Treacherous Intent. Camy Tang

The two of us could help each other out.”

      Again, she blinked at him. Now she looked wary. “Help each other to do what?”

      “Figure out who those men are, and why they want Joslyn so badly.” Liam looked deep into her eyes, wanting her to understand how sincere he was. “Let me help you.”

      * * *

      Those dark blue eyes were almost hypnotic.

      Elisabeth couldn’t look away from Liam. Finally, she had to close her eyes and turn her head away.

      He wanted to protect her. It had been so long, she’d forgotten what it was like to rely on someone else, to not have to always stand on her own two feet.

      But trusting someone wasn’t who she was anymore. She’d had to learn that lesson the hard way—she wasn’t about to open herself up to that again.

      Still, she had to admit she was touched by the deferential way he spoke to her, as if he really respected her abilities and wasn’t just placating her. Most of the men she encountered—the ones who had betrayed her and the abusers who came to the shelter in search of their victims—were condescending in the way they treated women. It surprised her to find one who wasn’t.

      And really, who was she kidding? What chance did she have against eight armed men? She might be stubborn, but she wasn’t stupid.

      She kept her expression cool, calculating. “What did you have in mind? I’m not much into someone shadowing my every step.”

      He smiled and it transformed him, softened his wide jaw, making his eyes gleam. “I promise I’m house-trained.”

      “Good, because I just got a new apartment here in Sonoma.” A muscle in her neck spasmed. She hadn’t meant to share that. There was something about Liam, some aura of safety he emitted that enveloped her, too, and made her let down her guard. She couldn’t afford to do that.

      Liam looked at the people milling around, and with a gentle hand on her elbow, guided her down the long driveway.

      “For starters, let’s see if we can reconstruct what happened with Joslyn. How did she find the shelter?”

      “I have a few contacts in Los Angeles, some churches and shelters. They refer women to this shelter if they have an especially vindictive or persistent abuser.”

      “You have no idea where Joslyn might have gone from here?”

      Elisabeth chewed her lip. Was Liam truly trustworthy? But she trusted Detective Carter—she’d seen him handle some of the men who had found their victims at the shelter, and the other volunteers had always spoken highly of him. From his manner with Liam, Detective Carter obviously had respect for him. “I’m not sure,” Elisabeth said slowly, “but when I was coaching her, I mentioned Oregon once as an option, and she seemed interested.”

      “Oregon’s a big state.”

      “I also taught her how to hide, and it might not be safe for us to even try to find her. I don’t want to lead these men straight to her. If it comes down to it, I won’t risk Joslyn’s safety. I’d rather work on this end and try to find out who they are and why they’re after her.”

      “Joslyn didn’t say anything about who she was running from?”

      “No.” Elisabeth thought back to her short few days with Joslyn. “She had been badly beaten about a week before. She had bruises fading from her arms and shoulders, a cut on her face, a broken rib—I think she’d been kicked—and a broken hand. Her injuries had all been bandaged up by some clinic or emergency room.”

      Liam’s expression had become grave and hard as she listed Joslyn’s injuries. “Her ex-boyfriend did that to her?”

      “She seemed afraid of him, but at the same time, I thought there was some anger behind all that fear, which is unusual.” She then remembered something. “She might have had ligature marks on her wrists. At least, they looked that way to me, and they were her freshest bruises.”

      “He tied her?” His voice was muffled by his tight jaw.

      Men’s anger used to make Elisabeth flinch. As she’d regained her self-esteem, she’d had to train herself to face it with calm confidence, remembering she was no longer that victim. But Liam’s anger, directed at the man who’d hurt Joslyn, made Elisabeth realize he was someone who wouldn’t stand for anyone lifting a finger to her. What would it be like to have someone who wanted to guard her and care for her? She hadn’t had anyone like that since she was sixteen, when her mother died.

      “Some abusers do that, but it’s unusual,” she said.

      “The way I see it, the only way you or I will ever be safe is to figure out what’s going on,” Liam said.

      “It sounds better than just sitting around and waiting,” she admitted. “Let’s talk to some of the women at the shelter to see if anyone knows anything about Joslyn.”

      Liam nodded, but as they walked back up the driveway toward the house, he said, “We’d better be discreet. Detective Carter might not appreciate us doing our own investigation when the police are on it already.”

      “I’m a private investigator. This is my job.” They walked in silence for a few moments, then she said, “You’re pretty friendly with Detective Carter.”

      “He’s known my family for a long time. When I started my skip-tracing business, he sent some work my way.”

      “I do some freelance for the San Francisco FBI,” she found herself saying, and bit her lip to keep herself from blurting out more. What was it about Liam that made her so eager to overshare about her life? “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I was bragging.”

      His eyes twinkled at her. “An occasional dose of humility is good for a man’s character.”

      She didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t often met men who could make fun of themselves this way.

      At the back of the house, there was a fenced-in recreation area for the residents, and Elisabeth knew the key combination to open the gate. She nodded to Witton—one of the house security guards—who stood watching over the children on the play set. As soon as some of the women saw her, they came up to talk.

      “Are you all right?” Kalea, a staff member at the house, grasped Elisabeth’s hand, but she also cast a curious look at Liam.

      “I’m fine. This is Liam O’Neill. He’s a skip tracer and he works with Detective Carter.”

      Several of the women visibly relaxed.

      Elisabeth gave an abbreviated account of what had happened.

      “Joslyn?” Kalea’s eyebrows rose. “But she left weeks ago.”

      “Do those men still think she’s here?” Witton’s dark brows lowered over his deep-set eyes.

      “Not sure,” Liam said. “Detective Carter is assigning some officers to watch over the house, though.”

      “What do they want with her?” Kalea asked.

      “We don’t know,” Elisabeth said.

      Kalea looked thoughtful. “She didn’t say much when she was here.”

      “She enjoyed playing with the children,” one of the women spoke up.

      “Miss Joslyn was sick,” said Kayoi, a precocious little girl with large eyes and a narrow chin.

      Her mother tried to hush her, but Elisabeth said, “No, I’d like to know what Kayoi saw.” She knelt in front of the girl. “What do you mean, she was sick?” From what Elisabeth could tell, Joslyn had been healthy, aside from her injuries.

      “She was throwing up in the bathroom,” Kayoi said. “Early in the morning, before breakfast.”

      Joslyn could have been vomiting