He’d believed in his cause. She’d believed in hers.
And now neither of them knew for sure whose cause they were there to protect.
Her money was on Nicole. She’d counseled the woman. And where it mattered, in terms of her motivation, in terms of her heart—her son—Nicole had told the truth.
And the woman had been involved in the bombing of a bridal suite before a wedding. She’d known the couple...
Michael shifted. Just enough to look as though he was shifting in his sleep. She glanced around their limited landscape. Had he seen something?
His hand was inching down.
To get his gun?
She tensed. Waited for his orders. Ready to do whatever she was told.
“Open your legs just a little bit.”
His voice was all there was in that instant. Her mind was foggy. Scrambling to form a thought.
His fingers brushed her knee. Slipped over it. Just above it. Beneath her dress. Resting halfway up her thigh.
She spread her legs an inch. Adjusted their blanket and let her hand drop.
On his stomach.
A couple of inches from his groin.
And thought about his penis.
* * *
THEY COULDN’T HAVE sex on the beach. Michael didn’t intend to try. But touching Sara’s inner thigh, letting his arm rub against her breast and being that intimate with her was keeping him wide-awake.
Alert.
His senses were heightened. In all directions.
He was going to pay for the intimacies later. His body would cry for release. And he’d have to take care of that as a widowed man in his prime often did. Quickly. And alone.
* * *
SARA WAS NO longer as afraid of what the night might bring. She was aware. More tense than relaxed.
But she felt ready.
“Who decorated your place?”
They’d talked about their favorite colors and cars. She wanted a Mercedes, but wouldn’t drive one because it screamed money. They’d already covered favorite restaurants and the types of movies they liked during their sojourn at the pool the afternoon they met.
They’d talked about wine and drinking habits. He was a beer man. She had a softness for good scotch. But only on infrequent occasions.
“How do you know I didn’t decorate it?” she asked.
“It doesn’t feel like you.” He gave her leg a squeeze and she wondered how well he’d come to know her during the past few days. And if she’d grown to know him, as well.
“My mother mostly,” she told him. “It was a housewarming gift.”
“She made all the choices?”
“Yes. She consulted me, but we both knew that was only a formality.”
“Do you like it?”
“It feels like home.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Sara watched the tall guy in the fatigues. He was looking down the beach rather than out to sea as he’d been doing earlier. Did he see something? A couple making out on the beach?
Or someone coming?
Someone he was watching for?
She and Michael were closer to the beach entrance than he was. Because they’d stayed up at the cliff rather than congregating down by the water. By the fire. The heat.
And she thought about Michael’s question.
“I’d like more color,” she said. “A bold splash of orange, and red and yellow here and there.”
The night was so quiet. They could hear voices, make out an occasional word. But people were beginning to quiet down more. To lie down for the night.
“I think a maroon wall in the bedroom would be nice. With a big, thick maroon-and-gold comforter and a bunch of matching pillows on the bed.”
It was a safe thought. Innocuous. Unrelated to the lateness of the hour and the fact that they were coming up on now or never.
“So why not change it?” His fingers were completely still now. His gaze intent as he watched the beach.
“I pick my battles with my family.”
“How so?” His fingers rubbed lightly again, pushing down in between her legs. If he’d move up about four inches she could forget everything else.
“They want me to buy a mansion in Beverly Hills, preferably on the block they’d choose, have the same season tickets they do and attend all of the galas and openings and fund-raisers that they attend. I want to live in a place that I can take care of on my own in a small town, and work. That was my battle. I won. So I live in an upscale gated community. Drive a relatively nice car. And let them decorate my condo so that when they visit they feel like I’m still one of them.”
He gave her leg a squeeze.
She saw the body approaching. It was short. Slender. Stooped.
And male.
Sara let out a breath.
Michael started to rub her leg again.
And she wondered if this vigil was ever going to end.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“DO YOU THINK she’s coming?” Sara’s quiet words, the first communication they’d shared in more than an hour, were like a whisper on the wind in the stillness of the night.
She’d been asleep. Her breaths had been long and even and he’d been counting them. Counting the minutes he’d have with her.
Midnight was upon them.
“I don’t know,” he told her. Army Fatigues was still sitting there, though, down by the water. He wasn’t the only one still awake. The card players were still playing. A boozer who’d arrived recently set his bottle in the sand and went down to wash his hands in the water.
The three teenagers sat quietly by the fire, opposite the old guys playing cards.
Regretting their choice to spend the night out in the cold rather than at home in warm beds? Or thinking that a cold night on the beach was better than whatever it was they’d escaped?
His hand still rested on Sara’s thigh, his fingers soaking up the warmth between her legs. Her hand had found its way under his shirt. They fit together. For that one night.
And...every nerve in his body tightened. He gave Sara’s leg another squeeze. A strong one. A body had just ducked under the pier from the cliff above. A short, slender body. Not five feet away from them. Walking silently, staying in the brush that grew up along the cement base, it moved slowly. Head dropped low, the shawl the woman was wearing covered her neck and hair. But it didn’t cover her face.
Sara’s pinch told him what he’d already guessed.
It was showtime.
* * *
AFTER MORE THAN two days of stressing, searching and living on the run, Sara was surprised by the calm that came over her as she set eyes on Nicole Kramer.
The woman was alone. Moving with enough stealth and speed to tell her that she was okay. She was in Santa Raquel, not in LA trying to kidnap her son from her ex-husband.
Instead of signaling that Sara should approach the woman, Michael held her in place. In the vise of his arms, she had little choice but to sit and wait.
Her brain told her to go to her client. Help her.
Instinct kept her still.
Nicole stayed on the edges of the group of people. If she was looking for someone in particular, maybe a friend she’d met the night before, Sara couldn’t tell. Nicole stopped to pick up something from the ground near the fire, then smelled it. And put it in her mouth.
And that was when Sara knew for certain that Nicole was able to put herself into whatever character she needed to be in. To live any life. Lie any lie.
The woman had money for food. Abhorred filth. And was eating off the ground.
“She’s good.” Michael’s whisper filtered into her as easily as the air off the ocean. He hadn’t moved. “She’s planning to spend the n
ight.”
“How do you get that?”
“The only way she’s safe is if the crowd here accepts her as one of them. They’ll protect their own. They aren’t going to protect a stranger in their midst.”
“She was a stranger to Simon and his friends.”
“No, she was one of them. A member of the family. One they’d just met.”
Nicole wasn’t the only one who was good at the dangerous game they were playing. Michael, who she knew hadn’t been familiar with the culture of being homeless until that weekend, had already become one with them.
She understood why he was the best at what he did.
And needed him to get on with doing it.
She needed to get Nicole to safety.
* * *
SHE PICKED HER spot with care. A parcel of sand with no debris. A little farther from the fire, but as clean as it was going to get. In between two clusters of bodies. And yet alone. Beneath the pier, close to a cement base.
One she could easily climb up and over if need be. She could run in the opposite direction down the pier, past the official entrance to the end of the abutment and dive into the ocean.
She was a good swimmer. He remembered from the profile sheet. He waited for her to lie down. To put the folded cardboard box she’d been carrying under her arm over her head. Watched the rise and fall of those boxes as well as he could in the light of the moon.
He waited. And he watched. Nicole—and Army Fatigues. Had the guy paid any particular attention to the newcomer? Or too little attention? Pretended not to notice her?
The guy was exactly the same. He sat, looking around. Appeared alert to what was going on around him. Managing to be separate and apart in a world of his own at the same time.
Then he got up.
Michael reached for his gun.
“Take my knife.” He slid it from beneath his shoulder over to her.
Moving very little, Sara slid her hand from beneath his shirt to cover the handle of the six-inch blade.
Her head was turned toward Army Fatigues, as well.
Nicole hadn’t moved. Michael would wager a guess that the woman was already asleep. Exhaustion and a sense of safety did that to you when you were on the run.
“He’s heading back to the beach,” Sara whispered as the guy headed in the opposite direction from Nicole.
Going for backup?
Michael prepared for an ambush. He was going to shove Sara into the brush at the edge of the cliff so she’d be out of the fray. And then he was diving for Nicole. He had to get her away from the rest of the people there that night.
“He’s using the restroom.” Sara’s hushed words came just as his plans were changing once again.
“Hold the knife in your hand. Hide it with the blanket. Go lie down next to Nicole. Try to do your thing. If it works, if she’ll leave with you willingly, head up the cliff. I’ll be right behind you, covering your backs until I’m sure no one is going to follow you.”
He’d have his gun cocked and ready to take down anyone who thought they were going to hurt Sara. That was just the way it was.
There was no time for anything else.
“If she refuses to leave with you, just lie there until I come get you. If she pulls a gun, shove that knife as deeply into her arm as you can.”
An arm was the most he could hope for from Sara. And with him right there, backing her up, it would be enough. A stab in the arm would disarm the jumper long enough for Michael to take her down. By force or bullet.
Chances were, Army Fatigues was going to be returning soon. He didn’t want Sara up and walking when that happened.
“Okay. Go.”
Sara didn’t speak again. She positioned the knife in her hand, as though ready to stab someone with it, draped the blanket over her arm and stood.
Michael lunged for her as she moved away. Needing to drag her back, to think of another way. But he knew that their best shot of getting Nicole off that beach without anyone being hurt rested with the woman he’d just spent several hours holding in his arms.
“Be safe.” He whispered the words, shaking the circulation back into his arms as he watched Sara approach the woman he was there to capture, keeping a peripheral glance on the public bathroom up the beach at the same time.
His gun was cocked. Aimed at Nicole’s chest. His finger was on the trigger.
And Sara lay down in the sand.
* * *
“NICOLE.” SHE WHISPERED her client’s name. And when she could tell by the subtle change in the movement of the cardboard covering the other woman that Nicole was awake, she said, “It’s Sara. I’m here to get you to safety.”
The cardboard didn’t move.
“We need to go now.” This had to work. She didn’t kid herself about what was going to happen if it didn’t. Michael was going to capture Nicole. One way or another.
It had to be Sara’s way.
“Toby’s in safe custody,” she said. As far as she knew, it wasn’t true. Yet. But it could be. She hadn’t checked her text messages since nightfall.
There was movement in the sand beneath the cardboard. Sara’s heart started to thud so hard she struggled to breathe normally. Was Nicole reaching for a weapon?
“The man that’s with me, the guy I told you was Trevor’s friend—he’s not. He’s been helping me. We can get you to safety but we have to go now. Around the cement embankment and up the cliff.” Sara’s hand was steady as she made to get up. Her knife was poised and ready to lunge.
Nicole rose slowly, grabbed Sara’s unclothed hand and pulled her through the darkness.
* * *
MICHAEL SAW THE instant the women started to move. Army Fatigues hadn’t yet come out of the bathroom. He hoped to God that the length of the time the guy was in there signified a digestive issue.
Sara’s knife hand was poised. And so was Michael. His quick burst of relief as the women joined hands and headed toward the cliff turned instantly to cold, hard intent as Nicole took the lead and they veered in another direction, toward the far side of the pier. There was no beach there. Just a small patch of brush and trees and then a sheer cliff face. That eventually led to the road where he and Sara had spent the night before.
Only a fool would exit that way.
Up on his feet and taking off after them without making a sound, Michael let his gun lead, knowing that as soon as he had a clear shot, he’d have to take it.
His fugitive had taken a hostage.
And one thing was certain.
No matter what happened to him, he was not going to let Sara die.
* * *
“WHERE IS HE?” They were the first words Nicole said after pulling Sara down into the brush just beyond the far side of the pier.
“He’s safe. After verifying the photos you turned over to the police, CPS was able to get the paperwork pushed through without delay.”
Nicole hadn’t turned up at the Lemonade Stand empty-handed. She’d brought with her a flash drive of photos that she’d said would implicate her husband in at least two of the crimes on her rap sheet—including the most recent charge of attempted kidnapping with a deadly weapon.
Trevor had been the one holding the gun. To her head. While she’d held her six-month-old son in her arms.
Sara hadn’t seen the photos. And wasn’t yet sure that they’d even been verified. She just prayed that Nicole hadn’t lied about them.
And would know within the next few seconds if she had.
Either way, the lies, the running, it was all going to end. Before that little boy’s life was put in the wrong hands.
“He’s safe.” As her voice broke, the younger woman dropped to her butt, putting her head down to her knees. Sara sat beside her, almost weepy with relief.
The photos must have been real. Which meant that Trevor was the current member of the Ivory Nation.
“How are you? I found your shirt with the blood...”
“Trevor’s work. He cut me as a warning. I couldn’t risk going to the hospital for stitches, so I’ve just kept it bandaged. I must have torn it open again the night I ran from the Stand because it bled through the bandage. I used toilet paper and my bra strap to make a new one.”
The woman was impervious to pain? Another result of being raised in a supremacist culture?
“Michael’s going to be here any second. He’ll get us to the SUV and...”
“Don’t move.” The words were Michael’s. Said in a voice she’d never heard before. His gun, not two feet away, was trained on Nicole’s head.
“She’s unarmed, Michael,” Sara said.
“No, I’m not.” Nicole raised her head, meeting Michael’s gaze in the moonlight. She reached under the shawl around her neck, pulled a gun from a shoulder holster and tossed it out of easy reach. The knife strapped to her ribs followed. Then she held up her hands. “We good?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. Merely kneeled down close to Sara, putting himself in between her and her client, and picked up the weapons. His gun was still aimed.
And that was when Sara noticed the tattoo on Nicole’s collarbone. An exact replica of the one on her father’s neck.
Sitting there, looking from Michael to Nicole, she started to sweat.
* * *
“PUT THESE ON.” With his gun still pointing at Nicole’s head, Michael reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.
Nicole did as directed.
And Michael lowered his gun.
* * *
“YOU TWO NEED to go. Now.” Nicole’s whisper was harsh. Sara didn’t recognize the woman. The stiff set of her shoulders, the commanding tone. Or the stone-cold look on her face. “You can’t be here.”
“Exactly. Let’s go.” Michael didn’t sound like a friend.
“No.” The woman didn’t budge. “It’s me they want. Toby’s safe now. I’m not going to put Sara in any further jeopardy. As long as we were apart, she was safe, but...”
“What are you talking about?” Sara asked, on her knees as she prepared to stand to follow Michael. They were all talking in whispers, following Nicole’s lead, but there was no one around.
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