Christ Almighty, he adored his family. All the screaming matches, late night phone calls, and interruptions were worth it, because they’d always given him the foundation he needed to grow. Deep down, even if he avoided the care and shares, he could count on them like they did him.
But Danny didn’t have any of that. From the few things she’d revealed, her life consisted of traveling from one town to another by her lonesome, and based on the way she clammed up about family, the relationship had never gotten better there either. She must have grown up with no one to rely on. No one to care for.
All those lonely looks and the longing in her eyes when he’d brought her over to his parents’ house clicked into place.
Even if the conversation between then caused him to bleed all over again, and even if she never wanted to see him again, he couldn’t leave their ends frayed like this without at least trying to mend the rope. Danny might know how to protect herself better than most, but Adrian would fight for her heart until she learned to do it herself.
Chapter Fifteen
Sweat dripped down Danny’s forehead as she plunged a spade in the ground, trying to loosen the earth and pull the stubborn weeds that managed to get a foothold. She reached down and took a swig from her water bottle, adding a few more dirt smudges to the exterior. Three days had passed since she’d walked out on Adrian, and she still struggled to hydrate after the spectacular amounts of gin she’d downed.
Once she’d left the Gin Mill with what’s-his-name, Danny had gotten cold feet, but before she could communicate her changed decision, her body did the talking instead. By way of projectile puking. Right onto his JoS. A. Bank suit. He’d muttered an excuse and bolted, leaving her to stumble her way home by her lonesome.
Still, she was grateful. Even if she couldn’t be with Adrian, she’d been running on grief and liquor and would’ve regretted fumbling in a back alley with some stranger.
She slammed the spade into the earth a little harder before grabbing the weed and yanking the tangled roots from the ground. That was her right now, some dandelion appearing in places, unwanted, and every time she tried to set down roots, she got torn from the earth. What made it worse were the texts Adrian sent, considerate to the core. Every fiber in her begged to go running to his house, to crash into his arms, lose herself in his warmth, and tell him everything.
Except that was against the rules.
Her phone buzzed, and she slipped her gloves off before pulling it out. Her heart twisted, hoping Adrian texted all while hoping it was anyone else. God, his presence branded her bones, an addiction she had never conquered. For that man, she’d thrown out caution, responsibilities, and her rules. Not like anything could have ever blossomed from the tempest brewing between them.
Danny frowned when she caught sight of who called. “I’m at work. What’s going on?” she asked.
“Meet us at McDermitt’s tonight,” Eve said in her usual perfunctory tone. “We have to start planning your escape routes.”
Her stomach plummeted. “I’ll be there,” she responded, clicking the phone shut without another word. Not like Eve or the other Feds would be waiting around to offer any consolation or the heart-to-hearts she craved.
A shadow appeared from the back of the house, lengthening along the grass.
Danny grabbed her spade tight and rose from the ground. Her heart stammered in her chest, and the adrenaline descended like that seventh cup of coffee.
Camilla slunk around the corner, her slim black uniform stained with flour from whatever she’d been baking. Danny let slip a gasp of relief, even though her pulse thundered.
“I’ve been looking all over the yard for you,” Cam called out as she approached. “How you manage this menace is beyond me.”
Danny scratched the nape of her neck, a little tender from the amount of sun she’d gotten today. No matter how often she spent outside, she accumulated freckles rather than tan. Cam hadn’t been around in the past few days, and after Danny’s gin extravaganza, she hadn’t been in a reaching out mood.
“What’s up?” Danny asked, keeping her tone light and casual.
“You, that’s what.” Cam tipped a finger in her direction. “Don’t think you’re getting out of talking about your random call the other night. I know for a fact you were supposed to be hanging with your boyfriend. Don’t you remember the convo we had earlier?”
Danny flinched at the term boyfriend. Shit. She forgot about sharing the details with Cam. The woman was so easy to talk to she ended up blathering on about anything that leapt into her mind—apart from the past, of course.
“Oh, that,” Danny responded, crouching to the ground again to continue tugging out the bull thistle and ragweed determined to ruin her garden. “I walked out on Adrian.” The brief flash of hurt and the haunted way he looked at her made bile rise in her throat. She stared at the grass like she’d set it on fire, focusing on tugging more wayward roots from the mulch.
“What did he do?” Cam asked, crouching beside her.
Danny looked at her, unable to stave off the stinging in her eyes. “Nah, he didn’t do anything. I’m just so fucked up I can’t share and care like a normal person in a healthy relationship. It was for the best.”
Cam cocked an eyebrow at her, her crimson lips pursed in disbelief. Unlike Danny who got lazy on the makeup, Cam’s brows were sculpted, and if she didn’t wear her favorite shade of red, steer clear. Cam flicked her in the arm. “None of that talking down on yourself shit. The relationship must’ve been moving faster than you were ready for. You seemed to care about him, though. Is it worth running away from?”
Danny’s throat tightened. If only she knew. Running wasn’t a choice for her but a way of life, thanks to Kyle the Homicidal Maniac.
She gave a half-hearted shrug. “I never know how long I’ll be in an area, so what’s the use in trying for anything long term?”
Cam cocked her head to the side but didn’t push, and for that, Danny was grateful.
“Well, look,” she said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you on Saturday night when it all went down, but I want you to know you can always, always call me.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded-over napkin. “I smuggled this out for you, since the extra sugar won’t sweeten Natalie’s temper anyway. If you want to talk more later or grab drinks, you’ve got my number.”
Cam pushed herself up and dusted off her pants before sauntering toward the back of the house so no one noticed her missing. Danny opened the napkin to find a rich, dense brownie nestled inside, still warm and gooey. Her mouth watered just looking at it. Her eyes stung, and she let the couple of drops slide down her cheeks as she stared at this gift. She had made friends hundreds of times before, enough to understand how rare people like Cam and Adrian were, ones who showed their care and spent the time to check-in.
No matter how many cities she lived in, her heart had always remained in Charleston.
***
Walking anywhere alone normally set Danny on edge, but now with her father so close to the city, every shadow caused her to reach for her pistol instead of pepper spray. Part of her wished he wouldn’t appear. After all, she’d long since given up hope the Feds would catch him, and at least then she’d be allowed to linger a little longer.
However, Eve called her to McDermitt’s to discuss exit strategy, which meant the moment they sighted Kyle Peterson in the city limits, she’d have to follow protocol and bid this city goodbye.
No more stops by the Gin Mill.
No more dishing at work with Cam.
No more Adrian Dukas. And if that didn’t just slam into her guts like a sack of concrete.
Danny stepped in front of McDermitt’s, chatter flowing from inside the crowded pub. This busy sort of environment created the perfect meeting place, and more than one of the Feds would be making an appearance tonight. The increased number had to do with her father—he’d been a black mark on their records for far too long.
She opened the
door, greeted by the scent of salty fries and juicy burgers. Along a walnut bar counter, dozens of pints in varying shades of brown and amber lined up from the crowds of patrons loitering around. This chaos meant they could talk without anyone listening in on their conversation. Danny wandered past the exposed brick columns, weaving her way around servers dashing from table to table while some of the bar crowd spilled onto the floor.
Eve sat in one of the interior booths alongside Dave, a Fed she’d met a few times in the past. Her long-time handler had sliced off her dark locks into a short pixie cut since the last time they’d met, and even though she wore a slouchy, casual olive dress and black pumps, her rigid stance and serious expression always screamed Fed. Dave blended better with a baseball cap and beat-up tee that highlighted his lean frame, looking more at ease than Eve.
Dave waved, offering a big grin that went a slight way to settling Danny’s nerves, even with their impending discussion. Out of all the Feds she’d met, Dave had been the friendliest, but that didn’t mean he should be underestimated—the man could keep a casual smile plastered on his face while firing round after round into his targets.
Danny tipped two fingers in a salute as she slid into the opposite side of the booth. “Welcome to Charleston,” she said to Dave as he passed her over a pint of lager. Not her preference, but she wouldn’t turn down the free drink.
“I’ve already been running surveillance on the outskirts of the town for a couple of weeks now,” Dave responded. “Cute place.”
“I like to think so,” Danny emphasized as she pursed her lips, the stubbornness rising to her chin without trying.
“You’re best off getting those last visits to places in now,” Eve said, tapping the side of her wine glass with a manicured nail, this time a deep plum. Her dark eyes softened. “I know you’d like to stay in one place for a bit longer, but once we spot your father in town, it’s no longer safe for you to be here. You might’ve been the bait to bring him down this way, but you’re needed as witness to the original crimes back then. We can’t risk him turning you into another victim.”
Danny’s throat tightened, and white noise buzzed in her head. No, no, no. She refused to return to that night.
The bookcase wasn’t in its normal place, and the outline of a door stood out, one she’d never seen before.
Curiosity had always been her downfall.
The stench that slammed into her upon entering the darkness made her gag. Coppery and raw mixed with the sort of rot that assaulted her nostrils. She choked back the bile in her throat as she grabbed her phone, turning the flashlight app on.
At once, she wished she hadn’t.
For too long, she’d pretended what hung from the hooks in the secret room had been dead animals, like a butcher’s shop. The fragile glaze she applied to the surface kept her from teetering over the edge into a paralyzing breakdown one too many times. The stench, the sights, those would forever be engraved in her mind, no matter how hard she tried to scrub them out.
She’d staggered back, unable to take in the enormity of the room or the weight of what it meant. The gleam of exposed bone, flesh battered so hard the skin was a patchwork of purples and blues. Eyes wide open, frozen in an unending scream. Bodies hung across the room, one, seven, maybe even a dozen. The table stretched along the far wall, and a line of gleaming instruments splayed out across a clean white cloth. Deadly things with vicious teeth.
In the moment, Danny hadn’t even questioned whose room this was. Her father had always appeared normal to the point of dull as paste, but his constant absences always made her wonder. And no amount of smiling could diminish the flatness in his gaze, how nothing stirred beneath the surface. Ever.
Her limbs began to shake, and her mind shut down. Only one command slammed into her: Run.
That day she’d run and run and run until she’d burst into Hanahan’s police precinct and they’d pried the words out of her. By the time the cops burst into her house, Kyle Peterson had grabbed his essentials and driven off. In Danny’s haste to escape, she’d left the door to the secret room open and tipped him off. From that day forward, she and Mom were placed in WitSec.
“Danny?” Eve said, the sound snapping her out of her memories. Back then, she was a different person, but that day she buried Sam Peterson, and ever since, she’d become a revolving door of different identities.
“I’m with you,” she said on automatic. “Just starving.” Even though Eve’s stare lingered like she didn’t buy the excuse, her handler flagged down their waitress, and they all placed orders, a bowl of stew for Eve while she and Dave both went with bacon cheeseburgers.
“Here’s the way the next week or so is going to play out,” Dave said, the moment the waitress stepped away. “With your father approaching, any sight of him in Charleston is going to place you in immediate danger. You’re going to need your phone on you at all times.”
“Where was the last sign of him?” Danny asked. They might’ve mentioned it, but with him this close, she stepped to the edge of an ocean threatening to drag her under.
“Florence, about two hours north of here,” Eve said, folding her napkin over and over again. The woman couldn’t sit still for anything, and throughout the years, Danny had grown familiar with watching her fold napkins, crease straws, straighten utensils, or do anything to straighten her surroundings. That’s when Danny knew this had gotten serious.
“I already answer your calls the second I get ’em,” Danny said, tipping the lager back. She wrinkled her nose, not digging the flavor. “What’s the difference?”
“The difference is the next time we call, it won’t be for a meet-up or discussion,” Dave explained. “The next time we call, you’ll hop in your car and be driving out of town to a protected destination.”
Danny nodded, even though a scream welled in her throat. After living here for about a month, she’d developed a routine. She loved working out in the sunshine at the Horntree Estate with Cam. She loved being by the sea, catching the salt and brine in the breeze. And she loved every moment she spent by Adrian’s side. But the time had arrived.
Once her handlers’ phone call came in, she’d be hopping in Bella and bidding her life goodbye. No more Sam Peterson and no more Danny Reynolds. Out of every identity she’d assumed, she loved this one the most. Danny Reynolds was the girl who kissed Adrian Dukas and who, for a half second, allowed herself to believe there might’ve been a future there. Danny Reynolds was the first time in a long while she’d let hope in.
Dave passed her a folded note, and she slipped it into her canvas bag. She’d check the address later and let whatever new destination listed slap her in the face. Because no matter where they sent her, it wouldn’t be Charleston. It wouldn’t be home.
“There’s no margin of error for this,” Eve warned. Her handler might be looking out for her, but man, moments like this she hated them both. “If we’re lucky, this might be the week we catch your father.”
Danny had been told that so many times she felt sick. She shrugged, trying to act unaffected. “Or it’ll be another dead body and a new city for Kyle Peterson.”
Chapter Sixteen
Adrian wrinkled his nose, his allergies kicking in as he stepped into the Garden section of Home Depot, a spot he hadn’t visited in far too long. When he’d first bought the house, he went on constant post-work trips there, but as his hours increased at the hospital, he spent less time fixing up the house. Betty’s complete lack of interest didn’t help. The idea she wanted their old house made him laugh—she’d always been more of a swank condo type.
However, Adrian called about six different Home Depots, and the one a half hour outside of town had what he searched for. He didn’t know the first thing about gardening apart from pulling out the weeds when they got too wild, and even then, half the time he pulled flowers instead. But Danny offered a fountain of knowledge on the subject, passion lighting her eyes every time she talked about the different types of perennials she planted
or the way she’d spaced out the blooms in the Horntree garden.
The one flower he remembered her talking about over and over again was a Madagascar rose, but she couldn’t find a way to work it into the Horntree garden because the colors were too splashy. He’d hit Google like a fiend, though, and it could work for a house plant. No way would he show up on her doorstep empty handed—he wasn’t raised that way. The humid air of the gardening center glued his undershirt to his chest as he wandered through the aisles, searching for the blooms. The employees strolled around in their eyesore-orange aprons, idly chatting with folks as they passed.
He wove by them, heading toward the big displays of petunias and zinnias collected on large tables, hanging overhead, and lining the stacks of pallets. The splashy colors distracted him at every turn until all the neon blues, yellows, and reds melded together. One shade in particular caught his eye, the velvety magenta flowers growing from a pot like a miniature tree.
Bingo.
His phone buzzed as he approached the potted plant which had Danny stamped all over it. Adrian snagged his phone and checked the screen. Nellie hadn’t called him in a while since she saw him at family dinner every week, whether her douchebag husband Greg joined her or not.
“What’s going on, Nellie?” Adrian asked, nestling the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he picked up the pot.
“Guess who I ran into at the grocery store?” she said, a bite to her voice.
Adrian did the quick detective work of who might irritate Nellie that involved him. “Betty’s just showing up everywhere, isn’t she? Give me a second to pay. I’m at the store.”
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