She smiled serenely. In the bright light streaming through the east-facing window, he could see lines on her face that he hadn’t noticed before. But in her Middle Eastern–print caftan, with her long, wavy silver hair hugging her shoulders, she looked exotic and youthful.
“Perhaps. It wouldn’t be the first time, but Elizabeth and I have always shared a special bond. I knew the moment a brutal pain entered her life—even though she’s only recently revealed what happened. And I felt a renewed lightness about her after she met you. If not love, then something very similar to it exists between you. Deep fondness, perhaps.”
Deep fondness. Did lust qualify under that header? Probably not. “Your daughter is a remarkable person. I am…fond of her and I wouldn’t want to see her get hurt, which is why I’m leaving. Right after breakfast. This is delicious, by the way.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it. I miss being able to watch a man dig into a hearty breakfast. The girls’ father was a big eater. He gobbled up life and seemed to radiate the energy that he got from the food like a small sun. It’s not surprising she misread her prophecy.”
Her tone held a reflective quality, as if the thought just now made sense to her. He didn’t want to talk about Liz’s future, since he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be a part of it. He shook his head and picked up the coffee mug on the tray. “This isn’t drugged, is it?”
Yetta threw back her head and laughed. “Of course not. And neither was your tea last night. Elizabeth told me she used the tea bags she’d made for me when I was having trouble sleeping. The herbs encourage relaxation, and because the fire was so traumatic, she was afraid you’d spend the whole night fretting.”
He took a gulp of the strong black brew. “Where is Liz? Did she get home safely?”
“She slept right next door to you. In Maya’s room. Now she’s out back talking to Ezekiel. She and Grace just got done trying to outswim each other. I’ve somehow managed to raise a very competitive bunch of girls.”
Shaking her head, she picked up the tray and started to leave, but paused to say, “I left a fresh razor on the bathroom counter and one of Kingston’s old shirts on a hanger behind the door. It’s clean and pressed. I’m afraid his pants won’t fit. You’re much taller and thinner.” She smiled. “But I don’t think he would have held that against you. In fact, I think my husband would have liked you.”
How is that possible? David asked himself. I don’t even know who am I—or who I’m going to be next. True, he’d set up one possibility, but, with Ray on his heels, David wasn’t sure he trusted that identity, either. As soon as he left this house, he planned to disappear. How could her late husband possibly have approved of that?
“HE STOOD UP for what he believed in. How can that be wrong?”
“Liz is right, Zeke. You’re making David sound like some kind of criminal. He got out of a bad situation without selling poison to the innocent masses. Tell me why we shouldn’t be carrying him around on our shoulders?”
Liz looked at Grace with such a burst of love she almost hugged her, but since they were both resting their forearms against the block-wall fence between their mother’s and uncle’s backyards, she didn’t. As they had every morning since Grace returned, the two had met for a sunrise swim.
“I didn’t say he was evil. I said he ditched the identity the government set up. That makes him suspect.”
“Or really smart,” Liz returned.
Grace nodded with a wink. To Zeke, she said, “So what are you suggesting? We keep him here until the bad guy shows up and tries to kill him? Sounds a bit…problematic…as Alexa would say.”
Zeke didn’t answer.
“Oh, my God, that’s your plan, isn’t it?”
He had dark glasses on so she couldn’t see his eyes, but the crinkles on either side of the shades deepened so she knew he was squinting in thought. “His greenhouse wasn’t ruined. He could stay there with protection. From what I’ve been able to find out, this guy who’s after him is a real hothead. People like that are usually fairly easy to catch.”
“Before or after they kill their target?” Grace quipped.
Liz held up her hand for a high five.
“He wouldn’t be at any greater risk here than he would on the run. Paranoid people make mistakes.”
“Tell that to Paul McAffee,” a deep voice said.
Liz and Grace both turned to look at the man standing behind them. “Who’s Paul McAffee?” Grace asked.
“The person I used to be,” David said, stepping closer.
Liz could see that he’d shaved the sides of his face and chin. He’d also changed into a short-sleeve shirt that seemed familiar. He looked like an ordinary guy who couldn’t possibly be the person they’d just been talking about—a research scientist who once worked for a madman out to poison the world.
“I’m leaving,” he said, looking at Zeke, not her. “There’s no reason to put these good people at risk.”
Grace stepped close and put her arm across Liz’s shoulder. They’d both wrapped beach towels around themselves after exiting the pool. The morning breeze, although warming up, left a trail of gooseflesh across Liz’s shoulders. The display of nerves matched the uneasiness racing through her insides.
She wanted him to leave. Leaving was good, right? Then why did hearing him say the words make her want to cry?
“It’s your call, but I’ve always believed facing your enemy makes it a helluva lot easier to sleep at night,” Zeke said.
“Our father used to say, ‘Hold your friends close and your enemies closer,’” Grace added. “Remember, Liz?”
Maybe. But surely that didn’t apply to a stranger who accidentally showed up in their midst bringing the threat of fire and destruction?
Grace jostled Liz slightly and added under her breath, “And Mother always says there’s no such thing as an accidental meeting. People come into our lives for a reason.”
Liz pulled back and snarled, “I really hate it when you do that.”
“Do what?” Grace blinked with a smile too innocent to be real. Nobody really believed in Grace’s ability to read minds, but she was extremely astute at guessing what her sisters were thinking. And she’d nailed Liz’s thoughts this time.
Was David here for a reason? Was he the man from her prophecy? The possibility confounded her, frightened her. “I have to go,” she said. “The cats are all alone and probably need food. Plus, I have some tea orders to fill.”
“And you’re swinging by my office later, right?” Zeke asked, his tone more of an order than a question. They’d discussed his request before Grace had shown up to swim. He wanted Liz to let him put a global positioning system responder on her car…just in case.
For a private person like Liz, that was asking a lot, but she was really too worn down at the moment to argue. She’d spent a miserable night torn between dreams of losing Prisha and chasing after a man who wove through the shadows like a ghost. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.” To Grace, she said, “I’ll be back around two to take you and Nick to the airport, okay?”
“We’ll be ready. Nikolai suggested we take a taxi, but once I made it clear I wasn’t driving, he was happy. He said he hadn’t gotten to spend enough time with you, so this will be nice.”
Liz started away but stopped. She couldn’t leave things totally in the air between her and David. “Mom has my number. I know you’ll be busy sorting out stuff with Zeke and at your place, but if you get a chance, we should probably talk.”
His too-black mustache wiggled slightly giving the hint of a smile. “Sure thing. And, uh, thanks for the tea last night.”
His tone was so intimate she almost blushed. She knew what he meant. She’d more or less drugged him. For his own good. She dashed off, tiptoeing around puddles left on the concrete by the automatic sprinklers. Today was going to be rough, and negotiating the safest path through obstacles seemed to be her fate.
FOUR HOURS LATER, David was grimy and disgusted. He’d let Zeke Mar
tini talk him into sticking around—at least temporarily. Was that smart? Hell, no. But his plan to leave had been severely compromised, and the guy was right about one thing: running away without a plan in place was utter foolishness.
But so was hanging out with Liz and her family. He had no intention of doing that. Mimi, his landlady, had coughed up a World War II–era cot and some bedding that David set up in the potting shed, the one building left completely untouched by the fire and water. Yetta had donated an oversize cooler filled with ice, water, juices and snacks, which Zeke had delivered an hour earlier. And, an even bigger surprise, a couple of stores that he frequented in the neighborhood, had donated food, beer and money to help him get back on his feet.
The only thing he lacked at the moment was transportation and a shower. And a phone. He’d told Liz he’d keep her informed about his situation. He could flag down one of the undercover units staking out his place, but that was probably tacky, he decided.
He went to the cooler and took out a beer. He tossed back the bottle and chugged a long, refreshing drink—and almost fumbled the bottle when he felt something touch his ankles.
A rasping purr filled the small space. “Meow.”
“Well, what do you know,” he exclaimed. David hadn’t seen Scar at all. He’d halfway decided the cat was gone for good. “Glad to see you made it, buddy.”
He sat down on his makeshift bed and bent over to pet the animal. No evidence of singed fur, he was pleased to note. “I hate to tell you this, but your cat food got burnt up, bud. There’s a little bit of kibble left in that bowl on the workbench, but that’s it.”
“Meow.”
The cat sprang to the mattress and rubbed up against David’s side. He’d never known the animal to be so affectionate. Had the fire scared him? Maybe the poor guy was tired of being alone and had thought he’d lost his only friend in the world. The thought made David’s throat close up.
They sat there like that until the crunching sound of car tires on gravel made the cat hop to the ground and disappear under the bed. David stood up, his nerves humming. He didn’t expect Ray to drive up, guns blazing, but you never knew.
Not Ray. Liz. Next worst thing, he murmured under his breath. He couldn’t pretend that a part of him wasn’t overjoyed to see her, but the realist inside him wanted to shut the door and pretend to be gone.
She got out of the car and waved. Too late.
“Hey, I just left Zeke. He said you’d decided to stick around a few days. Good. I’m glad.”
He shrugged. “My truck isn’t going anywhere. Fast.”
They both looked at the burned-out shell.
“That’s why I’m here. Zeke said you’d probably appreciate a shower and a decent meal. So come on. Let’s go.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. “Why not? I’m taking you to my house, not Mom’s. I have a high-tech alarm on the doors and windows. Zeke’s planted some kind of bug in my car. I know self-defense.” She dropped into an exaggerated pose that made him chuckle. “I’m not the chef my sister is, but I promise not to drug or poison you.”
He hesitated. The idea of crawling into his miserable little cot without a shower wasn’t too appealing. And they could probably stop at a store on the way back for some decent cat food for Scar.
“Oh, that reminds me,” she exclaimed. “I brought your cat a couple of cans of food from home. I hope he’s not too picky.”
She dashed to the car and returned with a selection of beef, chicken and fish-flavored meals.
“How’d you know he was back?”
She paused. “I didn’t. He is, though, right?”
David nodded.
“Good. Then, shall we feed him and leave? I have short ribs in the Crock-Pot, but I still need to make a salad.”
He took a deep breath. The smell of burned wood was etched into his nostrils and he nearly gagged. He needed a break—if only to breathe fresh air. And she was offering food to boot. His stomach made a sound very similar to Scar’s plaintive mewl. She wanted to feed him, and damned if he could say no.
Chapter 13
Dinner was a simple affair. Beef, lots of it. Succulent and tender, seasoned with a soy barbecue sauce of Kate’s. Salad topped with Romantique’s house dressing and fresh bread she’d picked up when she’d stopped for the cat food. She’d lied about taking cans from her roommates’ stash. She hadn’t wanted David to think she’d gone to a lot of effort. After all, she hadn’t been sure he’d accept her invitation.
But he’d come.
He’d made use of her shower and changed into clothes provided by Kate—or, rather, Rob. The newlyweds had spent the first night of their honeymoon in their new home and were presently winging their way to Tahiti—a wedding gift from Rob’s father and his wife. Before leaving for the airport, Kate had called to tell Liz that Rob, who was similar in height and build to David, had left a bag of clothes on the porch.
Liz had been touched that the couple had taken the time and effort to help out a relative stranger. Not that she was surprised. Roms were by nature a generous lot, and it didn’t take much to make a person “family.” Just knowing your sister cared for a guy could mean he was one of them, apparently.
“More wine?” she asked.
They were dining at a wrought-iron café table in her backyard. Twilight had descended and she’d lit two fat candles on a nearby hand-me-down baker’s rack that she’d spray-painted brick-red. Her collection of plants was nothing compared to David’s, but the spider plant on the top shelf was lush, with tiny white flowers and oodles of babies.
He held out his glass. “This is good. What is it?”
She showed him the label. Chianti that she’d stocked up on when the liquor store near her mom’s had held a going-out-of-business sale.
“Everything is delicious. I haven’t had a meal like this since…well, last night,” he said with a grin.
Liz laughed. The food at the wedding had been phenomenal, she had to agree. “My sister is an amazing chef. I’m surprised you’ve never eaten at Romantique before.”
“I never met anyone I wanted to take to dinner,” he said, simply. “Until you.”
His wistful tone grabbed her by the imagination and wouldn’t let go. She’d been picturing their could-have-beens all day. They could have been lovers. They could have laughed and teased and played together. They could have gardened, replanted her yard and really driven up the value of her house to impress those darn appraisers.
She still hadn’t heard back from the bank about her loan. Her gut said it was hopeless. Even if she got the money to initiate the home study and start the paperwork necessary for a foreign adoption, there was still the cost of getting Prisha to the United States, once the adoption was approved.
“Where are your roommates?” David asked, bringing her back to the present.
“Visiting Reezira’s family in Arizona. Her aunt sent both girls bus tickets. They were so excited. These past months they’ve been in a kind of legal limbo, not knowing if they’re coming or going. Canada doesn’t want them back. Romania doesn’t give a damn about them. And the U.S. immigration is a bureaucratic nightmare.”
He nodded. “I understand completely. I had to deal with a lot of conflicting information when I first contacted the Justice Department. With the advent of Homeland Security, the communication between government agencies has gotten more complicated. Doing business with any branch can be very frustrating.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Selling out my boss? No. Giving up my life? Hell, yes.”
“What would you be doing right now if you were Paul McAffee, instead of David Baines?”
His hand seemed to flinch when she used his real name, but his voice remained impassive when he said, “Working in my lab.”
“On a Sunday evening?”
He nodded. “I was the guy who gave workaholics a bad name.”
No wonder your wife divorc
ed you, she almost said.
“My values changed for a while right after I got married. Having kids around was a real treat, and I made an effort to get home in time for dinner at least four days a week.”
Her look must have been obvious because he laughed and said, “I know. Pathetic, right? At the time, it felt like a huge concession. No wonder my wife got involved with the guy next door.”
She winced. “Nobody deserves that. I mean, if she wanted a change, she could have suggested counseling or something.”
He smiled and took another sip of wine. “She did. I was too busy. By then, I had a pretty good idea that the wonder drug my boss was pushing through clinical trials was a disaster waiting to happen.”
“You had to deal with your wife’s defection, a divorce and your life’s work disintegrating all at the same time? Wow. How’d you keep it together?”
He snickered softly. “Who said I did?”
Neither spoke for a minute or two, then David said, “I guess the drama in the lab had me so shook up it sort of lessened the blow of Kay’s leaving me. She’d only been gone about six months when it became obvious that what was happening at Norcross, the company I worked for, was going to end badly. At that point, I became completely preoccupied with getting out alive.”
Impulsively, she reached out and covered the hand resting on the table. “I was in a situation like that once. The mind is an amazingly adaptive organ. Your focus shifts and tightens when self-preservation is on the line.”
He turned his hand palm up and squeezed her fingers gently. “Can you talk about what happened?”
“You already know the gist of it. I was attacked by two men. They seemed to materialize out of the shadows. I walked the same path every day and had never been threatened. I honestly felt sure the red cross on my jacket made me invincible.” She laughed at her naiveté.
“I’ve never understood bullies—even though I worked for one. He was a corporate shark, dressed in designer suits and Italian shoes. He paid lip service to community and social issues and women’s rights, but he drove a Hummer, he hated minorities—even though he’s part Hispanic—and he only dated very young women with very large…bank accounts. Don’t ask me what they saw in him.”
Risky Baby Business Page 14