Fugitive

by Shirlee McCoy

  “Good.” He grinned and settled back into his seat.

  Two hours later she was still irritated and Stan was asleep, snoring softly, his lined face pale. Unanimated, he looked older, and she almost reached out to touch his wrist to check his pulse to make sure it was still beating strong and hard.

  Her stomach ached with hunger and her head pounded with fatigue. Worry seemed to be gnawing a hole in her gut, and Seth just kept driving, his expression unreadable.

  “Are we going to the safe house or crossing the country?” She broke the silence because she couldn’t take one more second of it.

  “Safe house. We’re almost there. I just wanted to make sure we weren’t followed.”

  “I think that you could have known that an hour and a half ago.”

  “Don’t be so impatient, Laney. It could get you killed.”

  His words shivered through her as he pulled up in front of the little rancher. The garage door opened, and he pulled in. “Wake up, Pops, or we’ll leave you out here sleeping.”

  Stan stirred, his dove-gray eyes opening. “Who says I was asleep, rookie? It might have been a ruse to see what the two of you had to say about me when you thought I wasn’t listening.”

  “You were snoring,” Seth responded dryly.

  The two men seemed content to snap at one another. Laney only wanted one thing—for Logan and Taryn to show up.

  “Do you think they made it out of the building?” She followed Seth into the house, and he nodded.

  “I would have gotten a call from Darius if they’d been taken into custody.”

  “Maybe he hasn’t had a chance to call.”

  “You worry a lot, Laney. You need to stop.” He pulled the curtains across the front window. “I’m going to see what there is to eat. Don’t know about the two of you, but I’m starving.”

  “How can you eat when—” The front doorknob rattled, and Laney froze, her blood cold and her muscles taut.

  “Go into your bedroom and lock the door.”

  “What—”

  “Go!” Seth shouted, his word reverberating through the house, through her, filling her with terror and spurring her into action.

  She raced down the hall, slammed the door and locked it.

  EIGHTEEN

  She needed a weapon.

  Just in case.

  Seth might be tough and aggressive, but he was still just a man. A gun could take him down easily if the shooter had the opportunity. Once whoever was outside managed to get past him, Laney would be on her own because she didn’t think Stan had it in him to protect either of them.

  He’d try, though.

  She knew he would.

  Thinking about it made her chest tight.

  She’d have to protect them both.

  She’d find a weapon, climb out the window, reenter through the front door and come at the intruder from behind.

  She spun around, frantic to find something she could use against an attacker. Aside from the pillows and a few books, there wasn’t much in the room. She opened one of the dresser drawers and clawed through Taryn’s clothes, feeling only slightly guilty. Nothing there. Nothing under the beds or under the mattresses. Didn’t bodyguards keep extra weapons around?

  Something creaked outside the door, the old wood floor giving way beneath heavy feet. Seth? Stan?

  She didn’t dare call out. She barely dared to breathe as she moved to the door and pressed her ear to the cool wood.

  Nothing.

  Not even a whispered word.

  Another creak, and she froze, her blood running cold. If things were fine, Seth would be knocking already, giving her the all clear or grumbling for her to come out. She yanked the pillow from the bed, her palms sweaty with fear. She didn’t know what she planned to do with it, but having it clutched close to her stomach felt better than having nothing.

  The doorknob turned, and she backed toward the window, imagining a million scenarios, none of them ending well.

  Were Stan and Seth both dead, their murderer on the other side of the door?

  Could she climb out the window and leave without being noticed?

  Could she abandon them if they were still alive and in danger?

  She couldn’t.

  No way.

  Ever.

  She’d have to go around front.

  She unlocked the window and eased it open a crack.

  “Laney?” Logan called.

  “Logan!” Her legs went weak with relief, but she managed to cross the room and yank the door open.

  He stood on the other side of it, all lean, hard muscle and searing blue eyes. She wanted to step into his arms, burrow her head against his chest and tell him how terrified she’d been. She wanted to smooth his thick hair and feel the rough bristles of his five o’clock shadow beneath her palm.

  She wanted all those things so much it almost hurt, and she fisted her hands and stepped back.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.”

  “So Seth said.” He followed her across the room, settling onto the bed and pulling her down beside him. Leg to leg, arm to arm, shoulder to shoulder just the way they’d been so many times when they were kids.

  Only they weren’t kids anymore, and fire seemed to ignite everywhere they touched.

  “Seth said something? He’s barely spoken a dozen words to me and Stan since we left you guys.”

  “I guess he was saving up.” He looked into her eyes. Really looked. Her pulse picked up speed as her body hummed with need.

  She wanted so badly to throw herself into his arms. She wanted it more than she’d ever wanted just about anything.

  She wrapped her arms around her waist, keeping them occupied while she tried to look anywhere but his face. “We saw the police back at the office building. I was worried that you and Taryn ran into them.”

  “Seth’s stunt gave us just enough time to slip out the back. We walked a couple of miles and phoned a friend. He brought us a new ride.”

  “What’s next?”

  “We have some information to go through, and then I’m going back to Green Bluff. Christopher Banks and I are due to have a little meeting. Tonight will be as good a time as any for it.”

  “You can’t go back there. It’s way too dangerous.”

  “I have to, Laney.”

  “So that you can find the evidence that will prove your innocence to a bunch of people who don’t matter?”

  “They do matter. Green Bluff is my family. The only family I’ve had since Amanda passed away. It’s my home. It’s the place I’ve dreamed about every night since I was thrown into jail.”

  “It’s also the place where everyone knows you. It’s the place where you’ve been judged and found guilty of something you didn’t do.”

  “I’m going back.”

  “Why not just walk into the sheriff’s department and turn yourself in, then?” She jumped up, pacing across the room, her irritation and worry making her desperate for movement and action.

  “I may. After I talk to Banks.”

  “What are you talking about?” She made the mistake of looking straight into his eyes and felt her protest falling away, the world falling away.

  This was the Logan of her childhood, but so much more than that, and she couldn’t resist him. She could not seem to make herself look away.

  “My friend spoke to the police this morning. The officer who survived the ambush refused to implicate me. Based on his testimony, the case against me may be reopened.”

  “The police could be lying to throw you off your guard.”

  “Do you really think that would work?” he answered, his tone as gentle as the fingers he trailed across her bruised cheek. “You need to put some mo
re ice on this. Bring the swelling down a little.”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “Maybe. I am, but I’m going back to Green Bluff, and I’m not taking you with me. Arguing about it won’t change a thing.”

  “Not taking me with you? Did you really think you could slip that little piece of information in there without me noticing?”

  “I had to give it a shot.” He smiled, flashing his dimple.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “You’re right. It’s not, but the plans are made, and they’re not going to change. You may as well just accept that.”

  “Accept that you and your buddies have made a decision about my life without even consulting me? I don’t think so, Logan. I got pulled into the trouble we’re in, but that doesn’t make me any less of a part of it than the rest of you. I should have an equal say in how we handle things.”

  She had a point, and Logan knew it.

  He just didn’t like it.

  “Laney, you’re here. You’re safe. I want it to stay that way.”

  “What about what I want? Maybe Green Bluff is exactly where I want to be. When you’re gone, maybe I’ll head right back there. There won’t be anyone to stop me. Taryn and Seth were contracted to protect you. They’re going to be wherever you are. If you leave Stan with me, he’ll be happy to find me a ride to Green Bluff. I can go back to the house my father left me. Get back to my life.”

  “And get yourself killed to prove a point?”

  “This isn’t about proving a point. This is about...” Her voice broke, and she looked away.

  “What?” He cupped her shoulders, his gut clenching the way it did every time they touched.

  A problem.

  A big one, and he didn’t know if he cared enough to solve it. He’d spent years mourning Amanda’s death. Years telling himself that he’d never fail someone the way he’d failed her. Three years, and he’d never wavered from the course he’d set. Then he’d stumbled back into Laney’s life, and all he could think about was how much he’d missed being part of it.

  “It’s about you, Logan. It’s about how I’d feel if anything happened to you. It’s about wanting to help you because we’re friends.” She looked away again, and he knew what she hadn’t said, felt the response deep in his soul.

  “Just friends?” He smoothed his hand down her arms and up again, watching as her eyes dilated and her lips parted slightly. He remembered how it felt to kiss those lips. He couldn’t forget the feelings that had surged through him at the contact. It had been such a stupid mistake, kissing her to avoid detection, but he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it.

  “We were always more than that, weren’t we? We were like family. Two parts of the same whole.” She turned away, crossing the room and then spinning back to face him. “That scares me, Logan. If we’re going to get right down to the heart of the matter, that’s it. Everything about you is too much, and when I’m near you, I feel filled up with it. It’s like I can’t separate my emotions from you.”

  “Why would you want to?”

  “Because I’ve been hurt a million times before. You, more than anyone else, know that. I don’t want to be hurt again.”

  “Who says you will be?”

  “Me. Life. Maybe even God.”

  “That’s a pessimist’s view.”

  “Is it pessimistic when you’re speaking from past experience?”

  “The past doesn’t dictate the present or the future,” he responded—and felt like a hypocrite.

  “Right now it does. You can’t go back to Green Bluff. Not if you want to keep your freedom.”

  “Keep it for what, Laney? My life is back there. Everything I’ve accomplished since your parents dragged me from the group home was accomplished there. Without it—”

  “You’re still you. You can make another life somewhere else.”

  “And every minute that I live of it will be a lie. That’s not the way I want things to go down.”

  “I don’t either, but I’d rather know you were alive somewhere living a lie than know you were dead. If you go to jail, that’s what’s going to happen, Logan. We both know it.”

  “I’m not going to keep running. Not forever. Not even for much longer. The police seem convinced that the ambush was a veiled attempt at kidnapping and murder. They’re looking for suspects, and if they find them, I may be exonerated.”

  “They already have one suspect in custody.” She brushed lint off her faded jeans, her hand shaking a little. He lifted it, studying her long, slender fingers and touching the deep scar on her knuckles.

  Mildred had described it as an accident to the doctor. She and Laney had been cutting oranges together, and Mildred’s knife had slipped. Laney had confirmed the story, but Logan had always wondered if it were the truth. At twelve, she’d been young enough to fear her mother and naive enough to believe that things would get better if she just tried harder and prayed enough.

  “I have to do this, Laney. I know it scares you, but it’s the way it has to be. I’m going to meet with Banks, and then I’m going to the sheriff’s office.”

  “I want to go with you.”

  “We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

  “You mean when I wake up in the morning and you’re gone, and the phone rings and it’s you explaining that you left during the night?”

  “I was kind of hoping that it would work out that way,” he responded, and she cracked a smile, her eyes clear forest-green.

  “At least you’re honest.”

  “I try to be. Come on. We have a couple of file folders and a computer memory card to look through before we make the trip to Green Bluff.”

  “We?”

  “Figure of speech.”

  “You know that I’m going. With or without you, right?”

  He thought he did, thought that he’d have to tie her down to keep her from trying to help him.

  “I wish you’d listen to reason, but I have a feeling you won’t.” He sighed, and she touched his cheek and smiled into his eyes. She took his breath away with that simple gesture.

  Her smile faltered, her hand falling from his cheek to his chest. He wasn’t sure if she were trying to push him away or pull him closer.

  “Logan...”

  “You’re beautiful, Laney. You know that?” He fingered a loose curl, let the silken strand slide between his fingers.

  She was his old friend, and he thought that she might become so much more than that. If he let her.

  The past can’t dictate the present or the future. That’s what he’d told her, but he seemed to be grasping the past with both hands, holding on tight, using it as an excuse to stay distanced from the harder things in life. The pain, the sorrow, the loneliness of loss. If he went to jail tomorrow and stayed there for the rest of his life, would he be happy that he’d done that, or would he think that he’d missed out on everything that could have been if he’d only taken a chance?

  He bent toward Laney, wanting one more taste of her lips before he went back to Green Bluff. One more kiss, just in case this moment was the last memory of her that he’d ever have. A quick touch. That’s all he meant it to be, but she sighed, her arms sliding around his waist, her fingers curved into his belt loops, and he couldn’t make himself step away.

  NINETEEN

  She could stay in his arms forever.

  The thought drifted through Laney’s mind, wrapping around her heart in a fog of hunger that stole everything else away. Logic. Reason.

  She pressed closer, wanting to inhale him the way she’d inhale the sweet scent of fresh-baked cookies or the warmth of the sunshine on the first day of spring.

  “Logan! You coming to look at this stuff or not? Because I’m hungry and... Oops! Sorry.” Taryn laughed,
the sound splashing over the fire that seemed to burn in Laney’s chest every time Logan was near.

  She broke away and would have stepped from his arms, but he tightened his hold, his eyes blazing. “This isn’t over.”

  She wasn’t sure if it was a threat or a promise.

  Either way, she was in trouble.

  Because it didn’t scare her.

  She touched her lips, realized what she was doing and let her hand drop away.

  “I think I’m hungry, too,” she said because she could think of nothing else to say. Had nothing else to say.

  One kiss she could explain away.

  Two was more difficult.

  She didn’t even think she wanted to.

  Logan nodded, his hands falling from her waist, his gaze following her as she ran past Taryn. She couldn’t even look at the other woman. She could barely look at Stan as she walked into the kitchen.

  “Where’s Seth?” Laney asked, opening the fridge and hoping the cold air would cool her heated cheeks.

  “I’m in here, staring at a bunch of papers that don’t mean a whole lot and wondering why I’m looking at them alone,” Seth growled from the small dining room that jutted off the back of the kitchen. It was probably an addition. The pale yellow walls and gleaming hardwood floor were the most updated thing in the house.

  It was so much easier to think about that than about Logan.

  About his kiss.

  Their kiss.

  “You feeling okay, kid? You’re awfully flushed. Maybe you’ve got a fever?” Stan pressed a cool palm to her heated cheeks, his gnarled hand calloused and rough from years of hard work.

  “I’m fine. Just hungry.”

  “Good because I’m making some of my famous clam chowder. Minus the clams.” He tossed chopped onion into a stew pot and stirred it with a wooden spoon.

  “It can’t be clam chowder without clams, Pops,” Seth called out.

  “Fish chowder, then, and if you keep interrupting while I’m working, you’re not going to eat any of it.”

  “Work? Cooking fish stew isn’t work. Work is poring over dozens of pages of documents while everyone else goofs off.”