Drawing the Line (The Line Series Book 3) Read online

  Copyright © 2019 Nikki Rose.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.

  Front cover image and book design by Nikki Rose.

  First printing edition 2019.

  All rights reserved.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  First, I want to thank my husband, kids, and family for believing that I can do anything I set my mind to. Without their continued support, I wouldn’t be able to do what I do. They give me the courage to chase my dreams and the willpower to keep going even when things get tough. Thank you, I love you all.

  To my critique partner, friend, and fellow author Missy, my stories wouldn’t be what they are without you. You have been such an enormous help. Thank you for helping me grow and learn in this crazy business.

  I want to give a big thank you to the extraordinary group of authors who have helped me grow on my writing journey. There are too many of you to list here but you know who you are and I want to thank each and every one of you for your support and friendship.

  I also want to thank my readers who encourage me to keep writing with every book read, every review, and every message sent.

  Chapter 1

  I drove down the dark highway, leaving the lights of the city behind. A shrill ring came from my phone and I pressed the touchscreen on my dash to answer.

  “Carlile.”

  “Mason, hey. Where are you?”

  “I'm on my way. Just hit the nine now. I should be there in twenty.”

  “I'm already here. Location is secure.”

  “Good. Just hang tight and I'll call when I get there.”

  I hit the button to end the call and veered off onto my exit, following the navigation.

  I hated the boatyard at night. Maybe it was the black abyss that seemed to go on forever, threatening to suck me in or maybe it was the eerie quiet. Nothing good ever happened in the boatyard after dark.

  My senses were on high alert, assessing the area for any possible threat. The wooden docks creaked against the small waves that crashed against them and the bell of a buoy chimed in the distance. Otherwise, there was nothing, no sound or sign of life anywhere.

  I kept my flashlight low, searching for his boat, the Nauti Wench, where I was meeting Jamie. In the year I'd known him, it was the only place he trusted to be secure.

  The stern of the boat bobbed in the water near the dock and the orange scripted name along the hull came into view.

  Keeping my distance from the boat, I pulled out my cell and hit send on the number already programmed in. A strange high-pitched beep pierced the silence through the phone's speaker. I wince and jerked the phone from my ear.

  “What the hell?”

  I could barely get the words out before a loud blast ripped through the air. I was half blinded by the brightness of the explosion in front of me. Instincts took over as I shielded my eyes from the blast, crouching and ducking as debris fell all around and ash rained down on me.

  When I finally stood, the Nauti Wench’s shattered fragments were engulfed in flames. I ran to the edge of the dock, yelling out and calling for Jamie. I wanted to run inside, but there was no way anyone could have survived that blast and there was no way I'd survive if I went in.

  An explosion that big would inevitably attract a lot of attention so I fought the pull toward the boat and hurried back to my car.

  Sirens wailed in the distance. I needed to get as far away from the docks as possible. Police lights pierced through the dark as I drove. I did my best to keep a regular speed, fighting the urge to press the gas pedal to the floorboard. Up ahead were more blue flashing lights but these were still.

  A roadblock.

  I couldn't turn around. It would be too obvious. And, I couldn't let the police see me covered in ash and smelling like smoke. If I did that, I should just save them the time and cuff myself. Instead, I took a deep breath and played it cool, turning down one of the smaller residential streets.

  I looked for a back way to avoid the roadblock and still make it back to the city, but every road I turned down was either a dead end or came out before the police block. It was official — I was screwed.

  I turned back down another dark street. There were no lights on in any of the windows. It seemed everyone in the small neighborhood went to bed by ten o’clock. I considered parking inconspicuously in one of their driveways when another vehicle approached. I watched from my car, parked on the side of the road, as a faded old sedan with a Chinese restaurant logo on the side pulled into a driveway.

  This could be my only chance. I pulled into the same drive, parking beside the delivery man just as he was getting out.

  “Perfect timing. It looks like I got here just in time,” I said cheerfully but quiet enough not to draw attention from anyone inside the house.

  “I'm sorry. Who are you?”

  “I’m the one who ordered the food.” I motioned toward the brown paper bag in his hand, but he looked confused.

  “Ms. Hana ordered this food, just like every Friday.”

  Shit. My plan would have worked great if this Hana person wasn't quite so predictable. “Of course she did. I didn't mean I ordered it. I meant for Hana.”

  “You know Ms. Hana?”

  “Why else would I be here?” I smiled and forced myself to exude confidence even though I was only seconds from being busted by the Chinese delivery man. “Here. Let me get that.” I motioned toward the food and pulled my wallet from my back pocket because who's going to pay for food they didn't order?

  The man looked flustered but he checked the ticket. “That's $12.87.”

  “Sure thing.” I pulled out a twenty and handed it to him. “Keep the change.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “No problem. And thank you.” I inclined my head and took the bag from him.

  Once he was gone, I hurried up the front porch steps and rang the bell.

  “Just a minute, Henry.” A pretty, feminine voice called from somewhere inside. The lock clicked free and she spoke as she opened the door. “What took you so long? I heard sirens. Was there a —. Oh. You're not Henry.”

  “No. Sorry. Something came up and Henry couldn't make the delivery so I'm helping him out.”

  She eyed me suspiciously no doubt taking in my disheveled appearance. I couldn't help checking her out either, but mine was for purely selfish reasons.

  What girl in her right mind answers the door wearing just an oversized t-shirt and nothing else?

  “How much do I owe you?” she looked at me expectantly and I realized it hadn't been the first time she asked.

  “Twelve eighty-seven” I repeated the total the delivery guy had given me.

  “Right. Sorry. I knew that.” She dug the money out of her wallet and handed me sixteen dollars.

  “Thank you, ma’am. I'm sorry but could I possibly trouble you for a drink of water. I'm not supposed to ask, but there was a lot of smoke in the air when I drove through and it seems to be irritating my throat.” I didn't have to fake a cough. The smoke and ash really were irritating.

  “Sure. I guess. Wait here.” She turned away, leaving the door slightly ajar. This was my chance and as much as I hated what had to happen next, I knew my choices were extremely limited.

  I stepped inside her living room just as she disappeared into what I could assume was the kitchen. Her living room looked more like an art gallery and I found myself gazing at her walls in awe, forgetting what I was even doing there.

  The paintings that hung on nearly every available wall looked more like they should be hanging in an expensive mansion, not the modest ranch-style home they were in.

  I glanced into the kitchen as she filled her glass with water, her back to me. Her toned legs went on for miles before disappearing under the long t-shirt that fell just below her perfectly curved ass.

  I didn't want to startle her by getting caught staring, so I waited for her to bring me my water while losing myself in an outstanding painting of a forest with rays of sun piercing through the treetops.

  “Oh,” her soft startled voice made me regret what I was doing.

  I motioned toward the paintings, smiling, and trying to seem as unthreatening as possible in hopes she wouldn’t completely freak out. “These are great. Are you a collector?”

  “Thanks and no. Not exactly. They're mine.”

  “You’re the artist?” I couldn’t hide the surprise in my voice. So much talent in a girl who couldn’t have been older than twenty-five.

  “I don’t know if I’d call myself an artist, but yeah, I’m the one who painted them.” She kept her distance, extending her arm to hand me the glass of water.

  “That’s incredible.”

  She squirmed and a soft blush washed over her cheeks at the well-deserved compliment, making me smile.

  “I heard a lot of sirens a bit ago. Did you pass anything on the way here?” She looked nervous but I wasn’t sure if it was because she suspected something or because of the compliments.

>   “Yeah. It looked pretty bad. I'm hoping I can get back through on my way out.”

  She froze and something in her expression changed. If I hadn't been trained to observe microexpressions, I probably would have missed it. “Odd. The sirens were passing by going toward the docks. The restaurant is in the opposite direction.”

  Shit.

  “Yeah, I had to make another delivery out that way first.”

  “Oh.”

  I took a sip of water from the glass and ran the back of my hand across my mouth. “So, you sell these?” I inclined my head toward a wall covered in her artwork.

  “Some of them.”

  I was drawn to a particularly dark and eerie piece. It didn't seem like something that sweet, pretty girl would paint. It was angry and dark with long broad strokes. I stepped closer to examine the distorted girl's face. She was in agony so intense I could almost feel the pain myself.

  “Tell me about this one.”

  “Don't you need to get back to your job?”

  “You were my last delivery so I'm not really in any hurry.”

  I hoped she would take my interest in her art as my reason for lingering. Maybe, if I was really lucky, she'd be attracted to me and ask me to stay the night, never needing to know my real reason for being there.

  A sexy blonde asking her delivery man to stay the night? What do you think this is, a cheap porno?

  “My food is going to get cold. I should probably eat. So, if you don't mind...” She stepped toward the door, but I instinctively stepped in her way.

  “Please don't let me stop you from enjoying your food. I'm just admiring your artwork. These pieces are beautiful. How much do you charge?”

  Her expression hardened as did her voice, “These aren't for sale. I really think you should go now.”

  “I'd like to stay a little longer if that's okay,” I said more insistently, hoping she wouldn't make things harder than they had to be.

  She made a move to go around me to the door but I easily blocked her again.

  She looked down at my hand holding the doorknob and her voice lowered. “You're not a delivery man, are you?”

  “No. But, —.” before I could finish she grabbed the table lamp and swung it through the air at me, aiming for my head.

  I dodged out of the way, blocking the blow with my forearm and the lamp broke.

  “If you'll just let me explain...” I tried to find some explanation that would calm her down. She swung again with the piece that remained in her hands, managing to catch the skin, leaving a slice across my chest.

  “Shit. Just listen...”

  I caught her wrist and the jagged piece of lamp fell to the floor. Her knee came up aimed between my legs. I turned just in time to block the blow. I whirled her around, pinning her against the wall, with my body against her back to keep her still.

  “Not to sound cliche but we can do this the easy way or the hard —”

  I was interrupted by her heel slamming into my shin and nearly knocking my knee backward but I was strong enough to fight against the pain.

  “And the hard way it is.”

  “Let me go,” she screamed and fought against my grip.

  I pressed my chest against her to hold her still without hurting her arms, finally overpowering her. I was close enough to smell her hair, a mix of vanilla and something subtly floral. It was intoxicating but I ignored it, refocusing myself to the task at hand.

  “I need rope or zip ties.”

  Her body stilled with a newly added tension, “What? No.”

  “Where do you keep them?” I kept my voice soft like you would question a small child, not wanting to frighten her more.

  “What makes you think I even have something like that?”

  “You think not telling me is going to make things better? I could use charger or cable wires if I need to, but I’d rather not tear up things in your home. Duct tape works in a pinch but that can be painful when you go to remove it.”

  She let out a sound of frustration, her shoulders slumping in defeat, but I didn’t miss the small shudder of her breath that told me she was holding back tears.

  “Zip ties are in the far left drawer in the kitchen, next to the garage.”

  “Thank you. Now was that so hard?” I kept her arms held securely behind her back as I moved us both into the kitchen. I was careful to keep her wrists locked in one hand while I retrieved the whole pack of zip ties from the drawer.

  I guided her to sit in one of the kitchen chairs, first zip tying her hands behind her back then to one of the horizontal planks on the back of the chair to keep her from moving while I zip-tied her ankles to the legs of the chair.

  She was feisty. Something I liked in a woman but hated in a hostage. A hostage. Shit. How the hell had I gotten myself into a situation where I was desperate enough to take a hostage?

  “You don’t have to tie me up like this. Please?”

  I gave her an incredulous look from my place, crouched beside her while I worked to secure her leg. After the way she came at me with the lamp, I most certainly did have to tie her up.

  “I’m sorry. Look, I don't have much money but take whatever you want. Just please, don't hurt me?” Her panicked voice gutted me but I couldn't soften toward her. She was more dangerous than I'd given her credit for and I couldn't afford to make that mistake again.

  I stood from the floor after making sure the last tie was in place. “I should be saying that to you seeing as you're the one who just attacked me with a lamp,” as I said the words I motioned to the bloody spot soaking through the tear in my shirt.

  “I said I'm sorry. Please, just please don't hurt me? Let me go. I won't tell anyone anything, I swear,” her voice shook and I hated myself for picking her house.

  Why couldn't I have picked some little old lady with dementia who thought I was her visiting grandson?

  Chapter 2

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he paused and motioned toward the door that led from the kitchen to the garage. “That’s the garage?”

  “Yes,” I spoke hesitantly, unsure of why he’d need to know that.

  “How many cars are inside?”

  “Just my one car.” My forehead crinkled as I studied him suspiciously. He was like a puzzle I needed to figure out. “The keys are on the hook. You can take it.”

  “I don’t want your car,” he opened the door and looked out into the garage as if calculating something.

  “I’ll be right back. Don’t try anything stupid.” He shot me a warning glance, leaving the kitchen door propped open while he moved things around.

  Once the space beside my car was cleared, he went back to the doorway to press the garage door opener, but one glance at me and he headed for me instead. “I’m going to be moving my car into the garage. Can’t have someone spotting an unusual car in your driveway and getting suspicious.” It made sense and I hated how clever he seemed to be with the whole situation. It was as though he had done that sort of thing before.