Road to Danger (Danger Incorporated Book 8) Read online

  She stopped on the sidewalk in front of the building, realizing Carter wasn’t in or around the car. He must have gone inside for that pit stop and that meant she was alone. Not that there was anyone to be worried about. The rest area had cleared out while she was in the restroom but it was well-lit and quiet. The only two vehicles that were left were the sedan to their right and Mallory and Carter. The driver couldn’t be far away because he’d left the driver’s side door open.

  Hopefully her date had left her door unlocked so she could wait in the much warmer car. She headed for the passenger side and reached for the handle but her hand fell away and her stomach roiled in her abdomen. Rushing to the back of the car next to them and almost tripping over her own feet, she found a man in a pool of what appeared to be his own blood. A trickle of the red liquid dripped from the corner of his mouth and he reached up to grab her arms, his grip surprisingly strong. There was a metallic smell to the air and bile rose in her throat, making any words she might have tried to speak impossible.

  “Help m–”

  Kneeling next to him, Mallory fought down the nausea and panic. Her heart was racing and the blood roared in her ears, blocking out the rest of the world. She had to keep her wits about her and think straight. She sucked in a crisis and this was a big one. Should she try CPR or mouth to mouth? He was struggling to breathe but there was a large wet stain on the front of his shirt that made her think chest compressions were a bad idea. Her own clothes were becoming red and sodden as well as his fingers dug into the fabric of her jacket.

  With one hand, she tried to pull her phone from her purse but her entire body was shaking, making it ten times harder than it should have been. “I’ll call for help. I’ll call 911. Just hold on, okay? Okay?”

  Her voice came out as a squeak but the man didn’t answer. He made a few guttural and none too healthy-sounding noises as she fumbled with her phone, desperately trying to hurry while remembering her passcode at the same time. A gasp came from his lips and then he was quiet. Strangely his grip didn’t loosen but his pale skin and still chest told her that he was gone. She was going to call 911 regardless but they probably didn’t need to hurry.

  A man had just died in her arms.

  Chapter Three

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  Red and blue flashing lights illuminated the parking lot of the rest stop, alerting anyone driving by that they could speed without worrying about being pulled over.

  Because every cop within a hundred-mile radius had to be at the rest stop.

  Carter counted at least half a dozen cop cars, a forensic van, and two rescue units. He and Mallory had told their stories to no less than three different officers of varying rank. Frankly, he didn’t have much to tell them. He hadn’t seen it happen or knew who did it but surely they had cameras at these rest stops?

  A sympathetic ambulance driver had wrapped Mallory up in a blanket and taken her inside the building where it was warmer. She appeared slightly dazed as if in shock and he wouldn’t have blamed her if she had been. A man had died in her arms and that was going to absolutely change a person. When Carter had come out of the building and found her sitting on the ground, her clothes covered in blood and a man lying prone on the pavement, for a moment he’d thought…well…that she’d done something…terrible. He didn’t know her well, after all.

  It had taken some doing through her tears and sobs to get the whole story. She’d already called 911 so he gently pulled her away from the body, moving her so she was leaning against his car. He’d checked the man’s pulse and breathing before starting CPR but blood simply gushed out of the wounds in his chest. Carter had tried mouth to mouth but the victim was unresponsive. By the time the ambulance and cops arrived, he was sure there wasn’t anything that they could do.

  Sliding closer to Mallory on the bench, he tentatively placed his arm around her shoulders. She looked so fragile and scared like she could break at any moment. Visibly trembling, she didn’t shake off the gesture of comfort but she didn’t respond either. She was somewhere far away, perhaps still sitting next to that poor man on the ground.

  “Honey, can I get you anything? Something to drink? How about some water?”

  For a minute he thought she hadn’t heard him but then she turned to answer, her cheeks wet with tears. “I’m alright.”

  She sounded like Kermit the Frog so obviously she wasn’t fine. The good news though was that she’d answered him. She was back in the present and that was progress.

  “It’s okay to be upset. It’s completely normal.”

  Why did he say that? It sounded so fucking lame. She could do or act any way she wanted to. She didn’t need his permission.

  I suck at comforting people.

  “He was so pale.”

  The words came out as barely a whisper and Carter had to bend his head to be able to hear her.

  “He’d lost a lot of blood, honey.”

  At least that’s what Carter assumed. He was no doctor, although he’d seen some nasty accidents on the construction sites he managed.

  “He asked me to help him.” She shook her head, her hair falling over her tearstained face. “No, he tried to ask me but he couldn’t get the words out. He just made this horrible sound and then went still.”

  Having already heard this part of her story, Carter’s own chest tightened in sympathy. This shouldn’t have happened to her. If he hadn’t gone inside to take a leak she wouldn’t have been out there alone.

  “It’s my fault,” he said bluntly. “If I hadn’t gone inside this wouldn’t have happened. A few seconds earlier and you could have been killed.”

  She looked up at him, shaking her head. “If you had been outside, you’d probably be dead, too.”

  That had occurred to him but he liked to think that he could hold his own with an assailant. Between him and the other guy, they could have taken the attacker.

  Whoever “he” might be.

  “I’m just glad you weren’t there. I’m so fucking sorry this happened to you.”

  She tried to smile through the tears. “I think that poor man is having a much worse night.”

  There it was. She was now officially everything that had been promised. She was funny too, and at a moment that definitely needed lightening. If she could laugh while she cried she was a strong woman. At least that’s what his mother always said.

  Another uniformed officer approached them wearing a grim expression. His name tag said Sergeant C. Roy.

  “Hello, I’m Sergeant Charles Roy. You two were here when Mr. Montgomery was stabbed and killed? Can you tell us what happened?”

  Carter wasn’t in the best of moods. They wouldn’t let Mallory and himself leave even though they’d already given a statement. He was beginning to wonder if they were suspects. Should he call an attorney?

  “We’ve already told what we know and saw,” Carter replied, trying to keep his voice even and friendly but pointing out the officers they’d spoken to. “To him. Him. Her. Oh, and him, too. Did they not write it down?”

  The sergeant had the decency to look uncomfortable. “I’m sure they did but I’m hoping to hear the story straight from you. If you don’t mind?”

  “Then can we go home?” Mallory asked softly, her voice thick with tears. She’d been put through the wringer and this guy wanted her to relive it one more time for the entertainment of the cheap seats.

  The officer looked over his shoulder briefly. “I hope so. Now, Miss Cook, would you mind stepping over here with me?”

  Her fingers tightened on Carter’s arm and he pulled her a little closer, hopefully reassuring her that he wasn’t going anywhere willingly. His cousin was a former detective so he knew what they were trying to do. Honestly, they should have done it long before now. It was standard procedure to separate them and get their stories so that the cops could compare them. They’d already fucked that up so too bad. “Miss Cook is a little unsteady right now. I’m sure you understand. She’s had something of a shock tonight.”
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  “I really need to speak with–”

  “We’ve already told our stories in front of each other,” Carter interrupted. “It’s too late to separate us.”

  Now the officer looked not only uncomfortable but embarrassed. He checked his notebook for a moment before speaking. “Mr. Anderson, I’m now in charge of this– Wait, are you one of those Andersons?”

  Carter had been waiting for it and was only surprised the question hadn’t come before now. It was the story of his life. People treated him one way and then figured out who he was – through no help from him – and then he was treated a completely different way. Usually much better. Money talked, after all, and the Anderson family had stockpiled some serious cash and assets in the last two generations. He hated this part but there was no ducking his heritage. He’d learned to be proud and unapologetic about being an Anderson.

  “I am. Is that important to this discussion?”

  It was, and they both knew it, but Carter wasn’t going to give this guy any help.

  “Wait here.”

  The sergeant quickly turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Carter and Mallory alone again. A much preferred state, although he’d rather be home. If they were going to sit here in this fluorescent light hell then at least he had good company.

  “What was he talking about?” Mallory’s brows pinched together and she pulled away slightly. “Those Andersons? Are you part of a crime family or something?”

  The way people reacted Carter sometimes felt like it. The majority didn’t care one way or the other but there were a couple of other camps they could fall into. One was of the opinion that the Andersons must be doing something unethical or illegal to have made so much money. The second was that they should be feared or revered.

  Where would this woman fall?

  “My family owns a ranch and several businesses in the Tremont area. I run the construction arm of Anderson Industries. In addition, my cousin Jason was a DEA agent and my other cousin West was the head of detectives and is now mayor.”

  She glanced at the cop who was in deep conversation with another law enforcement officer and then back at Carter.

  “So I’m kind of not sure why all of that matters. Does he know your cousins?”

  “He might know West.” Shit, he needed to just lay it on the line. “The Andersons…give to many causes and also to local, state, and national politicians that we support. The officer may feel that it’s better to tread lightly in this situation.”

  Finally she nodded as if she understood. “You know people in high places. Is that what you’re trying not to say?”

  “Pretty much,” he admitted. “Sometimes people treat me differently because of my last name.”

  “What do you think he’s talking about over there? Is he going to let us leave?”

  “Maybe,” Carter said, although he was doubtful. They wouldn’t be going anywhere until the police confirmed that they didn’t have anything to do with the murder, and there was only one way to do that. The security cameras located inside and around the property. “I sent my cousin a text to ask for advice and he said to sit tight and cooperate. I guess that’s what we’ll do. But if you need anything, just let me know and I’ll make sure you get it.”

  “I’d like to go to the ladies’ room and wash up. Do you think they’d let me?”

  The forensics team had already examined both of them head to toe and taken their clothes as evidence, giving them each a pair of sweats and sweatshirt to wear. There wasn’t any reason she couldn’t wash the blood off of her skin. He wouldn’t mind doing that too.

  Carter started to try to hail the sergeant but then stopped when he saw a familiar face striding through the doors of the building. The family attorney Bryce Franklin. West must have called him. Sagging with relief, he gave Bryce a wave.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see a lawyer before. Did West call you?”

  “He did. This is a nasty situation. Have they taken your statements yet?”

  Sighing heavily, Carter pointed to the sergeant. “Several times. They’ve taken our clothes and they’ve taken our statements, but he wants to do it again. Separate this time. I don’t want Mallory to be on her own. She’s been through more than enough tonight.”

  Bryce turned his attention to Mallory, giving her an encouraging smile. “You’ve had a difficult night so let me see what I can do to get you out of here, okay? I’m Bryce Franklin, by the way.”

  He held out his hand and Mallory started to extend hers, then pulled it back with a wince as she realized she still had blood on her skin. “Mallory Cook. And thank you.”

  “Just hang in there. I’ve got this.”

  Carter hoped to hell he did. They hadn’t killed that man but there was someone out there who had. That’s who the cops needed to be focusing on, not two innocent people on a mediocre date.

  Chapter Four

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  Carter unlocked the front door of Mallory’s little townhouse in Green Pine and ushered her inside. She’d tried to do it herself but her hands were still shaking from her experience at the rest stop. He’d offered to call someone to stay with her but she didn’t want to wake any of her friends in the middle of the night. Her parents had semi-retired and spent the winters in Florida so they couldn’t be of any comfort tonight. At least until morning, she was on her own.

  He didn’t like that one bit. He’d been raised to be a gentleman and it didn’t feel very chivalrous to leave her here all by herself when she was so shaken up. Only someone mean and uncaring would dump her here and wave as they drove away.

  “I can stay,” Carter offered again for the sixth or seventh time. She’d steadfastly refused, although he could feel her weakening with every denial that she needed help. The closer he came to leaving, the more real it was becoming to her. “It’s no big deal. I could just sack out on the couch.”

  It looked overstuffed and comfy with its striped cushions and multitude of throw pillows. On any other occasion, he could definitely catch a few zzz’s there. Tonight? That was a hell of a lot more iffy. As for Mallory, she didn’t look like she ever wanted to close her eyes again.

  “I’m fine,” she replied, trying to appear stoic but the words came out tremulous and thready. “I’ll be okay. Maybe I’ll just watch television or something until the sun comes up.”

  I’d be an asshole to leave her. Maybe I could just sleep in the car outside.

  “That sounds like a terrible plan. Being frightened for hours isn’t a good option.”

  The corners of her mouth turned up slightly. “It’s four in the morning. The sun will be up in a couple of hours.”

  This time of year it would be more like three and a half but the details didn’t matter much. The truth was he didn’t want to leave her and she didn’t want him to go. She was just being stubborn. There was no guarantee that the light of day would make her feel any better.

  Carter opened his mouth to reply but didn’t get the chance. A metallic whooshing sound had her crying out in fear and she whirled around, her entire body tensed as if for fight or flight. He wasn’t sure which and they didn’t need to find out. In two seconds he’d crossed the short distance between them and wrapped his arms around her trembling body, pulling her close. Despite being stuck in a dingy rest stop most of the night she still smelled lovely, like vanilla and something softly floral. It might just have been her shampoo but he was like many men and adored that women smelled so much better than their male counterparts.

  “Easy there, honey. It’s just your refrigerator. Probably the ice maker, to be exact. Mine makes the same noise.”

  Mallory took a few deep breaths and then eased out of his arms, putting some distance between them. “Yes, it’s just the ice maker. Sorry. I guess…I am a little jumpy.”

  She was a whole lot more than that and she knew it.

  “There’s no shame in feeling out of sorts after what you’ve experienced tonight. Anyone would feel the same way.”
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  Not answering right away, she rubbed her hands along her arms as if she was cold. The house wasn’t freezing but the thermostat could definitely stand to be bumped up a few degrees. “I guess so.”

  “There’s no guessing here. I’ve seen grown men lose their lunch at far less.”

  Her brows shot up and her expression turned suspicious. “For real?”

  “Absolutely. One of my men on a construction site hurt himself. I won’t go into the details but he was bleeding from his hand and another guy saw it and puked. He couldn’t take it. So you’re doing better than he is. Not once have you vomited.”

  “I wanted to a couple of times.”

  So did he.

  “But you didn’t. You’re strong but maybe this isn’t the exact moment to prove that. No one would blame you if you wanted to wrap yourself up in a blanket and drink hot chocolate with lots of marshmallows.”

  That’s what his mother would have done for her if she’d been here.

  “That sounds wonderful right now.”

  “I’ll make you some,” he offered, relieved to see that she was beginning to be honest about how shook she was. Denial wasn’t going to help. “I make a mean hot chocolate.”

  It was an Anderson family special recipe.

  “Can you make it out of yogurt and apples?”

  “No, why?”

  She nodded toward the kitchen. “Because that’s all I have to eat. I’m a rotten cook and usually eat out. I only have the yogurt and apples for when I need a snack.”

  Carter couldn’t imagine any woman admitting that she couldn’t cook. They all seemed to want to make him dinner and show off what a good little wife they’d be. Little did they realize that fixing him a meal wasn’t any part of his criteria for a lifetime mate.

  “You can’t cook? Really?”