“Oh, look at that darling ladybug outfit,” Anne said, pausing at the shop next to the one we were headed to. “It would be so cute on Peter. It even has little antennae on a headband!”
I smiled to myself, opening the door to the chic boutique, and mentally trying to form an explanation to Theo of why his son was dressed as a ladybug. Little bells tinkled as I entered, the relative darkness of the shop making me stop while I took off my sunglasses.
At the counter directly ahead of me, along the right-hand wall of the shop, a man stood, holding up a piece of paper bearing a woman’s face for the clerk to examine.
My face.
“No, I can’t say I’ve ever seen her,” the clerk said.
My gaze met that of Armen, and for a moment, the world stopped. The look of surprise on his face must have matched my own, but I was faster. I spun around and was through the door before he moved.
I emerged into the blinding noon sunlight. To my right, Anne and Melanie stood with Peter still in his stroller, the two of them still window-shopping the baby store.
My feet moved of their own accord, turning left and racing down the sidewalk even as the bells jingled, and I heard Armen’s shout. I wove through the people who wandered down the sidewalk shopping on their lunch hour, dashing around first one corner, then another, my heart in my throat. I prayed that Armen hadn’t seen me with Peter just a few seconds before, and put all my faith in Anne and Melanie to keep him safe.
I risked a glance back when I spun around another corner. Armen had his phone to his ear as he ran, his face red with anger. I leaped across a crosswalk against the light, glancing off the back end of a car that sent me staggering to the side, but I was up on my feet and running before Armen gained so much as a yard on me.
Don’t panic, my brain chanted at me. Focus on your breathing. Remember how you used to run. Don’t waste your energy on anything that doesn’t carry you forward easily.
The muscle memory of years of high school and college track slowly warmed up, and I managed to steady my breathing, and lengthen my stride despite the people on the sidewalk. I wanted badly to circle back to make sure Peter was all right, but instinctively, I knew I had to lead my hunter away from him. I ran to the south, the number of pedestrians strolling on the sidewalks lessening, allowing me to get into my stride, my arms moving in a familiar rhythm as I focused only on running, on putting distance between myself and Armen. He might be a big ugly goon, but he didn’t have the stamina that had been trained into me.
I was just wondering how far south I could lead him before he gave up the chase, when a car squealed to a halt in front of me, right in the middle of an intersection. We were in front of a bank, and I had been about to make a right and head west for a bit, when Misha leaped out of the car and lunged for me, getting his hand on my shirt even as I shied back.
“You goddamn bitch,” he swore, his eyes narrow with rage, little flecks of spittle on his lips, as he threw me against the wall of the bank, the back of my head cracking against it with enough force to stun me for a second.
Panic flooded me, making me want to curl into a ball, which I always hoped would save me from the worst of the beating, but which never did. Instead, I tried to get to the door of the bank, but Misha had me in his grasp, twisting my T-shirt under my chin, almost strangling me. “Where is it? Where is flash?”
My brain tried to make sense of what he was saying. I was dimly aware of a couple of people passing by us, some of them making comments, but only one man stopped, concern and hesitation evident as he asked if there was a problem.
“Fuck off,” Misha snarled at him, and evidently one look at the furious face was enough for my would-be Samaritan. “Where is it?”
“Your flash?” I tried to claw his hands from the twisted wad of shirt that was closing my throat. “What flash?”
“USB flash stick. You stole from me. You stole flash.”
“I didn’t. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have a flash drive, any flash drive,” I protested, praying that someone in the bank saw us, and had called the police. At least Misha couldn’t kill me right there in public.
As if he read my thoughts, he dragged me across the street to the car, still holding me by the throat. I squawked and tried to fight him, but he simply dragged me, ignoring the comments of the people nearby. I knew if he got me in that car, I was dead. I would never see Peter again. I would never get to swim naked in Theo’s pool on his private island that he got so he could impress his brother.
I’d never get to marry Theo.
And suddenly, I knew that I wanted all of that. I wanted a life with Theo. I wanted to wake up to find him snoring in my hair, one leg thrown over me. I wanted to watch Peter grow up. I wanted to tease Theo mercilessly every time a woman made googly eyes at him. I wanted the life that I’d never thought I could have.
With a strangled snarl, I stopped trying to drag my feet, instead throwing myself onto Misha, taking him by surprise enough that he was off-balance for a few seconds. My purse strap tangled around his wrist, allowing me to slip out of it. It was just enough time for me to dash back across the street and race straight into the bank. A couple of employees stood pressed against the door, clearly watching us. Misha threw my purse into the car before he stalked forward, but just then Armen ran up, and the two men held a conference. Misha gave the bank a long, ugly look that I knew was meant for me; then he got into the car and pulled out to a squeal of oncoming vehicles’ brakes.
Armen placed himself opposite the bank, leaning against the wall of another business, obviously waiting for me to come out.
“Excuse me.” A woman’s polite voice rose a little so she could be heard over my harsh breathing. “Are you in trouble? Would you like us to call the police on your behalf?”
It was on the tip of my tongue to say yes, but I remembered in time that there was a warrant hanging over my head. Even without Misha’s dirty buddies, the police were not my friends.
“No, thank you. My fiancé will help me. I don’t suppose there’s another exit?”
She glanced out the door to where Armen was lounging. “There is, although we are not supposed to let customers use it. It leads to the trash area in the alley.”
“Please,” I said, letting her see the anguish in my eyes.
She made an abbreviated gesture, turning and shooing the couple of other employees back to their desks. “Very well, but do not tell anyone I did this. It’s very much against the rules. This way.”
My throat burned, and my legs felt like I’d run a hundred miles, but I pushed down the fear and horror and the mental images of what Misha would do to me if he caught me again.
The woman led me through a labyrinth of offices before opening a small door that had a number of signs warning about leaving it unlocked. “The alley,” she said, about to open it.
“Hang on, please,” I said, and eased the door open a crack. I couldn’t look to the right, but I had a good view of the alley that stretched away to the left. Sitting at the end of it, blocking the sight of passing traffic, was a car.
Misha was waiting for me. I was about to ease the door closed again, my heart turning to lead and falling to my stomach with the knowledge that I was trapped, when a parking police car pulled up behind Misha. As the woman got out, clearly about to have a word with him, he slammed his foot on the gas, the car jerking forward.
“Thanks so much,” I said hurriedly to the woman, and, after a moment’s thought, raced down the alley in the direction where Misha had been. He might go around the block and head for the opposite end of the alley, but with luck, I’d make it to the far end and be gone by the time he arrived.
I made it out of the alley without any problem, and ignored looks of people when I took off, heading to the west, toward the suburbs, feeling it would be easier to lose Misha there. As soon as I hit a row of houses, I ran into the first backyard that I could find, hiding between a fence and a shed, collapsing down onto the ground, dou
bled over with the need to get air into my lungs, and the desire to vomit.
I was safe for the moment, unless the homeowner had seen me trespassing, but even if I was safe on that front, I had to emerge at some point so I could tell Theo where I was.
I reached into my jeans for my phone, but the pockets were empty of all but a couple of New Zealand dollars. With horror, I realized I’d put my phone in my purse before going into the store ... and Misha now had my purse.
“Aspirin,” I whispered to myself, pulling my knees to my chest as I tried to calm my mind. “Valium. Codeine.”
In the end, I decided I’d give Misha an hour to drive around looking for me before I’d poke my nose out and try to find someone willing to let me use their phone. Then I’d call Theo, tell him the horrible tale, and let him spend the rest of the night trying to reassure me that he would protect me from the evil that was Misha.
The question was, did I have the right to ask him to do that if it meant putting himself at risk? The second Misha realized Theo was protecting me, he’d make it his business to find out everything there was to know about him. I’d seen him target the families of rivals before and knew he was ruthless when it came to getting what he wanted.
A USB flash drive? I shook my head over that, wondering why he thought I’d stolen something like that. I conducted a mental inventory of my belongings, and saw nothing that even remotely resembled a flash drive.
After what I deemed to be an hour, I crept out from my hidey-hole, watching both the house and the road, but no one shouted at me or confronted me. I started jogging down the road, hoping I looked like someone out for a little exercise, and not a desperate woman. I kept going north in the residential area until it turned commercial, pausing when I unexpectedly found a library.
“Hi,” I said to the receptionist. “I know this is probably really against the rules, but could I use your phone?”
“There is a pay phone in the lobby,” she said without looking up, nodding to the left.
“Oh. I didn’t realize those were still around. Uh ...” I felt in my pocket. “I don’t suppose you could break a dollar for me? It’s kind of an emergency.”
She sighed, clearly put out at being interrupted, but held out her hand. “We keep a pay phone for people who do not have mobile phones.”
“Thank you,” I said meekly, and, after a quick look outside to make sure Misha wasn’t lurking, went to the pay phone, the coins clutched in my hand.
It was then I realized I hadn’t memorized Theo’s cell number.
I banged my head on the phone booth wall for a moment, before I remembered his office. He was at his new office, and I was certain that it had phones. It took ten minutes for me to get the phone number, but at last I dialed it, doing a little dance of impatience. “Papaioannou International,” a cool female voice greeted me.
“Hi, my name is Kiera Taylor—”
“We are out of the office at the moment. If you know the extension you want, you may dial it now. Otherwise, leave a message and we will get back to you at the earliest possible time.”
I wanted to cry. I just wanted to sit right down and cry. Theo wasn’t there? I looked at the clock on the wall above the librarian’s desk. It was only a little after one. Maybe he was off at his lunch meeting? He had to go back to his office before long. Especially if Anne called him to tell him I’d gone crazy and ran off without a word to them.
“I’m going to have to go out,” I told the phone, and hung it up.
The next hour was hellish, the sound of every car that stopped quickly making adrenaline rush through me. I felt itchy all over, as if a thousand eyes were on me. I tried to keep to streets with lots of pedestrians, figuring the more people around me, the better. Misha was sure to think I’d go for the less traveled streets, so it made sense to go to the most populous area. Fortunately, the address I’d memorized from the phone inquiry was located smack-dab in the business section of town.
“Thank God,” I breathed when I saw the building rise up before me. I hesitated, but there was no sign of Misha. I joined a couple of other people in business suits who entered the building, trying to smooth down the wrinkled wad of T-shirt where Misha had throttled me, slapping a smile on my face as I approached the building’s reception desk.
“Hello. Can you tell me what floor Papaioannou International is on?” I asked a receptionist.
The woman tapped on a keyboard with elegantly manicured nails. “That would be the seventh floor. May I have your name?”
“Oh, you have to call them?”
She nodded, her hand poised over the phone.
“Sure. My name is Kiera Taylor. Theodor Papaioannou is my fiancé.”
“How lovely for you.” Her gaze raked over my sweaty, filthy, rumpled self. “They do not answer. Ah, I see here a note that the phone system is in place, but the physical phones haven’t yet been hooked up. A Ms. Annemarie Chanter has left a note stating that they hope to have the phones installed tomorrow. I will send up a message instead.”
“Thank you.” I stood at the desk, feeling all shades of out of place. Around me, men and women with well-cut suits and business attire passed through security, showing their badges and walking through a weapon detector. One or two of them glanced my way, but I knew for most of them I was invisible.
“I have sent a message,” the receptionist announced. She didn’t look any too pleased to have me there, but gestured toward a bank of white leather benches. “You may wait over there if you like.”
“Thank you.” I didn’t like being so exposed, and hesitated before asking, “I don’t suppose you could just ... you know ... let me through so I could go up to my fiancé’s office?”
She pursed her lips again and tapped on the keyboard, making hope rise within me. “Your name again?”
“Kiera Taylor.”
“I’m afraid you are not on the list of employees of Papaioannou International,” she said, nodding toward the couch.
“Thank you,” I said tiredly.
I waited a total of five hours, my unease driving me to visit the bathroom frequently enough that the lady at the desk must have thought I had a bladder infection. I used the time there to wash my face and hands, and try to get the worst of the dirt and wrinkles out of my shirt. My hair was a tangled mess, pulled back in a ponytail, in no way contributing to the image of me as worthy of being in such a fancy office building, let alone affianced to a man as gorgeous as Theo.
After the fifth hour, I gave up. Clearly either Theo had had a change of plans or Anne had gotten through to him, and he must be out trying to find me.
“What’s it going to be?” I asked myself. “Marina to hire a boat that you don’t have the money to pay for—and probably run smack-dab into Misha or Armen, because they’re smart enough to watch the ways to get out of Auckland—or tackle this tomorrow?”
My heart broke at the realization that the following day was supposed to be my wedding day. With no other options, I hurried through the dusk toward a residential street I’d seen coming in. I’d simply have to find a spot to sleep outside, perhaps hidden by another shed. Luckily, the weather wasn’t dangerously cold at night, although I knew it would be chilly.
It took another hour before I located a house that had no lights on and possessed a shed in the backyard. I had to skulk around the fence, figuring I’d have to climb it, but the gate was open. I slipped through it, being as quiet as possible so as to not arouse anyone in the house, or neighbors, and went to investigate the shed. It was filled with lawn equipment, a couple of rusty bikes, a few plastic bins with labels that indicated they were household miscellany, and, blessedly, a ratty sweater hanging over a gardening apron.
I curled up next to the bikes, donning the sweater, and using the apron as an abbreviated blanket.
“You could be in Theo’s arms right now,” I told myself. I was angry, both at myself and at Misha. He’d ruined every moment of my life when he was in it, and now he was doing the same when he
was no longer a part of it. I spent a bit of time worrying about Theo, knowing he would be concerned for me, and then the truly hellish thought hit me that he might try to find Misha to accost him.
I dozed off about midnight to my best estimation, ignoring the rustling sounds around and behind me. Rodents were the least of my worries, and New Zealand, unlike Australia, had no venomous snakes or insects other than a couple of very rare spiders, so I didn’t fear for my safety in that regard.
By what I guessed was two a.m., I couldn’t stand it. I had to be moving, had to do something to get in contact with Theo. Maybe I could steal a boat and sail it to his island? I shook my head even as I loped down the deserted streets, heading for the marina. “Even if I wanted to, I don’t know where the island is. I’ll just have to find someone there and convince them to take me out.”
The only areas of town that had traffic on the street were those that catered to nightclubs. I kept to the shadows as much as possible, pausing at every intersection to look for Misha or Armen. I was painfully aware that I was dehydrated, and that my stomach growled despite the frequent waves of nausea that hit me whenever I thought of Theo confronting Misha, but I pushed onward toward the marina. When I was a few blocks away, I slowed down, using vehicles, buildings, and whatever structures I could to pause and examine the entrance of the marina, looking for signs of Misha lying in wait.
And that’s how the police found me—lurking behind a car, peering around it at the lighted marina entrance.
“All right, then,” a man’s voice said behind me, startling me into a panicked shriek. “On your feet. Put your hands on the fence behind you, please.”
I spun around to find two policemen, one of whom held a notebook while the other was speaking softly into a shoulder radio. “Um. Hi.”
“Hands on the fence, please,” he repeated, gesturing toward the wooden fence behind me. I did as he said, wondering how long it would be before Misha’s police buddy told him that I’d been taken in.
The cop with the notebook patted me down in an impersonal, professional manner.
Papaioannou 01 - Ever Fallen in Love Page 13