When I Find You: A Trust No One Novel

by Brown, Dixie Lee

  “I knew something was wrong,” Joe said. “Somebody knows something they’re not telling me, and I’m going to find out what it is. I’ll get back to you.”

  Darcy seemed calmer after he got off the phone. Obviously, whatever Johnny told her introduced doubt into the equation, and her gaze followed Walker wherever he moved. She was no longer sure whose side he was on. It was like the last two days hadn’t happened, and they were standing on the edge of that swollen river again. She was still in danger and still needed him, whether she wanted to accept his help or not, and he was furious with Johnny Fontana for putting her in danger and then driving this wedge between them. The bastard just made it harder for him to do his job. He wanted to hold her and convince her nothing was different between them, however crazy the situation looked at the moment, but she had to come to that conclusion on her own.

  He opted for a return to normalcy until he could figure out what was going on. “Our dinner is getting cold.” He gestured to the plate of steaks he’d carried in from the deck. “Are you hungry?”

  “Not really—but I could use some more wine.”

  Walker picked up her half-full glass and handed it to her before retrieving the steaks and sitting down at the table. He dished up his plate and started to eat as though nothing was wrong, all the time watching her from the corner of his eye. He couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t bolt given the opportunity and, as much as he wanted her to trust him, he couldn’t allow that to happen. He relaxed a little when she sat down at the table. When she started to talk, he drew a relieved breath.

  “What’s going on, Walker?”

  “I don’t know, but we’re going to find out. You just have to trust me for a little while longer.”

  She studied him thoughtfully, as though deciding if that was possible now. After a minute, she sighed and some of the tension left her face.

  “Do you want to tell me what he said?”

  “He said Reggie Allen and the Justice Department staged the scene at his house so he could disappear, hoping Frank DeLuca would think he was dead. According to Johnny, Reggie wasn’t trying to kill me when he came upstairs that night. He trusts Reggie . . . but apparently he doesn’t trust you.” She met Walker’s gaze. “He said you were using me to get to him.”

  Walker raised an eyebrow. “And you believe him?”

  “I . . . I was just so shocked to hear his voice.”

  “What else did he say?”

  “He said I had to get away from you—that he couldn’t protect me if I stayed here.” She glanced at him then dropped her gaze and fumbled with her silverware. After spooning a small amount of salad on her plate, she eyed the hunk of meat that was left and wrinkled her nose. Walker reached out with his knife and fork, cut off a quarter of the steak and moved it onto her plate. She scowled at him like a small child, and he hid a smile.

  “I won’t hurt you, Darcy. I think you know that. Johnny’s resurrection is as much a surprise to me as it is to you. By calling you and lying about me, he made it harder for me to keep you alive, and I’m not very happy about that. I’ve got a few questions for him myself. Don’t suppose he’s dropping by anytime soon?” Walker forked up his last bite of steak and pushed his empty plate away.

  “He wants me to get on a bus and head south. He said he’d find me.” Darcy toyed with the bits of salad left on her plate and didn’t look at him.

  “Is that what you want to do?”

  “Would you let me?” She dropped her fork and sat back.

  Walker thought about that for a moment, then decided as long as she was being honest, he could do nothing less. “I’d rather not. I’ve gotten kind of used to having you around . . . but if you want to go, I won’t stop you, as long as I’m convinced he’s not going to hurt you.”

  “What would you do if you were me?”

  “First, I’d ask myself some hard questions. Like—what reason did he have to disappear? Why did he leave the nanny out in the cold, running for her life? Where was he when good old Grant was trying to kill you? Is it possible he ordered the hit? Does he want you to join him now so you can live happily-ever-after with the Fontanas in hiding . . . or is he cleaning up loose ends?” He held her gaze and watched her face pale.

  “He wouldn’t . . .”

  “Then you need to ask yourself if I’ve done anything to hurt you since you met me. My answer hasn’t changed. If I were you, I’d find someone I could trust and stick with him. That was me earlier today. Only you can decide if that’s changed.” He leaned back and waited for her answer—one that didn’t come.

  Being the paranoid bastard he was, he’d given her a lot to think about. He was pleased she hadn’t rushed right in to defend Johnny, but then neither had she hurried to assure Walker she still trusted him. When she finished eating, she carried their dirty dishes to the sink, rinsed them, and put them in the dishwasher while he relaxed and nursed his wine, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He hadn’t offered to help because he sensed she needed to keep busy and somehow it seemed unethical to get too close to her until she’d made her decision.

  When everything was cleaned and put away, she brought the wine bottle back to the table and filled Walker’s glass and then her own.

  He raised an eyebrow. “How is it three swallows of Scotch make you drunk, but a half bottle of wine doesn’t affect you at all?”

  “I wouldn’t say it hasn’t affected me.” A wistful smile teased him as she approached. He watched her advance with interest until she stood in front of him, so close he had to look directly up to see her face. She leaned over, rested her hands on his shoulders, and kissed him long and deliberately. The taste of red wine on her tongue went to his head as liquid fire surged through his veins and a throbbing in his lower region brought attention to the fact his jeans were suddenly too tight. Did she know what she was doing to him? He wanted to pull her down onto his lap and let nature take its course but refrained with great effort. Damn his tortured ethics anyway. When she straightened and looked into his eyes with a blatant invitation, he had to concentrate to keep his hands to himself.

  “I trust you, Walker. I know you wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. Why would Johnny say that, though? He must have a reason, and I’d like to know what it is. If I caught that bus, I could find out, and I could see Nick and Eddy . . . make sure they’re all right.”

  Walker realized he was frowning when she dropped a gentle kiss on his forehead.

  “I’m not saying I’ve made up my mind to go, but you have to let me make this decision.” Again her eyes asked for his understanding.

  “I know . . . but I don’t have to like it.” If she decided to go, she damn sure wouldn’t be going alone.

  WALKER MADE A sweep of the grounds, checked all the doors and windows, and set the alarm. Then he walked Darcy to one of the bedrooms on the second floor and swung the door open for her.

  “I’m right next door if you need anything.”

  “Walker, if Reggie didn’t send Grant, who did?”

  “I’ve been trying to figure that out. If Reggie was the only one besides Johnny and his wife who knew you were in the house, there was no reason to put a hit on you. Obviously, someone thought it was necessary, and that makes me wonder if Reggie isn’t playing both sides. The other explanation—DeLuca suspected he was being double-crossed and had Reggie followed. In any case, I’m not trusting anyone until we have a better idea what’s going on, and that includes Johnny.”

  She frowned but wisely refrained from arguing her employer’s innocence. Walker wasn’t buying it.

  “Get some sleep, Darcy. Maybe Joe will have some answers for us in the morning. I set the security alarm, so don’t get up in the middle of the night and open any windows or go out on the deck.” He put his hand on her arm and she half-turned to look at him. “This is important—if the alarm goes off, go downstairs to the safe room and don’t come out until I come to get you—not even if Johnny Fontana shows up on the monitors. Understand?”


  “Why are you so sure he means to harm me?”

  “He told you I was going to hurt you. One of us is lying and I happen to know it’s not me. I’ll probably be sorry I asked, but which one of us do you believe?”

  “Maybe he’s misjudged you. That doesn’t make him a bad man.”

  “You’re right, but it does mean he has to explain himself before he gets close to you. Does that sound fair?”

  “Promise me you won’t hurt him.”

  “I won’t hurt him . . . unless he’s got it coming. Now, promise me you’ll go to the safe room if you hear anything.”

  “I promise.” She smiled, although it was a mere shadow of her former radiance. Johnny would pay for that too.

  Walker gave her a little shove through the door and left her there, before he changed his mind about leaving her at all.

  Chapter Ten

  * * *

  JOHNNY WAS ALIVE. That was a good thing, but suddenly the fact that someone was trying to kill her no longer made any sense. They’d been operating under the assumption Reggie wanted her dead because she knew he was in the house the night Johnny disappeared. If Johnny was alive and well, why would anyone be trying to kill her? Yet Grant had tried to kill her—she didn’t imagine that—and Walker had rescued her . . . from Grant . . . from the river. Didn’t he? It was true she hadn’t seen Grant’s body. A shiver snaked through her. Just like she hadn’t seen Johnny’s body and Johnny was still alive. Was it possible Grant wasn’t dead either, and it was all an elaborate deception so Walker could gain her trust?

  She couldn’t think of any reason he would do that, except the reason Johnny gave her. If Johnny was right and Walker was using her to find him, it would make it easier for him if she followed blindly along, trusting, cooperating, until she led him right where he wanted to go.

  Darcy turned over, kicking at the covers in frustration. She didn’t want to believe Walker was the enemy—that he would kill Johnny if he got a chance and probably her too. She liked him. In fact, her feelings for him grew stronger and more troubling with each passing hour. He made her feel safe and cared for, and he made her feel like a woman, but what did she really know about the man? He was thirty-three and had a father somewhere he hadn’t seen since he was sixteen. Other than that, he hadn’t given away much of himself. He wouldn’t even divulge his first name.

  She was never going to get to sleep. Angrily, she pummeled her pillow before throwing the covers back and sliding her feet to the floor. Walker said not to go outside, but he didn’t say she couldn’t walk around the house. Barefooted, wearing Cara’s flannel shorts and a cotton T-shirt, she slipped from her room and quietly headed for the kitchen.

  The moonlight coming through the windows held back the darkness as she padded across the kitchen floor, found a glass, and poured some milk. She carried it to the table and sat down where he’d sat earlier, and her body tingled at the memory of the reckless way she’d kissed him. Was it his confidence that attracted her and jerked her from her safe zone? Or was it the danger that lurked just beneath the surface? How did Cara manage to get so close to him? If it wasn’t so late, she would have retrieved her phone and the card Joe left with her and called Cara right then. She grimaced as she slowly shook her head. Was there anything else she could do to prove how adolescent she was?

  Walker was teaching her to shoot. Surely he wouldn’t want her armed if he meant to hurt her. Caring about whether her arm got stronger also seemed out of character for a villain, but it was more than that. Every cell in her body vibrated with the certainty he was a good man, that he told her the truth and that he would put himself in harm’s way to keep her alive. She had no proof—it was just a feeling, but this time she’d trust her instincts. Until she had evidence to the contrary, she’d give him the benefit of the doubt. When Walker came face-to-face with Johnny . . . well, she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

  That small decision seemed to lift a weight off her shoulders. She rinsed her glass and started for the stairs, hoping she might finally be able to sleep. As her foot hit the first step, the peace of the hilltop was shattered by the earsplitting shriek of an alarm that froze her where she was and echoed in the thundering of her heart.

  Breathless and too scared to move, she clung to the banister, unsure where the danger lay. Walker was upstairs. He’d know what to do. She forced herself to move but, two steps later, she remembered her promise. Reluctantly, she retreated down the stairs and ran toward the study and the entrance to the hidden safe room.

  The intruder slipped silently from the shadows in the kitchen doorway as Darcy hurried by. Before she could react, a man grabbed her roughly around the waist, pinning her arms to her sides while he shoved her against the wall. Her breath expelled in a rush, and for precious seconds, she struggled to draw in air, made worse when he forced a sweaty palm over her mouth.

  “Don’t make a sound, or you’ll be sorry you did.” The alarm still blared, and the man spoke close to her ear.

  In the half moonlight, she couldn’t make out any distinguishing features, other than he was possibly a head or so taller than she, and his hair was light-colored. She’d never seen this man before—she was sure of that. Who was he? What did he want?

  His breath on her cheek and sweaty hands touching her turned her stomach, and it was all she could do not to gag. Terror, held at bay by disbelief for the first few seconds, now settled around her like a cloak. Her heart ached from its erratic beating, her arms and legs were heavy and slow to respond, and her breathing seemed to choke off somewhere in her throat where fear tightened its incapacitating grip.

  Suddenly, silence returned, itself deafening, as someone cut the alarm. Walker! Calm flooded her mind. Walker would come for her, just like he always did. Relief gave her determination. He’d want her to stall this guy until he could reach her.

  The man tensed and jerked his gaze toward the staircase. Just as quickly, he skewered her with a warning glare. “Not a sound,” he whispered. Immediately, he whipped her around, slammed her chest into the wall, and held her there with hips and thighs pressed far too intimately against hers. A strangled gasp escaped her as he pulled her hands together and bound them with something hard and narrow, tugging the binding snug around her wrists.

  Darcy turned her head at a small noise from the direction of the stairs. Her heartbeat picked up speed with the prospect of rescue, but she caught no movement in the dark shadows.

  The intruder wound his hand in her hair and jerked her head back. “Make a sound and I’ll kill him first . . . then you.”

  WALKER’S CELL PHONE rang, waking him from a fitful sleep. He didn’t recognize the number and the lateness of the hour added to his anxiety. “Yeah.”

  “Wake up, Walker. You’re about to have a visitor, if you haven’t already.”

  “Who is this?” Walker sat up, listening for anything out of the ordinary.

  “Cooper. There’s no time to explain. I’m a few minutes away yet so you’re on your own until I get there.”

  “And I should believe you because . . .”

  The shriek of the alarm cut him off. “Shit!” His sentiment echoed on the other end of the line before he dropped the phone and grabbed his gun. In the hallway, the noise was even louder. Walker couldn’t hear anything but the blaring siren. He threw open the door to Darcy’s room and crossed to the bed. Good—she’d listened to him and was already on her way to the safe room. There was a keypad at the top of the stairs. He had to cut the alarm so he could hear.

  The silence was nearly as deafening as the alarm had been when he finally turned it off. He waited and strained to catch any movement in the house. When he was almost ready to give up and start searching, there was a small sound from the direction of the study. Darcy should already be in the safe room. Did she panic and fail to get the door open? Carefully, he continued down the stairs, stopping every few steps to watch and listen. The closer he got to the study, the more sure he was he’d found his trespasser. He’
d learned to trust his instincts, and right now they were telling him Darcy hadn’t made it to the safety of the room below.

  Pressed up against the wall near the door to the study, he heard more movement from inside and, finally, a voice whispering. It wasn’t Darcy’s voice, but he knew she was there too. Her soft fragrance hung on the air. He closed his eyes and visualized the layout of the room. The furnishings lined the walls, leaving the center aisle bare except for the large oak desk in the back of the room. If he tried to rush the intruder, he’d make an easy target. Whoever was in there with Darcy already knew Walker was here, so he might as well announce his presence. He clenched his jaw until it hurt and cursed himself for not keeping her with him. He knew better. This was his job, and he hadn’t stayed alive all these years by accident. He was good at what he did . . . until that slip of a girl had messed with his head.

  “There’s no way out of there. Why don’t we talk about this?” Walker tried to sound casual, unconcerned, but even he heard the edge to his voice.

  “You must be Walker. I’ve heard a lot about you. You know better than anybody there’s always a way out.” The voice held a trace of a Texas drawl.

  “Do I know you?” Walker searched his memory and tried to put a name to the voice.

  “I doubt it.”

  “What do you want?”

  “You know what I want.” The man swore, and Walker heard a muffled cry from Darcy that made him see red. He struggled to control his rage and process the information at hand.

  “If you wanted her dead, she wouldn’t still be alive, and you wouldn’t be trapped in there with no way out. You have to know I’m not going to let you leave here with her.”