Survival Instinct

by Doranna Durgin

  He wasn’t likely to hide how he felt about her words, either.

  He didn’t help, not when he reached out to tuck her cast-covering sock back into place where it had slipped toward her thumb. She’d miss that thoughtfulness. She’d only had it a short while, but she’d drunk it up and found herself thirstier than expected. Still thirsty. Always thirsty, at this rate.

  Didn’t matter; it was what she was used to. She knew how to live that way, and this was something she had to do. No longer even a choice, somehow. She’d help this boy as best she could. She had her own demons to drive her.

  She lifted her head to look him in the eye as she spoke. She’d see it that way, the exact moment he realized the import of what she said. “A year ago my sister and I were in a car accident. No—” She shook her head sharply as his mouth opened, and made no attempt to retain any of Ellen’s mannerisms. “No, you think you know this, but you don’t. We were in that car accident, and my sister died.”

  “I do know—”

  “My sister Ellen.”

  Dave didn’t hear her. Not really. He only stared, frowning. And she stared back, waiting. Impatient. Blue-gray eyes watching him from beneath her eyebrows.

  And that was when it fell into place. So preposterous it had never even occurred to him, and yet it explained every lingering question he’d had since his arrival here. It explained how quiet Ellen had slammed a man with a hand cultivator; it explained how she’d had the grit to get through the night on the mountainside.

  It explained why he’d reacted to her when Ellen had never inspired more than a professional glance.

  “Karin,” he said. It sounded like a question so he said it again, making it into a statement. “You’re Karin.”

  She nodded, relieved and wary at the same time.

  He managed another silent moment, before the questions and anger coalesced into the realization that this woman couldn’t help him at all. Not only couldn’t help him, had wasted precious days in which he might have been hunting Rashawn in other ways. Realization burst out, and it was loud. “Why?”

  “Here’s the way this goes,” she said. “I’ll explain, and then I’ll help you. Or you can shout at me again and you can leave right now without me. Me, I’m leaving tonight regardless. The hounds you put on my heels are real enough.”

  “Just tell me why the hell you let me think—” He couldn’t help it, couldn’t keep the anger inside. Everything they’d been through…for nothing. Everything they’d done together…meaningless. And he was no closer to saving Rashawn than he’d ever been. Even the photo just told him what he’d already known.

  Dark honey-brown hair spilled over her shoulder, trapped in the ponytail he’d helped her secure. He’d run his fingers through that hair…he’d loved it. But this new expression wasn’t one he’d seen before. Harder. Perfectly resolute. “That’s two,” she said. “You ready to listen yet, or should I go make my alternate arrangements?”

  Dave put both hands over his face, ignoring the dirt from his recent farm chores. “I’m listening.”

  “Ellen is—was—my older sister. She moved away years ago, because she couldn’t deal with the family business.” Her voice was resolute. Implacable. And for all the emotion she kept out of it, the deeper husky notes of that voice throbbed with the price of this conversation. “Rumsey raised us to follow in his footsteps. I was eight when I took my first real part in a con game.” She paused so he could take that in.

  Took her part in a con game. Raised to be a scam artist. A thief. A player.

  Thank God he had his hands over his face. No doubt she could still see his jaw clench.

  “Ellen left as soon as she could. But by the time I was ready to go, I was in too deep. I had to run for it. Ellen intended to bring me back here so I could lay low and figure out how to move on. But when…” She faltered for the first time.

  He dropped his hands, found her wiping some imaginary scuff off her jeans. She swallowed visibly, but then she was back. “After the crash, as she lay there dying, Ellen made me promise to take her name. I needed the time to sort my life out…it seemed like a good idea.” She snorted, but the tears in her voice never made it anywhere near her face. Tough woman. “Hell, it was a good idea. It worked perfectly until you came along.”

  He shook his head and didn’t even realize he was doing it until she gave him a sharp look. He said, “Why the hell didn’t you just tell me I had the wrong woman?”

  Her expression turned skeptical. “Did you listen to what I just said? I’m hiding, that’s why. And I dare you to count how many times I said I couldn’t help you. I’d have booted you right off the place if Longsford’s errand boys hadn’t come in and complicated the hell out of things.”

  She brushed her knees off and stood. “As I recall, I even drugged you and ran off to keep myself safe, which is where I’d be right now if your sneaky bug hadn’t been attached to my back. Safe. Keeping my little world together.” She crossed her arms, awkward with the cast, and glared down at him. “Now my cover’s heading for blown, Longsford is still after me and you’re no better off than if you’d only believed me. Not to mention the whole thrown-over-the-cliff thing. That really sucked.”

  Dave rested his forehead on the heels of both hands. The sense of betrayal went beyond reason, even when fair play reared its intrusive little head and reminded him that she was right. That everything she’d said was true. He’d intruded here; she’d told him she couldn’t help. Repeatedly. With emphasis and conviction.

  If only you’d told me the truth…

  Then what? He’d already put her up against a wall. He’d already drawn Longsford’s men her way, trapping her between running as Ellen or running as Karin.

  And still…the lie twisted in his stomach. And there’s your conflict of interest. Stupid, to end up in bed—or on the floor—with a woman connected to one of his investigations.

  Yet in spite of the bitter twist, he couldn’t quite regret it. He’d wanted her with a poignant strength that surprised him. Right from the moment he’d followed her inside the house, trapping her up against that washing machine so he could make his point. He should have known they weren’t the same person, should have listened to himself, for the real Ellen Sommers had never interested him in the least. This woman, her sister…

  She’d been more to him, more alive to him, from the moment he saw her. He lifted his head to see her standing there on the crest of the ridge. Unyieldingly straight back, chin raised as she looked out over the land, thick, straight hair escaping from the ponytail, long waist down to tight hips that held low-rise jeans, leaving a taut athletic curve of skin.

  Yeah, he still wanted to pull her in close and kiss that belly, unsnap those jeans and tug away the practical underwear beneath. Some part of him definitely still wanted it, and wanted it now.

  But those moments were past. Now he had to deal with where the situation had brought them. One man who was all about doing right by people, all about rescuing them…and one woman whose skill at deception still hadn’t quite sunk in.

  He should start with an apology. Whatever his intentions, he’d walked into the middle of a fugitive’s cover situation and stomped it all to hell. But they already somehow seemed past that.

  Or maybe just not ready to talk about it.

  So when he finally cleared his throat and spoke, his rough-edged voice came out with, “How?”

  She didn’t turn around. “How, what?”

  “You said you could help.”

  “That depends, really.” Her voice might have been a little huskier than normal; hard to tell. She was no longer offering him any of those glimpses of the Ellen Sommers he’d known.

  Dave pushed off to his feet, uncrossing his legs along the way. “Depends on…what? You have conditions?”

  She glanced back at him. “No. This is something I want to do, for my own reasons.”

  “What, then?” An anxious twinge surprised him. Three days gone, and no closer to finding the
boy he sought. Not even a clue. Being convinced Longsford was behind the kidnapping was one thing, and finding the boy was another.

  She turned to face him then. “Whether I help depends on you. On if you can bring yourself to do things my way.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Look, the law’s not getting anywhere. Your feebies aren’t getting anywhere. You’re all constrained by legal niceties. What you need is a way to slip up on Longsford from the other side.”

  “You?” His voice may have been skeptical, but something in him already believed.

  She dropped her head ever so slightly. It emphasized the size of her eyes, the way she could use them to say whatever she wanted to say, entirely without words. Yes. Of course me. Out loud, she finally said, “If Longsford’s as greedy as you painted him, I can rope him in with a layered long con. It’ll get me close. Once I’m in…” She shrugged. “I know what to look for. I’ll find Longsford’s little hidey-hole.”

  “It takes a thief,” Dave said flatly, unable to lighten his tone.

  “No. It takes Longsford’s greed and power thirst. Without that, I’d have nothing to exploit.”

  “You want to what—make him an offer an e-mail scammer couldn’t refuse?” That was insulting, and he knew it.

  She didn’t pretend it wasn’t. Her expression turned derisive—and then hard. “Whatever it takes,” she said, and looked away, back out over the farm. “It seems Rumsey taught me well after all.”

  Chapter 12

  Dave thought to say no, that much was obvious to Karin. He didn’t want any part of her scheming.

  She reminded him that he’d offered her the safe house. That she had to leave this little farm in any event. That he had time to think about it. If it occurred to him that he’d be making this decision while in the company of a woman who knew exactly how to get what she wanted, it didn’t show.

  And so they left the farm to Amy Lynn and Karin kissed Dewey goodbye and told him to watch the property, and they drove off toward Alexandria.

  Karin Sommers’s Journal on the Road, March 16

  I’m getting used to the car. From the farm to the big city…lotta hours. And then there’s Perfectly Gloomy Gus, my travel companion. He thinks he’s gonna dump me in his brother’s safe house and rush on with his investigation. He thinks he’s going to sift through the same old information and find a new trail somehow. Yeah, right.

  He needs the angles I can work. And dammit, doesn’t it seem only fair that Rumsey’s teachings might actually do someone some good? Wouldn’t he just be disgusted?

  Perfectly Gloomy Gus has his knickers tied in a knot because of what happened between us. He forgets himself, responds to our us-ness, and then clams up tighter than a righteous virgin.

  Poor guy. Mr. Straight-and-Narrow, stuck with Ms. Take-What-You-Can-Get, However-You-Can-Get-It.

  It’s not like I was born that way.

  And it’s not like I had any trouble leaving it behind. Some habits die hard, but jeez, Ellen, the most I’ve done since the accident is a little finders-keepers. And no, I’m not racked with guilt over what came before. We both took early beatings for ratting him out—such great imaginations we had, weren’t we precious!—and I still have that scar on the back of my leg. So I didn’t have a lot of choice. Not—and don’t get all guilt-racked over this, but we both know it’s the truth—not once you so dramatically opted out of the life. Me…I just opted out of high school early. Out of proms and slumber parties and sweet first dates…and a future.

  Nothing comes sweet in Rumsey’s world, not unless it’s for Rumsey himself.

  Dave doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get that I left that world behind. You know, I was thinking of getting my GED. Of working in criminology, even. But things don’t exactly bode well for that particular option anymore. Especially now that Mr. Straight-and-Narrow knows who

  I really am. He knows I want to keep your identity; he knows it’s because of Rumsey. But the warrant—the one in my name, for who knows what except I damn well didn’t do it—is the real problem.

  Gotta wonder how long it’ll take before Dave figures it out.

  Karin fiddled with the radio stations, hunting for something between outright country and hard rock. Surely there’d be one little station with an independent bent, one that played music that crossed the lines…just like her.

  Bored, bored, bored. She gave up and sat back in the car seat as Dave linked his laptop to his cell phone and checked out the Front Royal Yellow Pages. “There’s a bed-and-break-fast that looks good,” he said. He disconnected the laptop and dialed the cell phone as Karin contemplated the brick restroom building not far from them. “Going for a walk.”

  He hesitated, as though he might put the call through later and walk with her now. He might not like her scheming, but he fully intended to deliver her to that safe house.

  What he didn’t realize was that she no longer had a reason to run. She’d already lost what she’d been trying to protect. “Dude,” she told him, “if I wanted to ditch you, I’d ditch you. And the whole escape at the bathroom thing has been done to death.”

  “Dude,” he mused, one of those rare moments in this day when a genuine smile teased along his mouth. “Go, then. I’ll see if we can get a suite at this place.”

  So she went, wrapped in her old army jacket and pretending she didn’t know about the tears and scuffs the cliff had wrought. Her poor stiff body sure knew about it. Her wrist ached inside the cast, and every bruise and cramp protested her movement. She walked the perimeter of the area, stopping to watch as a boy played with the family dog. She realized, to her astonishment, that she missed Dewey. Ellen’s dog had come into her life with no choice in the matter. Yeah, she missed him.

  And the sheep. And even the demanding goats.

  Great. She was homesick. Farmsick. And it wasn’t even her farm to begin with. Then again, it wasn’t even her life.

  To shake herself free of the mood, she took another brisk tour around the perimeter. Hey, maybe her butt wouldn’t be asleep forever at that. She put her mind to work on the scam she’d run if she had endless resources. All the extras she needed, all the finances, the best manager…she’d be the roper. She was always the roper. She’d weave her way into Longsford’s trust, pulling him along by his greed.

  Except in this case, the end goal wouldn’t be the sting itself. It would be what she could learn along the way. It would be about saving one little boy.

  Dave had parked at the end of the lot, and Karin broke into a jog, stretching her legs a little as she went back to join him. First things first…clothes. Surely Front Royal would have a store or two. Would there be anyone she could trust with her hair? With her eyes?

  She arrived back at the car flushed with both the minor exertion and the major buzz of the con planning. She had to admit there was a real jazz to planning a long con, a pleasure in thinking through the details and putting the pieces in place. A satisfaction when those pieces came together, especially if the grift was so seamless that the mark never truly realized he or she had been scammed.

  There was, however, no sign of Dave at the Maxima. Not in it, not next to it…. Okay, so…sometimes a guy’s gotta go, too. She waited, stretching with mini-calisthenics so as not to stiffen right up again.

  No sign of him.

  Huh.

  She circled the car, looking for him behind the trucks, behind the buildings, along the tree line of the thick, early-spring woods.

  Ah.

  There he was, just inside the tree line, staring at the phone in his hand as if it could offer him much-needed wisdom. He rubbed the heel of one hand across his brow, never quite completing the gesture…just standing that way.

  Huh. Again.

  She walked across the spongy spring grass. He saw her and came to meet her, but there was no authority in his stride, no confidence. Karin slowed, wary even before they’d closed the distance between them, and then she got close enough to see that his troubled eyes were re
d rimmed, their expression…

  Haunted.

  By the time they stood face-to-face, he’d shuttered the depth of the emotion, but it was too late.

  “Who was that?” she asked. “The FBI? You just got your walking papers?” But that didn’t seem quite right, not quite in sync with the emotion he’d shown.

  “Yeah,” he said, and cleared his throat. “I did.” He didn’t meet her gaze, so unlike him.

  Karin found she missed that blunt, quiet connection. “Doesn’t mean anything. You can still—”

  His look was sharp enough to cut her off. With rough, short movements, Dave stabbed his cell phone at an inside jacket pocket until he found the right opening, looking at her all the while. And although he hadn’t moved back, he’d somehow put distance between them nonetheless.

  It’s me, she realized quite suddenly. He’d gotten news of her warrant, and there was no way he wouldn’t take her in—

  But he cut those thoughts off as easily as he’d cut off her words. “The search is over. They found him.”

  By then her thoughts were so tangled up that she could only stare at him, unable to take in the significance of his words. Her expression got stuck on full duh.

  “Rashawn,” Dave said bitterly. “Dumped.”

  From duh to disbelief. “But—you said you had time!”

  He laughed, a harsh, short sound. “So I thought. Turns out my persistence got some attention…the Feds poked around in Longsford’s life. That’s what brought Longsford’s men to your place.” He shook his head, his eyes gone unfocused.

  She had no trouble following his thoughts this time. She walked right through the barrier he’d erected since he’d learned her true identity, her hand landing on his elbow. “Hey,” she said. “Not your fault. None of it.”