Chapter Six
Kenzie had only been out of the state of Ohio twice. The first time was to drop her brother off at basic training in Fort Knox. The second was for her honeymoon, a four-day timeshare adventure in Honolulu.
She’d been sixteen when they’d gone to Kentucky, and nineteen when she’d gone to Hawaii. Now she was twenty-seven, her brother was home from four tours overseas, and her marriage . . . well . . . she liked to think she still had her best years in front of her.
It had looked that way until this morning, anyway.
Ohio was behind them before noon. Cole drove fast, but carefully, keeping a low profile on the freeways and sticking to side roads when he could. She could feel the tension between them thicken with each mile, what they’d agreed to do solidifying more and more into reality.
Going to Vegas was crazy. Hiding was crazy. Leaving home when her business was in ruins was crazy.
It’s gone, Kenz. That’s what her brother had told her when she’d asked what the damage was. Flapjacks was completely gone.
It felt like someone had taken a hammer to her ribs. Every time she breathed it hurt.
She’d tried to focus on next steps, but each one became more of a frustration. She couldn’t call the police—Tracksuit and his friend had made it clear that wasn’t an option. She shuddered to think of what they might do if they found out she’d turned them in.
Probably the same thing they’d do if they caught her at all.
Garrett wouldn’t know everything that needed to be done. The insurance claims or who their agent was. He didn’t know where she kept the paperwork, or the bank’s information. He couldn’t even tell her what appliances or tools might be salvageable from the kitchen, and what they’d have to buy new. This was her responsibility; she needed to manage it.
But she couldn’t, because she needed to hide.
In the space of an hour she’d gone from scared, to sad, to righteously pissed off. Cole seemed to think this was the smart play, but it felt wrong. The men who had done this deserved to rot in prison. They deserved to have a knife to their throats, as she had. She wanted to burn their houses, and see how they liked it.
But those weren’t options, either, and that made her even angrier.
The bad guys were winning. And she would play their game just to survive. That wasn’t justice. This wasn’t the kind of world she felt safe in.
She grabbed the apple pie from the backseat, and opened the package on her lap. Ripping off the plastic from a fork and knife set, she dug in.
Great, now she was stress-eating.
Cole glanced her way.
“You want some?” she asked, shoving a forkful his direction.
“Maybe in a while.”
“Good luck,” she muttered, cramming it in her mouth. “Might be gone by then the way things are going.”
They reached an interchange, and Cole switched lanes. For the fiftieth time he reached for the phone, but neither Cassie nor his other sister, Elaina, had returned his calls from earlier.
“It’s not even good,” she said, stabbing her fork into the crust to take another bite. “I’m going to die with store-bought apple pie as my last meal. There is truly no justice left in the world.”
Another bite.
“It won’t be your last meal,” he said.
Like he had any way of knowing that.
His mouth opened, as if he might say something, then shut again. Clearly there was something he needed to say, but couldn’t for whatever reason, and she set the fork down, bracing for the worst.
He was going to tell her he was bad, too. Working for his father or something. Taking her to the bad guys in exchange for his sister’s life.
Her stomach started to twist. She shouldn’t have gotten in this car. While she’d been lost in her own thoughts, he’d been lost in his. Who knew what he was scheming behind that guarded gaze? It felt paranoid—he’d rescued her from two criminals and a burning building—but that didn’t mean he hadn’t changed his mind.
She didn’t know who to trust anymore.
“Do you know much about Marsi’s past?” he asked.
She shifted in her chair, unsure where this was going.
“That your dad’s a psychopath? I know,” she said.
“How much did she tell you?”
“That depends,” Kenzie said carefully, unsure how much she should divulge. “Why do you want to know?”
He scratched the back of his neck, then pushed his broken glasses up his nose.
“Because maybe it’ll help me help her.”
“What happened to you two?” she asked, redirecting their conversation. “She said you guys were close when you were kids.”
“We were. She practically raised me.”
This surprised Kenzie. Cassie had never mentioned a mother. Until then, Kenzie hadn’t really considered if Mrs. Talent been in the crime business, too, or if she and Cassie’s father were divorced.
“And?” prompted Kenzie.
“And then she left,” said Cole bluntly. “And here we are.”
“Your sister didn’t just leave. There were extenuating circumstances.”
She thought of the night Cassie and Jake had come back to Ambrose—the night Garrett had given them the journal he’d held on to for two years for her. She’d told them the story of the raid on her father’s restaurant, and how she’d nearly been killed trying to escape. Looking at Cole now, Kenzie was starting to get the feeling he didn’t know any of this, and she couldn’t help but wonder if there was a reason for that.
Why was Cassie hiding things from her own brother?
“Is she in trouble?” he asked.
“I think it’s obvious she’s in trouble.”
“No.” Cole scowled again. “I mean, did she get herself into trouble? Was she working for my father?”
Kenzie watched him carefully, the realization of all Cole didn’t know slowly settling on her. She was good at reading people, always had been, and the hurt in his tone was subtle, but true.
Maybe Cassie had only been trying to protect her brother, but she’d left him completely in the dark.
“Your father tried to kill her.”
Cole looked over at her, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“When they went to Reno.”
His head dipped forward. He turned her way again.
“When were they in Reno? Who’s they?”
“She and Jake.” Kenzie bit her thumbnail, wondering if she was divulging too much. “You really don’t know?”
“Jake,” he said between his teeth. “Jake the cop. Big guy. Lots of hair.”
“That’s him. But he’s not a cop anymore, I don’t think.”
“Oh,” Cole laughed. “I know. I called the police department to find him after he went MIA and found he’d been fired almost two years earlier.”
“Whoops,” she said.
He inhaled. Exhaled.
“Why didn’t you come looking for her sooner?” asked Kenzie. “I mean, maybe it’s none of my business, but why now? Because you thought she was working with your dad?”
His speed had steadily increased since the start of this conversation. Her seat began to vibrate a little.
“I’ve been looking for her for two years,” he said.
There was more he wasn’t telling her, she could sense it, but it was stuck beneath a layer of frustration. She could feel it, stretching across the car. She couldn’t blame him. If Garrett had gone AWOL she wouldn’t have stopped until she’d found him.
“My dad tried to kill her?” The car accelerated again. She gripped the sides of her seat.
“Maybe we should slow down,” Kenzie suggested.
He glanced down at the speedometer and took his foot off the gas. At once, the car slowed, causing her to slam forward against the seatbelt.
“Please tell me what the hell is going on,” he said.
If they were in Ambrose, she might have held him off. If her diner were still standing, she might have made an excuse to avoid this conversation. But they were flying down the highway toward Vegas, with only a hope and a prayer that they were going to survive the men who chased them. If there was ever a time for truth, it was now.
“Your father gave her some kind of journal the night the police raided the restaurant,” she began. “That was Jake’s call by the way. He was an undercover cop trying to bring your father down.”
Cole stared ahead blankly.
“Anyway, he got fired after he helped her escape, I guess, so he’d been trying to find her ever since.”
Cole made a choking noise. “I sent him to Ambrose. If he hurt her . . .”
“No,” she said. “It’s not like that. He just wanted the book.” And also, he loves her. She left that part out for now, surprised that Cole was the reason behind Jake’s arrival in Ambrose.
“Continue,” Cole said after a moment.
“So she ran, and this guy tried to kill her, and it freaked her out so she drove for three days or something crazy, and then crashed into a ditch and broke her leg. Garrett was the first on the scene. After the surgery he brought her home, and she stayed with us for a couple years. She worked at the diner for me.”
“That’s where I found her picture,” he said. “There was this software package that recognized her face in one of the photos on your website.”
“Really?” she said. And then. “Oh.” She winced, realizing she’d unintentionally tipped the first domino in a very dangerous chain of events by posting Cassie’s picture. “The guy who tried to kill her came back looking for her. He broke in . . .” She faded off for a second, lost in the memories of Ben Singer’s attack. Absently, she rubbed at the scars on her wrists.
“He broke in,” Cole prompted.
“And took her to Reno. Jake followed. I guess your dad was willing to kill them if she didn’t hand over his little book, and your other sister stepped in and stopped him.”
“Elaina?”
“Yeah.”
He made a choking sound. “Everyone was there, and I had no idea.”
It wasn’t as simple as that, of course. Elaina had stopped their father from killing Jake and Cassie, but only had the power to do so because she had taken over as the head of their family crime organization. Kenzie didn’t know how Cole would take that little bit of information.
“The good news,” she said, keeping off the subject of the youngest Talent, “is that they escaped, and turned in the journal to the police, and then went into hiding.”
He took a moment to process this.
“She and Jake are in hiding. Both of them.”
“That’s right.”
“Is he protecting her or something?”
“I’m pretty sure Jake would take a bullet for her, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Another pause.
“They’re together,” he said.
She tapped a finger on her nose. “That’s right.”
His back hunched, bringing on a wave of pity. She couldn’t imagine falling away from Garrett, not even knowing who he loved or what kind of trouble he faced. He was her rock, and she was his.
“She’ll call,” she said, lifting the prepaid phone from the cup holder and giving it an enticing shake. Having it made her feel decidedly off the grid, a little too untethered.
“Sure,” he said.
He didn’t say another word for a long time.
• • •
They drove through two more states, stopping only for gas and fast food. Somewhere after midnight she drifted off, and woke when the car engine quieted in front of a motel in Oklahoma.
“Why are we stopping?” she asked, rubbing her eyes. Remembering their predicament, she looked behind them into the nearly empty lot. A broken neon sign was posted near the entrance. Safari Inn. Cute, except for the sign below it that boasted Jungle-Themed Rooms.
“I need to sleep.” Cole blinked, bringing on a rush of guilt. It was nearly ten a.m. He’d been driving since yesterday morning.
Her gaze turned from the motel’s zebra-striped doors to the man beside her. Only a day she’d known him, and already they were visiting a place called the Safari Inn.
Maybe she was sleep deprived, but the thought of sharing a bed with him in a little motel made her stomach flip-flop.
“I’ll drive,” she said.
He didn’t put up an argument, probably because he was too tired. They switched seats, but he didn’t close his eyes.
“I’m a good driver,” she said as he diligently watched the roads. “Perfect driving record. Okay, two speeding tickets. Three speeding tickets.”
He glanced over at her. She grimaced.
“Four speeding tickets. But the last one wasn’t my fault.”
“I’m sorry this happened,” he said. “I never meant to bring any of this on you.”
The words sounded rehearsed. She wondered how long he’d been thinking this while she slept.
“If it was my brother who’d been missing, I would have probably done the same thing,” she said.
The dotted white line flashed past between the lanes.
“Let’s talk about something good.” She needed a distraction. They both did.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “What’s your favorite kind of cookie?”
“Chocolate chip?”
“If you say it like a question, I’m less inclined to believe you.”
“Chocolate chip,” he said more assertively.
“Boring.”
A hint of a smile tilted his lips. “What’s yours?”
“I have at least seven favorite kinds of cookies.”
“Why does that not surprise me?”
She glared at him. “That better not have been a fat joke, Cole.”
He raised his hands, looking truly mortified. “It wasn’t. I just meant because . . . you’re sweet.”
She laughed. “Are you flirting with me, Mr. Talent?”
His ears turned pink. “I’d know better than that after meeting your brother.”
She waved a hand. “He’s harmless. As long as you’re wearing a bulletproof vest.” But her smile sagged a little, hoping Garrett was actually safe. She’d checked in with him throughout the night, but things had a way of changing quickly, and she didn’t like being so far away from him.
“I’ll look into that,” Cole said, making her wonder if that meant he was planning on flirting some more. She kind of hoped he did. When he loosened up and talked to her, she felt calmer. When he looked at her the way he did sometimes, she could feel her blood warm. She could imagine how they might be, together, if things were different.
Which was stupid. This was just a moment of lightness, a break from everything they ran from and to. The longer the silence stretched, the tighter the hand around her lungs squeezed.
“Cole?” She didn’t know what she wanted him to say, she just needed something to fill the quiet. She almost said his name again, when she noticed his eyes had closed. His head rested against the seat, and in the reflection of the window she could see the way his glasses sat crookedly on his nose.
He’d fallen asleep.
In the silence, she grew more uncertain, remembering the men who’d threatened her, and the fire. This was the right thing to do, she reminded herself. She needed to disappear for a while, to try to put a stop to this. She couldn’t live her life like Cassie and Jake, always on the run. She was a roots girl. She had a home she loved, and she wanted it back.
• • •
Almost a full day later, they reached Las Vegas. She could see it from a distance; a glowing oasis, even in the pale, pink light of morning.
“First time?” asked Cole. She jumped at the sound of his voice. Her eyes had been roaming from mirror to mirror to see if they were followed. Now that they were here, she was even more alert, and anxious to figure out their next steps.
“How can you tell?” She stretched her stiff back, rounding it first, then pulling her shoulder blades together.
His gaze lowered to her chest, then shot away.
“You’re looking at it like it might infect you,” he said, fixing his eyes on the road.
He had her there—she was a small-town girl, through and through.
“I haven’t traveled much.”
“Any reason?”
She shrugged. “I like my home.”
It took a moment to realize what she’d said, and soon it was clear they were both thinking about the men who’d burned down Flapjacks.
“You’ll be back soon,” he said, staring out the front window. “I promise.”
She watched him from across the car’s cabin. He was in the same button-up blue shirt, but now it was badly in need of a date with an iron. His slacks weren’t much better, and there were dark circles beneath his eyes.
He looked tired. She knew she hadn’t fantasized about a bed this much since last fall, when April, Ruby, and Cassie had called in sick and she had run Flapjacks solo, with only Garrett, master conversationalist and compulsive people pleaser, to run plates out to the booths.
You’ll be back soon. It was a bold claim from a man she’d just met, but she didn’t get the sense he was lying. He would try to fix this, but how exactly that would work out, she didn’t know.
“So what’s first?” she asked, wringing her hands together. “Hit the tables or go see Britney?”
He chuckled, his voice rough with fatigue. “Not you, too. My sister liked . . .” He trailed off.
She remembered the strained hug between him and Cassie. The almost non-existent good-bye.
“Cassie was a Britney fan?” There were definitely perks to this exile, including getting all the dirt on her friend.
“Elaina, actually,” he said. “I found the CDs hidden in a shoe box once. She told me she’d cut my fingers off if I told anyone.”
Besides her role in saving Cassie and Jake from August Talent, Kenzie had heard only a little bit about the wild, younger sister. She was a stripper, that much Cassie had finally spilled. But Kenzie knew little more than that.
“Exotic dancer and closeted Britney fan? I’ve got to meet this girl.”
His expression warped into a frown. He pointed at an overhead sign. “Here’s our exit.”
“Do you guys talk often?” She’d heard him leave a message when they’d first gotten the prepaid cell. It had been short and sweet, and basically just included his new emergency number.
“Not really,” he said, heading for the off-ramp.
She sat back in her seat. Apparently both sisters were sore spots.
He drove down some surface streets, the stores on either side wide open, with big parking lots already filled with cars. They passed every chain imaginable—Walmart, Target, Home Depot—and each one made her sink a little farther in her seat. At home, they had some big stores, but most of those she shopped at were local. She knew the owners. She’d gone to school with the staff. This place was big, and different, and felt as far away as Egypt.
Ahead she could see casinos on the Strip, a riot of color and lights, a mishmash of varying themes. Some of them she recognized from movies—the Luxor, black and glossy, shaped like a pyramid. The Excalibur with its blue and orange spires. Tall white buildings stretched high, while the shimmering gold windows of the Mirage reflected the morning sun.
It was exciting, and nerve-racking, and as they pulled onto Las Vegas Boulevard she was overwhelmed by the traffic, and people—half of them early risers, half of them still wearing what looked like last night’s clubbing clothes.
“Crowded is right,” she said quietly, remembering how Cole had suggested that would make this the perfect place to hide.
“It’s early,” he said. “Just wait until the sun goes down.”
He made it sound like werewolves might be on the prowl. Still, she couldn’t help leaning toward the window, taking it all in. Part of her wished they could just keep going. She wasn’t ready to face this—she’d only just caught her breath from their last escape. Another part wished she were here under different circumstances. That she’d come here for a fun weekend with Cassie, when they could dance and gamble and eat amazing food.
It might not have been so bad coming here with Cole, either, if things were different. If they hadn’t just nearly died. If they weren’t facing imminent doom. If he was just a guy she’d met and she was just a girl who hadn’t been helping his sister hide from the mob.
She looked at Cole, checking the phone again. He’d left more messages for Cassie, but she’d yet to return them. It was something that was weighing on them both now. The bad guys could have smoked her out, like they’d intended to do when they’d burned down the diner. She and Jake could be in their hands now.
No, Garrett had said he hadn’t heard anything, either. He’d know if she’d come back to Ambrose—his house would be the first place she’d go for answers.
That didn’t mean they both weren’t still worried.
Cole pulled into a circular drive in front of a graceful blue glass building, curves like an S, just off the Strip. Aria was dashed in white letters atop the overhang, and bellmen waited in suits to help guests with their bags.
She was instantly aware of her clothing—the T-shirt and jeans she’d left the house in two days ago when they’d run from Ambrose. She hadn’t combed her hair. She didn’t have a bit of makeup on. Normally she wouldn’t have minded, but this was clearly an upscale resort, and these factors just seemed to make her stick out more.
She was relieved when Cole drove past the valet to the parking garage, and picked a spot on the second level. It was warm out, even early in the morning, but the air was dry and thin. Looking outside, she squinted into the bright blue, feeling small. Even the sky seemed different here. Bigger, without all the tall trees at home to lift the horizon.
“One of my employees booked us a room,” he said as he grabbed a duffle bag and a small sack of groceries she’d picked up from the backseat. “That way it won’t be under my name.”
She recalled him making a phone call at one of the rest stops, but figured he’d just been leaving another message for Cassie. The thought of someone else—someone she’d never met—knowing where they were made her nervous.
“You can trust this employee?” she asked as they walked through the garage.
He nodded, holding the elevator door for her to enter first.
“After things with my father . . . let’s just say I’ve been diligent about my hiring processes.”
She bet that was true.
Keeping her eyes low through the lobby, she followed Cole’s long stride to the front desk, keeping back a step as he gave the name Carson Fontierre. While keys were made, she scanned the lobby, feeling too exposed by the floor-to-ceiling-length windows and the glossy tile floors. A display of trees and plants lined a seating area on the opposite side, where men and women in suits conversed. She eyed them warily, knowing it was crazy to think they might know the men who’d attacked her, but vigilant all the same.
She’d never been suspicious of strangers before. She was a people person, for God’s sake. But every second that passed seemed to pull more air from her lungs, and made her more anxious to bolt.
“Ready?”
She startled, staring up into Cole’s deep brown eyes, and felt her heart thud against her rib cage.
“Okay.” She didn’t move.
Slowly, without breaking her gaze, he reached for her forearm, sliding his fingertips down her wrist. When he reached her hand he grasped it within his own, and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Without another word he led her to the elevator bank, not releasing her hand even as he pressed the button to the seventh floor.
She stared at where they touched, centered by that simple gesture. His thumb moved along her index finger, back and forth, soft as a breeze. Heat spread up her arm, her skin warming as if his hand were moving higher, and in that moment she wanted more. Wanted to slip between his arms and press her cheek to his heart. Wanted to feel the roughness of his jaw, and his chest, and his stomach, beneath her fingertips.
She wanted to be held, and savored, and distracted so that she could forget, just for a minute, everything that had gone wrong.
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened before them.
He didn’t let go of her hand until they reached a room at the end of the hall—7117—and opened the door.
“Wow,” she said. She was immediately confronted with two realities. First, that this suite—with its silver-draped windows, glass tables, and lavish artwork—was the nicest hotel room she’d ever seen. And second, there was no way in hell she would have the money to pay him back for this.
“Cole, I can’t . . .”
“Is this all right?” He looked uncertain, and she nearly laughed.
“I guess,” she said. “I mean, if this is all they have.”
He inhaled slowly.
“Cole, it’s bigger than my apartment. And”—she stepped farther inside, feeling her flats sink into the plush white carpet—“I’m embarrassed to say the kitchen is a lot nicer.” What kind of hotel had a full kitchen? Climbing two tile steps, she found herself in front of a glossy black stove. Automatically she began taking stock of the supplies that filled the drawers—utensils, spoons, even some baking equipment were included. On the counter beside the stainless-steel refrigerator were a microwave and coffeemaker, both of which were ten times better than the ones she had at home.
“It’s a corporate rental,” he said. “For people here for long-term business.”
“I could definitely live here long-term,” she said, then realized that wasn’t something she should be joking about. They were here to hide, not to enjoy themselves.
Which reminded her she was halfway across the country with a virtual stranger, and that her restaurant, her family’s legacy, had burned to ashes.
Nerves fizzled in her chest. She’d felt better when he was holding her hand. Now his back hunched slightly, and his expression was guarded again. He’d yet to even set down his bag.
She made her way past the stylish living room to French doors that opened to the bedroom. Atop a sleek black frame sat a huge king-sized mattress, covered by a simple white comforter. On the opposite wall was a closet with mirrored doors, and in their reflection, she could see Cole appear behind her.
Bed. Cole. Mirrors.
Something clenched deep in her belly.
“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he said. He was watching her in the mirror, staring at her in a way that made her skin tingle.
“It’s your place,” she said, trying to sound casual. “You take the bed.”
He looked unsure what to say. Like his brain was in overdrive. She willed him to say something, but he only backed out into the living room, and set his bag on the floor beside a leather chair.
She took a moment to freshen up, realizing quickly there wasn’t much to be done about her car hair without a shower. The marbled bathroom counter was deep and gleaming, and when she imagined Cole’s toothbrush next to hers, she was again struck by the oddness of this situation.
She was hiding in a hotel room with her closest friend’s brother, a man she hadn’t met before he’d shown up at her diner three nights ago. Apart from what she’d gathered from Cassie, she didn’t know anything about him—what exactly in the restaurant industry he did for work, what he liked to do, what he liked to eat. She didn’t even know if he was married, or ever had been. He didn’t wear a ring, but some people didn’t. She didn’t know if he was really as kind, or good, or safe as he seemed to be. She didn’t know him at all.
Maybe she should have taken her chances in Ambrose.
She wasn’t used to feeling out of her element—her grandfather had taught her to roll with the punches. But everything about this was strange.
Using a washcloth, she cleaned her face and lifted her chin.
This was no time to falter. She had to be strong.
Head high, she stepped out of the restroom, finding Cole standing beside the front door. He’d changed his shirt to a steel gray button-down, but his pants were still wrinkled.
“I . . .” He frowned. Rubbed at the wrinkles between his brows. “I need to talk to some people. Check in at work. If I don’t show up my employees will start to wonder if something’s wrong.”
“You’re going back out there? What if the wrong person sees you?” Word would travel that Cole had surfaced here. If the guys who had burned her place knew that she’d gone to the cops, they would certainly track Cole back to his job.
His shoulder lifted in a jerky shrug. “They didn’t kill me before, they won’t now. I’m worth more to them alive.”
She stalked toward him, not believing what she was hearing.
“What’s stopping them from killing you and then taking your money?”
“They’ll need me to get it.”
A shiver moved down her back, and she hugged her arms around her waist.
“I don’t like this, Cole. You’re not even completely awake. You’ve been driving all night.”
“The sooner I talk to some people, the sooner I know who we’re dealing with,” he said. “But in the meantime I’ve got a restaurant to get up and running.”
He wasn’t telling her something. She could see it in his face, in the way he wouldn’t meet her gaze. Again, she was reminded how Cassie hadn’t told him where she was for two years, and that his father was a criminal mastermind.
“Are you okay here?” he asked.
It was impossible to go with him. She needed to stay inside. Lay low. But the thought of him playing normal while she was locked up in a luxurious hotel felt too risky.
“You tell me,” she said.
His brows drew together. He stepped toward her, and then stopped.
“My coworker thinks I’m alone. And if those guys come back, I’ll make sure they know I left you somewhere in Ohio. I won’t sell you out, nobody—”
“I’m not worried about that.” Did he seriously not understand the danger he was putting himself in? “Cole, I’m worried about you.”
He straightened. Cleared his throat.
“Oh,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”
She looked around the enormous suite, thinking what a waste it was for anyone to stay here by themselves. “Okay.”
“I’ll pick up some food and another phone so you can contact me.” He frowned again. “I put Carson’s number on the table in case you need to reach me before then.”
“Okay.”
“Kenzie?”
“Yeah?”
He stood with one hand on the doorknob, that same conflicted expression on his face. She moved closer, watching as his eyes rounded, and lowered to her mouth. With each second that passed, she could hear her heart beat louder in her ears.
“I’ll be back soon.” Without waiting for her to answer, he left, the lock clicking behind him.