Perilous Trust

by Barbara Freethy

  "It's Sophie."

  "Oh my God, Sophie." Cassie's tone immediately changed. "I've been so worried about you. My dad told me your father was killed in a car crash, and you're missing, and everyone is looking for you. Where are you? Are you all right?"

  "I'm okay. Well, I'm not okay, but I'm hanging in there. I didn’t know if you'd heard the news about my father. I wanted to call you and tell you personally, but a lot has been happening really fast."

  "My dad said everyone thinks you've been kidnapped by whoever killed your father. I've been really afraid for you, Sophie." Cassie's voice choked on the end of her sentence.

  Cassie's emotion almost made Sophie lose it, but she couldn't do that.

  "What happened?" Cassie continued.

  Damon squeezed her leg, giving her a silent reminder not to reveal too much.

  "I saw some men going into my apartment building," she said, deciding to stick close to the truth. "I got scared, so I ran away. I probably shouldn't be calling you, but I just had to hear a friendly voice. And I thought maybe your dad could help me. I don't have his number, and I wasn't sure if he was in Manhattan or Greenwich or somewhere else."

  "Oh, no, I'm sorry. He's not in New York or in Greenwich. Dad just got on a plane to Paris. I'm meeting him there tomorrow for my birthday. It will be the first time I've celebrated my birthday with him in a few years, but he's not seeing anyone right now, and neither am I, so we decided we should do Paris together."

  Cassie's plans with her dad for a birthday celebration almost broke her heart again. "That sounds lovely."

  "But if you need us, Sophie, we will help you. Maybe you should come to Paris, too. I can wire you money, buy you a ticket, whatever you need."

  She would love to run away to France, but that wasn’t an option. "It's all right. I have someone who is helping me here. But maybe I'll call you tomorrow and I can talk to you and your dad together."

  "Absolutely. We can call you as soon as we get together. Is this a good number?"

  "I'll call you. I'm not sure if I'll have this phone tomorrow."

  "What does that mean?"

  "It's too long of a story to get into."

  "Sophie, I'm really worried about you. Why don't you go to the FBI? They'll protect you."

  "I can't trust anyone right now."

  "You can't trust the people who've worked with your dad for twenty-something years?" Cassie asked doubtfully. "That doesn't make sense."

  "Nothing makes sense, but that's where I'm at."

  Damon tapped her leg again. He wanted her to wrap it up.

  "I'll speak to you tomorrow," she said. "Don't worry about me. And, please, don't tell anyone about this call."

  "I won't. I promise. Stay safe."

  "I'm going to try." She clicked the phone off and looked at Damon. "I didn't think it would be hard to hear her voice but it was. At any rate, the house in Greenwich should be empty. Should we go for it?"

  "It sounds like our best bet. We need to get another phone. See if you can find a place on the map where we can buy one, before we drop this car off."

  "Why do we have to get another phone now?"

  "You just made a call to the daughter of a former FBI agent."

  "Cassie wouldn't know how to trace a call."

  "Not saying she would. Just see if you can find anything."

  She used the phone map to search. "There's a shopping center a mile and a half from here."

  He followed her directions, and several minutes later, he pulled into a busy retail center that boasted a supermarket, a drugstore, and a bunch of small shops, including one that sold phones.

  "I'm going to need some cash," he said.

  "We have plenty of that," she said cynically.

  "Not that cash."

  She dug into her bag and pulled out some bills.

  "I'll be right back," he told her. "Keep the doors locked."

  She did as he asked, but she felt like a sitting duck as soon as he left the car. She shifted down in her seat, hoping no one would notice her or the stolen vehicle she was sitting in. It seemed to take forever for Damon to complete the transaction, but finally he came out of the store. He took the wrapping off the new phone and dumped the box into the trash along with the old phone they'd been using.

  When he got to the car, he motioned for her to get out. He grabbed the suitcase from the back and suggested they walk to the other end of the lot to call for a cab.

  "So, we're not stealing another car?" she asked.

  "I like the idea of using Jamie's car, if it's at the Rowlands' house. We'll get a cab to drop us a few blocks away."

  "Okay. Good idea." She felt very conspicuous as they walked across the crowded lot. She felt terrified to be in the open, but she kept telling herself that no one was paying any attention to them. Still, it felt like there were eyes everywhere. They'd tried to hide their tracks, but how successful had they been?

  They stopped by the entrance to a clothing boutique, and Damon called for a cab. "Five minutes," he said, as he got off the phone.

  "That feels like an eternity right now."

  "We'll be fine," he assured her.

  She wondered if he really thought that, or if he was just saying it for her benefit, but she decided to let it be, because she really wanted to believe they would be fine. "That suitcase feels like it's drawing attention."

  "Only because you know what's inside," he replied. But even so, he pushed the suitcase toward a garbage can so it wasn't as noticeable.

  "I don't want to think about what's inside."

  He nodded, his expression grim. "Neither do I."

  Despite what she'd just said, she couldn't help thinking about the money, the fake IDs, the men with the guns who had almost taken their lives. Which brought up another question.

  "How do you think they found us?" she asked. "How did they know we were at the storage unit?"

  "The manager of the storage center could have called someone when we accessed the unit."

  "Wouldn't that have taken longer for someone to get there if they were waiting for a call?"

  "They could have been nearby."

  "But if the manager was in on it, he could have opened the unit at any time. If they just wanted the cash…" She stopped, seeing the truth in his eyes. "It wasn't just the cash. It's me."

  "Or both of us, at this point. If they just wanted the case, they would have just shot us without asking for us to hand it over."

  That didn't make her feel good at all, but she couldn't deny that it made sense. "If the manager didn't make the call, is there some way we're being tracked? We've been so careful. But first the cabin, then the storage unit…"

  "We weren't that careful," he said with a shake of his head. "We were in New Haven, Sophie, close to where your dad went to school, going to a storage unit he'd had for years. Even if it wasn't in his name, it's tied to him. I told you I was concerned about that last night. At any rate, we need to get some place where we can think without looking over our shoulders every second."

  She couldn't agree more. "There's a cab," she said, hoping her idea to use the Rowlands' house was as good as she thought, because certainly there was a link between her dad and the Rowlands, too.

  Thirteen

  They had the cab drop them off a few blocks from the Rowlands' house, and then they walked the rest of the way. Damon hadn't paid much attention to the house the one and only time he'd been there for Jamie's funeral, but it was an impressive two-story stone and clapboard colonial on a half-acre of land with a winding driveway and a three-car garage set back from the house. It matched the other large and stately homes in the upscale neighborhood, most of which were set apart from their neighbors by tall trees and thick brush.

  "I like the privacy level," he muttered to Sophie, as they walked up the drive. He was a little surprised there were no electronic gates on the property, but since the Rowlands didn't appear to spend much time in the house anymore, maybe they'd gone lax on security.
/>   They walked up the front steps and paused by the front door.

  "Should we ring the bell?" Sophie asked nervously.

  "Yes. Let's see if anyone answers. We know it won't be Cassie or Vincent."

  Sophie pressed the bell and they waited. She hit it again when no one answered. As he looked around, he was relieved to see that the front door could not be seen from the street. There was a coded lock on the door, which he might be able to break, but he wasn't ready for that yet.

  "Let's go around the back," he said. "We'll check the garage."

  Unlike the front door, the door leading into the garage had just a simple lock on it, and he was able to lift the mechanism with another small tool that he carried with him.

  "You're like Inspector Gadget," Sophie murmured.

  "I'm not sure that's a compliment, but okay," he said dryly, pushing open the door.

  They walked into the large garage. There were two cars parked inside. One was a silver BMW SUV and the other was a dark-red Chevy Camaro with a convertible top. His gut clenched at the sight of that car, memories of driving down to Quantico with Jamie behind the wheel, the top down, the music blaring, and the open road filled with possibilities in front of them. That day seemed like a lifetime ago.

  "Jamie's car," Sophie said, walking over to the vehicle.

  She put her hand on the hood, a yearning sadness in her expression, and he completely understood the feeling. Jamie had been a bright spot in both of their lives, and he doubted Jamie had even known how much of an impact he'd made on them.

  "Jamie always liked driving a convertible," she continued, giving him a quiet smile. "When he got out of the Army, right before he went to Virginia for FBI training, he came by my apartment, and we took a ride down the Jersey Shore. We hadn’t seen each other in years, and I thought he'd changed in some ways—there were more shadows in his eyes, more lines on his face, even a little gray in his hair—but in other ways he was just the same Jamie—optimistic, carefree, happy. I thought being a soldier would make him more serious. I'm sure he saw some horrible things, but he never talked about them."

  "He was good at compartmentalizing and letting bad memories go."

  "You're good at that, too."

  "It comes with the job we both did. It's hard to survive if you don't lock some things away."

  "I'm starting to understand that. My emotions are all over the place," she said. "I can't let grief over my dad's death take hold. I can't let fear of whoever is trying to kill us paralyze me. I can't worry about where my dad got all that money, because I'll get lost in all the questions, and I won't be ready for whatever is coming next. My life is a spinning top right now, and if I stop spinning, I might crash and end up in an even worse place." She paused. "And then…there's you."

  His pulse quickened as she turned to face him. "What about me?"

  "You know," she said helplessly. "I really did think I was over you."

  His mouth went dry at her words. He'd thought he was over her, too. Before he could utter a reply, the sound of voices in the yard sent him rushing across the garage. He grabbed her hand and pulled her around to the other side of Jamie's car. They squatted down, hidden in the space between the car and the wall.

  "The suitcase," she whispered.

  He suddenly realized he'd left the suitcase where he'd been standing. He crept out of hiding to get it and then slid it behind the car next to her.

  The voices were louder now. They sounded female.

  "Who do you think is out there?" Sophie asked in a hushed voice.

  He listened closely. The women were speaking Spanish—or maybe Portuguese. "Stay here. I'm going to take a look."

  "Maybe you shouldn't. What if they see you? What if they come in?"

  "I'll be right back. Just stay hidden."

  He walked over to the side door of the garage. The top half was a window covered by a decorative fabric curtain. He lifted it and saw two women on the back deck. One was sweeping, and the other was shaking out a small rug. A moment later, they both went into the house, but the back door was still open.

  If they were going to get in the house, this was their best chance. He walked quickly back to Sophie.

  "Housecleaners," he said, squatting down next to her. "Two women. There could be more inside, or that could be it."

  "Why didn't they answer the door?"

  "Maybe they just arrived."

  "Do you think they'll come into the garage?"

  He looked around, doubting that cleaning the garage was part of their routine. "I don't think so. They left the door to the house open. I'm going to see if I can get inside."

  "What?" she asked sharply. "You're going to sneak into the house while there are people there? Are you crazy?"

  It was a risk, but one he felt he needed to take. They needed a place to stay, and this garage was not going to be comfortable for longer than a few hours. "It's a big house, and I doubt the crew has more than two or three people. I'll find somewhere to hide, and when they're gone, I'll let you in."

  "What if they see you and call the police?"

  "I can do it, Sophie."

  She stared back at him with unhappy eyes. "Don't get caught. I—I need you, Damon. I know I acted like I didn't before, but I do."

  Her heartfelt admission stirred him. She wasn't talking about needing him in a sexual way, but he couldn't stop himself from going there.

  Impulsively, he leaned in and kissed her lips. Her sweet, hot taste brought back all the memories between them. He framed her face with his hands. He wanted to linger, explore the warm depths of her mouth, slide his tongue down her neck, feel her curves with his fingers, and lose himself in her, the way he'd done before.

  The temperature in the garage went up by twenty degrees. It had always been like that between them—hot, passionate, reckless.

  It took all his willpower to drag his mouth away from hers.

  Her eyes glittered with desire, her cheeks awash with pink, a nice change from the paleness he'd seen earlier. Her blood was definitely pumping again, and so was his.

  "I'll be back," he promised.

  "Hurry," she murmured.

  He wanted to believe it was because she wanted him to come back and keep the kiss going, but more likely it was because she was worried about being left alone. That wasn't going to happen. He was not leaving Sophie until she was safe.

  But as he slipped out the side door, he couldn't help thinking it would be difficult to leave her even then.

  * * *

  Sophie sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall of the garage, her position protected from view by the side of Jamie's car. Her breath was coming fast and ragged, and while she told herself it was fear, it was also something else—it was Damon.

  The last thing she'd expected him to do was kiss her. The last thing she'd wanted him to do was kiss her.

  Actually, that wasn't true.

  She'd been wanting him to kiss her since he'd first shown up at the cabin.

  Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back against the wall, letting the feelings he'd stirred up run through her.

  It had been just like before. One kiss—and then searing, unexpected, overwhelming need.

  But this wasn't like before. They couldn't have a night and walk away from each other. They were tied together for God knew how long. They were fighting to stay alive. The last thing she should be thinking about was sleeping with Damon. But wouldn't it be nice to forget about everything for just a little while?

  She'd told him she'd begun to understand the importance of compartmentalizing, and that was definitely true.

  Why not lock everything else behind their own separate doors and just keep the one open with him? She was tired of being confused, sad, scared, angry…she just wanted to feel happy, positive emotions, release the tension, float away on a sensual cloud of goodness.

  She knew she'd feel that way with Damon. It had been great between them before. They'd been in sync from the first kiss, the first to
uch. It was as if their bodies had been waiting for each other—made for each other. If ever a night had been close to perfect, it had been that one.

  Until he'd left.

  Opening her eyes, she reminded herself that they were better in the dark, in the shadows, and not in reality, not in the cold light of day, which was probably why Damon had abruptly ended the kiss he'd impulsively started.

  She shouldn't be worrying about having sex with Damon; she should be concerned about whether he could hide out in the house until the cleaners left. The last thing they needed was for the police to arrive and arrest them for trespassing. If that happened, they'd get split up, and who knew what other charges they would face?

  As her gaze moved to the suitcase her father had left her, she knew she should also be worried about the money. She'd been trying hard not to think about it.

  She had no idea how much cash was inside, but she knew it was a lot. Where had he gotten all that money? She hoped he'd cleaned out his bank accounts and stashed the money in the case and hid it in the storage unit before getting in his car and ending up in northern New Jersey. But that seemed doubtful.

  They'd always lived a comfortable life, but not a rich life, and money had gotten tighter after her mother had become sick.

  She'd also drained some dollars out of her father's bank account with all her educational expenses. He'd always told her that he wanted to pay for college and grad school, that he didn't want her to graduate with debt, and he'd made that happen, but now she couldn't help wondering how he'd managed it. She had no idea what he got paid, but she didn't think it was an exorbitant amount. So where had the money come from? Had he liquidated some investments that she knew nothing about?

  Her father's rambling voicemails ran through her head again…The first words he'd spoken to her had been, "I'm sorry." He'd said he'd made mistakes, that he'd ended up in a bad place, that he wanted to still fix things and maybe he could, but if he couldn't, he wanted her to run. He wanted her to live a happy life, to be safe. But he'd also told her to get the key, go to the storage unit. He'd wanted her to find the money. She was a hundred percent sure of that. He'd wanted her to use it and the passports and start a new life—as if that would be easy to do.