Aftershocks

by Damschroder, Natalie J.

  “I’m hungry, honey,” Zoe told Grant. “Is there a place to eat on this island?”

  “No, I’ve got a surprise for you in Miami,” he told her. “A sweet little place. You’ll love it.”

  She beamed at him, hoping it looked real. “I hope it won’t take long to get there.”

  “Nah. Short flight. Private plane.” He waggled his eyebrows. “So we can get going right away.”

  “Excellent.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the “couple” sharing a look. It had worked.

  They didn’t see the duo after that, not in Miami or on the plane. When Grant caught her looking over her shoulder for the eighth time since they’d disembarked in Atlanta, he assured her it was okay that they hadn’t.

  “They don’t want to make us suspicious, and running into them here would do that.”

  “I suppose.” But she couldn’t stop looking. Not just for Cowboy and Beachy, but for anyone who looked like they were too casual, or watching them too carefully, or following them, or even, hell, speaking too animatedly—or not animatedly enough—into their cell phones.

  “I’m turning paranoid,” she complained. They were at their gate, surrounded by people, and she couldn’t look in every direction at once. She moved to a seat that was angled around a center table, putting her forty-five degrees to Grant. It let her look out the window without moving her away from where he could see the whole concourse. “When is our next flight again?” She was having trouble holding on to details.

  “We board in half an hour.”

  She sat for a few minutes, not looking around, not looking at Grant, but also not able to stop her knee from bouncing and her mind from racing in a hundred different directions. What if they’d lost their followers completely? She’d used her credit card to buy their plane tickets to give them something to trace, but maybe that was a step too far. What if they got someone to Utah first? Not that there was going to be anything in that train car for them to find. But if not, that meant they were wasting time and money, themselves.

  God. She shot to her feet. “I’m going to call my parents.” She pulled out her phone and started to move away.

  “Don’t go far.” Grant continued to recline in his seat, still sporting the beach bum look. He’d changed into relaxed-fit jeans worn to holes in places and a loose, short-sleeved button-down shirt over a t-shirt. The baseball hat was turned backwards, the brim scrunched down over his wavy hair. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. In short, he looked delicious. If Zoe had just spotted him as she walked down the concourse, she’d have tripped over someone’s suitcase because she’d be unable to look away from him.

  Just like that woman there. Well, she didn’t trip over a suitcase so much as walk into a TSA agent. He didn’t look very happy.

  Zoe sighed and leaned against a pillar while she speed-dialed her parents’ house. The phone only rang once before her mother answered. She was never very far from it.

  “Zoe?”

  She grimaced. Yay for caller ID. “Yeah, Mom, it’s me. How are you?”

  “Oh, darling, it’s so good to hear your voice. We haven’t talked to you in days.”

  She didn’t point out that they usually went a couple of weeks between calls. “I know. I’m—I’ve been busy.” She’d almost said she was traveling, but caught herself. She wanted the bad guys to know where she was, but it wouldn’t benefit her parents. It would open up questions and make them vulnerable if someone decided they had information. “Work’s been crazy,” she added. “How are you?”

  Again, her mother avoided the question. “Sadie Milner asked about you on Monday. No, wait. It had to be Sunday, because your father skipped church. Yes, I saw her on the steps there, not the grocery store. I ran into Barbara in the grocery store. She asked about you, too.”

  Zoe let her mother ramble on and tried to determine if something was wrong or if she was projecting. It was hard to tell. Her mother had a nervous demeanor in the best of times, which they hadn’t had in sixteen years. It had gotten worse as she progressed into her sixties.

  “And how’s Dad?” she asked when her mother took a breath.

  “A touch of a cold, actually, dear, and you know, at his age, that can get serious.” Her father had just turned seventy. “He’s taking his vitamin C and echinacea like a good boy, though, and Sally at the pharmacy said zinc and…oh, what was it…?”

  “Garlic?”

  “Right! Garlic can help, too. More as a preventive, she said, but maybe it could shorten how long he has his symptoms this time. So, you know.”

  Okay. Time to dig a little. “So, who else have you talked to, Mom? Anyone calling that doesn’t normally? I hope you’re not getting strange phone calls. Like pranksters.”

  “Are you?” Her voice quavered. “How dare they! You should get an unlisted number. I swear, the nerve of—”

  “No, no, Mom, I’m not getting prank calls.” That was the truth, though having a new, unlisted number helped. She hoped Kell wasn’t getting any, though. Crap. She hadn’t thought of that. “I was just hoping you weren’t. You know, they didn’t really give my name on the national news, just locally, back in Ohio.” The small town they’d moved to in Kentucky was far enough away from their old town that her parents didn’t get those local broadcasts.

  “Oh, good.” She heaved a sigh. “Well, we did have some calls in the beginning, you know, some well-wishers, and some people who pretended to be.”

  “I know, you told me that last week.” She couldn’t keep the impatience out of her voice. “I mean, is anyone bothering you now.”

  “Oh, no, dear, no one has called in a while. Except, you know, friends.” Suddenly, her tone turned cagey. It was a tone Zoe hadn’t heard in a while. “You know, what makes it all easier is having your father here. You can get through anything with the right man at your side.”

  Zoe gritted her teeth. “Remember Kell, Mom? You don’t need to worry about me.”

  Her mother was silent for a few seconds. “You haven’t talked about Kellen in a few weeks. I thought maybe something had happened.”

  She swallowed back hysterical laughter. “So you were hinting? Doing a little subtle digging?”

  “I am your mother. It’s what we do.” Zoe could hear the smile in her voice and relaxed.

  “Okay. No, nothing’s happened.” She managed to get the lie out without her voice going all tight and squeaky. Everything seemed to be normal at her mother’s end. If someone had approached her, she wouldn’t be able to hide it. Not even behind subtle digging. Zoe chatted with her until Grant signaled that it was time to board, and rang off feeling much better about that end of things.

  For now, anyway.

  Chapter Eight

  The four-hour flight passed uneventfully. Grant slept. Zoe tried to, but had trouble turning off her awareness of him. It wasn’t throat-drying need or muscle-inspired lust, only a sensation down the right side of her body that he was close. A tuning in when he shifted or made a noise in his sleep. Just enough to keep her brain from drifting away.

  So when they landed and got off the plane at the Salt Lake City terminal, she was slightly on edge and in need of a few moments to herself.

  “Hey! Some of us don’t have camel humps,” she called after Grant when he headed straight for the main entrance. He turned, frowning at her.

  “I have to go the bathroom?” She waved a hand in that direction. He nodded, and she grumbled all the way into the stall. “Thanks ever so much for your gracious permission.”

  She was glad he couldn’t hear her griping. She wouldn’t have gotten even this far without him, and it wasn’t his fault she couldn’t turn off this awareness.

  It wasn’t hers, either. She straightened and stared at herself in the mirror. It wasn’t her fault. Chemistry was natural. Uncontrollable. The side of her mouth quirked up in her reflection. For once, not being able to control something made her feel better.

  So all she had to do was ignore it. P
retend it didn’t exist.

  When she came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Grant was leaning against the wall, his expression lazy under the brim of his cap, but his eyes sharp. Her pulse picked up speed at the sight of him. She ignored it.

  “See anyone?” she asked.

  He shook his head, pushed off the wall, and started walking. “Do you want to get a hotel room first, rest a bit?”

  “You mean hotel rooms, don’t you?” She emphasized the S, then kicked herself. She sucked at pretending.

  “Whatever. Do you? You didn’t sleep much on the plane.”

  “How do you know? You did.”

  He just slanted a look at her.

  “No, I’m fine. Let’s just find this rail car.”

  “Pushing yourself isn’t going to do anybody any good.”

  Zoe walked faster. She didn’t want to argue, but the clock was ticking. “I’m fine,” she repeated.

  “Hey.” Grant grabbed her arm and yanked her to a halt.

  Before he could say anything, a man charged at them from the right, roaring. “Get your hands off of her!”

  Zoe cried out as the man body-slammed Grant, ripping his hand off her arm. He blocked the attacker’s swing, but before he could throw a punch, she yelled, “No! Stop!”

  Both men actually froze. Kell looked at her, but Grant didn’t take his eyes off the other man. She stood panting, even though she hadn’t been the one fighting, and stared at the sudden collision of her two worlds.

  “It’s okay,” she said, not knowing what else to do. “He’s with me.”

  “Who?” both men asked.

  “I guess…both of you.” She blew out a frustrated breath. Joy twisted with shock and fear in a queasy tangle. “Kell, what are you doing here?” She hated how harsh it sounded, but they were being tracked, if not outright watched. His appearance could undo everything. She had to get rid of him, fast.

  Grant dropped his arm from where it was braced against Kell’s. “This is your fiancé?” He eyed Kell speculatively.

  “Ex-fiancé.” For a second, Zoe tried to see him through Grant’s eyes. He looked like the lawyer he was, in khakis and a polo and Italian loafers. An expensive travel tote lay on its side a few feet away. Even after his lunge at Grant, his hair was perfectly combed and expertly cut. He was the antithesis of Grant’s scruffiness.

  “I’m obviously at a disadvantage.” Kell, too, had dropped his arms, but he glowered at Grant. “Who is this guy, and why was he manhandling you?”

  “Grant Neely,” he growled, “also ex-fiancé, and I was just stopping her from running off. She’s cranky right now.”

  “Oh, for cripes sake.” She stomped over to them. “Grant and I knew each other when we were teenagers. I never accepted your proposal,” she reminded him. “He’s helping me with…something.” It was probably too late to keep Kell out of this, but she had to try. “Here’s a tip: don’t tell a cranky woman that she’s cranky.”

  Grant grinned, but Kell still glowered.

  “What’s going on?” He used his courtroom voice. Zoe took a deep breath to keep fear from coming out as annoyance, then decided to let it fly. Maybe she could argue him into leaving.

  “What’s going on is none of your business. We’re not engaged anymore.”

  “Are you with this guy?” He gestured toward Grant without looking at him, somehow managing to be dismissive but not losing the tension in his body. His tone made clear that he meant with, not just “with.”

  The earlier kiss flashed through her brain. “Not romantically,” she said, not sure if it qualified as a lie. She could have said yes, because hurting Kell would make things simpler, but she’d done enough of that. “He’s just an old friend who has the connections and skills I need to solve a problem.”

  “And I don’t.”

  “No.” The word came out softer than she’d intended.

  “Are you in danger?” He moved closer to her.

  “She could be,” Grant answered. Kell didn’t look at him until he continued, “She doesn’t want you to be part of this.”

  “You tell me she could be in danger and then to stay out of it? What kind of man do you think I am?”

  “I didn’t tell you to stay out of it,” Grant corrected. “It’s her call. And I’m waiting for you to show me.”

  She didn’t get it. “Show you what?”

  Kell did. “What kind of a man I am.” He shoved his hand through his hair. “Zoe, you owe me an explanation.”

  “No, I don’t.” She really did, but… Hell, she might as well be honest. “You’re in more danger than I am.” She swallowed Olivia’s name, unsure if that would send him away or make him more determined to stay.

  His brows knitted. “From whom?”

  Grant rolled his eyes at the grammar, or maybe at his cluelessness, but it wasn’t Kell’s fault he didn’t know anything.

  “It’s a long story,” she tried.

  But Kell just nodded. “Okay, then. Let’s go somewhere we can talk.” He turned and walked over to his bag, bent to grab the strap—

  —and something zoomed past, right where his head had been.

  Grant didn’t give them time to react. Before Zoe was done gasping, he’d grabbed her arm and pulled her behind him as he pushed at Kell.

  “Run.”

  Kell hesitated long enough for them to pass him, putting himself between Zoe and whoever was behind them. Grant led the way, and they dashed past the baggage claim area and toward the exit. She strained to hear running feet while fighting not to look back and slow them all down.

  They rushed through the automatic doors. Grant paused a split second to look both ways, then led them right, past the cars dropping off and picking up people. They leapt over a low pile of luggage—one, two, three, Zoe holding her breath but clearing it without a stumble—and ran past a line of people lumbering toward the cab line.

  Grant ignored the attendant who approached and yanked open the first taxi’s door, shoving Zoe in and sliding in after her. Through the window, she watched Kell hand the attendant some money before he climbed quickly into the front seat.

  “Downtown,” Grant barked at the driver. A seasoned older woman, she put the vehicle in gear and pulled out without looking, cutting off a shuttle. Horns blared behind them. Zoe drew a deep breath, afraid to consider them safe. Grant studied the traffic behind them through the back window.

  “Two men, average-looking, kinda brown hair, one darker than the other,” the driver said. He turned and met her eyes in the rearview mirror. She continued, “They ran down the sidewalk after you. One kicked someone’s suitcase when we pulled away. Said a few bad words, too. Wanna hear them?”

  “No, thanks.” Grant gave her his crooked grin. “What were they wearing?”

  “Jeans, normal shirts, you know. Nondescript. One blue, one gray shirt. No hats or glasses.”

  He laughed. “Impressive. You get people on the run often?”

  “You’d be surprised.” Her eyes crinkled as she smiled back at him in the mirror.

  “Did they get a cab?”

  “Nope. Georgie made them get in line.”

  “We were lucky,” Zoe murmured. Her body eased into the seat behind her as the tension drained out of Grant.

  “Not lucky,” he said. “Smooth. Thanks,” he told Kell. “Quick thinking, paying Georgie to intercept. You okay? Did it hit you?”

  Kell half turned to look at them, but his gaze was mostly on Zoe. “Fine. It missed. You see what it was?”

  Grant shook his head. “Something heavy. It thudded, then clattered as it went across the floor. I didn’t see who threw it, so don’t bother asking.”

  Zoe closed her mouth and looked out the window. She’d never seen the Rockies from the ground, only flying over, and the way these towered over the city ahead of them, practically glowing in the setting sun, put a feeling in her chest she couldn’t describe. Awe, probably. She’d have to come back here someday, for vacation or business. It deserve
d to be enjoyed, not careened through.

  “We’re nearing downtown,” the driver broke the silence. “Where to?”

  “Any hotel will be fine,” Grant told her.

  “Something with suites,” Kell added, then murmured something Zoe couldn’t hear.

  Zoe bit her lower lip and concentrated on the mountains. She had a ton of questions for Kell, including how he’d found her and what he was doing there. But she didn’t want to ask them because if he answered, she’d have to give him answers to his own questions. Questions that would take a lot longer to answer, and hurt more. And probably some about Grant that she didn’t know the answers to, anyway.

  She remained subdued until the car pulled into a driveway in front of a gorgeous marble building. A doorman in a tan uniform opened her door and handed her out. She smiled uneasily. She wasn’t dressed for this place, and neither was Grant. Kell must have given the driver the name of this hotel, but how he knew about it, she had no idea.

  Worse than their appearance was how much the rooms would cost. She couldn’t let either man pay for his own space. They were both here because of her. But more than one night here would severely deplete her cash, and though she had plenty of savings she could access, doing so would leave too much of a trail. They wanted to make their pursuers feel like they had tabs on them, not point neon arrows at themselves.

  Kell paid the driver and closed his door, then turned to Zoe. He must have read what she was thinking, because he stepped closer and murmured, “I had a reservation here already. Tanicia made it for me when I left. We can register under the firm, not in your name. Okay?”

  She reluctantly nodded. She didn’t know if the people following them would know it was Kell who’d joined them. If they did, the firm registration gave them something to track that was connected to her, but distant enough to maybe take a little time to nail down.

  “After you, then.” Grant motioned at the doors, waving away a staff member who reached for their bags. Kell narrowed his eyes at Grant but, apparently deciding there was no downside, spun and led the way. Grant and Zoe stood back from the desk while Kell registered. They headed for the elevators before he did, so it wasn’t obvious they were together. Grant guided Zoe the whole way, telling her in a very low voice what Kell was doing. The precaution should have made her feel better—his outwardly casual touches on her arms and back and the motion of his lips near her ear had a dual effect that was far from calming. Part of her felt warm and zingy, enjoying the intimacy. The rest of her looked in from outside, knowing the whole charade had to be driving Kell insane.