Page 70 of Inviting Trouble
Mad relaxed. “That’s actually more normal than stealing candlesticks. You have a backup of all your important work stuff?”
“Of course. I print everything important and leave the duplicates at my place. Never screw up a bride’s special day. My calendar synchs to my phone.”
“Okay, we’ll report that to the police and the insurance should cover it. Let’s check upstairs.”
They toured the mostly empty rooms, opening closets at Hailey’s insistence, finding everything untouched.
“See?” Mad said. “Completely normal. Now you can report the missing laptop and go back to being your happy wedding planner self.”
Hailey gave her a small sheepish smile. “I guess my imagination got the better of me. Thanks for putting up with me last night and today.”
“No problem.”
Hailey went downstairs to her office, where she called to report the missing laptop. Mad wandered back to the kitchen, curious if the fridge was emptied. She opened the refrigerator door and a large hand covered her mouth from behind. She immediately bit that hand, elbowed backward, and twisted out of the hold.
It was a man with long stringy brown hair and a trench coat.
“We already called the cops,” Mad said.
He grabbed a blender off the counter and threw it at her, hurrying toward the back door. She kicked his feet out from under him, and he hit the floor, immediately twisting to grab her ankle.
She went down, hitting her head on the side of the stainless steel prep table. She saw stars for a moment. Her vision cleared. The man held a pocketknife, not huge, maybe a three-inch blade, but the crazy gleam in his eyes had her scrambling to her feet.
“Back off!” she hollered at the top of her lungs so Hailey would hear.
He lunged forward and she sidestepped him easily. She whirled, maneuvering around the prep table to the stove. She grabbed an iron skillet off the stove and felt her cargo shorts snag tight by her left knee. She glanced down to see he’d thrown the knife, which stuck out of the huge side pocket of her shorts.Thanks for handing over your weapon. She dropped the skillet on the stove within reach, twisted and bent to yank out the knife when the man rushed her. Off-balance from her position, her head and shoulder took the impact, slamming to the floor. Light exploded behind her eyelids and then everything went black.
~ ~ ~
Park drove to Ludbury House in Mad’s car, checking up on her even though she told him not to. He didn’t care that she was a black belt. She was a petite thing still recovering from a serious bout of food poisoning. Call him overprotective or paranoid, he didn’t care just as long as she was safe.
He was on Main Street, about a block away, when a gut-deep sense that she was in trouble had him hitting the accelerator. Adrenaline surged through him as he got closer. By the time he pulled into the back parking lot, every part of him was on high alert. He leaped out of the car and raced to the back door. Through the glass he took in a nightmare scene—Mad’s body sprawled on the floor, a gleaming knife next to her, and a large man going through her pockets. Raw anguished fury sent him bursting through the door, barreling toward the man, who looked up in surprise before he backed away. Park leaped over Mad, knocked the guy to the ground, leapt on top of him and pummeled him with his fists in a red haze of rage.
Someone was calling him, someone far away, but he couldn’t stop.
“Park!” the voice rang out, reaching him clear as day. Mad. She was alive.
The haze cleared. He looked down. The guy had a bloody nose but was conscious.
The man spat in his face. “You’re ugly and you’ll burn in hell.”
“Shut up,” Park snapped, grabbing him by the hair and slamming his head into the floor. The man slumped unconscious. Park quickly got off him, kicked the knife away, and rushed to where Mad was now sitting up. He wiped his face with his sleeve. “Where are you hurt? Are you bleeding?”
She got to her feet, wincing. “I hit my head, but otherwise I’m fine.”
He crushed her to him, nearly collapsing with relief. His heart thumped a glorious halleluiah.Alive. Alive. Alive.
A bloodcurdling scream snapped him back to reality. He whirled to face the threat, tucking Mad behind him. But it was just Hailey screaming at the top of her lungs, staring at the unconscious man on the floor.
“Call nine-one-one,” he told her.
She nodded in a jerky fashion, pulled out her cell, and dialed.
“Stay here,” he told Mad.
“Park—” Mad started.
“We’ll talk later.” He stood next to the man, wishing he had some way to restrain him until the cops arrived.
