Page 6 of Swan River

“Wh-what happened?” Nikki asked.

He looked at her with dark eyes that seemed to see through her and made a chill run up her spine. “You. You happened.”

Nikki’s mouth dropped open as fear curled through her.

“What are you talking about?”

The last time she’d met him, she’d thought he had a nice smile, which only added to his Indiana Jones appeal that she was sure made him popular with his students. Now, his glare made him look unhinged.

“They must know I’m close to the truth. They want what I found in L.A.”

“Who’s they?” Nikki asked, stomach clenching as the obvious truth finally hit her. His office had been ransacked by someone searching for something.

The office door crashed open, and Nikki jumped as another man burst into the room. He looked like the professor in many ways, but taller, lankier, rougher. As if he was accustomed to getting into bar fights. He even had a scar on his jaw that proved her thoughts. Dark, beady eyes took in the entire room before he stalked further into it and righted a chair that had been knocked over.

“What the hell?” the new man demanded.

“I must have tipped them off when I asked for the report on the shooting at the gas station,” he told the other man, almost forgetting Nikki was there.

Her heart stopped and started. Was he talking about the gas station where her dad was killed? A wave of pain flew through her. It had been years since she’d lost him, but it sliced through her almost as if she was hearing about it for the first time.

The pounding in her head quadrupled.

“I told you, we needed to drop this entire stupid notion,” the man with the scar growled. “Nothing good will come of it now. Nothing but death and destruction.”

“I’m sorry. This was a mistake,” Nikki said quietly, easing her way back toward the door and opening it.

The professor moved so fast it surprised her, slamming the door shut and grabbing her arm. At first, she recoiled, wishing she hadn’t left her bodyguard, but then her training came back and with a swift movement, she’d batted his arm away and prepared for retaliation.

He jerked his hand back to his chest, pushing his glasses up and stepping away. “I’m sorry. It’s just… It’s important. Please. I have proof. I can show it to you.”

She looked around the destroyed office.

“What proof?” the other man asked, face scrunching into a scowl.

“It’s not here. I wouldn’t be stupid enough to just leave it laying around,” the professor insisted, and the other man’s eyes squinted at the desperation in Maynard’s voice.

Every alarm bell in Nikki’s body was telling her to get the hell out of there.

“I…I think it’s best if we just drop this,” she said quietly, hand slowly moving toward the doorknob again.

“Please,” the professor begged again. “Give me one more chance. We’re so close to the truth. Closer than anyone has been in decades. My brother and I…we need this.”

The two men exchanged a strange look that only increased the turmoil inside her. Nikki wanted to tell him to go to hell. She wanted to leave and never think about any of this again. But the little things Professor Maynard had told her about her family had all rung true in a way that seemed both impossible and probable at the same time.

If she had him come to the farmhouse tonight, there would be a host of bodyguards and her friends around. She’d be safe. She’d have to tell the band something or just let them assume she had thing for the attractive college professor.

“Tonight. At the farmhouse with everyone there. Any time after seven,” she said before stepping through the door. “But only you, Professor. If you both show up, I won’t be able to explain it.”

“Thank you! You won’t regret it,” Professor Maynard called after her, relief coasting over his face, but his brother looked wary and thoughtful.

Nikki already regretted it. Regretted ever letting him close. Her stomach was in turmoil, and her head was now throbbing mercilessly, causing white lights to flicker through her vision. She needed to climb into bed, shut all the blinds, and sleep until it disappeared, and that was exactly what she was going to do.

She slipped out the door before either of the men could stop her again, found her way to her bodyguard, back through the college, and out to one of the SUVs that were waiting for the band outside the studio all the while doubts, fear, and pain trailed her.

As she went to get in the vehicle, her skin prickled, and she glanced up to see a man leaning up against the white pillar of the bakery across the street. His arms were crossed, showcasing forearms that were huge and bulging like the rest of him—black hair, hooded eyes, muscles, and tattoos that screamed of some ancient-Egyptian, godlike lineage. He was beautiful. She’d seen him that morning as well when they’d arrived at the studio. It should have frightened her. It should have been something she mentioned to the others, especially with the creepy notes arriving daily, but she hadn’t. There was something almost mythical about him, as if she’d blink and he’d disappear.

As they started to drive away, she turned back and the man was gone, just like she’d expected. A mirage. A figment of her imagination.

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