by V. R. Marks
This time the names, preferences, and profession would be of her choosing. She smiled into the rear view mirror, master of her fate once more.
The smile turned to a wince as she pushed the key into the ignition. The movement aggravated the wounds the panicked Oscar had inflicted.
The medical assistance nearby was tempting, but would only reduce her head start – or completely prevent her escape. Whether or not she made the call, she knew someone would be dispatched as soon as the address of the fire made it up the chain of command. Once she was away she could risk a visit to a drug store to deal with the cleanup.
She bid a silent farewell to Mrs. Beaumont and Oscar, and drove away from the scene.
Catching sight of a couple of kids sporting gang colors in the parking lot, she didn't go directly to the train station or even a motel. She drove carefully through the neighborhood and took a turn around a nearby shopping mall before joining the light traffic on the Interstate.
As best as she could tell, no one was following her. Of course, the powers that be had likely tagged her car with GPS and she knew they could do the same with her phone, no matter that she'd turned down the service when she'd bought the thing.
But after all this time being compliant and cooperative, those magicians who controlled her life would surely underestimate her determination to be free of them, regardless of the personal risk.
A small voice in her head told her this was a ridiculous mistake, insisted she was throwing away a steady, secure life on a whim. She told the voice to shut up, but it persisted in reminding her that to take this step, to push on down this path, meant justice might never be served.
"To hell with the system," she said aloud as she took the ticket at the airport long-term parking garage.
She'd forfeited more than any one person should for the sake of justice in a case that no federal attorney felt any rush to pursue. Well, she'd had enough with their excuses and the rigors of their programs. None of it would bring back her mother and her sister. Nothing they did now would restore everything she'd lost along the way.
Retrieving the card and cash from the floor of the car, she grabbed her purse. She was tempted to leave behind her wallet and everything with her current name in it, but decided that would only tip her hand. Instead, she locked the car and hurried toward the terminal as if she was running late for her flight.
Passing the trash bin near the stairs, she tossed in her cell phone and car keys. Mentally, she crossed her fingers they'd assume kidnapping and spend precious time chasing down the wrong leads.
* * *
From his parking space two rows away, Rick checked his phone for any reply from the office. Where the hell was Eva with the details when he needed her?
He knew Nicole hadn't come to the airport to make a previously scheduled flight. And no one meeting an incoming flight would choose the long term parking garage.
She was up to something, running scared if he was reading the signals correctly.
He turned off his phone and slid it into his jacket pocket as he stepped out of his car. At the trunk, he checked his pistol, hoping he wouldn't be forced to toss the convenient Hi-point 9mm compact pistol and the .22 revolver at his ankle in order to pass through airport security. Slipping the backpack over one shoulder, he closed the trunk lid and used the key fob to lock the car.
He used his phone as a flashlight to check the trash can and a cold curiosity settled in the pit of his stomach when he saw her keys and cell phone. That kind of behavior signaled a rather permanent change was in the works.
Why?
He picked up his pace, worried about losing her. That was a report he didn't care to send to his boss. RC Investigations hadn't failed yet, and Rick didn't intend to start now, even if this was currently an unofficial, peripheral inquiry.
He spotted her at a ticketing kiosk and made his way to stand in line at a different airline while he watched her.
With her dark expression and large purse, she gave every indication of being a harried business traveler whose reservation had gone missing.
He stayed in line when she stepped away from the kiosk. Remained there while she paced to the wide windows overlooking the unloading area and rummaged through her purse for a phone he knew wasn't there.
He gave her points for performance and scanned the crowd wondering who she hoped to fool.
The cameras, it had to be. No one else was too interested in her. Did she have reason to be this paranoid, or had she just been watching too many crime dramas on television? Nothing she'd done this evening lined up with behavior he expected from a media packaging professional with a photography hobby.
When she exited the terminal, he counted to five before he followed.
"Cameras are still on you," he muttered, catching sight of her crossing to the taxi stand. She wasn't doing herself any real favors here. Ditching the car was smart, maybe, but taxis could be easy to track with all the numbers and security upgrades.
She was clearly trying to get away from something or someone and he felt inexplicably compelled to help her.
When she reached for the door of the next cab in line, he threw a shoulder into the back of the businessman behind her. The guy tripped off the curb and into the cab as his cell phone went skittering to the pavement. Ticked off and confused, he clearly didn't know whether to save the phone or attack Rick.
Rick helped him make up his mind with a right cross to the jaw. "That's my girl!" He grabbed Nicole's wrist, pushing her toward the front of the cab. Her eyes went wide with recognition, then panic. "She's with me."
As he'd hoped, he suddenly had his hands full with a chivalrous Mr. Business. The man glanced at Nicole who shook her head denying the claim, then he lunged for Rick.
"You're crazy! Leave her alone!"
Rick released Nicole, taking the hard shove, and stumbling back. He grabbed the guy's lapels and took him along as they bounced against the cab and caromed off of other bystanders until the crowd was simply a writhing mob of irritable, defensive humanity.
Perfect.
Security would be here any second and no one would have any kind of coherent story to tell.
He shouted more possessive nonsense in his best imitation of a jealous drunk and kept them stirred up until he saw the flash of the cab's turn signal. Before the vehicle eased into traffic, he rushed forward and jumped inside.
Crouched on the floorboards, Nicole stared up at him in wide-eyed panic. "Stop! Help!"
Rick caught the cabbie's eye in the mirror and flashed his badge. "Keep going," he ordered. "I'm her protective detail."
"That's –"
"Enough of your tricks for one day, I agree. Stay down."
"But –"
"We have been through this time and again, your highness," he added, hoping to distract the cabbie. It worked. Rick smothered a grin. Between the cabbie's arched brows and Nicole's stupefaction, he figured his performance was right on target. "My apologies for the scuffle."
"Uh. No problem," the cabbie replied. "Still headed for the train station?"
Nicole gave a tiny, pleading nod.
"No." Her scowl gave him fair warning she wasn't ready to give up. "One moment." Rick checked his phone and then gave the address of a mid-rate motel across town. Respectable area, easy access to the interstate and most importantly, within walking distance of a 24-hour shopping center. They both needed to get rid of their smoky clothes.
"Do you have a camera in this cab?"
"It doesn't work."
Rick raised an eyebrow and held up a twenty dollar bill.
The cabbie shrugged. "It's monitored at the barn. Sorry."
Rick sighed. He had to hope the distraction bought them time. From who or what was the question.
He studied the woman on the floor. "Better if you stay down."
She sneered. "Who are you? What are you doing?"
"My job," he answered honestly, giving her a look that told her to play along. Leaning down, he added, "I
promise you're safe."
After another moment's hesitation, she wriggled out of her hiding place. Her jacket gapped, giving him a good look at her blood-stained shirt.
"You're hurt."
"I'm fine." She tugged the jacket closed but the pain twisting her features was unmistakable.
Rick's breath stalled, his mind full of the horrible image of a different woman, her face lax and colorless, her white blouse stained with crimson. "H-hospital," he rasped.
"Absolutely not." She glared at him. "I'll clean it up later."
Rick dragged himself out of the terrible memory and blamed his unexpected reaction on the lack of sleep from tailing Nicole. Had to be that simple. Because he'd put those awful details out of his head years ago, tucking the memories, both good and bad, into a box where no one could use them against him.
Rick turned his attention back to the immediate task. When the cabbie took the exit, Rick instructed him to let them out at the shopping center instead of the motel. They needed every advantage and he wasn't taking any more chances until he had more information.
He paid cash for the fare and included a hefty tip, and turned down the offer for a receipt. His boss wasn't the sort to argue about expense reports.
With his arm draped across her shoulders he escorted Nicole into the discount super store, making sure their heads were averted as they passed the likely placement of cameras. In ideal circumstances he'd do this alone, but he didn't trust her to stick around if he parked her in a motel room.
"First stop is first aid, then clothing."
"I'm not staying with you."
He smiled as if she'd just professed her undying affection. "Of course you are." He ran his hand over her hair and then turned abruptly to the vast selection of bandages and antibiotic creams. Anything to banish the feel of that lovely silk under his fingertips and mute the sudden urge to keep touching her. "Whatever you're running from, I can help you."
Her brief laugh was brittle and edgy. "No. You can't."
"I already have." He nudged her jacket open and reassessed the contents of their cart. "Twice." He winked at her. "In case you weren't counting."
"Who are you and why are you following me?"
"Call me Rick. I'm a friend of a friend. When Allie got in trouble, they sent me to check on you." It was true enough.
"Prove it."
"Call my office." He handed her a business card.
"I don't have a phone."
He offered his, but she waved it off. "Where is she?"
"Haleswood." The fight went out of her immediately and relief softened her features, warming her deep brown eyes. He didn't want to be attracted to her, but couldn't seem to shut it down.
She gripped his arm with both hands. "Is she okay?"
"Yes." Rick cleared his throat. "My boss is on her case. She couldn't be in better hands. Unless they were mine," he added, wiggling his brows so she'd relax. It had a limited effect, but anything was an improvement.
He guided her to the next aisle so she could grab a few essentials and then they breezed quickly through racks of clothing so she could replace her ruined shirt and stained jeans.
He was getting antsy being in the store for so long, but he didn't want to give the person on the register any reason to remember them. "Let's run through a couple grocery aisles and we're out of here."
She shot him an odd look, but cooperated. He really should have mentioned Allie's name earlier. It might have saved him a few bruises from the brawl at the cab stand.
Chapter 2
As they shopped, Nicole found herself thinking about the stinging pain from her wounds in a lame attempt to get her mind off of Rick's warm hands and the kindness in his eyes. But he was acting. They both were, even if neither of them understood their real roles.
She should ditch him at the earliest opportunity. Demand his credentials. He had been helpful. Maybe a stranger was exactly the type of intervention she needed to evade her troubles. Except danger felt like a lousy way to reward someone. As soon as someone spotted her with him, his life would never be the same. So far he hadn't let her get more than an arm's length away, as if he knew she wanted to bolt.
By the time they reached the register, she was almost used to Rick's looming presence and constant physical contact. Almost.
He only had a couple of inches on her 5'11', but something in the swagger made him seem taller. His short sandy-brown hair wasn't quite military issue and while it should have made him average and forgettable, there was something about him. Something capable and dangerous lurking just under the surface of that affable expression he had on his face.
From the moment he'd first put his arm around her she'd fought the urge to burrow into his broad chest and sob out all the injustices she'd been dealing with.
How he kept that easy smile on his face when he snapped out orders under his breath was a mystery. Even if he was helping Allie – something she intended to confirm with her friend – she wasn't about to let down her guard completely.
He paid the bill with cash, and handed her one of the plastic bags. Putting the others in one hand, he slid his arm around her once more and gave her waist a little squeeze.
Three. That was three times he'd made that particular move. She shouldn't know that. Shouldn't care. He was acting, playing a part for the omnipresent security cameras.
She had to lose him. Had to get to her next stash so she could be herself again.
His arm tensed, pulling her body closer to his and yanking her thoughts away from how best to ditch him.
She glanced up, forced her lips into a smile. "What?"
"You're a quick study." He kissed her nose as if they'd been together for years rather than a couple of hours. "I like that."
"Oh." The blast of cool night air eased the sudden rush of heat in her cheeks.
"We're going to stroll to the motel as if we have all the time in the world. Okay?"
She nodded, turning with him toward the main road.
"And we're going to ignore that police car."
"Right."
"If we're stopped, let me do the talking."
"You must be an excellent dancer." She grinned at his confused frown. "You certainly like to lead, that's all."
He laughed, softly, but she felt it rumble into her, around her, everywhere his body touched hers. She shivered.
His palm flexed on her waist. Four.
"We're almost there."
She nodded. Better that he assumed she was shivering from cold rather than desire. Maybe she should have dated more, let herself get serious with someone. Her outrageous feelings had to be a simple matter of adrenaline and relationship drought.
"Not this one?" she asked as he strolled by the closest motel. It was the least expensive of the three chains she could see.
"I've got a membership with that one," he said.
"You're thinking about points?"
"They add up," he replied with an unrepentant grin that had her pulse skipping.
At the front desk, she suspected his choice had more to do with ease of check-in than reaching the next level of perks.
"We'll need a rental car in the morning."
"Yes, sir." The attendant started tapping on his keyboard. "Any preference?"
"Mid-size is fine."
"It will be waiting."
"I want your travel perks plan," she said when they were in the elevator.
"It is handy," Rick agreed, leaning back against the opposite wall. "We'll get in and clean you up and then you can tell me what you're running from."
She agreed with the first part. "When I've talked with Allie."
He made a non-committal grunt as the elevator opened on their floor. She followed him to the room, surprised to walk into a large suite.
"Nice."
"Perks." He set the plastic shopping bags onto the table and dumped his backpack into one of the chairs. "And it was the best way to get two beds without raising eyebrows."
She raised he
r own in reply, earning a grin from him. He signaled for her plastic bag and she handed it over, but hung on to her purse.
"Let's get you into the shower."
"I beg your pardon."
The grin took on a decidedly wicked edge. "I thought you might need help with the jacket and blouse."
"I'll be fine," she snapped.
"Got it." He held his palms up in surrender. "Go on. You'll feel better when you get the smoke off."
True. "You can go first."
"No thanks. I've got calls to make." He waved her on and turned his attention to his phone.
This wasn't the time to make her move. Resigned, she went into the bathroom, locked the door, and had a girlish moment just enjoying the luxury of her surroundings. The towels were plush, the shower enormous, and the Jacuzzi tub too, too tempting.
Trying to think clinically, she sniffed at the citrus-scented bath products and placed them in the shower.
The mirrors reflected her wince as she removed her jacket and she let out shocked cry when she saw her blood-soaked shirt.
"What's wrong?"
Her mouth dropped open as Rick stormed in. "I-I locked that." Her gaze followed his as he took in the bloody mess. She couldn't believe it was this bad.
"Oh hell. Are you afraid of blood?"
"Only my own." Her vision dimmed. Everywhere she looked she saw a bloody version of herself.
"Close your eyes," Rick ordered. He caught her as she swayed, and cradled her face close to his chest.
He'd seen the way her shirt was matted to her wounds and quickly considered the options. "Keep 'em closed."
"Got it."
He turned her toward the shower stall. "You'll go a couple steps, then into the shower."
"What?"
He pressed a towel to her face when her eyes flew open. "Relax. You've got to clean up. It will hurt less if you let the shower soak off that shirt."
"Oh."
Even muffled by the towel, he heard the fear in her voice, making him all the more determined to get through this with field-medic efficiency.
"Stand still and keep your eyes covered if you can't keep them closed." Her hands replaced his, holding the towel to her face. "I'm just turning on the water." With one hand on her arm, he reached in and turned the faucet on.
