Mother by Fate

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “That’s right,” the man said, over a big bite of toast.

  “Are you two married?” Sara asked, looking between the older couple. They both laughed.

  “You kidding? Me marry him?” the woman said. “Why would I? He ain’t got nothing, not even a shirt on his back most days.”

  “She gives it up for free,” the man answered, guffawing right back. “No need to marry this one.”

  “If you ever need anything, you give me a call, okay?” Sara handed them her card, with the twenty-dollar bill she’d had in her pocket held to the back of it.

  She nodded at Simon. He was going to hate her when he found out that she’d turned him in. But maybe someday, even someday soon, he’d be glad she had.

  Reminding herself that she couldn’t right every wrong in the world, she hurried back toward the SUV.

  Michael would be inside long before she got there. Their routine was established.

  The only difference was, this time when she climbed in beside him, she wouldn’t be shaking her head.

  CHAPTER TEN

  MICHAEL PUT THE pedal to the metal between Mariposa and the little berg that housed the first bus stop between there and Santa Barbara. If Nicole had just gotten on the bus, then he was going to be at the stop to meet her when she got off.

  Mari had baby kittens. And wanted him home for dinner.

  And the disappointment he was fighting off due to the possibility that he was soon going to have his prey safely confined issued a very direct warning to him.

  One he couldn’t ignore.

  Catching a runner absolutely did not cause disappointment. To the contrary. A successful catch usually allowed him a couple of weeks at home without burning with the need to be out catching more criminals—and a couple of weeks’ worth of good night’s sleeps, too. But then catching a runner didn’t usually mean ending his association with Sara Havens.

  What was it with this woman? It wasn’t as if she was the only female in the world. Or even the only female non–family member he’d spoken to lately.

  It had to be because of the job. The adrenaline rush of being on the hunt.

  “When this is over,” he said, “I have a favor to ask.”

  “What?”

  “Let’s agree to have dinner. Just one dinner.” That was all it would take to rid him of this crazy idea that she was special. One in a million.

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re under my skin.”

  “And one dinner is going to take care of that?”

  “I don’t know. But I’m willing to find out.”

  “I... My life doesn’t lend itself to dating.”

  She was blowing him off.

  “One dinner,” he insisted anyway.

  Her hesitation told him more than she probably wanted. There was something there. Between them. She couldn’t just say no.

  “Maybe this... Back in the hot tub... It’s probably all in relation to our heightened emotional states over Nicole.” He had a degree in psychology, too. Intellectually he could meet her where she worked.

  “One dinner, maybe,” Sara said, staring straight ahead. “No guarantees.”

  “Fine.”

  “Just to wrap things up,” she added. “And that’s it.”

  She was set on keeping things professional. That was fine with him. Worked for him. No need to face internal garbage about being unfaithful to Shelley’s memory.

  To that end—keeping things all business—he started in on Sara as soon as he was on the freeway. “That stuff you said about Trevor Kramer being an Ivory Nation brother—if you’re trying to convince me, I just want you to know up front that I don’t think you’re right.”

  They’d have one dinner. Later. And she’d be ordinary. Just another good-looking woman.

  “I’m not a manipulator, Michael. I’m only trying to keep everyone alive.” She hadn’t said she wasn’t trying to convince him.

  “So am I.”

  “Even Nicole?”

  “I haven’t brought in a dead man—or woman—yet.”

  “But you wear a gun when you’re working.” She’d glanced at his belt that morning. And looked at it again now.

  And he found that he liked having her look at his gun. Or in the vicinity of his gun. God, he needed this job done. Or to never end.

  “Bounty hunters wear guns. So do cops. But they don’t wear them to kill people. They wear them for protection. Others’ protection, as well as their own.”

  “But they do kill people sometimes.”

  There was a question in her gaze.

  “I’ve never killed anyone.”

  The bus they were trailing was in sight.

  “But you would, wouldn’t you, if you thought you had to?”

  He didn’t honestly know the answer to that question. “Yes.”

  He passed the bus. The windows were tinted and he couldn’t see who was riding in the passenger seats, but it didn’t much matter. Whoever got on had to get off.

  And he had Sara with him. Proof that he’d been telling the truth the day before when he’d told Nicole that he knew her. She’d think he was trying to keep Nicole safe from her abusive husband.

  “You’re convinced that Nicole is dangerous and would kill you—or me. If she made a move, you’d pull that gun and shoot her.”

  “You’re borrowing trouble.” And he wanted another peanut-butter sandwich. It was the only thing of hers he could consume.

  They were getting close to their stop. The job should be done within the hour.

  “I need something from you.”

  He needed something from her, too. And didn’t want to. Life was already complicated. He didn’t need to make it worse. Especially since she didn’t seem too keen on the idea. Not that he blamed her. He’d lied to her. Fooled her.

  He shot her a raised eyebrow.

  “If Nicole is on that bus, I know I can convince her to come with me willingly. But I need you to promise me that you’ll turn her over to the Santa Raquel police.”

  “My warrant was issued in LA. My job is to deliver.”

  “I’d think as long as she was in custody, her transport would be a given.”

  He could do what she was asking. Technically. He’d just always made it his policy to deliver in person.

  “Fine. We go to the Santa Raquel police first. But if I find out when I get there that in order for me to complete my job I have to deliver her to LA, I’m taking her there.” He got one of “those” looks from her. The kind that warmed him in intimate places.

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded. Felt like smiling. In the middle of a chase.

  What in the hell was the matter with him?

  * * *

  SARA EXITED THE SUV before it was even in Park. She wanted to be completely separate and apart from Michael when the bus pulled in. She urgently glanced around for the best escape route—a way she could get Nicole away without Michael catching up to them.

  The bus was at least two minutes behind them. Turning her back to the parking lot, she leaned against a post. Michael could see the back of her head, part of one shoulder and maybe her legs. He wouldn’t be able to tell that she was texting.

  Think I might have her in less than five. Southern Stop One. Mariposa Route.

  She sent the message off to Lila. Clamped down on the sudden rush of guilt for betraying Michael, and chose the public ladies’ room a few steps from the bus stop as her destination as soon as she had Nicole.

  She wouldn’t put it past Michael to follow them in there. But he’d give them a minute or two first. Just in case one of them was actually doing business in there.

  And she had no reason to feel guilty. As soon as he knew the truth, saw that he�
��d been duped by a powerful organization with fingers in the LA Police Department, he’d forgive her.

  Not that she needed his forgiveness. She and Michael might be experiencing a mutual...thing—okay, they were experiencing it—but, even his ability to lie so smoothly aside, it could go nowhere. Not with a child involved.

  Her phone vibrated with a text. Positioning herself so that Michael couldn’t see what she was doing, she got Lila’s three-word confirmation. On his way.

  So she and Nicole wouldn’t have long to wait. She’d figure out their next move once they got in the restroom.

  They were still a good eight miles from Santa Raquel. Sanchez or one of his fellow officers could make that in less than five minutes. If they hurried.

  Michael had been lying to her from the beginning, and she hadn’t been able to tell. He could have been lying when he’d told her he’d take Nicole to the Santa Raquel police. He was on a job. A mission. He thought Nicole was dangerous and that Sara didn’t know the danger she was in...

  Spinning around, she moved closer to the bus stop. She had to be almost at the door when it pulled in. Nicole would see her as she was coming down the steps. Sara would signal her. They’d make it to the bathroom in less than ten seconds.

  A couple of kids ran past, banging into her. Others strolled past on the sidewalk. An older gentleman with a soup can sat on the shaded bench next to the bus stop sign.

  If Nicole didn’t come down the steps, Sara would wait until everyone had disembarked and then climb up to meet Nicole on the bus. That option would necessitate rethinking their escape route, though.

  It wasn’t that hot out yet. Maybe seventy-five degrees. Sweat dripped down her back and in between her breasts.

  And then it hit her. They’d stay on the bus. Ride it to the next stop. Text Lila. And have Sanchez meet them when they got off. She wouldn’t have to worry about any action-thriller-movie maneuvers. She was letting Michael get to her. Making this whole thing much more difficult than it needed to be.

  She heard the diesel engine coming down the road before she actually caught sight of the bus. She moved into place. Got ready.

  Michael was going to hate her.

  But he couldn’t blame her for deceiving him. He’d deceived her, too. Their whole relationship was based on lies.

  Unhealthy.

  She needed it—him—out of her life.

  Such a shame.

  She’d get over it.

  She’d only known him a day. Which seemed like a month.

  One day.

  She’d forget him.

  Eventually.

  Shaking her head, Sara scanned the windows visible to her as the bus pulled in. Didn’t see Nicole. But hadn’t really expected to. The woman wouldn’t be sitting upright by a window. She knew she was being hunted.

  The engine spit air as it stopped. The door squeaked open. A young girl got off, a boy her same age climbing down behind her. They held hands. A mother with a toddler followed. And then a thirtysomething man with a briefcase.

  Watching them one by one, Sara sent up a small prayer that Sanchez was almost there.

  She shifted her weight from foot to foot, her hands twisting back and forth against each other. She was gritting her teeth and straining to see in the darkened interior of the bus.

  She wished she and Michael were on the same side. That he really had her back.

  The line of people exiting the bus came to an end. The old man with the cane climbed up. The driver reached for the big metal handle to close the door.

  “Wait!”

  Sara spoke sharply. Quickly boarded the bus. Scanned for Nicole. And when she didn’t see her face, she strode down the aisle, checking every seat. And the floor beneath each seat.

  “You’ll have to take a seat, ma’am.” The driver’s voice crackled over an old intercom system. He was looking at her in his oversize rearview mirror. Most of the other passengers were staring at her, too. Some with curiosity. Others with boredom. A few with annoyance. She was holding them up.

  Sara walked the length of the bus and then rushed back to the front. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m feeling sick. I have to get off.”

  Nicole wasn’t there.

  And she didn’t want Michael taking off without her.

  She still needed him.

  They weren’t done yet.

  * * *

  THEY SPENT THE rest of the morning back in Mariposa. Simon swore to Sara and Michael that he’d seen Nicole get on that bus. Michael didn’t believe him. Sara seemed to.

  Then the old lady offered to give Sara her twenty bucks back since their tip hadn’t turned out to be correct, and he’d had to reassess the situation.

  About the truth of the information they’d been given.

  Sara shook her head, telling the woman she could keep the money. She’d tried. Done her best. And Sara was grateful.

  Michael wanted to be surprised, to find some flaw in Sara that would put a clamp on his fascination with her, but he wasn’t surprised.

  He might not have known her long, but it was clear to Michael that the woman really was out to help people.

  Nicole included.

  Still didn’t mean she wasn’t delusional where the jumper was concerned. Just meant that, more than ever, Michael had to keep her in his sights. She was too trusting.

  And was going to get hurt.

  Obviously Nicole had appeared to climb on the Mariposa bus that morning. But she’d either slipped back off again or slipped out of the boarding queue without Simon noticing.

  Michael drove every single street in that town. Knocked on a bunch of doors. Gave in to Sara’s idea that she take one side of the street and he take the other. They talked to shop workers. Store owners. Beachcombers and restaurant employees.

  At a diner on the edge of town, just before noon, they had a hit.

  “Yeah, I seen her,” a fortyish, gray-haired waitress told them. “I went out back to smoke a cigarette on my break and had to use the can. She was in there. Washing her face. I did my business and left, but I was out there fifteen minutes and she never came out.”

  Sara darted toward the back of the restaurant and, after offering a hurried thanks, Michael followed right on her heels.

  The dented metal door to the ladies’ room didn’t close all the way. Sara pushed inside while Michael hesitated on the threshold, holding the door open with one arm.

  He watched as she checked all three stalls inside. Bending down to look underneath one that bore an Out of Order sign and was locked.

  She couldn’t possibly have stuck her ass in his line of vision on purpose, but the effect it had on him wasn’t choosy about her reason for doing so. He liked women’s butts as much as the next guy. He’d just never been prone to noticing them to the point of distraction.

  “She’s not here.”

  Obviously no one else was, either. Letting the door close behind him, Michael inspected all three stalls for himself. And when he turned to exit out of the one on the far wall, he bumped into Sara, who’d been looking in the second one.

  His arm brushed her breast.

  He heard her sharp intake of breath. Looked at her. Eyes wide, she was looking right back at him.

  “There’s no sign of her,” Sara said.

  “Nothing that she dropped or left behind,” he agreed.

  A boyhood fantasy left long ago in the past shot right back to life. Him in a women’s restroom. A beautiful woman wanting him. Them doing it right there...

  “Let’s go,” he said, needing to get out of there before he embarrassed himself. He yanked open the door and strode into the sunlight, then reached back a hand to hold the door for her.

  She’d made it clear that whether she was attracted to him or not, she didn�
�t want things to go any further between them.

  His job was to respect that. In truth, he wanted that. Once he was home again, with Mari, the feelings he had for Sara—feelings that had come on like a lightning bolt—would dissipate.

  But damn, for a second there, he’d sure felt good.

  * * *

  “HEY!” SARA WAS a half step behind Michael on the way back to his SUV when she heard the waitress call out to them. She and Michael turned in unison, almost colliding a second time.

  “I was just talking to my boss, telling him why I took time out to talk to you when it’s lunchtime and we got customers waiting...”

  “We’ll talk to him if you like,” Sara said, stepping forward.

  “Nah, that’s okay. He’s nosy, not mad. Anyway, he tells me that he saw that woman. She caught a ride with some trucker heading south. He saw her talking to the guy when he left. He’d just paid so Clint, my boss, was still standing at the register and saw them. He was going to tell the lady no panhandling here, but then the trucker nods and she goes and climbs up into his rig with him.” The waitress shook her head. “You gotta wonder sometimes. In today’s world, what woman doesn’t know better than to get in a truck with a strange man—”

  “They were heading south?” Michael interrupted this time. With a little less patience.

  “Yeah, that’s what Clint says. He watched the truck drive onto the ramp and it’s right there, so...I don’t know maybe your lady was desperate or something, eh?”

  Michael got a description of the truck. And the driver. “Well, thank Clint for us,” Sara said, backing away. “And thank you, too. You’ve been a big help.”

  Michael was already at the SUV.

  “I hope your friend is okay...” The woman lingered. Clearly wanting to know more.

  Nodding and sending her one last grateful smile, Sara climbed into the front passenger seat of the SUV just as Michael was putting the vehicle into gear.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE WOMAN WAS too much of a distraction. Michael’s tracking skills were infallible and here he was, almost through his third day on the chase with nothing but a few “too lates” to show for himself. There was no evidence that Nicole Kramer had done any harm in the past few days, but she was a walking time bomb.