Breaking Daylight

by M. J. Fredrick

  He entered the other stairway cautiously, then fished out his phone, Isabella still plastered to his side. He could feel her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest.

  “Where are they?” he asked Lionel without preamble, presuming the man was still in the security booth.

  “Ninth floor,” the older man said. “They’ve split. One went into the elevators, one went down the stairs.”

  “There were three,” Alex said.

  “I don’t see the third guy, and I don’t know how long I can stay here.”

  “Yeah, I get it,” Alex said. “I’ll call you when we’re out.” If they got out. He flipped the phone closed without waiting for an answer. Nine flights. Shit. They were bound to figure out this stairwell soon.

  “How’s your balance?” he asked Isabella, eyeing the rail.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “You want to run the rest of the way?”

  She looked down into the stairwell and swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”

  “Try.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

  She climbed up to sit on the rail, clutching her shoes and purse to her chest. She slid down a bit, then caught herself with a soft cry of surprise. Before he could chide her, she let go and slid to the bottom of the flight. She staggered a bit when she landed, but went to the next rail and did it again.

  When he caught up to her three flights later, she was flushed and suppressing nervous giggles, but her heart thundered beneath his touch. He could see her pulse bouncing in her throat.

  “Okay?” he asked.

  She nodded and went again, him right behind her.

  A door opened above them, one floor up. Isabella looked at him and whipped down the next rail, rubbing her ass before she jumped on the next. Yeah, a little friction did a lot to heat up the jeans.

  When he felt they had enough room between them and whoever else was on the stairs—whoever it was didn’t seem in much of a hurry—he caught Isabella’s hand and they started running again.

  Three more floors, two, one, the lobby.

  He pushed her behind the door and drew his gun discreetly before opening the door to peer out into the open space between here and the door.

  Not a lot of people this late at night, but he didn’t have the best vantage point. His target—or targets, they may have reunited—could be anywhere between here and the valet stand. With no one around, he and Isabella wouldn’t exactly be inconspicuous. Damn if he wanted to have a firefight in the middle of a hotel in downtown Miami.

  “Stay here,” he said to her quietly. “When I get to the truck, I’ll signal you.”

  “What about him?” she asked, pointing to the determined footsteps overhead.

  “When you see his feet, bolt. But not before then. Can you keep an eye on both of us?”

  She nodded. “Be safe,” she whispered.

  He glanced over. Her eyes were huge, fear gleaming in them. He leaned over, pressed a hard kiss to her mouth and stepped into the lobby, gun hand hidden behind his duffel.

  Chapter Twelve

  Spots appeared before Isabella’s eyes before she realized she’d forgotten to breathe. She strained to hear descending footsteps, watching for Alex’s signal. Would they make it out of here? She needed to feel the tension leave her body, to feel her heart return to normal.

  Her heart rate hadn’t been normal since Alex had kissed her in the elevator.

  Okay, since she danced just for him.

  Would her heart ever be normal again?

  She watched him cross the lobby, his stride confident, a man on a mission, a man afraid of nothing. But she recognized the minute he saw the enemy, saw the line of his shoulders tighten, saw him nod to someone she couldn’t see, behind a pillar. She wished he’d taken her with him. She felt completely vulnerable here.

  He looked over and motioned to her. She burst out of the door just as she saw the feet of her pursuer out of the corner of her eye. Racing barefoot across the lobby, she joined Alex at the valet stand, where he got his keys as if he had all the time in the world. He tipped the valet and they stepped out onto the driveway, where the truck waited.

  Now he was a blur of motion, opening the door for her. She vaulted in while he walked around the front, tossed the duffel between them and put the car in gear. Behind them, hurrying footsteps raced out onto the driveway.

  “Get down,” he commanded, and swung the car onto the road.

  She dropped to the floorboard, facing the seat, and clung to it as he whipped the truck left, then right, so the vehicle swayed on its shocks. Alex glanced in the rearview mirror repeatedly, his jaw tight, but everything else about him relaxed.

  In his element.

  “What now?” she asked.

  “We make sure they’re not behind us, then we call Lionel.”

  “Are they behind us?”

  “Can’t tell. Two cabs pulled out after us, but they don’t seem to be in a hurry to catch up.”

  “They don’t need to be. This isn’t the movies. They just need to know where we’re going.”

  He glanced at her, then accelerated. His face was grim when he looked in the rearview mirror. He turned, then turned again. Nausea welled up in her as she held onto the seat and the doorway, her spine bumping the glove box. She hated not being able to see where she was going, just like when they’d dropped off the cliff in the jungle. But she stifled that. She would not give him something else to worry about. She manned up and held on.

  His phone rang. Isabella jolted, Alex swore, then dug the phone out of his breast pocket and tossed it to Isabella. She stared at it a moment.

  “Open it,” he snapped.

  She did and held it to her ear.

  “Are you going to make me chase you all the way to Texas?” the gruff voice demanded.

  “Who is this?” she asked, her voice high and tight to her own ears.

  “Danes. The one who made sure those assholes didn’t follow you. Let me talk to Alex.”

  She lifted the phone to Alex, who scowled. “It’s Danes,” she said. “He’s following us.”

  Alex looked in the rearview mirror again before he took the phone. “Yeah?”

  “Pull over, Shepard.”

  “Where?”

  “That McDonald’s looks good.”

  Alex made a sharp right. He flipped the phone closed and tossed it on the seat in front of Isabella. “Stay there.” He shoved open the door, alert, ready to draw his gun.

  A cab pulled into the lot behind them. Alex tensed as the back door opened. Beyond him, she saw the big man step out and cast Alex a chiding look.

  Alex glanced at Isabella and dropped his hand away from his gun. “You can come out.”

  She rose slowly from the floorboards, not realizing how tight she’d been curled up until she had to force her muscles to relax. She unfolded herself from the truck and stood by Alex on shaking legs. She didn’t fail to notice that he angled himself between her and Danes. Did he not trust this man?

  Realization hit hard. Did he trust anyone?

  “They didn’t follow?”

  “I made sure they couldn’t,” Danes said in his rough voice. “The next step is to get you out of town. I have a hunting cabin near the Everglades. There’s a Walmart on the way, you can get the girl some shoes.” He gestured to her bare feet.

  “We can’t leave town,” Isabella protested, her voice shrill. “I have to find my son.”

  Danes pointed a scolding finger at her. “Young lady, those men were there to kill you, to kill both of you, like they killed those others in the fire tonight. You won’t find the kid if you’re dead.”

  “We also won’t find him if we’re hiding.” She whirled on Alex. “You promised you’d help me find him.”

  “I will.”

  He looked exhausted, the circles beneath his eyes dark, strain tightening his body. Strain she’d caused him because he was protecting her.

  “I’ll have my men on it,” he continued. “But it makes sense for us
to lay low. We don’t even know where to look.”

  “Texas, Jorge said.” She recognized the desperation in her own voice.

  He sighed. “Yeah, well, Texas is a big state. Just a couple of days. Lionel can leave a trail for them to follow, and when the heat is off, we’ll look again. By then, we may have a better idea where.”

  “We must have been getting close for them to be trying to kill us.” The idea terrified her. She’d been prepared for Santiago to take her back. She didn’t want to think what would happen to her son if Santiago killed her.

  Alex and Lionel exchanged looks. What did that mean? She curled her fingers into fists and resisted the urge to slug Alex’s arm. That would be childish. He’d just risked his life for her, after all.

  “Give the master sergeant your credit card, he’ll use it, heading toward Texas. They’ll follow that trail, and not us.”

  She turned back and dug into her purse. How would she ever find her child? She might have just run away from her chance to find Hector. She sat on the floorboard of the driver’s side of the truck, her feet barely reaching the asphalt of the parking lot, trembling with frustration and fear. Would she ever reunite with Hector?

  Alex stepped toward the tailgate of the truck, talking low with Lionel, who passed him something, then turned back to the cab.

  Alex returned to the driver’s side door and looked down at her. “Get in. I’ll get you something to eat, you’ll feel better.”

  She crawled over to her side silently. What choice did she have? She’d never find Hector on her own, and even if she did, how would she get him away from Santiago?

  He started the car and pulled through the drive-through of the McDonald’s. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice flat.

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  He stared at her a minute. “You need protein,” he decided and ordered a selection from the menu.

  Only when he pulled the bag in and scents filled the car did she realize how hungry she was. He sucked on his shake as he pulled back onto the road and she dug into the fries.

  As they headed out of town, the only words they exchanged were “Dig out my burger,” and “Is there any ketchup?”

  The tension eased out of her body and helplessness took its place. She stared out the window at the passing city and wondered where her child could be. Was it even possible to find him? The probability seemed overwhelmingly against them.

  They stopped at a Walmart on the edge of town. They split up and met back at the register. Alex checked the Keds she’d picked up with a scowl, which deepened when he saw the three thick romance novels in her basket.

  “You still need your goddamn white knights? We’re living on my money now,” he said.

  “I have cash,” she retorted, pulling her basket back defensively. “I need them.”

  He rolled his eyes and turned to put his products on the belt. Canned meat, canned vegetables, toilet paper, Nutri-Grain bars, packaged fruit, bottled water, new boxers. Practical.

  Condoms. A dozen.

  She looked from the box to him. “I don’t know what you’re going to be doing, but I’m going to be reading.”

  “In case the opportunity comes up. Wouldn’t do to be caught without.”

  “Boy Scout,” she muttered. In retaliation, she grabbed two bags of chips, two jars of dip, two Diet Cokes and five candy bars and threw them in her basket. He didn’t even blink when she unloaded her products.

  She did wince when the total took more of a chunk out of her cash than she expected. He grinned as he hefted her bags as well as his to cart to the truck.

  “Gotta be careful,” he said on the way out. “We don’t know how long we’ll be without a cash flow.” He loaded the bags with the cans and the bottled water into the back of the truck, tossed the rest under her feet in the cab. “Even when you get Hector back, you gotta think of what you’re going to do next. Won’t be easy getting a job.”

  “No.” She hadn’t thought that far ahead.

  “What kind of thing were you looking at?”

  Now he wanted to talk? Was he trying to guarantee that he would use some of those condoms and the price wouldn’t be wasted?

  “I don’t know. I don’t exactly have a lot of qualifications. I didn’t finish college, I’ve only had one job.”

  “Which you don’t want to do with a kid.”

  “Which I may have to.”

  “When he finds out what you are? Then what?”

  She hated even thinking that he was right. She didn’t want a job she’d have to hide from her child, and she didn’t want a job where she’d leave him at night, not in the long run. But maybe for now. “He’s young, Alex.”

  “You think you can hide it from him.”

  “I can make a good living at it. Just tonight I made sixty bucks, with one dance.”

  “Twenty of that was mine.”

  Anger snapped her head up. “You want it back?”

  “I’m just saying. You need to get a real job.”

  She couldn’t think of that now. She shoved her hair back from her face. “Let me get through one thing at a time.”

  “No way to live your life if you have a kid.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s the only way I know how to do it.”

  The cabin, an hour and a half away from any civilization, was a glorified single-wide trailer, flat roofed with a screened-in porch built onto the front, filled with fishing accessories, including a canoe. The whole place smelled of fish and mildew, overlying a lingering scent of burnt cooking oil. Alex turned on the light as they walked into the kitchenette. The counter was cluttered with dishes—clean, at least—and a line of dead ants. Bleh. Alex put their Walmart bags on the linoleum table.

  She reached over to crank open a window to get the smell out, but Alex stopped her, pointing to a hole in the screen the size of a quarter.

  “We’ll get eaten alive.”

  “Well, see if any windows have good screens. I can’t stand the smell.” She looked at him. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

  “I’ve smelled worse.” He made his way toward the bathroom, opened the door and jerked his head back. “Okay, maybe not. Christ.” He stepped in, and she heard him running water in the tub, felt the vibration of the water hitting the fiberglass through the floorboards. Then he flushed the toilet and swore more. “I don’t think he uses the tub to bathe,” he muttered. “But I did get a window open in there.”

  “God.” She dreaded the bedroom but followed him down the narrow hall.

  “It’s the carpet you smell,” he said. “Gets damp, he comes tramping in from fishing. Not pleasant, but not like a dead body or anything.” He turned on the light in the bedroom.

  She looked around his shoulder. “You may as well take those condoms back because I am not getting naked in that.”

  “We should have brought our own sheets,” he agreed, eyeing the polyester bedspread with spots of mildew on the corner. The pillows were flat and yellowed, with no cases.

  “And disinfectant spray.” Isabella turned to look in the cabinets around the small room, where she found thin towels. “We can cover the pillows with these.”

  “The sheets aren’t too bad,” Alex said after ripping the covers back to the end of the bed. He dropped onto the mattress that didn’t so much as bounce, and lay back. “Hell, I’m so tired I could sleep on the carpet.”

  She inspected the screens around the room, found two that were secure enough that she felt safe opening the window, and the small trailer was filled with sounds of wilderness, different from the ones in Honduras. Of course, she hadn’t opened the windows there, Santiago never would have allowed it.

  She carried the thin towels to the bed and sat beside Alex. His eyes were closed, his arm thrown over his eyes, but she knew he wasn’t asleep yet.

  Outside she heard a rumbling growl, followed by a kind of bark. She jolted and moved closer to Alex.

  “What is that?”

  “Alligator.”

 
; She whipped her head around to stare at him, grabbing his hand in panic, then looked past him out the window. “Are you kidding me?”

  Lazily he laced his fingers through hers. “Bull. Mating call.”

  “How on earth do you know that?”

  “Have them in North Carolina. Don’t worry. It won’t come in.”

  “I won’t go out.” Ever. “So what now?”

  He shook his head, arm still crooked over his face. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”

  She opened her mouth to press, but sensed his exhaustion and frustration, so instead asked, “The tub is pretty disgusting?”

  “Whole bathroom is,” he muttered, eyes still closed.

  With a sigh, she pushed herself off the bed. She found a worn washcloth and towel, took Alex’s toilet paper from the bag and headed in.

  The toilet had a black ring at the water level, the tub was grimy, but the sink was relatively clean. She ran warm water and stripped to her underwear, careful not to let her clothes touch the floor—no telling when they’d be able to wash, and she didn’t want to carry this smell around with them.

  With the hand soap, she cleaned quickly. She could still smell Alex on her. God, so much had happened since they’d made love, and that had only been a few hours ago. She washed his scent off, washed her feet and rinsed. Walking on top of her shoes, she made her way naked back into the bedroom, where Alex was on his side, toward the open window, asleep. She tugged his duffel open, found her kitten pajamas and slipped them on. Only once she was dressed and on the bed beside Alex, did she start to cry.

  The heavy weight of Alex’s arm across her waist woke her. She had no idea what time it was, if it was dark because of the time or because they were surrounded by trees. Alex’s breath was even, warm on the back of her neck. She’d never slept with a man all night, other than Alex, and even then he hadn’t touched her in his sleep, as if he’d had to keep his guard up.

  Why had he let his guard down now?

  She turned onto her back. She couldn’t see him but stroked his stubbled jaw. His breathing stuttered, evened out. Awake or asleep? Preferring to think he was asleep, she continued her exploration, gliding her touch down his chest.