Kyle shoved Wendy aside and scrambled around, looking for something to cover the hole. All he found was a dirty towel. Holding it in place, he frowned over his shoulder. “Now what? We can’t sleep in this shit can.”
“Maybe there’s a motel back near that bar,” Jack said.
Star cupped her eyes to the driver’s side window trying to see something past the pounding rain, but could make out nothing in the darkness. “I don’t really want to walk around in this crap unless we’re sure.” She wished for the hundredth time they had a cell phone that worked.
Her pulse pounded as she looked into the night, half expecting a car to pull up at any moment. She could have sworn they’d been followed since they left Atlanta, but figured it was just paranoia. Still, she felt like a sitting duck in a van that wouldn’t start.
“Look,” Jack said. “Some guy just walked by.”
Star looked in the direction Jack pointed and thought she saw a shadow disappearing into the storm, but she couldn’t be certain. “You sure?”
“Yeah.”
If they were being followed, it wouldn’t be by someone on foot.
“Maybe he’s got a phone we can use,” she said.
“Maybe.” Jack opened the van door and a gust of cold, wet wind whipped his blond hair across his face.
After the van door slammed, Star watched Jack fade from sight.
“Shit.” She took a deep breath, opened the driver’s side door, and dashed out. Cold sucked her breath away, and wind-driven rain stung her face.
She caught up with Jack where he stood at a gate nearly hidden by overgrown hedges.
“Jesus Christ!” Wendy ran up and grabbed Jack’s arm to use him as a shield against the weather. “This must be a hurricane.”
“Hardly.” Star squinted against the darkness, trying to make out the silhouette of the house before them. It looked like a mansion, but she couldn’t really tell where the building ended and the trees began. She saw no sign of life. “He went in here?”
“He must have.” Jack opened the gate and started up the walk.
“What are you going to do?” Star called after him.
“Ring the doorbell,” he said over his shoulder.
Wendy kept her grip on Jack’s arm, and Kyle hurried after them.
Star glanced back toward the van parked across the street, which she could barely see now. If they were in the middle of a neighborhood, the houses must be spaced really far apart. And there certainly wasn’t any traffic on the road.
“What the hell,” she muttered, pulling the gate closed behind her, and hurrying up the walk, head down against the rain.
They huddled together on the front stoop, barely sheltered, and Jack pulled a knob beside the door. A bell rang. Not an electric doorbell, but a real bell.
“This place must be a hundred years old,” Jack said. He pulled the knob again.
They heard nothing from inside except the bell, but the storm would have drowned out most noise. Still, no one opened the door or turned on a light.
“Maybe he went farther down the street,” Star said. She scrunched her shoulders against the cold water dribbling down her back and wrapped herself in her arms.
“He couldn’t have.” Jack yanked the bell twice more, then pounded on the door with his fist. “Hey! Open up!”
The door creaked slowly open under the force of Jack’s knock.
“It’s unlocked?” Wendy said.
A particularly nasty gust urged the four of them through the doorway.
The only thing Star could see for sure in a sudden flash of lightning was a tile floor, glistening with water. “Where are the lights?”
“Here.” Jack must have flipped a switch because light suddenly filled the room, sparkling from overhead.
Star looked up at a chandelier dripping with gold-tipped crystals as she pushed wet hair back from her face.
At a sudden yelp, she spun around and found a monstrous man, dressed in black, pinning Kyle against the wall by his throat. Kyle’s feet flailed a foot off the ground.
“What are you doing in my house?” The man’s voice rolled across them louder than thunder, vibrating through Star’s bones. She swallowed hard.
“We didn’t mean any harm,” Jack said. He started toward Kyle, but stopped when the man glared at him.
Star stepped forward. “Hey, you didn’t answer the door. Don’t get all bent out of shape. We’re just looking for a phone.”
The man turned sideways to fix her in a menacing stare. “Why?”
“We broke down.” She motioned over her shoulder with her thumb. “We want to call a motel, that’s all.”
The man had long black hair, blown wild by the storm, and fierce black eyes to match, and he glared at her from under heavy brows. A cloak draped across his massive shoulders hung past his knees, below which black boots glistened with water.
Kyle clawed at the stranger’s hand and made gurgling noises.
“You’re hurting him,” Star said.
The man glanced at his captive and eased him down the wall until his toes touched the floor, then released him.
Kyle stumbled away and fell. He sat staring up at the stranger, coughing, and rubbing his throat.
“Can we use your phone?” Star asked.
“No.” As if suddenly deciding they weren’t much of a threat, he turned his back on them to close the front door, then swung the cloak from his shoulders and hung it on hook. “I have no telephone.”
“No phone?” Wendy asked.
He looked her over from head to toe. “No. And it would do you no good. There’s no lodging in Black Cove.”
“Well, crap,” Star muttered.
He turned his black-eyed gaze on her.
She found herself standing as straight as possible to compensate for the foot difference in their heights. The man was no less intimidating without the cloak. His wet, black shirt clung to him, hinting at massive muscles to fit his tremendous frame. He’d make one hell of a bouncer.
He seemed to be waiting for some explanation.
“One of the windows in the van’s missing and everything’s wet. Not the ideal place to crash.”
He looked from her to the others, one at a time, and then returned his attention to her. His gaze drilled into her head, and her chest tightened, but she knew her discomfort didn’t show. She’d perfected looking frosty.
He stepped closer, towering over them all. “Who are you?”
The other three answered in unison. “Jack.” “Wendy.” “Kyle.”
Star felt the others backing away, but she held her ground. She hadn’t let a man use his size to intimidate her since she was twelve. She could take a hit, and give as good as she got. She curled her hands into fists at her side.
“Star Reid.”
“Star? What kind of name is that?”
“It’s my name.” Angry heat rose in her cheeks, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“What are you doing here?”
“Passing through,” Jack said.
He