A heavy sigh preceded the response. “I tried. But I needed to time it right. I needed things to settle.”
“Except they didn’t.”
“No. The bomb at the station came pretty damned quickly.”
“Courtesy of Jesse Garibaldi.”
“Smart, sneaky little sociopath, even if I didn’t know it then. Let his own father die for the sake of the game. Not to mention the loss of your father and those two other perfectly good officers.”
Rush was silent for a moment, and Alessandra knew he must be hurting. She wished she could reach for him to offer him comfort. But she was sure now wasn’t the right moment to interrupt. And he was already moving on anyway.
“And after that?” he asked.
“I was ready to go home,” her father said.
“What stopped you?”
“I got caught by an old acquaintance. I was drowning my sorrows in a Freemont bar, trying to decide what the hell I was going to do, when it happened. A man I knew walked in. Thought he saw a ghost, but came walking straight up to me anyway. Guy’s name was Stuart.” There was a pause. “I take it from your expression that you know him?”
“Not personally,” said Rush. “But my partners saved his daughter’s life. I know he drove professionally for the senior Garibaldi first, and later for Jesse. I also know Jesse killed Stuart because the man was collecting photographic evidence against him.”
“All true. But that came later. Do you know why Stuart started driving for Jesse in the first place?”
“Assumed he just got passed down. Like a family heirloom.”
Her dad let out a chuckle—a sound that Alessandra never thought she’d hear again, and it distracted her so badly that she almost missed what came next.
“Hardly,” he said drily, then turned serious again. “Stuart stuck around for the same reason he started taking pictures. Jesse threatened his family, and he was damned scared the kid—he was only seventeen, remember—would follow through. And why wouldn’t he believe it after everything else? Why wouldn’t I believe it, too? His dad. The cops. He was happy to sacrifice anyone to save himself. Stuart warned me that if I even thought about going home again, Jesse would find a way to get to all of us.”
“I’m sure the caution was valid.”
“You say that, but I can tell that you’re thinking that a man who loved his family couldn’t leave,” stated her father. “But I’m telling you right now, if the stakes are higher if you stay, you do whatever the hell you have to. You tell me you wouldn’t sacrifice your own happiness for the life of someone you love. And I tried my damnedest to come back. I sat around for that entire year after the explosion, waiting for Jesse to go to jail. I thought if he was behind bars, he might not be able to get to my girls. But you know what happened next.”
“Better than most.” Rush’s reply held a hint of understandable bitterness.
“I’m guessing that’s true. I’m very sorry for your loss, son.”
As her father made the statement, a strange sensation struck Alessandra. The exchange she was listening to was a metaphor. It was Alessandra’s past meeting her future. The man she’d loved as a child, and the man she was falling in love with now.
I need to see it, she thought, lifting her lids and tilting her head.
She found them in an odd pose. They stood face-to-face, with maybe two feet between them. Her father had one hand on his head, the other on Rush’s shoulder.
“Your dad was an excellent cop and an excellent man,” her dad said gently. “He loved you. Talked about you all the time with his buddies. So much that I don’t think he even realized he was doing it. I know he worried about how you’d turn out. But I think he’d be proud.”
“Thank you,” Rush replied, his tone sincerely grateful.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“You care about my daughter?”
“I do.”
“A lot?”
“Honestly? I only met her a day ago, sir. But the moment I laid eyes on her, something changed, and I kind of wonder how I lived the last thirty-one years not knowing her.”
“Good.”
“Good?” Rush’s echo was tinged with concern.
“I know it’s been a long time since I’ve had any say in her life,” her father said, “but I feel better knowing that someone else will love her as much as I always have.”
“I’m not following,” Rush replied.
“Fifteen years ago, against the instructions of the Freemont PD, I wrote my wife a note right before I went into the witness protection program. I took that note to her house—to our house—with the intention of leaving it, but I had second thoughts, so I tore it up. I had the pieces in my hand when my wife came home far earlier than she should have. I panicked. Tossed it all in the trash. Then I sat outside for hours, waiting for her to leave so I could undo my mistake. It never happened. She found the note. She taped the damned thing together.”
And Alessandra suddenly saw what her father was planning, and she sat up, the blood rushing to her head and a protest on her lips. “Dad, no!”
Both men turned her way, and Rush hurried to her side. “Red.”
She shook off the hand he put on her shoulder. “He’s going to leave,” she said. “He’s going to confront Jesse.”
Her dad confirmed it with a nod. “I should’ve done it years ago. And it’s my fault we’re in this situation to begin with.”
“Dad, it’s not.”
“If I’d just walked away completely...never written that damned note...”
“You were just trying to warn Mom.”
“And I endangered both your lives in the process. There’s nothing I can do for her. But for you, Lessie... I can make this right.”
“You probably won’t even find him,” Alessandra said desperately. “He told us he was leaving town.”
“I’ll find him,” he promised.
“Jesse will kill you. Literally kill you.”
“I’m going to do my damnedest to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“Dad. Please.”
“Jesse already thinks the two of you are dead,” he replied. “You should take advantage of that.”
Then he leaned down and pushed back a strand of her hair, and grief slammed into her. It closed her throat and cut away her breath, stealing any more words she might’ve added as her father turned and spun on his booted foot. He strode toward the car, slid into the front seat, then fired up the engine. And before Alessandra could even get to her feet, he was gone. She turned to Rush, and she collapsed into his arms, tears overtaking her.
* * *
Rush stroked Alessandra’s back and stared after the disappearing car. He was torn.
Part of him was overwhelmed with the new revelations. Who the hell would’ve guessed that Randall Rivers had been a CI, let alone that the man was still alive? He couldn’t help but wonder how he would feel if he were in Alessandra’s shoes.
Pissed off, he thought automatically.
It was true. He tended toward hostility in situations like this. He’d be furious at being misled. Angry at being made to grieve. And that wasn’t even factoring the current abandonment in the woods.
But part of him understood, too, how the other man had come to the decision. The woman in his arms was more than enough motivation. What wouldn’t he do to save her life? Would he hide himself away for fifteen years? Would he give up the chance to hold her like this? Possibly for good?
Yes.
It would break his heart, dammit. Crush him like nothing else. But he would still do it, if it was the choice between keeping her alive and risking her life.
In that moment, he both hated and loved Alessandra’s father. He’d be eternally grateful to the man for doing what had to be done to save his daughter’s life. And
he’d be eternally incensed at him for making her hurt not once, but twice.
“Red,” he said, his voice rough.
“Please don’t,” she replied against his chest.
“He’s going because he loves you.”
“I know that. And I know you’re going to say that you get why he did what he did all those years ago. And you’re going to tell me we should listen to him and run away, too.”
“Red,” he said again. “I think we should—”
She didn’t let him finish. She shook her head, her red locks flying.
“Honestly, I get it, too, Rush. I’d hide to stop you from being killed. But I’m not dead, and you’re not dead, and he’s not dead. Not yet. But Jesse won’t...” She broke off in another sob.
He held her for another few moments, his thoughts rolling around. He put himself in her shoes once more. What if he had the chance to know his own father all over again? What if he could see the end coming?
I can’t let this happen, he thought, drawing in a breath that burned. I have to think of way to stop it. But first...
“Red,” he said, his voice firmer this time.
She leaned back and stared up at him, her beautiful face streaked with soot and tears and pain and hope. “Yes?”
“You know how I feel about you.”
“I know how I feel about you.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “I suspect it’s about the same. Do you want me to say it first?”
She stared at him, those blue eyes of her wide. “I don’t think we should say it.”
“No?”
“Not yet.”
“What are we waiting for?”
“A moment where it doesn’t feel like saying it is going to be goodbye.”
He reached up to swipe a thumb over her damp cheek, bent to kiss her dirty lips, then murmured, “Tell me what you’d like me to do.”
She kissed him back before tremulously replying, “Nothing too big. Can you just save the whole world?”
“Well. Maybe not the whole entire thing. But I’ll go after Randall, if that’s what you want me to do. I might not be able to beat him to Jesse, but I can sure as hell try.”
“That just scares me even more. If something happened to you, Rush...”
“Two against one might be a safer bet.”
“But it’s not just two against one. It’s two men who mean everything to me...and it’s pitting them against a murderer who has his own mercenary army.”
Her words brought an idea to mind, and he smiled again, more widely this time. “What would you say if I offered to bring in my own mercenary army?”
Alessandra sat up a little straighter. “Your partners?”
“Pretty sure they’d be happy to help.”
“It won’t ruin your case?”
He almost laughed, but settled for shaking his head instead. “You’re worried about my case?”
She frowned. “It’s your case. Of course I’m worried about it.”
He kissed her, then threaded his fingers through hers. He stared down at their clasped hands, overcome with emotion. Everything about the woman in his arms felt right. Like coming home. Like his future. Like every damned thing he’d ever wanted, but had never known.
Like all those sappy love stories people tell, and I never believed were true.
He shook his head ruefully, marveling at the fact that he’d almost left Alessandra on the side of the road. He couldn’t wrap his head around what might’ve happened if he’d done it. But then he just as quickly reasoned that things would’ve turned out the same. That’s what happened when something was meant to be. A thick lump was forming in his throat, and he couldn’t seem to clear it away.
He lifted his eyes and spoke even though it came out scratchy. “Alessandra?”
Her gaze was as warm as he was sure his own must be. “Yes?”
“This isn’t goodbye.”
“What do you mean this isn’t...oh.” Her cheeks went pink under the grime. “You’re not saying it.”
“You asked me not to. So I’ll wait. But I can still think it.”
“Me, too, Rush.”
“You know I mean it.”
“Yes.”
He pushed to his feet, then offered her his hand again. “So let’s do this. I’ll place a call to Harley. He’ll use his magical powers to find a way to slow things down between your dad and Garibaldi.”
She let him pull her up, but her shoulders sagged as soon as she was on her feet. “He’s going to have to have real magical powers. Because we don’t have a phone. Or a car to get a phone.”
“Right. But we can—” He paused abruptly and looked up as a familiar, not-too-distant whir came to life.
Alessandra lifted her eyes, too. “Is that a helicopter?”
Sure enough, a spinning, rumbling speck in the sky was getting bigger and louder by the second.
Chapter 19
Alessandra thought maybe she should be past the point of being surprised. After all, the last few weeks had been one stunning moment after another. The note. The death of her friend at the police station and the loss of her store. Then Rush. Falling for him so hard and so fast it barely seemed real. And the confirmation that Jesse Garibaldi was some kind of evil genius. And the pièce de résistance. The shocking revelation that her long-dead father wasn’t dead at all.
I should be numb.
But as Rush pulled her back into the trees, and the black-and-white helicopter got nearer, Alessandra’s mouth still wanted to drop open. That it was police issue was obvious. The coloring was a dead giveaway. And even if it hadn’t been, it only took a few moments to get close enough for a good view of the logo on the side. When it turned in the sky, she could also see that the initials FCPD were embossed over the front. It only took a second to place what the letters stood for.
“Freemont City Police Department,” Alessandra murmured with a glance toward Rush.
He looked just as surprised as she felt. But he was smiling a little as well. She opened her mouth to ask if he knew what was going on—because he sure looked like maybe he did—but the air was suddenly far too loud for questions. And the propeller-induced wind was kicking up dirt and leaves, too, forcing Alessandra to close her eyes. When Rush slung an arm over her shoulder and pulled her into a protective embrace, she gratefully buried her face in shoulder, waiting out the noise and the flying debris. But the calamity no sooner ended than a new one took its place. Masculine voices filled the air, and when Alessandra opened her eyes and blinked away the dust, she found the source of the chaos in the form of three very different-looking men. Rush gave her a squeeze, then jumped straight into the friendly fray.
“Atkinson, you cranky old SOB,” hollered a clean-cut guy with sandy brown hair. “You look like hell.”
“Your mother would wash your mouth out with soap if she heard you cursing like that, Brayden,” Rush replied, a grin in his voice and his hand out for a shake.
The other man—Brayden—bypassed the extended palm and dragged Rush in for a hug. “She’d forgive me, seeing the state you’re in.”
A second man—this one shorter than the first, but twice as wide—shoved the first out of the way and embraced Rush, too. “We thought you might be dead.”
The third man, who was tall and blond, and sized between the first two, gave the second one an eye roll. “Thought we agreed we weren’t going mention his funeral plans, Harley.”
“Nah,” said the stocky man. “I just agreed to not killing him if he was still alive. Besides that, you were the one saying you were laying claim to his Lada if he’d kicked the bucket.”
Rush turned to the tall blond. “Oh, really? My Lada, huh, Anderson?”
The blond shrugged. “She needs someone who can love her properly, Rush. Neither one of the Maxwell boys appreciates a car the wa
y you and I do.”
“Yeah,” Rush grumbled. “But you could at least wait until my body’s gone cold.”
The blond man clapped him on the back. “Speaking of cold bodies...when did you start talking to real women?”
As every eye turned her way, Alessandra’s face heated. She had an urge to pat down her hair and demand to be allowed to wash her face before they all started scrutinizing her. But it was too late. Each one of the men was already giving her a thorough once-over. She wondered what they saw when they looked at her. Her messy red hair? The dirt and soot caking her skin? The torn clothes? Or maybe just a crazy woman who was in love with their friend after knowing him for a day?
But Rush just chuckled and pulled her back against his chest.
“All right, all right, guys,” he said. “She already knows about my woeful lack of ability to form lasting relationships outside the office.”
Both of Anderson’s eyebrows went up, and all three men were staring at her again. This time, there was a slower, more speculative feel to their examination. Like they’d realized that their jokes might have some merit. And now, rather than wanting to straighten her hair, Alessandra wanted to pull out her credentials. Maybe show them her business degree and résumé. And invite some friends to testify on her behalf.
She straightened her shoulders and said, “So...which one of you is starting the interrogation?”
Immediate, booming laughter filled the air, and Alessandra relaxed.
“Okay,” said Rush. “Before we get into me begging for your help and asking how the hell you found me in the first place, I’d like to introduce you to this living, breathing woman here. Gentlemen—and believe me, I use that term lightly—this is—”
“Alessandra Rivers,” filled in the tall man who’d first greeted Rush, stepping forward and sticking out his hand. “Nice to meet you. Brayden Maxwell.”
Puzzled, Alessandra put her palm in his and shook. “Hi, Brayden.”
He let her fingers drop, then pointed to the tree trunk of man standing beside him. “My brother, Harley.”
“Hi,” Alessandra said again.
Undercover Refuge Page 20
