Vanessa’s head swam. “I don’t know, but no, I don’t think it was Kevin.”

Kevin was a high school–basketball coach who turned out to be married, much to Vanessa’s surprise. But he was a phys-ed guy, not an explosives expert.

“So who was that man who saved you?”

Vanessa took a deep breath, settling her frazzled nerves as much as possible. “I don’t know. I mean, I know now, but he was a stranger.”

She wasn’t about to get into her interactions with Luke Berringer.

“If he’d saved my life, I’d make sure he wasn’t a stranger for long,” Donna said with a humorous snort.

“Listen, you guys, I don’t mean to be standoffish, but it’s been a difficult day. We can talk about this later. Right now, I want to work. To do something normal. See my kids, talk about teaching, you know?”

“Oh, sure. We’re sorry. It’s all so incredible,” Juanita said understandingly.

“That’s not the word I’d use for my house being blown to smithereens,” she said, more sharply than she meant to. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re right. We’re being insensitive. Where are you staying? You should stay with me and the kids tonight, and for as long as you want,” Juanita said, hugging her again.

“I have a room at a local hotel, and my insurance covers it. Right now I need some space and to get my bearings. But thank you. You guys are wonderful,” Vanessa said, and she meant it.

Her friends had been so supportive over the years. They worked together, went out to dinner, to exercise classes, and they saw each other through thick and thin. But right now, she needed to keep calm and avoid more questions.

“Let’s go. I think they’re about to start the orientation program in a few minutes.”

Relieved, Vanessa smiled for the first time since the afternoon as she walked into the small auditorium. The young people in the seats were laughing and talking as the adults organized their presentations and got ready to start.

This was her world. The one she had built for herself, full of activity, love and hope. She breathed it in, greeting some of the students who smiled back at her and who didn’t ask questions other than if they could be in her class. Taking in her cuts and scrapes, another little girl, Kayla, wanted to know if she had fallen down. Vanessa assured her she was fine.

The query made her choke up slightly as she made her way down to the front, near the stage. Vanessa knew she had a good reputation with students and parents, but right now, knowing these children wanted to be in her life, that they were concerned about her and that her friends would open their homes to her, made everything all right. She could rebuild her house, buy new clothes. What she really cared about was her family, and that included these kids and her friends. Everything else could be replaced.

The tightness in her chest finally eased, and she started to take her seat as her mind went over her presentation. Luckily, she was third in the lineup, so she would have time to prepare.

“Ms. Grant,” she heard and looked up to see their new principal, Mr. Edwards. His eyes took in her bumps and bruises, too, and she tried to smile.

“Mr. Edwards.”

“Could we have a word before we get started?”

Vanessa read the tension in his face as nothing good, and felt her stress rise. Edwards was a competent principal as far as they knew—he’d only been with the school for one year. He wasn’t as friendly and approachable as their previous principal—he didn’t socialize or get to know teachers personally like Mrs. Madeira had—but he cared about the kids and he was fair.

They exited through a door that led up to the back of the stage.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his eyes searching her face again. “We were all concerned when we saw the news.”

“I’m fine, thank you. Just some bumps and scrapes.”

Vanessa held his gaze, but almost caved, he was staring at her so intently.

“Do you know what I did before I came here, Vanessa?”

She blinked, surprised by his use of her first name. He always insisted on formal address.

“I was part of the search committee, so I know you were in the military, and when you came home, you went back to school and received your Ph.D. in Education, and then worked at a few very prestigious schools before you came here, yes.”

“That’s my résumé. But what I did was work in a bomb-disposal unit. I was exposed to explosions on an almost daily basis. Roadside explosions, mostly, but a few times we had close calls in structures. Buildings,” he clarified, and she saw his eyes darken in an emotional way that made her catch her breath. “Sometimes we got there too late, or it didn’t go well. I saw that, too.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I remember how long it took to get used to it. If you ever do. I still have nightmares about it sometimes.”

Vanessa blinked, unsure of what had brought on this sudden confession.

“I can only imagine how horrible—”

“No need to imagine—you lived through that today. The reporter said he wasn’t sure what was the source of the explosion, but I could see right away that it was set on purpose, from how it blew up. You were lucky, and we’re all very glad about that.”

She nodded.

“But you shouldn’t be here,” he finished.

“But I’m fine, really, and I have my presentation prepared already, and the kids expect—”

He placed his hands on her shoulders, surprising her again and cutting off her objection. She stiffened, and realizing he’d stepped over the line, he drew back his touch.

“Listen, Vanessa. I know how it feels. I know the need to close it out and want everything back to normal, but it’s not normal. Not at the moment. Likely you haven’t even begun to deal with what’s happened yet and being here is the last thing you should be doing. What if you break down on stage? Worse, someone tried to blow up your house—I won’t ask why—but you should be in police protection. I can’t risk whatever danger you’re in affecting the school, the kids—parents have already been calling about that.”

“But it was a mistake, I’m sure. Someone must have thought my house was someone else’s. It’s the only explanation. Who would want to hurt me?”

“I agree, but until that’s certain, I have to insist you don’t come to school. I’ve already cleared it with the board to put you on extended paid leave. Your job will be here for you when you are ready to come back. But that’s not right now. Go deal with this. Find someone to talk to—if you can’t, then here’s a number for a friend of mine. She deals with post-traumatic stress specifically. You’d like her. But you can’t be here right now. It’s not good for you, or the kids.”

Vanessa’s world was blown to bits for the second time that day. She held Mr. Edwards’s card in her hand, frozen, unsure what to do next.

“Let me get someone to help you with your things and walk you to your car. Are you okay to drive?”

“I’m fine,” Vanessa bit out, suddenly very angry. “You may not believe it, but I am. Why won’t anyone believe me?”

How could they do this to her? After everything she’d been through, they were taking this away from her, too?

“It’s not permanent, Vanessa. You’ll be back before Columbus Day, I’m sure. But when the matter clears, you’ll see that I’m right.”

The anger receded as quickly as it had risen. She was completely exhausted.

“Okay, yes. I want to do what’s best for the kids.”

“I know. Go rest. Recover and get your life back together. I hope they find who did this so you can really put it behind you.”

“Thank you,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Mr. Edwards squeezed her shoulder in support and then went back to the auditorium where he and everyone else would go on with the program. Without her.

Vanessa walked like a zombie to her classroom, where she stared at the empty desks and the absolutely clean chalkboard. She always loved decorating her door for the new school year and writing her name on that perfect board for the first time every September. She would have all of the kids come up and write their names on it, too, to introduce themselves.

This year, someone else would be welcoming her students.

But Mr. Edwards was right. She couldn’t risk even the slightest chance that she could upset or bring harm to her students. Her bruises had already worried sweet Kayla, and Vanessa felt a pinch of guilt.

Blowing out a breath, she went to her desk and started cleaning it out, packing the few things she had in there in a box that she found in the supply closet.

It was only for a month or so, until the police closed the investigation and found the person who ruined her house. She’d start rebuilding, her bruises would fade and she’d be back to work. Maybe the leave was a blessing in disguise. This way she could focus on starting again, and—

A noise in the hall stalled her thoughts, making her freeze in place.

“Hello?” she called out into the hallway.

No one answered.

Shaking off the momentary panic, Vanessa returned to packing her desk but then jumped as the door behind her clicked shut and the lights in the room went dark.

Before she could turn around, someone grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth, and she felt something hard jab into her ribs. She twisted, a stinging pain in her side making her cry out.

Vanessa fought and managed to grip the hand holding the knife, pushing it away from her and stomping hard on her assailant’s foot. He yelled, bending forward. His hold loosened as she threw her head back and caught him in the face and then turned to bring her knee up into his groin.

Down he went at her feet.

She was breathing so hard that she thought she might pass out. Vanessa grabbed the weapon and turned to run, but her attacker’s hand closed around her ankle. She fell hard. The knife flew out of her hand, sliding somewhere into the darkness under the desks.

On a surreal level, what crossed her mind was that she didn’t want any of the kids finding it, even though she was still struggling to get away. He was strong, and he managed to drag her closer even as she fought and screamed. No one could hear her—her door was closed, and she was on the far side of the building, away from the auditorium.

He must have been watching the whole time.

“Who are you? Did you set the bomb? Why are you doing this to me?” she managed, landing a rough kick to his forehead as he pulled her closer.

Unexpectedly, the door swung open and the lights went on. Vanessa looked up into the face of Luke Berringer, whose expression was so fierce that she was afraid of him all over again.

He jumped on the man holding her and yelled, “Go!”

Vanessa wasn’t sure what to do. She couldn’t leave Luke here with this attacker, and she watched as both men stood, facing off.

“Vanessa, get out,” he repeated through his teeth, not taking his eyes off the other man, who was completely covered, face and all.

Vanessa could see only his very, very cold eyes, now trained on Luke.

But then, as the two men began to grapple, a flood of voices in the hallway made them all stop. The man fighting with Luke broke away and ran back out the door, disappearing down the hall.

Luke took off after him.

She heard the kids’ voices coming closer, all being given a tour of the school with their parents. She found the knife that had skidded across the floor, grabbed her bag and headed for the nearest exit.

Outside, she didn’t see anyone. Luke and the other man had seemed to completely disappear. Searching around the lot, she called his name, scanning the dark shadows beyond the lit field with no result. Both men were gone.

But for all she knew, Luke Berringer could be lying dead in the shrubs somewhere. She couldn’t leave him. If not for him, she might be dead. Again.

She thought of using her cell to phone the police as she continued to search, but then hesitated. If she called them, they might not give her a choice about being in protective custody now. She didn’t want that, to be hidden away. She wanted to know why this was happening.

Continuing to poke through the bushes that surrounded the large field, she gripped the knife tightly in her hand and ignored the pain in her side. It wasn’t serious; she’d avoided the worst of the knife’s edge.

“Luke? Mr. Berringer? Are you there?” she called out in a low voice. No response.

At wit’s end, Vanessa started heading for the school. If Luke was hurt, he might need help.