Falling for Her

by Sandra Owens

  With the five thousand in her bag, the five she’d get when the bank opened, and the last five she’d pick up when she passed through San Antonio, she’d be in better shape than when she’d gone on the run the first time. Not wanting to repeat the desperation she’d felt back then, she’d come up with the idea of hiding money along the escape route she’d planned if the time ever came to leave. Whenever she’d managed to accumulate five thousand dollars over the past two years, she’d taken a little trip, the first one to San Antonio.

  “I’m one smart cookie,” she told Junior, feeling rather proud of herself for her foresight. Smart, alone, and lonely, that was her. No, she wouldn’t go there. She’d made her choice, and she was Sugar, and Sugar looked on the bright side of everything.

  Except she wasn’t Sugar any longer; she was Nikki Swanson, or would be as soon as she walked out of the bank in New Orleans. The box in Texas was in Nikki Swanson’s name. That would give her between now and her arrival in San Antonio to create a new persona.

  So, who was Nikki Swanson?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Jamie had circled the complex after leaving Sugar, unable to get out of his mind the way she’d looked as he walked out the door. Not seeing any suspicious cars, he found a place to park a few spaces down from her front door. Then he snuck over to her little car and put the magnetic tracking device in her wheel well.

  Two hours later, realizing he was nodding off, and since all was quiet and her lights were out, he decided it was safe to slip down to the convenience store a few blocks from her house. Inside, after a quick pit stop, he grabbed the largest cup and filled it with coffee. He was back in place in less than ten minutes.

  Her ugly orange car was gone. Of course it was. Jamie slammed his hand down on the steering wheel. “Damnit, Sugar, you couldn’t wait ten minutes?” What if she hadn’t left willingly, but had been taken? He doubted they—whoever they were—would use the little car as the getaway vehicle, but he broke into her condo anyway. There was no sign of a struggle, which was a relief. The refrigerator was empty, but he had no idea if she cooked when home. Most telling, her cat was gone. If someone had come for her, they wouldn’t have taken Junior.

  After checking all the rooms, he left the way he came in, through the back door. A large garbage bag was set off to the side on the grass. He opened it to find cartons and containers of food, still cold to the touch.

  She had run. No surprise there. He’d been expecting it, just hadn’t planned for her to do it in the less than ten minutes he was gone. “What am I going to do with you, Sugar?” he asked as he returned to his car. It was a question to which he didn’t have an answer.

  At K2, Jamie determined her whereabouts, then picked up the phone. “Sugar ran and appears to be heading for New Orleans,” he said into the phone.

  “Kismet,” Jake said, not at all sounding like he’d been awakened from sleep.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means we’re in New Orleans, and how ironic is that? Hi, Jamie.”

  The change from a male voice to a feminine one was a bit disconcerting. “Hey, Maria. I hate to bother the two of you, but I’ve got a bad feeling, and I need to find her. Are we on speaker?”

  “We are,” Jake answered, and Jamie heard the rustle of bedsheets.

  “I’m headed that way now.” He bit down on his anxiety, feeling guilty that he was interrupting their time away.

  “Why don’t you let us handle this end, and you keep tabs on her whereabouts.”

  Not gonna happen. “No. Don’t approach her. She’s running scared, and I don’t want to spook her. I called Doc, and he’s on the way in. He’ll track her for us. Just keep an eye on her until I get there.”

  “I just checked my e-mail, and there’s one from Sugar. She apologized for taking a job she couldn’t accept and said she knew I’d understand,” Maria said.

  “I wish I understood.” Ryan O’Connor poked his head in, and Jamie motioned him to take a seat.

  “It’ll take me a few hours to get there,” he said. “Is there anything you can tell me, Maria, that will help?”

  “Her real name’s Hannah Conley. The rest you can get from her.”

  “Thanks.” Hanging up, he brought Doc up to speed. “Sorry about dragging you out of bed, especially when I know you’re supposed to be off tomorrow.”

  O’Connor’s gaze shifted to the satellite map on the wall. “Not like I had anything better to do.”

  In the few days he’d been onboard, it was obvious that even after a year, his friend still had some deep hurt over the loss of his wife. Jamie could appreciate that. Almost eleven years had passed and his heart still mourned the loss of his parents. When things settled back down, he would make a point to get Doc out, introduce him around.

  “Keep me updated,” he said on the way out the door. Making a detour to the kitchen, he tossed some ice into a cooler, and then added four bottles of root beer. From the pantry, he grabbed a handful of energy bars. After a quick stop in the bathroom, he left K2 to hunt down his prey.

  Once on the interstate heading west, Jamie flipped on his radar detector, bringing the car to fifteen miles over the speed limit. Nothing but questions tumbled through his mind. Was her final destination New Orleans? Did she know someone there? Was Hannah Conley her real name or just another alias?

  Impossible to think of her as a Hannah. The name didn’t fit the woman he knew. His violet-eyed, messed-up girl—one minute funny and confident, the next vulnerable and hurting—was a Sugar through and through.

  When he caught up with her, he’d force her to tell him the story of her life, starting from the day she took her first breath. After he kissed her senseless for scaring a month off his life. As he drove, he listened to O’Connor give Jake updates on Sugar’s movements, appreciating that Doc had thought to put them on a three-way call. By the time he reached the outskirts of New Orleans, he was confident he had a good plan. Get answers. Help her as much as he could. Then figure out what she meant to him.

  Following the directions from Jake, Jamie pulled up next to the Buchanans’ Jeep, where they’d parked across the street from a rundown motel just inside the New Orleans city line. He spied Sugar’s orange car sitting in the motel lot. His dumb heart did flips at the speed of an exuberant gymnast. Clamping down on the excitement he didn’t want to feel, he slid into the backseat of the Jeep.

  “Sorry I screwed up your trip. Bring me up to speed, then you can leave.”

  Maria twisted in her seat and glared at him. “You think we don’t care about her? I’m just glad we’re here so we can help. I think you two should stay in the car, and let me go talk to her. She did confide in me after all.”

  That burned. “No, this is my operation from here on. I’d prefer it if you left.”

  “But—”

  “No, Chiquita, let’s leave Saint and his woman alone.” Jake gave his wife a wicked grin. “’Sides, I’ve got plans for you. If the idiot sitting in our backseat had taken care of business and not let his woman get this far, I’d be feeding you hot Beignets and café au lait right now. In bed.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, wife. Get out of my car, Saint. If you need us again, you got our number.”

  Jamie wanted to protest that Sugar wasn’t his woman—at least not yet—but he wanted them gone even more. After they drove away, he eyed Sugar’s car. What should he do next? Find out what room she was in, then knock on the door? What would he say? “Hi, I’m in the neighborhood and decided to stop by”? Would she welcome him in, or would she slam the door in his face?

  “I was doing just fine before you wormed your way into my life, sweetheart.” So he was talking to himself? Great. Nor did he appreciate how indecisive she’d made him. He was trained to make decisions on the spot, life-and-death ones, and it was time to confront the woman who’d run from him.

  As
he headed for the office, figuring he’d have to wake someone up, an older model Hyundai with a magnetic sign on its door turned into the motel parking lot. The driver’s head angled to look at door numbers as he slowly drove by the rooms, then pulled up behind Sugar’s car.

  How had she found a pizza delivery at nine in the morning? He chuckled. “Oh, right, we’re in New Orleans, and this is Sugar you’re talking about.” But the timing was perfect, and he grabbed two unopened root beers from the cooler on the passenger seat. Jogging across the lot, he came up beside the pizza delivery kid.

  “Just popped over to the convenience store to get some sodas.” He dangled the bottles in front of the boy’s face. “Thought I’d beat you back. How much I owe you?” he asked, reaching for his wallet.

  The teen’s brows furrowed as he frowned at Jamie. “You don’t look like a Janie Turner to me, dude.”

  The little witch had more or less stolen his name, but in doing so, she’d certainly made it easy for him. He flipped his wallet open and held it up so the kid could read the name on his driver’s license. “Jamie and Janie Turner. Cute, huh? Well, my wife thinks so anyway. How much?”

  “Eight bucks.”

  He handed the kid a twenty. “Don’t have anything smaller, but if you disappear like right now, it’s all yours.”

  The boy flicked a nervous glance at her motel room before shrugging and then returning to his car. Jamie waited until the taillights disappeared, then approached Sugar’s—aka Hannah’s, aka Janie’s—door. Giving it three knocks, he cleared his throat and changed his voice. “Pizza delivery.”

  At the sound of the lock turning, he stepped against the outer wall, keeping the pizza box where it could be seen if she kept the chain on and peeked out. If she swung the door wide open without checking first, he was going to dump the contents over her head for being stupid.

  She saved herself from having pizza dripping down her face by keeping on the chain. At the sight of the box, she closed the door, slid off the chain, and when she opened it again, he stepped in front of her.

  “Your pizza, ma’am.” It was probably wrong to take such satisfaction in the wide eyes and open mouth. Then her expression turned guarded. She should be wary, considering he wasn’t happy with her right now.

  “Jamie? What’re you doing here?”

  “Beats me.” He pushed past her before she could slam the door in his face. Moving to the middle of the room, he lifted the lid of the box and peered in. “What’d you order us, Sugar?” When he was sure he had her attention, he arched a brow. “Or is it Hannah today . . . oh, wait, it’s Janie Turner according to the delivery man.”

  Her face paled, and he crushed the longing to scoop her up and hold her tight, safe in his arms. “I had to go to a lot of trouble to convince him to turn over the pizza, so I hope I can look forward to the benefits that come with having a wife.” He’d never acted cruel toward a woman before, but this one pushed buttons he didn’t know existed. It was either everything or nothing at all where she was concerned, and she’d sent her message by running. She wanted nothing from him.

  She slid down, planting her butt on the floor. “I can explain.”

  “I certainly hope so.” Making himself at home, he set the root beers on the bedside table, then settled on the bed and leaned back against the pillows. “Want a piece?” He held out the box.

  “Not really hungry right now.”

  “What? Lost your appetite?” Her hair was wet, telling him she’d recently showered, and she wore the same little boxers and strappy T-shirt as the night he’d made love to her. The night he’d almost told her he thought he was falling in love with her. From the first, he’d known she was trouble with a capital T, but he still wanted her, was aroused just looking at her. Tearing his gaze away, he opened the box and lifted a slice of pizza he really didn’t want.

  A furball appeared from nowhere, landing next to him. “Meep.”

  “Hello, Junior. That is your real name, right?” He didn’t like how mean he was feeling, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

  “Meep.”

  He took that as a yes, and picked up a clump of sausage and cheese, putting it on the box top. Although he pointedly ignored Sugar, he subtly watched her out of the corner of his eye, and she’d flinched at his jab. She folded into herself, wrapping her arms around her legs, her head hanging like one who was defeated. Feeling like a jerk, he decided he should give her a chance to explain.

  “This Rodney Vanders; he’s after you, why? Is he just an old boyfriend who doesn’t know how to let go, or is there more to it than that? And, Sugar, see if you can manage the truth.”

  Her head snapped up, fury in her eyes. “Screw you, Jamie. I didn’t ask you to follow me. I don’t even know why you’re here. How did you find me, anyway?”

  Well, he had that coming. Her belligerence was welcome though. Better than her beaten-down attitude of a minute ago. As to why he’d come after her, he still hadn’t figured that one out. Not wanting to admit he’d put a tracking device in her car, he ignored her second question.

  “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. Come here.” He pushed the box aside and scooted over.

  “I don’t think so. Please, I’d like you to leave.”

  Not happening. He wasn’t going anywhere until he got to the bottom of whatever was going on with her. “Did our time together mean nothing to you then?” Low blow maybe, but a question he needed answered.

  She stared hard at him for a moment, then her eyes softened. “It meant everything to me. You’ll never know how much, but I can’t stay in Pensacola, not if he’s found me. So, there’s no future for us. There can’t be, and I won’t drag you into this shit.”

  “Too late. I’m here, and I’m not leaving, so you might as well tell me what’s going on.” His gaze zoned in on the bottom lip she chewed on, and he wished she wouldn’t do that.

  “If I tell you, will you leave?”

  No. “Depends on what you say.”

  Her response was a long sigh, then she pushed up, went to her suitcase, and rummaged around in it. If she realized the view of her bottom she’d given him and where it led his thoughts, she’d probably slap him. He was a bad man to be thinking of making love to her when she was clearly upset and afraid. Pulling a sweater out, she wrapped it around her shoulders and tugged on it until it covered her breasts. The room wasn’t cold, so she was hiding herself from him. That only added to his anger.

  With the sweater pulled around the top half of her, she sat on the only chair in the room, curling her legs under her. “Rodney stole seven hundred thousand dollars.”

  “What?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  That got his attention. God, she didn’t want to do this, but Sugar believed him when he said he wasn’t leaving until she explained. There were things she wouldn’t tell him though, only enough so he’d leave.

  “I said Rodney stole seven hundred thousand dollars.” From the kindest woman she’d ever known.

  Junior, having scarfed up the cheese and sausage treat, hopped onto Jamie’s lap and made three turns before curling up and sticking his nose under his tail. Masculine fingers she knew firsthand could make a woman forget her name stroked her cat’s fur, the sound of his purrs the loudest she’d ever heard from him. Really stupid to envy a damn cat, but she did.

  She’d thought to never see Jamie again, yet there he was sitting on the bed of her motel room waiting for answers, and all she could think about was wanting his hands on her. Wanting him to do those magical things to her and bring her to that wonderful feeling again.

  After he heard what she had to say, however, he’d never want to touch her again, a good enough reason to cry an ocean of tears. When he got his answers and walked out for the last time, she’d give herself permission to do just that. She pressed her hand over her heart, wishing it didn’t ache so badly.

 
The blue eyes staring at her hardened. “Sometime today would be good, or are you trying to come up with more lies?”

  It was close, but she managed not to flinch. She had that coming, she supposed, but it still hurt. Resentment simmered at the coldness in the gaze he leveled at her. He didn’t know what she’d lived through and managed to escape from, so what gave him the right to judge her?

  Inhaling a deep breath, she looked him square in the eyes. She’d be damned if she’d cower in front of him. “Fine. You want to know my sad story?” Unable to hold his gaze, she focused on Junior, still asleep on Jamie’s lap. “On my tenth birthday, my mother died suddenly, and nothing was the same after that. Unable to cope with her loss, my father went on a downward spiral, drinking heavily, gambling . . . honestly, I probably don’t know the half of it. He was a Charleston cop, had been an honorable one up ’til then, but he ended up getting fired. We lost our home, and he moved us into public housing.”

  God, it was hard remembering that time in her life, watching her daddy turn into a man she didn’t recognize. “He rarely came home anymore, and it was too dangerous to leave the apartment so I took refuge in schoolwork. My grades were perfect, but there was no one home to care.” Why was she telling him that much? She could’ve gone straight to the theft, but the part of her that craved his respect wanted him to understand how she came to such lows.

  “You’re going to pick that sweater apart if you keep pulling on it.”

  She glanced down to see she was tugging on a loose piece of yarn, and not knowing what else to do with her hands, she clasped them tightly, resting them on her lap.

  “Go on. Tell me the rest.”

  Taking some comfort in the softening of his voice, she eyed the root beers, wishing she had one to soothe her dry throat. As if reading her mind, he reached for one and twisted the cap. Just as she was about to ask if she could have one too, he held it out.