Runaway

by Susan Sheehey

  “Mm. What is that, paprika?”

  His grin widened. “That’s a secret.”

  He turned back around, retreating to the kitchen.

  Skye watched his every step. She’d been watching him all morning. How could she not? The man was even more handsome than the day before with a fresh shave and his hair tucked under a black Seahawks ballcap. Or maybe her imagination was just getting away with itself. It’s not like there were many dating options in this town. At least none she hadn’t known most of her life and wasn’t interested. Besides, not many men could pull off that cooking apron the way he did.

  “Skye, more coffee, please?” Gloria asked from the corner booth.

  She jumped. “Oh! Sorry!” She grabbed the pot and cringed on the way over to her tables. They’d asked for refills a while ago, and she kept getting distracted. Gloria sat beside her new love-interest, Principal Foster. Rumor had it she and Victor had been seeing each other a few weeks now. Which was kinda interesting since Syke thought Victor was gay. But at least now the diner was back to half-full. Rumors had spread throughout town about the new cook, and people were anxious to see if he was worth his salt. Thank God for that. She wouldn’t have to look for a new job while she finished her college courses.

  Skye glanced back at the counter where Guy had set another three breakfast plates. He wore a concentrated prideful expression. Only one plate had been sent back this morning, with someone’s eggs a little too runny. Otherwise, all the other dishes had been spot-on. Yeah, definitely worth his salt in her mind.

  The few interactions he’d had with customers, Skye listened intently. Everyone asked him where he was from and what brought him to town. He had a different excuse for each one: in the witness protection program, a cybercriminal robbing banks from his computer, even a federal agent looking for his next target. Everyone chuckled. His fresh sense of humor was like a warm breeze through this place. Or more like an adrenaline shot to the soul.

  Even Gloria and Victor found him instantly charming. Her former principal was impossible to impress, and she rarely saw him smile. But with Guy, the man had chuckled.

  She finished washing a set of lunch plates after their last customer. Guy wiped down the grills and restocked ingredients for tomorrow, all the while whistling a song she couldn’t identify.

  “You seem to be a big hit on your first day.”

  He shrugged. “Guess people are just grateful not to have to suffer through Ralph’s food anymore.” Then he continued whistling.

  “There are lots of places to become a cook. What brought you into town?”

  Guy stopped whistling but continued scrubbing the prep area. His jeans hugged his ass nicely but were relaxed around his thighs. Skye secretly enjoyed the view.

  “Are you a doomsday prepper, convinced the apocalypse is around the corner?” She leaned against the counter, her arms braced behind her.

  That made him stop cleaning, and he turned to face her. “A what?”

  She smiled. “Or are you a cult leader on the run from the authorities?”

  The corner of his lip pulled up. “Bank robber on the lam. Don’t tell anyone.”

  She bit her lip playfully. “I can keep a secret.”

  “That’s pretty rare for a small town. And an imagination as vivid as yours…” He stepped forward. He didn’t stop until he was mere inches from her face.

  Her heart jumped in anticipation. Was he really that forward, after just one day? Her mind told her to be cautious, but her heart was so damn curious.

  Then he reached behind her, his arm brushing against her hip as he grabbed her novel from under the shelf. “I assume you get that imagination from the likes of Grisham.” He flipped through a few pages. “Who else do you like to read?”

  Skye’s deep breath felt like a gasp. Warm fuzzies filled her all over, which she had to shake from her senses. “Um…King, Steel, Patterson, Roberts. Really I like all fiction, but especially suspense and mystery.” Her face was so hot; it was probably beyond red. Damn, he was still so close and smelled like rosemary. “Do you have a lot of time for reading?”

  He set the book back on the counter. “Not much lately. But hopefully, I’ll have more time now that I’m here.”

  She was still out of breath. “Well, let me know what you’re looking for. I have an insider at the library.”

  Straight white teeth showed through in his smile. “Does your dealer have the latest Milton book?”

  “I’m sure she could oblige. What else are you looking for?”

  He thought for a second, his gaze still perusing her face.

  Let’s see if he takes the bait. What else are you looking for? Something sweet?

  “Now that you mention it…” he replied. “There is something I’ve wanted to sink my teeth into.”

  She held her breath because his gaze was so disarming. Hypnotizing, even.

  He’s taking the bait. He likes sweet. Oh, please, take a bite.

  “Online gaming.”

  Skye’s trance broke. “What?”

  “Online video games. Do you play?”

  She huffed out a laugh, trying to hide a hint of disappointment. “No. Can’t say I have.”

  He pulled off his apron and leaned against the counter beside her. “I hear it’s all the rage. Figured I’d give that a shot, too. While I had the time.”

  She turned her body to face him, her hand on the counter. More to steady herself from his alluring stare. “You came up to Cascade Creek to play online video games?”

  He shrugged. “They say there’s serious money in it.” His lips twitched into a smile. “Where else can a bank robber hide his stash?”

  “You could never be a bank robber.”

  He tilted his head. “Why do you say that?”

  “You’re too good looking. You’d stick out. The first rule is to blend in … you know, easily forgettable.”

  He leaned in, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “You think I’m good looking?”

  She rolled her eyes to hide a smirk. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

  “Too late.” He winked and spun around, hanging his apron on the hook by the door before he left the diner, the door jingling behind him.

  Skye buried her face in her hands. Sure enough, her skin was as hot as a pressure cooker. Well, Lynée was right about one thing.

  The enigma of Guy had her completely hypnotized.

  The professor’s voice in Skye’s Corporate Communications and Public Relations class droned on like a robotic feed from a CB radio. She was lucky her mind only wandered instead of being put to sleep by the monotonous white noise. At least now, she had something more intriguing to let her mind wander toward. Images of Guy kept popping up in her brain. He had grace and ease in Rock Road’s kitchen, a self-confidence the likes of which she wasn’t used to seeing. Of course, she had to hold back a laugh when he couldn’t find the switch to the vent hood, and the place started filling with smoke. Ralph almost had a conniption over that.

  He circled in her imagination like a brain teaser. What is he doing here? Maybe he was broke; Cascade Creek was a cheap place to live. Or perhaps he was running from the law. Or he just got divorced.

  Ugh. That last thought unsettled her. Statistically, it was the most likely answer.

  Dammit, Skye, enough.

  She hardly knew the man, and now she was filling her fantasies, acting like a teenager drooling over his muscles or giggling at his jokes, which is the same behavior that got her burned the first time.

  Am I ever going to learn my lesson?

  “Miss Winters.”

  Her attention instantly switched to high alert as the professor called her name.

  “Welcome to the discussion. What is one of the things a company can do to dispel a rumor?”

  “Um…communicate with people.” Hopefully, not using the voice of a robocaller.

  “Very good. Rather than staying quiet and pretending that nothing is going on, it is essential we communicate wit
h others. The company should approach the rumor mongers themselves and inquire about what they’ve heard.”

  Skye exhaled. Dodged a bullet. If she could stay focused long enough to finish this class and one more after that, she’d have her degree. How to fill her idle energy with something other than Mr. Sexy Ass at the diner?

  She groaned inside.

  How Reed had managed to work through his first shift without poisoning anyone with salmonella, he had no idea. Either through his novice abilities at cooking, or constant distraction of Skye’s energetic persona, those swaying hips, and intoxicating laughter, someone was bound to have ended up with raw chicken or fish at some point. Or a burnt steak that looked like a hockey puck. Had to be a miracle.

  But at least something had gone his way for once in the last year.

  He needed to use this new streak to his advantage, capitalize on it for his investigation while he could.

  He drove through the small town and back roads for much longer than necessary, making sure to take a different route home. Just in case someone followed him. Old habits and all. Despite all his glances in the rearview mirror, he didn’t notice anyone suspicious. But he knew better than to let down his guard. Finally, he pulled up the gravel driveway to his rental house.

  He sat in his truck for a few moments. Scanning the outside of the cabin, waiting for something in his gut to warn him. He even scanned the trees, checking for snipers or broken branches they’d left in their wake. Those cartel suckers were slicker, and he couldn’t take any chances. But everything seemed just as he’d left it, down to the awkward tilt of the lampshade. His other safeguards were in place, and he deemed it safe to go in.

  With a grip on his pistol in the back of his waistband, he ventured inside.

  The cabin was quiet. Dust particles illuminated by the sunlight floated in the air. The large twig he’d left on the wooden planks just beyond the door remained unmoved from intruders. His security cameras didn’t show anyone snooping around his place while he was gone, either. Always a good sign, he could stay another day. With a deep breath, he uncocked his gun.

  A quick shower and change later, he was back in his truck with his laptop bag headed for Seattle. The three-hour drive was a necessity to conduct his first online search. He couldn’t make the mistake of doing that from his cabin without the proper proxy equipment in place to hide him from prying eyes. The agency would detect him in three heartbeats, have a pinpoint on his geographic location in minutes, with agents up his ass sooner than he could warm a microwave meal. Not to mention the cartel had their own tech team jonesing for his head in a duffel bag. He was no rookie. Better to do this far from home, at least for now.

  Granted, the tactics took a lot more time and involved more effort, but he had to stay free long enough to identify and find Joe’s killer, which was worth more than the additional strain.

  The long drive gave him more than enough time to think about his current predicament. To stew over the fact that in the last year, he hadn’t gotten any closer to finding his target, bringing them to justice for his partner’s death, or at least clearing his own damn name. By the time he’d lost the cartel thugs tailing him and felt comfortable enough to set down a base camp to start his investigation, they’d find him again. Which normally ended up with several bullets flying over his head, and another few weeks in the wilderness trying to throw them off. The only civil conversation he’d had was with the few people in this new town—Skye, in particular.

  Please let this place be far enough away. Let me take a deep breath for once.

  He passed rows and rows of apple trees, olive trees, and up into the mountains where the pines towered over the road. The fresh air grew crisper with the elevation, and soon he reached Snoqualmie Pass, the point through the Cascade Mountains that led into the western coast of Washington State. Snow already covered the highest point of the barren peaks, though just a light dusting compared to what he remembered in the winters.

  Hopefully, he wouldn’t be here that long. He could do his clandestine investigation and somehow bring his partner’s killer to justice and prove he wasn’t a murderer. But he had to be realistic. It would take time to find the information he needed, the evidence to prove it, and more importantly, find where these suckers were located because they were no amateurs. Which meant he had to prepare for a long-haul, including a snowed-in winter in his cabin. God willing. And daily shifts with Skye Winters, with her ocean blue eyes staring at him, eager for him to share something interesting. What he wouldn’t give to be snowed in with her for a weekend.

  Damn, he had to stay focused. Somehow.

  The dark waters of Seattle’s Elliott Bay glittered from the snippets of sunlight piercing through the clouds. A breathtaking view if he’d ever seen one. Reed much preferred this part of Mother Nature’s beauty than the dry, dusty deserts of El Paso and New Mexico, enchanting as they were.

  He made sure his fake mustache, reading glasses, and backward ballcap were properly in place before he found a coffee shop close to the bay. Sporty-hipster facade in place, he settled into a cozy corner. With his laptop open and a fresh venti coffee, it took less than five minutes to find someone with an unlocked wifi signal he could borrow. Using his masking software, he piggy-backed off their I.P. address to check old email accounts and find any information he could about that horrible night eleven months earlier. He combed through news articles, dark web sites, and anything else he could think of to find a lead to chase—a starting off point to dive in further. The real meat of what he needed was behind sophisticated, ironclad security systems within the DEA, NSA, and their top clearance contractors, which would take weeks or months to access, if at all. And he certainly wouldn’t dare attempt breaking in from a public coffee shop.

  He only had two things to go on: the face of the cartel thug who’d shot his partner, and the single phrase Joe had said with his dying breath: “Dark Inferno.”

  The man had choked on his own blood as he’d said them. Reed had never seen his mentor’s face so ashen, like a ghost, the dark red blood covering his teeth and a trickle-down his chin.

  No. He rubbed his temples, trying to shake the image from his mind. “Don’t focus on that,” whispering to himself, “don’t go there.”

  The son of a bitch who’d killed Joe in cold blood didn’t have a name yet. Before the DEA had deleted Reed’s logins, he had scanned through all the files to see if anyone matched who he saw in that dark warehouse that night in El Paso. Zilch. But there’s no way he would ever forget that man’s face. His vicious gleam of sick pleasure after shooting Reed’s partner in the chest. The sound of Joe gasping for breath, choking…gurgling…

  Shit! He slammed his hands on the table, causing a few patrons to glance his way.

  Why hadn’t Joe checked in those last few days? Why did he have to go chase that lead on his own? Why hadn’t Reed pushed back hard enough on his partner’s determination to go it alone? Their case had stalled over the preceding weeks, and Joe had been just as frustrated as Reed. The cartel had found a new way to coordinate drop locations for their drug shipments, completely under DEA radar. Reed and Joe had been thwarted time and again, and they were losing the war against this violent and savvy cartel. Until Joe had finally gotten a nibble of a lead and chased it down on his own. Three days later, Reed had caught up with him in time to see three bullets plugged into his chest.

  Dammit, stop it. I’m no good to him as a puddle of PTSD bullshit.

  Sure, Reed hadn’t had more than three hours of straight sleep since that night. But he could sleep when he was dead. For now, he had work to do—blood to wash off his hands.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to focus. He couldn’t let the emotional anguish distract him.

  Dark Inferno, he thought. He didn’t even have time to chase down that lead before two more cartel thugs had caught up with him at their safehouse. He only had time to grab his bailout bag filled with cash, a few hard drives, and a few fake IDs—everyt
hing else he had to leave behind. With more bullets flying past his ass, there was no time to grab his laptop. Twenty-four hours later, he was sitting in the DEA El Paso field office, waiting for debriefing when they came in and slapped handcuffs on him. They charged him with the murder of his partner and a host of other allegations. They thought he was a double agent. The world spun around him, and he knew the only chance he had was to run.

  He’d been on the run ever since, hiding out in one hell hole after another, trying desperately to stay ahead of the agents on his tail and the hitmen with a hard-on for an undercover DEA agent.

  After a messy close call in Ruidoso where he’d had to put a slug in two more cartel grunts, he’d gone completely off-grid. No hotels, no major highways with traffic cameras…and no Internet.

  A pair of college girls with their caramel macchiato monstrosities walked by him. One gave him a wink and lingered at the napkin and sugar station. In just a quick glance, he knew both their names from their cups, the university they attended from the logo on their cut-off shirts, and what kind of car she drove from her keychain dangling from her hand. Another glance, and he knew her license plate number from the bright yellow Kia out front. He shook his head. Literally in less than three seconds, and he’d know everything about Mariah and her friend, down to their physical addresses, social media accounts, emails, and even their most frequented hangouts from the geolocation information stored on each photo in her account.

  He’d learned some pretty shady shit in college, and then even more disturbing tricks in the agency. If he could do it that easily with just the laptop in front of him, these girls didn’t want to know what the more nefarious technogeeks like him could do with his full equipment. They’d never take another picture again, let alone touch a computer.

  But that’s why Reed was in this job. That’s why he stuck around. So he could stop it. So he could stop the guy who’d killed Joe and keep more of these evil bastards from hurting anyone else.

  He typed ‘Dark Inferno’ into the search bar.