Perilous Refuge. Kathleen Tailer

have you freezing.”

      She took the jacket gratefully and hugged it around her. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” It warmed her instantly and smelled fresh, clean and masculine. Strange how the simple gesture of him lending her his jacket made her feel not just warmer but safer, as if she could count on him to look after her.

      Strange thought, indeed. She knew better than that—she could count on no one but herself.

      * * *

      After returning to Miss Abigail, they breakfasted on shaved honey ham, Hawaiian sweet rolls and sharp cheddar cheese. Chelsea had also found some fresh pineapple at the deli and a few other tropical fruits to round off the meal. She had even brought a jug of freshly squeezed orange juice and little paper cups emblazoned with the hotel logo.

      The food was simple yet satisfying, and Alex felt himself watching Chelsea as she served the small breakfast, filled with a sense of peace he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Her eyes danced as she talked and she moved with a grace he had rarely seen. Could this woman really be a criminal? She sure didn’t fit the scheming stereotype he had in his mind. But then, would any con artist be easy to spot? After all, his fiancée had sure pulled the wool over his eyes before her true character had been revealed. Irene had professed her love one day and the next tried to steal his client’s secrets so she could sell them to his client’s adversary. Her treachery had been a bitter pill to swallow and still squeezed his heart whenever he thought about it.

      He eyed Chelsea critically. Was it possible she was just a great actress, playing a part? Who was the real Chelsea? She was definitely hiding something. His investigator’s inquiries had proved that. But what? And who were all of those men on her camera? His mind swept through various possibilities as they finished breakfast, but he still didn’t know enough about her to really come to any conclusions. As much as he hated to change his plans yet again, he realized that learning about Chelsea and her motives was going to take much longer than he had anticipated. He would probably need to extend his trip if he was going to find out the truth. He patted his pocket where he had stashed the paper cup she had been using and hoped that Tony would be able to get the fingerprints off of it without any problems.

      Several other people were milling around the observation deck and the antics of a three-year-old boy captured his attention. The child was very energetic and was throwing rocks over the railing whenever his parents weren’t looking. Alex smiled and then scanned some of the other people who were also standing along the railing. Most were engrossed with the view, but then he noticed a man wearing a Braves cap who seemed to be watching Miss Abigail and Chelsea with a careful eye. Was it the same man from the plane? He tried to remember the features of the man but couldn’t recall much besides the baseball cap. Surely there was more than one Braves fan in Maui.

      This man was large, with dirty-blond hair catching the light in spite of his cap. He looked to be about thirty years old. At first Alex thought he was just being overly suspicious, but as Chelsea started to pack up the remains of their breakfast and take some of their belongings back to the rental car, he noticed the man’s eyes continue to follow her movements. He was definitely watching her. The hair on Alex’s neck prickled. He stood abruptly and started toward the stranger.

      The man seemed startled at Alex’s movement and for a moment their eyes locked. The menace Alex saw was palpable, but suddenly the other man turned and quickly strode away. Alex hesitated, torn between the desire to chase the man down and demand answers as to why he was watching them or to stay and make sure the women were safe.

      “Is everything okay?” Chelsea asked as she came up and stood beside him.

      “You tell me,” he answered, keeping his voice low enough so that only she could hear him. “There was a man watching us—Braves cap, shaggy blond hair. I think he was on our flight—but he just walked away rather quickly and disappeared toward the northern observation area.” He saw Chelsea’s face visibly pale at his words and she took a step back. He took a step forward. “Do you know the guy?”

      Chelsea shook her head. “I don’t know anyone in Hawaii.”

      “Are you sure? I’d say he’s about thirty years old. Dark eyes, heavy. Probably a drinker by the look of his face. He seemed dangerous.”

      Chelsea’s hands started shaking at his words and she quickly thrust them into the pockets of the jacket. “Maybe we should get Miss Abigail back to the hotel now, just to be safe.”

      Alex nodded, keeping a wary eye on Chelsea. “You seem pretty scared for someone who claims not to know the man.”

      Chelsea raised her eyes and took another step back. “I don’t know anyone in Hawaii,” she repeated. “I’ll finish packing things up so we can go.” She turned abruptly and quickly started putting up the folding chairs, effectively ending their conversation. Alex paused for a moment, torn between pushing her further for more information and letting the subject drop for now. He finally moved to her side and starting packing up his own chair, but didn’t ask her any more questions. Miss Abigail was close enough to overhear them and Alex didn’t want to upset or worry the elderly lady. But talk they would, as soon as they returned to the hotel. It was time to get some answers, whether Chelsea wanted to give them or not.

      It didn’t take them long to get Miss Abigail ensconced in the car and within a few minutes they were on the road, heading back down the mountain. Alex continued his perusal of Miss Abigail’s assistant as he drove, listening carefully to every word she uttered in the hope that she would give more of herself away. Although she always had a kind word for Miss Abigail, he noticed that she never said anything personal about herself or her history during any of the conversations.

      Alex eased around a bend in the road, then noticed a black SUV coming up fast behind him. The road was narrow with no space to pass, but the other driver was apparently in a hurry and immediately started riding his bumper. Alex tapped the brake and glanced in his mirror, catching sight of a man’s silhouette in the driver’s seat. He couldn’t see the man’s features, but did note that he was wearing a baseball cap and dark glasses. A wave of apprehension swept over him. Was it the man with the Braves cap?

      Instead of backing off when Alex slowed, the SUV came closer. Suddenly both Chelsea and Miss Abigail noticed Alex’s concern and looked behind them to see what was happening.

      “Why is that man so close?” Miss Abigail asked, her tone filled with worry, her eyes wide.

      “He must be in an awfully big hurry,” Chelsea added. She leaned closer to the window. “Is that the same man you saw at the park?”

      “I think so,” Alex said tightly. He kept his eye on the SUV and at the same time handed Chelsea his cell phone. “Call 9-1-1. This guy seems determined to cause us trouble today.”

      Suddenly the car lurched as the SUV slammed into the rear bumper. Both women screamed and Alex tightened his grip on the wheel and tried to control the car on the narrow, dangerous road. Was this maniac trying to kill them all?