Not a Moment Too Soon. Linda O. Johnston

convinced.

      She turned on her computer, a laptop she left set up on her desk connected to a printer, then waited while it booted up and Hunter paced impatiently. In a minute, she got into the file where the story had been saved.

      “Look over my shoulder as I do this.” She scrolled till she came to a part near the end that was a turning point, where Andee had nearly been found. She deleted everything after that and quickly wrote a new, happy ending. What would Grandma O’Leary say about it if Shauna could talk to her? Nothing good, she was sure. “Okay with that?” she asked Hunter.

      “Good enough.” Hunter’s voice sounded grudging. “Go ahead and save it.”

      Her brief laugh was ironic as she tried to do just that. She closed the file, then opened it again, going right to the page where she’d made her changes.

      The old ending was still there.

      “This isn’t something new, Hunter. The computer—any computer I use—won’t save a different ending. Or any other changes, for that matter.”

      “Let me try.”

      “Sure.”

      She had barely gotten out of her seat before Hunter slid into it. It was too tall for him, but he didn’t take time to adjust it. He looked like an adorable giant, his legs cramped beneath the desk. His fingers flew over the keyboard. She knew he was skilled in the use of computers—as well as in the use of things less cerebral. Like firearms and other weapons. She’d seen him in training when he’d been a cop. And his hands on her body…his skill in that had driven her mindless so often, so passionately, with wanting him.

      How could she let herself think of that now?

      “There.” He sounded satisfied. Her thoughts back under control, she read over his shoulder. Though his new ending was different from hers, a lot shorter, it was similar, and of course Andee was fine at the conclusion. The biggest change was that he had added some directions for finding Big T—information that would let Hunter track him down when it was all over. “Do you have a floppy disk or CD that we can save onto?” She silently removed a floppy from a file cabinet drawer. Hunter both saved his story on the hard drive and used the “save as” command to copy the revised story onto the disk.

      And when he checked both the hard drive and the floppy, the old version of the story was there.

      “Damn. This can’t be.”

      Shauna watched as he tried again. And then tried something else.

      To no avail, of course. She knew better.

      “What have you done to your damned computer?” He rose and towered over her threateningly. The slight scent emanating from him wasn’t simply the aroma she recognized, of man and soap and Hunter. It was sharper, more bitter—like feral fear.

      She’d never been afraid of Hunter, not even at his angriest. Even now, she did not believe he would hurt her…physically.

      But he shouldn’t have the power to wound her emotionally, either. Not today. He doesn’t, she told herself.

      Yet that didn’t stop pain worse than if he’d actually assaulted her.

      “I’m sorry, Hunter.” She reached out and gently touched his arm. It was hard, tensed by his anger. And warm.

      She remembered when he had held her in his arms tenderly. When tenderness had turned to lust. Don’t go there, she reminded herself again.

      “I know you don’t want to believe it,” she continued. “Neither do I. But I’ve lived with this a very long time. These stories can’t be changed. In fact, my Grandma O’Leary warned me, when she was alive, that I shouldn’t even try.” Of course Shauna had tried anyway, especially with her father. “It could be too dangerous.”

      “For you? Well, what about the victims of your stories?”

      She couldn’t stand much more of this. She knew he was lashing out because of his own misery. You’re a therapist. Counsel him. Better yet, counsel yourself.

      Her mind fished frantically for the right words. Don’t take it personally came to mind.

      As if she could help it. But she managed to move her hand from his arm and take a step back.

      “Tell you what,” she said a lot more calmly than she felt. “Leave now. Take the story, if you think there are clues in it or that it’ll help you some other way. Keep in touch, and if anything different happens from what’s written, let me know. I’ll enter it, then let you know if it saves on the computer and changes the ending. Okay?”

      A phone rang. Hunter’s cell, which he yanked from the back pocket of his khaki trousers. “Yeah?” Shauna couldn’t hear what was being said, but Hunter’s expression turned tormented before going blank again. “Yeah. I’m on my way.” He flipped the phone closed. “That was my assistant Simon. My ex-wife, Margo, is in hysterics about Andee. She’s upset that Simon’s brought in the cops, even someone we know and trust. The kidnapper told her not to, like that kind always does, so she’s distraught. Simon thinks I’d better get there fast to see if I can calm her down.” He snorted. “Fat chance.”

      “But you have to try, of course. I’ll be thinking about you, wishing you—and Andee—well.”

      “You’ll be thinking about me, all right. You’re coming along.”

      She stared. “Why would I do that?”

      “Because of your story. You say you can’t change it. Fine. I know you believe that. I don’t have time to argue.” His laugh was bitter. “I don’t want to believe any of it. But I can’t take chances.”

      Shauna closed her eyes. “I can’t help you, Hunter.” But she knew she was lying. She had become a licensed therapist for just this kind of situation.

      She knew how to help people in crisis situations.

      Especially those whose crises were the subjects of her stories.

      But most were strangers. Hunter wasn’t, despite the years they hadn’t seen each other. She would be too emotionally involved.

      Going with him would be a mistake.

      “Come with me, Shauna. You’ll tell me everything possible about your damned stories. And you’ll work with me to make sure this one doesn’t come true. Got it?”

      “Hunter, I can’t.” She regretted bringing him to her house.

      If they were anywhere else, she’d have fled.

      For that wasn’t the end of it. If he’d continued to demand, or even threatened, she’d have stood her ground.

      But he closed the space between them, reached out and took her hands in his much larger ones, gripping them tightly. She remembered when he’d held her hands before…lovingly.

      His voice, too, sounded full of emotion as he said, “Please, Shauna. Please help me. For Andee’s sake. I’ll beg if I have to, but—”

      She couldn’t stand that. She looked up into his sorrowful green eyes and said something she regretted even as she spoke it. “All right, damn it, Hunter. I’ll come.”

      Chapter 3

      Shauna stared resignedly into the passenger’s side-view mirror. The familiar small-town streets of Oasis receded behind them and, with their disappearance, all sense of serenity and comfort receded from her mind.

      But this wasn’t about her.

      She turned to watch the man sitting beside her. It was about him. His posture was stiff and taut, as if he maintained such discipline over himself that moving a muscle except to steer the car would snap him like a rubber band stretched to the breaking point.

      His expression was as bleak as the rolling desert vista that abutted the highway, and he kept his eyes