When I Find You: A Trust No One Novel

by Brown, Dixie Lee

“Okay, we’ll go with squishy.” His voice vibrated with laughter. “Push it.”

  Darcy pressed the spot with her fingers then jumped back as a section of the wall in front of her cracked open and rolled back soundlessly. Everything beyond the first two steps leading down lay in inky blackness. Déjà vu again as her escape from the Fontana house three nights ago came back in vivid detail. “Does everyone have a secret passage these days?”

  Walker started down the stairs, pulling her gently to follow. A few seconds after she cleared the opening, the wall rolled back into place sealing them inside. Darcy pushed against the dread that threatened to panic her. She couldn’t shake the feeling she’d just been sealed inside a mausoleum.

  “Darcy, you’re cutting off the circulation in my hand.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t help it.” The alarm in her voice echoed and she wanted to strangle him when he laughed softly.

  “Hold on to the railing. There are eighteen steps. As soon as we reach the seventeenth step, the lights will come on.”

  As he said it, the lights flickered on and Darcy had to squeeze her eyes closed for a moment. When she was able to open them again, the first thing she saw was Walker’s face, watching her with a lopsided grin.

  “Maybe I should have warned you.”

  “You think?” Becoming aware of the death grip she still had on his hand, she let him go and murmured an apology, which only seemed to increase his amusement.

  A few steps beyond the staircase, they pressed through a narrow passage and the space opened into a surprisingly large room. Walker stepped aside and let her go first.

  “What is this place?”

  “You’ve heard of a panic room? This is the same idea, only you’ve got a few more conveniences. Bathroom over there, a bed, refrigerator, microwave, a big screen TV in case you get bored watching the monitors along the wall.” He motioned toward a bank of dark screens and then flipped a switch above them. They all came to life. Images of the front entry, the living room and kitchen, the deck, and the area surrounding the house and garage from every possible angle flashed in front of her.

  “There’s a closet with some women’s clothes. You might find something in there that fits. There’s also a stash of weapons down here. I’ll show you tomorrow.”

  “How did you know this was here?”

  “Joe thought it might be good information to have.”

  “Joe?”

  “He owns this place, and he’s also the guy who asked me to track you down.”

  “Is this where I’ll stay?” A shiver rippled through her. “It feels a little like . . . a tomb.”

  “We’ll stay upstairs. The only time I’ll ask you to stay down here is if I can’t be here with you. If you ever feel threatened in any way, or if you sense there’s something wrong, get down here and wait for me.”

  She whirled to look at him. “Are you going somewhere?”

  “I need to dump the car. If I leave soon, I can be back before dark.”

  “I’ll go with you.” The panic came back full force. “Please don’t leave me here by myself.”

  “Darcy, you’re exhausted. It’ll be safer for both of us if you stay here. I’ll find a secluded spot to leave the car and stop at the grocery store. I’ll be gone a couple of hours at the most. I’ll cook you something to eat when I get back. What sounds good?”

  The change of subject was meant to distract her. Obviously, he didn’t want to leave her here alone. Give the poor guy a break. Send him away at least thinking she was okay with being locked in this underground cell.

  “Surprise me.” She forced a smile.

  Before he left, he showed her the lever at the bottom of the stairs that activated the hidden door. He told her twice not to go upstairs until he got back, adding that if she did, for some reason beyond his realm of understanding, not to do so without first checking the monitors. Darcy interpreted his doting and obvious reluctance to leave as concern for her and it warmed her heart, even as the silent closing of the secret entry chilled her to the bone.

  Chapter Seven

  * * *

  WALKER HATED LEAVING her. As a result, he didn’t take the car as far away as he’d intended, leaving it in the parking lot of a bar like the one they’d found it in instead. He wiped it down for fingerprints, then hiked a half mile to a grocery store. The clerk bagged his steaks, fresh fruit and vegetables, eggs, bread, and milk. Then he started for the house on foot, cutting straight up the side of the hill to trim off a few minutes. An hour and twenty minutes after he’d left, he unlocked the front door.

  He deposited the groceries on the counter and went to let Darcy know he was back. She was sound asleep on the bed in the safe room and didn’t hear him enter or call her name. A soft moan escaped her when he covered her with a quilt. He stood still for a few minutes and studied her face, peaceful in sleep, tempted to wake her. Deciding against it, disappointment prickled at him as he climbed the stairs to the floor above.

  He put the groceries away, exchanging the steaks for a beer, and walked out on the deck. He leaned against the railing where the two of them had stood earlier and took a swig from the bottle. What the hell was he doing? The game plan was to find the girl, get her someplace safe, and let the marshals take it from there. That would have been the smart thing, but that was no longer a possibility and not just because he’d attacked and alienated Cooper. Walker hadn’t counted on her being so sweet and vulnerable. The fear in her eyes was more than he could handle, so what else could he do? Against every wise and rational argument, he’d appointed himself her protector. He’d gotten too close—lost his objective edge, and his emotions became more hyper-charged with each passing moment. For the first time in his life he felt on the verge of losing control.

  He checked on her twice more throughout the evening. A frown tightened his jaw as he watched her sleep. Maybe he didn’t know what the hell he was doing, but he was sure of one thing. She needed him, and he would be there for her until she didn’t.

  He fingered the switch on the bedside lamp and then left it on. If she woke, alone, in a strange place, he didn’t want her to be in the dark. For a moment he considered staying with her—lying down beside her so she wouldn’t be alone. Desire stirred within him, trashing all of his good intentions and, for just an instant, he thought about waking her. Then he swore softly and walked away.

  DARCY SLEPT THROUGH the night, waking a little after six . . . starving. It took her a moment to figure out where she was. Walker had left her alone last night to get rid of the stolen car. Did he come back? Why didn’t he wake her? A wave of panic rolled over her before her gaze landed on the bank of monitors against the wall. She rose, padded across the room, and flipped them on. Right away, she saw him in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. The domesticity of the scene brought a smile to her lips. He’d come back. Everything was all right.

  The closet Walker spoke of yielded clean clothes, most too big, but, with her own clothes destroyed in the explosion at the motel, she was desperate. She stood under the hot, pulsing shower until the room was shrouded in steam and mist. Then, having dawdled longer than she should have, she hurried to dress. The jeans she’d found were about three inches too long and in danger of slipping down until she located a belt. The long-sleeved white shirt she grabbed next fell halfway to her knees before she tied the shirttails loosely around her hips. With her sleeves rolled up, she turned up the hem of the jeans and found a pair of running shoes that fit amazingly well. With no patience to dry her long, wavy hair, she pulled it back in a loose ponytail, then looked at herself in the mirror.

  Her eyes weren’t as bloodshot this morning, nor were the circles beneath them as pronounced. She’d slept twelve hours or better. In fact, she’d slept sounder since she met Walker than she ever had. The nagging fear she’d lived with the last two days had relented momentarily. She smiled at herself, and her green eyes reflected her cheerful mood. An instant later, she silently scolded herself for being happy when her life, and t
he lives of those she cared about, lay in tatters.

  As soon as the secret entrance slid open, she heard the helicopter overhead and hurried her pace as her stomach clenched with anxiety. Walker stood on the deck, watching the aircraft land in a small clearing just south of the house.

  “Who is it?” She walked up behind him. The knot of fear in her stomach tightened and it must have shown on her face too.

  Walker took one look at her and edged alongside her. One hand stroked her arm. “It’s all right. They’re friends.”

  “Why are they here?”

  “Joe was worried after yesterday . . . with the deputy . . . and I think he wants to see for himself everything is okay. No need to worry.”

  The noise of the engine died and the whomp of the rotor blades slowed and finally stopped. Two figures, a man and a woman, jumped from the craft and started toward them. The man was tall and muscular, with dark hair and an easy smile.

  Walker stepped forward as the other man reached the deck. “It’s about time you got here. I was afraid you’d miss breakfast.” The two men shook hands, obviously comfortable with each other. Walker beckoned her closer. “Darcy Maddox, this is Joe Reynolds.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Darcy shook his hand. “I guess I owe you my life.”

  “Your picture doesn’t do you justice.” Joe smiled at her, then slanted a curious glance at Walker.

  Just then the woman bounded up the steps onto the deck and straight into Walker’s arms. He laughed and caught her, swinging her around, and set her down beside Joe. A twinge of jealousy stung Darcy and she retreated into silence.

  “Looking good, Cara.” Walker held her at arms’ length. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

  “Thanks. It’s good to see you. I’ve missed sparring with you.” Cara smiled warmly.

  “I’m glad to hear you haven’t given up your training.”

  “That’ll never happen. This baby will be born ready to defend herself.”

  “Herself?” Walker cocked an eyebrow.

  “If I have anything to say about it.” She moved closer to Joe and wrapped her arm around his waist.

  He glanced toward Darcy. “This is my wife.”

  “Hi. I’m Cara. I’ve been dying to meet you.” The woman clasped Darcy’s hand in a warm grip.

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Darcy returned her friendly smile.

  “I know these two want to talk shop, so how about if we go inside and see about some breakfast. I’m starving.” Cara started toward the door. Darcy hesitated and, when her gaze fell on Walker, he smiled reassuringly.

  “Breakfast is about ready, but you two can set the table.” He nodded toward the house.

  As she turned to follow Cara, the two men moved away in the direction of the helicopter. The pretty, blond woman squeezed her arm, her expression filled with compassion. “Are you okay? Is there anything you need?” She stood back and looked at Darcy. “Besides maybe some smaller clothes?”

  Darcy looked down self-consciously. “These will do until I get mine washed. It felt good just to have something clean to put on this morning.”

  “Joe thinks you may be here a few days. I’ve got some things in my bag that might fit you a little better, although they’ll probably still be too long. Not that you don’t look gorgeous just the way you are. No wonder Walker didn’t want to give you up to the deputy. He’s got an eye for a pretty face.”

  “Trust me—that’s not the reason. I don’t think he’s noticed me at all.” Darcy instantly regretted the words.

  Cara shot her a curious glance. “Oh? He can be quite intense when he has a job to do, but he’s got a huge heart. He’d never let anything happen to you. You couldn’t be in better hands.”

  “Yes, I know. I wouldn’t be alive right now if it wasn’t for him. I’m always safe when he’s around.” Darcy grimaced as the frustration in her words came through loud and clear.

  “I see.” Cara stared intently at her, a knowing grin slowly easing her concerned expression. “Should I assume safety wasn’t all you were going for?”

  Darcy shrugged, her face flushing with heat. She should have known another woman would see right through her. There was no use lying to her now. “You’ve only been here five minutes. Why are men so dense?”

  Cara smiled and worry again invaded her eyes. “Walker is fairly intuitive. I’m guessing he knows exactly how you feel and is trying, in his dense way, to keep you from being hurt. Are you sure . . . I mean . . . it’s been a pretty stressful time for you. It wouldn’t be unheard of to mistake gratitude for something else.”

  Darcy clenched her jaw tightly and choked down the quick and impolite response that flooded her tongue. It was true she didn’t have as much experience with men as most women her age, but she was a grown woman, and in spite of what everyone else seemed to think, she did know her own heart. It wasn’t only gratitude she felt for Walker, and that realization scared her to death. Cara was right about one thing, though. Walker could very well be trying to keep her from getting hurt. In spite of how she felt, she was just a job to him, and he’d go back to wherever he was from as soon as this was over. Thinking Walker could possibly return her feelings was where she’d made her mistake. Any interest he might have in her would be short-lived and superficial. She could see that much from the sympathy on Cara’s face.

  “You’re probably right.” She held herself stiffly. “I should concentrate on my problems right now.”

  Cara’s expression was dubious. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and pressed a button. “Joe, before you come back to the house, would you grab my bags from the chopper, please? . . . Darcy needs a few things . . . Thanks.”

  “Really, you don’t have to leave your clothes for me.” She seemed to evoke everyone’s nurturing instincts. Was it so obvious she couldn’t take care of herself?

  Cara dropped her cell phone back in her pocket. “Look, I didn’t mean to suggest your feelings aren’t the real deal or that you shouldn’t go after something you want. I just don’t want to see you get hurt. I’ve never thought of Walker as the settling-down type, but judging from the way he looks at you, I could be wrong and, actually, I hope I am. Either way, we’re going to be friends.” She smiled, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Believe it or not, I’ve been where you are now. Joe and Walker saved my life. Now, we’d like to help you . . . so, why don’t we set that table? They should be up here any minute.”

  Tears of self-doubt stung Darcy’s eyes and she turned away to hide them. She appreciated Cara’s candor, and it pretty much reinforced what Darcy already knew. Walker had a job to do and she was the job. She’d be crazy to expect anything over and above that.

  “THIS IS DELICIOUS, Walker.” Cara forked another mouthful of her omelet. “I didn’t realize you were such a good cook.”

  “Who do you think has been feeding me all these years?” A grin creased his face.

  “I don’t know . . . wolves maybe.”

  Everyone laughed as Walker cast a scathing glance at Cara. It was obvious these two were very close. Surely Cara would know if he was the settling-down type, and maybe she would know other things about him too.

  “Cara, do you know what Walker’s first name is?” Darcy ignored him as he turned toward her with an amused expression.

  Cara glanced between the two of them. “No. I guess I’d never thought about it before. Joe, do you know?”

  “You’re not getting me involved in this. If Walker wants you to know his name, he’ll tell you.”

  “I guess we’re being kept in the dark. I love a good mystery, don’t you?” Cara rubbed her hands together.

  “You’d think you two didn’t have anything more important to worry about.” Walker glanced at Cara then caught Darcy’s eye and winked.

  “We’ll decide what’s important and what’s not . . . Mr. Walker.” Darcy tried to hide her smile as she collected a stack of dirty dishes and walked toward the kitchen. She hadn’t helped cook so the least
she could do was clean up.

  Walker stopped her and took the plates from her hand. “Joe has something for you, and then I want Cara to help you pick a handgun before she leaves. She’s kind of our resident expert.”

  “Let me clean up first.” Darcy tried to take the dishes back.

  “Go—do as you’re told.” His tone was gruff, but the warmth in his eyes gave him away.

  Joe led her into the living room and handed her a cell phone and a business card. “This phone can’t be traced, so it’s safe to call anyone you want. My number is on the card, along with Cara’s. You can call either of us at any time if you have a problem, or if you just want to talk. I put Walker’s number on there too, and on the back . . . this number belongs to a couple young men who are dying to know their nanny is all right.”

  Darcy’s gaze darted to his. “Really?” Without thinking, she threw her arms around his neck.

  “Walker said that would make your day.”

  “Thank you. You have no idea what this means.”

  “Before you dial that number, go downstairs with Cara. She’ll show you where the vault is and help you pick a weapon.”

  Darcy shoved the phone and card in her pocket, trying hard not to show her impatience as she followed Cara.

  Cara apparently had no concept of time when it came to handguns, and she was a patient instructor. She took great care to fit the weapon to Darcy’s hand and make sure it would be a manageable weight and recoil. Darcy would have been confident she could handle either of the two guns Cara recommended if not for her left arm and shoulder, still swollen and painful from her collision with the log the day Grant tried to kill her.

  “Practice will make you more at ease with your weapon. You can do a little shooting on top of this hill, but too much will attract attention and you don’t want that. Walker will know what’s best.” Cara kept talking, probably to fill the empty spaces where Darcy remained quiet.

  Her natural instinct, when uncomfortable in a situation, was to retreat and blend into the woodwork. She’d learned a long time ago, calling attention to herself was dangerous—standing out in a crowd was asking for trouble. Nothing made her quite as anxious as guns . . . ironic for the daughter of a cop. Realizing her silence made Cara nervous, she turned to the other woman.