Randall begrudgingly agreed. Maybe he was getting too impatient in his old age, but he wanted the situation with this woman tied up, fast.
“Hire people to keep an eye on the airports, bus stations, and train stations. Send them a photo of her. My guess is, she’ll be on the run again, and this time harder to catch if she has help.”
Jacob nodded his understanding.
“We need to find her and soon—before she and her friend figure out what those names mean.”
Randall closed his fingers around the padded handle of his cane and lifted from the chair with difficulty. His body wasn’t what it used to be. He used to be active like his son, spending his leisure time running, hunting, and horseback riding. Arthritis and a car accident that badly damaged his leg made any activity difficult nowadays, but his mind was as sharp as ever, like it had been when the managers at two different properties told him about a man asking them and tenants questions. Within days, he’d discovered who Dennis Ray was and what he was up to.
If not for an overzealous police officer who had killed Dennis while trying to extract information from him, they would have wrapped up this mess a lot more smoothly.
“I need to call DC. Keep me up-to-date on the progress.”
Jacob stood, too. “I will.”
Randall was proud of his son and confident he would handle this problem before it got too out of control, and there was still time to do that.
He went into the house and shuffled down a long hallway to his study. With a groan, he dropped into the leather chair behind his desk and unlocked the middle drawer on the right. He picked up the phone in there and dialed the number he had memorized.
The other phone rang four times and then went to voicemail.
“I have a problem,” Randall said.
Then he hung up and waited.
He expected a call back very soon.
16
Shanice awoke to the scent of cooking bacon, toast, and eggs. She’d slept soundly the night before in Cruz’s arms, feeling safe for the first time in a long time.
Stretching lazily, she watched him at the kitchenette, shirtless and standing over a frying pan. Plaid boxers exposed his thick thighs and long legs dusted with curly dark hair. The sensation of one of those thighs between hers was branded into her memory. She’d welcomed the delicious tingle of hair coupled with the firmness of muscle against her skin.
Their hot and heavy make-out session had been her favorite part of sharing a bed with him. His rough hands had spiked heat in her blood and his kisses had turned her on in a way she hadn’t experienced in a long time—maybe ever. She had no doubt Cruz would be an incredible lover, and the press of his hard erection against her ass had made her lady parts ache and convinced her that he could definitely satisfy her needs. But he’d been right to stop them from going any further.
Her roaming gaze paused on an old scar on his back, located a little lower and larger than the one at the front. That must be where the bullet exited. There were other marks on his skin. Fainter ones that looked like lashes, as if someone had sliced him up with a blade or the harsh, punishing end of a cat o’ nine tails. The thought of anyone hurting him made her sick to her stomach. She wanted to go to him, give him a comforting hug, and kiss away the scars that marred his skin.
Shanice blinked back tears of sorrow and sat up in the bed, and Cruz twisted his head in her direction.
“Breakfast will be ready in five minutes,” he said. “Did you sleep well?”
“Best sleep I’ve had in a long time,” she admitted.
“Good.” His eyes did a quick sweep of her upper body before he returned his attention to the pan.
She knew for certain that he wanted her, and though she’d been disappointed by his words last night, she appreciated that he hadn’t taken advantage. Having sex with him was a bad idea. She could easily see herself falling for this man, hard, getting her emotions all tangled up in him. They didn’t know what would happen in the coming days. And he’d been clear about what would happen once they figured out the relevance of the names. He would move on, and all she’d have were the memories of their time together.
She’d never see his face again. She’d never hear the low timbre of his accented voice. The thought of walking away—for good—filled her with longing. Sheesh, she was already emotionally invested and they hadn’t even had sex.
Shanice went into the bathroom and washed her face and brushed her teeth. She put on her dry underwear and did her best finger-combing her hair before she examined her appearance. She wore no makeup, not even lip gloss, but this would have to do.
By the time she re-entered the main room, Cruz had placed breakfast on a couple of Styrofoam plates and poured them each a glass of orange juice in clear plastic cups.
“You’re a great host,” she said, aiming to keep the mood light.
“I do what I can,” he joked back.
Since there was no dining table, she sat at the desk and he sat on the bed, holding his plate in his hand.
“Did you have all this food here last night, or did you leave to get us something to eat?” Shanice bit into a piece of bacon cooked to perfection. Not too crispy, exactly the way she liked.
“I left early this morning and went to the corner store to get us something to eat. I don’t keep much here because I don’t stay here.”
“It’s sort of a hideout spot?”
He smiled faintly. “You could say that.”
She guessed he wouldn’t tell her more and asked, “What’s the plan for today?”
“We’re catching a flight to Houston. Driving would be the best way to ensure we stay under the radar, but that will take too long. I have a friend who owns a Cirrus personal jet, and if I give him a little extra, he won’t acknowledge that you’re a passenger on the plane. Before we leave, we’ll buy a burner phone, and you can call your mother and Beatrice.”
“Okay.”
Cruz set aside his plate on the bed. Resting his elbows on his knees, he studied her with his intense umber eyes. “Your situation could get worse before it gets better. We don’t know what we’ll find once we arrive in Texas. Are you up for all of this?”
Though the gravity in his voice scared her, Shanice nodded. “I want whoever murdered Dennis to be punished, and I want whatever he uncovered about them to be exposed.”
“Bueno. Then we’re on the same page.”
Cruz said the pink blouse she had in her backpack didn’t allow her to blend in enough, so he gave her a blue T-shirt, which she paired with skinny jeans.
He also handed her a navy-blue cap to wear and told her there was little chance of being captured on camera in a neighborhood like this—one reason the area made a good hiding place. Cameras tended to be in wealthier zip codes. Wherever there was money, there would be cameras, but he instructed her to pull the brim of the cap low on her face as an extra precaution.
“Expect the best, plan for the worst,” he said.
He wore a black cap, a black T-shirt, and dark jeans. With his height and build, the outfit gave him a take-no-shit appearance that renewed her confidence she’d be safe in his care. When they were ready to go, he lifted his duffel bag onto his shoulder, and she picked up her backpack, and they left the apartment.
On the way to the store, they walked along a sidewalk littered with cigarette butts and trash, and passed a homeless man sleeping upright in the doorway of a boarded up building. A few blocks away, they entered a store with white bars over the windows and a multitude of signs offering lottery tickets, electronics, and beer within. Cruz instructed her to keep her head down, and she followed his instructions to the letter.
As he stood in line with two bottles of juice, Shanice’s eyes perused the newspapers stacked at the front. Her breath suspended when she saw the headline on the front page of the Miami Herald: Six Men Dead Overnight as Gunfire Erupts in Miami Suburb.
The article mentioned the police were searching for a man and woman who’d fled the sc
ene, and included with the article was a photo of Cruz’s Mustang and two shadowy figures inside. One of the neighbors must have taken the photo with their phone.
Shanice glanced up at Cruz, whose eyes were trained on the same paper. She ducked her head again, fingers tightening on the strap of the backpack over her shoulder, worry gnawing at her insides.
The person in front of Cruz left the line and he stepped up to the counter. “I need a phone,” he said, pointing at one of them hanging behind the female cashier.
He added a Miami Herald to his purchases and they left after he paid.
Cruz steered her to an area between two buildings. “You have five minutes,” he said, handing her the phone. He then stepped away and began to read the article about them.
Shanice was curious about the contents, but she had work to do. The first person she called was Beatrice because she figured she wouldn’t reach her on the cruise ship and could leave a message. She left a voicemail, apologizing for the damage to her home and letting the older woman know she was fine and would be in touch as soon as she could. She ended by thanking her for all her help and then hung up.
Then she called her mother. The conversation was much more difficult, and Shanice teared up as they talked. The fear in her mother’s voice was tangible, and she hated worrying her.
“Mom, I have to go. But remember what I told you. They’re coming to get you today. Get ready to leave, okay?”
“I’ll be fine. I’m worried about you. Be careful. I love you,” Miriam said.
“Love you, too.”
After she hung up, they were on the move. Cruz separated the phone parts and dumped them into different trash bins as they walked along the sidewalk.
“What did the article say?” Shanice asked.
He handed her the paper and she scoured the contents.
“They don’t have much information,” Cruz summarized. “Lucky for you, you stayed under the radar at your friend’s house.”
“This article says that we’re armed and dangerous. It makes it sound as if you murdered those men in cold blood, but you had to kill them because they were trying to kill me.”
Cruz kept up a brisk walk. “You know that, and I know that, but the police don’t. All they know is that we fled the scene and left bodies behind, which looks bad.”
“So we’re fugitives?”
“For now. But they don’t know who I am or have a clear image of who I am. They will figure out who you are. They’re either going to think you were kidnapped, or that you were an accomplice, but we’re going to clear your name, Shanice. I promise you that.” The firm set of his jaw convinced her of his resolve.
Shanice folded the paper and tucked it under her arm. Outside of a speeding ticket, she’d never broken the law. Could this situation get any worse?
“I not only have to hide from the people trying to kill me, now I have to hide from the police, too.”
“Another reason we need to get out of here, and fast.”
They stopped at an intersection to let traffic go by. Cruz took that opportunity to dial a number on his personal phone. She listened to him make arrangements with someone—the friends he’d said owed him a favor. They would help her mother go into hiding and protect her until she and Cruz figured out what was going on with Logan Investors.
He spoke in succinct sentences, using code words like “ship the package.” If she didn’t know him, she wouldn’t have any idea he was talking about taking her mother to safety.
They crossed the street, and after walking a few more blocks caught a taxi to a small airport thirty minutes outside of Miami. The pilot was an older Afro-Cuban, with pecan-brown skin and curious eyes when he looked at Shanice.
After the introduction, Cruz and the man stepped aside to talk and Shanice sat in the quiet terminal, watching the few passengers seated reading or talking on their phones. The airport was much quieter than Miami International Airport. Several of the passengers wore business suits. Two women looked like her and Cruz—dressed casually, flipping through magazines.
Finally, Cruz called her over, and they went onto the airfield. Shanice’s steps slowed when she saw the small plane. It looked shiny and new, painted dark red along the tail and upper half and silver below.
She stopped. “That’s what we’re taking to Houston? You said we were going in a jet.” She’d never flown in anything so small.
Cruz turned to look at her. “A personal jet. There’s plenty of room and it’s perfectly safe. Come on.” He extended his hand.
Against her better judgment, Shanice placed her hand in his, and the comfort of his warm clasp lessened her anxiety.
They climbed into the surprisingly roomy interior, able to accommodate seven people comfortably in tan leather seats. Everything looked state-of-the-art, from the impressive controls on the instrument panel to the USB ports and power plugs throughout the cabin. Cruz sat next to her, smiling reassuringly and looking quite comfortable, with plenty of headroom to accommodate his height.
The pilot conducted the pre-flight check and Shanice held her breath as they taxied down the runway and lifted into the air.
Gripping the armrest to her left as she gazed out the window, her breathing slowly flattened to a normal rate, but the knots in her stomach tightened at the thought of going back to the origin of the crime. This was either a good idea or a bad idea.
She desperately hoped it was a good idea.
17
“This is home.”
Cruz had checked them into a nondescript motel, someplace where they wouldn’t stick out and there wasn’t nosy staff providing customer service they didn’t need. Almost four hours and one bag of vomit later, Shanice felt a bit tired but was in good spirits.
When they had landed, Cruz “borrowed” a gray sedan and switched the plates with a red car a mile away. Then he drove to this location on the outskirts of Houston.
He had parked far away from the front door while she hid in the back seat, out of sight. He returned with the room key and drove around to the back side where their room was located on the second floor. There wasn’t much to see, but it was clean and furnished with a queen bed, a desk and chair, and a sofa beside them.
He’d tried to get a room with two beds, but the clerk told him they wouldn’t have one available for two nights. Wonderful. She looked forward to two more nights of pink balls.
Shanice took a seat on the bed. “What now?” she asked.
Cruz checked his watch. “We wait.”
They didn’t have to wait long. A knock sounded on the door less than ten minutes later. Although he’d assured her they were safe and hadn’t been followed, Cruz lifted his forefinger to his lips and signaled for her to go into the bathroom.
Heart thudding, Shanice scurried inside, turned the lock, and pressed her ear against the door. She’d be so glad when she could go back to her old comfortable life and didn’t have to keep watching over her shoulder or worry every time someone came to the door.
When she heard male laughter, she knew it was safe. Raheem had arrived.
Cruz knocked on the door. “You can come out.”
She exited and got her first look at Raheem, a man Cruz had spoken very little about, but each time he mentioned his name, his voice filled with admiration and affection. They were obviously very close.
Raheem was almost as tall as Cruz, with a muscular build and kind brown eyes. He had a fresh fade and a sexy grin as he extended his hand to her. She imagined he was quite a heartbreaker.
“Raheem. Nice to meet you,” he said.
“Nice to meet you, too.”
He looked at Cruz. “All right. Let’s get down to business.”
Raheem placed a silver, hard-shell suitcase on top of the desk and entered a combination. The locks flew open and revealed a laptop nestled in a black foam cushion. There were other gadgets in there, too, but he lifted out the computer and took a seat.
Cruz went to stand behind him, arms folded, brows furrowed in co
ncentration. Shanice took a seat on the bed, where she had a good view of Raheem’s screen.
“I searched for storage facilities with your friend’s name,” Raheem began, “but there weren’t any rented in the city under Dennis Ray. I expanded my search to fifty miles outside the area, but the few I found didn’t match based on the information Cruz gave me about him. I did a little more digging and found the name of his daughter and tried again. Turns out, Emily Ray is renting a unit in the Houston area, but I don’t have the unit number. Give me a little time, and I can access their computer records and get everything we need.”
“I would have never thought to check under his daughter’s name,” Shanice said, impressed.
“That’s why they pay us the big bucks,” Raheem said with a grin. He tapped a few keys and a window popped open on the computer. “Your friend definitely didn’t want a lot of people to know he had this unit, because it’s not conveniently located. The facility is thirty-two miles from here, on a low-traffic road.”
“That’s all wonderful, but when you find out the unit number, we won’t have a key. How would we get in to see what’s in the storage facility?” Shanice asked.
Cruz answered. “Let us worry about that. How much time do you need to hack their system?”
Raheem shrugged. “Less than twenty-four hours.”
“We don’t have that much time. I want to head over there tonight.”
“I can get inside their system in minutes if I’m sitting in front of the computer.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear.” Cruz addressed Shanice next. “Now I need you to do something. I want you to give Raheem the information, and he’ll figure out what exactly these names mean. While the two of you do that, I’ll order lunch.”
“What kind of disk do you have?” Raheem asked.
“I don’t have a disk. All the information is in my head.”
He glanced at Cruz. “That’s interesting.”
“Before that, the names were written in a notebook,” Cruz said.
Raheem nodded slowly. “Makes sense. No one can hack a notebook.” He opened a new screen. “I’m ready when you are.”
Until Now (Plan B Book 1) Page 10
