by Koontz, Rena
“Really, I … ” The glare he leveled at her halted her objection. “I’d like a cheeseburger, small fries, and a diet pop. Thank you.”
He stretched his right leg while keeping his foot on the brake and slid his hand inside his front pants pocket. Bulging thigh muscles pulled the denim material taut around his leg and held her gaze like magnets to steel. Reluctantly redirecting her eyes, she leaned forward toward her purse.
“Don’t worry. I got it. I’ll put it on your tab.”
“When are you going to present me with this phantom tab?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
He ordered food for both of them, then maneuvered to a vacant parking spot in proximity of several picnic tables. He keyed off the ignition and climbed out of the driver’s seat, balancing their take-out order and moving toward the nearest empty table.
Clay turned when Cassidy remained inside the truck and stared at her, finally forcing her to join him. Silently, he pushed her food order to her side of the table and took a bite from his burger.
The aroma from the fries fueled her hunger pangs. She surveyed her surroundings, scrutinizing the cars going through the takeout window, stared across the street at the car dealer’s lot, and studied the passing traffic. Throwing one leg over the bench, she sat and unwrapped her meal. She took the first glorious bite and shoved three fries into her mouth. She didn’t regularly eat fast food, but this was heaven.
Glancing around a second time, she squared her shoulders and enjoyed a second delicious bite, mindful of Clay’s eyes on her.
“Are you married?”
The question surprised her. “No.”
Thankfully, he didn’t pursue the subject. They finished their lunch in silence, tossed their trash, and walked back to the truck. The food calmed her nervous stomach, but she took one last look at the cars coming and going. Clay started the engine and shifted into reverse, locking the doors.
“Who were you watching for?”
Her head jerked around. “What?”
He smiled, creating laugh lines around his eyes. “You were all over that parking lot, checking out the cars, looking at the traffic, watching the sidewalks. Watching. Waiting. For who?”
“No one.”
He shook his head slowly, eased his foot off the brake, and the truck edged backward. Without another question asked, they drove onto the highway and toward the Cestra Chalets. He parked in front of the first building but didn’t shut off the engine, keeping the doors locked.
He twisted his hands and clasped them palm to palm, locking his fingers, and stretched his arms leisurely across the steering wheel toward the windshield.
“Cassidy Hoake. I ran your name in the police database, but I didn’t find anything.” She stopped breathing, tasting terror on her tongue, her heart beating a tune of panic in her ears.
Returning both hands to the wheel, he riveted his eyes on her. “You’re not in trouble in Ohio as near as I can tell. But I think you are in some kind of trouble. I will ask you one question and I want an honest yes or no answer because if I find out you lied to me, you’ll quickly learn what hell is.”
She gulped. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his.
“Did you commit a crime?”
Tears rimmed her eyes.
“Tell me the truth, Cassidy.” His words boomed.
She swallowed. “No sir. I did not.”
“But you are in trouble?”
She couldn’t find her stronger voice, so she whispered, “You said one question.”
He smiled again and exhaled. “You’re right. I did.” He turned the key and the truck stopped running. The automatic locks shot up.
“Okay, I guess the answer to that one will have to wait. Let’s go talk to my sister. We have a job offer for you.”
Her jaw dropped.
“Don’t get too excited. You can’t quit The Packing Place. It’s grunt work mostly. But the pay is a place to stay. C’mon.”
Once again he waited for her at the front of the truck and placed his hand on the small of her back as they walked. Compared to her five-foot frame he was at least six foot two, she guessed. Well built, like most cops.
Clay knocked and the door swung open. A tall, slender woman with long, dark hair and gray eyes that matched Clay’s stood in the doorway with a baby wearing a miniature red and gray football uniform perched on her hip. The baby squealed at the sight of Clay and extended small arms with dimpled elbows. Cassidy couldn’t help but smile when Clay reached for the baby, swung him to the ceiling then cradled him in his arms.
“Mags, this is Cassidy Hoake. This is my sister, Maggie Armstrong.” Maggie extended her hand and offered a warm smile.
“Come in, please. Excuse the mess.”
They stepped into a two-foot entry that opened into a sprawling living area peppered with baby toys and a bright, multi-colored Pack ‘n Play Playard in the center of the room.
“Come sit at the table. It’s a clean spot,” Maggie said, smiling. Despite the clutter, Cassidy noticed the home was spotless.
“May I offer you some iced tea?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“Yeah, Mags. We’ll both have some tea.” Clay pulled a chair out and motioned for Cassidy to sit. “Jesus, Cassidy, it’s not going to kill you to take a free glass of freakin’ tea.”
Stunned, Cassidy sat in the designated chair and picked at an imaginary spot on her thigh. Clay sat to her right and plopped the baby on the table, facing him. He seemed so at ease with an infant. Maggie returned with two tall, ice-filled tea glasses, walked back into the kitchen then joined them with her own glass. She slid a spill-proof cup toward Clay, but he was keeping the baby entertained with belly smooches. The women smiled at the scene.
“How long have you been in town, Cassidy?” Maggie asked, smiling. Hers was a wide, friendly smile that lit up her entire face. Cassidy had only seen Clay smile a handful of times.
“Um, I’ve worked at The Packing Place for almost a month now.”
“Oh. Do you like it?”
How many times did she nestle someone’s valuables safely between bubble wrap and packing peanuts and ship them away to a happier place wishing as she did that she could wrap herself in a protective cocoon and ship Cassidy Hoake to a safe, happy place? The thought occurred to her every day.
“I’m getting better at it.”
“Oh.” Maggie looked at Clay, who arched his eyebrows, then returned her gaze to Cassidy. “Has Clay told you what we’d like you to do?”
“Um, no, not really.”
Maggie lifted her glass, eyed Cassidy, and sipped her tea. “Clay, why don’t you take Jack for a walk? Leave us girls to talk.”
Clay looked surprised, but Maggie insisted. “Go. You make Cassidy nervous and you’re making me nervous. Take my son and go do guy things.”
She waved her hand toward the door. Unceremoniously dismissed, Clay hoisted the baby in his arms, snatched the sipping cup, and Cassidy watched them walk away. Rosie’s words echoed in her ears: You don’t know what kind of man he is.
What kind of man exuded that much love for a baby not even his own? The best kind. That much she knew.
Maggie folded her hands and leveled a steady gaze on Cassidy. She smiled that wonderful smile again.
“My brother likes you.”
Cassidy jerked her head around.
“It’s been some time since he’s shown an interest in a woman. I’m glad to see it. But let’s talk about you for now. Clay tells me you live on Fortieth Street.”
Maggie’s words continued to roll around in her brain. My brother likes you. She nodded.
“That’s a terrible place. I can’t imagine what led you to end up there. It must be something horrible.”
Cassidy’s bre
ath stalled. Was this woman psychic?
Maggie continued. “I’m not going to pry.” She winked “Well, I probably will eventually. But for now, here’s the proposition, I — rather we — have for you. Clay tells me you work every day, but it’s essentially a part-time job and that your schedule changes. That will be easy to work around.”
Maggie laid out everything Cassidy would be expected to do — painting, cleaning, gardening, office duties, grocery shopping, errand running, “and, if I really learn to trust you, babysitting. Dan and I could use a night together once in a while without our son. Clay takes the baby sometimes, but I never totally relax when he has him. Women are instinctively better with babies, I think. But that won’t be for a while. You have to prove yourself before I trust you with Jack. In return, you stay here rent free in a two-bedroom furnished apartment. The only things you will have to buy are your groceries, although once I get to know you, you will certainly be welcome to eat with us occasionally. Dan is a sergeant at the same police department where Clay works, did you know that? They were partners until I came into the picture.” She held up her left hand and wiggled her ring finger, grinning. “Now, they are brothers-in-law.
“There are a lot of times when it’s simply Jack and I at home. It would be nice having another woman around.”
Cassidy stared at her, dumbfounded.
“You should know that I would kill for my son, my husband, or my brother. Without a moment’s hesitation. I know how to shoot and I know how to defend myself. That is the sole warning I will give you.
“Here’s what I know about you. My brother likes you. That, to me, speaks volumes. You are in some kind of trouble. Dan and Clay haven’t figured out what kind yet. Oh, don’t look so startled. They are damn good cops.
“You need a friend, I think, or in our case, friends. And Clay wants you out of that dump you’re in. So, it’s time for you to make a choice. Come work for me as my lackey, pretty much, and stay here. The rest will work itself out if you let us help.”
Cassidy’s eyes brimmed. “You are so kind. But you don’t know what you are asking. You don’t know what you are getting yourself into.” Without warning, tears began to stream down her face. She removed her glasses and placed them on the placemat in front of her.
Maggie reached across the table and clutched her hands. “Can you talk about it?”
“I, I can’t.”
“Will you keep danger from my door?”
“If I stay here, I don’t think I can promise that. It’s best I leave.” The tears wouldn’t stop.
Maggie studied her, clinging to her hands. She released an audible breath. “Is it your plan to hide forever?”
Cassidy pulled her hands from Maggie’s grasp and dropped her head into them. She began to sob. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”
Maggie waited for the flood of emotion to subside. She produced a box of tissues and Cassidy blew her nose. A few more gut-wrenching sobs and she had regained control. But the weight of her burden aged her, if not visibly on the outside, inside, deep within her bones, weighing her down like a one-hundred-year-old woman too weak to make another move. She raised her head and regarded Maggie through eyes wearied by all that she had seen.
“You probably needed that. Feel better?”
Cassidy nodded.
“Can you tell me, in the most generic terms, what the problem is?”
Cassidy remained silent.
“I think Dan and Clay will help, whatever it is.” She grinned, trying to keep the moment casual. “But, if it’s really bad, I’m rescinding my job offer.”
Cassidy sniffled. “It’s really bad.”
“Tell me.”
She hadn’t talked about it. Not since that woman’s body had collapsed beside fuel pump number four. Not since she’d seen him, recognized him, knew that he knew, and watched, as if in slow motion, his left arm rise to shoulder level. She’d looked down the barrel of a gun, albeit long distance. But it was still frightening as hell.
She’d ducked just as the service station window shattered and the earsplitting sound of a gunshot deafened her. She’d scrambled on her hands and knees, her nose running, her pulse racing, out the back door. Another shot, breaking the sound barrier in her ears.
Stumbling on all fours, crawling toward a garbage dumpster, her purse dragging along on her arm, she’d prayed, “Dear God. Dear God.” She hadn’t talked about it since that phone call from the detective informing her that her life was in danger, as calm as if he were giving her the weather prediction for the next day.
“He made bail, ma’am. We’ve lost track of him.”
It hadn’t occurred to her at first that she would be his target. She sensed it after that first hang up call. She acknowledged it as a fact hours later when her car exploded in the driveway of her townhouse. And she took off, abandoning her job, her home, and her life. She’d been a certified public accountant in a prominent firm, with eyes on a partnership someday. Maybe that was why she now gravitated toward positions behind a cash register.
She’d had two jobs since she fled the gas station, worn two different disguises, always ready to run, always looking over her shoulder. She was exhausted. Bone tired. Nevertheless, she couldn’t stop. She took a ragged breath.
“Thank you, Maggie, but I can’t stay here. I thought I could, thought maybe I could take a break from running. But anyone I get close to will be in jeopardy. I won’t do that to you, your son, or Amber.” Her heartbeat quickened. “Or your brother. I’m sorry.”
Maggie rose. “Please don’t make that decision tonight, Cassidy. Consider staying. You’ll be safe here. And when you’re ready, Dan and Clay can help you do what you need to do. If you let them, they can give you your life back.”
Her stomach jumped at the suggestion. Would she ever have her life back? “Thanks Maggie, but I can’t.”
Maggie stiffened and her expression turned stern, like a school principal’s. “I see. All right. Do you know where you will go?”
Her heart sank. “No.” She hung her head.
“Do you have any money?”
One paycheck cashed for her first two weeks on the job, totaling sixty-three hours at minimum wage. And she still owed Clay fifty dollars out of tomorrow’s check. “A little.”
“Do you have a plan beyond leaving here and running?”
She lacked the courage to answer.
“So what good is it going to do to take off, Cassidy? At least here you’re safe for the time being. If nothing else, you can tuck away a little money. And maybe realize you have some friends.”
“You don’t even know me. How can you offer that?”
Maggie revealed a slow, deliberate smile. “Didn’t you ever meet someone and know immediately you liked them? I have. More importantly, I think Clay has.”
Maybe in another lifetime he’d be the prince of her dreams. She shook her head, denying it. “I can only bring trouble to your doorstep.”
“Or, we can bring help to yours. Depends on how you look at things. Consider this, Cassidy. Right now, police could be waiting for you outside. My telling Clay to leave could have been a ploy for him to call them.”
Cassidy rushed to the sliding glass door. Clay stood on the sidewalk speaking with two elderly women, the baby obviously the center of attention. She turned when she heard Maggie open the apartment door.
“Make your choice. Trust us or take off. I don’t know what mistakes you made before you arrived here. But if you run, you’ve got to blow past that man out there. And I do know that would be a big mistake.”
Chapter Eight
She stayed. Only temporarily. Only until she could build a nest egg and figure out where to go next. That was the deal she made with Maggie and herself. She neglected to include the caveat that Tony DelMorrie could disrupt her plans and send her das
hing into the middle of the night to who knows where. Maggie didn’t need to know that part.
Clay returned to the apartment, smiled briefly when Maggie informed him that Cassidy had agreed to the arrangement, and then took control.
He suggested a small, two-bedroom unit, but when she objected, saying two-bedrooms was excessive, he opted for the Thompsons’ former apartment, one floor above his living quarters.
“We can’t get into your old place, yet. Maybe tomorrow. But I can show you where you’ll be and you can make a grocery list for whatever you’ll need. You might as well start today. Maggie, if you have a shopping list Cassidy can handle it.”
“I, um, I don’t have a car,” Cassidy said.
“Oh yeah, I forgot. No license either. Well, I’ll run you to the store, show you where it is, point out the hardware store where we have an account for our supplies, things like that.” He turned to his sister. “What’s on my list for today, anything Cassidy can help me with?”
Her stomach executed a perfect one-and-a-half gainer. Was she supposed to be Maggie’s personal assistant or his? It sounded like she would be both. It wasn’t the labor she minded. It was the man. Already she grew giddy when she saw him, when he smiled at her, when his hand lay so naturally on her back. His touch was like a hot lava rock. She had to keep reminding herself he was a cop and quite possibly Amber’s boyfriend, although Maggie made it sound as if he didn’t have a girlfriend. Perhaps she was unaware of Clay’s private life.
She gasped when he opened the door to her new home. Gorgeous cherry-stained hardwood floors spilled from a full kitchen into a small dining area, where a round oak table and four oak chairs were stationed beneath a chandelier that twinkled in the afternoon sunlight streaming in from the balcony doors. Where the hardwood halted, plush chocolate carpet spread throughout the room, marked with vacuum tracks in the pile. The carpet stretched from the sand-colored walls of the furnished living room into a bedroom where a double bed with headboard, matching bureau, and chest shined from furniture polish.