Running Wilde

by Tonya Burrows

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  He snapped the other cuff around his own wrist and held up his arm, rattled the chain. Her arm jiggled in response.

  She scowled. “I’ll escape.”

  He didn’t seem the least bit concerned. In fact, that arched brow of his looked a hell of a lot like amusement. “Yeah? You gonna chew off your own arm, vixen?”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “What should I call you? Sage? Lark? How about Summer? Violet?”

  Her stomach dropped. She thought she’d covered her tracks well, but if Vaughn had discovered her past identities, it was only a matter of time…

  Oh God.

  As much as she despised Vaughn at the moment, she didn’t want him to wind up dead because of her. “You need to let me go before you or your brothers get hurt.”

  “Threats now? Really?”

  “I’m not threatening. It’s just…you have no idea—”

  “Sounded like a threat. Walk.” He turned her toward the sidewalk and none-too-gently pushed her forward. “And threaten my brothers again, you won’t like the guy I turn into.”

  “Hulk smash,” she muttered. She glared over at him. “I don’t like the guy you are now.”

  Vaughn said nothing, only dug his cell phone out of his jacket and scrolled until he found the right contact. “I have her. We’re at…” He paused to glance around for a street sign. “Corner of Elysian Fields and North Rampart. Yeah, I see you coming. We’re crossing to your side of the street now.” As he spoke, he dragged her across the road to the grassy median, where they waited for several cars to pass before a black SUV with a roof rack pulled up into the turning lane. Vaughn pocketed his cell phone, yanked open the back door, and pushed her inside.

  She had to throw out a hand to keep from face-planting on the seat. “I’m really getting sick of all this shoving.”

  Again, he ignored her and settled in next to her. He reached forward with his free hand to clasp the driver’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” The driver glanced back, his smile still as charming as ever. Marcus. Should have figured. “You sure know how to show a guy a good time, doll.”

  “Fuck you.”

  He laughed and met Vaughn’s gaze. “Where to? Your car?”

  “No, airport. I don’t want to give her the time to plot another escape.”

  Marcus flicked a glance at her, and the corner of his mouth kicked up in a half smile. “She is, too. I can see it in her eyes. Airport it is, then. Jean-Luc and I will return your car to the rental place tomorrow.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  No. Not the airport. Panic reared up and threatened to strangle her. She couldn’t go back to DC, had to get away somehow, but no ideas were coming to mind. She could escape handcuffs, but she wouldn’t get very far with Vaughn sitting beside her. Until he gave her an opening, she was trapped.

  For the first time in years, she felt completely… helpless. And God, she’d promised herself she’d never feel this way again. She turned her face away and stared out the window.

  This couldn’t be happening. She’d been so careful for so many years, and now everything was crashing down around her…

  All because of Vaughn fucking Wilde.

  Chapter Five

  “This isn’t going to work.”

  Vaughn ignored Lark—Sage—whatever the hell her name was—and dragged her from the vehicle to the sidewalk outside the airline terminal. He took a moment to drop a coat over their cuffed hands to hide them from passersby, then turned back to Marcus. “Thanks, Deangelo. I owe you one.”

  Marcus gave a kind of half nod, an upward jerk of the chin. “It was more entertaining than watching Jean-Luc fuck his way through the female population of Bourbon Street. Well, except for the whole tasering thing. I could’ve done without that.” He winked at Sage. “You hurt me, doll. I thought we had something special.”

  “Marcus.” Vaughn put enough bite of warning in his tone to tell the guy to back off. But this was Marcus Deangelo, so of course he didn’t. He just grinned and held up his hands in supplication.

  “Relax, dude. I’m not trying to edge into your turf.”

  “She’s not my turf,” he said at the same time Sage snarled, “I’m not his anything.”

  Marcus’s gaze darted between them. “Uh-huh. Lemme tell ya, I’ve heard that line of bullshit before from three separate guys. Know how they ended up?” He ticked each off on his fingers. “One, married. Two, might as well be married. Three, baby daddy.” He pointed at Vaughn. “Watch yourself.”

  “Good-bye, Marcus.” Vaughn shut the door on his laughter and started toward the terminal, but of course it couldn’t be that easy.

  Sage dug in her heels, forcing him to either stop or drag her inside kicking and screaming. And he had no doubt she would kick and scream if he tried.

  Reining in his impatience—which took a hell of a lot more effort than it should have—he faced her again. “What?”

  Her chin hitched up. “I’m telling you, this isn’t going to work. No airline will let me on a plane. I don’t have ID. It’s in my purse back in my apartment.”

  Which she’d left behind, no doubt, because she’d been planning to steal someone else’s identity when she got to wherever she’d been headed. More lies, more fraud, and probably another conned boyfriend she’d lead around by the dick.

  And that royally pissed him off.

  Still, he had to admit, it didn’t change the fact she was right. She wasn’t getting on a plane without a valid form of ID, and his P.I. license wasn’t enough to allow him to transport her as a prisoner—something he would have considered before now if he had his damn head screwed on straight.

  He was still half-hard from her attempted seduction at the bus stop, and it was…distracting. She was distracting. Had been from the very first moment he’d laid eyes on her at Jude and Libby’s wedding, a blue bridesmaid dress clinging to every dangerous curve of her body. That first meeting, she’d glared at him, eyes narrowed…

  Much like she was right now.

  He broke the extended silence with a curse, and instead of going into the terminal like he’d originally planned, he stalked across a covered walkway to the customer service center, hauling her along behind him. She wasn’t exactly kicking and screaming, but she certainly wasn’t making this easy, and they drew several disapproving looks and a few concerned murmurs from the people they passed on the way to the car rental desks.

  He chose a different company from the one he used when he arrived—mainly because he figured they weren’t going to rent him another car when the first hadn’t been returned yet—and within ten minutes, they were headed into the garage with an attendant. Sage remained mulishly silent, even when the confused attendant spoke to her directly. For a half a second, Vaughn considered making excuses for her behavior, but what was the point? If she wanted to be a bitch to the poor guy, it wasn’t his problem. He wasn’t the fucking etiquette police.

  But after a quick walk-around inspection of the nothing-special sedan, he thanked the attendant and slipped the kid a twenty as an apology. He may not be the etiquette police, but his mother had taught him better than that and he refused to disrespect her memory with bad manners.

  Vaughn opened the driver’s side door and motioned for Sage to get in first. She snarled at him, then climbed in, fumbling over the center console and purposely, he thought, whacking his hand on the dash. His knuckles, still bruised from the cage fight, howled in pain, but he wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’d hurt him. He gritted his teeth and slid behind the wheel.

  Her arm flopped like dead weight as he shifted the car into gear and the edge of the cuff dug hard into his wrist. He scowled over at her. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

  “What? You think I’d make this easy on you?” She snorted. “Fat chance.”

  He stopped the car and, with his foot firmly pressed to the brake, levered himself
up to grab the handcuff key out of his pocket. He freed his wrist, reached over her, and secured the cuff to the passenger door handle instead. “Better?”

  She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and slouched back in her seat. “I’m still going to escape.”

  “Fat chance,” he mimicked in the same snarky tone.

  She went back to ignoring him and stared out the window. Fine by him. He wasn’t in a chatty mood, either.

  He switched on the radio—he’d gone for the satellite option since it was going to be a long fucking ride back to DC—and fiddled with the buttons until he found his favorite classic rock station. It was the kind of music his father had enjoyed, and listening to it always made him feel closer to David Wilde.

  The Rolling Stones song that had been playing ended, and Styx blared through the car, wailing about how the law finally caught up to a wanted man.

  Vaughn smirked and glanced over at his prisoner, but if she caught the irony, she didn’t show it. In fact, she didn’t appear to be at all aware of her surroundings anymore. As the lights of New Orleans faded farther and farther into the distance behind them, she seemed to shrink in on herself, her chin dropping to her chest, shoulders hunching forward. As if on cue, she began to shake with silent sobs.

  He returned his attention to the road. “It’s not going to work, vixen.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her jerk upright. She sniffled and wiped at her eyes with her free hand. “You’re a bully.”

  He snorted a half laugh. Him, a bully? Now that was funny. After his parents were killed when he and Cam were eleven, he’d grown into a morose teenager—had probably been clinically depressed, though he was never diagnosed—and had endured more than his fair share of bullying throughout high school because of it. It wasn’t until he’d joined the military at his oldest brother Greer’s urging, that he’d finally escaped the constant bullying. The Navy had given him the stability and structure he’d needed to overcome his teenage angst, and becoming a SEAL had given him purpose. He’d been able to take out some of the major bullies of the world and make a quiet difference. He had liked that about his job. He missed it more than he wanted any of his brothers to know.

  And, fucking hell, he wanted his trident back. He’d earned that pin with blood and sweat and tears.

  He glanced over at Sage again. “Where’s my trident?”

  …

  Jesus, the man must have a black pit for a heart. She’d just put on the most convincing damsel in distress act of her life—well, mostly an act. The tears had been real enough—and Vaughn hadn’t even blinked.

  When she didn’t answer, his hands tightened on the wheel. “Where is it, Lark?”

  “It’s Sage. And we’re back to your precious, huh?” She pushed out a breath and turned in her seat, holding out her cuffed wrist. They’d been in the car for a good forty minutes, and the metal was starting to chafe. “Uncuff me and I’ll tell you where it is.”

  “Fat fucking chance.”

  “Well, then. You’ll never see your precious again.”

  Vaughn grumbled under his breath, then took one hand off the wheel and levered his very fine ass up off the seat to dig the handcuff key out of his jeans pocket. He passed it to her and, thank you God, it felt amazing when the steel bracelet finally opened. She rubbed her wrist.

  “Where is it?” he demanded again.

  She had intended to keep her word and give the pin back, but suddenly the idea of parting with it settled like a rock in her gut. The chain was warm and heavy between her breasts, the pin a comforting weight, an anchor she’d come to rely on in the stormy sea that was her life. “I sold it, okay?”

  Headlights splashed into the car from oncoming traffic, and she saw the muscle under his eye twitch as he ground his teeth.

  Uh-oh. She should have kept her mouth shut. Did she have a death wish? Probably. Why else would she continue poking at him when he was coiled so tight, ready to strike?

  At the bus stop, she’d joked about him being like the Hulk, but she was starting to realize that wasn’t too far from the truth. Vaughn definitely had a calm Bruce Banner thing going for him—slow to anger, but once he got there, he was not a person you wanted to mess with.

  “For your sake,” he said softly, “you’d better be lying.”

  She opened her mouth to tell him yes, she was lying. In fact, she had his pin right here with her. But instead, she blurted, “I’m not. I needed the money.”

  Yup. Death wish.

  “Must have been a disappointing haul, then, since it’s not worth anything.”

  She slanted him a glance. “It must be worth something if you tracked me down just to get it back.”

  “So you still have it?”

  Damn. He was maneuvering her, and rather expertly. She had to up her game if she planned to play on the same field as Vaughn Wilde. “Pleading the fifth.”

  “You would.” He said nothing more for several long minutes. Then, curtly, as if he’d had to rip the words from deep inside his chest, “It’s…a sentimental thing.”

  If she closed her eyes and forgot the last two hours, she could almost pretend the sentiment he spoke of was about her rather than a pin. And how ridiculous was that?

  “All right,” she said, but the words came out a bit strangled. She cleared her throat, tried again. “All right. Let me go and I’ll give it back.”

  He made a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a laugh. “You know, my mom used to read Cam and me this book when we were kids,” he mused. “If you give a mouse a cookie…he’ll ask for the whole damn world.” He glanced over at her. “You got your cookie. I uncuffed you. You’re not getting anything else, so nice try.”

  She stared at him for several beats. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “What? Your parents never read you that book?”

  “My parents weren’t exactly the reading type. They weren’t even the parenting type.”

  Another beat. The silence was like a storm cloud between them, thick and pulsing with energy.

  “That sucks,” he said finally, and if she didn’t know him any better, she’d think he meant it, maybe he even felt a touch sorry for the little girl she’d been. And, yes, it had sucked, but whatever. Relying on others made you weak, and she hadn’t needed parents. She didn’t need anything from anyone. Especially not pity from him.

  “I promise this time I will give you the pin if you let me go.”

  He grunted. “So you can run off and steal another person’s ID? Not happening.”

  “I only take identities from the dead.”

  “It’s still stealing. Ever consider the family members of those dead people?”

  No, she hadn’t. Family was a foreign concept and wasn’t something that ever crossed her mind. Hell, her family now wanted her dead.

  Vaughn nodded. “Thought not. You have no idea the headaches and heartache you probably caused them by resurrecting their family members.” He looked at her again, but with the lights of the city far behind them, she could only see the outline of his jaw, and it was set in hard, stubborn lines. “So, no, I’m not letting you go. I’ll get my trident back when I turn you over to the authorities. Just figured I’d give you the opportunity to do the right thing first.”

  She slouched deeper into her seat. “Well, aren’t you noble.”

  He scoffed. “Farthest thing from it. I don’t like being made a fool of, vixen, and this is revenge. That I’ll be stopping you from hurting anyone else is just a sweet bonus.”

  Wow. His opinion of her couldn’t get much lower. Granted, she hadn’t exactly done much to inspire his confidence since they met last fall. Which meant she couldn’t place the whole blame for his shitty attitude toward her on him being an asshole. Dammit.

  Having him think of her as a manipulative bitch stung far more than it should. Because, well, she was a manipulative bitch. She’d had to be to survive. She just wished Vaughn hadn’t found it out.

  They lapsed
into silence, and the miles flew past far too quickly. They had already crossed into Alabama and were nearing Mobile according to the signs flashing by.

  God, she couldn’t go back to DC, even as much as she wanted to. For nearly two years, she’d had a good life there. Decent job as an administrative assistant, and the work had been more fulfilling than shaking her ass on a stage for drunk strangers. She’d had a best friend in Libby Wilde, an actual girlfriend she’d been able to call up for lunch or go to the movies with. And for a short while, she’d even had a fiancé—

  Of course, the fiancé hadn’t turned out so great. He was the reason she’d had to leave her life as Lark Warren in the first place. He’d been another very bad decision in a long line of many.

  “What happened after I left?” She’d avoided reading the news from DC once she’d settled in New Orleans. Hadn’t wanted the reminder of everything she’d given up. “I mean, with Preston?”

  “The police think he killed you,” Vaughn said after an extended beat of silence. “They figured he hid your body, and they won’t find it until they get him to confess, which he refuses to do. He’s still claiming he’s completely innocent of all the crimes he’s accused of.” He laughed without humor. “But you do have to appreciate the irony. The murder he actually didn’t commit is the one he’ll most be remembered for. The perfect murder of his sweet fiancée, Lark Warren.”

  She glanced over at him. The dashboard lights highlighted the harsh contours of his face, but she couldn’t read his expression. “He would have killed me had I stayed. He didn’t take the rejection of me leaving him for you well.”

  Vaughn’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I know. He tried to blow me up, remember?”

  She winced. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

  He blew out a long breath. “It wasn’t your fault. He was off his rocker. He would have tried anyway because he hated Cam and had no idea we’re identical twins. He thought I was Cam. Thought you were sleeping with Cam.”

  “Shows how well he knew me. Cam’s not really my type. He’s too…” She searched for the right word. “Nice.”