Derrick stretched up, reaching overhead with one arm and placing something on the ceiling, right next to the sprinkler head. He muttered beneath his breath then touched the match to...something. She frowned, leaned closer as whatever he'd placed near the sprinkler caught fire and started burning. It was small, whatever it was, no larger than the size of a quarter, but the heat was surprisingly intense. She started to ask him what it was, how it could be burning so hot already, when there was the faintest metallic pop-click sound—
Immediately followed by a heavy spray of water. She gasped in surprise and jumped away but it was too late, she was already wet.
"Told you to stand back."
Lidiya curled her hand, surprised herself when she realized she wanted to smack his arm. He was laughing! How could he laugh, after everything that had happened tonight?
Maybe he knew what she was going to do because the soft laugh turned into a rich chuckle, deep and warm, which really made her want to smack him. But she never got the chance because Derrick's hand closed over hers and he pulled her away, leading her into the shadowed stairwell as the sound of alarm bells split the quiet.
Chapter Eight
Derrick slid a glance to his right and briefly studied his passenger. At least, as much as he could study her without running off the road. She'd been through enough the in the last eight hours, she didn't need to add motor vehicle accident to the list.
Eight hours. Jesus. Was that all it had been? He glanced at the dashboard's digital clock then did some quick mental math. Just over eight hours. That was a hell of a lot of excitement for someone who wasn't used to it—and he had no doubt Lee wasn't used to it. Not this kind of excitement, anyway. Hell, probably not any kind of excitement, judging from the stockpile of supplies at her small apartment.
I don't get out very often.
Yeah, no shit.
Jesus.
He shook his head and glanced over at her one more time. She was sleeping, had zonked out almost immediately when he started driving around thirty minutes ago. She was twisted in the seat, her head resting against her arm. She had the arm curled at an awkward angle against the window and no way could she be comfortable but what the hell did he know. Maybe she slept like that all the time.
No. More than likely, she was sleeping like that because she was fucking exhausted. He couldn't blame her, not when he was getting tired himself. He'd been up for thirty-six hours, hadn't had much sleep before then. He could go longer if he needed to—he had before—but he didn't want to push it, not if he didn't have to. Reaction time slowed when you were tired and even a few seconds could mean the difference between life or death. If he was smart, he'd find a place they could hole up for a few hours. His place was out of the question, not until he found out what the fuck was going on. And definitely not until he made sure they weren't being followed—or tracked.
His gut said they were in the clear, at least as far as being followed. That was one of the reasons he'd been driving for the last half-hour, doing nothing more than cruising around the city then heading east out into the county before turning north then west and heading back into the city. If they had a tail, he would have seen it by now.
It wasn't a tail he was worried about though, it was that damn fucking backpack resting by Lee's feet. He had no idea what was in it. No idea why she had grabbed it and insisted on bringing it with her. He hadn't argued the point at the time, which he still didn't understand.
But now he needed to look through it, to make sure there was no way in hell something was planted in it that would pinpoint their position—because someone was definitely watching Lee. If he'd had any doubts earlier, they had evaporated when he saw that damn camera on her computer go active. It had been nothing more than a fluke that he'd even noticed, just a feeling that something wasn't quite right when he noticed the faint blink of light from the corner of his eye. He'd reacted instantly, doing his best not to let on that he knew they were being watched.
By kissing her.
Jesus. Probably not the smartest move he'd ever made. He'd felt her surprise when his mouth closed over hers. Worse, he'd felt her body soften and melt against his a second later, like being kissed by him was the one thing she wanted more than anything else.
He shifted in the leather seat and softly swore to himself. Kissing her was the last thing he needed to be thinking of. It was a distraction he didn't need, not when he still didn't know what the hell was going on or what Lee wanted from him.
The only thing she'd said, in all this time, was that if whoever was after her was who she thought, she should be dead already. What the hell kind of trouble was she in? And the expression in those waif eyes of her when she said it—that had been nothing more than acceptance. Resignation. Like she knew what was coming and it was only a matter of time until it happened.
Not on his fucking watch.
Which was another thing that bothered him. Since when did he allow himself to become so invested in a mission? And yeah, as far as he was concerned, that's what this was: a mission. It had been since whoever the hell was after her had fired that first shot. He tended to take that shit personally.
Maybe he was invested because it was Lee. Because they'd had a working relationship of sorts.
Maybe.
And maybe, if he repeated it enough, he'd actually fucking believe it. He knew, deep down in the recesses of the pit where his soul used to reside, that there was more to it than that. She'd gotten to him, with those big gray eyes and that unbelievable combination of naivete and innocence and steel that clung to her more tightly than that old shirt of TR's she was wearing.
And maybe, deep down, some unrealistic part of him thought that by helping Lee, he could somehow redeem himself and find absolution for his past mistakes.
He tightened his hands around the steering wheel and softly swore to himself. No way in hell could he start thinking like that. Talk about pure madness. He shook the insanity off and focused on the streets that were beginning to come to life ahead of the dawn. Food and sleep were what he needed, in that order. Once he had those, he could start thinking more clearly and get to the bottom of whatever the fuck was going on.
And he couldn't do that until he could be absolutely sure that damn bag by Lee's feet was clean. If he'd been smart, he would have tossed the damn thing out the window as soon as she drifted off. But he couldn't make himself do it, not when he recalled the desperation in her eyes when she told him it was coming with them. Like it was the only thing left in the world that she possessed.
Jesus.
He pulled the truck into the lot of a fast food place and eased into a parking space then leaned over and gently nudged Lee's shoulder. She mumbled something and shook her head, then settled against the window again. Derrick rolled his eyes and shook her one more time.
"Lee! Rise and shine."
She muttered something again, the words barely audible. He frowned, his mind spinning as it tried to make sense of them but they weren't English. They were—
What the fuck. Had she just said something in Russian?
He nudged her again, a little harder this time. Her eyes slowly opened and she lifted her head, blinking as she looked around. Small lines creased her forehead then finally cleared when her sleepy gaze settled on him.
"Where are we?"
"I stopped somewhere to get breakfast." He sat back in the seat and watched her. Tried to convince himself he'd been hearing things. Told himself it didn't matter either way.
"Tell me your name again."
She paused mid-stretch and frowned at him. "Lee."
"Your full name. The one you gave me last night at the bar."
"Lidiya."
"That's not how you pronounced it last night. Li-dee-uh. You said it a different way."
She yawned, rolled her neck from side-to-side, then looked over at him. There was no puzzlement in her gaze, no hint of secrecy or deception. "My grandfather pronounced it LEE-dee-yah."
"So you're wh
at, Russian?"
She hesitated. Pursed her lips and shook her head. "My grandmother was Serbian but I'm American. Born and raised. Why?"
Derrick watched her for another long minute. Was she lying? No, he didn't think so. Her gaze was too clear, too direct, despite the sleepiness lingering in her gray eyes.
He finally leaned back and shook his head. "It just sounded like you said something in Russian. Or maybe it was Serbian. Earlier, when I tried to wake you up."
She looked away, but not before he saw a shadow cross her eyes. "I doubt it. I don't speak it, not anymore."
"Anymore?"
She shrugged and looked over at him, just a quick glance before she turned away again. "My grandfather taught me a few words but that was a lifetime ago, when I was a little girl."
Did he believe her? Maybe, maybe not. The country was full of immigrants and descendants of immigrants, a melting pot of cultures and languages—including eastern European. It didn't mean anything. And it would be easy enough to check her story. As soon as he ate something and got some sleep—which he couldn't do until he checked her bag.
He pointed to the bag resting at her feet. "Hand it over. I need to check it out."
"I told you, it's safe."
"And you'll have to excuse me for not taking your word for it." He leaned across the console and snagged the bag, brushed off her delayed attempt to grab it from him when he placed it in his lap.
It was a small backpack, with just the main compartment and a smaller one on the front. He unzipped the small one first and pulled everything out: a bottle of ibuprofen. A few pens. A small blank notebook. A single key, the kind that looked like it might go to a safe deposit box.
Derrick slid a glance at Lee, bit back a smile at the mutinous expression in her eyes. It was the same expression that had been there earlier, when she wanted to smack him for laughing at her. But she didn't say anything or make another grab for the bag, just sat there with her arms folded in front of her and irritation flaring in her eyes.
Derrick placed the small items in a pile on the dashboard then unzipped the main compartment. A pair of jeans. A sweater. Socks and sensible, boring underwear and one of those sports bra contraptions. He held it up with a quirk of his brow only to have Lee rip it and the underwear from his hands.
He swallowed a small chuckle and pulled the other items out. Hat. Scarf. Gloves. A few protein bars that were harder than concrete. Another small notebook. No, not a notebook, a photo album. He flipped it open, quickly scanned the handful of pictures inside.
"My parents. They died a little over two years ago."
There was a hesitation in her voice, something in the way she said died, that made him look over. He swallowed back his words of condolence and handed her the small album, then turned back to the bag. The only thing left was an envelope, one of those medium-sized clasp jobs that weren't really big enough to hold much of anything. This one had some thickness to it and he pulled it out, pausing to weigh it in his hand. He glanced over at Lee, expecting her to make a grab for it, but she just sat there, that mutinous expression back on her face.
He pinched the clasp and peeled the envelope open, careful not to rip it as he pulled out the contents.
A passport.
Two credit cards.
A checkbook.
He flipped the passport open and studied the picture. It was Lee, only a few years younger. He glanced at the name: Lidiya Stephenson. The name on each credit card was listed as LR Stephenson.
He placed them to the side then opened the checkbook. The name on the checks matched the passport and credit cards. The first check was numbered 100, which told him Lee didn't write many checks or had never touched this account. He flipped open the register and studied the single line on the first page that denoted the opening balance.
And stared at it for a few seconds more.
He closed everything up without saying a word and placed everything back in the envelope. Then he carefully and thoroughly examined everything, each seam of the bag, each strap. Each scrap of clothing and each picture in the small photo album. Even the pens and the key and the bottle of ibuprofen. Then he placed everything back in the bag, except for the protein bars. Those he threw out the window.
"Buy yourself some new ones. Those are so damn old, they'll kill you."
"I—okay." Lee accepted the bag from him and placed it by her feet. Silence hung in the air between them and he knew she was waiting for his questions, knew she hadn't expected to get the bag back.
Derrick turned in the seat and watched her as the silence stretched around them. He finally nodded toward the bag, his voice conversational and nonthreatening when he spoke. "Is Lidiya your real name?"
"Yes."
No hesitation. No sign of deception. Did he believe her? He'd be a fool to take her at her word—which meant he was a fool, because he did.
"Is that supposed to be a bug-out bag of sorts?"
She glanced at the bag resting at her feet then shrugged. "I never really thought of it that way but...yeah, I guess."
"You know, most people who are hiding usually come up with a fake name. Makes it easier to, you know, hide."
She lowered her gaze, not saying anything. Fine, she could keep her secrets to herself...for now.
He straightened in the seat then eased the truck from the parking spot.
"Where are we going now?"
"We're hitting the drive-through for breakfast. After that, we're going to both catch some sleep."
"Where?"
"Somewhere safe, don't worry." He circled around the lot and entered the drive-through lane. "And after that, we're going to talk."
"Talk?"
"Yes, talk. It's about time you tell me what the hell is going on and exactly who is after you."
"But—"
"No more buts, Lee. If you want my help, it's time to come clean." He slid her a long glance. "About everything."
Chapter Nine
Dark. Cold. So cold, she didn't think she'd ever be warm again. She wanted to curl under the covers, hide her head beneath the blankets and lose herself in the dream that had been so abruptly interrupted.
But she couldn't. The time for dreams had ended, long before they ever started.
She stared at her father, standing before her, so tall and proud and self-assured. Refusing to let her see even a glimpse of the uncertainty in eyes that looked so much like her own.
She slid her glance to her mother, knew she was looking into a mirror image of what she herself would like in thirty. The same hair. The same diamond-shaped face. The same full mouth.
The same fright and worry and sense of helplessness in her eyes.
Lidiya clutched the bag against her chest and turned back to her father. "We can go together."
"No, it's too late for that." A brief smile curled his mouth as he reached out and gently touched her cheek. "We've talked about this before, mišu moj mali. You know that."
Mišu moj mali. My little mouse. They were the only words her father still used in his mother's native tongue, the same endearment his mother had called him as a child. The only piece of his heritage that he'd retained. He'd removed himself from everything else, had reinvented himself when he had discovered the truth of his parentage. They all had.
Except the old secrets had caught up to them.
Lidiya shook her head, ready to deny...everything. The fact that they were once again forced to run from the past. The fact that any of this was real. She wanted to argue, to tell her father that they should stick together. There was safety in numbers, it was too dangerous to split up.
Most of all, she wanted to tell him she was afraid. Not just because of the need to run again, but from the sickening sensation low in her belly, the certainty that life as they all knew it was about to change in ways they could never imagine.
That certainty grew even stronger with each passing second and with it came an overwhelming sense of urgency. She needed to change her father's mind,
convince him that they should leave together.
But it was too late. His mind was made up, had been made up long ago.
It didn't matter if it was too late, Lidiya needed to try. "Dad—"
"No arguments, Lidiya. You know what must be done. Now go. Your mother and I will catch up with you in a few days."
"But—"
It was her mother who interrupted this time. Quiet and serene, with an untiring strength that never failed to surprise Lidiya. She pulled Lidiya into a quick hug, silencing her with reassuring words.
Lidiya wanted to push away, to tell her mother she didn't need reassurance the way she had when she was a child. She wasn't a child anymore, she was twenty-three, a grown woman with a mind of her own. A life of her own.
Only that was a lie. She'd never been able to settle into her own life, not when the past kept her a prisoner as surely as if she existed in a small cell of concrete and iron.
Her mother dropped her arms and stepped back. "Do as your father says. We'll meet you later."
Yet Lidiya still hesitated, that sickening certainty and urgency twisting her gut, telling her this was wrong. All of it. They needed to leave together. Now.
In the end, she said none of that. She couldn't force the words through her clogged throat, could barely see her parents' faces, blurred as they were through a sheen of tears. She hugged them both then hurried through the short tunnel that would take her to the small storm cellar a short distance behind the house.
She climbed the chipped and worn concrete steps and pushed the metal doors open. Night air washed over her face, crisp with the first hint of autumn.
She closed the doors behind her then moved into the woods, sheltering herself within the thick trees as she slid her arms through the straps of the backpack. Her parents would be upstairs now, making their own preparations to leave. In a few hours, maybe even longer, they would make their own way to the meeting place.
Lidiya knew she needed to move, to make her way to safety, but something stopped her. Leaving her parents made no sense. They should leave together. If she had more time, she could convince them of that, make her father see reason, she was certain of it. All she needed was a little more time.
The Warrior: DERRICK (Cover Six Security Book 4) Page 7