Chapter 6
Cyan watched the man walk away. He reminded her a little of Jonathan. Her old friend had been there for her through the worst times of her life. Jonathan might be an unconventional choice for a friend but it was what it was. Too bad he couldn’t help all that much from a prison cell in Washington State. Hearing his voice always made her feel better. He’d been there when she was a child, scared out of her mind and watching her life unravel. Sure, he’d made mistakes and exchanged his police badge for a prison jump suit, but God had redeemed his life. He was a huge part of the reason Cyan was a believer now.
Nate tugged on her hand. Was he going to let go anytime soon? She had to admit, if only to herself, that she didn’t want him to release her. The night was warm, a breeze blowing salty air along with strands of hair across her face. On any other evening it’d be almost like an actual date. If she ever actually went on one of those.
Cyan was glad he’d let her drop the subject of her falling asleep on the run. Yeah, it was a weird response to stress, but it wasn’t like she could help it. Cyan didn’t especially want to be caught unawares. It had been a testament to Nate’s presence in the boat that she’d rested, knowing he’d tell her if she was in immediate danger.
The truck was in the same state of disrepair as the boat, indicative of its owner. What kind of a name was Boomer? She didn’t even want to know what made a craggy old man with a name like that just hand over his boat…or his truck. Yet another spark of hope in the world tonight. Coupled with Nate’s concern at the club, it made for one very bizarre evening of good versus bad.
Cyan climbed in the rusty truck and reached for her seatbelt…but there wasn’t one. The seat was frayed, and it smelled like gasoline. She put her hands in her lap while the engine fought to fire up. Eventually it coughed to life, sputtering out the back. When Nate started them rolling down the drive, she said, “Where are we headed?”
Once again she was at the mercy of someone she prayed would do the right thing. Not like the epic failure her mom had been. Although that mess had landed them in Sanctuary—the one place in the world Cyan was actually happy. Now she could never go back, and she was the master of her own destiny. Which was going super well.
Nate said, “Well, my place is out. They’ll look for you at yours, even if the police are still there.” His jaw worked back and forth. “I have a little cash. How about one night in a hotel, on me?”
Cyan sighed. “My wallet is in your house, along with my phone. Which at this point probably isn’t a bad thing except for the fact I won’t know when Steve calls back.” She couldn’t be tracked, but she wanted her guitar. Dragging it along with her on the run wasn’t practical. Not that she cared too much. She’d spent her first real big check on that guitar, and it’d been with her ever since.
Now that she’d told her manager that she wanted out of the music business, things were supposed to be better. Not that she had a plan. The one time she’d spoken to a church about their music program they’d Googled her and found the stories—antics detailed in newspaper articles that weren’t even true, but they’d still caused the pastor to write her off. So much for grace. Apparently some people didn’t understand it.
God, what does this SD card have to do with my future? I need a job, not a new life on the run. This can’t be Your plan.
If her mom hadn’t signed her out of Sanctuary, she could have stayed. Made her own way in the town, maybe taken some college classes. It would have been weird after she’d given Matthias his ring back, but she would have been happier than this life trying to live out her mom’s dreams.
Cyan sighed. “Those men are going to find us again, aren’t they?”
Nate gripped the steering wheel. “So long as we don’t use credit cards and we stay off the radar we have a good chance of hiding. If I get us a room somewhere tonight, we can rest. Tomorrow I’ll find a phone. My brother will know what to do and how to find out if Daire is okay.”
Cyan didn’t have any problem with Grant Mason being involved. The man was a career federal marshal, and if they needed anyone’s help, then she would rather it was someone she already knew to be trustworthy. He could get a message to Steve.
Cyan closed her eyes, resting her head on the headrest. The creepy guy from the office stared at her from behind her eyelids. From the shore behind Nate’s house he’d aimed his gun and pretended to fire. His intention was clear, he was coming for her. Could they hide well enough that creepy guy and the people who wanted the SD card wouldn’t find them?
She turned then, looking back out the cloudy window. “Huh.”
A low rumble preceded an orange glow that lit the sky, flames flicking up in a column.
“That’s weird. It looks like it’s coming from…”
Nate slowed the truck then looked back as well. “Boomer’s house.”
He looked at her, dread in his eyes. “Did they find him?”
Cyan let her sluggish brain catch up. “Or they came after us, and Boomer blew his house up?”
“It’s probably full of old explosives. Maybe it was an accident.”
“Do you really believe that?”
**
The motel was what Nate expected for eighty bucks and no ID, no questions asked. But it had cable, so he settled on the bed and flicked through movie channels and sports channels looking for a news report, watching for Boomer’s sooty face cracked in a smile going on about how he’d bested a bunch of amateurs.
Cyan drifted around, looking but mostly not touching. It was becoming familiar having her with him, even if they were running for their lives. Tied together in no other way than they’d simply been in the same place at the same time.
“Should we try and call the police from here? Or my friend or your brother?” She cocked her head to the side. “Maybe too much has happened not to tell the police what’s going on. If we don’t tell them where we are and what we know about my apartment, your house, and the explosion, then they’re probably going to think it’s suspicious that we’ve disappeared.”
Nate sat up. “If you want to call them from here or find a payphone and meet them somewhere else, that’s fine with me.”
“Why would you suggest that? Do you not want the police to come here?”
“I have no problem with the police. That’s not what this is. I know some great cops, but my brother Grant is a professional, and my other brother is Daire’s boss. I’d like Grant to handle this, if he can. I have to really watch what is said about me in public. Yes, we walked away from an altercation and then two break-ins, plus whatever that explosion was. Not big stuff, but there’s an outside chance legally this could get sticky for us.”
Nate didn’t need more bad publicity on top of the problems he already had.
She looked at him for a second and then said, “Do you think we should give the SD card to the police?”
“You trust them?”
Cyan stilled. “I don’t think I want to just hand over the SD card to anyone. Not when it’s proof that we’re not responsible for any of this. We were only there; we were only witnesses. They’re going to think we’re hiding something as it is, given we ran away.”
“You were being chased. Daire should have dealt with the men and then waited for the cops, but we know they caught him instead. I wonder how they got him out of there or if someone else in the club even called the police.” He scrubbed his hands down his face then lifted his head and shot her a smile. “Sorry you’re stuck with a football player who isn’t very good at this.”
Cyan leaned against the TV unit. “I’ve been in worse situations with less qualified people.” She looked like she wanted to say more but didn’t. Or couldn’t.
“Maybe one day you could tell me about it.”
Her brow flickered. “You think we could—I don’t know—be friends or something, after tonight?”
She wasn’t like any of the women he’d ever met. Football groupies, gold-diggers. Women who demanded everything, unashamedly ass
uming he’d been put on this earth to give everything he had to make their lives easier. He’d been tired of it for a long time. Cyan was like a breath of cinnamon-scented air.
Nate nodded. “I’d like that.”
“Me too.” Her cheeks flushed and she turned aside, studying the motel phone like it was magically going to ring.
Nate grabbed Boomer’s phone from the nightstand. “I’ll make my call now instead of waiting until the morning, if you want me to.”
She nodded without looking at him. Tall, not too slender. It seemed like if he pulled her against him, her head would fit perfectly under his chin. And he wanted to try it. Maybe when this was over, when they were friends, he’d be able to do that. For once in his life he was spending time with a woman who viewed him as a partner and not just a wallet or a toned body.
The phone rang and rang, eventually going to voicemail. “It’s Nate. Call me when you get this.”
He hung up and dialed Grant’s home number instead, since it was the weekend.
A groggy Genevieve, Grant’s wife, answered. “Yes?”
“It’s Nate.” He’d known her practically his whole life. Genevieve had always been with Grant, first as friends and eventually as a couple and married—then as the parents of Nate’s three gorgeous nieces.
“Hey, kiddo.” There was a smile in her voice. “Grant is out for the weekend.”
He looked at his watch. “Sorry I woke you. Out of town, or out of contact?”
“Both.”
“Okay.” Nate smiled at the sleepy sound of her voice. “Go back to sleep, Gen.” His sister-in-law hung up, and Nate looked at Cyan, feeling the remnant of the smile on his face. “My brother is out of town, which is a serious bummer. I don’t think he’s going to be able to help us tomorrow. Maybe even not until Monday.” He sobered. “I’m going to call Ben.”
“Ben?”
“My other brother.”
“You have two brothers?”
Nate smiled. “Three, all older than me. One sheriff, one US marshal, and Ben works freelance security.” At least as near as Nate could explain Ben.
The phone rang twice. When he answered, the background noise was immense. Ben yelled over the sound. A helicopter? “This better be good.”
Two gunshots went off in rapid succession.
Nate said, “I can call you back.”
Ben’s voice came back breathy. “Nate? Talk.”
More gunshots.
“Mimi was present at the attempted kidnapping of a woman by someone I don’t know, who wants the woman and an SD card of evidence. I have both.”
“Where’s Daire?”
“They have him.”
“Cherry?”
“Yes.” The code word Daire had used meant everything was fine and Nate didn’t need to find and help him. And yet he still wanted to.
Silence. Then, “Can you call Grant?”
Nate said, “He’s on vacation.”
“Email the contents of the SD card to Grant and copy me in. As soon as you know something about Daire, call me. The minute I’m free of this, I’ll make a call. Everything else okay?”
“Yes.” He had at least another day before he needed to make his weekly scheduled Skype call with his nephew. Aside from that, there was nothing pressing. And what did that say about Nate’s life?
Ben’s end of the phone quieted. “I’m doing something for John, so I can’t get to you right now or I’d be there.”
“I know.” The president and his wife had been killed a couple of weeks ago, in connection with the WITSEC town John was the sheriff of. Now John was protecting the president’s daughter, and Ben was searching for her husband—a Navy SEAL—so they could then find the president and first lady’s killers. Nate couldn’t justify pulling him off that, even given what was happening with Cyan.
It helped that Ben wanted to be there, though. His brothers had always been quick to come to his rescue…when they weren’t the ones giving him a hard time. “Keep me posted.”
Nate said, “You do the same.”
Chapter 7
After the nap she’d had in the boat, Cyan barely slept. The distracting man snoring softly in the other bed hadn’t helped. The next morning they hit a drive thru fast food place for a quick breakfast and super sugary coffee, and then headed to the library to email the contents of the SD card to Nate’s brothers. He’d explained that much to her, and if she was getting help from the director of the Marshals, then Cyan figured she couldn’t ask for better.
Some of the times she’d felt the safest were when US Marshals showed up. Or when Jonathan had held her hand when she was four. She remembered his big, rough hand and the cold winter night in Spokane that December. Christmas, and she’d spent it in protective custody with her mom. Two days later they’d been flown to the WITSEC town of Sanctuary.
She’d never seen Jonathan after that. Not even after she and her mom left Sanctuary and Cyan had looked him up. Once the best kind of police officer, Jonathan had made a tragic mistake he was now paying for in jail. He’d told her all about it in his letters, about how God had saved him—just not from the consequences of his actions. For the first time in her life, grace had made sense. From a prisoner to a girl who had always felt trapped no matter where she was. Cyan hadn’t known freedom until Jonathan told her about the love of God.
Now her life was crumbling again, and she wasn’t afraid. God would see her through this, no matter how crazy it got.
“Where now?”
Cyan glanced at Nate, who was driving again—what was it with guys that they always had to drive?—and then at the street they were on. “We’re going to the library.”
“Okay, is it left or right?”
She blinked. “You don’t know where the library is?”
Nate’s lips curled up at the corners, flashing a dimple. “Is this a deal-breaker on our friendship?”
Cyan lifted her chin, fighting the smile that wanted out. “It might be.”
Could she honestly trust someone who didn’t even know where the library was? Even if he had all the money in the world to buy whatever books he wanted, he should still at least have a working knowledge of how to borrow one.
“Left and then left again.” She pointed at the next set of lights.
Nate parked at the far corner of the lot and pulled on the baseball cap that’d been laying on the floor of the truck. Walking around with the Dolphins logo on his head probably wasn’t a great idea, but Cyan figured he couldn’t wear another team’s hat. His head would probably catch on fire.
Cyan signed in under her library card number, figuring that was probably safe from bad guy surveillance, and then headed to an available computer. The library was kind of crowded, but it was mostly a group of moms and little kids probably here for story time. No one else looked suspicious or glanced overlong at them.
Nate sat while she pulled the SD card out and slid it in its slot on the tower. He squinted and leaned closer, grumbling.
Cyan pulled up the chair next to him and whispered, “What?”
“I should’ve brought my glasses.”
“Oh.” She grinned.
Nate set the cell phone by the keyboard and finger-pecked his way to his email inbox in twice the time it would have taken Cyan—that might also be a deal-breaker. Who didn’t know how to type? Two boys zoomed around them play-acting like they were planes, despite their mom’s attempts to keep them quiet. One of the boys stopped and peered at Nate.
“Nate Mason!” He sucked in a breath and yelled, “Mom, its Nate Mason!”
Everyone turned to look. Cyan groaned, but they were pretty much busted. Half the moms had their phones out, ready to snap a picture.
Nate stood, hands up. “Ladies. I haven’t even fixed my hair.” He chuckled, and they all laughed with him, charmed by his Mason good looks. She remembered that much about Grant, though their personalities were really different. The same was probably true for the sheriff and the brother who was helping them.<
br />
Nate leaned down to the boy who’d recognized him. “You like football, kid?”
“Football!” The boy held up a picture book. On the front was a pig in a football uniform and helmet.
Nate smiled. “Awesome.”
“Uh…uh...” The kid swallowed, thinking through what he was about to say in that way little kids had. “Maybe you could…uh, read for story time?”
“You know what?” Nate said. “That sounds like a great idea.” Cyan gaped, but he touched her shoulder and leaned down. “I’ll give you some space and be back in a few minutes when you’re done. That sound good?” His eyes flicked to the screen for a second.
Cyan followed his gaze to where he’d already entered two email addresses on the new message. Right. “Thanks.”
The unmistakable click of cell phone cameras caught that split second while they looked at each other, and then Nate straightened, breaking the moment. “Okay, kids. Lead the way.”
The hoard of small children dragged him to a corner of cushy couches where they settled around him—some of them sitting on him—and Nate started to read the book.
Cyan turned back to the computer. She sent the pictures as a zip file, which thankfully didn’t take long.
Nate’s phone vibrated on the table.
Daire.
Cyan hit the button on top and cut off the call. She didn’t want to listen to threats, not when out of the corner of her eye she could see Nate talking intently with a group of preschoolers while their moms took pictures. There was no way she was going to invite danger, or murderers, to the library. She also wasn’t going to risk saying the wrong thing to whoever was on the phone and getting him hurt more. Or had it been Daire calling because he was free? Maybe she should’ve answered it.
The phone didn’t ring again, so whoever was calling wasn’t desperate to get a hold of Nate, or her.
Now she didn’t know what the right move was.
Cyan did what anyone did when they didn’t know what else to do. She went on Facebook. It wouldn’t take long for Nate’s presence at story time to go viral. Would the creepy guy and the men who were after her, or that woman, Mimi, see it?
Team Love on the Run Box-Set #1 Page 22
