They had to get going.
She turned and Nate saw it. He held up one finger and she nodded. Cyan looked at the new notifications from her neighbor, chatting about the break-in for anyone to see. Vanessa had also shared an article about an altercation at the club last night.
Cyan clicked through and read the article. The police had found the offices and hall empty, and blood on the floor. No one saw what had happened. They were calling for anyone who knew about it to contact them with information. Cyan noted down the phone number and shoved the paper in her back pocket, logged out, and swiped up Nate’s phone.
She stood, almost colliding with a leather jacket surrounded by a cloud of cigar smell.
She held her breath and stepped to the side. The giant guy did the same. She looked up at his worn face and the long beard that touched his chest. “Excuse me.”
“Cyan Greene.”
She took a step back. A reflex, but it was what it was. Even without a childhood spent in witness protection, she would likely still feel weird about strangers knowing her name. If she’d been able to persuade her mom, Cyan would have sung under an assumed name. Heaven knew she had enough identities; one more wouldn’t have killed her. But, no. Her mom had been in love with the name she’d picked, so Cyan didn’t have the luxury of anonymity now that her singing career had floundered.
She shrugged, going for nonchalance. “The singer? Sure, I guess I look like her a little. But I’m not her. Sorry.”
Her gaze flitted over to Nate, who was looking up at her from the book. She shook her head. This situation wasn’t going to improve if he got involved. She moved to step around the stranger, but the guy grabbed her elbow. “Know you when I see you.”
Nate’s phone rang. She lifted it and saw Daire’s name on the screen. “I should get this. It’s my boyfriend. He’s really protective of me.”
The big man huffed, but she managed to pull away from him. Nate excused himself from the kids and met her halfway. She held up the phone so he could see who was calling.
His eyes widened, and he answered it. “Yes?”
The story time moms were still taking pictures, and some were trying to get Nate’s attention.
“That’s not going to happen.” His eyes darkened, his gaze flitting around the room like men were going to jump out any second and start shooting at everyone.
She whispered, “We should go.”
Nate nodded. This time it was Cyan who grabbed his hand and tugged him to a side room with an emergency exit. The bar sounded an alarm, but they were outside and jogging across the parking lot within seconds.
He spoke into the phone. “Maybe, maybe not.”
Nate gritted his teeth, but she didn’t know if it was the phone call or his foot. The limp was worse today.
Cyan looked back and saw the biker guy staring at them out the open door. No one else seemed to be lurking, and she didn’t see any cops. Or anyone trying to kill them.
They piled in the truck, and Nate drove away.
“You give me Daire. Then we’ll talk.”
Cyan glanced at him. Would he pay a price to regain his friend, even though Daire seemed to think he didn’t need any help? Was Cyan only here because Nate wanted to trade her and the SD card for his friend? As much as she knew about Nate Mason, she couldn’t see that happening. But who knew? Maybe he would give her up.
Publicity said he volunteered with local children’s programs, that he “gave back” to the community. Cyan of all people knew the difference between public knowledge and the truth.
Nate hung up. Cyan braced for whatever was going to happen next, her gaze on the buildings and houses passing by as he drove.
“You okay?”
She shrugged. “Sure. Peachy.”
She had no clean clothes, no purse, no cell phone, nothing personal at all on her, and she was on the run from a murderer. A man—one she didn’t even know—had been kidnapped. He could die because of her.
The last twelve hours had left her wrung out and lacking hope.
Cyan flicked the radio on and tuned it to a Christian station that played up-beat music. She needed to refocus fast or she would misstep and probably get herself caught.
Or killed.
Chapter 8
Nate hadn’t wanted to believe it, but it was real now. Somehow they’d managed to overpower Daire and get him out of the club. Nate drove while Cyan told him about the newspaper article she’d seen online at the library.
She shifted on the seat and pulled a folded up paper from her back pocket. “I wrote down the contact number the police gave out, just in case.”
Nate nodded, still thinking through what they were supposed to do next.
“And I didn’t see anything about Boomer or his house. I looked real quick for that, too.”
“Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “I appreciate you checking.”
Nate pulled up at a stoplight and glanced over. Cyan’s hair covered the sides of her face, which was pale. Her eyes seemed darker now. Even with the music she’d chosen, Nate didn’t think much was going to help her feel better. Still, he took her hand as he pulled the truck forward. “I’m going to help you, Cyan. I won’t leave you to face this alone.”
He knew he could help her, so long as he got a little help from his brothers. He was part of this even if he’d originally been there to spy on Mimi.
“But for how long?” she said. “You can’t put your life on hold indefinitely or until we figure out a way to end this. I won’t let you do that to your life. Your career.”
“Cyan—”
She didn’t know his career was basically over. If his ankle healed, Nate was still facing surgery. He’d been sidelined for the rest of the season, and the reality of it was he’d probably never regain his game all the way.
She turned her big brown eyes to him. “You have obligations; I know that. I mostly only have to go home, so I can feed my cat…if she’s still there.” She pressed her lips together. “The money from last night’s gig would have paid my rent. I’m not sure where I’m going to get that now, but I’ll figure it out.”
“I can cover your rent money, Cyan.” Did she really think he wouldn’t?
“No. There’s no way I’m going to take your money. Not when I’m the reason you’re involved in this.”
That was precisely the reason he was going to pay her rent—because she wouldn’t let him.
She shook her head. “Last night didn’t go like I’d planned, but I can figure out my own life. I’m not going to accept rent money from a stranger.”
She gripped the door handle like she was about to jump out. Did she want to strike out on her own? She might not fare much better than with him, but something had to be said for safety in numbers. And he wasn’t going to let her take the SD card who-knew-where. Then he’d never get Daire back.
Because Nate had every intention of doing what it took to get his friend back. Grant and Ben had the contents of the SD card, so who cared if he gave it to the men who were after Cyan. It wouldn’t make much difference now, as it wasn’t the only copy. Cyan would be safe, and Nate would have something to trade for Daire.
It was a good plan. If he was Ben.
Too bad he was just a football player.
Nate pushed aside the depression that had taken up residence on his shoulders as soon as he’d heard the word “surgery.” He used the unregistered phone to call Grant again and left another voice mail letting his brother know they’d sent the email.
He needed to do something, and it wasn’t going to put Cyan in danger. Would they take money, along with the SD card, in exchange? The man on the phone, who’d identified himself as Cooper, hadn’t given him much in the way of options. He’d said he was watching them, though how he could be doing that Nate didn’t know.
They needed to rest, then find somewhere new to hole up. A place where he could figure out how Ben would get out of a situation like this. Maybe John would know, but his sheriff-brother could only b
e reached by secure phone—something Nate didn’t have right then, as it was in his safe at home.
He had to figure this out on his own, because the man on the phone, who’d called himself “Cooper,” wanted Cyan. And the SD card. That was how he’d said it. Cyan, plus the SD card. Like it was an add-on he cared less about. The whole thing had Nate’s brain spinning with a hundred questions. Chief of which was why this man didn’t care so much about incriminating photos—unless he didn’t think a potential leak to the cops of their activities was a big deal—and why he cared so much about getting his hands on the woman in the seat beside Nate.
Nate would see about her rent. Right now a few hundred was small potatoes compared with the danger Cyan could be in. He glanced at her. “We’re hardly strangers.”
Cyan’s eyes didn’t give anything away. “I don’t want to be in your debt.”
“We all owe each other something. That’s how life works. But friends don’t count favors and expect payment in return, not like some people do.”
She swallowed, like she was fighting emotion.
“We’re friends, remember?”
She shifted her gaze to look out the window, but he knew she was tracking with him when she nodded.
“Something tells me you haven’t had a whole lot of friends in your life, Cyan Greene.”
“Not good ones.”
“Now’s the time to change that. You can trust me, and I’m prepared to prove that to you.”
He wanted to ask her if she knew of any reason why the “boss” wanted her, and not just the SD card. Cooper’s intention hadn’t been anything like someone who wanted to silence their enemy. He’d sounded almost…desperate but in a twisted way. He’d wanted Cyan. If Cooper was the boss, he must have seen Cyan or already known who she was.
Was there something in Cyan’s past to shed light on this? He should be asking her, but the words just wouldn’t come. He hesitated to dredge up what might be painful when she already looked so broken he could barely stand it.
Nate parked outside the motel room. “Do you want to call that number for the police? Or maybe find a payphone? You can at least anonymously tell them what you saw. Then they might get to the truth quicker.”
Cyan smiled, a small victory in an otherwise crappy day. He stuck it in the category with the kids at story time. They’d reminded him of his nephew, until their moms started hitting on him and he’d seen that huge guy bothering Cyan.
It was like neither of them could even go out in public.
He climbed out and circled the truck, taking her hand as they walked to the motel room. “Rest and then the phone call. Sound good?”
She nodded. “Rest sounds heavenly.”
Nate unlocked the door. The room inside was dark, and it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust and for Cyan to come into view in front of him. Nate turned to secure the door when the man stepped into view, back dropped by the light outside.
He lifted a gun. “In.”
**
“I’m going to assume you’re Cooper.”
Cyan gasped, glancing between Nate and the man blocking their way out. The moment she realized someone was there, she’d thought it was Daire. But it wasn’t; it was the creepy guy from the office and from the lake shore at Nate’s house.
Cooper kept the gun trained on Nate with his gloved hand. “You’ve been un-cooperative so far. That’s going to change now.” His thin lips curled into a sneer. “Thanks for leading me right to you.”
His cold eyes flicked from Nate to her, and he pulled something from his pocket. His greasy hair shifted across his forehead with the movement. “Catch.” He threw something toward Nate.
Nate’s hand came up, and she started to yell. He started to turn toward her even as he caught the thing with a reflexive action.
Nate flung it aside, and the gun landed with a dull thud on the bed.
“No,” she breathed.
Cooper crossed the room, still holding his gun so that neither of them dared to move. “I’m sorry to say, the damage has been done.”
Cyan’s stomach dropped. “Why did you do that?”
He shrugged. “Someone had to take the blame for your friend’s death.” He side-stepped Nate and moved to the bed, where he picked up the gun with two fingers on the barrel and stuck it back in his jacket pocket.
He was going to…to kill Daire? And then blame it on Nate? He’d touched the gun! She covered her mouth with her hand as sickness welled up in her stomach.
Nate’s shoulders moved, but Cooper saw it and narrowed his eyes. “Nothing funny and you’ll have a chance of living. Although you’ll be in prison for murder.”
“He’s my friend. No one will believe you.”
Cooper huffed out a laugh. “Yes, because everyone will believe the entitled, rich football player didn’t murder someone when your fingerprints are on the gun.” His eyes burned with so much hatred it made Cyan step back.
If she offered him the SD card, would he let them go in exchange? They could clear Nate’s name with the police. He didn’t have to take the fall for Daire’s murder. Was Dare already dead? Maybe the police could help them stop it before it happened.
Cooper strode to her, looking at her in a way that made her skin crawl. What did he want? He grabbed her arm and shoved her ahead of him. “Out to the car. Both of you.”
Cyan reached for Nate’s hand. At the same time, he reached out. They clasped hands, and she drew strength from the warmth of his touch.
Cooper pulled her aside. “No touching.” His eyes were almost feral.
Cyan rubbed above her elbow where he’d grabbed her. Nate frowned at Cooper, his eyes assessing the challenge this man presented. She shook her head. Cooper would kill him if Nate took him on. Cooper would kill Daire, and Nate’s death would be marred with the stain of being a murderer.
Cooper pressed the gun into Nate. “Move.” When Nate walked to the door, Cooper grabbed her arm and pulled her along. Maybe someone outside would see them. Not that this was a neighborhood where they would be outraged at a man with a gun and call the police, but she could hope.
“You’re driving.”
Nate stopped at the door of the ugly old tan colored car. “You want me to walk around?”
Cooper threw him keys, which Nate caught, then he turned the gun on Cyan. He held it an inch from her temple. “You do anything but get in the front and start the engine and she’s a stain on the sidewalk.”
For a moment it looked like Nate was trying to decide if he should call Cooper’s bluff. Then he got in. Did Nate really think Cooper might not actually want to kill Cyan? He might have a plan for her, but she didn’t doubt it would end up with her dead somewhere. Jane Doe in a shallow grave.
God, help us.
Cooper opened the back door in front of her and shoved her in, then climbed in behind and sat close enough she was mashed up against the door. Nate moved the rear view mirror so she could see his face. He crinkled his brow, and she shut her eyes for a clear second. She wasn’t okay, and she wasn’t going to infer she was. There was a man—and a gun—pressed up against her.
Nate pinned Cooper with a hard look. “Where are we going?”
“Just drive.”
Nate pulled away, and Cooper turned to her, close enough that when he spoke his breath brushed across her cheek. “Saw your picture on Instagram. Looking up at him.” He motioned to Nate with his chin, his lip curling. “Don’t know what you see in a guy like that, when a real man like me is right here.”
Instead of throwing up, which was what she wanted to do, Cyan tried to smile at him. If she played along instead of standing up to him, would he tell her what his intentions were? “Where are you taking us?”
“Business first, then later we’ll have time to get to know each other.”
Nate said, “Are you the ‘boss’?”
Cooper opened his mouth but didn’t admit it.
“He isn’t,” Cyan said, more to face-off with Cooper than answer
Nate’s question. “He was with Mimi in the office.”
“Like I said,” Cooper bit out. “Business first.”
“Because the ‘boss’ wants the SD card?” Cyan paused. “But why would you be involved in that?”
His eyes flicked over her face. “What I get out of this depends on you.” His head flicked around to where Nate was driving—obviously not in any hurry to get anywhere. He also scanned the streets around them an awful lot.
“Turn left.”
Cyan tried shallow breaths.
Could she offer him some kind of deal? Maybe only if she thought she’d be able to get out of it afterward. If the “boss” got the SD card and Cooper got her, would Nate just walk away with his friend? She wouldn’t blame him if he did; most people would cut their losses. Or tell the cops and then walk away. There was nothing between them that would mean he should risk his life. He had a football career. Cyan had…a cat. She didn’t even have her guitar. She’d left it in Nate’s truck, in his garage.
Because she was so self-centered, so materialistic, that was all she cared about?
Cyan squeezed her eyes shut and prayed harder than she’d ever prayed. Some things were worse than death, and she had no intention of finding out exactly how much worse.
Chapter 9
Cooper directed him to a mansion in Hialeah Gardens. Nate pulled the car to a stop under the covered entrance, and Cooper got out Nate’s side, pushing Cyan ahead of him. Nate wanted to take her hand again, so they could face whatever this was together. But that wasn’t going to happen with Cooper looking at him like he wanted to shoot Nate right here on the paved drive.
They made their way to the front door with Nate walking as slow as possible to delay the inevitable, and Cooper awkwardly hauling Cyan along in front of him.
Nate glanced at the house, which was slightly smaller than his. He put away the satisfaction that gave him. It wasn’t for right now. “Is this where you have Daire?”
“That’s his name?” Cooper snorted out what Nate supposed was meant to be a laugh. “Dare?”
Team Love on the Run Box-Set #1 Page 23