by Dobbs, L. A.
An awkward silence fell once she’d finished, only the sound of Peaches’ tail thumping against the cushions filling the air and for once, Alison didn’t have the guts to look at Owen for fear of what she’d see.
Disapproval? Most likely. Disappointment? Quite possibly.
Disgust?
She wouldn’t blame him for being disgusted, she’d stolen the identity of an innocent baby to save herself, gone underground like a coward, retreated when she should’ve charged forward to prevent a catastrophe.
“Wow.” Owen exhaled and rubbed a hand over his face. “What about the casino?”
“What about it?”
“Why were you at the Lucky Ace?”
“With all the risks, getting a job to support myself is impossible. So I put the skills I have to good use.”
“You always intended to run the next time things got dicey?”
“Yeah. A girl’s got to survive.”
“What about Faye? She’s your friend. That’s a big risk with your past, right?”
Alison laughed. “Have you ever tried denying Faye what she wants?”
Owen chuckled. “Yeah, I have actually. Not exactly easy.”
“No, it’s not. Once that girl sets her mind on something, she gets it. She wanted me as her friend and she got me.”
“Right.” He took her hand, the one resting on Peaches’ back, and held firm. “Anything else I need to know about you?”
“I think that’s enough, don’t you?”
He laced their fingers together and leaned back. Peaches jumped down and wandered over to her bowls in the kitchen. Owen pulled her closer to him and she went without resistance, cuddling up into his side. She’d never felt safer, more protected, more cared for..
Alison buried her nose in his chest and inhaled deeply of his spicy, clean scent. Owen wove the fingers of his free hand through her hair and grinned. “So, what should I call you? Alison? Heather?”
She straightened and did her best to get a hold of herself. “I like Alison. She feels like me now. I’m a different person than I was at Copernatech.”
“Okay. Alison it is.” He pulled her close again, seemingly missing her as much as she missed him. His deep voice rumbled through his chest beneath her ear. “I have one more question.”
“All right?” The hint of hurt in his voice made her worries soar once more. Her own words emerged more hesitant than she’d wanted. “Go ahead.”
“What happened between us… Was that a lie too?”
She sat up and placed her hand over his heart, the steady beat grounding her in the connection between them. “No. That was all truth.”
Owen cupped her cheek and ran his thumb along the high ridge of her cheekbone.“You do care about me, at least a little, then?”
“A little?” She nuzzled into his palm and placed a kiss there before snorting. “More like a concave up function.”
He scrunched his nose and gave her an impassive stare. “Sorry. I’m too mathematically challenged to know what the hell that means.”
“It means they’re constantly increasing.” She giggled and dropped a kiss on his lips.
“So, yes?”
“Yes.” If she was honest, she’d gone well past like days ago and was now on a direct collision course with love where Owen Rockford was concerned.
Not that she’d tell him. Not yet.
Not until she dealt with her past and knew where he stood on their future together.
This time when she kissed him, it was long and deep, expressing all the words and feelings she couldn’t say.
Minutes later, when they both came up for air, Owen whispered, “Stay with me tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll go to Blake’s and get his help. He’ll be able to get a clear handle on your situation. I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”
Her breath caught at the possibilities he offered—a future, a relationship, a real life again. She wanted those things, with him, more than anything in the world, but wouldn’t allow herself to believe they were possible yet.
Tonight though? One night I can do.
“Okay.” Alison rested her forehead against Owen’s and looked deep into his warm brown gaze as her stomach rumbled. “I’d like that. But first, can you feed me?”
* * *
“God, that smells amazing!” Alison peeked around Owen’s side an hour later and snatched a slice of green pepper from the pile. “What is it again and when will it be ready?”
“Steak stir-fry and a few more minutes.” He slapped her hand away as she went back to snatch another bite. “I can’t believe you’re still hungry after all the bites you’ve stolen.”
“I’m starved.” She pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. “Did you know a statistician can have his head in an oven and his feet in ice, and he’ll say on average he feels fine?”
“Is that another bad math joke?”
“It’s a very good math joke, actually.”
“Whatever you say.”
“I say.” She giggled.
He narrowed his eyes at her, one hand still on the handle of the pan. “I wonder…”
The way he looked at her made her nervous. “What? What do you wonder?”
“What you looked like as a kid.”
“Ugh.” She leaned forward and rested her head against his chest, right over his heart, enjoying the steady, reassuring thump, thump, thump of his pulse. Although it was a ploy to hide her flaming face, she relaxed the moment his free arm settled around her. “Believe me, nothing to write home about.”
“Was your hair always this red?” He picked up a curl and twined it around his fingers.
“Yeah. I used to get made fun of for it all the time. Well, that and my brain.”
“People made fun of your brain?” Owen raised his head to squint down at her. “I think your brain’s amazing. I don’t understand half of what comes out of your mouth, but it’s still amazing.”
She giggled and kissed his chest. “Thanks. It’s okay. I’m over it now. It’s just hard being the different kid, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.” From the sad note in his voice, she got the sense that he did. She wanted to ask more, but his stomach grumbled loud this time and he laughed. “You ready for dinner?”
“Is a forty-five-degree angle acute?”
“Pretty sure I remember the answer from high school geometry.” He tossed her a grin and pulled the pan off the stove. “But I’ll take that as a yes.”
15
Alison awoke to the sound of scratching.
Squinting into the pre-dawn grayness, she spotted Peaches standing near the door. Beside her, spooned against her back, all warm and delicious, was Owen, His soft snores echoed as she propped up on one elbow and pushed the hair from her eyes. The warm weight of his arm around her felt like heaven on earth and she couldn’t help saying a little prayer of thanks that she’d decided to talk to him, to finally open up and let someone in before taking off again.
Now, she had the possibility of a future, the possibility of love.
Now I have hope.
She cleared her throat and made kissy noises at the dog. “What’s the matter, girl? Do you need to go outside, huh?”
Peaches padded over and whined.
“Okay.” Alison stood and pulled on her clothes from the day before then quietly led the dog from the room so as not to wake Owen. “Let’s find your leash and I’ll take you downstairs.”
After getting the dog ready, she slipped her feet into her sneakers and pulled on her hoodie before heading out of the apartment. She could only imagine her hair looked like some kind of crimson nightmare after sleeping and she hadn’t taken the time to do more than run her fingers through it before leaving his place, but at this early hour, who cared?
The elevator took her and Peaches down to the lobby and she walked outside into the crisp air then around the corner to a small patch of grass with a tree near the curb. Owen’s place was close enough to Fremont Street and the Lucky Ace that tourists sti
ll milled about and the traffic was as thick as it was at noon. This little side street, however, was blissfully deserted.
“C’mon, girl.” She coaxed Peaches to get her business done faster while bouncing from foot to foot. “I don’t know about you, but I’m chilly out here.”
The dog obediently sniffed the tree trunk several times then chose her spot and squatted. Moments later, she kicked her back legs a few times then trotted excitedly, panting.
“What is it, girl?” Alison grinned down at Peaches then scratched her behind the ears. “Did you get your business done? Did you? That’s such a good girl. Yes, it is.”
A slight whistle sounded near her ear, followed by a spray of wood chips.
Wood chips? That’s weird.
Confused, Alison straightened and looked around.
Another whistle sounded, followed by something hot grazing her shoulder.
What the…?
Several thoughts popped into her head simultaneously. First, there were now round holes in the tree trunk where before there’d been none. Second, her T-shirt stuck to her shoulder and something wet trickled down her skin like she’d been injured. Like she’d been shot.
Sharp stinging soon followed.
Oh. God.
I’ve been shot. Someone’s shooting at me.
Copernatech!
She dove out of the way as a third bullet whizzed by and Peaches’ leash slipped from her hand. The dog, ears back and tail down, bolted fast around the corner, leaving Alison alone.
Crap.
Pressed tight against the wall of the apartment building, she battled against her rising panic. They’d finally found her and of course they wanted her dead. She needed to run. She needed to hide. She needed to warn Owen and Faye so they’d be safe.
Think. Think. Think.
She leaned forward slightly and peered down the street. A hooded figure approached from around the corner, the streetlights glinting off the barrel of a gun, and for a moment she froze with fear.
Run. Hide. Escape.
Fight-or-flight took over in the nick of time and she raced away, her mind whirring with self-recriminations at near light-speed. She should’ve never been stupid enough to believe it was all over, that she was safe, that she might have the future of her dreams. Happy endings only happened in movies.
Throat tight and chest burning, she charged forward, tears in her eyes as she headed for the main street where there would be other people, hoping the assassin wouldn't shoot where anyone else was around. Forget the money she had stashed in her duffle. Forget Faye had been her best and closest friend in years. Forget the life she’d built here, the relationships, the love.
Worst of all, I never got to say goodbye.
Alison ran and ran and ran, without looking back. Block after block until she finally stopped and hazarded a look behind her. The bad guy was gone, for now giving her time to dwell on her next issue.
I’ve got nothing. No money. No ID. No phone.
She walked on for several more blocks, searching for a place to hide and think. At last, she came across an abandoned warehouse, its rusty door hanging from the hinges. She slipped inside and found a somewhat dry and clean place to crouch in the shadows. Every sound echoed off the corrugated steel walls, reminding her the danger was far from over. If she’d discovered this place, chances were good that others had too.
Others whose motives might not prove as honorable as hers.
The last thing she needed was to get mugged, especially since she didn’t have anything. She pulled her hoodie tighter around herself and leaned back against the cool metal wall, the superficial wounds on her shoulder still seeping and aching. Without means, she wouldn’t get far and honestly, she really didn’t want to leave Vegas.
Before, it had always just been her, alone against the world.
Now, she had Faye and Owen and her apartment and Peaches and…
No. This time, I stay.
This time I’ll make a stand against Copernatech and all the big corporate bullies of the world, exposing them for what they are: greedy cowards.
Pulling her knees into her chest, Alison rested her chin atop them and focused on what she still had. Her mind. Math was what she did best, so math is what she’d use to get her out of this mess.
The police would require proof that the pharmaceutical giant was behind the attack. They’d need to capture the thug who’d shot at her and any accomplices he might have. In order to make that happen, however, probability said she’d need something to draw them out.
I’ll use myself as bait.
They were currently watching Owen’s apartment building, so she needed to get them away from there to keep everyone safe, lure them to someplace where she’d have the upper hand, somewhere she’d have the advantage.
The Boneyard.
Her fear dissipated, replaced now by resolve. The boneyard was the place where old Vegas signs were retired. Giant hulks of rusted metal and broken neon crowded the lot. She’d scoped the place out shortly after arriving in Vegas, thinking it would be a perfect spot for an ambush, if the need ever arose.
Alison pushed to her feet and dusted off her hands on the thighs of her jeans.
Goal and plan in place, she headed for the warehouse door.
Yep. The time’s here.
Time for Alison James to take her hard-earned life back.
* * *
Woof. Woof. Woof.
Owen rolled over and slung his arm across his eyes. The first streaks of sun were piercing through the bedroom curtains. He smiled despite the early hour and fumbled his hand over to the mattress beside him.
Empty.
Frowning, he lifted his arm and peered sideways at the vacant spot where Alison should’ve been. What the hell? He didn’t even remember her getting up.
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
Groaning, he rolled out of bed and tugged on his jeans before padding to the bedroom door. He yanked it open, expecting Peaches to charge in, but nothing.
Weird. Owen walked down the hall, scowling as he approached the front door and the desperate canine whines grew louder. The apartment didn’t have a doggy door, so how in the hell had Peaches gotten out?
He opened the door and the dog scrambled inside, slipping and sliding on the hardwood floor, trembling all over. Her leash trailed behind her in ominous warning. Alison must’ve taken her for a walk, but when he peered out into the hallway, there was no sign of Alison.
Peaches practically pawed a hole through his leg, so Owen crouched and did his best to calm her. “What’s wrong, girl? Huh? Where’s Alison?”
At the mention of her name, Peaches cried and Owen’s heart tripped.
The stories she’d told him about her corrupt former employer and their shady tactics to the news of their failure silently resurfaced, cooling his blood to ice in his veins.
Have they finally found her? Have they taken her? Hurt her? Worse?
She'd said her contact had indicated it was all-clear. Had something changed? He'd never asked her just exactly how she communicated with her contact ... the envelope under the bench!
Things had heated up so fast between them the night before he'd never mentioned the envelope to Alison, but that must have been their method of communication. Alison thought it was all clear except she'd never gotten that last message because Blake's people had intercepted it. Had that message contained the code phrase that would have alerted Alison that Copernatech was onto her? Now she was in danger and it was his fault!
Straightening, he stalked into the kitchen and grabbed his cell phone from the charger. If anyone so much as damaged one hair on Alison’s head, he’d murder them. Quickly, he thumbed the speed dial button for Blake and left a curt message then did the same on Liv’s number. If someone had abducted Alison, the Rockfords were his best shot for getting her back.
While he waited for them to arrive, he took a quick shower and put on fresh jeans and a T-shirt then fixed a still nervous Peaches some breakfa
st before getting himself a much-needed cup of joe. Twenty minutes later, he answered a pounding on his door to find his cousins on the other side.
“I’ll need to know everything, from the beginning.” Blake charged in and took a seat on the sofa, letting Henry jump from his shoulder to the back cushions. “The whole truth.”
“All I know is what she told me last night.” Owen scrubbed a hand through his still damp hair and took a seat in an armchair across from Blake. “But I believe her.”
“Good.” Blake pulled out a tablet computer from inside his jacket. “Start with the basics.”
“Her real name is Heather Connors. She’s twenty-eight and holds a Master’s Degree in mathematics. She worked for a pharmaceutical company named Copernatech, on a team working with a new cancer vaccine. She’d been hired to analyze the data from the clinical trials and determine results of success or failure as part of their FDA approval process. But she said they didn’t like her interpretation of the data—the vaccine did more harm than good—and when she went to the execs about the potentially deadly side effects, they brushed her aside. At that point, she turned whistleblower and went to a reporter with the information. The reporter later turned up dead, before the story could break. Then she said the company broke into her home and stole all of her research and notes on the project. That’s when Alison went underground and she’s been on the run ever since.”
“All right.” Blake frowned at his tablet screen, his thumbs flying across the screen as he typed in Owen’s information. “I’m sending this to the IT team. If this checks out, we’ll get to the bottom of everything. I promise.”
“Thanks, man.” He rubbed his eyes and bumped his shoulder against Liv, who’d taken a seat on the arm of his chair. “I really appreciate you both coming over here.”
“No problem.” Liv ruffled his hair. “That’s what family’s for.”
“Right.” He took his empty mug to the kitchen then paced the small living room. “Shit. I just feel like I need to do something, be out there looking for her, you know?”