Unwritten Rules (Phoenix, Ltd. Book 1) Read online

  As far as Carter was concerned, it was pure pie-in-the-sky. He was just glad to have a day without a public event. Herman would handle the negotiations with the producer, and maybe there would be time for a little R & R. His body told him it would be several days before he was back to full strength.

  He’d always been impatient with injuries, but this time he was doubly so. His attacker had raised the stakes, and he couldn’t afford to have his senses dulled by pain or pills. He needed to be fully alert and confident his body would do what he asked of it. There was no telling what form the next assault would take.

  And there would be one. He knew it. He didn’t know when, he didn’t know where, and he didn’t know why. But he knew. And the best way to flush the assailant out was to carry on, to continue to appear in public, and continue to speak to the press. It would help if he knew what he wasn’t supposed to say, but that might not be important anymore. He hadn’t said anything significant so far, yet the attacks continued to escalate.

  There was another reason he wanted his body operating on all cylinders. Madelyn. He might have been buzzed when he kissed her, but he remembered some things very clearly. Like the warm firmness of her lips and the soft, startled intake of her breath; the spicy, exotic fragrance of her skin and the sudden fierce passion of her response when she relaxed her guard. He wanted to kiss her again, and more. And he didn’t want her treating him like an invalid when he did it.

  A knock sounded at ten o’clock sharp. When he unlocked the door, Madelyn stood in the hall wearing a sleeveless cream-colored blouse and brown slacks. It wasn’t colorful, but it was the first time he’d seen her in anything other than black.

  “New outfit?”

  “I did a little shopping yesterday.”

  “I like it. It looks very...cool.”

  She glanced at his luggage. “It is. If you’re ready to go, I’ll take one of those.”

  “I’ll take them. You’ve got enough to handle with your own bags.”

  “You can’t, not with your shoulder. Give me the big one. I’ll hook the strap of my carry-on over the handle and pull them together.”

  He’d learned not to argue with her about small things, but he had to smile when she charged off down the hall dragging two large rolling bags with her carry-on attached to the smaller one and her purse dangling from her shoulder. She was a woman on a mission, and he pitied the fool who got in her way.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The flight to Monterey was uneventful and more comfortable than the last because Herman sprang for an upgrade to First Class. Carter didn’t know if the publicist’s burst of generosity was due to the success of the book or guilt about his injury, but he wasn’t about to argue. Without the pain pills, his shoulder hurt, and the wider seats allowed him to shift position whenever he got too uncomfortable.

  Zoë and Casey had returned to Chicago, and Madelyn’s assistant, Risa, had another armored car waiting for them—no mean feat at a small, regional airport like Monterey. She must have ordered it from San Jose or San Francisco. Madelyn let him ride up front without any grief, so he stretched out and leaned his head against the rest.

  As they headed south toward Highway One and Carmel, he was torn between watching the spectacular scenery on his right or the beautiful woman on his left. Her new clothes and oversized, tortoise shell sunglasses gave her a sophisticated, glamorous air. All she needed was a convertible and a long white scarf to look like an Asian Grace Kelly.

  “It won’t take long to get to Big Sur from here.” She glanced at Herman in the mirror.

  He leaned forward. “Do we have time to take Seventeen Mile Drive through Pebble Beach where they play the golf tournament?”

  “I think so.”

  He settled back against the seat. “That would be great. I’ve seen it on TV, but I’ve never been here. Can we see the course?”

  “We’ll drive past a few holes.”

  Herman’s familiarity with Pebble Beach surprised Carter. He had trouble imagining the diminutive man spending Sunday afternoons stretched out on the sofa watching golf in his socks. It was hard to imagine him at home, period.

  But Herman was a man of boundless enthusiasm for his profession, and a golf course was the perfect place to conduct business. Carter had a sudden vision of him dressed in plaid plus fours and a tam-o’-shanter, plying his powers of persuasion on media moguls at the prestigious country clubs of Westchester County. If he’d felt better, he would have smiled.

  They arrived at the toll gate marking the beginning of the scenic drive and took their place in the stream of sightseers. The line of cars maintained a steady pace as it wound its way through the mansion-studded pine forest to the section of road that hugged the rocky curves of the coastline.

  The overwhelming natural beauty should have been relaxing, but it taunted him, leaving him irritated and restless. He wanted a normal life. He wanted to be alone with Madelyn. Instead, they had a chattering chaperone in the back seat and the constant threat of violence hanging over their heads. On top of that, his shoulder throbbed like a sonofabitch.

  ****

  Madelyn shot a glance at Carter. He slouched against the door, his face pale and drawn. She handed him a bottle of water from the cup holder. “Here. Take a pill. You look like you need it.”

  “I don’t need it.”

  “You need it.”

  “I’ll fall asleep if I take it on an empty stomach, and even in First Class, airline food is airline food.”

  “A nap wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “I’m not going to sleep in the car while you drive me around like a little old man.”

  She couldn’t restrain a smile. “We’ll be in Carmel in ten minutes. There’s a great place I used to go with my parents where we can eat outside. The fresh air will do you good.”

  At the mention of food, Carter straightened in his seat, and the light returned to his eyes. Her smile widened. Men were such simple creatures.

  A few minutes later, she turned off Highway One onto Ocean Avenue and drove the few blocks down the tree-lined street to the center of Carmel. She turned left, circled the block and parked in front of a picturesque thatched-look cottage where gingerbread-loving children and a wicked witch would feel right at home.

  The restaurant was a Carmel icon with a sun-drenched flagstone patio adorned with pots of geraniums, perfect for late lunch or afternoon tea. An additional benefit was the location of the patio to the side of the restaurant instead of behind it. The car would be in full view while they ate.

  She bit her lip when they stepped into the tiny dining room. Carter looked as out of place in the miniature Tudor-style tearoom as a giant in a fairy tale. When the hostess directed them to a table outside, he sprawled on a chair in the sun and closed his eyes.

  As soon as the waitress brought water and took their orders, Madelyn pushed his glass closer. “Take your pill.”

  When he opened his eyes, pain glazed their usual blue sparkle. He withdrew a brown bottle from his jacket pocket, popped a big white pill, and washed it down. Soon the waitress was back with a huge club sandwich for Carter, Welsh rarebit for Herman, and tea and scones for Madelyn. She sipped the sweet, milky tea and kept a close eye on Carter while he ate. Gradually, healthy color returned to his face.

  When he finished his sandwich, he reached for her last scone. “Are you going to eat this?”

  “Help yourself. Feeling better?”

  “Umm-hmm,” he replied with a mouth full of pastry.

  Across the street a big black Mercedes sedan with heavily tinted windows sat parked in front of an art gallery. A similar car had followed them on the drive through Pebble Beach, but many tourists took the scenic drive before stopping in the charming village to eat or shop. It was probably just a coincidence. Unfortunately she couldn’t afford to believe in coincidences.

  They finished eating and strolled to the car. “How far is the resort from here?” Herman asked.

  “Only about half an hour.”
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  They climbed in, and she pulled away from the curb. Two blocks later, she glanced in the side mirror while waiting at a stop sign. The black Mercedes glided into view a couple of cars behind. She swore under her breath.

  “What is it?” Carter twisted to look out the back window.

  “Probably nothing. Just another tourist.” Or foreign dignitary, or Mafia boss, or worse.

  When she turned right onto Highway One, the Mercedes turned left toward Monterey. As the sinister-looking vehicle disappeared in the rearview mirror, the tension drained from her neck and shoulders, leaving a searing ache. She grimaced and wondered if it was too much to hope that her room at the inn would have a whirlpool tub.

  “Sore?” Carter’s eyes scanned her face.

  “A little.”

  He reached toward her.

  “Ah, ah. Watch your shoulder.”

  He eased his left arm down to his side with a soft release of breath. “It reminded me before you did.”

  “You shouldn’t have tried to go without the pain pills.”

  “Yes, Nurse Li.”

  “When we get to the hotel, I’ll take a look at it.”

  “I’m sure the staff can call a doctor,” Herman offered from the back seat.

  “Madelyn can handle it.”

  A warm glow filled her chest. She knew Carter hated doctors, but his statement also carried a note of confidence in her ability to do what needed to be done. She’d worked hard to prove herself. Maybe he was finally ready to give up a little of his autonomy and entrust his safety to her.

  She stole a quick glance at him, and his smile tickled her insides somewhere in the vicinity of her heart. Her fingers tightened on the wheel. What was that? And when had it happened?

  You’ve fallen in love with him, you big dummy.

  The realization hit her like a surprise sucker punch. She’d concentrated so hard on maintaining her professionalism that she’d failed to notice protecting Carter was no longer a job. His well-being had become a fundamental necessity. She’d never felt this way about a client before. In fact, she’d never felt this way about any other human being before.

  The flutter in her stomach mushroomed into a wave of panic. No one could suspect—not Herman, and certainly not Carter. She would have to be careful to keep her feelings hidden until she had time to pick them apart and decide what they meant.

  They were past Carmel now, heading into Big Sur. The highway gripped the side of the steep, sharp hills that rose from the sea. Breakers crashed on the rocks below. An occasional low-slung house hugged the narrow strip of land between ocean and highway. Soon the road was the only sign of man’s intrusion into the pristine coastal wilderness.

  Early October was past the peak of tourist season, and there were long stretches of road without another car in sight. Madelyn glanced at Carter again. His eyes were closed, his head tipped back, and his lips slightly parted. The pain and drugs had taken their toll despite his best efforts to stay alert.

  The Bixby Bridge was coming up around the next curve, and it was only another twenty minutes to the hotel—a good thing because if he slept in that position long, he’d have a pain in his neck to rival his shoulder.

  Just ahead she spotted the soaring arches of one of the most photographed bridges in the world. The road skimmed the top like a gray satin ribbon. She was weighing whether or not to wake Carter when Herman solved the dilemma for her.

  “This is great!” They cruised onto the bridge. “It looks just like the Jaguar commercial.”

  “Mmmm. Hmmmph.” Carter stirred and opened his eyes, squinting against the piercing rays of the late afternoon sun. “Was I...?”

  She nodded. “Out like a light.”

  He reached up with his right hand to work the kinks out of his neck. “Why did you let me fall asleep?”

  “What was I supposed to do, poke you in the side to keep you awake?”

  He grumbled and glanced out the window toward the side mirror. “What the...look out!”

  She jerked the wheel to the left and checked the mirrors for the source of danger. A black Mercedes sedan with dark windows similar to the one she’d seen earlier bore down on them fast from behind. No traffic approached from the opposite direction, so she slowed to let the Mercedes pass. It sped up until less than a foot separated the two bumpers but refused to pass.

  Herman twisted in his seat. “What are they doing?”

  She accelerated, but the Mercedes followed suit. They had almost reached the center of the bridge, nearly three hundred feet in the air with only a flimsy metal guardrail protecting the car from the rocky canyon where the creek met the Pacific.

  A sudden jolt pitched her forward, and the seat belt jerked against her collar bone and chest. Herman shrieked, and Carter swore. Before she could regain her bearings, the Mercedes backed off then rammed them again. Metal screeched and sparks flew as the rental car skidded along the guard rail. Madelyn fought to regain control as she accelerated to try to stay ahead of the powerful black beast.

  Seconds later, the Mercedes pulled alongside. She was losing ground. She had to find a way to escape. Hoping to catch the driver off-guard, she jerked the wheel to the left, slamming the other car. But before she’d recovered from the impact, the Mercedes was beside them again. Cold fear shifted her pulse into overdrive when the doors of the two cars made contact inches from her left shoulder. She braced for another blow, but it didn’t come. Instead, as they sped forward, the Mercedes maintained steady pressure against her door, inching her closer and closer to the rail. Her engine was strong but no match for the Teutonic monster.

  She gripped the wheel, straining to stay on the highway as long as she could, but she was out of options. She couldn’t maintain her position. She couldn’t outrun their attacker. They were going over the side, and she was powerless to prevent it.

  Up ahead, a pickup hauling a big RV lumbered onto the bridge in the opposite lane, headed straight for the Mercedes. She had one chance.

  “Hold on!” Madelyn slammed on the brakes, rubber squealed, and the Mercedes shot past, scraping her door and shearing off the side mirror. The driver swerved violently to avoid the truck and then sped off. Her hands and arms shook, but she maintained her death grip on the wheel.

  “Pull over,” Carter said.

  When had she stepped on the gas again?

  “I can’t. There’s no room.” Her words were rushed and unsteady.

  “Then at least slow down. It would be worse than ironic if we crashed now.”

  He was right. They were safe. The danger had passed.

  She drew a slow, deep breath, let it out, and eased her foot off the gas pedal. “We’ll be there soon. Call 911. They can alert the highway patrol.”

  “There’s no way they’ll catch that guy. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of nowhere. I bet there’s not a patrol car for miles.”

  “This is the only highway between Monterey and San Luis Obispo, and there are very few side roads. If the sheriff’s office calls ahead, someone might be able to catch him from the south.”

  “Right.” Carter pulled out his phone and made the call. When he finished, he slid the phone back into his jacket. “They’ll have an officer meet us at the inn.”

  “Who was that?” Herman’s voice quivered. “They tried to kill us.”

  “It certainly seemed that way.” Madelyn’s rising anger steadied her nerves. “But they failed.”

  “I’ve heard California drivers are famous for road rage, but you didn’t do anything,” Herman protested.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Do you think the police will catch the driver?”

  “I hope so.” And she did, with every fiber of her being. With a little luck, the terrifying incident might turn out to be a blessing in disguise. If the police caught the driver, they might be able to find who was behind the attacks and put a stop to them. She didn’t believe for a second this was a random act of road rage.

  “The ca
r is ruined,” Herman moaned.

  “Don’t worry. Phoenix, Ltd. is fully insured. My assistant can have a new car delivered by tomorrow.”

  “I don’t understand why these things keep happening. This tour seems to be cursed.”

  No kidding. Her grip on the wheel tightened.

  “It’s a good thing the book is selling so well.” Herman’s tone veered toward chipper again. “It makes all these problems worth the effort.”

  She bit her lip to keep from snapping at him. Adrenaline still pounded through her veins, but Herman had already bounced back enough to regain his single-minded focus.

  Carter pointed to a sign. “Here’s the turn for the inn.”

  She followed the sign to a rapidly ascending drive that led to a rambling complex of single-story redwood buildings scattered around a meadow carved from the forested hillside. In the distance lay the same peaceful swath of blue that had appeared so menacing only minutes before. An odd sense of detachment drifted over her. The idyllic setting had begun to cast the incident on the bridge in a surreal light.

  She found the reception desk, and before they had finished checking in, a Monterey County Sheriff’s Deputy strode into the lobby and up to the desk.

  “I’m looking for Mr. Devlin.”

  “Here.”

  “You reported an incident on the Bixby Bridge.”

  “They nearly ran us into the ocean,” Herman exclaimed.

  “Were you driving, sir?”

  Madelyn stepped forward. “I was driving, officer.”

  The deputy pulled a small notepad and the stub of a pencil from his shirt pocket. “Can you give me a description of the vehicle?”

  “It was a big black Mercedes with tinted windows.” Herman’s words tumbled over each other in excitement.

  The deputy turned. “Sir, I’ll get to you in a minute.”

  Herman nodded and stared at the floor, apparently chastened, while Madelyn gave her statement. Next the deputy spoke to Carter. By the time he got to Herman, there was little to add. He had just tucked the notebook away when the radio at his belt squawked. He answered, listened, and replied in clipped official tones.