Concealed Identity

by Jessica R. Patch

  “Jeremy had a drug problem. But he’s clean now.”

  “You think this was drug related? Someone in here pilfering for a score?”

  Blair slunk against the wall. “Perhaps. I honestly don’t know. He could have relapsed and gone off on a drug binge. But that doesn’t explain an intruder in the house unless someone knew they could find drugs here. And the truth is, I can’t believe he’d have fallen back into old ways. He’s done so well.”

  What if Jeremy had relapsed? Drugs were dangerous. While she’d never done them, she’d been around men whose entire business was about them. Her knees buckled with the weight of fear and anxiety.

  Holt reached out and buoyed her. She wanted to confide in this man, to lean on him for support, but she’d been burned badly by Mateo.

  “It’s going to be okay, Blair. Somehow it will.”

  This man, holding her, stroking her hair, made her want to believe those words. Not only for Jeremy, but for herself and for Gigi.

  She pulled back, peered into his eyes. In those blue depths she saw concern, fear and frustration.

  She was going to have to take a chance.

  God, I can’t do this alone. Please help me not to make the same stupid mistakes I’ve made in the past.

  “Blair, I can help you. Let me help you. Please.”

  She almost laughed. What was one lone outdoorsman going to do against an entire drug cartel? He’d have to be Superman. A hero. Invincible. “You don’t understand.” A wave of shame from her past flooded over her. The heat of embarrassment crept into her neck and cheeks.

  “Help me, then.” He framed her face, the coolness of his skin relieving the burning in hers. “You can confide in me. I promise.”

  Blair wanted to. She wanted to believe this man was everything he appeared to be: honest, heroic, trustworthy.

  She hoped he was the real deal. The alternative was unthinkable.

  * * *

  Holt’s heartbeat thrummed inside his ears. When he’d heard the kaboom in the guest room and saw Blair lying on the floor, it had sent a raging frenzy through his bones.

  She had to trust him. To confide in him. For her sake. For Jeremy’s. For Bryan’s. With every second that ticked by, people he cared about moved further from Holt’s reach. Terror rippled up his spine and guilt churned in his gut.

  Blair was the key to finding Jeremy, and maybe even Agent Livingston. Whether she knew it or not.

  If she was innocent, why not call the police? Why not even bring it up now? She was withholding information. “Have you filed a missing person’s report?”

  “No.” She ducked her head, avoiding eye contact. “I thought maybe he’d gone off on his own for a while, but...”

  He hadn’t. The apartment’s smell alone made it clear he hadn’t disappeared of his own accord. Who leaves town without taking the trash out? Someone had Jeremy. Or worse. With the guilt Holt was carrying, he couldn’t imagine how Blair felt. “Do you want to?” Blair didn’t know the DEA, FBI and Memphis PD Homicide Unit were—unofficially—looking into Jeremy’s disappearance. At least Holt had that peace. What peace did Blair have? None. She must feel like a roller coaster inside.

  But he could give her that peace. And still keep his cover. “I could take you to the police.” Take her straight to either of his good friends, Eric Hale or Luke Ransom—both homicide detectives and stand-up guys. He’d worked with each of them and now Eric was his family since he’d married Holt’s cousin, Bryn Eastman.

  “No!” Her eyes glazed over with fright.

  “Why?” She wasn’t involved in Jeremy’s disappearance. That much Holt firmly believed. And he couldn’t imagine she was directly tied to any other criminal activities. But she lived in the same town that Alejandro Gonzalez had been seen in. That was odd to say the least.

  And for whatever reason, she was being targeted, whether by Gonzalez and his goons or someone else.

  He was certain of one thing: no one was going to touch a hair on her head. Whoa! Where were these fierce feelings coming from? He focused on her tortured face. Emotions he didn’t want to identify emerged.

  “I think he’s...” A tear trickled down her cheek. Someone had scared the mess out of her. She’d opened up some, if she could just be brave and confide in him. Trust him completely.

  “Blair, you’re in trouble. I can tell.”

  She still wouldn’t look him in the eye.

  “Fine. Don’t tell me.” Frustration leaped into his words. Not just because he was losing precious time finding her brother and his colleague, but because he wanted her trust. He wanted her to lean on him.

  Even though he shouldn’t.

  “I—”

  “It’s obvious you’re freaked out, but you won’t go to the police.” He softened. It was time to give her the peace she so desperately needed. “I know someone who can help who isn’t a cop. He’s a private investigator. And he could look into what happened. Maybe find out where Jeremy is.”

  Technically, Eric wasn’t a private investigator. But if Blair agreed, Holt would take her to Eric and let him put her at ease. Let her know he was looking into things. Yeah, he was fudging the truth, but if it helped her sleep, Holt wasn’t above it.

  Someone must have forced her hand to steer clear of the cops. Saying Eric wasn’t a cop might garner a yes out of her.

  For a brief moment her chin quivered and her eyes seemed hopeful—something he couldn’t even muster—but she tamped it down. Inhaling deeply, she shook her head. “Jeremy has a friend. Someone he said he could depend on. Could rely on. He helped him get clean and keeps him accountable. I need to find that friend. He might know where Jeremy is. Maybe they’re together. Could you...could you help me do that?”

  Holt’s insides wilted.

  Yeah. He could help her find that friend. She was staring right at him with watery eyes, and he wanted desperately to tell her. But his job said to follow protocol. He’d never been more torn. But he’d never once broken cover. He couldn’t start now.

  All he could offer was some solace in the form of a fake private investigator and his word to help her. “No one would have to know, Blair, if that’s what’s got you worked up. Don’t you want some peace?” He surely did. “I got a vague look at the guy. I could even give the PI a description.” He’d already called his handler on the way back to the parking lot after the chase and given him the rundown, including a physical description of the assailant. Maybe something would pop.

  Blair squeezed her eyes closed. “Yes,” she murmured. When she opened them resolve hardened her jaw. “But let’s find that friend first. Please, don’t press me right now.” She darted away, leaving a cold void swirling around him. “Maybe there’s a scrap of paper or something with a name and number.”

  She was grasping at straws. No one wrote numbers down anymore; everything was stored on smartphones. But apparently, she needed to appear like she was doing something useful, when she knew she wasn’t. And that had to eat at her. Not being able to reassure her that people were looking for Jeremy sent his gut climbing walls.

  But this was his job. He’d known that going in.

  He just didn’t expect to care as much as he did on a personal level. And at this speed? It terrified him.

  Running a hand through his hair, he huffed and started digging. He wasn’t looking for a phone number, but someone trashed this place for a reason. Probably the same person who’d caught Jeremy snooping. The same person who might have been combing the apartment for anything incriminating. They’d caught him midway through. Interrupted his search.

  Holt would pick up where the attacker had left off. The second bedroom. He wouldn’t press Blair about the police right now. They were already on the case anyway. But he was going to find out why she wouldn’t contact them. She loved her family too much to turn a blind
eye to what was threatening them.

  He was also going to discover who was targeting her—that would help direct his investigation. Was it the Juarez Mexican Cartel? Another known or unknown drug affiliate? Hector Salvador himself? Or had Jeremy stumbled upon something entirely different at the trucking company he worked for? Either way, Blair was being silenced against her will, and Holt was determined to do everything in his power to keep her safe.

  FOUR

  “Bubba’s?” That’s the name of this place? The place I’m going to find all my outdoor needs.” Holt stared at the sign in front of Bubba’s with a skeptical look on his face. Blair held in her laughter, surprised she could laugh at all after everything that had transpired an hour ago. Holt didn’t press her for more information, but he’d mentioned several times that they should go home.

  What would going home do? She couldn’t do anything there, and she hadn’t found any further clues or phone numbers at Jeremy’s. Did she really think she would? No. But she needed to do something to help. And if she couldn’t help Jeremy at the moment, she could help Holt. She owed him that much, after the way he’d protected her. He’d been fierce. Determined.

  But it hadn’t been enough for her to pour out her sordid past and admit she’d made grave mistakes.

  She’d opened up, then clammed up.

  “Well, it doesn’t win any points for originality, but it does the trick. And you need to stock your store.” Blair shrugged and entered the old building. Aged floors creaked, and the smell of mothballs, must and rotting wood relaxed her. She was at home with old. With the past. Not her own, but that of others. Her past was a nightmare and her life at present was a vortex of uncertainty.

  Not going to the police might get Jeremy killed. Going to the police would absolutely get him killed. And Gigi. Maybe even Holt. Who knew? Had she made the right decision, turning down the private investigator? God, help me! I need Your wisdom.

  “There’s no rhyme or reason to this place, Blair. How will we find anything?” He swiped his forehead. “Not to mention it’s hotter than a brick oven.”

  Blair paused and turned. “I had no idea you were a whiner. Huh. Learn something new every day.” She slipped down a narrow aisle of stacked furniture, magazines, old televisions. Holt, too broad-shouldered to fit, turned and maneuvered through by sidestepping his way down the jumbled labyrinth.

  “I’m not a whiner. I’m...overwhelmed,” he muttered. “I don’t see any prices.”

  “It’s all negotiable.”

  “I’m in Thailand again,” Holt huffed. “Not even a box fan to circulate the air? Really?”

  “I think they’re selling some cheese to go with that whine.”

  “It’ll be moldy for sure.” Holt smirked.

  Moldy like the leftover slices of pizza at Jeremy’s. Another wave of guilt immersed Blair. She needed to be doing something other than shopping and battling her growing attraction to Holt. Okay, the attraction had been instant. A woman would have to be dead not to want to gawk at that physique, but his personality was becoming as intensely captivating as his looks. She couldn’t afford the distraction. Someone out there was after her. Might even be watching her now. Chills ran up her arms and she rubbed them away. Should she take Holt up on that private investigator...and why did Holt know a PI? Look at what you’ve done to me, Mateo!

  She couldn’t blame it all on him. Blair had made the choice to go through with the marriage so fast, even when she’d felt unsure. She should have realized that whirlwinds, while consuming, destroy everything in their path. Would she ever be able to love and trust again? Not that she was planning to fall in love with Holt. But someday she’d like to have a husband and family.

  Right now Blair would rather give up her dream to find a happily-ever-after in order to guard herself against making more bad choices in the romance department. No choice was better than making a wrong choice, right?

  Holt’s hand rested on her shoulder. “Hey, if you don’t want to be here, we can go home. I’d understand. And my offer still stands. Whatever you need.” Tenderness resided in his shockingly blue eyes. His smile softened, and she couldn’t help glancing at the cleft in his chin, taking in his square jaw, prominent cheekbones. His focus was on her alone. His thoughts were on nothing but what she was feeling. This must be what safety felt like. It enveloped her heart, sped up her pulse then brought it back down to peaceful. Calm. She drifted away into the moment.

  “You don’t have a single flaw on that face,” she whispered as her face filled with heat. She did not just say that. Out. Loud.

  Holt’s grin spread. “I like the way you change a subject, Blair Sullivan.”

  “What I meant was...” That was exactly what she meant. “Let’s find the camping equipment, shall we?” She marched forward, paused. “I appreciate the offer. I’ll consider it.”

  Holt going to an investigator without her might be a smart idea. Her pursuers were watching her. How else would they know if she went to the police or not? But surely they wouldn’t be following Holt’s every move. Would they?

  She and Holt worked their way into the second half of the building, just as cramped and crowded as the first. Old motors, boats, paddles, rafts...endless items to choose from.

  “Dude,” Holt said. His eyes widened like a kid’s at Toys “R” Us. “We’re gonna need a bigger truck.”

  Blair chuckled. “Have at it, Holt. It’s your playground for the day.” Let him shop while she mulled over the possibilities. She could ask around at Jeremy’s work. See if anyone knew who that friend was or if Jeremy had a girlfriend. Anything. She tossed around the facts. She’d gone to the storage auction. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened there. Other than her finally winning a unit she really wanted. Then she’d almost been gunned down.

  Had Hector done something? Stolen from rival drug lords? Could this have been some odd retaliation? Did she dare call Hector? No. No way. Bringing him in would be dangerous. Especially if he wasn’t already involved.

  Holt interrupted her anxious thoughts with a gorgeous smile. “You’re the best person on the whole planet.”

  “Have you met everyone on the planet?”

  Grabbing her hand, and catching her off guard, he twirled her around as if she were Cinderella. Before she could help it, she let out the biggest belly laugh.

  “After this, I don’t need to. You’re it, Blair.” He disappeared into the fray and Blair worked on dissolving the catch in her throat. No one had ever told her she was it. He’d meant it jokingly, but it had done something unsettling to heart.

  No. Way. You aren’t falling for a smooth talker with flirty eyes and a smile that turns you to goo. So knock it off, Blair Sullivan. Knock it off. Charm is deceptive.

  Yesterday she thought he might be part of a drug cartel or a hit man. A few smiles later... How fickle could she be? But it wasn’t the smiles. They helped for sure, but it was the way he protected her. The day she and Gigi had been shot at and run off the road, today at the apartment. Offering to drive her around. He had nothing to gain by any of that.

  And the way he played pretend. It had made a direct impact on her heart, pulling at every string.

  Holt stepped around the corner, a fishing hat on his head, a bright orange hunting vest and a pair of rubber waders in one hand, a fishing pole in the other. “Pay dirt.”

  “You know that’s stock, not an early Christmas gift, right?”

  “A man can imagine.”

  Another flutter. “I think a healthy imagination is key to living a wonderful life.” Or the key to wishing for something you didn’t have. It was a two-way street.

  Holt dropped his treasures at her feet. “I’m making a pile. I figure if Bubba comes over you can start the negotiation process.”

  Which reminded her... “You said you’ve been to Thailand. When? Why?”
>
  “Oh... I went on a youth mission trip. I was sixteen.” He absently fiddled with the life vests. “Trina’s hair...” He laughed. “If you have curly hair, you’re in big trouble.”

  Blair studied him as he absently studied the waders. “Who’s Trina?”

  Holt’s head snapped up. “What?”

  “You said Trina’s hair.” Was she his sister? His face flashed with shock as if he’d said something he shouldn’t have. As if he’d let some kind of wall down. Blair would know a thing or two about that.

  “A girlfriend. High school girlfriend.” He jumped up. “I’m going back in.”

  Just a girlfriend? Blair didn’t think so. Not with the way he ran from the conversation, back into the aisles of equipment where he could regain his composure, resurrect the walls he’d accidentally left unattended while enjoying himself. That was exactly what Blair would have done. It told her another thing, as well. Holt had carried the same faith as she did at one time in his life. It was a mild comfort.

  After Mom died, Blair’s faith had slipped some. She still went to church and read her Bible at night like Grandma Viola had requested, but the praying thing dwindled. It was hard to trust a God Who took the one person she’d depended on most. Felt the most connected to. And so suddenly. Blair had never had the chance to say goodbye. She’d been asleep when Mom had left the house. Not even a last chance to say she loved her.

  She was...gone.

  When Blair discovered the truth about Mateo, she’d found her knees and prayer again.

  Bubba poked his head into the room and waved. “Blair, what can I help you with?” She explained what was happening today and haggled over prices while Holt continued to hide behind towers of coolers, outdoor cooking appliances, tackle boxes and hammocks.