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After Darke

Page 8

by Heather MacAllister


  On the phone, Jaron was assuring his editor that he was fine, but that he was going to be involved with the police for a couple of days.

  A couple. Right. By now, Bonnie could see that this was going to drag on even after they caught the red-haired man.

  Maybe it was because she was thinking of him that Bonnie focused on two men stepping out of a car that was double-parked.

  One had red hair. It wasn’t their redhead, but something inside Bonnie tightened. “Jaron, come here.”

  He didn’t argue or wait, but was beside her in an instant. “Quick—those two guys coming toward this place...”

  “That’s not Sonny.”

  “I know, but...”

  They looked at each other. “You’ve got a bad feeling?” Jaron asked.

  Bonnie nodded. “I’m probably being paranoid—”

  “Oh, no. I have the utmost respect for hunches.” He crossed to the telephone. “Later, Angela.”

  “What do we do?” Bonnie asked when he hung up the receiver.

  “Open the window.” Jaron went to the door and opened it a crack.

  Bonnie shoved the window up, not liking the implication. The only reason to open a window in the city was to climb out.

  They heard knocking on a door down the hall. “Hey, you two, soup’s on.”

  Sorenson. “Do we let him know we’re down here?” she asked.

  Jaron hesitated.

  “Hey!” Sorenson knocked again, this time with his foot. “Lemme in. Uh...cabbage roll.”

  “He’s making too much noise,” Jaron murmured. He pulled open the door, then shut it quickly.

  Bonnie didn’t have to ask why. Jaron quietly locked the door, then ran to the window as shouts erupted. “Let’s go.”

  “Go where?” Bonnie wailed, but Jaron had already stepped out onto the ledge.

  CHAPTER SIX

  BONNIE GULPED GREAT breaths of air. She could do this. She had to do this. She arranged her purse bandolier style across her shoulders and drew one more breath.

  She had one leg over the dusty window ledge when Jaron turned toward her.

  “Okay, back inside. There’s nowhere to go, unless you’ve got a flying gene I don’t know about.”

  “What are we going to do?” Bonnie was so scared she could hardly think. No, she was being generous. She couldn’t think at all.

  Jaron closed his eyes briefly. “Fire escape.”

  They’d have to go out into the hall. “They’ll see us.”

  “We’ll have to be quick.”

  Bonnie’s heart was hammering so hard she could barely hear him. Swallowing, she nodded dumbly.

  Jaron stared at her a moment, then took hold of her upper arms. Warmth seeped into her muscles. “You can do this. You will do this.”

  He held her gaze with his until Bonnie found herself giving him a quick nod. Amazingly, she felt better. Not great, but better.

  Jaron unlocked the door and opened it the slightest crack.

  There was a loud crash. “They’ve kicked in the door.”

  “Why? It wasn’t locked.”

  “Come on.” He touched her arm. “And don’t look back.”

  Naturally, she did, and saw a large lump—Sorenson—

  and the spilled coffee in the hallway. Was he all right?

  “Don’t even think it.” Jaron used the muscles she’d admired to jerk open the window. “Go!”

  And Bonnie went. It was her first time on a fire escape, but she managed okay.

  “Hurry!” Jaron urged her.

  She was going to have to do better than okay. Blindly climbing down step after step, she prayed her feet wouldn’t slip.

  “Keep moving. You’re doing great.”

  It sounded as if they were making enough noise to alert the whole building that they were clattering down the old metal stairs. Bonnie zigged, then zagged. Jaron was right above her, and if the circumstances weren’t enough to convince her to hurry, the thought of him stepping on her head was. He would, too.

  She got to the end. The last section of stairs lowered to the ground and she jumped off. They were in an alley between two buildings, and no one was in sight.

  “Move!” Jaron landed beside her, took her arm and propelled her to the wall of the hotel. Not again, she thought, bracing herself in time to prevent injury. After listening for a moment, Jaron put on his sunglasses and nodded.

  Bonnie started to run down the alley but he grabbed her, then looped his arm around her waist. “Running attracts attention. We’re going to stroll to the front of the hotel and then blend in with the crowd.”

  It was just a few feet, but it seemed like miles. Purely to keep pace with Jaron, Bonnie put her arm around his waist, too. They might have been a couple returning after spending the night together.

  Which, in a way, they were.

  They strolled past the building next to the hotel, then kept going. Jaron’s arm felt like the restraining bar in a roller coaster—padded, but all steel beneath. With every step, Bonnie strained to hear the sounds of pursuit—or gunfire. There were a few people on the street this morning, but not enough for them to be lost in a crowd.

  She couldn’t stand it. She had to know if they’d been discovered.

  “Don’t look back,” Jaron instructed, reading her mind.

  “I’m so scared,” she whispered, not sure if he’d hear her over the traffic and the street noise.

  “Adrenaline is great stuff, though, isn’t it? Damn, what a high.”

  Bonnie actually laughed. “Terrific.” She was still breathing hard.

  Jaron tightened his arm around her, and for a moment, if she didn’t exactly forget about their situation, she was able to ignore it and enjoy the feel of his arm around her waist and his body against hers.

  She didn’t know why she did, and to be honest, didn’t much care. Life was too complicated at the moment. She’d just go with the feelings and worry about the repercussions later. Assuming there was a later.

  She glanced up at Jaron. Staring straight ahead, his expression determined, he seemed totally focused on making sure there was a later. Who’d have figured he’d be great in a crisis?

  They crossed the street with a knot of people. “Do you think Sorenson is okay?” Bonnie asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I didn’t hear any gunshots and because he is a policeman and because killing police attracts attention they don’t need.”

  “But he wasn’t wearing a uniform.”

  “He didn’t have to. Who else would be guarding us?”

  Bonnie decided to accept Jaron’s reasoning. “What about their car? Is it still double-parked?”

  “I don’t want to look.”

  “I do. I want to look.” She had to know.

  “People who are going about their business don’t look over their shoulders while they walk down the street.”

  “I don’t care. I have to know.”

  Jaron dropped his arm from around her waist. “Okay, then I’ll have to kiss you.”

  “What?” She stopped right in the middle of the sidewalk.

  Instead of explaining, Jaron stepped in front of her and lowered his head.

  It all happened so fast, Bonnie didn’t have a chance to pull back. At least that’s what she told herself. It was less complicated that way. Her lips tingled in anticipation.

  But pulling away became unnecessary. Jaron’s mouth stopped an inch away from hers. Bonnie opened her eyes and found him looking behind her. Oh. It was a ruse. And later—again, assuming there was a later—she’d have to face this completely inappropriate disappointment she felt.

  “Are they still there?” she asked.

  “
Can’t tell. Tilt your head.”

  “Right or left?”

  “Right.”

  She tilted, which brought her even closer to him. He smelled like hotel soap instead of sandalwood. She kind of missed that.

  “The car’s still there,” he said. “Let’s boogie.”

  But he didn’t move. Behind the dark glasses he wore, his gaze dropped first to her eyes, then slid to her mouth.

  Bonnie’s heart, which apparently hadn’t been given enough of a workout this morning, started beating faster. And harder.

  His lips crooking in a grin that made her stomach do a flip-flop, Jaron kissed her. For real.

  In spite of her curiosity, Bonnie admitted that she thought Jaron would be a prissy kisser. Especially since they were in the middle of a sidewalk in downtown...somewhere.

  Part of her wanted a prissy kiss, one of those dry-lipped, closed-mouth, pressing-lips-together deals. That would kill this inconvenient attraction she’d developed for Jaron. Considering that he had just rescued her from a nasty situation, well, the attraction was understandable.

  And part of her—the man-starved part—was so very, very glad that the kiss wasn’t prissy. Not that Jaron was trying to say hello to her tonsils. She should have known he’d have too much class for that. However, this was, indeed, a full-fledged kiss, the kind that established him as a man with certain manly appetites. A man that made her glad she knew how to cook—and had a full pantry.

  At the same time, it was not enough to presume— Though, come to think of it, kissing her in the middle of a sidewalk was pretty presumptuous. In fact she should—

  She should quit thinking and just go with it.

  His lips were firm and his beard was not really noticeable, especially since Jaron was doing things with the tip of his tongue that made her lips extra sensitive. This was a man who’d kissed before and enjoyed it.

  Bonnie had been kissed before. Heck, she’d even enjoyed it—but that was before she’d learned what enjoyment was.

  Jaron tugged her lower lip into his mouth ever so slightly, and her stomach, still dizzy from its recent flip-flop, quivered.

  She sighed into him, going all boneless and melting, then felt the vibrations of his chuckle before she heard the sound.

  “Like I said, adrenaline’s great stuff.” Looking self-satisfied, he set her aside.

  Well, Bonnie wasn’t satisfied. Not at all. When she didn’t start walking, Jaron put his arm around her waist again and urged her onward.

  She gathered all the scraps of outrage she could—not much, since most of it was on its back, purring. “What did you do that for?”

  “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop in.”

  “So...so you kissed me just because you could? You took advantage of the situation—oh!”

  “What?”

  Bonnie had been thinking that if he’d taken advantage of that situation, then what other situations—specifically the one where they’d been sleeping together—had he taken advantage of? She eyed him speculatively.

  “I wouldn’t have kissed you if I hadn’t thought you’d enjoy it.”

  “That’s very cavalier of you. Treat the little country hick to some big-city lovin’?”

  He glanced down at her. “But you did enjoy it, didn’t you?”

  Well, yes, but that wasn’t the point. Bonnie felt a murderous rage well within her. She was so angry she was seeing beyond red; she was all the way to purple. Jaron didn’t know it, but he was in more danger from her than any pursuing thugs.

  She stopped walking. She didn’t want to be with Jaron any longer. “Okay, I think we’re safe. We’ll say goodbye now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because...” Bonnie became aware of her surroundings. She’d conveniently stopped in front of a drugstore with a coffee counter. “Because I’m going to get a cup of coffee.”

  “Are you completely insane? We’re still within sight. We’ve got to put as much space between us and the bad guys as we can.”

  As of now, he was a bad guy. “You go ahead.”

  “I will not. If you insist on coffee, then we’ll both go in.”

  “You go somewhere else.”

  Jaron reached around her and opened the glass door. “I can’t believe you.”

  Bonnie didn’t really want coffee—well, she did, but not enough to endanger her life. But Jaron was storming over to the counter, where he stared stonily at the older woman behind it.

  She stared back.

  “Two coffees to go. You like milk, right?” He tossed the question over his shoulder at Bonnie.

  “Yeah.”

  “We don’t offer ‘to go.”’

  A muscle moved in Jaron’s jaw as he gritted his teeth. “Just bring the two coffees, please.”

  Bonnie edged toward the door. She’d slip out while he was occupied with paying the tab. Beside the door, there was a newspaper vending machine. Bonnie had her hand on the glass door before the front-page story registered. With horror, she saw Jaron’s picture blown up three columns wide under the headline Columnist Witnesses Murder.

  In the picture, he wore sunglasses, a beard, and was dressed all in black. In other words, he looked exactly the way he did now.

  Bonnie raced over to the counter and grabbed his arm. “We’ve got to get out of here!” she whispered.

  “I’m glad you realize it.” He slid a five-dollar bill across the counter as the woman put down two cups of coffee.

  In Bonnie’s opinion, she’d stared at Jaron as though she recognized him. Suddenly everyone in the world was a suspect. “Come on!”

  “Drink your coffee. I’m not going through this again.”

  Bonnie poured in as much cream as she could to cool it off, then drained the entire cup. Jaron got in a couple of sips before she jerked on his arm.

  “My cha—”

  “Leave it.” She dragged him to the door and pointed meaningfully to the local New Jersey newspaper displayed in the vending machine window.

  “Sh—”

  “Take off the glasses.”

  Jaron ripped them from his eyes as Bonnie pushed through the door.

  “You look too much like you,” she said. “We have to fix that.”

  “And just how are we going to do that?”

  Bonnie spied a store selling camping gear. “Follow me.”

  * * *

  BONNIE WAS QUITE PLEASED with herself. “I think wearing the cap backward is the perfect touch.”

  “It is so last century,” Jaron muttered. “And I hate these shoes.” He stuck out a foot encased in a casual athletic walking shoe. “They’re too big.”

  “They change the way you walk. Be glad I haven’t put a rock in them. I learned that from the ‘Master of Disguises’ special on PBS. You see, TV does have some value.”

  No more than thirty minutes had passed since Bonnie had discovered that Jaron was front-page news. She was now walking down the street with a different person. She wasn’t worried that anyone would recognize her—after all, she was wearing the requisite black and blended in with the natives. But Jaron wasn’t the type to blend in with anyone.

  So while he’d tried on and bought jeans, a T-shirt and a flannel shirt that Bonnie told him to wear unbuttoned, she’d gone back to the drugstore and bought a razor.

  Then she’d made him shave off his beard.

  He hadn’t argued, only grimly disappeared into the store’s rest room and emerged clean-shaven.

  Bonnie couldn’t believe how good he looked without the Jaron Darke trappings. He had a well-shaped jaw. She hadn’t ever considered the relative merits of jaw shapes before, but after seeing Jaron’s, she knew what a good one was.

  They’d also used the ATM machine because Jaron knew that if
he wanted to avoid being traced, he wouldn’t be able to again. Bonnie wished he could, since he casually withdrew more than she had in her entire account.

  Never mind.

  “So where are we going?” she asked.

  “Down the street.” He walked hunched over with his hands in his pockets. His own mother wouldn’t recognize him.

  “But where?”

  He exhaled. “I hadn’t got that far. Damn, I wish I had my cell phone, even though it would be risky to use it.”

  “Who are you going to call?”

  “Captain Quigg, I guess.”

  “Not the police!”

  “Why not the police? They’ll protect us.”

  “Well, they’ve done a lousy job so far! It took the bad guys about six hours to find us at a hotel the police consider safe. Sounds like a leak to me.”

  “And that would be your specialty.”

  Bonnie tilted her chin up. “Laugh all you want, but I’m not going back to the police.”

  Jaron didn’t say anything for a few minutes. They turned down the block, now several streets over from the one their hotel was on. “What do you want to do?” he asked finally. “I have to tell you, I know New York, but I don’t know New Jersey.”

  “You can’t go back to New York. Even without the goatee, someone will recognize you.” Bonnie stepped into the street and hailed a cab. “So you’re coming home with me.”

  “Oh, right. Like they won’t look there.”

  Bonnie climbed into the cab. “Then we’ll know about it. That’s the beauty of small towns. They thrive on gossip.”

  “I don’t know....” Jaron shook his head.

  “I do. Get in.”

  Looking none too gracious, Jaron climbed into the cab. “This is a bad idea.”

  “A bad idea is better than no idea. Take us to the train station,” she said to the driver.

  Bonnie enjoyed being the one in control. So far they’d been in Jaron’s world and look what had happened.

  Now they were going to her world.

 

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