Runaway Lies

by Shannon Curtis

  ‘Are you all right, Miss McKenzie?’

  She whirled around and sucked in a pained breath as she clutched her bandaged arm.

  Alex grimaced. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Alex Knight, Dominic St James’s security advisor.’

  Her frown didn’t waver. ‘Uh huh.’

  Not exactly…friendly.

  ‘Oh, there you are, Ms McKenzie. Your room is just down the hall,’ a nurse said, smiling as she approached.

  Darcy McKenzie’s frown deepened with her confusion. ‘Sorry? My what?’

  ‘Your room,’ the nurse said, taking her uninjured arm and guiding her down the hall. The woman held up a miniature plastic cup. ‘We have some pain medication for your arm, but you really should be resting.’

  ‘I, uh, I was going to leave.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so. We want to do some scans on your shoulder tomorrow, just to make sure everything is in its proper place, and to see how that swelling is going.’

  Alex allowed the nurse time to get Darcy settled in her room before entering, all the while listening to her protests as she took her medicine and tried to argue her case for early departure.

  ‘Oh, you needn’t worry about anything, sweetie. Everything has already been taken care of by Mr St James. All you need to do is lie back and relax.’

  The nurse turned on the television and turned the volume to low before giving the remote to her patient. She smiled and nodded at Alex as she left.

  Darcy’s head dropped back on her pillow, and she rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t need this,’ she said, gesturing to the room.

  ‘You’re hurt. You need to rest,’ Alex told her, coming further inside.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  Alex nodded. ‘Okay. You’re fine. Oh, by the way, I have your keys. One of the police officers drove your van back here.’ He held up the key ring. It had a religious medal on it that he didn’t recognise.

  Darcy sighed with relief, and her lips lifted in a small smile. ‘Thank you. I’d completely forgotten the van was back at the river. I appreciate you bringing it here.’

  Alex extended the keys, then paused. ‘Oh, wait. You can’t drive.’ He indicated to her arm. ‘You won’t be able to work the gears.’

  Her gaze dropped down to her arm, and her mouth opened in surprise. ‘Oh, crap. I hadn’t thought about that. Damn.’ She blinked slowly, and Alex realised the pain medication was beginning to kick in.

  ‘Do you need to be somewhere? Is that why you want to leave? Are you late for something? Is someone waiting for you?’

  She rubbed her eyes and blinked some more. ‘No. Nobody is waiting for me.’ She yawned.

  ‘So take a few days – rest.’

  Her eyelids rose as she looked up at the television above the bed. She frowned. ‘Oh, no.’

  Alex glanced up. The evening news was on, and the images on screen were of Ava St James’s car being pulled from the river. An old photo of Dominic with Jonah, Julia and Ava, all on a family skiing vacation, popped up, along with a blurred photo of a drenched, mud-encrusted Darcy McKenzie being helped up the river embankment. Someone had taken some photos with their mobile phone.

  ‘No, no, no,’ Darcy wailed, and she pushed the blankets back. ‘This is exactly what I didn’t want.’

  She tried to lever herself up off the bed, but shook a little. Alex touched her good shoulder, steadying her before she collapsed back against the pillows.

  ‘You’re a hero. Of course people are going to want to talk about you,’ he told her as her eyelids drooped.

  ‘No, you don’t understand,’ she whispered. She struggled to open her eyes, and he noticed they looked red and sore. Had she been crying? Maybe the irritation was from the river water. ‘I don’t want it to become a big deal. I just want to go away. I’m no hero.’ A tear rolled down her cheek as her glazed eyes finally drifted shut.

  Alex leaned closer to hear her drowsy whisper as she succumbed to the pain medication.

  ‘Far from it.’

  He frowned, glancing between the screen and the woman lying on the bed.

  Mark Shein looked up from the cigar he was selecting when he heard the news report.

  ‘Dominic St James, huh?’ He smirked at his companion. He switched the channel on the large plasma TV to a game of American football just as some bedraggled, mud-covered woman was helped out of a mangrove by police rescue. He sighed and sat back. He liked the strategy of the game. Not as good as NRL, or AFL, but still enjoyable.

  Bob Michaels didn’t remove his gaze from the tip of the cigar he was snipping. ‘He’s luckier than a blind man in a brothel with a fistful of fifties, that one. Heard about it earlier. Wife’s car drove into a river.’ The man puffed on his cigar as he lit it, before snapping his gold-plated lighter closed, extinguishing the light. ‘Damn women drivers.’

  Mark snorted as he clipped his own cigar, drew it to his mouth and lit it. Feminine laughter trilled from the dining room across the hall, but he didn’t bother to turn around. Liz could finally find something to laugh about, thank Christ. She’d turned into a sourpuss since the charges were laid.

  ‘Sounds like your wife is having some fun.’

  Mark nodded. ‘She deserves it. Hell, I deserve it.’ Maybe now she’d lighten up, do more in the sack than just lie there and spit venom at him if he so much as looked at her.

  ‘Must be pretty stressful, huh? When’s the court date?’

  ‘Eight weeks.’ He didn’t want to talk about it.

  ‘Have they found your secretary, yet?’

  That bitch. ‘No.’ He blew a mouthful of rank cigar smoke into the air and watched it curl and twist back on itself, much like his gut did whenever he thought of his traitorous assistant. Darcy Montgomery was the reason he was in this stupid, miserable, screwed-up position. She was the reason why his passport was confiscated, his assets frozen, and his wife – well, he couldn’t really blame her for that. His wife had been a bitch before Darcy did what she did.

  He inhaled, sucking in the noxious fumes his wife so hated. She had a lot to answer for, young Darcy. He’d been strip-searched, incarcerated, and bailed out. Humiliated. Some of his so-called friends had distanced themselves when the case hit the media, no matter how many times he denied the charges. All except Bob. He eyed the man sitting opposite him. Bob Michaels was probably the closest thing Mark Shein had to a friend, although even Mark wouldn’t call him that – more like a strategic alliance.

  Bob sat back in the leather armchair and crossed his left ankle over his right knee as he met Mark’s gaze. ‘You’re going to have to do something about her.’

  Mark tried not to grimace. No kidding. But the last time he’d tried to ‘do something’ about her, it had been disastrous. He’d thank God, if he thought there was such a thing, that nobody knew about those efforts. ‘I know.’ Time was running out. Just on two months.

  Bob slid a hand into his pocket and withdrew a white business card. ‘Call this guy. He can help.’

  Mark reached out and accepted the card. He turned it over in his fingers. It was printed on expensive stock. It bore one name, and a phone number. Kowalski. ‘How can this guy help?’

  Bob smirked. ‘Let’s just say he’s like a magician. He can find the missing, or,’ he waved his hand, an almost graceful roll of the wrist, ‘he can make your problems disappear.’

  Mark raised his eyes to Bob and took a moment to digest the information, the gesture. ‘Why are you doing this?’ It was his experience that no good deed went unpaid, and after what he’d done to Bob, he was surprised the man was still talking to him, let alone wanting to help.

  Bob shrugged. ‘Let’s just call it a favour between friends,’ he said, briefly showing his teeth. ‘We both have too much to lose. Taking care of your problem will go a long way to taking care of my problem.’

  Mark hesitated. They weren’t friends, and they both knew it. No, this meant that Bob would call in this favour one day, and Mark would have to pay. And if he kne
w Bob, he’d pay dearly.

  His eyes narrowed, then he pocketed the card and nodded, a brief incline of the head as acknowledgement for the play. He was an outcome-focused man. He’d take care of Darcy Montgomery first. Then he’d deal with Bob Michaels.

  Darcy startled awake. Run. Leave. Get the hell out, her mind screamed at her and she sat up, moaning as the movement sparked a slice of pain through her aching shoulder. She looked around, confused for a moment.

  A hospital room. Memories returned. Water. The car. The kids. Her dislocated shoulder. The smiling nurse with a pill that packed a helluva punch. Oh, yeah, and my face on TV.

  She really did need to leave.

  She glanced around the room. It was so quiet. Birds chirped outside her window, and a car drove away in the distance, but that was about it. She’d slept so soundly. No nightmares. It was almost worth being drugged unconscious, just for that blessed rest. And she’d needed the rest – before she faced the day. Faced that man.

  Dominic St James. Just the thought of the man had her pulse accelerating, just a little, with a tiny twist in her gut, the memory of his intense blue gaze making her feel generally unsettled. She knew other businessmen, wealthy men and captains of industry, but last night Dominic St James had looked…fierce. Protective of his kids. Completely in control. She’d met others like him, yet not quite. He seemed quite different to her usual experience with suit-wearing, corporate, narcissistic dynamos. She’d seen the various articles and news stories over time – you’d have to be a recluse not to. All the parachuting, mountain climbing, around-the-world sailing and jungle trekking had apparently done the man good – he was fit. But she wasn’t going to drool. Nope.

  She wondered briefly how his wife had managed to live with such a powerful identity, if only for a while. Thoughts of his missing ex-wife abruptly cooled any inclination Darcy had to drool. That poor woman. Darcy couldn’t imagine what it would be like to drown. Didn’t want to know. Her thoughts turned to the children. Poor Jonah and Julia. They were going to need their dad. She hoped their loss would bring them closer together. They’d need to share their strength, now. She knew that from personal experience.

  She noticed her duffel bag on the chair by her bed, her car keys on top with the St Florian medal. Oh, good – she could change, and maybe try some new contacts, although she was reluctant to put anything into her eyes at the moment. She’d have to give them a break from contacts once she was out of the hospital, and away from staff who might ask questions – and the cops who might get curious. She wished she knew what had happened to the clothes she’d worn the day before. She packed light, and couldn’t really afford to lose many outfits. She glanced out the window. Sunlight bathed the parking lot and surrounding grounds with golden light. She had no idea of the time, but she clearly remembered seeing her face on the news. What if Mark had seen it? Or someone who knew her?

  She had to leave. Screw the clothes.

  Gritting her teeth, she slipped the sling over her neck, and carefully, slowly, got dressed.

  Fifteen minutes later, she was drenched with sweat and quivering. Damn, her shoulder hurt. She’d struggled to insert her contacts, and had discovered doing it one-handed was like tap dancing on one leg – bloody difficult. She’d finally managed, but had given up when she’d tried to don her bra. Not happening; she could barely manage a T-shirt and yoga pants. She sank down onto the bed and stared at her feet. She’d slid her feet into her sneakers, but the laces were beyond her present abilities.

  The door opened, and the same nurse who had given her the sweet dreams medicine the night before stepped in with a breakfast tray. ‘Oh, hey, missie, what are you doing out of bed?’ She put the tray on the wheeled bedside table.

  ‘I need to go,’ Darcy said, her tone clipped. And this time, she wouldn’t get sucked in by a sweet smile and a horse tranquiliser.

  ‘Oh, but we need to do more tests—’

  ‘No more tests.’ The cops hadn’t looked twice at her identity, but questions could be asked about her lack of a Medicare card, questions she couldn’t – wouldn’t – answer. ‘I’m checking myself out.’

  ‘Oh, but I think Mr St James was expecting you to—’

  ‘I don’t answer to Mr St James.’

  ‘No, you don’t.’ The deep voice from the doorway brought Darcy’s head up. Whoa. She sucked in a breath. This morning he’d dispensed with the suit and was wearing a navy polo shirt and faded jeans. He looked…whoa. All those magazines, all those photo shoots, she didn’t think she’d seen him look half so casual – or so sexy.

  ‘Are you sure you really want to go?’ His voice was warm with concern. ‘You need rest.’ He gestured to her shoulder, his bicep bunching with the movement. For a businessman, he was built like a sports model. Okay, maybe not a sports model. More like a rugby player. Only without the cauliflower ears and squashed nose. ‘Should you be leaving when you’re injured?’

  No, I’m crazy. I should stay here. With you. ‘Er, yes. I really should be going.’

  ‘Are you worried about losing pay, or keeping a job? I’m sure we can work something out.’

  ‘No!’ Oh, dear, she hadn’t meant to bark at him. But she really didn’t need anyone poking around in her life. ‘I mean, thanks, but it’s not necessary. I’m between jobs at the moment.’ At least that wasn’t a lie.

  He frowned. ‘So why not take a few days to recuperate?’

  She couldn’t blame him for looking at her as though she was a nutcase. To him, she didn’t make sense. How could she make the incomprehensible seem rational? Who wouldn’t want to rest up in hospital and receive medical treatment for an injury that was beginning to throb like the sound system at a heavy metal concert? But staying might lead to more questions.

  ‘I hate hospitals,’ she blurted. She looked at the nurse, who was watching the exchange with great curiosity. ‘Sorry, no offence.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, I see that a lot.’ The woman smiled, and nodded at Dominic. He cocked an eyebrow, and the woman seemed to remember other duties and hurriedly excused herself.

  ‘I really hate hospitals,’ Darcy continued, warming to her role. ‘They make my skin crawl. I can’t sleep here, can’t rest.’ Unless I’m slipped a sedative strong enough to knock out an elephant. Although she hated the thought of being unconscious and vulnerable, she knew that sleeping with the pain in her shoulder and arm would have been nearly impossible without the medication.

  He nodded slowly. ‘I see.’

  Darcy brightened. ‘But enough about me. How are Julia and Jonah doing?’ The question wasn’t so much a diversion as it was a genuine interest in the welfare of the children.

  He smiled. ‘They’re doing just fine. We’ll be leaving tomorrow morning.’

  He looked so relieved, so…relaxed. It gave him an intriguing new dimension. She would love to see him laugh, see him at play. Okay, maybe see him naked.

  He walked over to the bed and sat on the end. Oh, goodness, she was sitting mere inches from the Dominic St James. She gave herself a mental shake. Get over it.

  He gestured to her shoes. ‘Need help?’

  ‘Uh, yeah, thanks.’ She watched as his dark head bent over her feet and his long fingers tied up her shoelaces. She was having a Cinderella moment with Dominic St James. The thought brought a smile to her lips. Wait until she told… Her smile faltered. Well, she couldn’t tell anyone, could she?

  He looked up at her, and his brow puckered before he blinked. She noticed how very long his dark lashes were. Damn. The man had money, fame, looks – and long eyelashes. She had to apply a truckload of mascara to get anywhere near that effect.

  ‘So, you’re between jobs, huh? Alex tells me that you’re not expected anywhere soon. What about your family?’

  A wave of panic bubbled up inside her, and Darcy rose from the bed. ‘Uh, I have no family.’ Not anyone he needed to know about, anyway. She wandered over to the window and looked down into the parking lot. She gasped.

  A num
ber of news vans had parked in the area, as well as a lot of other cars, and a large group of people were gathered around the front doors of the hospital. Reporters.

  She took a hasty step back. Oh, dear. This was getting worse. ‘There’s so much media out there.’

  Dominic shrugged. ‘Well, unfortunately anything to do with me or my family is news.’

  Crap. This was exactly what she was afraid of – a media circus.

  Dominic shifted on the bed. ‘Look, I’d really like to help you. Is there anyone we could call for you? Anywhere we can get you to?’

  She thought of her father back home, and blinked back tears. She’d give anything to go back home and ask her father for forgiveness. But she couldn’t. Not now. Not yet. It felt like a large rock had lodged in her throat, and she swallowed. ‘Uh, no, but thanks.’

  ‘Darcy, you saved my kids. Please, let me do something for you. Do you need a place to live? Transport?’

  She frowned and finally looked over at him. Did he just offer her a house? Seriously? ‘You don’t need to do that.’ She didn’t deserve anything like that. She didn’t deserve any kind of reward.

  ‘I want to.’

  She shook her head. ‘No. I didn’t jump into that river hoping for a new house or a new car. I didn’t know who was in the car, or who they were related to, and quite frankly, I don’t care. Anyone else would have done the same thing.’ She had many more good deeds to perform to make up for what she’d done.

  Dominic stood and took a step towards her. He just took up too much room, damn it. His presence seemed to be all-encompassing. ‘You said that last night, but I don’t agree. I think what you did was remarkable. You’re a very brave woman.’

  She snorted. Yeah, and that’s why I’m on the run. ‘I’m not brave, and I’m not trying to be modest.’ God, if only he knew the real facts about her. He wouldn’t be wanting to give her stuff. ‘Look, I’m really happy to hear that Jonah and Julia are doing well. Really. Why don’t we just leave it at that?’

  The lines at the corners of his eyes deepened, just a little, as he stared at her. She realised he was assessing her, and she kept her expression neutral. He sighed after a moment, and smiled.