Catch Me If You Can

by Liliana Hart

  “Umm, Shane,” she said nervously, looking at what was coming up.

  “A little busy right now, Sugar. Just keep driving.”

  “Tollbooth,” she said softly.

  “What?”

  “There’s a freaking tollbooth in front of us!” she screamed, “and I’m a little short on change right now.”

  “You’ll just have to wing it. Try to keep the car in a straight line. No sudden movements,” he ordered.

  Rachel was beginning to miss the concussed Shane who couldn’t open his mouth. She growled low in her throat and kept the pedal pressed to the floor. The booths were all manned and the gates were slowly letting people through the line. She found a lane with no cars and did as Shane said.

  He grunted as he lifted the rifle so it was propped on the back of the seat. His shoulder was bleeding again, and she knew he had to be in a tremendous amount of pain. If they got out of this alive, she swore she’d play Florence Nightingale without any complaints. She’d even get rid of the little ones inside her head.

  “What are you waiting for?” she asked as the gate got closer. Panic and fear rose in her throat, but she kept driving, both hands steady on the wheel. A man stuck his head out of the tollbooth and waved his arms, gesturing for her to slow down. But when she didn’t comply he opened the back door of the booth and ran away. Rachel didn’t blame him. She wanted to run away, too.

  She squeezed her eyes shut at the last second and they crashed through the gate. Cars swerved and horns blared, but she kept the car moving forward in a straight line. The black car was through the gate seconds behind them. She heard two pops from the rifle in Shane’s hands and the squeal of breaks. The black car’s tires blew out and it flipped into the air, rolling across four lanes of traffic.

  Rachel let out the breath she’d been holding.

  “Right there,” Shane said, pointing to a parking garage. “That’s long term parking. We’ll make a quick car switch and get out of here. We’ve got to get back to the main road before they get smart enough to close all the airport exits. It’ll take them at least another ten minutes to get things organized. The police don’t have the authority to shut down the airport. It has to go through federal channels.”

  Rachel pulled into the long term parking lot and into the first empty spot she came across.

  “Dammit, Shane, let me help you get out,” she said as he tried to maneuver out of the car by himself.

  “I can take care of myself. Pop the trunk and get whatever’s in there while I find a car.”

  Rachel blew out a breath in frustration and did as he said. There’d be plenty of time to argue with the stubborn man later. She gathered a couple of duffle bags that were in the trunk and stood by, silently arguing with herself, as Shane struggled to stand upright and pick the lock on an old Honda Civic.

  The car door opened and Shane slid behind the wheel, his hands clumsy as he took the plastic off the underside of the wheel and stripped the wires. Rachel threw the bags in the backseat and waited outside the car until she heard the purr of the engine.

  “Don’t even think about driving,” she said. “You wouldn’t make it down the block.”

  Shane scooted across to the passenger side and leaned his head back against the seat. He closed his eyes for a second and caught his breath. Sweat beaded on his brow and his hair was damp with perspiration. His skin was pale and his breathing labored.

  Rachel pulled the stolen car back out to the main road and was glad to see Shane had been right about the authorities not being organized enough to shut down the airport in a timely manner. Too much red tape. God Bless it.

  “Give me the map,” Shane said. “I’ll see if I can find a back road to get us to the safe house. The less visible we are the better.”

  Shane navigated her down one lane, dirt roads and what looked like cow pastures. She never would have found her way to the little town without his help. It was barely a spec on the map with a total population of less than five hundred.

  “There it is. County Lane 245,” Shane said, pointing out the window to a wheat field.

  “There what is?” Rachel asked. “There’s nothing out there.”

  “Look at the fence and tell me there’s nothing out there.”

  Rachel looked at the expensive iron fence that was weaved with barbed wire and thought Shane might have a point. She pulled the car onto a dirt drive and stopped at the gate. An electric keypad sat off to one side, so she rolled down her window and entered the code Jones had given her, keeping her fingers crossed that it worked and a team of FBI agents wasn’t about to swoop down on them.

  The gate opened slowly in front of her and she drove the car through. She needed a shower, a hot meal and a big glass of wine. Rachel looked over at Shane and saw he was slumped forward, only his seatbelt keeping him upright. She reached over and touched his forehead. He was burning with fever and his face was flushed. The other things could wait. Shane was her first priority. If only she could find the damn house.

  Rachel drove down the dirt path for more than a mile before seeing anything other than waist-high grass and wheat. A big red barn came into view, and it looked to be in bad shape. Windows were broken and wood had rotted away, leaving holes large enough for a horse to walk through. But the dirt road continued around the side of the barn, so she kept following it and ended up inside the barn itself.

  She was in a garage of some sort and there was a perfectly sturdy looking wall right in front of her. There was a thick metal door with no doorknob and a keypad similar to the one at the front gate next to it. It looked like the old barn was just a cover for the real safe house. She put the car in reverse and pulled out of the garage, turning the car around so she could back it in—just in case they needed to make a quick getaway. She’d learned that little trick early on in her attempts at running away.

  She assumed the keypad used the same entry code as the front gate and typed it in. A little green light flashed above the door and she heard the snick of a lock. She pushed open the door, unsure of what she’d find waiting for her on the inside, considering what the outside looked like.

  It was a small space, but it was clean and there were no holes in the walls. After staying at Jake’s otel almost anything would be an upgrade, but this was very nice. She went back to the car and tried to wake Shane. He mumbled something incoherent under his breath but didn’t open his eyes.

  “Come on, tough guy. I need your help here,” she said as she moved under his arm and tried to pull him out of the car. The man was solid muscle and had a good hundred pounds on her.

  “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist me,” he said, nuzzling her neck.

  “Yeah, you’re a real catch right now.”

  He stumbled against her as she walked him into the house and closed the metal door with her foot. She led him into one of the two bedrooms and laid him down gently on the bed. He was burning with fever and hot to the touch. She had to get him out of his clothes and cool him down. And then she had to figure out what to do about the wound in his shoulder.

  Rachel turned to get the bag of supplies out of the car, but a strong grip around her wrist stopped her in her tracks. Shane pulled her down so she was sprawled on top of him.

  “Don’t leave,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.”

  His grip was powerful, bruising, and it amazed her how much strength he had even in the condition he was in.

  She tried to soothe him as best she could. He was getting agitated and tossing and turning on the bed, no doubt because of the fever.

  “I’m not leaving. I just need to get a few things to make you feel better.”

  “Promise me,” he said, increasing his grip till she yelped at the sting. “Everyone I love is always leaving me. Can’t take it anymore. Hurts too bad.”

  Rachel assured herself that he didn’t know what was saying, but it was still a nice feeling for him to believe he loved her. “I promise I won’t leave you.” She bent her head and kissed him sof
tly on the cheek.

  Rachel ran and got the bags out of the car and dropped them in the dining room. Wildcat’s instructions rang in her head, and after the day they’d just had she didn’t want to take any chances, so she double checked the door locks and looked around the house for an alternate way to enter. Or exit.

  The place was very plain, laid out like a small two bedroom apartment. The floor and walls were beige, as were the countertops and bathroom fixtures. She didn’t find any other doors or windows in the house. There was only one way in and one way out as far as she could see, and claustrophobia wound its way around her. Having an alternate route of escape had been a habit since she’d first disappeared, and she hated the feeling of being trapped.

  Rachel riffled through the drawers and cabinets until she found the things she needed for Shane—scissors and plenty of towels and rags. She carried the bags of supplies into the bedroom along with a large bowl of water. It was time to get down to business and get Shane back on his feet. She could freely admit now that she needed him to help her get out of this mess alive.

  “Okay,” she said, preparing herself. “We’ve got to get those clothes off.” She held the scissors in her hand and looked nervously at the man lying before her. “Suck it up, Rachel. You’ve seen a naked man before.” But her subconscious was telling her she’d never seen a naked man like Shane Quincy before. And she knew her subconscious was right.

  Rachel cut away his shirt and winced as she pulled it away from the wound at his shoulder. The blood had caused the shirt to stick to the skin and she had to soak it with water before it would come free. She pulled off his socks and shoes and tackled the button of his jeans. His chest and stomach were hard with muscle and a fine sprinkling of dark hair covered his chest and trailed its way down below the waistband of his jeans. Rachel chewed on her lip nervously and tugged at the denim at his hips. And when she finally pulled them off and got a good look at Shane Quincy in all his glory, she was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one who was burning with fever.

  “Maggie,” he called out, thrashing around on the bed, his sweat-soaked body already dampening the sheets. “Maggie!” His demands for his dead wife grew stronger the higher his fever went, and Rachel felt tears sting her eyes at his obvious pain.

  “Ssh, it’ll be okay,” she soothed. “I’m here with you, and nothing bad is going to happen.”

  “Rachel?” he whispered.

  “That’s right. It’s Rachel.” She bathed him with cool water and cleaned the wound at his shoulder. He was right that it wasn’t so bad. There was only a small entry and exit wound, and the area didn’t seem to be infected. She applied some salve and wrapped it in bandages.

  It was the knot on his head that looked bad. A lump the size of an egg protruded into a starburst of color. She’d read somewhere that a person needing to stay awake while they had a concussion was just a myth, but she wasn’t sure. She tried to wake him and get him to swallow more pain killers, but he was all the way out.

  It was well after dark by the time she’d finished seeing to Shane’s comfort. She took a quick shower, heated a bowl of soup and ate standing over the sink while watching the clock on the wall. It was ten o’clock and Jones Daugherty still hadn’t shown up. Was it just a coincidence that the men in the black cars had found them so soon after she’d talked to Wildcat? She couldn’t be sure, and she didn’t know what Wildcat’s absence meant, but the gnawing in her stomach told her it couldn’t be good. She was beginning to think Shane needed to think twice about who he could trust.

  Rachel checked the door and made sure the code was set before turning off the lights and climbing into bed next to Shane. He was still as death, and Rachel wondered if he’d remember the promise she’d given him to never leave him. She curled up next to him and tried not to think about the day she’d have to break that promise.

  Chapter Ten

  Two days and nights passed, and there was still no change in Shane’s condition.

  Rachel’s nerves strung tighter the longer time went on and no word came from Jones Daugherty. She found herself jumping at every creak and shadow, and the safe house was starting to feel like a prison instead of a haven. The duffle bags that had belonged to the shooter in Tulsa were full of guns and cash, and she made sure each weapon was loaded and put in a spot she could reach easily.

  The wound in Shane’s shoulder was healing nicely, but the fever hadn’t gone away. He woke in fits and starts, and his body was restless on the bed. His speech was jumbled and incomprehensible, except for the times he’d called out for Maggie. It was Maggie he saw in his fevered state, and he’d begged her forgiveness repeatedly. Rachel tried not to let the slip hurt her, but it had. Because she could never be the woman he really wanted.

  His nightmares hadn’t stopped just because of his injuries, but now he was trapped in them, caught somewhere between the past and the present, and the torture only stopped when the final scene had played out. It destroyed her to see his torment over and over again, and she was helpless to stop it.

  Rachel did her best to cool his fevered body off with damp rags, but his skin was hot to the touch and seemed to grow hotter as the hours passed. She whispered assurances in his ear as he thrashed about on the bed and held him down when his struggles loosened the bandages over his shoulder. She’d had little luck getting medicine or soup down his throat, but the few times he’d woken she’d cajoled, begged or forced them down. She went to bed each night feeling as if she’d fought a battle. And lost.

  ***

  Shane drifted awake slowly, his mind disoriented and his body aching. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was exactly. He took stock of his body, cataloguing the stiffness in his shoulder and the nagging headache just behind his eyes. He stretched his sore muscles slowly, and cool sheets shifted around his naked body. And as he moved something soft and warm pressed up against him.

  He’d know the feel of her anywhere. The scent of her. She was unique in every way, and he was beginning to get used to the way his body hardened every time she was near. But why was Rachel in bed with him, and where were they? What had they done? And why couldn’t he remember?

  She was pressed close enough to him so he could feel every curve of her body. He drew her closer and she tangled her legs with his in sleep. Her skin was silky smooth and her hair fell softly over his chest. Her breathing was slow and steady, and he found it sweet the way she snuggled into him, as if she needed him to sleep peacefully.

  His body woke much faster than his mind. Sleep and confusion still clung to him and his instincts took over. He ran his hand down her back, past her hip and thigh and then back up again, marveling at the different textures of the soft cotton shirt and silky panties she slept in to the smooth expanse of skin. She sighed and her breath feathered his skin, hardening him to the point of madness, and her hands moved over the bare skin of his abdomen. She was temptation and desire, every forbidden pleasure he could think of wrapped into one. He sucked in a breath and knew he had to have her, wondered why he’d waited so long.

  Rachel was branded in his mind, on his skin. His name escaped her lips and he was trapped in her spell. Shane couldn’t help but lower his lips and gently kiss her cheeks, her chin, her lips. His hands found their way under the shirt she wore and skimmed over the soft mounds of her breasts, rubbing across her sensitive nipples, causing her to moan and shift restlessly against him.

  She murmured sweet sounds of want and need into his mouth as her hands became more aggressive. He rolled so she was pinned beneath him, and he had no conscious thought of removing the shirt or filmy scrap of lace at the juncture of her thighs. He only knew that they were finally skin to skin. Shane wondered fleetingly if it was all a dream and hoped he’d never wake if it was true. It was just the two of them, brought together in an unknown time and place. There was no danger or reckless chances. Just a man and a woman lost in each other. Made for each other.

  Rachel moaned as his lips found
her breast and desire roared through him. Her breath was faster now, and he knew if there’d been light in the room her gaze would have been locked on his, filled with the same longing he knew was in his own. He needed her. Needed to possess her, needed her to chase away the demons of his past.

  Her fingers pressed into the flesh of his back and her legs scissored around him, so they were locked heat to heat, heart to heart. She arched against him in desperation, and the shaky control he had over his body snapped.

  His mouth clamped to hers. Tongues mated and passions raged. And then he was inside her, and he wondered how he could have ever been any place else. She clamped around him tightly and screamed out in ecstasy. Her moist heat pulsed around him and the sensation was more than he could bear. He buried his face against her neck and whispered her name as he found fulfillment.

  It was her name he whispered. And no one else’s.

  ***

  Rachel opened her eyes but only saw darkness. Her skin was damp and cooling and tears ran down her cheeks. She wasn’t sure why other than the fact that making love with Shane had been the most beautiful experience of her life. The problem was it had probably been nothing more than simply satisfying the body to him.

  Shane’s body was still heavy on hers, his breathing erratic and his skin heated. Their hearts thumped in time and she could still taste him on her lips. She’d never felt more attuned to anyone. Or more alone.

  But she couldn’t enjoy the afterglow of their lovemaking. Her mind kept screaming she’d made a terrible mistake. Questions of doubt bombarded her. How could she have let this happen? Didn’t he know how much he could hurt her? Did he even care? Apparently he had no problems making love to another woman when he was still in love with his dead wife. She’d been called Maggie enough in the last two days to feel a bitter jealousy toward a woman she hadn’t even known.