When I Find You: A Trust No One Novel

by Brown, Dixie Lee

  “I’m not asking for forever—just today—a few minutes while there’s nobody else in the house. I have no expectations beyond that and I won’t make you sorry later.”

  “Darcy, I’m—”

  “Still not done.” She held up her hand again. “Do you think I’m not afraid, Walker? Leaving you to go meet Johnny scares me to death. I’m way out of my comfort zone here. I was hoping for just a little bit of your strength. At the very least, I need to know you’re not mad at me before I go.” She paused. “Okay, I think I’m done now. You can make more of your excuses, or you can just tell me you don’t want me. I’m a big girl. I can take it.”

  Didn’t want her? She had it all wrong. Where had she ever gotten the idea he wasn’t interested, or that he wouldn’t be satisfied with her? Holy shit! Her kisses had practically brought him to his knees. Oh, he wanted her, all right, in ways she’d probably never heard of, and he’d delight in teaching her. He’d rejected her twice and put that hurt expression on her face. If she gave him enough time before she came to her senses, he’d make it up to her.

  He took two strides and caught her around the waist. “Shall I show you how much I want you?” His mouth came down on hers, devouring, possessing. He couldn’t get enough of her. When he lifted his head and pulled her tightly against him, her inhaled breath and the widening of her eyes told him she’d become aware of his arousal. “I told you I was done with the high road.”

  He kissed her neck and ear before capturing her lips again. He was half-afraid she’d realize what she’d gotten herself into and struggle to get away. God help him, he wasn’t sure he had the willpower to let her go, but when he looked at her again, she smiled. Ignoring the angel on his shoulder screaming this was wrong, he relegated guilt to the back of his mind. He’d have to deal with it later, just like he’d have to address the other things she’d said—but not now. He turned her around and pulled her back against him so he could whisper in her ear.

  “Naked . . . in my bed . . . now.”

  She shivered and glanced over her shoulder, uncertain again.

  “Go on. I’ll be right behind you. I just want to make sure everything is locked tight.” He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her purely woman scent. When he spoke again, he couldn’t keep his voice from trembling. “Go, or we’re not going to make it up the stairs.” He gave her a little shove toward the door.

  The next instant, he heard a gunshot and felt a tearing pain in his side.

  “Get down!” He dropped and pulled his gun from his shoulder holster. Darcy hunkered down behind one of the patio chairs a few feet away. He caught her eye. “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head, her eyes fixed on him. Walker followed her gaze to see his blood dripping on the cedar boards.

  “It’s only a scratch.” He reassured her out of habit, but he was losing a substantial amount of blood, even though the bullet had only grazed him. It hurt like hell, but it could have been so much worse. If he hadn’t pushed her away when he did, the bullet that grazed his rib cage would have hit her in the back.

  He had to stop the bleeding and find the shooter before the bastard got another shot at Darcy. Quickly, he removed his shirt and belt, ripped off a section of the shirttail, and folded it into a square. Placing it against the wound, he used his belt to cinch it tightly in place.

  “Listen to me, Darcy. The shot came from the east corner of the house. I’m going to make sure he doesn’t stick his head out, and you’re going to the safe room.”

  “You’re hurt. I’m not leaving you.”

  “You can’t help me by staying. I need to know you’re safe. You promised me. Remember?”

  “Okay.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her sudden reversal but thought it best to proceed before she changed her mind. “Go.” He stood and laid down ten rounds toward the east corner as she scrambled to her feet and ran. After Darcy had disappeared inside the house, he dove for cover and slipped a fresh clip into his gun. He couldn’t stay here. He had to move—now. Carefully, he worked his way to the edge of the deck. Jumping the low railing, he landed on the grass below. In a half crouch, he followed the deck until he had a full view of the east side of the house. No armed intruder lurked there.

  He swore as he shook off a wave of dizziness. The bullet had only grazed him. He couldn’t have lost enough blood to make a difference. Bullet wounds were painful, ripping and mangling flesh, but he’d had worse than this and managed to carry on. Shock did strange things to people, though, and his heart had almost stopped a minute ago when he realized how close he’d come to losing Darcy.

  All the more reason to stay on task. She would already be in the safe room so he wasn’t worried about her, but he had to find the gunman before he got off another lucky shot.

  Instinct or premonition, or maybe just good old-fashioned luck made him glance up to one of the second-story windows in time to see the curtain fall back in place. Walker dove toward the building and the cover it offered. Okay—new game plan. The son of a bitch was in the house.

  Chapter Fourteen

  * * *

  DARCY RAN STRAIGHT to the safe room but stayed only long enough to grab the Walther P22 she’d left on the nightstand, check to make sure it was loaded, and shove a handful of shells into her pocket before she rushed back to the stairs leading to the upper level. Her hand on the lever that would open the secret panel, she hesitated. Could the intruder be in the house by now? It wouldn’t be smart to reveal the secret entrance if there was any possibility he could be in the room above. She couldn’t take that chance.

  The monitors Walker showed her—she could use them to find the intruder. The row of small screens flickered to life as soon as she flipped the switch, but she saw no one. The study was empty—so was the deck. The house appeared deserted except for her. Where was Walker? He’d lost so much blood. She shouldn’t have left him.

  She was about to turn away from the monitors when someone came into view at the top of the stairs and, a second later, ducked back out of the camera’s range. There was no mistaking his identity. Medium height and powerfully built, the man’s greasy black hair fell across his forehead and draped over his ears, and a heavy five-o’clock shadow darkened his face. Reggie Allen waited somewhere at the top of those stairs, no doubt intent on finishing the job he started in Chicago.

  A chill shivered down her back and she had to remind herself to breathe. This man was trying to kill her, although she didn’t understand any of this. With Johnny alive, she couldn’t testify Reggie shot him. In spite of what Johnny said, Reggie had come after her in Chicago and it had to be him who sent Grant on the plane to Portland. She shook her head, unable to make any sense of it.

  On one of the other monitors, she located Walker. He entered the kitchen through the back door and moved toward the living room. His path would take him by the foot of the stairs. Reggie had the element of surprise, and Walker was already injured. Swallowing her fear, Darcy gripped the P22, hurried to the stairs leading up to the study, and pulled the lever. The secret door rolled open, and she bounded up the steps and through the room.

  At the hallway door, she hesitated. The staircase and part of the upper landing were visible from here, but she needed to be closer to have any chance of hitting her target. Slowly, she crept down the hall, staying as close to the wall as possible. Just ahead, the hall emptied into the core of the house, the front door straight ahead, the kitchen to the left, the living room to the right, and the staircase in the center. Reggie was still hidden from view, so she pressed against the wall and waited. Her hands sweated and her heart hammered in her chest.

  Walker appeared from the living room, walked directly to the staircase, and placed one foot on the bottom step, then glanced over his shoulder toward the hallway where she hid. Darcy started to call out in warning but, as she opened her mouth, Reggie said, “That’s far enough.”

  Walker froze and Reggie stepped out of the shadows at the top of the stairs.

 
“Drop your gun and kick it away.”

  “Why would I do that?” Walker held the gun at his side.

  “We need to talk, and I’ll be less likely to shoot you if you’re unarmed.”

  Walker nodded. “I know the feeling. It’s Reggie Allen—right?”

  “I could just kill you where you stand.”

  “Why didn’t you? Could it be because I know where Darcy is and you think I might tell you?”

  “You’re smart, Walker, but I know all about you. I know you’ll die before you tell me anything.”

  “Then why am I still alive?”

  “From what I saw outside on the deck a few minutes ago, I’m betting the girl won’t want to see you die, and she’ll come out of hiding on her own, which will save me a lot of trouble.” Reggie moved down a step and his lips twisted in an arrogant smile.

  Darcy wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans and gripped the handgun firmly. One more step. Just a little closer.

  Reggie stopped. “You and I have a lot in common. Why don’t we work something out? You help me—I help you.”

  “What is it you want?”

  “You know what I want.”

  “Yeah, but why? Johnny’s still alive. She can’t testify against you. Why do you care if she goes on breathing?”

  “It’s complicated—but necessary.” A scowl darkened Reggie’s expression. “DeLuca suspected Johnny would turn snitch, and he wasn’t about to let that happen. I was supposed to take him out. Imagine my surprise when the feds came calling and asked me to help stage Johnny’s death. It was a setup from the start. Johnny wanted DeLuca taken down and the feds were only too happy to lend a hand.”

  “What do you get out of the deal?” Walker still stood with one foot on the bottom step, gun in hand, pointed at the floor.

  “I get DeLuca’s operation, his power, the respect of the family. I’ve been planning and biding my time for years. This would have been perfect. DeLuca goes to prison and I step up without firing a shot.”

  “If you’re working with Johnny, why hurt the girl? Surely he didn’t sign off on that.”

  “The damn nanny wasn’t supposed to be there. At the last minute, DeLuca called in Montgomery, a new shooter from Atlanta, who’s been making a name for himself as a ruthless SOB, and suddenly all the rules changed. The feds decided to move everything up twenty-four hours so I could do the job before Montgomery got to town. If DeLuca didn’t believe Johnny was dead and that I pulled the trigger, we were screwed. So the feds are busting their asses, promoting the story Johnny Fontana disappeared under suspicious circumstances. They’ll no doubt find his body any day.” Reggie swung his gun hand around as he spoke, seeming to forget Walker was still armed.

  “That still doesn’t explain why you’re after the girl.” There was a deadly precision to Walker’s words that made Darcy’s breath quicken.

  She wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans for the fourth time and studied Reggie. Gone was any possibility she’d been mistaken about his intentions. Without batting an eye, he’d told Walker it was necessary for her to die. She swallowed hard, willed her heart to stop its wild drumming, and flicked her gaze over the gun in her hand. The P22 was all that stood in the way of her and Walker being killed. She had to get this right.

  “Everything would have been fine if the nanny hadn’t bolted. The marshals would have gotten her out with no one the wiser. Except now, the nanny knows too much and, instead of being safely under wraps someplace, she’s out in the open meeting new people every day. If she talks to the wrong person, my life won’t be worth the paper to write my obituary. With Montgomery sniffing around, it’s just a matter of time before he figures it out and uses her to find Johnny. Since I have a vested interest in Johnny staying alive, my best option is to remove the girl from the equation.” Reggie edged toward the next step.

  “Johnny’s not going to be happy with that plan.”

  “Sometimes people get caught in the crossfire. He won’t be happy, but he’ll understand.”

  “What about Marshal Evans? Did Johnny know he was working for DeLuca?” Walker took a slow step back.

  “That’s news to me. He was supposed to be their last chance at getting the girl away from here without anyone getting wise. If he’d known Darcy had already told you about Johnny, he could have just walked in and asked you for her. This whole thing’s been one big cluster.”

  Walker nodded slightly. “Who is this Montgomery you’re so worried about?”

  Reggie hesitated for a split second and surprise registered briefly in his expression. “I was sure he’d already been around here, but I can’t tell you how glad I am you haven’t made his acquaintance. That means I got here in time. All the more reason to end this today.”

  “So, you plan to kill Darcy . . . and then me?”

  “That depends. As I said, we have a lot in common.” Reggie took a step sideways toward the railing.

  “I don’t think you and I have anything in common. I don’t kill to make a name for myself . . . and I don’t get off on hurting innocent women.” A dangerous thread wound through the softness of Walker’s voice.

  Darcy couldn’t see his face, but the tense, rigid muscles of his shirtless back and shoulders told her how tightly wound he was. Nor could she see his wound or how much blood had soaked his makeshift bandage. Terror dulled her senses for a moment as she thought of Walker bleeding to death in front of her. Reggie’s face twisted with fury and, in that instant, she feared more for Walker’s life than her own. Determination gave her strength and clarity. She would only have one chance at this, and she had to make it good. Impatience clutched at her chest as she waited. Finally, Reggie took the step.

  Darcy moved away from the wall, aimed, and fired. Her shot caught him near the collarbone, knocking him back a few inches. Walker dove and rolled for cover.

  “Shit!” Reggie’s gaze locked on her as he attempted to staunch the flow of blood from his wound. He raised his hands as though to surrender but seconds later swung the barrel of his gun toward her.

  She fired again, and the bullet tore through his bicep. Two loud gunshots in quick succession followed hers. Reggie slumped over and tumbled down the stairs.

  Darcy’s breathing came in short, erratic gasps, and not enough oxygen, or maybe it was too much oxygen, made her feel faint. There was no time for that now. She leaned against the wall, desperately needing to sit before her legs gave out, but Walker was wounded and needed her help. Ignoring Reggie’s body crumpled at the foot of the stairs, she pushed away from the wall and stumbled unsteadily toward Walker.

  He kicked the gun from Reggie’s hand and felt for a pulse. “He’s still alive.”

  “I don’t care. You need a hospital, Walker.”

  “I’ll be fine.” He took out his phone and dialed 9-1-1. With an ambulance on the way, he called Joe, related what had happened, and asked him to contact the Marshals Service and get them to pave the way with the local PD.

  Darcy felt sick every time she looked at Reggie’s torn and bleeding body, so she held tightly to the banister and stared toward the upper floor. Walker came up behind her, slipped his arm around her waist, and pulled her back against him. She melted into the comfort of his presence.

  “Go upstairs and wait for me.” His whispered words tickled her ear.

  “I should be here when the police arrive.”

  “Don’t argue. Go upstairs. If they need to talk to you, I’ll come and get you. My backpack is in the closet in my room. Would you get it out for me please? And grab some towels from the bathroom. I’ll be up as soon as I can and then you can play nurse for me.”

  “You need a doctor.” Damn! Why couldn’t she stop the tremor in her voice?

  “The bullet just grazed me. I’m not leaving you alone to go to a doctor when I’ve got a beautiful nurse right here.” He nuzzled her neck then pushed her away and actually gave her a swat on her backside. She turned to protest indignantly, saw Reggie lying there with blood pooled around him, and d
ashed up the stairs without a word.

  DARCY HEARD THE sirens and, from Walker’s bedroom window, watched the first police cruiser and the ambulance arrive. She paced unendingly, waiting for someone to come for her statement. Why didn’t Walker let her wait with him? She wouldn’t be nervous enough to bite nails if he had.

  Five minutes after it arrived, the ambulance pulled away down the hill with lights and sirens. Reggie must still be alive. Darcy failed at conjuring any feelings for him at all. She was already too sick with worry about Walker.

  From the window, she spotted the line of four black SUVs as they pulled up the driveway and parked. Men with U.S. Marshals Service jackets poured out and into the house. Still she paced and no one came.

  Finally, when she couldn’t stand it any longer and strode toward the door to fling it open, the sound of voices outside her window caught her attention. She peered out as the men straggled from the house into their vehicles, started their engines, and drove away. Before the last SUV was out of sight, she heard footsteps on the stairs and hurried to the door just as Walker swung it open.

  She rushed forward, so relieved that he was all right. He caught her when she ran into his arms and a pained grunt escaped him. She jumped back, her hand flying to cover her mouth.

  “I’m sorry. How bad is it?”

  “Just a flesh wound. The bullet didn’t hit anything important.” Walker removed his belt and peeled away the folded square of fabric, crusted with his blood. The wound started bleeding again.

  Darcy inhaled sharply. “It looks serious to me. Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

  Walker reached for her hand and squeezed it reassuringly, then tugged her toward the foot of the bed and sat. “Hand me my backpack, would you please?”

  She retrieved the bag for him, and he dug around inside and came up with the flask he’d made her drink from that night in the woods.