Page 81 of Shiver

She didn’t move an inch, letting him hover close enough that she could smell his cologne. Something cheap. “Cool, isn’t it?” She raised her voice an octave and tipped her head flirtatiously to the side. She flipped her hair over her shoulder. With her blond bombshell looks, she’d learned early on that if she threw in a touch of ditz, men tended to be easily distracted and to seriously underestimate her.

Most men that is. But not Kyle. He always saw right through her.

The UPS driver grinned, 100-watts of dazzling brightness, and suddenly he was more interested in her than in her house, which was exactly what she’d wanted.

“You all alone out here?” he asked, his light blue eyes twinkling. Eyes that almost looked like Kyle’s, but they weren’t quite as vibrant or as dark.

“Why? You offering to keep me company?” she asked, shaking off the image of deep blue that instantly filled her mind and soured her heart.

His eyelids lowered to half-mast, eyes darkening as his gaze dragged slowly down her body. Heat and desire rolled off him—she felt it like a ten-ton truck barreling down on her, moving through her and making her tingle.Everywhere.

For an insane moment she was sorely tempted. It had been a long time since she’d had large, strong hands on her skin. Not since before the explosion.

Not since Kyle.

She shook off the impression and closed her mind. She no longer wanted to absorb his feelings, or accept a psychic reading of his emotions. “Do you have something for me?” she asked coolly.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, hitching up his pants.

She looked pointedly at the box he held in his hands and raised her brows.

He followed her gaze. “Yeah. Right.” He handed her the small package and the electronic ‘DIAD’ clipboard.

She spied her father’s name and address printed on the shipping form. More than anyone else, her father would never send anyone to her house without warning her first. She frowned, scrawled her name across the device and handed it back to him, then quickly shut and locked the door.

She peered out the peephole, waiting impatiently until she heard his retreat down the stairs, then with two fingers pushed aside the blinds and peered out the front window. He eased his muscular self into his truck and drove down the road. She replaced the Glock in its sconce then picked up her satellite phone and hit the speed dial number for her father’s island estate in the Puget Sound.

It was a risk to call his home, but she took the chance anyway. If someone was monitoring his phone lines, they could pinpoint her location within minutes. She was crazy to be taking this chance after everything she’d done to ‘disappear.’ But something was not right.

The phone continued to ring on the other end. Three times. Four. Five. After the sixth ring, she stared down at the number in the display making sure she’d dialed correctly. Her father had a staff. Someone was always there to answer the phone. His housekeeper, Mary, or even the gardener. Dread tightened Genie’s grip on the receiver. She disconnected the line.

Something was wrong at the estate.

Something was wrong with her dad. Carefully, she placed the package on the table, and then hurried to the closet and took down a black plastic carrying case. She flipped the latches, opened the case, and hooked up the portable RTR-4 x-ray device it held, and scanned the package. No power source. No bomb.

She went to the nearest drawer, pulled out her Ka-Bar and gingerly sliced through the packaging tape and with the tip of her blade carefully opened the box. A large diamond-shaped crystal necklace sat nestled within burlap. Her eyes widened as she stared at the crystal. The last time she’d seen it, she’d been twelve. When she and her sisters, Cat and Becca, had been told their mother had died in a car accident. That she wasn’t coming home.

As they’d held one another and wept, their father had held up the necklace by its delicate gold chain and assured them that, like the crystal in their mother’s necklace, he would always be there to watch after and guide them. They could be certain of that, and certain of him and each other. She’d believed him. So had Becca and Cat. And yet, somehow they’d all gotten lost.

Genie held the crystal up to the light. Prisms of color bounced off the walls. For a second she let her finger graze the cold hard surface of the stone. An image of Becca immediately popped into her mind, laughing, her long blond hair flying in the breeze. Pressure pushed on the back of Genie’s eyes and she pinched the bridge of her nose to stop it. Her sister was dead. This was no time for sentimental reminiscing. She stuffed the necklace into her pocket and dug through the box. Nothing else was in it. No note or explanation for why her father would suddenly send it to her.

Except the obvious. He was no longer around to watch out for her. She was on her own.

She paced back and forth. What should she do? She knew what she wanted to do, but it was dangerous. Foolish. But since he hadn’t answered the phone, it was the only way she could be sure her father wasn’t in trouble. She couldn’t hide out here in the desert if he needed her.

She climbed the stairs into the loft and pulled a backpack off the top shelf of her closet and threw a couple changes of clothes into it. She had to go to her father’s estate and see for herself. It would take her too many hours to get to the island. If she could even get on a flight.

“Damn,” she muttered. She couldn’t wait that long. She sat on the bed and picked up the phone again.

Her dad had assured her it was untraceable, but suddenly she wasn’t so sure. If Dad was in trouble, what else might be wrong?

She called the direct line of Josh Cameron, her old team leader and an associate of her father’s in the National Counter-Terrorism Agency—known to everyone as the CTA—her teeth gnawing away her patience as she waited for him to answer.

“Cameron, here.” His tone was tight, which meant he had a stranglehold on his nerves. Something was going down.

“Cameron, what do you know about my father?” She didn’t bother to identify herself or waste time on pleasantries.

He paused. Another thing he’d always done whenever he needed a moment to choose his words carefully. Damn. She stood, pacing back and forth, quickly covering the length of the small room. “Tell me.”

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