11

by Kylie Brant

  Twenty minutes passed. Thirty. Then there was a slight sound. A shoe on cement. Her muscles bunched. Poised to spring. Unblinkingly she kept her eyes on the door. Watched it slowly swing inward. Forced herself to wait until a figure darkened the doorway. Took a step inside.

  Then she lunged. Mia was halfway across the room when a primitive area of her brain raised an alarm. The figure was bigger than Four would be. Taller than he would be. Simultaneously the stranger held up a pinpoint of light. Uttered one word.

  “Mia.”

  She halted with a suddenness that had her body swaying in place. And was swamped with a tangle of conflicting emotion when she recognized the voice.

  Jude Bishop.

  * * * *

  He flipped on the light. Took in everything in the space of a few seconds. Her sentry chair. Her weapons. And with an exaggerated glance behind him, the open door. “You did everything but leave a trail of gumdrops.”

  Adrenaline…at fever pitch moments ago was ebbing with an abruptness that left her muscles weak. “Why are you here?” Whatever she’d felt upon recognizing him, it was frustrated temper that was uppermost now. She reached out and gripped a handful of his shirt to pull him further inside the room and shut the door. “You’re going to ruin everything.”

  “If by everything you mean your possible death and or kidnapping, that was sort of the point.”

  She shook her head, partly because she was unable to believe they were having this conversation yet again. And partly because she had to be a complete cretin to have felt, even for a moment, an unexpected burst of joy at seeing him again.

  “I realize I left somewhat abruptly. If I neglected to fill out a customer satisfaction survey you can email it to me.” She tucked the pepper spray into a pocket and placed her hand against his arm in an effort to nudge him on his way. He didn’t move.

  “I didn’t come because I have a problem with client rejection,” he muttered irritably. His expression matched his tone. He hadn’t shaved that day, and his jaw was shadowed with whiskers. Though she’d often found his moss green eyes enigmatic, it was all too easy to read the annoyance in his gaze now. He turned and went to the door, opening it far enough to swing the latch back inside and shut it.

  “Then why are you here?” She went to the window and cracked the blinds to look outside. Nothing was moving. The lights on the walkway were still dark, leaving the stretch of rooms on either side of her in shadows. If Four was out there somewhere watching, Jude’s arrival would make her pull back. Or leave completely.

  “Because I’m ignoring every ounce of professional business sense I have for a client with self-destructive urges.”

  Dropping the blind, she turned to face him. “Ex-client. We’ve had this conversation before. Nothing has changed. You can’t talk me out of this. Not when you have no better alternative for getting a line on where he keeps those women. They’ve waited over five years. Did they think my escape would mean they’d be rescued? Have they spent every day since then, hope evaporating because I wasn’t observant enough when I left? I didn’t give a thought to how I’d lead the police back to them. I wasn’t thinking at all.” She drew a breath, half surprised at the ferocity of the words. They were true. Every one of them. And every day of her freedom she’d lived with the accompanying guilt.

  He was still, watching her. His presence shrank the room somehow, made him seem closer, bigger than he really was. Mia drew a breath. He was just a man. It had been years since she’d gotten jittery being in contact with males. But this particular one elicited responses that were unfamiliar. Maybe it wasn’t him who made her uneasy at all. Perhaps it was her reaction to him that set those inner alarms shrilling. Pushing her hair back from her face, she grappled for reason.

  “You didn’t erase your history on the computer at the apartment.” The non sequitur caught her off guard. “Kacee found it when it was brought back to the offices. She’s convinced that the fact you left evidence of your location was an open invitation for one of us to follow you. Called it a Rapunzel complex.”

  Now she was completely stupefied. “You mean because I signed up for a data plan and turned on location services for my iPad? Of course I didn’t erase it. It’s my fall back. I bought an iPhone and enabled it, too. If by some chance things don’t go my way with Four, someone could locate us if I have either of the devices with me. At least they could find the last point we were before they were discovered. That way even my death wouldn’t necessarily end the chances of finding the other women. I’ve thought this through, Jude. I’m not stupid.”

  “Not stupid at all. Just unbelievably fatalistic.” He tucked something in his jeans pocket. His cell phone, she realized. He must have a flashlight app on it. “I suspected as much. I can’t figure out if I’m more disturbed when I can predict what you’re thinking or when I misread you completely.” His meaning was clear.

  Heat warmed her cheeks. She couldn’t meet his gaze. But if anything this scene was a reminder of why she had to leave the way she did. “I hope you weren’t too hard on Caro.”

  “I blamed myself more.” He went to the bathroom and carried the chair she had set there back into the room. Sat in it and rolled his shoulders tiredly.

  Foreboding filled her. “Did you get a room?”

  Giving an exaggerated look around, he said, “Looks like you have plenty of space.”

  “No. You can’t stay here.”

  His brow cocked sardonically. “How do you propose to get rid of me?”

  Urgency settled in her chest. “She won’t come if you’re in here. I have to be alone.”

  “We have time.” He toed his shoes off. Stretched. “You left a trail a child could follow with credit cards alone. But you’ve convinced me that Four is a tool and she doesn’t move without being activated. I doubt it will be immediate.”

  “She may already be here.” Explaining about the lights going out earlier, she ended with, “That’s why I left the door open. Being fully prepared gives me an advantage.”

  “As much advantage as anyone has when they’re inviting violence.” But he rose and went to the door, unlocked it and stepped outside. It was several minutes before he returned. “Both bulbs are missing. You’re sure the lights were on earlier?”

  The question had her setting her teeth. If she were even half as security unconscious as he tried to make her feel, she wouldn’t have lasted a week living alone abroad. “Quite sure.”

  “They would have been too tall for her to reach without standing on something. Did you hear anything before they went out?”

  “No. Something woke me, though. And I saw a shadow move across the window around two.” A sudden thought occurred. “How long were you out there?”

  “About fifteen minutes before I came in. I was checking license plates on cars.” He locked the door behind him and returned to the chair he’d vacated earlier. “None had Virginia plates, so it didn’t tell me much.”

  That surprised her. “Mine is out there. Navy Ford compact.”

  “A rental?”

  “From Dulles.”

  He shifted to get more comfortable in the chair. “If it’s an open-ended rental they often give you a car with out-of-state plates in the hopes of getting them returned closer to the car’s home.”

  Silence stretched then. Nerves scampered through her system. “Jude.” His name tasted foreign on her tongue. She realized with a degree of surprise she’d never used it before. At least out loud. “What are you really doing here?”

  He didn’t respond for a minute. Then, “Short of convincing you to give this whole thing up?”

  “That isn’t going to happen.”

  “Then I’m here to keep you from getting yourself killed. Call it a professional courtesy. I realize—and believe me, this isn’t easy to admit—that I can’t force you to listen to reason. If you’re set on using yourself as bait, there are methods to consider. You don’t want the showdown to occur in a motel room, for instance. There are too many
weapons here you’d be putting at her disposal. The lamp or its cord. The chair. The room confines her actions, but they restrict you, too. And that pepper spray you had in your hand? Bad idea in an enclosed space. Most likely it’d drift back and you’d be cross-contaminated. It should be used in an open area, outdoors, to be most effective.”

  Because his suggestions had merit she considered them seriously. “So where do I want to stage the meeting with her?”

  “Outside, but in a place of your choosing. The more familiar you are with the area the more advantage you have. First you map escape routes, both yours and those she might take to evade you. You check for potential weapons. The likelihood of witnesses. Choosing the location gives you the upper hand.” He slouched further down in the chair in an obvious quest to get more comfortable. Considering its back hit him mid-spine, comfort was going to be difficult to achieve.

  “Is that what you learned in the military? How to stage an ambush?” Her attempt at humor fell flat. There was no answering flicker of amusement in his expression. His voice when he spoke was flat.

  “I was a Marine. Recon. So yeah, I know a thing or two about that. I also learned not to send someone into battle alone.” She was left with no doubt about his feelings. Jude was no happier about this idea than he’d been in the safe house. He couldn’t very well toss her over his shoulder and haul her back to DC against her will. But he had a myriad of other options. She wasn’t his responsibility anymore. He had nothing to gain from coming after her, at least that she could figure out. And yet here he was.

  I learned not to send someone into battle alone. The words evoked an odd sense of relief. He wasn’t here for her; it was some dated noble calling inside him that had compelled him to come. Mia wouldn’t have known what to do with someone else’s sense of obligation, and she certainly didn’t want to be responsible for him. People who strayed into her path of personal misfortune had a habit of winding up dead.

  Thoughts of Hoa and Dr. Halston brought a knot to her throat. Two people had died because of their association with her. Despite the doubts he’d expressed, Jude couldn’t convince her otherwise. It would be better for her to be alone. Cleaner. She’d had everything mapped out specifically so that no one else would get caught up in this mess. Mia didn’t think she could handle it if someone else ended up hurt—or dead—because of a connection to her.

  It was only then that she realized she was still holding the knife. Feeling foolish, she put it back in the sheath. Lowered the hem of her shirt.

  He didn’t owe her anything. Not like she owed those women left with The Collector. But she hadn’t reckoned on his misguided sense of duty to a woman he barely knew. She crossed finally to the bed. Sat down on the edge. There was nothing to do about his presence now. Mia couldn’t get rid of him if she wanted to. She had even less chance of extricating Jude from her plan as he did at talking her out of it.

  She sent a troubled gaze toward him. He was half lying in the chair, his long legs crossed at the ankle in a pose that would likely have his back screaming for a week. “You’re not going to be able to sleep.”

  “I will. If you stop talking.”

  Mia gave a mental sigh. Wished the words didn’t feel like surrender. “You can have the bed.” Saying it out loud was as good as admitting what she’d already recognized. He was here to stay, regardless of how she felt about it.

  “There’s room for both of us.” His words brought a spurt of panic, but he was already on his feet and approaching her. She rolled to the other side. Would have slipped off the mattress had he not laid his hand on her arm.

  “We both need sleep, Mia.” His voice was a low rumble in the darkness. “And call me suspicious, but I don’t trust you across the room close to a door.”

  Ignoring the apprehension filtering through her system, she set a pillow against the headboard. Propped herself against it. She hadn’t slept with someone else in the room since—her mind skirted the end of that thought. Not since her escape. Already her palms were damp. Her breathing quickening.

  Stupid, she chided herself. Jude Bishop wasn’t a threat to her. Logically she knew that. It was a simple matter of control. Mind over reflex. She focused on releasing tension from each muscle at a time. Toes. Foot. Calf.

  “Why Vietnam?”

  She froze. “What do you mean?”

  He wasn’t having the same problem she was relaxing. He was sprawled on the bed, taking up more than his share of space. “I mean why go there? How did you pick the countries you lived in? You were in Panama first, right?”

  Shifting lower in the bed, she considered. She wasn’t used to explaining her decisions. Had no one close to talk to in nearly a decade. Wouldn’t have allowed anyone near enough if they’d tried. “Well…cost of living was one consideration. It was possible I’d spend the rest of my life abroad so I wasn’t looking for someplace with extravagant prices. I weighed things like ex-pat population. Climate. Safety for women.” That had ruled out several countries out of hand. “Distance away from the states. I…felt safer the further away I moved.”

  “Good things to consider. Is that why you left Panama?”

  Under the blanket of darkness the conversation took on an intimacy she was unused to. But it was also easier to speak when she couldn’t see his face. Watch for his reactions. She’d become a world-class observer and she couldn’t seem to turn the trait off. “I wasn’t crazy about the rainy season, but it was nice there. Pretty. But it was difficult for me to settle down. If I stayed in one place for too long I began feeling…”

  “…trapped.”

  “Exactly.” She brought up a hand to stifle a yawn. “Paranoia was my driving force and I hadn’t learned to control it then. I moved around. Then eventually decided to try another country.”

  “And landed in Bermuda.” His voice sounded sleepy. She knew for a fact that he was capable of instant slumber. And realized in a flash that the conversation was for her benefit. Like when he’d recognized the beginning of a panic attack in Raiker’s lab.

  Knowing that he could read her so well should have been disconcerting. And it was on some level. It also suffused her with an odd warmth. “Someone I met in Panama City talked about its beauty all the time. And it was. Gorgeous.” She’d meant to stay as long as she had in Panama. At least a couple years. Had only made it one before nerves had propelled her to run further. Hide deeper.

  “I was planning on Thailand next. Certainly it’s easier to get into. But when I compared it with Vietnam online I got sucked in by the scenery. When you have no job to go to, no set routine, it helps to have mountains and beautiful beaches to explore.” Her voice was wry. “Of course, the monsoon season was something of a downside.”

  “And after this is over?” He rolled to his side, shortening the distance between them. She was intensely aware of that fact. And the expected anxiety was there. Her heart rate sped up. Her muscles tensed. But the responses were more muted than before. Sheer exhaustion, perhaps. “What will you do when there’s no longer any reason to run? When you can do exactly as you please without looking over your shoulder?”

  “I don’t know.” Better to ignore the question than to admit she hadn’t let herself think about it. What-ifs belonged to people with a future. People who could afford to dream and hope. Those who actually remembered how to hope. After eight and a half years she finally had a purpose. Something that drove her besides fear and pain, nightmares and rampant paranoia. It could be enough. If in some small way she could help free those women she’d ask for nothing else.

  “Start thinking about it, Mia.” His voice was barely audible, as if he were fighting sleep. “The guys I wanted at my side in a fire fight? They weren’t the ones who had nothing to lose. They were the ones who had something to live for.”

  She considered his words long after he slept. Long after she should have followed suit. He was still turned toward her, and she watched him in the darkness. His position was likely to ensure that she didn’t sneak off. His
ruined cheek was pressed against the mattress and only a perfect profile was visible. Jude was the embodiment of his own words. He’d survived. More probably, than she could know. Even more, he’d thrived. And that was a condition she was still striving for.

  She could be satisfied with less. A sense of contentment. Life without fear. It was more than she’d once dared ask for.

  But optimism about the future was something she wouldn’t even try to resurrect. Because there was no pain quite like that of hope dying, a fraction at a time.

  Ironically enough, for a woman who could buy just about anything she desired, hope was the one luxury she couldn’t afford.

  * * * *

  Mia woke up to find herself alone in the bed and more than a little shocked to discover she’d slept. No dreams, unless she counted that constant buzz of nerves that she blamed more on Jude’s presence than the possibility of Four being nearby.

  The bathroom door opened and he stood framed in the center of it, clad only in unbuttoned jeans. There was an open duffel bag sitting on the chair by the desk. Shock filtered through her. She’d not only slept, she’d done so soundly enough that she hadn’t heard him go out to retrieve the bag. Hadn’t even heard the shower running. Stunned, she shoved her hand through her hair and watched him mutely.

  “Sorry.” He crossed to his luggage and dug around in it, straightening with socks and a navy tee in his hand. “It’s still pretty early. I didn’t want to wake you.”

  Glancing at the clock she saw that it read six-thirty. So they’d only slept a few hours. Nothing unusual about that. But the fact that she’d slept like the dead next to him was unusual.

  “I’ll be done in here in a minute. Need to shave.” He rubbed his free hand over his jaw. “Unless…” He cocked his head toward the room he’d just vacated. “If you need it first…”

  “No. I’m fine.”

  He disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Mia let out a long stream of pent-up breath. Bounced from the bed and headed to her backpack. She was used to traveling light, and his bag held more than her pack did. At least…she snuck a peek. It had more space. It looked as though he only had another change of clothes and some sort of gadget enclosed in a black case.