“I mean, it’s real dark back there and the guy’s clothes were black and he wore a billed cap pulled low,” Todd said. “I barely saw him for a second.”
“Did you hear anything he said?” Nick asked.
“Kind of a jumble—it was noisy like always. Something about a threat and taking care of two as easily as one…and then I heard the girl tell him to let go. He was holding on to her until I asked if there was a problem. He said no and when he let her arm go, she took off fast.”
Gideon asked, “Didn’t you realize this was the girl you were supposed to be watching for?”
An uncomfortable Todd glanced at his boss. “Sorry. I was late tonight. No one brought me up to speed.”
The club owner turned to Isabel. “Whatever happened, it doesn’t sound like your sister will be back, not tonight.”
She sighed. There was the shed, if it still existed. That was worth a try.
“But you have tomorrow night, too,” Gideon said. “Louise obviously likes places like this—with entertainment and lots of her contemporaries hanging out.”
“That would only make sense, her gravitating to places that would make her comfortable. Louise was always a social girl,” Isabel admitted. “And she’s into music.”
“There’s going to be a rave a few miles from here,” Gideon said, “just west of the Loop.”
“Rave?” Isabel echoed. “An illegal party?” Illegal because unlicensed “businesses” moved from place to place operating these raves, and the parties were known to be hotbeds for drug activity. “I don’t think Louise would go for that.”
“Just in case…” Gideon scribbled something on a pad and ripped off the top sheet of paper “…here’s the address.”
They thanked him and left, and Isabel retrieved her backpack from Mags.
All the while her worry over Louise deepened. A rave. While she hoped not, she just wasn’t certain anymore what her sister would or would not do.
When they got back outside, the walkway in front of the club was packed with more than a dozen raucous teens. Nick led them along the curb around a flirting couple and guys who were goofing around, jostling each other in a mock fight.
Beyond the parked cars, vehicles whizzed along Milwaukee. Isabel slowed down, suddenly feeling spooked.
“A cold front is coming in,” Nick was saying as the distance between them grew.
But Isabel was only half listening. She shivered, but whether from a change in temperature or her prickling instincts, she wasn’t certain.
Something was off.
Stopping at the curb, she felt as if she was being watched. Louise? Was her sister somewhere nearby? Isabel wondered hopefully. She concentrated…scanned the area on the other side of Milwaukee…thought maybe she saw a girl with long blond hair duck into an entryway.
Balanced on the curb, she looked for Nick to tell him she was going to cross and check it out. A sharp shove from behind knocked the backpack from her grip and sent her flying out past the parked cars. She pitched forward, off balance, and landed in the street on both hands and knees.
Shaken, she looked up as the headlights of a fast-moving vehicle headed straight at her.
9
AN EAR-PIERCING SHRIEK made Nick look back in time to see Isabel fly into the street. Its headlights holding her in shock, an SUV ate pavement fast. Nick’s heart froze in his chest as he fought the crowd to get to her.
With a screech of brakes, the SUV jerked to a stop mere inches from running her over, and Nick felt the relief like a physical blow.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, bitch?” the driver yelled from his open window.
Nick cut through milling bodies and got to Isabel’s side. He helped her to her feet and concentrated on her welfare rather than dragging the jerk out of his yuppie wagon and shoving those words back down his throat like he wanted to do.
Taking her in his arms, he held her close. For a moment, at least, she clung to him like a lifeline. And Nick realized he wanted her to do that. No matter how she’d treated him in the past, he still had feelings for her. Maybe he was crazy, but he wanted to be there for her in every sense of the word.
If she had been hurt…
A couple of curious kids drew closer, whether to see that she was all right or to get a good seat for some exchange of hostilities, Nick didn’t know. Other drivers in vehicles behind the SUV—obviously not attuned to what was holding up traffic—leaned on their horns while Nick, his arm still around her, helped Isabel limp back to the sidewalk.
The SUV took off with an audible tear of rubber.
“You okay?” a girl they passed asked.
The kids were all concentrating on them now.
“Yeah, fine, thanks,” Isabel said.
She didn’t sound fine, Nick thought, and how could she be after that scare? His own pulse was jagging as if he’d run a marathon.
“You want to go back inside?” he asked.
“No.” Though she still seemed dazed, Isabel looked all around them. “I’m fine. Just shaken up. I want to get away from here. But my backpack…”
“I’ll check.” Reluctantly, Nick let her go and stepped away for a moment to look for it. “Not here. Did anyone see a backpack?”
Answering murmurs were all negative, and several of the teens moved off.
He returned to Isabel’s side. “It’s…um…gone.”
“Like L-Louise.”
He realized she might be dazed, but she was checking out the kids still there as though she would spot her sister if she looked hard enough. He took her in his arms again and lightly held her against his chest.
“Louise isn’t here, Isabel,” he murmured into her hair. “And neither are your things.”
“I don’t c-care about things.”
Shock was setting in. And so was the cold front that had brought the temperature down a good ten degrees or so. She was shivering against him, Nick realized. If it got any cooler or rained like predicted, their search would be called to a halt.
“Let’s go somewhere to get a drink,” he suggested.
Pushing herself away from him, she said, “I don’t need a drink.”
Now she was sounding peevish. She needed to sit and calm down. “Well, I need a drink,” he insisted. “A double.”
Taking her hand, Nick led Isabel down the block to a neighborhood restaurant with a pleasant bar he liked. Not a fancy place, it was cozy and dark and decorated with tiny white Christmas lights all year round. A booth in the corner was empty, so he commandeered it, ordered Isabel to sit and fetched two double brandies from the bar.
Isabel remained quiet long enough that Nick was starting to worry about her. He watched her hand tremble as she lifted the brandy to her lips. And his eyes widened when, rather than taking a small sip, she gulped the whole drink.
“Oh,” she murmured as she set down the empty glass next to a lit candle. Her eyes widened, as well. “That’s better.”
“At least you know you’re still alive.”
“If bruised and grubby and missing my backpack.”
Her lifeline, he thought. “So the flashlight is gone. And the cell phone.”
“Actually, the Maglite is clipped to a loop on my jeans.” She showed him. “And the cell phone is in my pocket—luckily, I’ve had it there all day—and my wallet is in the other pocket.”
“Then you’re down to the basics. But you don’t have anything to worry about,” Nick said, “unless you had another clean T-shirt stashed in that bag.”
“Among other things.”
“Unmentionables?”
She stared at him suspiciously. “Knowing you, you’d like me to mention them.”
“Thoroughly and often.”
The teasing brought a tentative smile to her lips.
“Another drink?” he asked.
“Give this one a minute to kick in.”
The dim light suited Isabel. It softened her. Or maybe that was simply the brandy already kicking in. She
was relaxing before his eyes. So beautiful. So soft. No, the last was an illusion, he reminded himself.
He didn’t know another woman who could be harder when she needed to be. Or one more talented at being whatever she deemed necessary for the situation.
Was that what she was doing now?
Somehow, Nick didn’t think so. More and more, he felt she was showing her true self to him. And rather than being a bonus, that made him uncomfortable. It made him think of her as a real flesh-and-blood woman—one he cared about. It made him think that what they were doing was questionable—or, rather, what he’d let her do the night before.
“Where did you learn to drink like that?” he asked, trying to get his mind around his growing guilt.
“I hang around with politicians, remember. Deals don’t always get made in official places.”
Nick took a swig of his own drink. “And that’s okay with you?”
Isabel sighed and looked at him as though he were too naive for words. “It’s reality, Nick. It’s been that way for, oh, centuries? Isn’t that the way the rest of the world works—contracts made through networking? For instance, your deal with Gideon. How did that come about?”
Remembering he’d met Gideon at the club bar, Nick caved. “Okay, you have a point.” He saluted her and took another sip of the brandy. Mellowing himself, he asked, “So what the hell happened out there on the street? Did you miss the curb? Or trip?”
“Neither. I was pushed.”
He swore under his breath. “One of those guys horsing around must have bumped into you.”
“No, not bumped. Pushed.”
That took him aback. “You mean…purposely?”
“I felt hands in the middle of my back, Nick. Yes, I mean purposely.”
So that was the reason she’d been checking out the crowd so thoroughly after he’d helped her up. And here he’d thought she’d simply been looking for her sister.
“What the hell?” he murmured.
“You can say that again.”
“Why would some kid try to hurt someone he didn’t know?” Nick frowned, trying to remember if he saw anyone who’d looked suspicious. No, he’d been concentrating on her. “Unless he was high on something.”
“Right. He was probably high,” she agreed.
But the simple conclusion left him uneasy. Left him wondering if there was another explanation. A connection to their being followed the night before.
Nick didn’t want to believe it, but he was beginning to suspect someone might be after Isabel herself.
ANOTHER BRANDY LATER, Isabel felt as if she’d been lit by a torch inside. She was relaxed, almost happy…except for the moments when Louise crossed her mind.
“So, Nick, tell me about you,” she demanded. If she kept him talking, she wouldn’t have to think for a while and she surely could use a break from worrying. Besides, fair was fair. He’d wanted to know about her—not that she’d given him much—so it was his turn to talk. “What is it you want out of life?”
“Getting philosophical?”
Isabel started when he turned her own words back against her. Turnabout was fair play, she guessed. “More like curious about the real you.”
“I want the same thing as everyone—to be happy.”
“Are you?”
“Sometimes.”
She fiddled with the brandy glass, watched the small pool of amber liquid slide across the bottom. “Like when?”
“When I do something that gives my life meaning.”
“Like making your documentary on the runaway teenagers.”
“There’s that,” he agreed.
Again, Isabel thought about following his lead. The past twenty-four hours had been a real eye-opener. She’d barely had a taste, but she was beginning to understand how bad it could be, especially for kids who weren’t prepared to take care of themselves.
Life on the Streets.
She could see it now. An article. A feature in the Sunday Tribune Magazine, perhaps. She needed a personal angle. Not her sister, though. She would never use Louise like that. But what would be wrong with using the things she was actually experiencing?
A firsthand account…hmm.
“Where did you go?”
Realizing Nick was waving a hand in front of her face, she came to with a start. “Oh, sorry. I was just thinking.” Not wanting him to ask about what until she had it figured out—she didn’t want him laughing at her—she said, “So, what else makes you happy?”
A strange expression flicked through his features. “I take things day to day and try to find something, even a small thing, to appreciate.”
Why did she get the feeling that one of those things included being with her? Throat tight, she asked, “As in?”
“Sitting on that park bench earlier today. Laughing with you.”
He did mean her!
Had things changed in Nick’s mind? Isabel was certain that he hadn’t wanted to help her. That he’d only agreed with stipulations because he wanted to get even.
“Simple things,” she murmured.
“I’m a simple guy.”
“Liar.” Nick Novak was perhaps the most complex man she’d ever known—and, despite that she called him a liar, probably the most honest. “Just because you’re not into making money—”
“Ah, there it is!” he said, leaning forward so the table candle distorted his face with shadows and light.
“There? What?”
“The money god. I can’t forget how important a big bank account is to you.”
“Says who?”
“Wasn’t my poverty and low-class existence the reason you broke up with me?”
A pulse beat in her throat. “Not exactly.”
“What exactly, then?”
Tempted to tell Nick the truth, Isabel couldn’t give him the motivation to go after her father, not now. Especially not with an election coming up and the Senate seat on the line. And, considering what Nick had required her to do in exchange for his cooperation, she knew he was capable of anything.
“We’re supposed to be talking about you, not the past,” she reminded him, trying to turn the conversation back to a safer topic.
“The past is about me.”
“I would rather have a look into your future.”
“I’m never going to be rich,” he predicted.
Money, again. He certainly was hung up on the subject.
“What about having a place to call home?” she asked. “Is that in your future?”
“Not immediate. I’m in no hurry to burden myself with a house or condo and all the trappings that go with ownership.”
“You could rent a nice apartment and get a roommate,” she suggested.
“In case you forget, I don’t play well with others.”
“You play very well when you want to,” Isabel murmured, once again remembering things better left forgotten.
How he’d charmed her.
How he’d seduced her.
How she’d broken his heart.
She thought he remembered, too. The way he was looking at her—with hunger in his eyes—made her think his mind was on what they shared before her betrayal. Her pulse rushed and her cheeks flared with heat. That longing she’d tried to ignore stretched toward him with invisible arms.
“Aren’t you ever lonely?” she asked softly.
“I have friends.”
That wasn’t what she wanted to know. Of course he had friends. Nick always had friends. Probably good friends he would go the distance for, and vice versa. But how well did he let them know him? Who did he let in and how far?
Somehow, Isabel didn’t think he’d changed in that respect. He’d kept a side of himself buried deep, but she’d always known it existed. He simply hadn’t trusted her enough to show it to her. And considering the way things had turned out, perhaps that had been for the best. But how sad if he couldn’t be open with anyone.
Just the way she couldn’t.
The compa
rison gave her a rush that felt like a real connection. Some things they had in common—mistrust and secrets. What a great way to build a relationship!
Isabel reminded herself that’s not what she was doing with Nick. Once they found Louise, she had no idea if she would ever see him again. The thought left a lump in her stomach and a renewed warning to keep her emotional distance.
Shoving the brandy glass away from her, she said, “Well, I’m ready.”
He raised an eyebrow and repeated, “Ready?”
Determined not to let him bait her, she kept her voice even. “To check out the shed.”
“Oh, that.”
What had he thought? That plied with a little brandy she would be ready to jump his bones? Well, perhaps she was, but Louise still came first.
Exiting the bar into the night gave Isabel pause. “The temperature is still dropping.” Her sweater was in the missing backpack. “And it smells like rain.”
As she said it, a rumble in the distance punctuated the observation.
“Then we’d better be quick about it,” Nick said, after which he remained strangely silent.
They raced up Milwaukee and then cut toward the raised railroad tracks. As they took the underpass to get to the north side, Isabel said, “I don’t know about this.” She didn’t see any break, any way to get onto the railroad property. Either they were faced with a sheer drop or an incline protected by a chain-link fence. “I think we may be on a wild-goose chase.”
And soon they would be chased by rain. The thunder rumbled closer, after which lightning split the night sky.
“Patience,” Nick reminded her.
Rosalyn had been correct about the new construction, but Nick didn’t let that—or her—stop him. He zigged around a half-completed house and zagged around the foundation of a second. And Isabel followed, all the while preparing herself for disappointment.
“Over there,” he said, rushing forward toward a large tree that cut through the fencing.
Before she could comment that the supposed opening didn’t look large enough, he stepped up on the knee of the tree where it stuck out from the hill, then squeezed himself between bark and steel, just as Rosalyn had told them she and Louise had done so many times. At his size, he barely made it through. Grabbing on to the fence post, Isabel took the step up and slid through more easily than she’d thought possible.
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