Reading the files might give her some leverage, although she didn’t know with whom. But she was fully aware what a pipe dream that was. She’d tried library computers at a couple of places between buses, but as expected, everything was encrypted and password-protected.
She was terrified that Peter had already tagged her latest bank transaction and his ‘friends’ were on the move. She certainly couldn’t go to the police.
“I’m not concerned,” Peter had said. “We’ve spread enough money around. You know that. There are enough people we’ve paid off everywhere to make them look the other way. Cops, prosecutors, government agents, whatever. It didn’t take us long to learn everyone has a price. It’s all a matter of finding it.”
Shivering as she remembered the words, she stole a glance at the clock on the wall, willing the minute hand to move faster.
Come on! Come on!
Idly she wondered what Albuquerque would be like. Could she fade into obscurity there, or would it just be another place to change buses again? God, if she could just get out of L.A. before the men Peter had sent after her showed up, she was ready to find a hole and go to ground. Someplace to sleep for more than an hour. Take a shower, even eat a real meal. A day. Maybe two. Maybe even a whole week in one place.
Her eyelids drooped and she sagged against the bench. Something plucking at her jerked her awake. An old woman’s claw-like hands were tugging at her duffel. Heart racing, Kate yanked the bag closer to her body.
“What are you doing?” She tried to scoot away from the skinny hag. “Let go.”
“Dear, you’re dropping your bag.”
“Don’t touch my things.” Kate forced herself not to shout.
“Well. Excuse me,” the woman sniffed. “You were falling asleep and your bag was about to drop.”
God, how had she let her eyes close? It seemed like only seconds since she’d sat down. What if this had been Peter pulling at her, or someone he’d sent?
The old woman stared at Kate, her pinched face accusing. “I just didn’t want you to lose it. Next time I won’t bother.”
Kate slid her arms further through the duffel straps and hugged it closer to her body. She was beginning to hate buses and bus terminals. If only she hadn’t had to ditch her car and leave herself without wheels. Instead, here she was, among the great unwashed, piling up frequent rider miles.
“See America First,” she thought glumly.
How many states had she already passed through since that night, getting off one bus, boarding another, not even caring about the destination? How many more would there be on her trip to nowhere before she found someplace safe.
Safe!
She nearly laughed. What a fairy tale that was. Whatever Peter was part of, there didn’t seem to be any place he couldn’t reach out and touch her.
Biting hard on the inside of her cheek to keep herself awake, she watched the minute hand on the wall clock crawl at a snail’s pace. Thirty minutes since she’d purchased her ticket, time inching along like cold molasses. Still fifteen minutes until her bus left.
She felt rather than saw the old lady sneaking curious glances at her every few seconds but she deliberately ignored her. Pulling her cap even lower over her face, she continued scanning the room, always alert for anything out of the ordinary.
So far, so good. Nothing set off alarms in her head. Too many cups of industrial strength coffee eating away at the lining of her stomach were serving to keep her awake.
As she shifted in her seat, her glance was caught by a woman two benches away. The woman sat ramrod straight, clutching a large purse to her side as if it contained buried treasure. Thick chestnut hair was clipped back at her neck. Tailored pants suit, inexpensive but classic. Low heels. Tote bag hooked over one shoulder.
She could have passed for me a month ago.
Not now, of course. One layer at a time she had buried Kathryn Holt. Jeans and a T-shirt replaced the pants suit, short curls tucked into a gimme cap took the place of the long hair that had been her trademark. Dirty tennis shoes and an ugly nylon jacket with coffee stains completed the outfit. Whenever she looked in a mirror, she realized the metamorphosis from Kathryn to Kate was complete.
She hoped—prayed—that Peter would think she didn’t have sense enough to change her appearance. Her name. Anything.
Looking at the clock once more, she thought it impossible that only two minutes had passed since the last time she checked. Her stomach was doing funny things, which she hoped was due to the rotten coffee, and not her newly-developed early warning system.
And then she saw them entering the terminal, two men who could have been clones of the ones in Charlotte. The same deadly air, the same carefully blank faces, the same hunter’s gleam in their eyes as they surveyed the waiting area. Every one of her senses told her she was their quarry. Bile rose in the back of her throat as nausea swept over her, and she swallowed hard against it.
She watched them as they moved through the terminal. They spoke in quiet tones into the cell phones they carried, every few seconds checking the screens.
“See that,” the old lady squeaked to the man next to her, “I’ll bet they’re police, after some criminal.”
When the man ignored her, she turned back to Kate again. “Who do you suppose they’re after?”
Me, she could have said. They’ve got a picture on their cell phone screen and they’re looking for me. She clamped her teeth together to keep from blurting it out. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, accelerating her heartbeat. Her pulse beat a fierce tattoo and a thin trickle of sweat ran down her spine.
Thankfully the picture they had couldn’t bear much resemblance to her now. In Peter’s arrogance he would never consider that she’d have sense enough to change her appearance. Still, who knew what could give her away? She had to get out of here.
Choking back the scream blossoming in her throat, she forced herself to move, rising as casually as possible from the bench. More than anything she wanted to run, but she made herself move slowly, one step at a time.
Miss Pants Suit rose and started toward the rest rooms. Kate saw the men spot her and, keeping their cell phones open, move in her direction.
They think she’s me. God, that poor woman.
As she moved away from the bench, she saw the men come abreast of the unlucky Miss Pants Suit, boxing her in between them. Each of them took one of her elbows. The one on the left leaned over and said something in her ear. Kate saw the woman try to jerk her arm away and open her mouth to scream.
“My wife,” the man said apologetically to the curious crowd. “Given to unpredictable mood swings. Come, sweetheart, you need your medication.”
Kate saw the desperate movements as the woman struggled to free herself. Her head whipping back and forth, she yelled, “Help me” to the people around her. Instead they uncomfortably averted their eyes.
Watching as she slithered toward the exit, Kate saw one man put his mouth to the woman’s ear and say something. The one word she caught, “Kathryn,” chilled her. Then his hand moved, and in seconds Miss Pants Suit was limp in their arms. They moved away with her, the man who’d pretended to be her husband arranging his face in a sad expression.
Kate nearly passed out. For a moment she almost screamed out, “Leave her alone.” She was sick at the thought of what would happen to this woman whose only crime was to look like Kathryn Holt. It wouldn’t take long for them to figure out they’d made a mistake. Maybe once they figured out she was the wrong woman, they’d let her go. She prayed that’s what would happen.
But she had to get out of there. She couldn’t wait any longer for the Albuquerque bus. She needed to get away now.
Anywhere. I don’t care. Just as long as it gets me away from here.
A city bus was idling at the curb, riders jostling each other in their haste to board. Kate pushed her way in front of everyone, fear making her aggressive. Any second she expected to feel a heavy hand on her shoulder, yanking her back
onto the sidewalk.
“Do you mind?” a girl in Goth makeup and spandex spat at her as Kate shoved her way onto the vehicle.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
She dropped coins into the receptacle and made her way to the far corner of the bus, slumping into a seat as her rubbery legs gave out. Peering out from under the gimme cap, she watched to see if the men had realized their mistake yet and come looking for her. She held her breath, waiting for them to rush out to the sidewalk. When no one appeared, she released the pent-up breath with a whoosh. Good. Still occupied with Miss Pants Suit. She was safe for the moment.
Her heart still thundered like a jet, and she gripped her duffel hard to control the shaking in her hands. They didn’t just want to kill her. That would come later. They were after the drive. The damned flash drive. If they got their hands on it she was history.
The bus rumbled along, pulling up at a stop to let passengers off. Through the window, Kate caught the sign for Highway Harry’s Used Car Lot—”Try ‘em and Buy ‘em.” Okay. Time to change transportation again. She hopped off the bus before the doors closed, shifted her duffel to a more comfortable position, and strode into Highway Harry’s.
“She don’t look like much,” the oily salesman told her, patting the hood of an aging sedan, “but she’ll get you where you want to go.”
Yeah, right. As long as I don’t want to go too far.
“If you say so.”
At least at Harry’s they didn’t ask for any identification, and Harry was eager enough to take her cash.
“You might want to check the oil after a little while,” he said, handing over the pink slip and the keys. “We gave her a good tune-up but you know how these old babies are.”
I’ll just drive it until it falls apart and find something else. Just let it get me out of here.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Did he even notice the sarcasm in her voice? “I probably won’t keep it that long, anyway.”
“Well. She’s all yours now.”
In thirty minutes she was on IH 10 heading west out of L.A. But to where?
Chapter Four
Texas
“Damn!”
Kate slammed the hood of her car shut and pounded it with her fist in frustration. Well, she’d told the disgusting salesman at Highway Harry’s she’d drive the car until it dropped. She just hadn’t expected it to happen at night in Texas in the middle of nowhere.
Driving steadily since leaving L.A., fueled by gallons of coffee, she’d allowed herself only a few hours rest at a cheap motel. Her nerves were raw, she was riding a caffeine high, and now here she was, stranded and exposed on a highway somewhere in the middle of Texas.
Her head throbbed, every bone and muscle in her body screamed for relief. The hamburger from the drive-through hours ago still sat like lead in her stomach. More than anything she wanted to curl up in a corner somewhere and hide.
All her life she’d allowed herself to follow what other people had decided for her and look where it had gotten her. She’d mistaken her father’s attitude for protection and Peter’s attentions for affection and safety. If only she could get that damned conversation out of her head.
****
At first she thought she’d misunderstood. That she wasn’t hearing correctly. Of course. That had to be it. Her hearing must be playing tricks on her, or she’d imagined it. She was two days now without those nice little white pills he’d insisted she take. They were so good at blunting the pain of her parents’ death, but they also kept her in a permanent fog.
Two short days without them and she was so raw and edgy she felt as if her skin had been stripped off. Her thinking must still be screwed up.
Peter would be angry she’d stopped taking them.
“You need them,” he kept insisting in his reasonable tone. “You still aren’t dealing with your grief very well.”
Of course not. She and her parents had been unusually close. Shyly reticent like her mother, her social life was sadly lacking in activity. Her parents had been her whole world. Now they were gone and she still couldn’t get her mind around their death, or the horrific fire that had caused it. It had been so easy to medicate herself and let Peter manage her life. Swallow her up. A comfortable trap to fall into.
The next words she heard killed that notion and ratcheted up the shock factor.
“I’m telling you, Miguel, I have it under control. Blink your eyes and she’ll be gone. Dead. It’s a done deal. Life will continue without a ripple on the surface.”
She was afraid she’d pass out. She hadn’t been wrong. They were planning to kill her, Peter, her protector, and this other man. Miguel.
Her body was now in full panic mode, sweating, shaking, pulse jumping through the roof. The pulsing of her blood boomed in her ears. Dead. In three days. She could hardly comprehend it.
****
Kate stared at the car.
God, could things possibly get any worse?
She’d kept it together day after day, even when she’d had those narrow escapes. She couldn’t believe the ease with which she’d created her new identity. All it took was watching enough television and having a little ingenuity. Gathering a big enough stash of money had been a little riskier and nearly caused her to be trapped, but now she was set for at least the foreseeable future.
Was it all going to fall apart now because of this stupid car? On top of it all, her body was coming down from the adrenaline high that had kept her going after L.A., and fatigue was weaving its way through bones. She was hanging on by a thread and this latest disaster was threatening to snap it. She bit her lip so hard she wondered why she didn’t draw blood.
Reaching into her car, she pulled out her throwaway cell phone, but stopped in the process of flipping it open. Who did she think she was going to call, anyway? It wasn’t as if she had road service, for crying out loud. She’d hoped to get as far as Houston or Dallas. What a pipe dream that was. She didn’t even have a clue where the closest town was. The last sign on the highway said San Antonio forty miles, but that was no help. It might as well be a thousand.
Cars whizzed by her on the highway in both directions. Kate didn’t know whether to be glad or mad no one stopped. She didn’t think she’d left any leads for Peter to pick up but after Los Angeles she wasn’t counting on anything. She swallowed the panic that kept clogging her throat. Here she was, out here in the open, vulnerable to anyone...
A blinding flash of headlights and the crunching of tires on gravel startled her, freezing her in place. Her stomach clenched and the familiar taste of fear crawled up her throat as a door slammed and a tall figure outlined in the lights moved toward her. God, could they have found her this easily? No, stop and take a breath, dummy. They’ve had all the miles since L.A. to catch her. Why wait for now?
Then who had stopped? Someone just as bad?
Kate looked frantically around her for a place to hide.
Too late. Here he came, whoever he was, a dark shadow moving toward her with panther-like grace.
“You look as if you could use some help.” The disembodied voice was deep, rusty, as if it wasn’t used much, and she detected a hint of a drawl.
Then he was in front of her, materializing like smoke out of the blackness of the night. Kate took a deep breath. Her heart banged against her ribs like a jackhammer, not just from fear. The unexpected visceral punch of his powerful male presence caught her totally off guard. It was the fatigue. It had to be.
“Sorry I scared you.” His voice was deep and gravelly. “I spotted you over here on the side of the highway and figured you had car trouble.”
“Y-Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Yes, I do.” As he came closer and the truck’s headlights shone on him, she got a better look.
He was tall and lean, a black T-shirt and worn black jeans molding his body, outlining every muscle, the jeans brushing the tops of scuffed western boots. Thick dark hair, just a little bit long and so inky it barely reflected the headlig
hts, accentuated a lean face full of sharp planes and angles.
Dark stubble shadowed his jaw, and deep lines bracketed his mouth and the corners of his eyes. Not the face of someone who smiled often. His black eyes, looking out from beneath thick, dark lashes, were like coal that had been chipped from the earth.
If her life had been normal—normal?—she’d have reacted to him like a cat to cream. But right now her only concern was staying alive, and she had no idea which side of that coin this man was on.
“I’d say you could use a hand here. Let’s see what kind of problem we’ve got.”
He raked a critical gaze over her, then started toward her car. Two steps and he was right next to her, all that masculinity overpowering her and crowding her space.
“I’m fine,” she said, backing up to the side of her car, desperately needing to put space between them. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
Right. Who am I kidding?
“I’m pretty good with engines,” he said, as if she hadn’t even spoken. “Move over and I’ll take a look.”
When he put his hands on her arms to shift her out of the way, she jerked as if he’d touched her with a match.
“I’m sorry.” He studied her face, frowning. “I just want to pop the hood of your car and you’re standing in the way.”
She rubbed her arms nervously. This man was all rough edges. ‘Take it or leave it’, his attitude said. She didn’t want to take it and she was afraid she couldn’t afford to leave it. She had managed to get stuck in a stupid predicament, leaving herself exposed not just to Peter and his hunters but to any predatory male who came along. Was that what this man was? A hunter?
Chapter One Page 3
