There went his blood pressure rising again. One way tickets? So she really had planned on leaving him—for good.
He kept holding on to the hope that she was just taking a short break. Maybe trying to prove a small point. A little blunder he might even be able to forgive and forget. In time.
But this? This was a clear undermining of his authority. This was something he could never, ever forgive and would be a cold day in hell before he forgot.
“Mr. Prichard, would you like to make arrangements for another flight, maybe use them for yourself, and a friend?” she said, lowering her voice on the last word.
Now that’s subtle, he thought. Why had he hooked up with this twit again after the funeral for that damn police horse? And why was she still breathing to make this phone call? Ah, yes. Her uncle.
He decided it best to let the insinuation he use the tickets and take her along slide. Playing hard to get apparently wasn’t one of her strongest attributes. Her uncle being the chief of police would keep her alive for the time being. Lucky girl.
“No, not this time.” He turned on the charm. “You can help me, though.” He rubbed his temple, to keep his anger in check long enough to get the information he needed. “Just how were these tickets purchased?” He gritted his teeth, awaiting the answer.
“Well, I’m not supposed to do this, but since it’s you,” she said as the sound of keys clicked over the line.
The wait was torture. His mind raced, ninety miles an hour. What the hell was Makayla going to do in New York? She didn’t have any friends there. At least none he’d ever met.
“No.” The word singed the tip of his tongue as it slipped from his lips in a whisper. No, he’d never believe it. She hadn’t met someone else. He’d never given her any time for that.
“Steven, it appears she paid with a credit card in another name.”
“What name?” This slut having the balls to use his first name infuriated him further. They were not, nor would they ever be, on a first name basis. His breathing surged dangerously close to hyperventilating.
“Mrs. Karen Meyers.”
Gotcha, my pet.
Just as he thought. Her meddling mother. How dare this woman interfere in their business? He thought he’d been able to cut all ties between them years ago. How many other things had he thought taken care of that weren’t?
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Steven? I do have this weekend off.” Her words were bathed in sensual undertones.
Steven didn’t even bother to respond. She had no idea how close she was to meeting her maker. Stupid twit. Lucky for her, finding Makayla and teaching her the lesson of her life came first.
He slammed the receiver down so hard it split the base right down the middle. But that wasn’t good enough. With one hand, he picked the phone up and pulled the wires from the wall, tossing it through the frosted pane of the French doors leading to their bedroom. Images of Makayla, their love making, endangered his resolve. She was his. Would always be his.
A gut wrenching yell erupted from deep within him and he swiped his hand across his desk, sending the contents to the floor in a heap. Maverick yelped in pain when a crystal picture frame hit him square on the head, sending him scurrying to the other side of the room to lick his wounds.
Fists now clenched tight by his side, Steven stared down at the photo left behind of Makayla dressed in a black business suit, her long dark hair in a tight bun on top of her head. He smiled, remembering what he’d made her wear underneath the sophisticated outfit. She’d hated every minute of that photo shoot. Said it made her feel like a whore as he’d had her strip down to nothing while the photographer caught every breathtaking moment with his camera. Oh, what a glorious night it had been afterward. His toes curled at the thought.
“You will never be free, Myka.” Now he knew where she was headed. All that was left to do was figure out how she planned to get there and then get there first.
“I will find you.”
Chapter Three
Makayla studied the tall stranger as he took the keys for the rental car from the parking attendant and headed further into the dark garage. He stood just under six feet, broad shouldered and solid. His body language screamed “bad boy,” and yet, there was another overpowering air about him that made her think of security and super heroes.
Ridiculous and vulnerable, that summed up her current state of mind. She had no idea who this strange man was in front of her and yet she followed, completely depending on him to help her get away. An escape he was clueless about. She had no right to let him get involved, to put him in this much danger. He’d never done anything to deserve Steven’s wrath. And wrath is exactly what this man would see as well as feel if they were found together.
“Look, if you can just drive us out of this storm, I’ll get our own rental car in the next town. I’ll even pay you half for this one. That way you can go your way and we’ll go ours.” Her cheeks were warm by the time she finished the last sentence. He’d stopped and turned to look back at her, his eyes holding hers with such intensity as she spoke it scared her to death. The awkwardness built with each uneven breath. The last thing she wanted was to reveal her secrets or wondering thoughts and give him the upper hand. She shifted Michael’s weight to her other hip and took a deep breath.
Gosh, he was handsome. Those amazing blue eyes were enhanced by deep wrinkles set between dark brows. She decided the lines were probably caused by the frown that appeared permanently engraved there and she couldn’t help but wonder what had caused his pain. Even through his tough exterior, the anguish of his own life was clear. She shivered as her attention rested on the long ragged mark disfiguring the left side of his neck and collarbone. Its broad size and cross ridges betrayed the truth. The wound had been deep and ghastly.
Scars left permanent damage both inside and out.
A fact she knew all too well.
“Why don’t we discuss the details of our arrangement when we get out of this mess?” He shifted the bag to the other shoulder, strategically covering the evidence of his own secrets and stepped forward resting a warm hand on her elbow. His thumb innocently moved back and forth over the inside her arm.
“I guess that will work.” Makayla felt breathless, from not only his touch, but also the emotion in his voice. His intentions seemed honorable, but in truth this man had just stolen the last car right out from under her nose. Didn’t his callousness make him no different from Steven? She shouldn’t have to share. She was obviously in the right and had been at the rental counter first, but wasn’t even given the chance to say no. It didn’t matter that deep down she knew there was little chance she’d ever make it out in this storm by herself. That she’d been praying for a different way out.
Why then, did she feel safe with this man? It just didn’t make sense. After all she’d been through. After all the mistakes she’d made, why wasn’t she any smarter? This take charge attitude was what had attracted her to Steven in the beginning. She should be running in the opposite direction so fast no one could even make out her skin color. But no, here she stood. A man twice her size offering to help her when he didn’t even know her name.
Most people didn’t do that without a motive.
She had to be crazy. Stupid just wasn’t a strong enough word.
“Is he okay?”
Turning her attention to Michael, she stroked his hair as he lay against her chest. “Yeah, he’s just tired.” Her son was all she had now. Really all she’d ever had. And it was a miracle he’d even survived.
It was touch and go at the hospital the day she’d told Steven she was pregnant and he went ballistic on her. That was when everything really changed for the worse. Steven didn’t want children. He’d made that pretty clear before they married. But she hadn’t planned it like he thought. She’d been on the pill, taken every one faithfully. Even her doctor assured her that these things just happen. Sometimes, things are just meant to be.
And sometimes, things a
re not.
“We should get going then.” The tall stranger’s gruff voice rippled through the half open window of the passenger side door. So deep in thought, she hadn’t even heard him open his door much less realized they’d reached their destination.
“Yes. Sorry.” Makayla helped Michael into the backseat where he demanded he buckle himself in. She could feel the tension in the air as he struggled with the clasp.
“You should probably help him out.”
“He’ll get it.” She forced a smile as she met the man’s gaze over the seat, trying her best to make the situation lighter.
“Well, if he doesn’t hurry we’re not going anywhere.” The snow was coming down harder, the opening to the garage barely visible now. She clutched her hands together, fighting hard to control the panic from showing on her face.
“Hurry, Michael. Mommy’s only going to give you one more try.” Finally, the belt clicked into place. Relief rushed over her as her son grinned triumphant.
She could have helped him, knew she probably should have since time was not on their side, but the ride would have been anything but peaceful from then on out. Michael had to do things his own way no matter the cost. A bad trait he inherited from his father—one she was bound and determined to steer in a better direction.
Despite Michael’s pleased behavior, the drive turned out to be anything but peaceful. The worst snowstorm she’d ever been in was smack dab on top of them. Only two things saved them. The snowplow leading the way in front of them and her rescuer’s expertise behind the wheel.
Once again, luck was on their side. The plow pulled onto the road just as they left the airport. The huge machine’s powerful lights hardly made a dent through the dense snowfall as they struggled to illuminate the street enough to keep them in the right lane, making every single minute seem like an eternity. Makayla kept assuring herself that if the snowplow driver felt it safe enough to plow through the storm, she could trust her companion’s abilities to maintain control as well.
Soon, the uneasiness took over. “What’s your name? I-I mean, what am I supposed to call you?”
He turned briefly to look in her direction with a confused expression. But his attention darted back to the daunting task in front of him.
This really might not be the best time to exchange names. Huge snowflakes hit the windshield before being swiped up to join the others on the wiper blades. Makayla had never seen snow like this. Her fingers were numbing as she sat with a death grip on the door’s armrest, the anxiety in the air increasing with each passing second.
“You can call me Ryan.” It was short and to the point, void of any emotion. But she welcomed any form of communication to divert her thoughts away from the storm.
“Thanks, Ryan. For doing this.”
He grunted with a nod in response.
“Don’t you want to know my name?”
“Sure.” His determined expression never changed.
“It’s Makayla.” He didn’t respond. Well, now she just felt silly. The last thing he wanted or needed was her distracting babble and that fact was proven by his persistent silence. Settling back into her set, she worked hard to keep her thoughts off the weather and on what they would do when they reached the next town.
She needed a new plan.
The tedious drive seemed to drag on for hours with the sound of the plow’s scrapping echoing in the dark night. Exhausted from the lack of sleep the night before and the ordeal of dodging Steven’s goon at the mall, Makayla struggled to keep her lids open. The car was so warm, Michael’s soft breathing from the back seat comforting her frazzled nerves. The last thing she wanted was to fall asleep. She needed to stay alert. Help Ryan watch for danger. And watch him for signs of a threat.
The next thing Makayla knew, she was waking up to the sunshine on her face. Blinking back the haze, she fought to make sense of her situation and work the kinks out of her neck by turning to look out the window. The snow had stopped, the sky clear of all the dark ominous clouds from the night before. A fresh blanket of snow covered the ground and trees, but the road was now clear as far as she could see in front of them. As the sun’s rays glistened off the snow banks, clarity hit.
She’d done it. Actually gotten away. Even when things started falling apart.
But now what?
“Sleep well?” The man beside her was talking, but his tone and attitude had completely transformed. He almost sounded civil.
“Yes, I guess you can say that.” She smiled uneasily over at him and was shocked when he returned one of his own. What a glorious smile it was too. His entire face lit up, those blue eyes full of life.
“Michael woke up a few miles back. I gave him a candy bar to keep him quiet so you could rest.”
Makayla twisted in her seat to peer at her son. His sandy blonde hair shielded most of his features, but the steady rise and fall of his chest assured her he was resting peacefully again.
“Thank you.” This man actually thought of someone else before himself. He’d let her rest and managed to pacify her son. But why? Probably to keep her from asking too many questions so the time would pass peacefully. She decided that had to be it.
“How much further to the next town?” Pulling her purse to her lap, she searched the contents for the plane tickets. She had no idea how the refund policy worked or if they even had one. Flying was not something she’d done a lot of. If she was lucky, the airlines might put her on a connecting flight in the next city. After all, it was the weather that caused her original flight to be cancelled.
Five minutes of searching and a new panic built within her chest to the point it hurt.
Oh, no. She didn’t remember putting them back in her purse after talking with the girl at the ticket counter. How could she be so careless? Placing the large tote on the seat beside her, she started taking every item out, placing it into her lap. They had to be there. They just had to.
She sensed Ryan watching her through his peripheral vision. But he said nothing. Swearing not to break down, she cleared her throat and forced herself to ask, “Have you seen my plane tickets by chance?”
***
“Tickets?” Ryan Carter glanced in her direction and for the first time really studied her delicate features. Her button nose was all wrinkled up, her full mouth puckered in a troubled pout. She was a lot younger than he’d first thought. Those pictures in the FBI file had been misleading in more ways than one. She had deep brown eyes set beneath long dark lashes—eyes that any man could get lost in forever if they weren’t careful. But he was safe. He wasn’t just any man.
She kept digging without a response. “Airplane tickets?” he repeated.
“Yes. I was going to try and exchange them at the next airport, or at least get a refund since my flight was cancelled by the storm.”
“I see.”
“What, you don’t think they’ll refund them?” There was that squeak of panic in her voice again. He wanted to tell her everything was going to be all right from here on out. That he knew who she was and why she was running. But he couldn’t.
“Look, I’ll take you were you need to go.” Not at all a lie. His instructions were to deliver her to the authorities in Texas. And that is exactly what he’d planned to do. That is, before he realized they’d just use her to lure her husband in. She and her son were of little concern to the FBI. They wanted Steven Prichard and would do anything and use anyone to get him.
That was the reason for this little detour. He planned to hide her and her son until he could come up with another plan. He only hoped his previous boss, Special Agent Harrington, understood. Harrington owed him a favor and Ryan intended to collect it now. He just needed to make sure the detour was an uneventful trip. No problem there if he could keep her in the dark and in his vehicle.
“That’s okay. I don’t want to be a bother. And you really don’t want to get involved in my mess. Trust me.” She blinked back the wetness trying to form in the corners of her eyes and lowered h
er gaze.
Good Lord. Was she worried about his wellbeing? Wanting to cut ties with him for his own good? Steven Prichard was not a man you wanted to cross and Ryan knew him all too well. Steven’s name popped up on almost every human trafficking case Ryan had worked for the FBI. Steven Prichard was a huge distributor, not to mention, buyer in the human trafficking circles.
“It’s not a problem. I’m a big boy. I make my own decisions.”
“Thanks, but I’ll manage.” She returned to her tote, searching again.
“I don’t think they’re in there,” he said after about ten minutes of listening to her rustle through loose papers, several envelopes and even her makeup kit. Her determination to find them and the little sighs of despair tore at his resolve.
After turning the now empty bag upside down and shaking it, she drew in a deep breath and turned to look out the window. That’s when he noticed the fresh bruises on her neck. The scarf around her shoulders slid to the side just enough to expose the damage done by hands clearly unconcerned for human life.
His entire body stiffened. “Where on earth did you get those?” He’d reached over and gently stroked the length of the biggest mark before he realized his mistake.
“W-what?” She recoiled immediately, both hands flying to cover her secret. The purse and all its contents she taken out hit the floorboard, spilling about her feet.
He swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry. It’s none of my business.” He turned back to stare at the road, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. The files mentioned alleged abuse, and he’d more than just suspected it that day in the hospital when he’d seen her in person for the first time, but good God. He hadn’t expected anything to this magnitude. The muscles along his jawline flinched violently.
“My soon to be ex-husband has an anger problem.”
Her statement took him totally by surprise. Husband? Did she really believe Steven was her husband or was she trying to throw him off? Whatever her reason for the comment, he didn’t expect her to reveal this private detail, especially to a complete stranger.
Betrayals of the Heart Page 3