Striking Distance. Debra Webb

      Lucas leaned forward, braced his forearms on his knees. “Is there a possibility that you picked it up by accident. Didn’t notice that one of the flavors was chocolate.”

      The weariness that settled over her expression then tied his insides into knots. “You know, I’ve considered that possibility over and over.” She clasped her hands together in her lap. “I’m nearly certain I didn’t...but then I can’t be sure.” She looked at Lucas. “I’ve even wondered if I’m losing my mind entirely. Having memory lapses maybe.” She looked away and shook her head. “I just don’t know.”

      “Yours are the only prints we found on the carton.”

      Her gaze met his once more, and the anxiety there almost undid him completely.

      “But that doesn’t really mean anything,” he hastened to add. “Since he didn’t leave his prints anywhere else, either.”

      He didn’t want her to go through another moment of this. Couldn’t bear it. “Victoria, I think it’s time for us to make those plans. I’d like to get you away from the danger. I don’t like how close he’s gotten.”

      She appeared to consider his suggestion for a few moments, but before she could respond, Logan came to the door of the room. Lucas pushed to his feet and strode across the room to see what news Logan had brought. When he moved into the entry hall, farther away from Victoria, Lucas’s tension ratcheted up a notch.

      “I just received additional information on the brand of the ice cream.”

      His people were analyzing the chocolate ice cream from every standpoint, from taste to the manufacturer.

      “I assume it’s a local manufacturer.”

      The look in Logan’s eyes set him even closer to the edge.

      “It used to be. But that brand hasn’t been manufactured at all for more than ten years.”

      Chocolate. Little Jimmy Colby’s favorite. Even the brand was the one Victoria remembered buying for her only child. But it had been off the market for ten years.

      “So he’s been keeping it all this time,” Lucas suggested.

      Logan nodded. “The age of the product would be consistent with that theory.”

      The memory of those hours on St. Gabriel Island when he’d been face-to-face with Leberman for the first time in nearly two decades came pouring into his mind. The bastard hadn’t said much...had apparently gotten his jollies from merely watching Lucas squirm when faced with the realization that Victoria was somewhere on that island and he couldn’t protect her. Lucas hadn’t cared if the bastard killed him but he couldn’t bear the idea of him hurting Victoria any more than he already had.

      Something had been different.

      For all those years Leberman had lain in wait. Then, out of the blue, he struck. He could have killed Lucas... possibly even Victoria. But he’d disappeared instead. He’d played them. Lured them into his trap, dangled the possibility of death, then disappeared, leaving someone else to finish the task. But that had been a ploy. Leberman had known the effort would fail. Everything that happened on that island had been a precursor. Some sort of test or preliminary tactic for the real thing. An appetizer to the main course, so to speak.

      He’d killed James Colby fifteen years ago. Lucas was certain of that. Though Leberman had not claimed responsibility he’d left his calling card. James had been tortured relentlessly then shot twice, once in the back of the head execution-style, then once in the heart. The first shot had killed him...the second hadn’t even been necessary. It had made a statement from the killer.

      From Leberman.

      Just as the ice cream did now.

      He was here.

      He’d devastated Victoria all those years ago. Could have devised a way to kill her a dozen times over since...he was far too cunning for anyone to believe otherwise. But he’d chosen not to strike. The little drama he’d set in motion on the island had been to prove something. Otherwise why would he have simply walked away, leaving both of them still alive? Lucas’s gaze narrowed as he thought about that. The answer was suddenly so simple.

      He’d played out that whole ridiculous scenario to make sure Victoria was ready for the next step. He’d waited all these years to make sure he could hurt her as deeply as he desired. She’d needed time to get over losing both her child and her husband...to finally get on with her life. He’d waited for her to fall in love again.

      With Lucas.

      It all made sense now.

      Killing her years ago when she’d already lost so much that she’d wished for death anyway would have lacked the zenith he yearned for...the fulfillment he needed.

      So he’d waited. Waited for her to feel again.

      Waited for the ultimate moment.

      When Lucas was prepared to make her his once and for all.

      The weight of the epiphany crushed down against him.

      The game this time would be for keeps. Lucas could feel it in every fiber of his being.

      If the bastard had his way, both Victoria and Lucas would die.

      Soon.

      But first he would play, draw out his pleasure.

      Lucas gritted his teeth against the fury that whipped through him...and that one obsession would be his doom.

      Lucas would see to it.

      Errol Leberman was dead already...he just didn’t know it yet.

      Chapter 11

      Tasha jerked awake.

      She sat up straight and took stock of her environment.

      The room was dark.

      She couldn’t be sure how much time had passed but she was certain it should be daylight by now.

      The perpetual darkness, along with the dank, musty smell confirmed her suspicions that she was in a cellar or basement. Someplace underground.

      She lifted her right foot, crossed it over her knee, the metal on metal clanging a noisy reminder that she was shackled to the cot. Rubbing at her ankle where the metal chafed her skin, she stretched her neck first one way and then another. She had a hell of a crick in her neck and shoulder from sitting in such an awkward position while she dozed. Her side still hurt from the beating she’d taken during Martin’s little exercise. But she’d slept, anyway.

      She hadn’t meant to sleep at all, but exhaustion had finally claimed her after hours of trying to get loose. He’d taken her boots and her tiny purse, leaving her with nothing to pick the lock or attempt to pry it open.

      After feeling around on the cold concrete floor and stretching the chain as far as she could and finding nothing, she’d admitted defeat and plopped back down on the cot to wait. She’d decided to conserve her energy for kicking ass.

      She set her jaw firmly when she considered the heartless bastard who’d locked her down here. When he showed up again she intended to let him have it, shackled or not. To punctuate her heated thought she jerked on the confining chain with all her might.

      “Don’t waste your time.”

      The deep voice cut through the darkness like a knife, piercing her defenses. She gasped in spite of herself. Dammit. She hated even the implication of weakness. Hated even worse that he could rattle her so easily. How had he sneaked up on her like that? She’d always been a very light sleeper.

      Since Maverick hadn’t shown up, she could assume that being underground had silenced the tiny electronic pulse her tracking device emitted. He had taken her cell phone and likely turned it off.

      Just her luck he had a brain to go with the awesome bod.