Then there were her parents. She needed to call them. They would be worried unless they thought she was already in bed, sleeping. Somehow she doubted that, though, considering her mother made a point every night of checking on her, and she knew her dad stepped into the room often when he thought she was asleep. This was a mess.
Claudia rinsed away the cheap motel shampoo from her hair and the soap that left her skin tight, but for the first time tonight felt somewhat clean after having scrubbed her skin raw to get off all the dried blood. She was sure her clothes were ruined, though. The tank top, her jeans, and even her bra had soaked up the blood of the dead man she’d tripped over. She’d rather toss them than have the constant reminder of what she’d survived. That brought back the image of the scene, the cops, the dead man, the gun in her face. Each time she relived it, it became ten times worse and left her little doubt that nightmares of it would haunt her.
There was a knock on the door.
“Hey, you drowning in there? Finish up, Claudia. I want to talk to you,” Tony called through it.
She said nothing as she turned off the water and slid the curtain back, seeing the door was locked and letting out a sigh of relief. She dried herself off with one of the cheap motel towels, wrapped another around her hair, and pulled on the terrycloth robe Tony had handed her from the closet before. Her clothes were in a heap on the floor, and she cast them only a passing glance as she pulled open the door and stepped out, taking in Tony, who took up more than his fair share of space. The way she was dressed left her feeling vulnerable, with nothing on under the robe. There he was with his rock-hard abs, shoulders, and arms that could fill every woman’s wet dreams. And those lips, that face, and those eyes, surrounded by thick dark lashes. The color was golden, darker than hers, big, bold. She realized his eyes had a depth, a sincerity to them that confused the hell out of her. He wasn’t handsome, but his look was addictive and attractive. There wasn’t even a ring on his finger.
She took him in, her gaze lingering on the gun still holstered to his side, but his badge was on the stand by the TV with two sets of keys. She spotted her purse behind him on the bed where she’d tossed it.
He rubbed his head, scratching his dark hair as if he was frustrated.
“So you said you didn’t know anything about Llewellyn planting the gun,” she said. “There were a lot of cops there. Another one pulled it from the cart, so he had to be in on it. Then there was Hargraves at the station, who came into the interrogation room with Llewellyn. The way I was questioned, I thought they’d pin it on me. Yet you know nothing of this. Then there’s the lady…”
“Zoe Doucette,” Tony said. His hands were on his amazing hips, and he stepped to the side so she could sit down on the bed. She was so tired, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink. He held up his hand, and maybe he saw the panic that had to be on her face, the heat and the tingling she felt ripping through her as her heartbeat kicked up a bit. “Don’t freak out on me,” he said. “I called the station while you were showering to get the facts, considering they said she confessed. Apparently she did, just like Llewellyn said.”
She didn’t know what to say, and she felt everything drain out of her. “Why would she do that? It makes absolutely no sense. It wasn’t her gun, I told you, and what about the kids with her?” She didn’t think she’d get the image out of her head, the picture of the woman huddled with her kids while everything went crazy, everyone was terrified. “Seriously, I’ve been thinking about this. It’s impossible for her to have done it. I was with her when I heard the shots, and then the cops were just suddenly there. No, it doesn’t make sense. It couldn’t have happened that way.”
He was now leaning against the lip of the dresser.
“And what about the guy, the old guy in the alley? He was there…”
Tony was alert. “What guy?” he said. He took a step toward her, all alpha and intense. “Come on, what guy?”
“Just some old guy, gray hair.” She gestured to her mouth. “Missing his bottom teeth. He was there during the shooting, and he was reaching out to the kids, to her. I thought he might be with them. He was trying to get them to come to him, and they wouldn’t. Everyone was too scared to move. The kids were scared. Then he disappeared around the corner. They said she was a junkie?”
Tony was shaking his head. “Don’t know, but do you think you’d recognize him?”
“Maybe.” She thought about it, but how? Where to look?
Tony nodded, his gaze heavy. She didn’t know what he was thinking. “Llewellyn mentioned your dad,” he said.
Her dad, a man she’d known for just over two years. “Jerry McCabe is my father. His name was brought up in the interrogation. I don’t know much about him. Didn’t meet him until a few years ago. He has a past, is all I know, gambling and stuff. I know he lost everything, which is why my mom walked out on him while pregnant with me. Met him and the brothers I never knew I had, either, so whatever it is about my dad that the cops know him for, I’m in the dark.”
Sort of, she thought. She did know there was more after overhearing Vic talking one time with Aaron about the trouble he’d had to pull their dad out of, the details of which she’d never really learned.
He nodded then, and she didn’t know what to make of it.
“They said my dad was linked to some pretty bad people,” she said.
Tony was watching her, and she couldn’t figure out whether he already knew. “First things first, I’m going to make a run out in the morning to the store to get us some things, but if you’re right about Llewellyn and the fact that he planted that gun, then he’s dirty, and the cops who were there are also in on whatever this is. What I don’t get, though, is who were these three men who were shot and killed, and what about the woman who had her throat slit?”
He was leaning back, looking out the curtain. Her chest tightened, squeezed. This was the first she’d heard anything about a woman whose throat had been cut.
Chapter 11
He needed to hide her. He’d seen and heard enough bad stuff to know that anything could happen. The facts were becoming clearer, though the truth was anything but. If, in fact, it had gone down as Claudia said and the gun that killed those three men had in fact been planted by Llewelyn, then it stood to reason that he’d been the one to shoot them. Then there was the knife found by the hand of one of the dead men, the knife that had slit the woman’s throat. That was another big hole in this puzzle he still needed to figure out. How did that particular woman fit into the picture?
One thing was clear. Claudia was in danger. It had become clearer to him that the man she could ID might very much clear Zoe Doucette. Even though Zoe had confessed, he now suspected a lot of intimidation and threats had terrified her more than the idea of spending her life in prison. It had to have been pretty bad to have her confessing to being the shooter, especially since Tony was having a hard time getting the current story and sequence of events to jive.
What was the motivation here? Why was Llewellyn trying to pin it on a homeless woman?
He shoved the key in the motel room lock. Claudia, who was lying across the double bed, bolted upright in the terrycloth robe, the front gaping open, revealing a hint of her rounded breast. Her hair was a tangled mess, and he tossed the bag on the bed beside her as he closed the door with his foot, juggling a tray of coffee and muffins. He rested them on the counter by the TV.
“Got coffee, muffins. Carrot, I think. All they had. Sorry about the clothes. Had to guess on your size.”
She pulled the plastic bag open, and her cheeks flushed as she looked at the contents, seeing the clothes, the underwear and bra he’d grabbed at the department store down the street and the bottle of hair dye he’d grabbed on a whim. She held the box up, saying nothing, but her eyes asked everything. He handed her one of the paper cups of coffee. She took it with her other hand, dropping the box of color on the bed. She took off the top of the coffee and blew.
“You stand
out,” he said. “Maybe I’m being paranoid, but having you with me outside this room with your red hair, amazing as it is, is probably not a good idea. If it went down as you said…”
She’d be dead if any of the cops with Llewellyn suspected she’d told him anything. The smarter play would be to take her home and tell her to forget everything, then make sure she understood to tell no one anything about what she’d seen, heard, or done—but he couldn’t do that. He needed answers. He needed to see how bad and deep this all went.
“Enough said. I get it.” She blew on the coffee and sipped, then picked up the dye again and looked at the color. “Why black? Why not blond? I could probably pass better as a blonde.”
Was she serious? He just shook his head and jutted his chin. “No, go dark. Add some dark glasses and you won’t stand out as much. Besides, this isn’t a fashion show,” he said.
She pulled from the bag the black T-shirt he’d bought, the first thing on the rack that looked as if it would fit her and wouldn’t stand out. The jeans she held up with one hand and frowned. “Okay, I get it. So I dye my hair and then what? Because first I need to call my parents.”
“Fine, you do, but make something up when you talk to them. Tell them you’re staying at a friend’s house or something. You lost your phone… Whatever, just be creative. I’m sure that shouldn’t be a problem.”
Her glance over to him could have melted ice. “In what context should it not be a problem? Because I’m kind of confused why you think blowing off my parents like that would work or would be easy. Really, staying at a friend’s house?”
“Everyone tells their parents things that aren’t true about where they are.”
She was shaking her head. “You don’t get it, Tony. I haven’t. I don’t. It was just me and my mom until a few years ago, and then I had an instant family I didn’t know about. I’m still finding my footing, and here you have me making up stories, lying. To what end? I’m confused.”
Okay, maybe he really did have her all wrong. “Well, at least try, because it would be best for them if they don’t worry,” he said.
The look she gave him let him know it was too late. “They’re probably freaking out. I lost my phone, remember, and I didn’t come home last night. No, I don’t sleep over with friends. I have a home, a room, and I also guarantee you they’ve been blowing up my phone. My mom, she checks on me every night…” She rested one hand over her face, shutting her eyes, and he didn’t know what she was about to say. “I have an odd family, but I guarantee you my mom would have known I didn’t come home, and…” She stopped talking again and shut her eyes as if she’d remembered something. “They knew I was going to the coffee house. The shooting would have been all over the news. I should have called them before, as soon as we got here. I should have gone into the house. Llewellyn drove by. Do you think he was watching the house, or one of the other cops?”
He could see the panic, the fear, as she clutched the clothes he’d bought her and rested the coffee cup on the beside table. Tony wiped his face, hearing the scrape of whiskers. He needed to shave, and he needed a shower too, and a change of clothes. He’d have to go home for that, though, and until he had Claudia looking far different than she did, there was no way he was taking her outside this motel or anywhere in public, where by now she’d most likely have a target on her back.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure. If they are watching, they also know you’re not there. So call. Whatever you do, calm them, soothe them, pacify them, and for God’s sake, make something up that’s passable and believable. Find out whether they reported you missing. If they did, every cop is going to be looking for you.”
They’d suspect something was amiss, and until he figured out what Llewellyn had done, Tony knew for certain that having a dead witness would help no one, especially Zoe Doucette, who was now sitting with her ass planted in a cell. The way everything was stacked against her, that woman would never see the outside of a prison again.
Chapter 12
She was dressed in a cheap knockoff pair of jeans, but they fit reasonably well. So did the B-cup bra Tony had picked up. The fact that he was comfortable picking out clothes for her, intimates that were a perfect fit, should have bothered her. The loose black T-shirt was comfortable even though it wasn’t flattering, but she got it now as she stared at the strange image staring back at her in the motel room mirror. This was about survival and hiding. She tucked a strand of her long and now very dark hair behind her ear, not recognizing the stranger in front of her.
She held Tony’s cell phone to her ear. He’d said no to using the motel line. Cautious, she got it. Tony was watching and waiting for her to sell her parents on some lie she had yet to figure out.
“Hello?” Her mom sounded so tired.
“Hi, Mom. It’s Claudia.”
“Where are you? I’ve been so worried about you. Are you hurt?” Beyond frantic. She’d never heard her mother so upset.
“Mom, stop. I’m fine.” She could hear voices in the background. She wasn’t sure who.
“No, she said she’s fine.” Who was her mom talking to? “Where are you?”
“I’m…” She turned and stared at Tony, who was shaking his head. Of course he could hear. “I can’t tell you where I am, but I’m safe. It’s just…”
“Claudia, it’s Chase.” Her brother was on the phone, and she could hear her mom now in the background, her dad too, other voices. This was worse.
“Hi, Chase. Did Mom call you?” Of course she had. Who else? She gestured helplessly to Tony, who was now sitting on the edge of the bed, both feet on the floor.
“Yeah, she did, last night. We all heard about the shooting and have been calling your cell phone over and over. Mom said the news reported four dead, and one was a woman.”
“So she thought it was me.” Claudia hadn’t even known about the woman until a few hours ago.
“Kind of the way it goes, kiddo, when we can’t find you and you don’t come home and don’t answer your cell phone. Whose phone are you calling from? It’s not yours, and it says private caller on the screen.”
She pressed her fingers to her forehead and rubbed. She couldn’t look at Tony, because blowing off Chase, the lawyer and former aide to a senator, wasn’t going to happen. “I kind of can’t tell you.” She winced when she heard his sigh.
“And why is that, Claudia? Are you in some kind of trouble? Because this is really sounding bad. I’m worried.”
Trouble? Define trouble. She shook her head as she stared over to Tony, who was now standing in front of her. “I can’t say, but just tell Mom and Dad I’m okay, and don’t call the cops. Don’t start looking for me. I wish I could tell you—”
“Right now, Claudia,” he snapped, cutting her off, “I’m starting to imagine some pretty bad things. One being that you’ve gotten yourself into something. Did you see the shooting? Were you there? What happened?” He was demanding, and she could hear a door closing, then quiet. “Come on, Claudia. This is me. I know we don’t know each other well, and I wish we did, but if you’re in trouble, I can help. Is there someone with you right now? You didn’t answer me on whose phone you’re using. You tell me everything, I’ll come and get you. I can fix this.”
She turned her back to Tony, feeling his heat behind her, knowing that if he understood who her brother was, he’d want his help. “You can’t tell anyone, Chase, especially the cops, but I’m at the Red Herd Inn, room 224—”
The phone was ripped from her hands and disconnected, and she took in the fury and horror on Tony’s face as if she’d done the worst thing, the one thing he’d asked her not to do. “Why? You just put a target on your back. What the fuck, Claudia?”
She shook her head. “No, I didn’t. What I did was get us some help.”
He made a rude noise, rubbing his hand over his head, pacing, and she realized that was what he did when he was frustrated. “You just told—”
“I told my brother, Chase McCabe, who’s a lawyer, by t
he way, and used to be a fixer for some pretty big people in Washington. If anything, he’s the one person you want helping. And he can keep my parents calm, my dad—not that I know how my dad is going to react, but he has a way of fixing everything for everyone. He just can’t keep out of everyone’s business. He’s a good guy.” He was the one person she’d wanted at that police station.
Tony was still shaking his head as if he wasn’t convinced, and then he went to the door, looking out and closing it again. “Well, I hope you’re right, Claudia, but if you’re not…” He let it hang unfinished. She wanted him to say it, but at the same time she didn’t.
“And what’s your plan, Tony? How do you think you’re going to get me out of this mess? How are you going to keep away whatever trouble I can’t even imagine your cop friends would want to bring down on my dad, my mom?”
She waited for him to say something, anything, but instead he reached for his badge and tucked it in his back pocket, then picked up the keys in his hand, staring at the door as if he was about to walk out and not come back. Then he turned to her, and everything in his face was one big question.
“One, I’m getting you out of here, and two, we’re going to find that man you saw in the alleyway. Then I’m going to find a way to shine a light on what really happened.”
He pulled open the door, and Claudia jumped, because there in the doorway, staring back at Tony, were Chase and Vic.
Chapter 13
There was a moment, when he opened the door to the motel room and saw the two men on the other side staring him down, that he considered pulling his gun. That was until the dark-haired man with dark eyes that could have been ripped from the devil himself, as they were filled with a vengeance he didn’t see often, stepped inside. The man behind him was big and tall as well, with light blond hair and blue eyes that were far different.
Don't Leave Me Page 5
