The little box popped up again: I was a close friend of your dad’s.
Hmmm, the question of her life lately, to trust or not to trust? She wrote back but didn’t give away any information to this person.
What is your name?
It took forever for the reply box to pop up. Maybe the person typing was in the same quandary.
I’d rather not say, but I knew both of your parents well. They both trusted me. Your dad and I were bowling friends. He went on: Your mama made the best pies, but only for close friends and family. My favorite was her apple.
A grapefruit-sized lump formed in Kirin’s throat. It was her favorite too. And even though she had her mama’s recipe, she hadn’t mastered making it like her mom did. Her mom had made it from scratch only for people she loved. He must have known this. He’d earned a little trust with that one.
Apple was my favorite too. What should I call you?
His reply was immediate: Your dad called me “Kidd” when we were alone, but it had more to do with my farm than my age. I’m only a few years younger than your dad … was.
Alright. Kidd, what can I do for you?
No, Kirin, it’s what I can do for you; I can help keep you safe from the people following you.
Kirin froze. Her heart thudded in her chest. He knew about the men in the black suits. She didn’t know what to type so she stared at the screen until he wrote:
Are you still there?
She typed: I’m still here, wondering what you mean?
The box indicated he typed something else, but it took forever to come through. She examined the computer screen as if her life depended on it. Couldn’t tear her eyes away. This might lead her to answers, or it could be a trap. She mentally ran through her nightly safety routine; she’d locked all the doors, shuttered the windows, and set her alarm. She was fine. Shaking, she raised her hot tea to her lips.
Finally, his message came through. The artifact you were given, is it safe?
Her eyes darted to it. It stared back sitting next to her on the computer table. Lately, she didn’t leave the house without it. It was her security blanket. She wasn’t supposed to trust anyone who asked about the book. She bit her lip and wrote back: Yes, why?
Right on cue, he typed: Have you noticed there are a few items missing?
YES! What does it mean?
As she tapped her foot waiting for a response, she bounced in her seat from either excitement or too much tea. No way she could tear herself from the computer. She would finally get answers that’d stumped her for days. His reply popped up. She read it several times to absorb the meaning.
Your father knew you’d have trust issues in life, Kirin. He gave those torn out pages to certain people, so you’d know you could trust them. I have page 43.
Kirin grabbed the book and ran to the bathroom, dropping the orange sweats and sitting, she flipped through the stupid book to find page 43 missing.
Tears stung her eyes. He knew she’d have trust issues. Of course he did. He caused them! She felt relieved to have at least one answer. But it both rattled and infuriated her. This stranger knew more about her own father than she did.
And if her father couldn’t be involved in her life while he was alive, why leave her all these riddles in death? She got a hold of herself, walked back to the computer and sat. Kidd had typed several quick messages.
Kirin? Are you okay? Are you still there? I’m so sorry. Did I upset you?
She wasn’t sure how he’d react, but she had to try. I’d like to meet you.
After several minutes of biting her fingernails, he finally IM’d back: Not a good time, but soon. Must go, I’ll catch you on here soon. Stay safe, Kidd.
And with that, he was gone.
So now, she knew why there were missing pages, but it still didn’t explain what she was supposed to search for or why these men were after the book.
She rose and stared at the words on her screen. She’d been tired before, but now, determined. She grabbed up the book, her notebook, and pen and sat in her recliner with every intention to continue her search for more clues.
Her tired body had other plans as she fought to keep her eyelids open.
Drifting in and out she wondered why every mystery in this book only revealed more questions about her father. Would she ever know the truth? And the even more disturbing question—was she capable of forgiving him?
Chapter Sixteen
It felt like minutes later when the morning sun peeked out over the trees. Kirin stood, her stiff shoulders ached. She had to laugh at herself for falling asleep so fast. She’d think about the book and Kidd later, right now she had a mission: look fabulous for her lunch date with Sam.
Kirin dried and straightened her hair and pulled on freshly washed baby blue scrubs.
The familiar click of the front door closing, and Rosa starting breakfast for the boys, meant Kirin was behind. She rushed around to finish. Rosa began her morning at the exact same time every day, and the boys slept through it all. The sweet smell of pancakes wafting upstairs with the gurgling of her old coffeemaker, made her smile. Her savior. Rosa made coffee.
Kirin crept downstairs and slid the book in her purse, then grabbed the creamer and a cup. She whispered, “Good morning, sweet Rosa.”
Rosa cut her eyes as if Kirin had called her a bad name.
“Why are you so chipper?” Rosa’s brows furrowed.
“It’s a new day,” Kirin said.
“Hmf,” Rosa grouched. The woman was the polar opposite of a morning person. But the instant the boys’ footsteps reached her ears, she transformed into this sweet, loving, grandmotherly-type person. She was like a street magician pulling a brand-new attitude out of her sleeve instead of a card.
Two sleepy boys ambled downstairs and sat at the table staring. Kirin hugged and kissed them both, grabbed her coffee and spun around stepping right on one of Rosa’s feet. She yelped, and Kirin kissed her forehead.
“Sorry,” Kirin grinned as she sidestepped her. “See you guys later.”
Rosa called out over her shoulder, “Hey don’t forget, Will’s out of school and my sister and I are taking the boys out to lunch and to a movie today.”
Both boys yelled, “Yay!”
“Thank you! Have a great time.”
Kirin ran to her car, jumped in, started it, and slammed it into reverse. She hated being late. Rosa observed her through the front window and shook her head. Kirin laughed. Rosa was convinced Kirin had to be the worst driver on the planet.
She spotted a small red truck on the interstate on her drive toward town, and her heart skipped a beat. She sped up to catch it, only to be disappointed. A bald guy with a goatee sang to his steering wheel until he noticed her and smiled back with raised eyebrows. He must’ve thought she flirted with him. Kirin sped past.
Only a few hours remained until her lunch date with Sam. She could do it. She could focus on her work for a few hours, right?
Kirin strolled into the hospital and spotted Stacy and Laura talking at the nurse’s station with a doctor. Stacy’s face was somber. Kirin remembered reading a work alert late last night that a baby had been taken away from its parents because of meth in its system. Those were the saddest cases.
The morning dragged along with no new babies born but a crop of laboring mothers. She hated to leave them, but it was almost time for her break. As she made her final rounds before lunch, she checked her watch repeatedly.
St. Mary’s hospital sat on a hill but was within a mile of some of the best hole-in-the-wall family diners. Leroy’s was a favorite of hers. Named after the current owner’s grandpa, it was only a ten-minute walk and patrons were usually lined out the door by noon. Her favorite item on their menu was their homemade strawberry shakes, made with real cream and strawberries. It reminded her of some part of her childhood she couldn’t place.
Kirin checked in with her last laboring mom and let her know she had to take a break. Then ran and grabbed her cross-body purse. Adding a little lip gl
oss, she jogged out of the hospital and down the sidewalk. As she rounded the last corner on the way to Leroy’s, she spotted him. Butterflies went into spastic fits in her belly. Slow down. You look too anxious. Walk and breathe.
He was here.
He wore a tight-fitting navy shirt and jeans. She watched as he searched the sea of people but hadn’t spotted her yet. She couldn’t tear her eyes away. He ran his hands through his hair then shook his head as if he’d had a mental disagreement within himself. He looked nervous, but his face softened as soon as he found her.
His eyes locked on target as a smile erupted as if she was the best thing he’d seen in days. Sam walked toward her to bridge the gap. When he was close enough, he reached out and grabbed her hand, intertwining their fingers.
His hands were warm. Tingles ran down her spine as he pulled her next to him. Closer than she’d ever been before, except maybe the night he’d carried her drunk butt up the steps in her house.
This was different, though. This felt right. They belonged next to each other. Before she could even say hello or ask why he didn’t go to the store, he leaned in.
“About time. Don’t think I could’ve waited much longer to see you.”
Kirin could feel the layers of defense melting away. He’d torn down her steel wall of distrust by admitting he felt like she did. She grinned wide.
Letting go of her hand, he opened the door to the diner and led her inside with a protective hand on the small of her back. The clanging of plates and utensils, along with the chatter of hungry customers and the hissing of the grill made the small diner seem loud. The smell of burgers on the grill made Kirin’s stomach growl on cue.
Sam grasped her hand again then pointed toward a table toward the back. Kirin nodded. He snaked around a few tables when someone called her name.
“Kirin?” Her friend Sarah, the matchmaker, stood sporting a goofy grin.
“Hey, how are you?” Kirin sang. Sam dropped her hand. She glanced over at him, puzzled. His demeanor had completely changed. His face was white as a ghost. Kirin turned toward him.
“Are you okay?”
Sam nodded, but something in his bright green eyes pleaded.
Sarah continued, “Well, I see my matchmaking skills are to be commended! I guess you two hit it off Friday night, eh? I told you, Kirin, I had the perfect guy for you.”
Sarah’s grin widened, so pleased with herself until she caught sight of the bewilderment on Kirin’s face.
Everything at that point moved in slow motion. And then it all clicked together.
Sam had been her blind date. He’d stood her up.
He’d left her in misery, drinking herself into oblivion with the barflies. Left her there to think she wasn’t good enough. Made her question her self-worth.
Kirin felt the heat and anger rise in her face, bright pink and hot. But wait, she was supposed to meet “Pat,” not Sam. Kirin spun. A betrayed voice she didn’t recognize, came out of her.
“I thought your name was Sam?” she spat.
“Wait … please … my full name is Samuel Patrick.” Sam reached for her hand, but she snatched it away. He continued, “Some of my friends call me Sam and some call me Pat.” Sarah looked confused, then mortified.
“Kirin, what happened?” Sarah whispered.
“I’ll tell you what happened,” Kirin pointed a finger at Sam. “This man stood me up, then sat back and laughed as I drank too much. I wallowed in self-pity until he swooped in to be the hero. He deceived me into thinking he was a nice guy, which obviously, he isn’t.”
Her stomach churned. She needed to flee. Get the hell out before the tears could fall. She’d been so stupid. Sam touched her arm. Instinctively, she jerked it away.
“Stay away from me, find a new grocery store, and lose my number!”
Sarah’s horrified expression would haunt her. Kirin didn’t have time to explain any further. The tears were welling up. She’d not be giving him the satisfaction of hurting her and watching her ugly cry. She turned to run, and this time Sam grabbed her arm. Hard.
“Stop. We need to talk about this. I screwed up and I didn’t know how to fix it. This wasn’t supposed to happen...” His green eyes pleaded for her to stay, but she freed herself of his grasp and ran for the door.
Kirin jogged the whole way back to the hospital’s parking garage as tears stung her eyes. She cursed herself for being so stupid. What a naïve and trusting fool. Trust. What a shitty word. How does a girl orphaned by her mother, abandoned by her father and then widowed, ever have faith someone could be there for her?
By the time she’d run all the way to her car, she’d stopped swiping at the tears. She let them fall freely now. Kirin jumped in and locked her door, composing herself long enough to call work. She dialed the number and Stacy answered. She gave her a story about not feeling well and needing to go home for the day. Stacy read right through her, as usual, and demanded a phone call later with the real story.
Kirin hung up. Backing out, she half expected a red truck in her rear-view mirror. Part of her wished he’d chase her, so she could yell at him again, but another part dreaded it. His feelings were obviously not as developed as hers. Despite being so hurt, she knew. Knew her emotions ran deep for him. And she was well on her way to falling in love with him.
Well, she could bury those feelings, couldn’t she?
“I’m such an idiot!” She yelled out to the void.
As she drove toward her house, she recalled Rosa and her sister had the boys out all afternoon. All she wanted was a hot bath and her bed, to cry herself to sleep and mourn this failed relationship. She’d harden her heart and get back to life before Sam.
She pulled into her driveway. Breath staggered in her throat from crying.
A man stood on her porch. She slowed and squinted. Her knee-jerk reaction was, “Bring it on whoever you are.” She was in a mood to take on anybody in her way right now. Part of her hoped this was one of the guys in the dark suits. She was angry enough to kick some ass and make them wish they hadn’t followed her.
Closer to the house she recognized his stance. Sam. He’d parked his red truck out of sight from the driveway behind the shrubs that bordered the side of the house. He paced on the front porch with his hands in his pockets, looking anxious and defeated.
Kirin parked on the same side and shut her car off. She let out a big breath, grabbed her purse and walked right up the front steps, past him to the front door.
He begged, “Please, listen to me. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to fall in …” He stopped short.
She wasn’t listening. She turned the key and opened the door, placing her purse on the floor. Rosa must have forgotten to set the alarm because the normal one beep sound didn’t go off when she opened it. Sam walked in, grabbed her around the waist, and covered her mouth in one quick move.
She’d been ready to pummel him with angry words and sling insults at him with her hurt heart, when he spun her around to face him. His eyes dark. He mouthed, “Don’t say a word.” He grabbed her purse and shuffled her to the right and into the kitchen. Right on cue, a muffled male’s voice echoed down the stairs from her bedroom. Her body went stiff. She held her breath.
Someone was inside her house.
She couldn’t make herself move. Her legs quivered and her mind processed what was happening at a turtle’s pace. Part of her newly acquired badass attitude came rushing back. Shoulders down, her back straightened as she glared through her kitchen toward the stairs.
Hell no. This was her house! She struggled to get away from Sam’s grip. Where was that damn baseball bat that always seemed to be underfoot?
Sam sensed her anger and grabbed her tighter around the waist, lifting her off the floor. He pushed her into the pantry off the kitchen. When he released her briefly, he walked straight over to the hidden trap door to the safe room, moved the box and the carpet that covered it without a sound, then opened it as if he’d gone down there a thousand
times.
A different man’s voice came wafting down from the stairs. Two men.
Her two dark-suited stalkers.
Part of her wanted to grab the gun stashed in the pantry and run at them shooting and screaming for them to get out. But under pressure, she may not be able to hit the broad side of a barn if she stood inside it, so that wouldn’t work. Sam picked Kirin up and placed her on the stairs leading down to the safe room. He scampered right behind her and with quiet hands and closed the hatch door.
The safe room had been Jack’s domain. All high tech and packed with everything needed for a three day stay. The space wasn’t large, more like the size of a small office. But, the only thing not high-tech and perfected was the light fixture. It was a naked bulb hanging from the ceiling and when lit, it made the room look like a horror film.
As if on cue, Sam’s head hit the bulb in the darkness with a pop. He must’ve hit it so hard it busted. A piece of broken bulb smacked the concrete floor, causing a tiny tinkling sound.
“Ow, shi—” Sam cursed under his breath, and then, “uh-oh.”
Kirin grabbed a flashlight off a shelf and clicked it on. Blood trickled from Sam’s head and landed on his hand. His body swayed. Apparently, blood made the strong man woozy.
Sam’s eyes rolled back as he staggered to stay upright. Kirin reacted quick, grabbing tight to one arm and holding his back, she aimed his body toward a stack of tarps. He landed mostly on her and partially on the stack, but luckily his fall was quiet.
Kirin struggled out from underneath him and ran to the shelves finding a first-aid kit. Trotting back, she knelt on the floor and angled the flashlight toward his head. Quick fingers checked for tiny pieces of glass stuck in his forehead. She disinfected and bandaged his head. He stared into her eyes the entire time, grinning. At one point, he reached up to touch her cheek. She batted his hand away and kept working on his cut.
Kirin fought hard not to look at him. She didn’t even crack a smile. When she was finished, she rose, jaw tight and determined to harden her heart before he melted it again. The low growl of the men’s voices overhead snapped her back into reality. They had to be directly above them in the kitchen. Kirin froze. She could only make out some of the muffled words they said.
Entangling: Book One of the Kirin Lane Series Page 12
