Runaway Lies

by Shannon Curtis

‘Come on, darling.’ Darcy kept going with the compressions, stopping every now and then to breathe into the girl’s airway.

  Sirens wailed, and she sobbed with relief. She looked up, still pressing down on the girl’s sternum, cringing when she felt a faint crack. Yes, their rescuers should be able to see them from the road. They’d drifted downstream, but not too far.

  Tears tracked down her face as she turned her eyes back to the girl.

  ‘Come on, damn it!’ This time her voice was harsh with desperation and fear.

  The girl coughed. Darcy gasped, and quickly rolled the child to her side as she gagged on the water spewing from her lungs.

  Warm tears tracked down Darcy’s cheeks as she rubbed the girl’s back. ‘It’s okay, sweetie, you’re fine.’ She looked at the boy, who lay in a huddled heap, crying. She reached over to touch his shoulder.

  ‘You’re both fine,’ she murmured, a reassuring smile on her face.

  ‘M-m-mummy,’ the boy whispered hoarsely, and the word sucked her vision into a long tunnel as she glanced back up the river, to where she knew a red car sat below the surface. There was no sign of the driver. Where was their mother?

  CHAPTER

  2

  ‘Calm down, Dom.’ Alex spoke to him in a soothing voice. ‘They’re okay, you heard what the doctors said.’

  Dominic St James realised his hands were fisted, and consciously relaxed them as he and Alex Knight, his friend and security advisor, strode down the hospital corridor towards his children’s room, their shoes clacking softly against the linoleum. He wanted to burst in there, wanted to make sure his kids were okay. Wanted to throttle someone, too, but mostly just wanted to hug his kids. The hospital halls were long and cool, a marked difference to the muggy heat outside, despite the fact the sun had sunk below the horizon. Tinsel was tacked along the walls, the foil strands fluttering in the streams of air-conditioned breezes. Coloured baubles were hooked at nearly regular intervals, with no discernible colour scheme. The tacky decorations seemed almost crass under the circumstances. The sharp scent of antiseptic set his teeth on edge. He hated hospitals. And his kids were in here, somewhere.

  ‘How the hell did this happen?’ He growled the words when he wanted to roar them instead.

  Alex grimaced. ‘They’re still investigating the scene of the accident, and they’ve only just managed to winch the car out. It’s still too soon for answers.’

  ‘As soon as anything comes to light, I want to know. What about Ava?’ His ex-wife was still missing. What a nightmare. Poor Ava. She’d been swept away by the current. Despite their differences and the manipulative games she’d played during the divorce, he hadn’t wished his ex-wife harm. He blinked. What a bloody mess. And it was all his fault. Those damn letters…

  ‘They haven’t found her yet, and they’ve had to stop the search because it’s too dark. They’ll resume again at first light tomorrow.’

  He glanced at his friend. ‘Do you think she’s still alive?’

  Alex met his look with a steady one of his own, his green gaze serious. ‘It’s been a few hours, and the water is cool. I don’t like to say it, Dom, but the longer she’s missing, the odds of her survival decrease.’

  Dom nodded. Alex always gave it to him straight – it was one of the reasons he valued their friendship. There were a lot of people around him who would say whatever it was they thought he wanted to hear, but Alex was always brutally honest.

  They stopped in front of room 513, and Dom nodded at the police officer who stood guard before peering through the glass panel in the door. His four-year-old twins lay sleeping, slight and vulnerable in their beds. He reached for the door handle and hesitated. His hand was shaking. He took a deep breath.

  God, he’d come so close to losing his family – again. Dark memories rose, and he shoved them viciously aside. This isn’t the same, damn it. He tried to vanquish the instinctive fear by taking comfort in the thought. A movement inside the room caught his eye, and he stiffened.

  A woman wearing hospital scrubs was sleeping in a chair off to the side. He couldn’t see much of her, as her bobbed brown hair covered most of her face, but his gaze was drawn to the sling encasing her left arm, and the pillow between her arm and chest. Her other hand lay on Julia’s bed. Who the hell was she, and what was she doing in his kids’ room? He’d ordered tight security.

  ‘Who is she?’

  Alex peered through the panel and frowned. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘That’s Miss McKenzie,’ the police officer told them quietly as he came up behind them and glanced over their shoulders. ‘She’s the one who pulled your children out of the river, Mr St James.’

  Dominic stared at the woman inside the room with new interest. ‘She did, huh?’ She seemed slight, slender, all scrunched up in the seat as though it was difficult to find a comfortable spot. Yet she’d been strong enough to haul two children out of a sinking car.

  ‘Yes, sir. She’s the one who saw the accident and called it in.’ The young officer stared at the sleeping woman. ‘It took us a while to access the registration and run the plates, and we called as soon as we could track you down. Your children were getting a little anxious, so once Miss McKenzie was treated she stayed with them.’ The police officer shuddered. ‘She’s got a dislocated shoulder. Nearly lost my lunch watching them put it back into place. Anyway, she’s pretty much been with your kids since, except for her X-rays.’

  Dominic eyed the woman. Her hair was a mess, knotted and limp, and the scrubs looked about two sizes too big for her. Both he and Alex had been briefed by the sergeant on the way from the helipad. The woman had jumped in after the sinking car – an act of bravery he could barely believe had come from a stranger. The strain in his shoulders eased. That woman had saved his kids.

  ‘I’m so sorry about your wife, Mr St James.’

  Ex-wife. He nodded. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘I’m Probationary Constable Jack Ellison. I was one of the first responders to the scene, sir. My partner and I interviewed Miss McKenzie and your kids.’

  ‘We’ll want to talk with you in a little while, then,’ Alex said.

  The young constable nodded. ‘We want to talk to you, too. Take your time, Mr St James, I’ll wait out here until you’re finished.’

  Dominic nodded briefly. ‘I’m going to stay with my kids for a while. Make sure security’s tight. I don’t want the press anywhere near my family.’

  Once the media learned that the children of Dominic St James had been involved in a car accident, the vultures would descend. He knew he couldn’t hold them off forever, but the longer he delayed the frenzy, the stronger his kids would be to weather the scandal to come. At the moment, Jonah and Julia were all that mattered.

  ‘Sure thing.’

  Dominic opened the door and slipped into the room. Alex remained outside, talking quietly with the constable. They were sleeping, Jonah, Julia, and – what was her name? McKenzie?

  He shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets, staring at his children. Their dark hair was a stark contrast against their pale skin, although Jonah’s cheeks were beginning to show some colour. Julia, on the other hand, lay so still, so pale. He eyed her closely, and nearly cried with relief when he saw the tiny rise and fall of her chest. The doctor had told him that she’d received two cracked ribs, and had swallowed a considerable amount of water, and that there was still a risk of secondary drowning for both of them.

  He’d almost lost them. He squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to pull his son and daughter out of bed, hold them, never let them go. Damn. He had money. Any equipment this hospital needed, he’d already approved the purchase and delivery of. But sickness and injury had a way of levelling the playing field. His children’s survival would have nothing to do with how much money he threw around. It was out of his hands, and he hated it. He’d have to wait and see. God, how he hated those words. Wait and see. His children were hooked up to monitors, the annoying beeps like sandpaper along his ner
ves. And there was nothing he could do to make them better. A waiting game. Frustration chafed at him. He didn’t like feeling helpless, feeling vulnerable.

  But his kids were alive, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep it that way.

  They were so lucky. He was so lucky. He opened his eyes and glanced at the sleeping woman in the chair next to Julia’s bed.

  He owed her.

  Whatever it took, he would repay that debt.

  He stepped forwards to grasp Julia’s hand, to reassure himself that she was still breathing, her heart was still beating. Her tiny hand was cool to the touch. He stared at the chubby fingers he held, as though he could will life and strength into them. He was here now, and he would do whatever he could to make sure she and her brother thrived.

  The woman stirred in the chair, her head lolling back against the headrest. The brown mess of hair fell away from her face, and her eyelids fluttered. Opened. Grey eyes, red-rimmed and bloodshot, met his.

  Darcy blinked. A tall figure stood over the girl, Julia. She stiffened, and then forced herself to relax as pain radiated down her arm. In the soft light from above the hospital beds she could tell he wasn’t a doctor. For a moment she’d thought – but no, she was safe. He wore an expensive business suit that looked tailor made; too expensive for the staff in this small regional hospital, too broad in the shoulders to be bought off the rack. The man’s blue stare was intense, his handsome features drawn into an expression of grim determination. He wore power like an exclusive cologne: subtle, seductive, mingling with his own essence until it became a part of him. Harsh and handsome. Attracted, yet wary, Darcy’s protective radar clicked into action at the same time as her feminine core. She didn’t like surprises, and this guy had appeared out of nowhere.

  He was big, taller than her own five-foot-nine height, with a deep, broad chest that suggested a brutal strength. He was fierce, gorgeous, yet vaguely familiar. He held the sleeping girl’s tiny hand, his own looking large and powerful. Darcy sat up, wincing as the movement jarred her shoulder. He tracked the movement with his eyes, assessing and alert.

  ‘Thank you, Miss McKenzie.’

  His voice was low, yet she had no trouble hearing him. She frowned in confusion, trying to prod her sluggish brain into action. McKenzie? Who the hell— Oh, right. Her new name. She should be used to it by now. She’d learned to keep her first name, otherwise she forgot to respond, but being spoken to so politely, she had to mentally shift gears. She stared up at the man. She knew she’d never met him, but he looked so…

  ‘Dominic St James,’ she blurted, surprise pitching her whisper louder than she’d intended. Little Jonah stirred in his sleep. Holy crap. She blinked again, her eyes sore and scratchy.

  He nodded. ‘You saved my children, Jonah and Julia.’

  Her gaze swept from him to the children and back again. There was a definite resemblance. The dark hair, the blue eyes, the bone structure that looked fine and delicate on Julia, and just a touch more resolute on Jonah.

  ‘Damn.’ The word escaped her lips, and his dark eyebrows rose. ‘Er, I mean, yes,’ she finished lamely as she tried not to show her panic. Dominic friggin’ St James.

  The man was one of the wealthiest on the planet. Property developer, entrepreneur and perpetual playboy, his handsome features graced the covers of any number of business magazines – and he was handsome, which meant he graced a good many other magazines as well. Reformed adrenalin junkie, now model father, the man was one of the most renowned and recognised faces of modern business.

  Crap. The man was a media magnet. She had to get out of here.

  ‘I owe you a huge debt. You saved my family.’ His voice was tender.

  Those magazines didn’t do him justice. Dark hair, bright blue gaze and a face that would have looked very pretty-boy if it weren’t for the determination and ruthless drive that showed in the faint lines at the corners of his eyes, the grooves on either side of his mouth and in the darker shadows under his eyes. All good looks aside, there was something about him, something arresting, that seemed to come from within. Charisma. You either had it, or you didn’t, and Dominic St James had it in spades.

  And he thought he owed her a debt?

  ‘Uh, look, it was nothing.’

  He glanced at the two sleeping children who looked so much like him, and his lips curved as he turned back to her. ‘I assure you, it’s not nothing. I see you’ve hurt yourself.’ He gestured to the sling.

  She waved with her good hand. ‘Oh, this? This is nothing. A slight sprain, that’s all.’ A dislocated shoulder, torn muscles and damaged tendons, actually. Hurt like the blazes.

  He nodded. ‘Still, you’re injured. And my children are alive, thanks to you. I want you to know that we’ll look after you. All hospital costs, anything.’

  She hadn’t thought of the bill. The paperwork. This was getting worse. One thing she hadn’t bought was a Medicare card. ‘That’s not necessary.’ There would be questions. God, she could only imagine the attention that would come her way if she allowed him to look after her – tempting though the thought of relinquishing her control and anxiety into another’s keeping was, even if just for a moment, just to have a rest, it wasn’t an option. She ducked her head. She’d lost her contacts in the river. She needed to sneak the hell out of here before someone started to put two and two together and figured out who she was.

  ‘How can I possibly repay you? Please, it’s the least I can do.’

  Forget I exist. ‘Anyone in my position would have done the same.’

  ‘It’s been my experience that not everybody helps when given the opportunity.’

  She wondered what had made him so cynical that he’d think not everybody would rush to save children at risk.

  ‘Daddy?’

  They turned to Julia. Dominic leaned over her bed and smiled down at his daughter.

  ‘Hey, darlin’. How are you feeling?’

  Darcy noticed how the genuine smile relaxed his features. Nope, those magazines definitely didn’t do the man justice. The man of industry seemed to melt away.

  ‘I’m sore,’ the little girl rasped, tears welling in her eyes, making them look bigger and bluer, giving her a vulnerability that had Darcy wanting to reach out and comfort the poor dear.

  Dominic gently hugged his daughter, careful of her injuries, the ones Darcy had given her during her resuscitation efforts and which now made Darcy feel like a big, lumbering monster. She looked away. It was an intimate moment, and she felt like an intruder.

  ‘I should get going,’ she murmured, levering herself in the chair until she could stand. Her arm throbbed, every breath burned down her side, her eyes were stinging and she just wanted to curl up somewhere and sleep. Maybe cry.

  ‘No,’ Julia cried, and Jonah startled awake.

  ‘Hey, hush, it’s okay, honey. Your dad’s here, now.’

  ‘Don’t go, Darcy!’ This time it was Jonah who protested.

  ‘Darcy, huh?’ Dominic repeated the name, as though trying it on for size. Darcy pasted a smile on her face. Yes, it sounded lovely when he said it, because everything this man did would end up being lovely and seductive, but she didn’t want any more attention on her name, on her.

  ‘Please stay,’ said Julia, her blue eyes welling with tears.

  Darcy struggled against her own tears. The pain medication must be wearing off. These kids were so sweet. She’d ridden with them in the ambulance. She’d sung to them, kept one occupied while the doctors checked over the other. She’d only left them to change out of her sodden and muddy clothes, and when she’d received treatment for her own injuries. Thank goodness that had been done away from the kids. She’d screamed like a banshee when they’d manipulated her arm back into its socket.

  She’d watched over them, felt responsible for them, but now it was time to hand them over to the care of their father. Their rich, famous father.

  ‘I really have to go,’ she told them quietly.

  ‘Miss McK
enzie needs to rest, too,’ Dominic told his children. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll see her tomorrow.’

  ‘Sure,’ she lied, smiling brightly. She started backing towards the door. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she whispered, blinking away tears. She must be tired. Sore and tired. Probably slightly in shock, too. Sure, she’d shared a life-changing experience with these kids, but she shouldn’t feel this sort of attachment to them, not after such a short time. She glanced at Dominic, and realised he was staring at her intently.

  No, she shouldn’t feel this sort of attachment. Not for these kids. His kids. She had to maintain her distance, maintain her disguise. That was critical.

  ‘G’night,’ she said softly. Goodbye. The kids waved weakly from their beds.

  ‘G’night,’ Dominic replied, his blue gaze enigmatic.

  Run. Just – damn, he really is gorgeous. No. Run.

  She backed out of the door and closed it gently. She sniffed. Those kids. They’d lost their mother. Tears tracked down her cheeks. She knew what it was like to be old enough to realise Mum was gone, and young enough for the fact to scare the hell out of her. These beautiful darlings were half the age she’d been when her mother had died, and they had lost their mother under the most awful circumstances. She didn’t hold much hope that the woman had survived, not if she hadn’t been found yet. She wanted to go back in there and cuddle the children, tell them that in time, it wouldn’t hurt so much.

  She sucked in a breath. It wasn’t her place. She had to leave. Had to get back on the road, put some distance between herself and what would surely become a major news story. If she was still here when the media arrived, Mark might find out. And if Mark found her, then the last four months of running, of hiding, of watching people die – it would all be for nothing.

  She had to get the hell out of here.

  CHAPTER

  3

  Alex stood on the other side of the hall, watching McKenzie. She seemed upset. He supposed he couldn’t blame her, after what she’d experienced.