by Laura Scott
“Absolutely.” Mallory played along. “I’m so thrilled they’re opening up a Salvatore’s at home, aren’t you?”
He quickly nodded. “Can’t wait.”
“Thanks again,” Kate said as she walked away.
He stood and placed his hand against Mallory’s back as she led the way outside. There were swarms of people crowding the sidewalks, so he stepped up against the building, glancing around for someone who apparently was willing to talk to them.
“Over there,” Mallory murmured, nudging him. “She’s staring at us.”
Sure enough, a young brunette was standing across the street, smoking a cigarette and trying to catch their attention. “Let’s go,” he said to Mallory.
Mallory took his arm as they walked toward the waitress, keeping up the pretense of being out on a date. “Abby?” she asked as they approached.
The brunette crushed out the cigarette. “Next time, use a little finesse. We don’t talk about Claire in the restaurant. Ever.”
“I’m sorry,” he apologized quickly. “I should have been more subtle. We’re just very anxious to find our friend. When was the last time you spoke to her?”
She gave him a disgusted look. “Drop the act. You’re obviously a cop. I can spot one a mile away. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but Claire is gone and she’s never coming back. I spoke to her the night before she disappeared. Her plan was to go to the police with what she knew and then cash in the expensive jewelry he’d given her to relocate somewhere else, but then she was gone. Poof. Vanished. As if she’d never been here.”
He couldn’t believe she was telling them all this. “How do you know she didn’t disappear on her own?”
“Because she was going to wait until after the weekend, since Friday and Saturday night are the highest-paying shifts.” Abby looked at Jonah as if he were stupid.
That didn’t make sense. “Why would she need to wait tables? I thought she had a big modeling contract.”
Abby glanced away and shrugged. “She didn’t think modeling was going to work out long-term.”
Interesting. Had Caruso threatened to take the contract away?
“Did she say exactly what she wanted to say to the police?”
“No. And I didn’t ask.”
“Have you mentioned at least this much to the police?” Mallory piped up. “Do they know she was going to come to talk to them?”
“Yeah, right.” Abby let out a harsh laugh. “You don’t cross Salvatore or any of his friends. I need my job so don’t ever come into the restaurant asking about Claire again. Understand? It’s not exactly healthy, if you know what I mean.”
Before he could thank her, she disappeared into the crowd of pedestrians.
“I don’t like this, Jonah,” Mallory murmured. “They’re all so scared.”
“She didn’t give us much information. She never mentioned Caruso’s name—she only referred to Salvatore’s friends.” He tried to ignore the surge of hopelessness. All of their leads were just dead ends.
“I hope we didn’t cause either Abby or Kate any trouble,” Mallory said as they walked back toward the motorcycle. “Do you think the hostess overheard us asking about Claire?”
“I don’t think so. She looked pretty busy.” But he wouldn’t put it past a guy like Salvatore to bug the place. Something he should have considered sooner.
He put on his helmet and straddled the bike, waiting for Mallory to climb on behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and he vowed once again to find some other form of transportation. Being so close to Mallory was driving him crazy. He not only admired her, but genuinely liked her, far more than he should.
As he headed down the street, the front wheel on the bike shimmied a bit. He hoped it was nothing
serious—the motorcycle was their only means of transportation. Concerned, he bypassed the freeway to take side streets, trying to avoid the more congested downtown area. When he found one that was less busy, he kicked the bike into the next gear.
The handlebars jerked hard in his hands, and he realized the front tire was loose. He tightened his grip, desperate to maintain control. “Mallory, jump off before we crash.”
He felt her push away at the exact moment the tire flew off, sending him airborne. He hit the pavement with enough force to rattle his teeth and had only one thought before he slipped into unconsciousness.
Mallory.
NINE
Mallory screamed as she let go of Jonah’s waist to jump free. She hit the ground with a hard thud, thankfully landing on the small grassy median before rolling onto the concrete.
Pain reverberated through her body and she lay flat on her back, staring up at the star-laden sky through her helmet while struggling to breathe. This tuck-and-roll thing was getting old. She decided right then she wasn’t going to do it anymore.
Unlike the night she and Jonah had jumped off the train, he didn’t come rushing over to see how she was. He’d stayed on the motorcycle until the last possible minute to save her. When she could breathe, she forced herself to sit upright, sucking in a harsh breath as her muscles protested. She tested her limbs, silently acknowledging that the aches and pains weren’t anything too serious. Thankfully, her new hoodie and jeans had protected her skin. She took off her helmet, the crack in the side proof that it had saved her from a far more serious injury.
“Jonah?” She swept a gaze over the area, almost missing him, as he was lying in a crumpled heap at the side of the road beneath the back end of the motorcycle. Panic stabbed deep when she realized he wasn’t moving.
“Jonah!” She stumbled to her feet and rushed over. With herculean strength, she lifted the bike off and then knelt beside him. “Jonah? Can you hear me?”
He didn’t move for several long seconds. Then suddenly he groaned and turned onto his back. His right arm was literally covered in blood and dirt from the road. The sight was enough to leave her feeling sick and dizzy. She quickly averted her gaze, putting a hand to her stomach.
For a moment she closed her eyes, feeling helpless. Lord, give me the strength to help Jonah. She took several deep breaths and opened her eyes. The nausea had receded to a manageable level. Feeling more secure in her ability to help, she loosened the strap of his helmet and wiggled it off. She pulled open her purse in order to search for her cell phone.
“Mallory?” His hoarse whisper caused an overwhelming rush of relief.
“Are you hurt?” she asked, trying not to look at his bloody arm. His injuries were likely far beyond her capabilities. Her fingers closed around the small cell phone. “Stay right where you are—I’ll call 9-1-1.”
“No. Don’t. I’m fine.” Despite his assurance, he winced and groaned when she helped him to sit up. “Just give me a minute.”
“Hey, are you two okay?” A middle-aged bald guy, as round as he was tall, had opened his front door to call out to them. “Don’t worry, I’ve called 9-1-1!”
Jonah sighed heavily. “It’s okay,” he called out. “We’re fine. Don’t need an ambulance.”
“I think it’s too late for that,” she muttered under her breath when the man threw them a surprised look and then stepped back to shut his door. “Besides, it’s best that you get checked out by a doctor, Jonah. That arm of yours looks pretty bad.” So bad, she could barely look at it.
“Not an option.” The firmness was back in his tone, and despite his injuries he struggled to stand. “We need to get out of here. But we obviously can’t use the bike, so we’ll have to call a cab.”
She helped support his weight, placing her arm around his waist so he could lean on her. “We can catch a cab, but why are you being so stubborn about going to the hospital?”
“For one thing, there’s still a warrant out for your arrest. And look at the bike for a minute.” He lifted his chin in the direction of the seriously crumpled motorcycle. “See how the front tire came off the frame? That didn’t happen by accident.”
She stared in shock. “
It didn’t?”
“No. There was a little shimmy once we got on, and I should have stopped right then and there to investigate. I knew the tire was going to come flying off, which is why I wanted you to jump. Someone tampered with the motorcycle on purpose because we asked questions about Claire Richmond.”
She swallowed hard, not wanting to believe him. But she couldn’t deny how scared that waitress had looked when they’d gone out to talk to her.
She shivered, and not because of the cold. Was it really possible someone had just tried to kill them once again?
* * *
Jonah mentally kicked himself for not figuring out the bike had been tampered with sooner. Idiot. He should have known, or at least anticipated the possibility, especially after the way everyone at the restaurant acted so weird the minute he’d asked about Claire. Even Abby had tried to warn them.
Mallory looked scared, adding to his guilt. He put more weight on his right leg, relieved when the pain wasn’t too bad. His right side had taken the brunt of the crash, but he didn’t think he had any broken bones except for maybe a cracked rib—the right side of his chest felt as if it was on fire.
Thank You, Lord. Thank You for keeping us safe!
“I’ll call a cab,” Mallory said as she opened up her phone.
He put his hand over it, stopping her. “Not yet. Let’s walk for a while first. I want to get away from here. The last thing we need is to answer a bunch of questions when the ambulance arrives. And besides, there’s a good chance the police will be sent, as well.”
“What about the motorcycle? Are you just going to leave it here?”
“I don’t have a choice. Help me pull it off the road.” He hated discovering he was more shaken up than he thought—it took both of them working together to drag the bike up over the curb. As they started down the road, he heard the wail of sirens growing louder and louder. A sense of urgency hit hard, there wasn’t a moment to waste. “Come on, Mallory, we need to step on it.”
“Maybe you should go to the hospital without me,” she protested, even though she picked up her pace.
If he remembered correctly, there was a small strip mall just around the next corner. He tried to ignore the pain in order to walk faster. “Salvatore seems to have a far reach, and I’m convinced he could find me at the hospital, if he really wanted to.” As they reached the corner, he gave Mallory a nudge. “Take a left—we’re going to head back to the main road.”
She didn’t argue, for which he was extremely grateful. Every breath he took caused a stabbing pain in the right side of his chest. He tried to keep his breathing shallow, but that only made him light-headed.
Finally they reached the strip mall. And just in time. The lights from the ambulance raced toward them, and he quickly pulled Mallory into a doorway for a used bookstore. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. Her scent instantly filled his head.
She clung to him tightly as the ambulance rushed past. Even after it was long gone, he didn’t move. Holding Mallory like this felt good. Felt right. And for a brief moment he wished things could be different and that she wasn’t a potential witness he had to keep safe but that the two of them were just a couple on a date rather than on the run.
Mallory shifted in his arms, and he forced himself to loosen his grip. She lifted her head to look up at him but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her mouth. Before he could talk himself out of it, he lowered his head to capture her lips in a tender kiss.
Instantly she melted against him and his brain ceased all rational thought. He lost himself in the sweetness of her kiss until the shrill sound of sirens once again filled the air.
Reluctantly, he broke it off, breathing hard and looking over Mallory’s shoulder as a cop car went whizzing past. It slowed in order to turn the corner, following the path the ambulance had taken to the scene of the crash.
Just as he’d suspected. “Let’s go,” he murmured, disentangling himself from the embrace. As much as he’d enjoyed the kiss, he knew full well he shouldn’t have done it. Cops didn’t do well with relationships. And getting emotionally involved with Mallory wasn’t smart. He couldn’t tolerate the thought of anything happening to her. If he wasn’t careful, dividing his attention between her and finding the proof they needed just might get her killed.
They’d already had far too many close calls.
She stared at him for a second, as if she wanted to say something, but she simply turned away. Was she looking for an apology? He couldn’t blame her if she was.
“Hey, there’s a taxi,” he said, catching sight of one slowing to a stop at the red light. “Come on, let’s snag it.”
Mallory surprised him when she put two fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly. He couldn’t help grinning as she hurried ahead to catch the driver before he took off, leaving him to follow more slowly, holding his arm tight against his chest to minimize the pain.
It wasn’t until they were both in the backseat that he allowed himself to relax.
They were safe for now. But they still didn’t have any proof that Caruso was involved with anything illegal. And while it seemed Bernardo Salvatore was probably involved as well, chances were slim anyone would come forward to help them.
At this point, it was looking as if that proof they needed to clear Mallory might not exist.
* * *
Mallory huddled next to Jonah’s warmth, trying to keep her teeth from chattering. Shock was beginning to sink in.
She wanted to go back to the brief moment when Jonah had held her in his arms and kissed her. She hadn’t wanted to let him go.
But of course they couldn’t just stand in the doorway of a used bookstore forever.
His kiss had surprised her but she told herself not to read too much into it. No doubt it had been a delayed reaction from surviving the motorcycle crash or just a tactic to divert attention. Besides, if Jonah knew the truth about her past, he’d likely run as fast as he could in the opposite direction.
She closed her eyes, wishing she could be the type of woman Jonah could love. But he deserved someone pure. Someone good. Someone like her sister, Alyssa. Not a fallen woman like her. Getting a tattoo under her collarbone wasn’t the worst she’d done.
When the taxi driver pulled up to their hotel, she rummaged in her purse for the cash to pay the fare. It was telling that Jonah barely noticed, and she tried to hide her growing concern as she helped him from the back of the vehicle. He leaned against her, as if his strength was waning.
She opened her room door and flipped on lights as she helped Jonah to his room. He sank onto the edge of the bed, holding the right side of his chest. “I wish you’d go to the E.R.,” she murmured. His right arm was still covered in blood and grit.
“I’m fine. Probably just a cracked rib. I’ll feel better after I rest a bit.”
A cracked rib? Her heart sank. She sighed, knowing there was no way to avoid the task at hand. She’d need to clean up his bloody arm. “I’ll be right back with some water. Stay put.”
“I think I can manage that.”
She took the plastic ice bucket into the bathroom and filled it with hot water. After tucking several washcloths and towels under her arm, she picked up the bucket and headed back to Jonah.
Hoping the spaghetti and meatballs she’d eaten for dinner stayed in her stomach where they belonged, she dunked the first washcloth in the warm water and glanced up at Jonah. “This is going to hurt,” she warned before gently placing the soft cloth over his bloody arm. Covering the blood helped minimize her nausea but when it came time to remove the cloth, her stomach lurched.
He held himself completely still as she worked on cleaning the blood and gravel from his wound. She imagined he was in pain and couldn’t bear to look into his eyes.
She doggedly kept at her task, emptying the ice bucket when the water became too red. As she worked, she grew relieved to discover the wound wasn’t as bad as it had originally seemed.
She ligh
tly wrapped his arm with gauze, and once the open areas were covered, she began to relax. She risked a glance at Jonah, disconcerted to see he was staring at her. “Almost finished,” she murmured.
“Not bad for someone who claims she can’t stand the sight of blood.”
“Yeah, well, I think I’m starting to get used to it,” she responded drily. “But that doesn’t mean I want to keep bandaging you up like this. So let’s not make this a habit, hmm?”
“Mallory.” The sound of his husky voice saying her name made her shiver. Her hands stilled when he reached up to cup her face with his broad hand, his thumb lightly caressing her cheek. “I think you’ve been absolutely amazing through all of this.”
She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. He thought she was amazing? That was only because he didn’t know the real Mallory Roth. She needed to tell him but the words strangled in her throat.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Never thought I’d see the day when you were speechless.”
She wanted to protest when he let his hand drop to his side. Finally, she found her voice. “Trust me, Jonah. I’m nothing special. I’m only doing what I have to.”
His smile vanished and he looked almost angry. “Why do you keep doing that?” he demanded. When she stared at him blankly, he continued, “Every time I say something nice, you put yourself down. And there’s no reason for it. You’re a smart, beautiful, compassionate woman and whichever lowlife boyfriend told you otherwise needs his head examined.”
His pop-psychological assessment was too close to the truth for comfort. She tore her gaze from his to concentrate on wrapping his arm. “Did it ever occur to you, Jonah, that you really don’t know anything about me?”
“I know you, Mallory. I feel like I know the real you, not the person you’ve always pretended to be.”
Avoiding his gaze, she rose to her feet and went back to the bathroom to empty the bucket. She wasn’t used to people—men in particular—looking past the facade she presented to the world. Most men were satisfied with having her act as an arm decoration and nothing more. “I’ll get some ibuprofen. I think you’re going to need it.”
