‘So you’re going to disappear until the end of the trial, huh?’
She shrugged, trying to adopt his casual attitude, although she just wanted to throw herself at him and never let go. ‘Probably only until I’ve finished giving testimony,’ she said. She hoped that was the case. A trial could drag on for weeks, possibly even months. She would be in hiding all that time, no contact with her father, her brother and his family – with Dom. She would be so glad when it was over, so glad to join the land of the living, instead of this shadow world that had been her home for too long.
He shifted to one foot, bending the other leg in a relaxed pose. How could he be so damned relaxed? Her heart was splintering. ‘Listen, I – I wanted to thank you for what you did.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Putting yourself out there – it must have been hell for you.’ He looked at her through his eyelashes, exactly the same way Jonah did when he was feeling unsure. ‘It was hell for me,’ he murmured, and for a moment the ripping of her heart paused, and then he continued. ‘I appreciate what you’ve done for my family, Darcy. I won’t forget it.’ He said it quietly, with a sober intensity that was forceful in its understated delivery.
She hesitated. She’d heard those words when he thought she was a different woman, one without an agenda. She remembered her various responses, the modesty, the dismissal. She smiled. ‘It was very important for me to do this,’ she whispered. To try to make up for all the wrongs.
Was it selfish of her to want him to want her to stay? After everything she’d done, after everything that had happened to his family, she was reluctant to leave. She’d lived in a self-imposed asylum for what felt like forever, alone and lonely, feeling that it was the best she could hope for, the best she deserved, but Dominic and his family had shown her there was more – a tantalising glimpse of redemption, of a freedom from her past. It had come at such a high cost though – Jonah and Julia…Gertrude. He was probably happy to see the back of her. After everything, perhaps this really was her just reward.
His gaze slid to the officer waiting patiently in the car before returning to her, and the intensity, the heat, took her breath away. ‘You need to forgive yourself,’ he murmured, his voice a low, honey-coated rumble.
Her breath hitched. His words struck her in a place that was raw, open and so very, very dark. She blinked, half turning away, as though to shield herself. He gently grasped her arm.
‘You didn’t start this, Darce. What your boss did, whatever his hired goons have done – every ripple has been their doing, not yours.’ His voice was low, urgent.
She shook her head. No, she couldn’t absolve herself of this guilt. Too many people had died, too many people had been hurt, and too many lives had changed forever. Too much pain. She looked up at him, trying to firm the wobble in her chin. She couldn’t cry, wouldn’t cry over this, damn it. She didn’t deserve that luxury, that martyrdom.
‘Somehow, I don’t think the families of those murdered officers would agree, Dom. Or the people who’ve lost everything they’ve worked their entire lives for – Alannah’s family,’ she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. She’d seen the reports. She now knew why Alannah hadn’t shown that day, and she didn’t know how to get past the young woman’s murder. ‘There are people out there who have been badly hurt by my boss’s scheme, by everything that’s been done to get me. Your own children, for heaven’s sake,’ she said, gesturing to the mansion behind him. ‘You can’t tell me that’s not my fault, that I haven’t had some role in that. I lied to you, Dom. Never forget that.’ No matter what she might have wished for with Dominic, those wishes were now dying petals in the wind. She couldn’t forgive herself for that – how could Dominic?
Dom frowned. ‘I don’t agree with what you did, Darcy, but I do understand it, and I don’t blame you for it.’
She clutched the frame of the car door, one foot in, one foot out; reluctant to leave, but knowing she couldn’t stay. ‘Thank you, Dom. That’s very generous.’
He lifted a hand to lightly caress her face, his finger trailing down the dragon wings on her throat before sliding his hands back inside his trouser pockets. ‘Be generous to yourself, Darcy.’ He hesitated. ‘Keep in touch.’
She gave him a half-hearted smile as she climbed into the car, the door closing with a finality that was heart-wrenching. Keep in touch. God, she would love that, but she didn’t think that would be a good idea. Standing out in the open at Luna Park, waiting for the bullet to hit, she’d come to realise a few things.
One: She loved Dominic St James. She loved Jonah and Julia. She would do anything to keep them out of danger.
Two: She had only brought trouble to this family, and the best thing she could do for them would be to stay well away from them.
Three: No matter how logically she looked at this, her heart refused to agree with her head.
This time she didn’t try to stop the tears from falling as the car rolled slowly down the drive.
Kowalski watched as the car drove out of the automatic security gate and turned onto the tree-lined street. It passed and he twisted around to ensure there was only one vehicle, then slowly pulled in behind it.
He liked it when a plan came together. The St James Mosman estate had formidable security, just like the Bowral property, and the place was swarming with cops, but now the threat was over, the children located, safe and sound, the police presence would relax. And Ms Montgomery would be placed into protective custody.
They didn’t need to know the kids were never in danger, at least, not from him. He didn’t hurt kids. But after his first attempt in Bowral, he’d quickly realised that those two kids were Montgomery’s weakness – and he was more than happy to exploit a weakness.
His boss had connections – even better connections than Mark Shein – but the security and secrecy involved in this witness’s protection was restricted to a need-to-know basis. The customary sources within the department were not part of the loop on this one. Once Darcy Montgomery was ensconced in her new safe house, it would be impossible to locate her, let alone get at her. No, the best way to get close enough to kill her was to get her away from the bulk of the officers, and from St James, and before she went into hiding. In other words, en route to her safe house.
Either way, she wasn’t going to get her day in court.
The opportunity needed to be taken sooner rather than later. He gunned the motor.
CHAPTER
32
Darcy gazed out of the window as the car wound its way through the narrow neighbourhood streets, the purple blast of frangipani blossoms providing the occasional colourful distraction. It was that time of day when the sun had disappeared from the sky, and night was fast encroaching. The streets were deserted, people already home from work and safely ensconced in their homes, eating dinner.
Most of the houses in this area hid behind high walls and gates, but there were some, particularly the older Federation-style ones, that remained visible to passers-by. She smiled at one cottage near a corner by a park, decked out in its period charm, with a cookie-cutter timber trim and neat box hedge that gave it an old-world appeal. If she closed her eyes, she could almost smell the frangipani blossoms as they passed.
The car jolted forwards as something slammed into its rear, and Darcy screamed. Glass shattered around her and tyres screeched as her driver tried to regain control of the vehicle. The car jerked to one side, bouncing up over the gutter and smashing through the low-lying log fence that ringed the park. Darcy was thrown about, the belt cutting painfully into her chest until the car finally slammed to a stop.
She unclipped her seatbelt so that she could collapse along the length of the backseat. Oh God, that hurt. Her neck and shoulders ached and her chest burned. She glanced at the driver. What the hell just happened? The officer’s head rolled back, the white airbag sagging over the steering wheel. He turned slowly to face her. His sunglasses were broken, one lens completely gone to reveal a dazed eye that was blinking rapidly. Blood
streamed from a cut on his forehead, and from his nose.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, and she nodded, wincing at the dull throb in her neck.
A car door slammed in the silence, and Darcy stiffened. Someone had hit them – an accident, or something more sinister? The police officer fumbled with his seatbelt, and she quickly leaned between the front seats to depress the clasp for him.
He groaned as he reached for the radio. There was a soft plink, and a hole appeared in the windscreen, cracks radiating out. The officer jerked back.
‘Stay down,’ he yelled at her, then brought the radio mouthpiece to his lips and started calling rapid-fire instructions to someone, she didn’t know who.
Another soft plink, and the windscreen shattered. Darcy screamed, covering her head with her arms as she tried to burrow into the backseat. The driver wriggled, pulled his gun out of his holster and squeezed off a couple of rounds through the back window.
Heart pounding, Darcy jolted at the sound of each bullet, sounding like cannon fire inside the car.
‘Open that door,’ the police officer snapped at her, peering around the backrest of his seat. ‘Get ready to run.’
‘Omigod,’ Darcy sobbed as she fumbled with the door handle. It took some shoving, and she whimpered when more bullets hit the car. There was no real signal that a gun had been fired, just the sound of a projectile hitting a target. Quiet and deadly. The passenger door finally cracked open.
‘I’m going to count to three, and you’re going to run for cover. Do you understand?’
Darcy nodded at the fierce, bloodied police officer, biting her lip to keep her screams of panic inside.
He nodded, then counted: ‘One, two, THREE!’
She shoved the door open wider, crawled out onto the grass, and rolled to her feet. She had a brief impression of the police officer opening the front passenger door and taking cover behind it as he fired off several rounds, and then she ran.
She darted across the corner of the park, keeping low, waiting for one of those quiet bullets to hit her flesh, praying that it wouldn’t. A cloud of dirt bloomed near her right foot, and she shrieked and changed direction, leaping over the low garden wall of one of those quaint, Federation-style cottages and rounding the corner of the house. She opened the side gate, barrelling along the side passage until it opened up into a backyard.
For a moment, her feet kept in time with the rapid firing in the street, then almost abruptly the explosions stopped.
Darcy kept running. Over the back patio, around the pool to the back fence. She launched herself at it, whimpering as she used her still-healing arm and shoulder to hoist herself up and over the fence into someone else’s backyard. She landed on her feet and started running across the back lawn, ignoring the yippy dog that ran towards her.
She could hear the footsteps pounding down the passage in the other property, and almost stopped to look, then reasoned that if it was the police officer, he’d call out to her. But there was only the sound of her pursuer’s feet and that left only one possibility, so she ran faster, her breaths coming in great, dragging pants.
Sirens. Oh, thank God, she could hear sirens. She ran to the side fence, using the tree near it as a boost. Bark flew and scratched at her cheek, and she whipped her head around.
It was him, the guy from Jirralee, his mirrored sunglasses peering over the last fence as he carefully took aim again, the gun barrel looking long and lethal as he lined her up in his sights.
Darcy dived over the fence, hitting the lawn on the other side at an awkward angle, and pain shot through her shoulder. She hissed and rolled to her feet, finally noticing the stunned family sitting on their back deck eating dinner.
‘Go!’ she yelled, running at them, waving. ‘Get inside, go!’ She didn’t want them caught up in this, didn’t want them injured by a stray bullet – or worse, a well-aimed one.
She didn’t slow down as she ran up the stairs, scooping up the child sitting on the end of the bench seat and running inside the house. The child screamed, the mother screamed, the dad yelled, and they all ran into the house.
‘Lock your doors and call the police,’ she said over her shoulder. Darcy set the child down and kept running, her booted feet thumping along the polished timber floors as she raced through the open-plan kitchen and living room, along the hall, catching brief glimpses of rooms opening off the hall, and then skidded to a halt at the front door.
Her fingers fumbled with the lock, but eventually she swung the door open and burst out onto the front path. She raced to the front gate, flicked the latch and took off running down the street.
The sirens were loud, but she couldn’t see any flashing lights, no cars screeched to a halt. Wherever they were, they weren’t anywhere near to rescue her from the assassin that even now was fumbling with the gate back at the house up the street. God she hoped that family was all right and uninjured. With any luck they were calling the cops, pointing them in her direction.
Sweat running down her face and neck, her arms flapping as she changed direction suddenly, she ran across the street. A fence, the lower half rendered concrete, the upper half a decorative wood-slat trim, caught her eye. One foot on the concrete ledge, she grabbed the top of the fence with both arms, grunting as she climbed up and over. A shot rang out as she tumbled over the top.
Dom looked up in surprise as a radio squawked to life down the hall, then he heard the rapid movement of feet. As one, the police officers ran for the front door, and Dom grabbed at a uniform as he ran past. ‘What’s going on?’
The kids were snoozing on the lounge behind him, and he kept his voice low. He didn’t want to disturb or scare them, but something was obviously happening.
The young cop looked from him to the door, then back again.
‘The vehicle carrying Ms Montgomery has been hit,’ the officer stated quietly, quickly, as Alex and Bern jogged into the room.
‘But – she’s only just left here,’ Dom said, disbelief softening his voice. He looked over at Alex, and for a moment, Alex’s expression was startled, worried, and Dom knew: Darcy was in trouble, big trouble. No. God, no. She just left, she was supposed to be safe, secure. The thought of Darcy hurt in a car accident – or worse – ripped at his self-control. Not Darcy, in her black jeans and black T-shirt and kick-arse black boots, looking all vulnerable and scared. Not the woman who’d gently soothed his daughter’s nightmares, who’d sat patiently with his son, trying to get him to open up about his mother’s death. Not the woman who’d risked her life for his kids.
‘What’s wrong with Darcy?’ Jonah asked, then yawned as he sat up on the lounge.
‘Everything’s all right, son,’ Dom reassured him, pasting a smile on his face. ‘Go back to sleep.’ He felt like he was going to puke, the worry burning a hole in his gut.
Gertrude rose, Roland’s hand under her arm.
Bern turned to his brother. ‘Keys.’
Alex dug in his pocket and tossed his car keys to his brother. ‘I’m coming with.’
‘Me, too,’ Dom stated, already jogging to the door.
‘Stay here, Dom. Be with your family,’ Alex said, grabbing his arm.
Dom stared bleakly at his friend. ‘She is part of my family, Alex.’ He loved her, pure and simple. He was crazy, possibly a masochist. She’d lied to him, stolen from him, had put his family at risk, yet he loved her. Her quiet, genuine smile, her bravery, her courage, her passion. He loved her, and she was in trouble. He looked back at Gertrude, who nodded, her eyes dark with worry.
‘Bring her home, son. Bring her home safe.’
Roland nodded. ‘We’ll look after the kids. Go get Darcy.’
It was all the encouragement he needed, and he raced after the Knight brothers.
CHAPTER
33
Darcy gasped, checking her foot. Half of the heel of her boot was missing. Her eyes widened. He’d only just missed her.
She scrambled to her feet and took off, leaping over the shrubs l
ining the front path and running across the curved drive to the side gate.
The gate shook, and barking, loud and deep, sounded from behind it, and she quickly clambered up, using the gate and wall as footholds. She peered over the top of the gate, and recoiled at the sight of the foaming, ferocious rottweiler on the other side. Great.
She put her foot on the top of the gate and the fence and jumped down to the next property, wincing as she over balanced and fell into the rockery.
She heard a soft grunt behind her. He was climbing over the front fence of the other property. Any minute he’d climb up the gate and she’d be a prime target, waiting to be picked off. She rolled and took off again, sweat dripping into her eyes.
She hurtled around the corner of the house just as another shot echoed down the passage. She screeched as parts of the brick near her head cracked and flew, shards scraping her neck. Holy crap, that was close. And loud. He must have changed guns. God, how many bullets did this man have? How many guns? How long could she keep this up?
She was panting like a first-time aerobics student, her chest heaving, arms shaking. She ran across the backyard. She didn’t think she had the energy to scale another fence. She turned another corner and raced up a side passage, her gait uneven with the lopsided boots. She ignored the screech of the woman washing the dishes at the window as she raced past. It was getting darker now, and she squinted as she ran, halting for a moment to fumble with the gate latch, then slamming the gate behind her.
God, these people were paranoid when it came to security. So many gates, so many damn fences.
She heard another screech. He’d passed the window.
Her shoulders almost sagged when she saw the front fence. Whatever happened to a nice low picket fence?
She dragged one of the large wheelie bins over to the fence and climbed up. She made sure to kick it over as she levered herself over the top. No use making it easy on the guy.
She dropped to the ground at the same time as she heard the gate rattle. Damn, he was fast on his feet. She scurried across the footpath and darted between the parked cars. Bending down low, she ran along the road, making sure the cars stood between her and the persistent bastard with the never-ending arsenal.
Runaway Lies Page 28
