Team Love on the Run Box-Set #1

by Lisa Phillips

  Nate didn’t believe it. Her dark coloring contrasted the now pale tone of her skin, and the grip she had on her stuff was shaky.

  Nate said, “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “No, you can’t leave.” The suited man winced as Daire’s grip on him tightened. He reached across with his opposite hand and tried to get his gun, but Daire slammed him against the wall. “I think not.”

  “Nate? Nate Mason?” A delighted laugh followed. “Every time I see one of your family someone gets in a fight.”

  He shot Mimi a look. “You’re the cause of most of them.”

  The singer edged toward the exit door, still gripping her guitar. Nate stepped that way. For some reason he just couldn’t let her walk away. Not without being sure she was going to be all right.

  Mimi looked at the younger woman. “I hope you’ve changed your mind about my offer.”

  The older man came out into the hall, too, the one who’d dragged her away from Nate. “You’re making a big mistake.”

  Nate looked over in time to see her shake her head. “I’m sorry. I’m done.” She hit the bar on the door with her hip and pushed her way outside.

  Nate turned back to his bodyguard. “I’ll see her out.”

  When Daire nodded, Nate followed her out to the dark parking lot. “Which car is yours?”

  She swung round, nearly beaming him in the thigh with her guitar case. “I…uh, I took the bus.”

  Nate waved her toward Daire’s truck. “I could give you a ride home.” It wasn’t a question, because he didn’t want her to refuse. “I’m not making a pass, and I’m not up to anything. I’d just like to see you home safe.”

  She didn’t say anything, but she did start to walk beside him.

  “You know who those guys were?”

  She shot him a wary look. “Are you a cop?”

  He chuckled. “Not hardly. Though I guess I know enough to speak some of their language.”

  Nate pulled the spare set of keys from his pocket. Daire insisted he carried them, for exactly this situation. Who knew when one of Daire’s crazy “what if” scenarios would actually happen? Nate remotely unlocked the truck and opened the front passenger door for her. She glanced from the truck to him. Was she still deciding whether to go with him or take off on her own?

  Nate decided to let her have a minute, hidden as they were by the vehicle. Maybe Daire would come out and tell them everything was okay now, that there was no “boss” out here waiting for the woman, and she wasn’t in some crazy kind of danger. Had she really stolen something?

  “Why don’t you tell me your name?”

  She bit her lip. “Cyan.”

  Looking up at him, she seemed so young. Every ounce of protectiveness swelled in him, more than it had in the hall when her manager dragged her away. This woman drew him like some tragic metaphor where a helpless creature is lured to its death. Nate had always jumped in head first, ever since he’d met his third grade teacher. He hadn’t grown out of it, so he tended not to date much. When he fell, he fell hard, and it usually ended up messy when it went bad.

  He’d had to pay his last girlfriend, who Ben had dubbed “the gold digger,” three hundred thousand just to stay away.

  Cyan—he pretty much loved her just for her name—didn’t seem like she’d be like that, but his radar permanently malfunctioned on all that stuff, so he couldn’t put any stock in it.

  “I’m Nate.” Did she know who he was? He hadn’t met a woman in a while who didn’t, but he enjoyed being surprised.

  “Hi, Nate.” She was still pale, looking more at the design on his T-shirt than his face. Nate touched her hand, finding her fingers cold and a gentle tremor there.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Cyan. I wish it were under better—”

  Screeching tires pulled around the building, a van was headed right for them.

  She pushed him away and jumped in the truck. “Time to go!”

  **

  Cyan gripped the door as they shot around a corner. Did the truck just lift up on two wheels? She really hoped this Nate guy knew what he was doing. He’d been calm under pressure in the hallway, but he could be worse than any of them. Only the fact he looked familiar kept her head straight as they raced down streets.

  She chanced a look behind them and saw the van three cars back. “They’re still behind us.”

  “I know.” His jaw set, Nate handed her his phone. “The code is zero-five-one-two. Go in my call history and find Daire.”

  Daire? Was it a name or a joke? “Okay, I’ve got it.” Cyan listened until she heard the dial tone. “It’s ringing.”

  Nate took it and put the call on speaker. It rang until it switched to voice mail. “Shoot.” He tossed the phone in the cup holder and tapped the steering wheel, his foot heavy on the gas. “Did you really steal from someone?”

  Was she supposed to answer his accusation? That wasn’t a question or an inquiry. Cyan folded her arms.

  “They’re chasing us because you’re a thief, and you’re going to say nothing? I could get in serious trouble if the police get involved. Accusations that might never go away.”

  Cyan figured that meant he might actually understand where she was coming from. She decided to take the risk, since the SD card was burning a hole in her pocket. “If I don’t tell you, then you can deny all knowledge of it. But if you want to know, then fine. Here’s the short version. I didn’t steal anything; I found it. It is theirs, though that’s arguable, but I can’t let them have it.”

  If he knew how serious this was, he’d probably freak out and kick her out of the car.

  Her stupid computer. That was the only explanation, the only possible trigger for officially the number three of the top five worst nights of her life so far. She’d assumed it was her computer fritzing up like normal, but it could just as easily have been sending out some kind of signal.

  She sighed. “I have to hand it to the right person.”

  “And who is that?”

  “A friend of mine who will take care of it.” If she mentioned the US Marshals, he’d be on the road to guessing what it was and why she might have it. That would be a violation of her exit deal with the witness protection program.

  His jaw flexed. “If you’re going to offer me half-truths, maybe you should get out here.”

  She glanced out at the side of the street they were racing down. Then Cyan looked at him, her head cocked to the side. “I would if you weren’t driving a hundred miles an hour.”

  She knew she’d hit the mark when Nate glanced down at the speedometer and let his foot off the gas pedal. She’d been exaggerating, but that wasn’t the point. If she died in a fiery car crash, the SD card would probably be the one thing that survived, and those guys in the van would wind up prying it from her cold dead hands. Or pocket. Whatever.

  Cyan would dearly like to know who they were. Her uncle had died in prison, but he’d had business associates. Or maybe rivals who knew about the SD card and wanted it back.

  Cyan balled her fist and slammed it down on her leg. Why hadn’t she left it alone? Her mom had hidden it all these years. Cyan should have tucked it away as well.

  Maybe if she told whoever was after it that it’d been broken and she hadn’t been able to view any files…

  No, they’d probably want it anyway. Would they kill her, though? That was the point. How much danger was she—Cyan glanced at Nate—were they in?

  “I think we lost them.”

  Cyan glanced out the back again but couldn’t see the van anymore. Evening traffic was heavy, which may have just saved their lives. Not that the streets of Miami were ever really quiet.

  “Turn left up there.” She’d have to grab a few things from home before she went on the run from the people trying to capture her. She sighed.

  When Nate pulled onto her street, she saw his eyes widen. Okay, so she didn’t live in the best neighborhood, but she didn’t need him to judge her for it.

  Then she saw what he
had.

  Police cars were parked at all angles by the curb, along with a white van, around the steps up to her second floor apartment. She and Nate opened their doors at the same time, and Cyan walked around the car to where he stood watching.

  Nate said, “I’ll wait here and keep on look-out for the van.”

  She nodded, figuring it was all the same to her whether he came with her or waited. “Just don’t leave, because you have my guitar.” She figured in getting her out of there so far, he’d earned that much trust.

  Cyan walked toward the police vehicles. At the bottom of the steps she glanced back. Nate leaned against the car with his face down, so the ball cap kept his face from view. Why didn’t he want anyone to recognize him? Sure, he looked familiar, but what was it about him that made him feel like he needed to hide from view? Maybe he just didn’t want to get in trouble. Or in more trouble. Was that it?

  He couldn’t possibly have more secrets than she did.

  Could he?

  “Smile for Instagram!” The flash of light blinded her for a second, and then Vanessa Rae appeared in front of her. Cyan’s neighbor waved to a uniformed man beside her. “This is Cyan Greene, the famous singer. It’s her apartment.”

  Sure, she was totally famous. That’s why Nate didn’t even recognize her, and neither did really anyone. Not anymore.

  Vanessa kept talking. “Honey, your apartment is cray-zee. Totally trashed.”

  Cyan looked toward her front door, moving that way before she even realized what she was doing. The officer held out a hand to stall her.

  “You probably don’t want to look just yet.”

  “I need to get some things.” She needed to get out of there, too, but the cop was looking intently at her. Should she just give him the SD card and wash her hands of the whole thing? That would get it out of circulation right now, and she wouldn’t have to worry. Vanessa Rae could Instagram that for the world to see.

  But was it the right thing? It seemed kind of amoral to try and save herself at the expense of the good she could do if she gave the SD card to the right person. If the cop was anything but upright, people who’d been hurt by whoever was in the photos wouldn’t get justice, and more might be harmed if Cyan didn’t put an end to them. She’d already been in witness protection once, and she’d enjoyed that life in her small town. The real world hadn’t really lived up to the hype.

  And yet the idea of testifying like her mother had made her want to run for cover. Was a quiet, anonymous life too much to ask for?

  The cop said, “What I need from you is to take a look and tell me if anything’s missing. You think you can do that?”

  Cyan nodded. “Will it help you catch who did this?”

  “It could, but cases like this it’s either random or it’s someone you know. So unless there’s a person who has a grudge and you think they might’ve done this, it doesn’t look likely. We’ll do a full investigation, but it’ll take time. It may even be weeks before we come up with a viable suspect to make an arrest.” He sighed. “Our people are in there now, and when they’re done you can take a look.”

  Cyan looked at her front door and the stuff strewn on her doorstep. It was like being swallowed whole. Where was she supposed to go now? This couldn’t be random. They knew where she lived.

  “Can I do this tomorrow?” Cyan backed up a step and saw Vanessa frown. If she took another picture, Cyan was liable to get arrested for punching her in the face. “It’s really late, and”—She sniffed for good measure—“I don’t think I can look at my apartment like this right now.”

  Chapter 4

  It was like emerging from a fog. Cyan shook off the daze in time to see Nate whoever-he-was punch a code in, and the gate in front of them rolled up to stand on its side.

  Cyan pulled out her phone as they drove, dialing the number for her contact at the Miami US Marshal’s office. It went to voicemail.

  “Steve? This is Cyan Greene. It’s very important that you call me back. Something happened.”

  Nate’s eyebrow rose as he pulled forward slowly down a long drive. Cyan lived in a tiny condo in a block of four condos. The house at the end of this driveway was like two of those blocks next to each other. He pressed the button on the garage door opener on his visor, and the left door of four garages rolled up. Yep, his house was the size of eight condos.

  Her already bizarre night had taken a turn for the insane.

  Nate parked by an Escalade that was beside something low and black and mean looking. Beyond that were two motorcycles, one of which had parts all over the floor.

  God, was this a bad idea? Why does he feel like the lifeline here?

  She got out when he did and pushed the door closed. The sound echoed in the garage, and Cyan squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the silence descend like a guillotine. A lump filled her throat as she tried to recall how this night should have gone. Now instead of a fresh and hopeful new start she had…nothing.

  “Hey.” He touched her shoulder. When she opened her eyes he was blurry, and when the tears spilled onto her cheeks, he wiped them away with his thumbs.

  Cyan stepped back, trying to figure out what she was supposed to do next. All of her belongings had been torn through, destroyed, and strewn everywhere, and there were men chasing her because of an old, tiny piece of plastic.

  Now it was the middle of the night, and she had no money for a hotel and nowhere else to go. If she admitted to one of her friends who she really was and what had happened, she’d be putting them in danger. This guy could at least take care of himself, or his friend had taken care of them while he got her to safety.

  Nate stepped forward, touching both her shoulders this time. “What is it?”

  Cyan shook her head. How selfish was she? All she could worry about was her stuff and the fact she couldn’t afford to replace any of it given she was currently unemployed. The evidence her mom had hidden all these years should be much more important. But maybe she just wasn’t the kind of person who submitted to a higher moral purpose. Her mom’s testimony wasn’t exactly noble, as much as it had been revenge on Cyan’s uncle.

  “Come inside, okay? You should at least sit down for a minute.”

  Did he think she was about to shatter? Cyan followed him, both out of curiosity and because she hadn’t yet figured out what she was going to do next. It was really late, and she had no idea where else to go. The police had declared her apartment a crime scene and were processing it for fingerprints and other evidence.

  This Nate guy didn’t know she’d been through fire before and survived. Yet he’d avoided the cops like a seasoned WITSEC pro. A fact for which she was seriously grateful. Still he didn’t know she had the SD card in her pocket. If Cyan had learned anything from her childhood, it was that when your life imploded what you needed was the upper hand. That was probably why her mom had kept it all those years, even when they were supposedly no longer in danger. If Cyan was going to survive this, it would be because she held on to the SD card until exactly the right moment.

  Sorry, Lord. You’re probably disappointed, but what else was I supposed to do? I need to be free of this past that had nothing to do with me. The Marshals can have the SD card. I only want to get on with my life.

  Cyan sighed. If she believed in karma, all this would make more sense, but God didn’t work like that. Or maybe she was reaping what she’d sowed somehow without realizing it. Was she a horrible person?

  “Why were you at the club tonight? Who was that guy—what did you say his name was? Daire?”

  Nate nodded, showing her to a couch that felt like sinking into a cloud. He disappeared for a minute and came back with a bottle of juice cold enough to jolt her from the couch’s wiles.

  Nate sat on an armchair, perching on the end like her but lifted his leg. The pillow on the coffee table made sense when he set his foot there with a wince.

  “Is there something wrong with your foot?”

  His nose crinkled for a minute. “Daire is my b
odyguard.” He pulled off his ball cap and tossed it on the table beyond his foot which was apparently an off-limits topic of conversation.

  “You have a bodyguard?” She looked around at the living room. Giant fireplace. Grand piano. On the patio outside, lights illuminated a deck with a hot tub. Her attention moved back to him. “Who are you?”

  His lips twitched. “You watch football?”

  “Not really.”

  “The Dolphins?”

  Cyan shrugged but something clicked. “Wait…Nate? Nate Mason?”

  He nodded.

  The name recognition had absolutely nothing to do with football, and everything to do with why this man looked familiar. Mason. A wave of emotion crested over her. Regret. Relief.

  The past, the reason she’d accepted her mom signing them out of witness protection—the whole thing was a complicated mess she didn’t know what to make of, so she mostly ignored it every single day of her life. That part of Cyan’s life was supposed to be over now, but her mom’s decision had changed the course of her life. And now it had happened again.

  She’d been forced to live with the loss of her childhood. That was normal enough, wasn’t it? Everyone she met seemed to be pining for yester-year. But she’d been ripped from hers because her mom had decided Cyan should be a star and signed her out of the nation’s only witness protection town with no notice.

  And given the fact she’d just broken up with Matthias, because his brother hit on her and Matt had caught them, meant Cyan had been gone before she even had the chance to explain.

  One day they were settled in their lives, and at the crack of dawn the next morning they were on a helicopter out of there.

  Given what had happened tonight, Cyan could only conclude she had perpetually crappy timing.

  Of course, Nate Mason wouldn’t know anything about his brother’s connection to a secret town full of people enrolled in the witness protection program. She couldn’t be the one to tell him or she’d get in trouble.