Perilous Trust
Page 7
He wondered if he hadn't taken more from her than he'd given back. He hoped not. He hoped the night had been as good for her as it had been for him. He couldn't really imagine how it couldn't have been. It was the most memorable night of his life—maybe because it had just happened once. But that night was a long time ago now, and he needed to stay in the present.
He straightened and looked out the side view mirror, then glanced behind them. Since he'd last checked the road, a silver SUV had come into view.
"They've been there for a couple of minutes," Sophie said, looking into the rearview mirror.
He mentally cursed himself for getting lost in the past for even that long.
There appeared to be a couple in the front seat of the SUV: a man behind the wheel, a woman in the passenger seat.
"Do you think it's the person who shot at us?" Sophie asked with alarm. "What should I do? There's nowhere to pull off."
He could hear the panic in her voice and wished he was at the wheel. He would have forced that issue earlier, but Sophie had barely been willing to let him in the car; he hadn't wanted to push his luck.
"I don't think that's the shooter," he said. "But pick up your speed a little. Let's take the next turnoff, see if they follow."
"What if the turnoff is a dead end? Shouldn't we just try to outrun them?"
The curvy two-lane road didn't seem like a good option for a road race. "My gut tells me that they won't follow. Let's try turning off first."
The minutes ticked by as they both looked for an exit.
"There's a road," Sophie said with relief.
He put his hand on the side of the door as she took the turnoff a little fast. As they shot down the side road, he saw the SUV pass by on the main highway. Sophie drove another mile and then slowed down and pulled over to the side. She glanced in the rearview mirror. "I don't see them."
"Let's give it a minute."
As the road remained empty behind them, Sophie blew out a breath and gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry. I guess I'm jittery."
"Better to be acutely aware of your surroundings than not. How about letting me drive?"
She hesitated. "I can't."
"Because you think I'm going to drive you somewhere you don't want to go?"
"Maybe. Yes. I feel like I have one tiny thread of control right now, and it's only because my hands are on the steering wheel."
He could have taken control of her and the car at any moment, but he wasn't going to tell her that. He needed her to stay strong and if that meant she was at the wheel, he could live with it. "Then you can drive."
She pulled the car back onto the road, made a U-turn and returned to the highway.
They didn't speak for a while, and he was fine with that. He needed to keep his head in the game and talking to Sophie was distracting.
As she drove through the mountains, he could see that they were taking a circuitous route south, probably back to New York City or at least somewhere in that vicinity. But the trip was taking a torturously long time. They often found themselves behind slow-moving motorhomes or they'd spend long minutes sitting in lines of cars waiting to get past road construction.
After almost three hours, Sophie took an exit and pulled into a gas station. "I need to use the restroom, and we're almost out of gas."
"I'll take care of the gas."
"I have cash."
"I do, too. Hang on to yours for now."
She nodded wearily as they walked into the convenience store. They both used the facilities, then he prepaid the gas while Sophie grabbed drinks and snacks and met him back outside as he finished filling up the car.
"I know you want control," he said. "But you're exhausted, and I have a feeling we still have a long way to go. How about letting me take a turn driving?"
"I am tired," she admitted. "But I got energy drinks and candy bars, so I should be okay."
He smiled at her valiant effort to stay strong and to stay awake. "I'm sure we'll make good use of all of those, but let me drive. I promise I won't take you anywhere you don't want to go. Just give me some general directions, and I'm good."
He could see the conflict in her brown eyes, but eventually, she said, "All right."
He was relieved to win one battle, especially since he was very tired of being a passenger. Sophie might like control, but so did he.
As he got back onto the highway, a sign ahead offered several options. "Which way?"
"Stay to the right."
"We're not going back to New York City, are we?"
"No, we're going to Connecticut."
"What's in Connecticut?"
"You'll see when we get there."
"Do you know how annoying that answer is?"
She smiled for the first time, which was fairly incredible considering his words. "I know it's annoying, but somehow that makes this situation feel less terrifying. It's like we're normal; we're just two people annoying each other."
"Nothing about this is normal."
"I know. You're right. But in all honesty, my life has never really been normal. It has its moments, sometimes years, where things seem like they're going along smoothly, and then bam—everything changes. The floor drops out from under me. You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but it always takes me by surprise. I wonder when it won't."
He looked over at her, feeling a wave of compassion at her sad, bewildering tone. "I don't know, Sophie, but I don't think it's going to be this week."
"Me, either," she said with a sigh. "I might have to close my eyes for a minute, Damon. I feel so tired. I hardly slept last night."
"Take a rest. But before you do, can you give me a city? Otherwise, who knows where we'll be in Connecticut when you wake up?"
She hesitated, then said, "New Haven. Will you do what I was doing, Damon? Will you get off the highway occasionally, switch things up? It will take longer, but I think it will be worth it."
"I can do that. Don't worry. I'm very good at evasion tactics. I can spot a tail from miles away."
"What are we going to do about the car? A police officer might see the license and call it in."
"That's why I will take the back roads. We'll switch cars when I see the right opportunity."
"Okay," she said, settling back in her seat as her eyes drifted closed.
She was asleep within a second, and his gaze lingered on her face so long he almost went off the side of the road on the next turn.
Dragging his attention back to the highway, he told himself to concentrate on the mission—which, apparently, was taking Sophie to New Haven.
He'd never been there, but he knew Yale was there. Alan had gone to the university; so had Peter. That bothered him. If Alan was sending Sophie to another location that was tied to his life, then they might end up dodging more bullets.
He wished Sophie had been more forthcoming. While being an agent often required patience, he wasn't that good at waiting. He liked action. He liked results. But right now, all he could do was drive—and try not to look at Sophie.
She was getting under his skin again. Over the past few hours, the undercurrent of tension between them had been impossible to miss. Even with everything else going on, their past was lurking in the shadows.
It was easier not to think about that night when Sophie was awake, when someone was shooting at them, but now with her sitting so close, and with the endlessly long, empty road in front of him, he couldn't get her off his mind.
All the images he'd tried to forget were coming back in full, vivid glory. He could feel her body under his, and the memory of her taste made his lips tingle. It had a night to remember but one he needed so desperately to forget.
He thought he'd made some progress in that regard. He'd dated other women since Sophie. He'd kept busy building his career. He'd constantly reminded himself that love was for losers, and he wasn't going to be a loser ever again.
On the other hand, sex with a beautiful woman was just fine…it just couldn't be Sophie.
But even if he did want her, he wasn't going to have her. He wasn't going to cross that line.
He had to think of Sophie as a job. His only goal should be in getting her to safety.
So why couldn't he stop thinking about getting her back into bed?
Seven
They'd set up a bonfire on the beach, Jamie's friends sitting in beach chairs and on blankets, waiting for a special fireworks show that Cassie had arranged for Jamie's wake. Someone had handed out champagne glasses, which they really didn't need since they'd been drinking since sunset, and it was now past eleven.
"Mind if I share your blanket?" the tall, dark-haired man with the compelling blue eyes asked.
She'd been avoiding him since she'd first seen him in the house. He unnerved her with the way he looked at her, the way she felt herself looking back at him.
There was a part of her that screamed danger—send him away—but instead of saying no, she said yes. She moved over so he could sit down on the blanket next to her, her body tightening at his nearness. She felt all tingly inside, on edge, a little reckless—none of the emotions she should be feeling at a memorial wake.
This wasn't a date. She was supposed to be mourning her friend, not ogling a man, who seemed to be as alone as she was. But as the breeze blew off the lake, she could smell the musky scent of his cologne. She could almost feel his breath on her cheek. And his amazing blue gaze seemed to see right into her soul.
All of her senses were on fire. She twisted her fingers together, resisting the impulsive desire she had to touch him.
It had to be the champagne or the wine. She'd drunk too much.
But she didn't feel drunk. She just felt—needy, hungry, empty.
She turned her head and found him watching her, shimmering beams of desire in his eyes. She didn't know much about him except that his name was Damon, and he and Jamie had served in the Army together. He hadn't said much all evening. He'd just watched, listened, took everything in.
She supposed she'd done much the same. Except for Cassie, she didn't really know any of Jamie's other friends. He'd traveled a far different road from her in the past ten years, and while they'd kept in touch, they hadn't seen each other very often.
Realizing that Damon was staring back at her, she focused on the fire and took a long sip of the bubbly champagne. It tingled against her throat, and she wanted more of that feeling—anything that would take away the sadness of this night. Jamie had been like a brother to her, the one person who could make her laugh, tease her out of a bad mood, make her feel like she could make it, be whoever she wanted to be. She was going to miss him so much.
She drank her way quickly to the bottom of her glass.
"Maybe you should slow down," Damon said.
She gave him a defiant look. "Why? What are any of us waiting for? We put off doing things until later. We say maybe next year, there will be time, but there isn't always time."
"That's true enough," he said somberly, finishing off his own glass.
She leaned over and grabbed a half-opened bottle from another blanket and refilled their glasses. After her first sip, she said, "Jamie was good at living in the moment. I need to get better at that." She glanced over at him. "What about you?"
"I could improve."
She smiled, feeling rebellious and reckless, a bad but heady combination, especially considering the irresistible pull she was feeling to the man sitting next to her. "Want to work on it right now?"
"What did you have in mind?"
"A dance," she said, getting to her feet. She extended her hand, and after a moment's hesitation, he took it.
"No one else is dancing," he said, as he stood up.
"Then we'll be the first." She needed to move, and the music and the night were calling to her.
Everyone else faded away. She could hear chatter. She was vaguely aware of a few more people getting up to dance, but she couldn't seem to look away from Damon's mesmerizing gaze.
He pulled her against his hard, masculine chest, and she was happy to go into his embrace, her emotions changing from sadness into yearning, from anger to desire.
At some point, the music ended…but they couldn't let go of each other…
A horn blared in her ear. She didn't understand why there was a car in the cabin. But she wasn't in the cabin anymore, was she?
Blinking her eyes open, she sat up abruptly, realizing that while she'd been dreaming about Damon, the car had stopped, and Damon was not in the driver's seat. She was stunned by that revelation. Where the hell was he?
She'd told him to drive to New Haven, but this strip mall with a deli, yoga studio, real-estate office, Chinese restaurant, and a phone store wasn't at all familiar to her. Her heart began to beat faster as she searched for some sign of Damon.
Had Damon taken advantage of her unconsciousness to talk to the FBI—or someone else?
He'd told her to trust him, but what did she really know about him? He could have told someone she might be at the lake. He could have pretended to get rid of the shooter so that he could get closer to her. And she'd gone along with it. She'd even let him drive.
Anger ran through her at her own stupidity. She wanted to run away, but she couldn't drive anywhere, because he obviously had the keys.
She opened the car door and stepped out on the pavement. She could try to get a cab, but without a phone, that wouldn't be easy. While she was debating what to do, the door to the Chinese restaurant opened and Damon came out, holding a large, white paper bag in his hands.
A mix of relief and anger ran through her. "Why did you stop here?" she demanded. "And why didn't you wake me up and tell me where you were going?"
"Well, you woke up on the wrong side of the car," he drawled.
"Not funny, Damon."
"I stopped to get food, because I was hungry, and I thought you might be, too. I also wanted to get a phone that couldn't be traced to us." He tipped his head to the phone store. "And I didn't wake you up, because I didn't need you to take care of any of that. I thought you could use the rest. You were restless the last hour, mumbling random words in your sleep."
She felt heat sweep across her cheeks, as she remembered her last dream had been of their night together. "What did I say?"
"Nothing incriminating."
She supposed she should be grateful for that. "Where are we, Damon?"
"About twenty-five miles outside of New Haven. Want to tell me where we're going now?"
She glanced at her watch and couldn't believe it was a little past six. Where had the day gone? They'd left the lake sometime after ten, and, apparently, they'd spent eight hours driving through the mountains and across two states. Taking back roads might have prevented a tail, but it had also delayed them from getting to the next location before closing time. Staying off the highway and keeping to side streets would put New Haven at least an hour away.
"We can't go there until tomorrow," she said. "It won't be open by the time we get there."
"So, it's not a safe house?"
"No, it's not. We're going to need a place to stay the night."
"Agreed. First, we need to ditch this car, and I think this is a good spot."
"Here?" She looked around the parking lot in confusion. "Why is this good?"
"There are plenty of other cars around. There's an all-night liquor store over there, so the lot probably won't ever be completely empty, and the car won't stand out."
Damon was very good at situation analysis. "All right, but how are we going to get to New Haven?"
"We're going to worry about that tomorrow."
"What?" She didn't like that idea at all.
"We'll take a cab to a motel somewhere between here and there. We'll hunker down and stay out of sight until the morning. Then we'll look into getting another vehicle."
"You d
on't think the FBI has alerted every cab driver to our fugitive status?"
"Probably not in Connecticut," he said, placing the call.
She leaned against the car as he ordered the cab, feeling more clear-headed now that she was getting some fresh air. It also felt good to stand up after so many hours of sitting.
"Five minutes," Damon told her. Then he scrolled through his phone. "There's a group of motels about eight miles of here. There's a motel about two miles from here, but I think that's too close to this lot. Wait, I see four motels/hotels within a three-block radius about eight miles from here. That's a better spot for us. If anyone finds the car and tries to track us to a nearby motel, they'll have to figure out which one we're in."
"Your mind is a magical thing," she said. "Very clever."
"Not so much magical but well-trained," he said. "I'm trying to stay one step ahead."
"That would be an amazing feat, because I think we're about ten steps behind."
"We might not be if you'd share a little more information."
"It won't change anything."
"I'd like to be the judge of that."
"Well, you can't, so…"
"All right, let's not talk about it now. Get your bag. I want to move away from this car before the cab gets here."
She took her purse out of the car and made sure she hadn't left anything behind. Then she followed Damon across the length of the parking lot. They were close to the entrance when a taxi turned in to the lot, and Damon flagged him down.
Other than giving an address to the driver, they didn't speak on their way to the motel.
When they reached their destination, she paid for the trip in cash, and they waited for the taxi to pull away before walking two blocks away to a different motel.
It was a cheap, run-down-looking building with outside hallways facing the parking lot, and it didn't stir a lot of positive feelings within her.
"You want to stay here?" she asked, unable to stop herself from wrinkling her nose in disgust.
"Yes. It's the kind of place where people don't ask questions."
"It looks like the kind of place where they rent rooms by the hour."
"Maybe, but that’s not going to bother us." He handed her the bag of Chinese food. "Wait here while I check us in. I'm going to be less memorable than you."