Untouchable Read online

  Titles by Jayne Ann Krentz

  UNTOUCHABLE

  PROMISE NOT TO TELL

  WHEN ALL THE GIRLS HAVE GONE

  SECRET SISTERS

  TRUST NO ONE

  RIVER ROAD

  DREAM EYES

  COPPER BEACH

  IN TOO DEEP

  FIRED UP

  RUNNING HOT

  SIZZLE AND BURN

  WHITE LIES

  ALL NIGHT LONG

  FALLING AWAKE

  TRUTH OR DARE

  LIGHT IN SHADOW

  SUMMER IN ECLIPSE BAY

  TOGETHER IN ECLIPSE BAY

  SMOKE IN MIRRORS

  LOST & FOUND

  DAWN IN ECLIPSE BAY

  SOFT FOCUS

  ECLIPSE BAY

  EYE OF THE BEHOLDER

  FLASH

  SHARP EDGES

  DEEP WATERS

  ABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY

  TRUST ME

  GRAND PASSION

  HIDDEN TALENTS

  WILDEST HEARTS

  FAMILY MAN

  PERFECT PARTNERS

  SWEET FORTUNE

  SILVER LININGS

  THE GOLDEN CHANCE

  Titles by Jayne Ann Krentz writing as Amanda Quick

  THE OTHER LADY VANISHES

  THE GIRL WHO KNEW TOO MUCH

  ’TIL DEATH DO US PART

  GARDEN OF LIES

  OTHERWISE ENGAGED

  THE MYSTERY WOMAN

  CRYSTAL GARDENS

  QUICKSILVER

  BURNING LAMP

  THE PERFECT POISON

  THE THIRD CIRCLE

  THE RIVER KNOWS

  SECOND SIGHT

  LIE BY MOONLIGHT

  THE PAID COMPANION

  WAIT UNTIL MIDNIGHT

  LATE FOR THE WEDDING

  DON’T LOOK BACK

  SLIGHTLY SHADY

  WICKED WIDOW

  I THEE WED

  WITH THIS RING

  AFFAIR

  MISCHIEF

  MYSTIQUE

  MISTRESS

  DECEPTION

  DESIRE

  DANGEROUS

  RECKLESS

  RAVISHED

  RENDEZVOUS

  SCANDAL

  SURRENDER

  SEDUCTION

  Titles by Jayne Ann Krentz writing as Jayne Castle

  ILLUSION TOWN

  SIREN’S CALL

  THE HOT ZONE

  DECEPTION COVE

  THE LOST NIGHT

  CANYONS OF NIGHT

  MIDNIGHT CRYSTAL

  OBSIDIAN PREY

  DARK LIGHT

  SILVER MASTER

  GHOST HUNTER

  AFTER GLOW

  HARMONY

  AFTER DARK

  AMARYLLIS

  ZINNIA

  ORCHID

  The Guinevere Jones Series

  DESPERATE AND DECEPTIVE

  The Guinevere Jones Collection, Volume 1

  THE DESPERATE GAME

  THE CHILLING DECEPTION

  SINISTER AND FATAL

  The Guinevere Jones Collection, Volume 2

  THE SINISTER TOUCH

  THE FATAL FORTUNE

  Specials

  THE SCARGILL COVE CASE FILES

  BRIDAL JITTERS

  (writing as Jayne Castle)

  Anthologies

  CHARMED

  (with Julie Beard, Lori Foster, and Eileen Wilks)

  Titles written by Jayne Ann Krentz and Jayne Castle

  NO GOING BACK

  BERKLEY

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  1745 Broadway, New York, New York 10019

  Copyright © 2019 by Jayne Ann Krentz

  Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.

  BERKLEY and the BERKLEY & B colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Krentz, Jayne Ann, author.

  Title: Untouchable / Jayne Ann Krentz.

  Description: First Edition. | New York : Berkley, 2019.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2018029359| ISBN 9780399585296 (hardback) | ISBN 9780399585302 (ebook)

  Subjects: | BISAC: FICTION / Romance / Suspense. | FICTION / Suspense. | FICTION / Romance / General. | GSAFD: Romantic suspense fiction.

  Classification: LCC PS3561.R44 U58 2019 | DDC 813/.54—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018029359

  First Edition: January 2019

  Cover photo by Karina Vegas/Arcangel

  Cover design by Rita Frangie

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Version_1

  Contents

  Titles by Jayne Ann Krentz

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NI
NE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  About the Author

  For Frank, with all my love

  CHAPTER ONE

  Fifteen years earlier . . .

  She was fourteen years old and sleeping in yet another bed. The little house on Marigold Lane looked cozy and welcoming from the street—lots of curb appeal, as the real estate agents liked to say—but she had decided that she would not be there for long.

  Every few weeks when she got tired of life on the streets she checked into the foster care system long enough to take some hot showers and score some new tennis shoes or a new pair of jeans or a new backpack. She had figured out early on that a backpack was essential to survival on the streets. The one she had picked up last month had a large rip in it, thanks to the junkie with the knife who had tried to steal it. The junkie was no longer a problem but the wounded pack had to be replaced.

  She rarely stayed in a foster home for more than a few days. Sooner or later, there were issues. This time the problem would be the husband. His name was Tyler. She had privately labeled him Tyler the Creep.

  She had seen the way he looked at her two days ago when she arrived with her ripped backpack containing all her worldly possessions: a few clothes, a hairbrush and a toothbrush, and the battered copies of Winnie-the-Pooh and The House at Pooh Corner.

  Initially she had not been concerned; merely inconvenienced. She could handle Tyler the Creep but it meant that she could not go to sleep at night. Creeps like Tyler had a lot in common with roaches—they came out after dark.

  The situation, however, had gotten a lot more complicated that afternoon when the social worker had arrived on the doorstep with another foster kid. The girl’s name was Alice. All she had with her was a small rolling suitcase. She was eleven years old and she had been orphaned when her father’s private plane had crashed on takeoff. Alice’s mother had been a passenger. Both parents had been killed. Alice had been in school at the time.

  Dazed and traumatized, she had said very little except her name and that her aunts would come for her.

  Later, when she and Winter were alone in the bedroom, she had repeated the same thing over and over.

  “My mom and dad told me that if anything ever happened to them, I should call my aunts. They will come and get me.”

  During her short stays in various foster homes over the course of the past year, Winter had heard similar claims. Mostly the tales turned out to be sparkly little lies told by well-meaning parents who had wanted to reassure their children that some adult family member would always be there for them; that they were not alone in the world. That they had family to protect them.

  But after several months of floating in and out of the system, she knew the truth. There were no aunts, or, if they did exist, they weren’t going to magically appear to rescue Alice. Sure, there might be a few distant relatives somewhere but there would be a thousand excuses why they couldn’t take a kid into their household. We’re too old. We barely knew that side of the family. Our lifestyle won’t allow us to take the child. We travel too much. We can’t afford to take her. We have other children who would be upset. The child has severe emotional problems that we’re just not equipped to handle . . .

  Winter sat on the top bunk, legs dangling over the edge. The new backpack was on the bed beside her. She wore the jeans and the hoodie that she’d had on during the day. She always slept in her clothes. It made for more efficient departures.

  She had a penlight in one hand. In her other hand she gripped her copy of Winnie-the-Pooh. Earlier she had read some of the stories to Alice. Alice had said that she was too old for Winnie-the-Pooh, but the gentle stories had soothed her. She had eventually fallen into an exhausted sleep.

  A few hours ago the new foster mom had been called away to deal with a family crisis involving one of her own aging parents. Tyler the Creep was now in the front room, drinking and watching television.

  Winter had taken the precaution of locking the bedroom door but she had known that wouldn’t do any good. The creep had the key.

  It was another half hour before she heard the doorknob rattle. When Tyler the Creep discovered that the door was locked, he left. For a moment she entertained the faint hope that he would not return. But of course he did.

  She heard the key in the lock. The door opened. The creep was silhouetted against the light of the hallway fixture, a balding, big-bellied man dressed in an undershirt and trousers.

  He did not see her sitting there in the shadows of the upper bunk. He moved into the room, heading toward the lower bunk.

  He reached down and started to pull the covers off Alice’s thin, huddled body.

  “Go away, Mr. Tyler,” Winter said. She switched on the penlight and began to move it in an intricate pattern. “You’re not supposed to be here. You don’t want to be here.”

  She kept her voice calm; soothing but firm.

  Startled, Tyler halted and instinctively averted his gaze from the narrow beam of light.

  “What the hell?” In the next breath he softened his voice to a drunken croon. “What’s the matter, honey? Couldn’t sleep? I know it’s hard adjusting to a new house and a new family. But you’re in a good home now. There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll take care of you and Alice.”

  “Go away, Mr. Tyler,” Winter said again. She kept the penlight moving, faster now.

  Tyler was distracted by the light. He stared at it; looked away and then gazed at it again.

  “I’m going to take poor little Alice to my bedroom,” he said. “She’s afraid to be alone.”

  “Alice is not alone,” Winter said. “I’m here with her. Go away. You don’t want to be in this room. It’s hard to breathe when you come in here. You can’t catch your breath. Your heart is pounding harder and harder. You wonder if you’re having a heart attack.”

  Tyler did not respond. He was transfixed by the motion of the light. He started to wheeze.

  “When I say Winnie-the-Pooh, you will realize that you can’t breathe at all when you’re in this room,” Winter said. “You will leave. That is the only way to ease the terrible pain in your chest. If you stay in this room you will have a heart attack. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” Tyler’s voice was now that of a man in a trance, expressionless.

  The rasping and wheezing got louder.

  “Winnie-the-Pooh,” Winter said in a tone of soft command.

  Tyler came out of the trance gasping for air.

  “Can’t breathe,” he said, his voice hoarse with panic. He swung around and lurched out into the hallway. “My heart. Can’t breathe.”

  He staggered down the hallway and stumbled toward the kitchen. Winter jumped down to the floor.

  “Winter?” Alice whispered from the shadows of the lower bunk.

  “It’s okay,” Winter said. “But you have to get up and get dressed. We’re going to leave now.”

  A heavy thud sounded from the kitchen. It was followed by an unnatural silence.

  “What happened?” Alice asked.

  “Stay here,” Winter said. “I’ll go take a look.”

  She went to the door. With the penlight in hand she moved cautiously down the hall. Alice climbed out of bed but she did not wait in the bedroom. She followed Winter.

  Tyler was sprawled on the kitchen floor. He did not move. His phone was on the floor close to his hand. Panic arced through Winter. She wondered if she had killed the creep.

  Alice came up beside her and took her hand, clinging very tightly. She looked at Tyler’s motionless body.

  “Is he dead?” she asked.

  “I do
n’t know,” Winter said. “I’ll check.”

  She released Alice’s hand and crossed the kitchen floor. She stopped a short distance away from Tyler and tried to think about what to do next. In the movies and on television people checked the throat of an unconscious person to find out if there was a pulse.

  Gingerly she reached down and put two fingers on Tyler’s neck. She thought she detected a faint beat but she couldn’t be certain. He might not be dead yet but it was possible that he was dying. It was also possible that he was simply unconscious and would recover at any moment. Winter knew that neither outcome would be good for Alice or herself.

  “Get dressed,” Winter said. “Put everything you brought with you back into your suitcase. I don’t know how much time we have.”

  Alice regarded her with big, frightened eyes. “Okay.”

  She turned and ran back down the hall. Winter followed. It did not take long to gather up Alice’s few possessions. The little suitcase had not been completely unpacked.

  On the way out Winter paused at the kitchen door. Tyler the Creep was still on the floor; still not moving.

  “Hold on a second,” she said to Alice. “I’m going to call a cab.”

  She used the phone on the kitchen counter. Tyler stirred just as she finished the call. He opened his eyes. He stared at her first in disbelief and then in gathering rage and panic.

  “You did this to me,” he wheezed. “You’re killing me.”

  “Winnie-the-Pooh,” Winter said.

  Tyler gasped, clutched at his chest and collapsed again, unconscious.

  Winter reached down into his pocket, took out his wallet and helped herself to the seventy-five dollars she found inside. She considered the credit cards for a moment and opted to leave them behind. Credit cards left a trail.

  She dropped the wallet on the floor beside the phone and looked at Alice.

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  Alice nodded quickly.

  A few minutes later they climbed into the back of the cab. The driver was obviously uneasy about picking up two kids in the middle of the night but he did not ask any questions beyond confirming their destination.

  “You want to go to the bus station?” he said.