by Austin, RB
Beep, beep, beep.
5 – 8 – 2 – 9.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
Oh, God, no. Bev hadn’t changed the locks. She’d changed the alarm code. The noise was deafening now. Terror rose. She had to run.
But her bag.
One minute was all she needed.
The kitchen was dark. She skidded to the switches and threw them all on. Light flooded the area. The ceramic tile was slippery underneath her worn soles. She scrambled around the floor, bent at each stainless steel counter to check the shelves underneath. Soon she had only one more counter to go.
“Please be there. Please be there.” Even as the words left her mouth they were drowned out by the alarm. Hearing damage was more than likely possible after this. She wouldn’t even hear if the police showed up.
“Kate!”
She screamed, whirled. Rich Guy. “Why do you keep showing up?”
“You have to get out of here. The police are only two blocks away.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “I have to find my bag.” She turned, half-running, half-slipping to the other counter.
No! Where was it? Her gaze skimmed the rest of the kitchen. Where would Tom put it? Bev’s office. She raced in that direction wondering when the kitchen grew in size.
“Your bag?” R.G. was next to her, keeping up. “The one I gave back to you.”
“Yes. I left it here.” She waved her hand in the direction of the coat rack. “And now it’s gone.” She reached Bev’s door, turned the knob. It went nowhere. She yanked on the knob, pushed against the door. It was locked. The key. She fumbled in her inside pocket.
R.G. turned his head toward the kitchen door. “We have to go, Kate. They just pulled up.”
Panic choked her. “You can’t know that. I just need a little more time. I have to get in here. It’s in here. I know it is. It has to be.”
R.G.’s gaze swept over her face. He said something she couldn’t hear.
“What?”
“Move aside.”
She backed away and watched him take the handle, twist it with a hard crank then push the door open. Her mouth fell open. What the hell? His fancy shirts weren’t designed to hide muscles big enough to break doorknobs.
Whatever. Something to think about later.
Kate tore into the room, searching the floor. Tom might like his area clean, but Bev had no such qualms. Crap lay everywhere. Junk mail. Order forms. A glass rack tilted on its side sporting a huge crack. Papers. The room was small enough that Kate could see the floor with one sweeping glance. Her heart fell. Maybe under the desk.
R.G. grabbed her hand as she started for it. She scowled over her shoulder, tugged to get free.
He shook his head, whipped his head to the doorway, tightened his hold and pulled her out of Bev’s office. He stopped before reaching the kitchen entrance, so abruptly that Kate had to brace herself against his back with her hands.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Can’t get caught. Can’t go to jail.
A cold sweat broke out across her forehead, but she felt oddly comforted by R.G.’s presence, which was another thing to think about, and totally berate herself for, later.
R.G. crouched, yanking her with him. They passed under the circle window. Why had she turned on all the lights? Now anyone could peek in the window and clearly see them. She knew where he was headed. To the back entrance in the corner of the kitchen. Where the deliveries came in.
Kate let out a ragged breath. They were finally out of sight of the doorway. A few more steps they were at the back door. R.G. had it open. Kate had never been so glad to feel the cold slapping against her face, beyond ready to sprint outside. But R.G. jerked to a stop again. She barely raised her hands in time. Why the hell did he keep doing that?
“Wh—” she started. The blaring alarm cut off. Kate froze, whipped her head toward the kitchen. Her ears were ringing. The silence was just as deafening as the alarm had been. Hearing aids were definitely in her future.
She heard sirens. Not from the front of the building, but from the back. Where they were headed out.
This was it. She was done for. Nine years running from the law to get caught now.
“Oh, Stacy. I’m sorry.”
Chapter 30
Lucas heard four policemen get out of their car. He listened to their whispered plan of action. Two would come through the front. Two from the back.
Well, this was tricky.
All for some damn bag. Lucas could buy Kate IDs and clothes. Plus a better meal than bread and peanut butter. Which is what he should’ve insisted on. Instead the police had them trapped inside this building.
He couldn’t afford to get caught and he wasn’t about to allow the same to happen to Kate. He glanced down at her pale face, then to her gloved hand clasped tight in his.
“Do you trust me?” he whispered.
“No,” came her immediate response. She frowned. Her gaze roamed his face. “But I have no other choice.”
Not the full-fledged declaration he’d hoped for, but he’d take it. He let go of her hand and reached for her face. The only exposed skin on her body. She jerked back.
“Don’t touch me.” Her voice was too loud, especially if the two cops in the dining area had good hearing.
“I’m sorry.” He moved too quickly for her to see him, let alone dodge. Cupping her cheeks, he sent the desire to sleep into her.
She stiffened. Her mouth fell open in a silent scream. Her eyes flashed, quickly changing to golden yellow.
Lucas tightened his hold and increased the strength of the impulse. If this didn’t work . . . but then her lids closed. Her body relaxed. He swept her up in his arms, flashed outside and in the next moment was blocks away from the bar, having dodged two cops with guns extended as they hugged the wall outside the door.
Lucas slowed. He didn’t dare go back to his SUV now. He’d get it in the morning. Besides Kate needed to get out of the cold. Her clothes didn’t offer any protection against the weather. He considered stopping to give her his jacket, but it was faster to continue to the church.
The side door of the church was still unlocked. Lucas hadn’t removed the tape, just in case Kate needed a place to sleep. She was too light in his arms, and he easily opened the door, shutting it behind him.
He hesitated inside the sacristy—there really wasn’t a soft spot to lay her in the place—then moved toward the door that opened behind the altar. She would be more comfortable waking in a familiar place.
How long had she been staying in the church? Just another question to add to the ever-growing list.
A minute later he laid her gently on the floor in the balcony. The same spot he’d found her less than twenty-four hours ago. He crouched by her head. In sleep, her face lost all of its hard edges. She looked almost childlike, innocent. Beautiful. He reached out a hand, stopped inches from her face.
No. He couldn’t touch her.
After the show this morning and the knowledge she wore gloves all the time, it was a safe bet that whatever caused her eyes to blaze yellow, happened when she touched something with her hands. Though from her reaction at the bar it was any part of her skin. Did she go through life not being touched?
A heavy weight settled on his chest. Sorrow.
He focused on her face. She still looked asleep, yet her breathing was no longer even and deep.
Lucas stood and was across the room before she finished exhaling her next shortened breath. He sat on the organist’s bench, settling one foot on top of his bent knee. It was a long moment. Had he been mistaken? But then her eyes opened. She scrambled to a seated position, pushed herself against the wall, gaze darting left, right before landing on him. Eyebrows furrowed, she looked around once more. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips.
“Why are we
here? How’d we get away?” She placed a hand on her cheek. “You touched me! Why didn’t I— What did you do to me? Why was I so tired?” Expressions flashed across her face.
Lucas prepared for the emotional onslaught. It didn’t happen. He was almost disappointed. Wouldn’t have minded sharing something so intimate with her. “I’m sorry. I had to get you out of there without the police seeing.”
She pushed to her feet. Stumbled. The color drained from her face. She reached out, caught herself on the railing of the balcony. Lucas was at her side in an instant.
She gasped, held up the hand that wasn’t keeping her upright. “Don’t touch me,” she bit out through clenched teeth, the lines around her face strained.
“What’s the matter?”
“Headache,” she managed.
“Sit down.” The desire to help rode him. His hands clenched into fists. “What if I don’t touch your skin?”
Her gaze flew to his.
The pain in them. He’d gladly share it with her.
“I don’t know what you mean.” The words emerged one at a time with her breath.
Irritation flew through him. Yeah, well, he was pissed off, too. “Stop playing games, Kate. Can I touch your clothing without it affecting you?”
Her eyes narrowed and her mouth opened, but before she could utter a word, she clutched her head with both hands, groaning. Without the support of the railing she weaved, swaying way too close to the balcony’s edge.
Screw this. Lucas put one hand underneath her jean-clad knees and the other around her back and swung her in his arms. The piano bench wouldn’t work. She needed back support. He carried her down the stairs, reigning in his speed, not wanting to startle her, but he did take the steps two at a time.
Her lids were squeezed shut. Every muscle in her body taut.
His gaze stayed glued to her face, wishing she’d open her eyes so he’d know if this was affecting her.
He walked to the first pew and set her down gently. Backed a few steps away. She immediately dropped her head in her hands. Lucas frowned.
“You need something to eat and drink. I’ll be right back.” He hesitated. She still hadn’t moved or responded to his words. “Kate?”
She lifted her head, lids half-open, eyes bleary.
“Will you,” he stopped, swallowed. “Will you be here when I get back?”
“Most likely.” Her voice was barely audible. “I don’t think I can make it to the door without falling over.”
He frowned. Again, that wasn’t the reassurance he’d hoped for.
After she once more buried her face into her palms, he burst into speed. Lucas crossed the lawn and entered the rectory’s front door. He paused, listened to the two sleeping hearts down the hallway mingling with Father Gregory’s soft snore, before heading into the kitchen.
Fridge open, he grabbed the carton of juice and eyed the container of leftovers from the night’s dinner. Some casserole. Would the microwave wake the Fathers? Maybe. He’d say he was heating it for himself.
After removing the lid from the bowl, he placed it in the microwave. Thirty seconds seemed to last forever while he kept track of the choghens’ breathing. Father Patrick stirred, but didn’t waken. Lucas opened the door before the last second to avoid the microwave ding. He grabbed a fork from the drawer and was out the door. No running this time.
His gaze landed on the tangled brown strands of hair surrounding her downturned face. He inhaled deeply. His heart rate began to slow.
Head still cradled in her hands, she didn’t look up when he approached. Her gloved fingers squeezed her temples.
“Here.” He spoke quietly. “Eat something. It’ll make you feel better. I promise.”
She lowered her hands, raised her head as though it weighed as heavy as a crane. “What did you do to me?” Her gaze hadn’t lifted past the food in his hands.
Instead of answering, Lucas set the orange juice carton next to her on the pew. Pulled off the lid of the container, sticking the fork inside.
Kate had picked up the juice and was unscrewing the cap.
He frowned. “I didn’t think. I should’ve bought a . . .” Kate didn’t seem to mind there wasn’t a glass. She drank it straight from the carton like it was nothing.
Could she even use a glass? She drank from a straw at the bar. That hadn’t turned her eyes yellow. The cardboard carton didn’t seem to affect her. What about forks, though? Could she only eat with her hands?
She took a long sip before screwing the cap back on, her nose scrunched. “I forgot how much I didn’t like orange juice.”
“I can get you something else. Apple juice? Milk? Water? Wine?”
She stared at him for a moment, the lines between her eyes pronounced.
In pain? Irritation?
“It’s not that big of a deal. I’ll drink it.” When she eyed the container in his hands he held it out.
“Can you use a fork? Do you need something else?”
Her eyebrow rose. “The fork is fine.”
He watched her expression as she took a bite, wondering if she liked the food, but couldn’t tell. Lucas sat in the pew in front of her, turning to face her. She ate slow, but methodically. Each bite seemed to give her more energy. It wasn’t too long before she scraped the bottom of the bowl. He stood.
“Do you want more?” Wait, there wasn’t any more. How long would it take to make? He’d wake one of the Fathers. Although maybe she didn’t like it. “I can get you something else, too? What are you hungry for? I can get you anything you want.”
Kate eyed him before setting the empty bowl next to her and reaching for the juice again.
He dove for the carton. She shouldn’t have to drink something she didn’t like. Not when there were plenty of other beverages in the rectory and a store five minutes away. Kate jerked out of reach, scooting back on the pew. The empty bowl and fork clattered to the floor.
Lucas stilled, slowly pulled his hand back.
Her heart pounded. Eyes wide.
“Sorry.”
She waited. Tense, as if expecting him to attack.
“I just wanted to get you something else to drink. You don’t have to finish the juice. There are plenty other things to choose from.”
Inch by inch, she relaxed and her heart rate returned to normal. With her gaze steady on him, she leaned over and felt for the fork. She swore softly when it skidded across the floor from her blind search. Her gaze darted from him to the floor, back again. She stretched forward. When she straightened, the fork and container were back in her hands.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Kate. I promise.”
She didn’t answer. Just picked up the carton of juice, unscrewed the cap again, and brought it to her lips. He watched her finish it off in long, deep swallows. Her nose didn’t wrinkle this time. Distaste didn’t show on her face either, when she finished it off.
Lucas smiled.
She stilled. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Her tone was displeased. “I like watching you eat.” He liked being the one to provide for her. He cleared his throat. “Are you still hungry?”
“The headache isn’t so bad now.”
She hadn’t answered the question. “I’m glad. I’m sorry you were in pain.”
“So are you going to tell me what happened? Why were you at the bar?”
He pointed to the empty container and carton. “Let me take those for you. In fact, why don’t you come with me to the rectory? There’s more food.”
She folded her arms across her chest, leaned back against the pew seat. “I’m not going anywhere until I get some answers.”
Lucas slowly sank back in his seat. “I was waiting for you. Wanted to make sure you had a warm place to sleep tonight.�
��
That made her pause and frown. “But what did you do to me? By the door. Before the cops came in?”
“I helped us escape going to jail for breaking and entering.”
The frown deepened. “How?”
He studied her. It was forbidden to tell Followers about the Trihune. But was she really a Follower? “Let’s trade. I answer your questions, you answer mine. We’ll take turns.”
Her eyes narrowed.
He smiled. “How bad do you want answers?”
She was quiet for a moment then smirked. “Fine. I’ll play.”
“And no lying. I’ll be able to tell.” Maybe. Right now he was only getting flickers of emotion from her.
She sniffed. “Whatever. I go first. How did you get us away from the bar so quickly?”
“I ran.”
She opened her mouth, but he cut her off before she could speak.
“Uh-uh. My turn.”
“That’s not fair.”
“You asked. I answered. If you want more detailed answers, than ask detailed questions. My turn. What happens to you when you touch something with bare hands?”
She froze for only an instant then was on her feet in the next. “Forget it. I’m not playing. I have to look for my bag any way.”
Lucas stood, too. “Don’t go. Please. It’s late. You can’t go back to the bar. The police will still be there. Your boss, too. If you show up they’ll get suspicious.”
“Why?”
“Because what reason would you have to be at the bar?”
“No, I mean, why don’t you want me to go? What’s your agenda?”
Lucas let out a laugh that was quickly cut short. How bad was her life that she believed kindness had an ulterior motive? “I don’t have an agenda, Kate, other than to see you safe, warm, and fed.”
