Reece muttered a curse. “But now the decoy is dead, and it’s only a matter of time until whoever’s after her finds out they didn’t get the right woman.”
“Exactly. I need to know where this woman was shot, because I bet Sage is holed up nearby. The police are not going to cooperate with me on this. Pretty sure the first cop on the scene is eyeing me for the murder.”
Reece groaned. “You don’t just step in a pile of shit, do you? Oh, no. You jump in with both fucking feet.” He heaved a sigh. “Tell me where you are, and I’ll see if I can hack into the local PD’s computer system. And, Vaughn, I’m breaking all kinds of laws here, so she better be worth it.”
“She is.” No hesitation. Those two words were the most natural response ever because she was his match in every way—she was his Shelby, his Eva, his Libby. “Yeah,” he added more softly. “She’s worth it to me.”
“All right,” Reece said. “Give me a half hour.”
As Vaughn ended the call, he realized he was shaking with the after-burn of adrenaline and fear. He didn’t usually let himself react to fear. He’d conditioned it out of himself, but in the moments he’d thought Sage was dying on that stretcher…
Yeah. He’d never been more afraid of anything in his life.
He had to find her again.
…
Something had happened across the street.
Sage parted the blinds over the motel’s window and peeked out at the gas station parking lot where only hours ago, she’d given her clothes to a blonde homeless woman who was close to her size and build. Now the lot was cordoned off with police tape, and the street was clogged with patrol cars.
She had a sinking feeling she knew what had happened, and if she was right, giving the woman her clothes had cost that woman her life. But—no. She wouldn’t think about it. Couldn’t. If she lost focus now, she’d end up just like the homeless woman.
She had to lie low for a few days. Thanks to a donation from Vaughn’s wallet, she had enough cash to stay in this motel for a week if need be, then she’d make her way to Atlanta. It wasn’t ideal, wasn’t where she’d hoped to land, but she’d make the best of it. Find a new name, a job, and in a couple of months, when she had enough money squirreled away, she’d head west again.
Alone.
Her heart twisted, and she dropped the blind, shook her head at herself for the stupid thought. Of course she’d be alone. She’d been alone all along. Vaughn was working for the very people who wanted her dead. He didn’t care about her.
God, that hurt.
Why did it hurt so bad?
She dashed away tears she didn’t want to cry and checked the time on the bedside alarm clock. Time to say good-bye to Sage Evans for good. Thanks to L’Oreal, the new her would have hair the color of rich mahogany after she rinsed the dye out in the shower. Once she settled in Atlanta, she planned to buy extensions to lengthen the short bob until her hair grew out again. Maybe she’d find herself some colored contacts to turn her blue eyes brown.
She’d fade into obscurity, disappear, and this time, she’d make sure Vaughn couldn’t find her.
God. Vaughn. What had she been thinking? She’d opened up to him. Come close to letting him see the real her. The part of her identity she couldn’t let anyone but herself see. How was she supposed to disappear if she wasn’t committed to staying invisible?
She checked that the door was locked and chained shut, then went into the bathroom and stripped off the sweatshirt and yoga pants she’d bought at the same drugstore where she’d found her new hair color. She started the shower, tested the water, and stepped under the spray. Water sluiced down her body, carrying away dye as red as blood and pooling in the tub around her feet. She shut her eyes—didn’t want to see it—and scrubbed at her scalp with the entire bottle of the motel’s complimentary shampoo.
It took a while to get all of the dye out of her hair, and the water started to run cool. She shut it off, climbed from the tub, but kept her back to the mirror until she had a towel wrapped around her head. She didn’t hurry to dry off, took her time because she wasn’t ready to face her new reflection yet.
This part of swapping identities always made her nervous. Not because she might screw up her hair—any mistakes she made could always be fixed—but because she never knew who would be staring back at her in the mirror when she got out of the shower. She was afraid that one of these times, she wouldn’t recognize the reflection, and then she’d have truly lost herself. She didn’t want that. Although she could never go back to the girl she used to be, she didn’t want to lose the core of herself, either.
Finally, she was dry and had no reason to put it off any longer. She faced the mirror, sucked in a deep breath and held it as she untwisted the towel from around her head.
She was…still her.
Maybe it was silly to always expect a stranger, but the relief at seeing herself was overwhelming and left her a little lightheaded. She let out a ragged sigh, gripped the edge of the sink, and blinked back tears.
How many more times would she have to do this? How many more times could she take? She barely remembered who she’d been before this all started, and every change was harder than the last. She was tired, but she couldn’t stop. The day she stopped running was the day she died.
She straightened and gazed at herself in the mirror again, speared her fingers through the damp spikes of her hair. The color was lighter than she wanted, an eye-catching red-purple rather than brown with deep red undertones, but it’d have to do for now. She’d let it air dry, let her natural wave do its thing, and once she had the colored contacts and maybe some fake glasses, nobody would recognize her as either Sage Evans or Lark Warren.
But who was she now?
She’d bought a newspaper at the drug store for the express purpose of mining the obituary section for a new name. It’d be easier to find a name if she had internet access, but she had to take what she could get.
She opened the bathroom door and stumbled backward a step in surprise. Vaughn lounged in the chair by the window, the newspaper spread open on the rickety table in front of him.
“So what’s your name now?” he said casually, as if asking about the weather. He glanced up at her, then consulted the paper again. “You don’t look like a Dorothy or Eugenia. Oh, here we go. Hazel A. Woods.” He gave an exaggerated wince. “It’s kind of an unfortunate name, but it fits your pattern.”
She crossed her arms in front of her, keenly aware she wore only a towel. “I’m not telling you. How did you get in here?” She looked at the door, saw the chain hanging broken from the wall. Of course. Vaughn Wilde didn’t know the meaning of the word finesse.
Slowly, he unfolded his long body from the chair. “Why did you run?”
She stepped back as he took a step forward, but she had nowhere to go and they both knew it. She was trapped.
“You’re a liar. You work for him.”
“I don’t work for anybody but my brothers.” He slid another step toward her.
She backed up again and banged her shoulder on the bathroom doorjamb. “Then explain why the hell Giuseppe Bellisario has your phone number!”
He stopped short halfway across the room, and his eyes widened, then narrowed. “Jesus. Is that who you’re running from? The Bellisario family?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and turned her face away, because his expression of surprise was too realistic, too compelling, and she couldn’t risk trusting this man. She’d already come too close once. “Like you don’t already know.”
“No, I honestly don’t,” he said, and God, she wanted to believe he was telling the truth. “Sage, I don’t work for Bellisario. I only landed on his radar a few days ago because I’m a fucking idiot and got involved in one of his underground fight rings. He wants to hire me for a job, but I’ve been ducking him.”
It sounded like the truth, but if there was one thing she’d learned while running for her life, it was that lies often did. “You’ve
been ducking him?” she said doubtfully and gave a humorless laugh. “That’s dangerous.”
“No shit. That’s why we were run off the road. He was sending me a message.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Why not, hmm?” He was so close now, she felt the heat of his body. The clean scent of soap and male wrapped around her as he caged her against the wall. “Have I ever been less than truthful with you?”
She shut her eyes, breathed out softly. “No.”
“Then why do you think I’d start lying to you now?”
“Giuseppe has a lot of money.”
“Oh, vixen.” He cupped her head in both of his hands, tangled his fingers in the hair at her temples. The corner of his mouth kicked up in a smile as he gave her head a little shake. “If I wanted money, I wouldn’t be a PI. I sure as hell wouldn’t have been a SEAL. Money doesn’t motivate me.”
She met his gaze. Saw anger there, yes, but also something else. Something like…fear. Was he afraid for her? “Then what does motivate you?”
Instead of answering, he leaned in and captured her lips.
Chapter Fourteen
He kissed her with a tenderness she’d never experienced before from him—or anyone—and tears flooded her eyes.
He drew back mere centimeters, their lips almost still touching, and thumbed away her tears before kissing her again. While her brain didn’t want to risk trusting him, her heart was all for it. She clung to him, pulled him closer, needing his body against hers.
But he wasn’t in a hurry.
His kisses were sweet, lingering, as he backed her toward the bed. He gently sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and heat surged straight to her core. The backs of her knees hit the bed.
Oh God, she wanted nothing more than to sink down onto that mattress with him and lose herself in sensation for a little while. And because she wanted it so badly, she flattened her hands on his chest and gave him a little push.
“Vaughn.” Her voice cracked on his name. “Stop.”
He stared down into her eyes for a long moment, searching for…something. At last, he heaved out a breath and stepped back. “If that’s what you want.”
She didn’t know what she wanted. Him? Yes. She’d always wanted him, and that was the problem.
She hugged herself and moved away from both him and the temptation of the bed. “How did you find me?”
Sighing, he sat down on the edge of the mattress and dragged his hands through his hair. He was silent for so long, she finally turned to face him and saw a ravaged expression she hadn’t expected. He usually kept his emotions so locked-down it was hard to read him, but right now there was no mistaking the raw fear in his eyes when he met her gaze.
“I thought I saw you die today, Sage.”
“What?” she breathed. Her legs suddenly went numb beneath her, and she sank into a chair.
“After you left the motel, Cam called. He found out we’d been in an accident and demanded I take myself to the nearest ER. So I did.”
Despite the dread roiling in her stomach, she had to smile at that. Cam was the only person in the world who could get Vaughn to do something he didn’t want to do, like go to a hospital. “I’m glad he made you go.”
He scowled, then shook his head and continued. “While I was sitting in the waiting room, an ambulance pulled up. A woman had been shot twice. She was a blonde, wearing a Navy T-shirt and black leggings…”
“Oh, no.” She wrapped her arms around her middle and bent double to keep the surge of nausea down. She didn’t want to hear this, didn’t want confirmation of her fears. “No, no, no.”
“I watched her die,” Vaughn said, his voice raw. “And I thought she was you.”
The homeless woman. She’d given that woman her clothes to throw Vaughn and everyone else off her trail. She hadn’t even asked the woman’s name. Hadn’t cared, had only seen her as a means to an end. And because of it, she’d gotten that woman killed.
Bile raced up her throat, and she lurched toward the bathroom. Dry-heaved over the sink as tears streamed in an uncontrollable flood. Vaughn was right there beside her, his big hand rubbing circles in the center of her back.
“I killed her,” she gasped. “Oh God. I killed her.”
She couldn’t draw in an entire breath, her throat too tight, her lungs painfully constricted. White dots started dancing in front of her eyes.
“Jesus.” Vaughn scooped her up. She was helpless to do anything but wrap her arms around his neck and try to keep breathing as he strode to the bed. He sat down and cradled her in his lap.
“Sage, breathe. In and out, nice and slow.” His voice was a soothing murmur against her temple. His hand continued its slow circles on her back. “C’mon. Deep breath in. Let it out. In. Out.”
She focused on his soft words, the comfort of his arms around her, and his hand on her back. Several long minutes passed before her breathing settled to something approaching normal. She curled into him, buried her face against his neck, and let the grief, the wrenching sobs she’d been suppressing, come. And still, he held her. Soothed her.
When the crying jag ended, she lay limp in his arms, exhausted. He shifted them both up onto the bed, and the mattress sank under their combined weight as he lay down with her.
“I didn’t mean for her to die,” she whispered.
He pushed a strand of hair off her forehead. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t kill her.”
“I didn’t pull the trigger, but she’d be alive if I hadn’t given her my clothes.” She blinked away another round of tears. “I didn’t even ask her name. She died because they thought she was me, and I don’t even know her name…”
“Ah, vixen.” Vaughn pressed a kiss to her forehead. “What can I do to help? Please, tell me what I can do.”
In truth, he was already doing it. She’d been alone for so long she didn’t remember what it felt like to not be, and having someone comfort her was a new experience. A shoulder to cry on was so much better than muffling sobs in a pillow, soldiering through the pain and fear and loneliness that were her life because she had no other choice. For once, she could let herself fall apart, secure in the knowledge Vaughn would be right there to help her put the pieces back together when it was over.
She shifted closer to him. “Just…hold me.”
His arms circled her, and he dragged her in, tangling their legs together, curling his body around hers like a shield. “I’m here. I have you.”
She buried her face against his chest. Listened to the air rush in and out of his lungs, and the strong, steady pulse of his heartbeat. “Why did you come after me again?”
Vaughn said nothing for so long she didn’t think he’d answer. “I wasn’t going to.”
“You shouldn’t have. You should’ve walked away and let me disappear.”
“I can’t.” He huffed out a breath, which sounded a lot like a self-depreciating laugh. “I once accused Cam of having a hero complex. Turns out I have one, too. I know you’re in danger, and as long as you are, I can’t walk away.”
“Vaughn, I’ve been in danger for a long time. The only thing you’ve accomplished by tracking me down is putting yourself directly in the line of fire, too.”
“The line of fire’s a place I’ve been before. Multiple times. I’m not worried.”
“You should be.” She tilted her head back to look up at him. “Giuseppe is dangerous.”
He flashed a smile that was just a bit mean. “So am I.”
Oh, this man. This stubborn, grumbly man. He was no bark and all bite, and she loved that about him. She kissed the underside of his jaw, and he dropped his chin to his chest to meet her gaze. So many things passed between them in that moment—thrilling, scary things she didn’t dare name. She didn’t know who moved first, but their lips met in a soft, soul-wrenching kiss, and she ached to be closer to him. Maybe she was using him as a distraction from all the self-hatred boiling inside her, or maybe it was a much more primal need th
an a diversion, but she suddenly wanted one more time with him more than she wanted anything else in her life. Just one brief moment to experience pleasure with the only man she’d ever felt comfortable enough with to let herself go.
She pushed him to his back and rose up over him, straddling him. He was already hard, and she rocked her hips, grinding against his length through the layers of his clothes.
He groaned and curled his fingers around her waist. “Oh, fuck.”
“I intend to.” She pushed up his shirt and leaned over to drag her tongue over the hard ridges of his stomach and up his chest. “You’re the only man who has ever held me while I cried. The only one who has ever tried to help. I want to thank you for that.”
She was careful of the bruises along his ribs as she crawled up his body and finally found one nipple with her lips.
His fingers tightened in her towel like he wanted to tear it to pieces. “You don’t have to thank me at all. Especially not with sex.”
She released his nipple and met his gaze. “But I want to. Do you have a condom?”
“In my pocket.”
“Perfect.” Smiling, she slipped down his hard body again, trailing kisses across his abs as she went. While she dipped her fingers into his pocket for the condom, she used her teeth to open his fly. He was commando underneath, and she closed her lips around him, circled his head, and savored him with her tongue.
The sound he made when she released him was pure masculine need. She opened her towel, let it drop, and watched him as he drank in the sight of her naked body. She knew she had the goods men liked, which had always been both an asset and a problem, but she never felt beautiful. Except when Vaughn looked at her with that stark want in his eyes, like he was starving for a taste of her. Then she felt more than beautiful. She was powerful and feminine, the only woman he saw, the only woman he wanted. It made her heart pound with heady anticipation and her sex dampen with need.
Running Wilde Page 12
