Page 1 of Nowhere to Hide

CHAPTER 1

CILLA

Edison lights crisscrossedabove the patio and warred with the dusky pink of the sky. I tapped my finger to the beat of the music that pumped from hidden speakers. The song was ethereal and uncomplicated—perfect for cocktails and meandering conversation.

Not that I was there for talking.

Being alone in a crowd was the goal.

The longest day of the year was coming to a close with a lick of fire glinting around buildings in the distance. I sipped from the drink that matched the sky. The bartender called it Solstice, as if he’d known it would match the skyline tonight.

Solstice always seemed to be a harbinger of change in my life. Summer was officially here and the heat of it had baked into the stone floor of the rooftop bar. The barest hint of a breeze kissed my shoulders, reminding me I’d been remiss with the sunblock today.

I’d been too preoccupied with walking the coastline. It was rocky and rough in the way only New England could claim.Salem, Massachusetts was a strange mix of old world and new. The water was just as treacherous as the history of the witches that continued to lure people in year after year. Storiesof a past collective hysteria ending in ghostly markers in the haunting cemeteries that framed the town. I’d visited the witch tree and felt a power I’d never known humming from the gnarled branches trapped behind chains.

Perhaps some distant tether to my shared blood with the Bishop line. Or maybe because I was a woman who knew how easy it was to have people turn on me like so many of those souls lost long ago.

While the cemetery pulled at me, and capitalistic tourism amused me, it was the serene wharf below that held me in its thrall. Oh, to jump on a boat and disappear into the horizon and leave life behind even if it was only for a few hours.

The music changed over to a delicate voice allowing the slapping water below to wash over me.

Salem had been an impulsive trip. I was a planner at heart, but after what happened in New York, I’d simply started driving. Originally, I’d thought to head north from my apartment in Albany.

Lake George or the Adirondacks usually soothed me when I needed a bit of water therapy.

But I’d found myself heading out of state. The smooth ride changed over to snarling traffic of the Ted Williams Tunnel until I finally landed in Salem. I’d always been drawn to the mysterious city. Instead of staying there, I usually added on time for a daytrip when I traveled for Hartman & Hayes Industries.

Now that work didn’t control every hour of my day, I needed to figure out what the hell I was doing with myself. Evidently that included a bit of self-indulgence with Salem.

I smoothed my hand down my hip. At least I could finally use my stunning wardrobe for something other than a work dinner.

I finished my drink, setting the glass on one of the tables dotted around the edges of the rooftop. I threaded my way through the crush of people as the music switched back tothedriving beat edged with the undeniable pulse of sex to entice people back onto the dance floor. Full dark slithered across the skyline, inviting the sweaty lure of uncomplicated sex.

A few grabbing hands tried to stop me on the way, but I wasn’t interested in being touched tonight. My wounds were too fresh, and enough tequila swam in my veins making the music invasive instead of alluring. I pushed through the door to the staircase that led to the hotel. I needed to walk. The lure of the water drove me down the stairs and out to the cobblestone street. My heels clicked on the uneven street, but I had one focus—the water.

The thumping bass faded, and the slap of water along the pier lured me closer.

Boats in varying sizes were docked. I didn’t know much about them, but I did appreciate the sleek lines and the easy access to escape.

What would it feel like to push the engine until there was no land in my rearview, just open water as far as the eye could see?

I ran my fingers down the slope of a dry-docked ship. Its sleek lines were undeniable even in the dim light from my hotel. It was so lovely and quiet untangling the chaos in my mind. Losing my job and my fiancé on the same day was bad enough, but finding out my best friend was the catalyst was an extra layer of betrayal.

I drew in a deep breath of the sea with an underlying sharpness of gas and vinegar. Dry-docked boats were in varying phases of service or storage.Water lapped at the sturdy piles of the dock and chopped under the planks. I didn’t realize how deep I’d gone into the darkened slips until the sound of footsteps behind me dented my hazy focus.

Stupid, Cilla.

I’d wandered too far away.

My hotel was only a few hundred yards away from the wharf. It wasn’t like I was in the middle of nowhere.

The steps increased behind me, but I’d lived in cities long enough to know not to turn around. I tucked my hand into my bag, cursing the fact that I’d changed over to the smaller clutch to match my barely-ever-worn dress. I didn’t have anything inside other than the little canister of Mace I kept on my keychain and a lip gloss.

Helpful, obviously.

Was it someone from the hotel?

Someone watching for an idiot female to break off from the pack or the relative safety of the hotel?