“Easy enough. That’s it?”
“For now. How long will it take?”
“Not long. I’ll call you back. By the way, my rates have gone up since we last did business.”
Greedy bastard. Like he had rates. “Same as last time. You deliver. I’ll pay.”
She gave him the information and hung up. An hour later, he called her back.
“Those plates are reported stolen, and the car is registered to a James Lawson. Lives in California.”
No shit. Sarah, if that was her real name, must be on the run, hiding from the law or an abusive boyfriend. If not, maybe someone had filed a missing person report.
“You there?” Pete asked.
“Yes. I have another job for you.”
“What?”
“If I send you pictures of a woman, can you find out who she is and if she’s reported as a missing person?” Morgan rubbed a finger under her chin.
“Possibly.”
“Start the search in California since that’s where the car was registered.”
“Okay.”
“Get me all the information you can on her. If she so much as farted in public, I want to know. Call me when you have something.” Morgan hung up.
She tapped her phone, and pictures of Sarah walking a horse to the stables appeared. As always, Morgan was one step ahead. She’d taken those shots on a hunch. And now they would come in handy. She forwarded the photos to Pete. Soon enough, she’d have the goods on the meddling little bitch.
Chapter 14
Dirt and dust kicked up as Sarah drove along the path to the house and parked the truck. She stuffed her hat into her purse and eyed Joe, hammering on a fence post near her back door. Praying no one would be in the kitchen, she slipped through the front.
Her unsettled stomach lurched at the scent of chicken and onions cooking. She ran to the sink and gripped the cool, metal tub.
Apparently, the worst of her anxiety wasn’t over yet. With a twist of the knob, she turned on the cold water and splashed a handful on her face. She had to get her emotions under control and figure out her next move. It wouldn’t take long to pack, but she had nowhere to go.
The screen door squeaked, and steps sounded behind her. Heavy steps. Another punch to her gut.
“Sarah?” Bruce’s voice echoed through the kitchen.
Shit. He couldn’t see her like this. She grabbed a paper towel and dried her face.
“We need to talk,” he said.
With her back to him, she concentrated on breathing. She didn’t trust her voice to speak, so she just stood there with the water running.
“Sarah?”
“What?” She managed to squeak out the word. To avoid looking at him, she shut off the spigot, snagged a sponge, and wiped surfaces that didn’t need cleaning.
“I came to ask you about earlier.”
He probably meant when she’d approached him at the farm before Morgan showed up. She had intended to apologize for the stupid comment she’d made about him smelling amazing. That had moved way down on the list of her priorities. She’d be gone by morning, and it wouldn’t take long before Bruce forgot about her altogether.
His boots entered her line of vision. She kept her head down and continued wiping the counter.
“You’re shaking. What’s wrong?”
Of course, he’d notice. She snatched her keys from the counter and stepped past him to the suite, where she fumbled to unlock the door. “Dinner’s ready. Help yourself.”
Bruce’s hand covered hers on the knob.
She stilled. So much for escaping.
He tightened his fingers, pressing her clammy palm against the handle. His breath brushed across the damp skin of her temple. “Let. Me. In.”
A quiet demand.
What she wouldn’t give to have a strong partner to catch her if she fell. Only, this dance had to be a solo, or someone might pay the consequences. You’re my ballerina. I won’t share you with anybody.
Her heart ticked a countdown. She needed to get away before it was too late. “I’m sorry, but I can’t talk to you right now.”
“Too bad, this has gone on long enough,” he said in a not-open-for-debate tone. He slid her hand from the knob and swung open the door.
The front screen slammed, and Joe entered.
Great. Another person to scrutinize her. But he might distract Bruce from his mission to make her talk.
“I have some bad news about your car, Sarah.” Joe wiped a hand on his jeans. “Hmm…something smells awfully good. Is that chicken?”
Alarm zipped through her system. “What do you mean about my car?”
Joe wandered over to the crockpot and peeked through the glass lid. “I was fixing to go home and make a sandwich, but this looks a helluva lot better. I keep forgetting that you make good food. Now, Debbie—”
“What’s wrong with Sarah’s car?” Bruce asked.
Joe squinted at the glass lid. “Are there carrots in there? I can’t see too well with the steam all—”
“Enough with the food. What about the car?” Bruce waved his hands in the air.
“Cripes, take it down a notch. You’re wound tighter than a clock spring.” Joe tapped the lid of the pot and continued his inspection. “It has a hole rusted through the gas tank. Gonna need a new one.”
Sarah’s heart climbed her ribs to her tonsils. She needed that car to leave. “Can I still drive it?”
“Nope. It’s bone-dry. But don’t worry, I got a friend at the junkyard. We can get you a used one for a few bucks. Gotta look for a match, though.”
Oh no. That would take time she didn’t have. Her fingers turned to ice. What might seem cheap to Joe would probably cost more than she could afford.
Bruce frowned and glanced out the window. “How the hell did you know about this?”
Joe shrugged. “Smelled gas and checked it out. Pretty simple.”
“Well, I didn’t smell anything,” Bruce said.
“That’s cuz you got your nose up your—”
“Excuse me.” Sarah stepped to the suite landing and gripped the door handle. Her queasiness had reached critical levels.
Joe looked up. “Hey, hey. This isn’t anything to get upset about. You can drive the truck ’til your car’s fixed. And it won’t cost much cuz Buddy owes me, and I can put it in for you.”
“Th-thanks.” She yanked on the door.
Bruce held a hand out to stop it from closing. “Hold on. We didn’t finish talking.”
“Another time.” God, she needed to be alone.
Joe crossed the room and jerked a thumb at Bruce. “I’d rather eat squirrel turds than take his side, but you don’t look so hot. Maybe you should sit and let Mr. Cranky Pants here get you a drink or something.”
Bruce shot Joe a glare that could wither a grape to a raisin.
Sarah’s stomach heaved. She rushed down the steps and into her bathroom. Taking a deep breath, she leaned back against the wall.
“Are you okay?” Bruce called from outside the bedroom.
The man was nothing if not persistent. “Yeah. Please, just go.”
“Not until I get some answers.”
She forced her rattled brain to focus. He’d said he wanted to discuss what had happened earlier. Maybe if she apologized, he’d leave and she could calm down and form a plan. She smoothed her hair back and made her way to the family room.
Bruce stood at the bottom of the steps with his feet planted wide, arms crossed.
She stopped short of him. If he wanted to talk, she’d talk and scoot him out. “Okay. I’m sorry about the shower comment. That’s what I was going to tell you this afternoon. It was inappropriate, and we have to work together. It won’t happen again.” Her voice rasped from her parched mouth, yet not enough to keep her from babbling. “I mean, I wasn’t wrong about you smelling good, that’s true, but—”
“Sarah.” He took a step closer.
Cripes, nothing she said even made sense. She pointe
d to the stairs, avoiding eye contact. “Can you please go now?”
“Don’t care about your comment. Stop with the smoke screen. Tell me who’s scaring you.”
She couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t tell anyone. She brought a hand to the base of her throat and fingered the small hollow. “I’m just tired.”
“People don’t shake when they’re tired.”
“Well, maybe I do. Please.” She pointed to the stairs again.
He came another step closer. “Staying until I get answers.”
“There aren’t any.” That was the damned truth. No answers. No way out. No escape. No normal life again. She wouldn’t give up, but she refused to drag anyone else into her nightmare.
“I’m done talking. I’ll be in the bedroom.” She tried to walk past him, but he snagged her arm.
“No, you won’t. Who’s scaring you?” His rough voice had an edge of softness. He leaned closer, his deep blue eyes willing her to answer.
“What makes you think someone is?” She glanced at the window over the couch.
“Seriously?” He waved a hand around the room. “The curtains, the locks, the way you come back pale as a ghost after a trip to town. You’re terrified.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with the locks. Joe did that.” The man barely knew her and had gone out of his way to make her feel safe. He’d even offered to fix her car. Greg always stayed a step ahead to make sure he took on the heaviest loads of work. These people at the farm cared about her, and she had to leave before their pictures showed up in a threatening note. Only now, she had no means to get away. A lump the size of a biscuit clogged her throat.
She tapped her foot and kept her gaze on the curtain. Maybe if she held out long enough, Bruce would give up.
“Don’t nitpick about the locks. You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.” She tapped her foot faster, in rhythm with her frenetic pulse.
“Stop lying.”
“Lie? Why would I lie?” Her voice sounded strained, even to herself, like a person with a paper-thin hold on sanity. She attempted to go around him, but he moved in front of her.
“Talk to me.” He placed a gentle hand on her arm.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t discuss it.” She risked a quick glance at him before dropping her gaze. The maniac stalker knew no boundaries. She had to find some way to leave. Her eyes blurred with tears.
“Then I’ll tell you what I think. You’re running.”
Bruce had already figured out too much. She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “You have to go now.”
“No.” He grimaced. “Damn it. This isn’t just about you. Whatever has you this panicked could be a threat to the people at this farm. I won’t let any harm come to my patients or anyone here. Now for the last time, tell me.”
He was right. That’s why she had to go, but now she couldn’t with a broken car. The chill in her fingers traveled through her body. Her shoulders shook from holding back sobs, and she pressed her icy hands to her eyes. Tears seeped from the corners and ran down the inside of her thumbs to her wrists.
Bruce had let go of her arm. Maybe he’d leave. Men hated tears. He’d probably come back later as hell-bent as he was to get to the truth, but she’d have time to figure something out. Right now, that would be breathing. Tiny gasps for air teased her lungs.
“Jesus Christ, you’re gonna suffocate yourself. Come here.”
Bruce pulled her to him.
She pushed her palms against his pecs. “I can’t—”
“Stop arguing with me.” He gazed down at her and tightened his hold.
His warm, strong body encircled hers and drained her energy to fight. She melted against him. Uncontrollable tears rained down her cheeks. She buried her face in his chest and let them flow.
“Relax. You’re safe.”
She shook her head. “I’ll never be s-safe.”
He rubbed her back. “Yes, you will.”
For the next few minutes, she cried and soaked his shirt. Cocooned in his arms, breathing in his clean, masculine scent, for the first time since she’d run, she wasn’t afraid. When her body stopped shaking, and the tears ebbed, he eased back and bent down.
His eyes were soft. Damn if they weren’t gorgeous when he let emotion shine through.
He led her to the couch, grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table, and handed it to her. She dabbed at her wet eyes and blew her nose. He tugged her down next to him. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Bruce had a right to be concerned for the people at the farm. A pitchfork stabbed at her gut. It would be safer if he knew about the whacko out there. She glanced at him.
He nodded. “Trust me.”
She took a shaky breath. “You have to swear not to tell anyone.”
“I won’t.”
“A year ago, this guy started stalking me. I was in the public eye since I performed in the ballet. He wouldn’t stop, so I changed my identity and disappeared.”
“What did he do?” Bruce angled his body to face hers.
“He started with flowers. I figured it was just an avid fan. Then came the notes on the windshield and voice-altered calls.” She rubbed her forehead. “Each communication escalated. Before I left, he sent me pictures of my sisters out in public. Then, after he attacked me—”
“Whoa. Attacked?” Bruce’s eyes widened, and he held up a hand. “Slow down. Tell me everything in order.”
She told him what had happened, leaving out the parts about Mark dumping her and the cops questioning her sanity. None of that made any difference at this point. When she finished, Bruce leaped to his feet and paced.
“That bastard is done. I’ll personally haul his miserable ass down to the station if I don’t kill him first. What’s his name?”
“That’s the problem, we don’t know.”
Bruce fisted his hands. “What’s he look like?”
“I don’t know that either. I’m telling you, there’s nothing you can do. The police have his DNA from the blood samples at my apartment and still can’t figure out who he is.”
“Why not?” Bruce’s face tinged with red.
“He’s not in the database, and they don’t have any suspects.” She held her palms up. “The cops said even if they knew who he was, stalkers don’t spend much time in jail, and when they’re released they start up again.”
“So that’s why you ran?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry. After I got an email from him at the library today, I planned to leave, but now my car is broken, so I can’t.” She swallowed hard and rubbed her hands down her thighs. “I don’t want to bring any danger to anyone here. This is my problem, not yours. I just need to get away as soon as I can, and he’ll leave you all alone.”
Bruce’s blood pressure climbed to the ceiling. Give him one second with that stalker. It all made sense now. The graceful way Sarah moved, her tiny stature but muscular body. The bastard had stolen the passion of her life. And here she was, ready to run again to protect everyone at the farm.
“You’re not going anywhere. This geek is nothing but a coward. Terrorizing a woman with notes, emails, and voice-altered phone calls? He can hide from the cops, but he won’t know what hits him if he shows his face here.”
Sarah looked up at him. A little color had returned to her hollow cheeks. “He’s dangerous because he’s crazy.”
“Well, he’s going to find himself in some serious trouble if I have any say about it.” The tips of Bruce’s ears burned.
“He might already be here. Todd’s acted funny toward me.”
“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I’ll talk to Debbie about—”
“You promised you wouldn’t say anything.” Sarah bolted up.
“Debbie doesn’t need him—”
“No.” She grabbed his arm. “I can’t be responsible for running people off the farm and taking money out of Debbie’s pocket. Please, don’t say anything.�
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He frowned. Shit. A promise was a promise. He’d just have to keep that rich prick on his radar. “All right. For now.”
“Thank you.” She slid her hand to the damp spot on his shirt where she’d cried. “I’m sorry. I ruined this.”
Her gentle caress warmed his skin through the fabric. But more than that, she’d finally opened up to him. Trusted him enough to share her secret despite being frightened.
He placed his hand over hers. “I’m not worried about the shirt.”
Her breath fanned his fingers, and he squeezed hers. So fragile and yet so strong. It had taken courage for her to forge her way across the country alone, afraid through unknown territory.
She raised her gaze. Shades of green shimmered up at him.
God, he wanted her. He started to reach a hand down, but drew it back. Not now. The urge to kiss her almost drowned him, but it wouldn’t be right, and he still had his own issues. Time to leave before his body gave away just how much he wanted her.
He let go of her hand. “Thanks for trusting me. Now I can help you. Are you going to be okay if I go?”
She nodded, but he sensed her hesitation. “If you want me to stay—”
“No.” Her shoulders squared.
He longed to touch her, but he knew it wouldn’t end there. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She nodded again and dropped her gaze.
“Listen.” He waited for her to look up. “You’re safe here. I’ll make sure.”
“As soon as my car’s fixed, I’ll leave. But thank you.” She gave him a sad smile and disappeared into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.
A ball of lead dropped in his stomach.
Like hell.
He mounted the stairs, pushed the door open hard, and strode into the kitchen.
Debbie and Joe were seated at the table drinking coffee. Joe raised his eyebrow, but neither of them asked any questions.
Bruce patrolled the exterior of the suite. Sarah had done a good job. Every window had curtains. With the new locks, she should be safe.
He went back to his truck and climbed up onto the hood. As the sun dropped, clouds promised a colorful sunset. Sarah, closed off from the world, would miss it. Despite everything, the stalker hadn’t crushed her spirit. She continued to fight and survive. He leaned back against the windshield for a moment. This was bullshit. He bounded off the truck, marched to the back door of the suite, and knocked.
Love in Hiding Page 10
