That Was Yesterday

  Dedication

  To Natasha Kern, agent and friend, support system and frank, knowledgeable critic. Finally, it came together.

  Chapter One

  If the moon hadn’t been full, Mara Curtis might have stayed in her beloved home at the edge of the desert. But the warm Southern California night called. She was out of ice cream; that was enough reason for her to go for a drive. After giving her Doberman, Lobo, fresh water, she slid behind the wheel of her Corvette, rolled down the window to let in the breeze and brought the powerful vehicle to life. San Diego lay ahead.

  The Corvette responded, sharing its energy with her. Mara inserted an easy-rock tape and cranked up the sound. Salt-tinged air teased her senses and danced over her bare arms, making her feel like a sixteen-year-old with a brand-new driver’s license. How could anyone not love life!

  Thirty minutes later, mindful of her gas bill, she pulled into a nearly empty supermarket parking lot. After wandering up and down the frozen-food aisle twice before selecting double chocolate with nuts, Mara walked back outside. As she passed from the supermarket’s neon light into the shadows that separated her from her car, she sent out a silent message to her family. She hoped they could take a minute from the pace of hitting five races in a little over a week to simply smell the air too, to acknowledge the moon.

  Someone, a man, was collecting abandoned shopping carts. Mara tucked her purchase in the crook of her arm and stabbed at her back pocket for her car keys.

  The man lunged. Mara sensed the movement, but even her quick reflexes were no defense against the suddenness of the attack. Before she could do anything except draw a half breath, his arm cinched around her neck, hauling her tight against him. She felt sharp metal against her cheek.

  “Not a sound, lady. Got me? Not a sound.”

  Mara finished inhaling, a natural movement, a pocket of sanity in a suddenly insane world. He had a knife. He was powerful. Her ice cream lay at her feet. Those things she could concentrate on.

  “Good. Nice and quiet. You want to live, don’t you?”

  What? Mara waited, her mind and muscles leached of every strength they’d ever known. She couldn’t remember how to make another breath come on the tail of the last one.

  “I asked you something. You wanna live, don’t you?”

  They were alone; there wasn’t another soul in the parking lot. “Y-yes.”

  “Yeah. Yeah. That’s right, sweetheart. Nice car you’ve got there. I’ve been watching it for you. Keeping it safe.” The man laughed. “You and me, we’re going for a ride.”

  No!

  He had to push her to get her started toward the Corvette. Off balance, Mara stumbled, taking a breath in the process. The night air felt hot in her lungs. The man’s belt buckle poked her. A scream clawed at her throat. This wasn’t happening. Not on a July night in sprawling San Diego. Any moment now the theater lights would go on and the movie would be over.

  “You drive.”

  That Mara could do. In her sleep. Or she could have if the man didn’t still have his arm locked against her throat, forcing her to grip his knotted forearm to keep herself from falling. The knife—she could see its hazy outline—was huge…something Daniel Boone would use to battle a bear.

  “Where’s your keys?”

  Keys? Why wasn’t her brain working? “In my pocket,” she muttered after what seemed like a lifetime.

  “Then get them out.” The arm around her neck tightened. Somehow Mara managed to obey. The key almost slipped from her numb fingers. For an instant white-hot fury exploded through her, but she killed the useless emotion.

  “Sweet car you got there, lady. Your boyfriend give it to you?”

  Before Mara could decide whether the man expected an answer, he’d opened the passenger door, shoved her in and followed so close there wasn’t a half second in which to plan an escape. Mara dumped her lean frame in her bucket seat, pulling her legs over the gearshift on the floor. She stared ahead, hands on the wheel. The wheel represented strength and untapped power. Next to her the man laughed.

  “I watched you.” His voice sounded as if he’d been abusing his lungs with cigarettes for years. “Watched you drive in here. This is one sweet car. I figured only a fox would be driving it. I was right.”

  “What—what do you want?”

  “To go for a ride.” The man drew the knife slowly from Mara’s ear down to her elbow and then up again. He stopped with the tip poking against her sleeveless T-shirt. “For starters.”

  If only she could stop shaking. If only she could think.

  “You know how to drive. Do it.”

  The Corvette’s masterful hum soothed her. This was right; she belonged behind the wheel of a car. With its power at her fingertips, she could make a stab at thinking. Mara pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. Because the man hadn’t said where he wanted to go, and she wasn’t going to speak to him any more than she had to, she headed west. Aimlessly.

  The man amused himself by running the knife tip from her elbow to her shoulder and back again. Tickling. An agony of sensation. An invitation to madness. As each stroke was completed, Mara prayed. This time he would stop. This time he wouldn’t begin the terrifying upward swipe again. But he always did. And Mara jumped each time the knife touched her flesh.

  She felt fear. And hate. A hate she could taste.

  What did he look like? She would get away. When he was done with her, she would run to the police and tell them— Mara started to turn toward him. Before the gesture was finished, he slammed his fist into the side of her jaw. “No you don’t, lady. I’m the one who’ll do the looking.”

  The lesson stuck. Mara would stare out at the night. And she wouldn’t let him know he’d made her bite her tongue.

  “Hot these days, isn’t it. Makes a person want to go without clothes.” The knife dipped lower. Touched Mara’s thigh. Made her jump despite the layer of denim. “I bet a lady like you…I bet you sleep in the raw.”

  Mara didn’t have to look at the man to know he was staring at her breasts. She clenched her teeth until her jaw ached, despising him. If they were in traffic she could run a red light, maybe catch the attention of a policeman. But they had the quiet residential streets to themselves. No matter what she made the car do, only she would know. She and this animal.

  “Where do you live?”

  Mara hauled her mind back to the man sitting next to her. “What?”

  “I said, where do you live? You got a roommate?”

  Think. Damn it, think! “A husband. My husband’s waiting for me.”

  “Liar. You aren’t married.”

  With the knife against her thigh, Mara could do nothing except keep her eyes on where she was going. That and plan how she was going to stay alive. “Yes I am.”

  “No, you aren’t. No man would let his woman drive around like this at night. You’re cruising, lady. Married broads don’t cruise.”

  “I went after ice cream.” Why was she saying anything?

  “But you got me instead.” The man laughed. “Yeah, this is some fine car. Who bought it? Your sugar daddy?”

  Mara clenched her jaws. “No.”

  “Who then? Maybe your pimp. Is that it?” The knife was no longer poking into Mara’s thigh. He began inching it upward, this time running the weapon along her rib cage, over her right breast. Mara’s vision dimmed and a scream threatened to escape. But the last time she’d screamed was five years ago; she wouldn’t start again tonight.

  “Nah,” the man amended. “Woman who looks like you. She doesn’t spend her days sleeping ’cause she worked all night. You know what you look like?” The knife made another circle. “A lifeguard. That’s it. They sure as hell must pay lifeguards more than I thought they did
.”

  Mara dismissed the words. If she wanted to get out of this alive, she would have to act.

  Soon.

  “Tell you what.” Another circle with the knife. “A little later, you’re going to open up this baby and show me what it can do. But now—” The man laughed; Mara smelled stale cigarette smoke. “Now it’s time for us to get to know each other.”

  He’s going to rape me. Just like that.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  Lights. Lights from approaching cars. She could swerve into one of them. They weren’t going that fast; no one would be killed. She would sacrifice the Corvette. If the knife was wrenched from the man, if she braced herself and he slammed against the dash, she would be free.

  No. She couldn’t risk anyone’s life. A telephone pole? Maybe a tree. Why couldn’t she think?

  “I asked you a question. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “What?”

  “What are you? Stupid? If you want to get through this alive, you’re going to give me the answer I want.” The knife tip was at the base of her throat putting an end to thoughts of swerving. Any move he didn’t expect and he would plunge the knife into her. “I said—you’d like crawling between the sheets with me, wouldn’t you?”

  No!

  He was applying pressure. “Wouldn’t you?”

  “Y-yes.” Revulsion turned her sweat to ice. This wasn’t her. She would never agree to anything like that, but she wanted to go on living. “Yes.”

  “That’s what I thought.” He backed off on the pressure. Not enough to allow Mara any sense of freedom, but enough that she could believe she hadn’t, yet, come to the end of her life. “There’s a place. Yeah. There’s a place.”

  As the man gave directions, Mara fought down the bile that rose on the tail of the words she’d been forced to say. He ordered her to drive out of the city and head toward Sunset Cliffs. It would be desolate out there.

  Silent.

  Mara’s thoughts raced in one direction and then another, bashing against dead ends. She could reach out, grab the door handle, leap out despite the speed—and splatter her body against the unyielding pavement. She could wait until they came to another stop and then, before he could prevent her, bolt into the night. No. At every intersection he pressed the knife into her ribs.

  “You’re going to like this,” he was saying. “I know how to make things right for a woman. You tell me what you like. I’ll—”

  Mara shut down; she wasn’t going to listen. She could, if she had no choice, pretend to go along with him. He might grow careless. He might put down his weapon. If she could reach it, she would use it.

  “I’m talking to you.” The knife broke through the thin layer of nylon and nicked the skin over Mara’s rib cage.

  “I—I didn’t hear you.”

  “Damn you! I’m offering you the best night of your life, but you don’t even know it.”

  “Why? What have I—”

  “What have you done? Right place at the right time, lady. Plus, you turn me on, and I turn you on. I want to hear you say it.”

  “You want what?”

  The knife found its previous home at the base of Mara’s throat. “I want you to say I turn you on. Say it.”

  Not again! She couldn’t say those things again!

  “I won’t ask again,” he rasped.

  There was pressure. Pressure and pain and blood trickling downward. It was a nick, just enough to let her know he wasn’t going to accept silence. “You—” No. She couldn’t jerk away. If she did, she might lose control of the car and they were going too fast for that now. “You turn me on.”

  “And tonight’s going to be the best night of your life.”

  With the knife tip against her flesh, Mara managed the hated words. “Tonight’s going to be the best night of my life.”

  The man laughed as the Corvette cut through the night. He continued to talk, now about other women he’d done this to. How they all had loved it. How Mara was going to have a night to remember. How the only way for her to come out of it alive was to make him happy.

  Mara understood one thing—unless she found a way to gain control, tonight she was going to be raped and perhaps murdered. Strangely she was grateful now that the rules were clear-cut. It was her against this man who clung to the shadows. Only her. Only him.

  “There. Pull over there.”

  Mara jumped. Barren rocks surrounded the deserted road. How had they gotten away from civilization so quickly? But maybe she’d been driving for hours. Mara did as she was told and waited for the half second that was all she wanted out of life.

  “Party time.” The man reached out, gripped Mara’s jaw and pulled her head around. His hands felt like neglected leather; his features were cloaked in shadows. “You want to party, don’t you?”

  Mara knew what he wanted to hear; she couldn’t give it to him.

  The hand holding her jaw turned into a weapon, fast and decisive. When he hit her, Mara again bit her tongue. Her cheek flamed and went numb. “This is party time, bitch. I do what I want, when I want.” He held the knife in front of her, bringing it first within a whisper of her face and then lower. Mara thought he was going to touch her throat or breast again. Instead he slipped hot steel under the shirt at the shoulder and pulled upward, slicing the fabric in two. “Party time.”

  He was leaning away, reaching for the door handle, holding the knife in the air. Laughing. Mara stared into the night. Thinking. Death now or when he was done with her. Everything boiled down to that.

  The hell it did! The moment she heard his door open, Mara gathered herself, wrenched her own door handle, and rammed her body against the barrier.

  She landed on her shoulder and arm on the ground but sprang to her feet before the pain registered. She ran into the night, embracing it, needing it as she’d never needed anything in life. He was only a few steps behind, his voice ragged and hard as he screamed obscenities. She could sense him clawing his way after her, feel the horror he represented. If she stumbled— No! She wouldn’t fall, not if she wanted to live.

  Thirty seconds passed, then a minute as Mara ran. Her heart pounded; her breath came in terrified gasps. She couldn’t see where she was going, but that didn’t matter. Nothing did except pitting her long legs against that animal’s rage. Was he gaining? Was the noise she was making blocking out what she needed to know? After another minute, Mara ordered herself to hold her breath, to simply listen.

  For the first time she heard the ocean, only the ocean.

  Chapter Two

  Reed Steward sat in the Harbor Island Police Department. According to what he’d been told, the Harbor Island department was tightly run. Much of that reputation was due to the tenacity of the man sitting across from him.

  Captain Bistron hung up the phone for the second time since Reed walked in. “It’s crazy, I tell you. I don’t care what anyone says. The moon brings them out of the woodwork.”

  Reed smiled, at least as much of a smile as was in him. Inside he was knotted with concern, but he knew better than to let it show. Tonight was for collecting facts. Tomorrow was for action, for putting out for the man who’d done so much for him. Reed shifted position, accepting that his 198 pounds and six-feet-one-inch frame didn’t comfortably fit into molded plastic chairs. “You’re sure it’s organized crime?”

  “You aren’t?”

  “Right now I’m leaving every option open.”

  “Hmm. What happened to Jack Weston last week, is this a first for you people?”

  “It’s the first time we’ve had an attempted murder.” Reed ground out the words. The National Automotive Theft Bureau which paid Reed’s salary had given the San Diego police his file. What the captain didn’t know was that because it was Jack who was trapped in a hospital, this wasn’t just another assignment for him. His best friend—his only true friend—had almost been killed.

  “Attempted murder. Yeah. We can’t call it anything else, can we
? Will you tell me why a Lotus Turbo is worth a man’s life?”

  Reed shook his head, his stomach knotted. “What we’re up against is more than just stealing a car. The Lotus was hauled out of a locked garage. And unloading one of those takes specialized contacts. That means organization and ruthlessness.”

  “Bingo. Like I said, we’re not talking kids on a lark here.” Captain Bistron ignored the buzzing intercom. “Look. About what happened. I’m sorry. Weston’s car being rammed—”

  “Jack was hurt because something went wrong.”

  “And you want to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  Reed leaned forward, his entire being focused on this moment. He needed the captain to understand that this was something he couldn’t and wouldn’t walk away from. “Jack and I go back a long way. That stubborn old man took an angry, confused kid and pointed him in the right direction. I owe him more than I’ll ever be able to repay.”

  “But finding out who tried to kill him and putting that person or persons out of business is one way of evening the score. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”

  Reed nodded, then glanced out at what he could see of the police station beyond the glass walls. The booking sergeant was talking to a bail bondsman. Next to him a policewoman hung on to a phone. Two policemen were hunched over forms. Five or six citizens waited their turn to talk. To an outsider, the scene would probably be both fascinating and foreign. To Reed, it represented nothing more than a starting point for his own agenda.

  “Don’t let dedication get in the way of good sense,” the captain said. “I need you doing your job, not in the hospital next to your friend.”

  “I won’t. I’ve been at this business long enough to know better,” Reed said as a young man and a disheveled woman entered the station. “What can you give me?”

  “Not much, I’m afraid,” Captain Bistron said, following the unmatched couple’s progress. “Mostly opinions and a handful of facts you might already know.”

  The words registered on an unconscious level but the newcomers commanding the captain’s attention held Reed’s interest as well. The woman was struggling to hold her sleeveless top together. The teenager near her looked as if he wanted desperately to walk back out the way he’d come.