by Rita Herron
He might even want revenge against her for having him arrested.
She rushed back to her bedroom, grabbed her bags, and hauled them to her car. A minute later, she hurried back inside, then glanced at her shoe collection and felt a stab of remorse that she had to leave her stilettos and Jimmy Choos behind.
She hadn’t packed her sexy lingerie either although she had thrown in those red thongs.
Well, it was Christmas and even if no one saw them, she could fantasize about wearing them for Reid on Christmas day.
Tears clogged her throat, but she swallowed back a sob. No use blubbering like a baby.
She didn’t have time to cry or dwell on what she was missing or the fact that the people she loved might not even miss her.
They would miss her, wouldn’t they?
Outside, dark clouds gathered, indicating a storm on the way, so she ran back in the apartment for her purse. But the picture of her and Reid at Sophie’s wedding mocked her from the end table, and she snatched it up.
Panicked at the idea that Emmet might find her apartment, break in and scour through her things for clues to find her, she made a mad dash through every room, gathering all her personal photos, address book, mail, her ipad, and the newspaper article featuring Reid and Lance’s business and the housing development on Skidaway Island they’d just finished.
She stuffed them all in a tote bag and carried them to her car. She couldn’t leave a trail behind for Emmet to follow.
Thunder rumbled as she drove to the square to meet Wallace Bannister, the federal marshal. He was near fifty and had been as close to a father figure as she’d ever had, giving her a shoulder to cry on during the entire Emmet ordeal.
She parked, then followed the sidewalk. Wallace was sitting on a park bench with a newspaper in his lap sipping a cup of coffee, looking very much the casual tourist in his jeans, polo shirt and lightweight jacket. He rubbed a finger across his mustache as she drew near, their signal that it was clear to talk, so she slid onto the bench beside him.
She felt like some spy in a low budget movie that she didn’t want to star in.
“Any word on Emmet?” she asked, hoping by some miraculous means the police had caught him and she could keep her holiday plans.
“Afraid not,” Wallace said. “But we will get him, Lucy. I promise.”
Lucy nodded. She’d been down this road before. There was no telling how long it might take. “So, what’s the plan?”
Wallace scanned the area as a young couple pushing a stroller passed. Another man, maybe thirties, wearing a suit paused to smile at Lucy.
She averted her gaze, her nerves spiking. What if Emmet had hired a private investigator to find her? He might have already tracked her down.
She had to get out of town fast.
Wallace waited until the suited man disappeared into the café across the street, then slipped a Manila envelope from inside his jacket. “There’s a new ID in here, some cash and a credit card in your new name, along with directions to the place you’ll be staying.”
Lucy removed the ID and glanced at it. Taylor Overby. Not a bad name. She would have chosen something like Jasmine, but then again that might sound like a stage name and Wallace was careful about his selection. Actually she was surprised he hadn’t chosen Smith or Jones.
“Your new wheels are waiting at the Savannah Airport. A beige Buick.”
Lucy raised a brow.
“It’s about as nondescript as we could find on short notice.”
“And absolutely a car I’d never drive,” Lucy said, thinking about her lipstick red convertible bug. Now that was a car.
“The parking stub shows where it’s parked in the long-term lot,” Wallace continued. “Leave your car there and take the new one. The space has been paid up for two weeks, but I’ll make sure it’s updated if we need it.”
Two weeks and Christmas would be over.
“The other key is for your condo.”
Was he sending her to Alaska or some Podunk little town in the desert? “Where is it?” Lucy asked.
“The Sunset Vista. It’s in Delray Beach.”
Wasn’t that the place Deseree’s friend had put her mama in to die? “You’re sending me to a nursing care facility?”
“It’s not a nursing home, it’s a sixties-and-up community.” A grin tugged at the corners of Wallace’s mouth. “I figured it would be the last place Emmet would look for you.”
Lucy shrugged. That was true. It was also the last place she wanted to be during the holidays.
But she would do whatever she had to do until crazy Emmet was caught.
She just hoped that Reid didn’t forget her while she was gone.
Reid could not forget the doe-like look on Lucy’s face when he’d driven away. Or the curtness in her tone when she’d asked him to leave.
Dammit. He had never allowed a woman to get into his head until her. But Lucy had a way of sneaking up on a man like a cold. Once you caught it, it invaded every pore of your body and left your knees wobbly.
Well, maybe she wasn’t exactly like a cold…but she definitely made his head foggy and his knees weak.
At a loss as to what to do now that his plans with Lucy had been nixed, he phoned Lance.
The phone rang a half dozen times before his brother finally picked up. “What?”
“How about a game of golf?” He needed to hit something today.
“Since when do you play golf, Reid?”
Lance had a point. “Since I…don’t know. I just thought it was a nice day and wanted to be outside.”
“Sorry, bro, Sophie and I have plans.”
Irrational jealousy hit Reid. Ever since Lance and Chase had gotten hitched, they never wanted to do anything manly. “What? You gonna be Sophie’s purse holder while she shops?”
Lance chuckled. “No. We’re looking for a Christmas tree.”
Exactly what he’d wanted to do with Lucy.
“I thought you and Lucy were keeping each other busy,” Lance said.
Reid grunted. “She’s flying to L.A. for an audition.”
“Really? Well, good for her.”
“Yeah, good for her.” And bad for him.
“Sophie’s calling,” Lance said. “We’ll catch up at the building site tomorrow.”
Reid grunted again, then hung up. Was he going to be whipped like that? Every time Lucy called, he’d run? Hell, Lance practically held Sophie’s hand while she peed.
No way. He should view Lucy’s trip as a sign that they were on the same page. Have fun, sleep together, but keep their own lives. That was what he wanted.
Wasn’t it?
Hell, yeah, it was.
Feeling better, he phoned Chase. Chase might go to a sports bar with him.
“How about we hit the Tavern and watch the game today?” Reid asked.
“Sorry, man, but Maddie and I are buying baby furniture this afternoon. She’s already picked out a crib and a baby swing and a bunch of other stuff.” Chase lowered his voice. “Oh, and she needs nursing pads and a breast pump. What the hell is that?”
Yikes. He didn’t want to know what it was. “I don’t know but it sounds painful.”
“I know. I hope it’s not something I have to help her with,” Chase muttered.
Geesh. “TMI, Chase. You’re talking about my sister.”
“Sorry.”
This baby wasn’t even here, and it was consuming Chase’s life. Soon he’d be talking about spit up and green poop instead of remodeling cars and building houses.
“Well, have fun,” Reid said sarcastically.
Chase gave a man grunt. “I know you don’t get it now, but you will one day, man.”
No way he’d ever go shopping for a breast pump.
Reid said goodbye, then decided to take a run. Maybe he could purge his anxiety with a little sweat.
At least exercise was a masculine activity. And it would keep him in shape. And keep his mind off of the fact that Lucy hadn’t invite
d him to accompany her.
Why would she?
She was going to be hobnobbing with the rich and famous, sipping martinis with male actors who spent more on their hair and clothes than Reid made in a year. She’d become famous and marry some sophisticated L.A. guy who would douse her with riches and diamonds. They’d jet set from country to country, and she’d have her own valet and massage therapist. And one day they’d name a fragrance after her because she smelled so damned erotic that he wanted to drown himself in her scent.
And the only time he’d be able to see her was on the television or big screen where she’d be making out with another man.
Lucy pocketed the new cell phone Wallace gave her along with her ID and the address for the Sunset Vista and hurried to her car. Christmas decorations adorned the town square and River Street, garland dangling in the breeze from storefronts as she left the downtown area and headed to the airport.
It didn’t take her long to find the Buick once she arrived – it stood out like a big beige blob – and would probably fit right into the sixties-and-up scene where she’d be staying.
The wind picked up, swirling leaves around her as she dragged her suitcase from her bug to the Buick.
When she opened the trunk, a nervous giggle escaped her. You could fit at least five bodies in that honker. In fact, her suitcase and cosmetic bag looked pitiful, lost, as if she should go back and pack more.
A few of her strappy sandals and those gorgeous black pumps…
No, you need to get out of town, Lucy. Emmet might be staking out your apartment now.
She quickly exchanged vehicles, loading up her clothes and photos. She had never been to Delray Beach, but she’d heard it was a nice little town right on the beach and intracoastal waterway with tons of shopping and restaurants.
Of course, she wouldn’t enjoy any of that because she’d be looking over her shoulder for Emmet.
The first raindrops splattered the windshield as she pulled from the parking lot. Wallace knew she was disastrous at directions, so thankfully he’d managed to find her a car with a built-in GPS. The moment she started the engine, the address and directions for Delray popped on the screen.
“Turn right from the parking lot,” the voice control said.
Lucy patted the dash. If this faceless voice was going to be her only company for the next few hundred miles, she might as well give her a name. “Got you, Jenny Lou.”
Jenny Lou didn’t respond so she sped down the highway, chatting to her as she drove. By the time she passed into Florida, she was missing Reid terribly and imagining Emmet rolling around naked in the sheets where she and Reid had made love.
He was just sick enough to do that.
“I don’t know what to do about Reid, Jenny Lou. What if he never wants to get married?”
Jenny Lou was a good listener, but she had zilch advice in the romance department.
Her cell phone buzzed and she checked the number. Reid.
She groaned. She needed to hear his voice. To know that some other woman wasn’t raking her hands over those iron-taut abs.
She wanted to explain why she’d run him off this morning like she had a bee up her butt.
But she forced her hand to remain on the steering wheel. If she confessed the truth, Reid would insist on coming along to protect her and that would be dangerous.
Besides, if Emmet somehow discovered that she and Reid were involved, and tried to force him to reveal her location, Reid couldn’t tell him if he didn’t know.
It was better he believe she was on an audition, instead of running from a nut who liked to smell her underwear and thought she was the reincarnation of his dead wife.
Emmet bypassed Lucy’s apartment then parked the car he’d stolen down the street. He had to be careful. Didn’t want to attract unwanted attention.
Not since he was an escaped con.
Damn Lucy for putting him in this position.
His fingers tingled as he imagined finally being able to touch her again.
Had she thought about him the last few months?
Maybe she’d realized that he hadn’t been stalking her, that he loved her like no other man could. That they were made for each other, just like she’d told him in her first life.
His eye twitched, a rash exploding across his neck as he pulled himself from the driver’s side and walked down the street. He forced himself not to claw at the red bumps. He wanted to look his best when Lucy saw him.
Was she home now? Did she know he was out of prison?
A black sedan parked across the street caught his eye, and he tugged the ball cap he’d worn as a disguise lower over his head. What if the police were watching, waiting to trap him?
He scanned the street again. Yep, someone was in that black sedan.
He rubbed at his neck, darted between two houses, then cut between their back yards. A red wagon and tricycle suggested children inhabited the house, but the lights were off, indicating the family wasn’t home.
He suddenly imagined having a child with Lucy and excitement zinged through him. Yes, as soon as they were together again, he’d suggest they start making a baby, a little Emmet, Jr. Or a lovely little Lucy girl with red curls.
Ducking low, he crept along the red-tips and crossed the next yard until he reached Lucy’s. He hid behind a potted plant, watching, waiting, checking to make sure some idiot cop wasn’t lying in wait like a rabid animal ready to pounce.
Speaking of dogs, a little mutant throwback dog with wiry hair barked, then raced down the deck steps of the neighbor’s house and ran toward him.
Panicked, Emmet jogged toward Lucy’s back porch, jumped over a lounge chair and dove toward the door. He wiggled the doorknob, but the door was locked.
The dog’s yappy bark echoed closer, and Emmet fumbled and dropped his lock-picking device.
He quickly retrieved it, sweating as he picked the lock.
But just as he thought he was home free, the damned dog leaped at him and sank his teeth into Emmet’s ass.
Chapter Three
Lucy made it to the Sunset Vista with only a few minor complications. She and Jenny Lou had bickered a few times. Really, couldn’t they have designed the woman to carry on a conversation instead of just drone out directions?
At least Jenny Lou hadn’t failed her when Lucy took a wrong turn and nearly wound up headed to Tampa instead of Delray. Then she’d had a flat tire in the rain, but a sweet little teenage boy and his buddy with the alligator tattoo had stopped to help her, although judging from their eyes and the way they giggled as they dropped the lug nuts in the mud, they were high on weed. When she’d offered to pay them, they’d said it had been worth it.
Then she’d noticed her white t-shirt plastered to her chest and realized she looked like a contestant in a wet t-shirt contest.
Thankfully she’d left the rain behind at the state line, and after she’d gotten on the Florida Parkway, she’d stopped to pee and get something to eat. But the only thing left in the station was a rubbery piece of pizza that had looked questionable and tasted like cardboard.
It wasn’t sitting too pretty in her stomach either.
Swallowing back the queasy feeling, she parked in front of the lobby/main office and hitched herself out. The Sunset Vista was a group of condos set on the intracoastal waterway with pink flamingos wearing Santa hats decorating the neatly kept lawn.
A white-haired man in a pale blue suit approached her with a twinkle in his eye when she entered. “Can I help you, Miss?”
Lucy nodded. “My name is L…Taylor Overby.”
“Yes, yes,” the man said. “I’m A.J. Moon, but folks call me Moon. We’re so excited you came! We’ve wanted a social coordinator for a long time.”
A social coordinator? She’d assumed she’d be doing some office work, filing, answering the phone. “You have?”
Moon winked at her. “Yes, we’re seniors, not dead, honey. We like to kick up our heels and have fun.”
She s
pied his walker and bit her tongue.
“I was a dancer in my time,” he said with a grin. “I can still cut a rug with my cane.”
Lucy laughed in spite of herself, then hooked her arm though his as he gave her the tour.
“This is the office and the mail room where residents pick up packages,” he said, using his cane as a pointing stick.
“You’re probably swamped with Christmas gifts and cards right now,” Lucy said.
Moon’s face fell slightly. “Some people get mail, but there are others whose families are just too busy for them.”
Lucy’s chest ached. “Well, we’ll have to fix that. Maybe we can draw names and exchange Secret Santa gifts.”
“That’s a great idea.” Moon squeezed her arm. “I think we’re going to like having you around.”
He led her to a larger room that resembled a sports bar with a giant flat screen TV and cozy seating nooks. A few men had gathered to drink beer and watch the football game.
“We meet here for ball games, movies, Bridge tournaments, Bingo, craft club and other events,” Moon said.
A small woman with silver hair sat nursing a cup of coffee as she hovered over the newspaper in the corner.
“That’s Mae,” Moon said. “She reads the obits every day hunting for a husband. Soon as a man’s wife passes, she bakes him a pie.” He smiled. “The minute you smell blueberries around here, you know someone bit the dust.”
Lucy bit back another laugh as he introduced her.
Mae clapped her hands, her eyes lighting up. “Can we start a Zumba class? And how about yoga?”
“Sure. We can do both.” She could use her dance moves and stay in shape while she was here.
In Vegas, they planned a special Christmas show every year, too. “Maybe we can put on a talent show for Christmas Eve.”
“Oh, my gosh, that sounds like fun.” Mae gathered her paper and coffee cup. “I’m going to tell some of the others right now!”
She waved and ran off, then Moon showed her the workout room and pool which had been built on a massive deck that overlooked the inlet. A couple of women were sipping drinks as they watched the sunset while another couple huddled together on a lounge chair, their hands entwined.
