SOMETHING BORROWED
Lydia Michaels
Copyright © 2018
Prologue
Baltimore, Maryland
“Mommy, can I have some candy?”
Chloe Hunt watched the last of her items roll down the belt toward the clerk at the grocery checkout, her eyes following the pricey bag of pine nuts as she distractedly wiped her youngest son’s nose. “Not today, Dayton.”
Her three-year-old bounced in the cart. “Please! I’ll draw you a picture.”
Mattie, her one-year-old, babbled and blew raspberries into the air as she moved the cart forward and opened her purse. “I’d love a picture, but no candy today. It’s not on the list.”
“Candy! Candy! Candy! Please, please, please…”
Mattie’s glassy blue stare followed her, anxiety over justifications for the children’s cold medicine already running through her mind. Over the counter was always cheaper than a prescription and trip to the pediatrician but, again, it wasn’t on the list.
“That’ll be ninety-seven twelve.”
Chloe handed the clerk a hundred dollar bill and pushed the cart forward. According to plan, once she had the change in hand she tsked. “Oh, I’m sorry. These are the wrong nuts. Can I return them?”
Her heart hitched behind her ribs as the cash register drawer opened again.
“Wow, that’s a lot of money for a little bag of nuts,” the young clerk commented as she counted out the fifteen dollars and change.
Exactly.
She pressed the money into her palm. Chloe tucked it carefully in her pocket and folded the original receipt into her wallet and lifted the last few bags into the cart. Mattie would likely fall asleep before the car left the lot. She’d give him a dose of the cold medicine once they got to the car.
As she pulled the Volvo into their garage, her gaze flashed to the clock—just under two hours until he came home.
“Don’t wake your brother, Dayton. Go to the couch and I’ll put on Thomas the Tank as soon as I lay Mattie down.”
With the boys situated and the groceries carried in, she caught her breath and got to work. She laid the receipt on the counter where Marcus always looked to review what she’d spent. To think, there was once a time when she’d lived independently, attending college, paying her own bills, organizing her own schedule… But her dreams of ever becoming a therapist and helping others were on hold until she figured out a way to help herself.
Her gaze again went to the clock as she silently pulled down the flour canister, keeping her ears open for her husband’s possible early arrival. Moving to the sink, she set the canister in the basin and sifted the white powder into a large bowl. There, buried on the bottom, was her lifeline. Three hundred and sixty-two dollars, and a white-coated plastic bag of almost ten dollars in change.
Her hands trembled as she shook out the money, counting it yet again, making sure nothing was missing and adding the newest addition. Loading the bills back into the canister, she carefully scooped the flour back on top, rinsing the sink and carefully cleaning the counter. Even a speck of powder could throw her husband into a rage.
With Dayton now napping, she took the stairs quietly, rushing to the master bedroom. The room was pristine, exactly as Marcus preferred it. She walked the perimeter of the room so as not to interrupt the vacuum tracks and went to the back of the walk-in closet.
Last on the hooks was an old designer purse, seemingly empty and unused for some time. She had a plan and this time it was a good one, one even he couldn’t figure out. Old injuries tightened her fingers at the thought of getting caught again. There could be no messing up or he might actually cut her fingers off this time. Her attention skated to the safe in the wall and she shivered. He had all the money a man could need sitting just four feet away. But that wasn’t hers to touch. If she even tried to figure out the code an alarm would go off and he’d be home in minutes. But she knew what he kept in there. He loved opening it and taunting her, polishing his gun and loading it, taking an excruciatingly long time before removing the bullets and locking it back in the safe. She had to get out of here.
Pulling the purse off the hook, she examined the seams and stitching, testing the secret pocket she’d sewn. She should probably cash in some of her ones for some larger bills to save space. She fumbled to replace all the bags exactly as they were and tiptoed out of the room. At the foot of the stairs, she glanced out the window.
Her mind returned to the last time he’d played with his gun, flaunted it like a boy without rules or fears, a rotten brat who loved to terrorize those beneath him, watch them cower and scurry like irrelevant insects under a burning magnifying glass. Just the thought of his deranged laugh caused a cold sweat to break over her skin.
The cold metal teased over her trembling lips. “Open your fucking mouth, Chloe.”
“Marcus…” Tears welled in her eyes as she turned her face toward the pillows, his fingers cutting into her jaw as he smiled like a crazed lunatic above her. “Please…”
His grip tightened, the hard tip of the handgun grazing her temple. “This time, I want you to suck my dick like you mean it. If you can’t, we’ll practice with the gun.”
Her mind slammed away the memory, her hands shaking as if tuning out his remembered words took a chunk of physical strength. Don’t think about that now.
The groceries were put away in a mad dash, leaving her only a few minutes to touch up her appearance and do one last inspection of the house. She doused a paper towel with lemon cleaner, knowing the scent gave the impression of a busy day that only just concluded. She wiped the banister and foyer tables and then went to wake her sons.
“Dayton.” She gently shook her oldest. “Come on, sweetie. Time to get up. Daddy’s going to be home soon. Go potty and comb your hair.”
“I don’t wanna.” He curled back into the couch pillows.
“Come on, honey. You have to clean yourself up.” She shut off the television, resetting the cable box so it wouldn’t show the cartoon channel as last watched and scooped Dayton off the couch. Bending, she fluffed the pillows back into place. “Let’s go wake up, Mattie.”
By the time the garage rattled, dinner was ready and both boys were clean. Bracing her hands on the lip of the counter, she drew in a fortifying breath. The door opened and she stood straight, shoulders back, and smiled. “Welcome home.”
He placed the mail on the counter and lifted the grocery receipt. “Good day?”
“Yes, but Mattie’s getting a cold.”
Her husband glanced at his son who smiled back, his grin forming around the thumb in his mouth. Marcus went to the highchair and removed his hand. “No thumb sucking.” His inspecting gaze turned to Dayton. “How was your day?”
“I’m drawing a train, Daddy.”
Marcus smiled, enough to appease their son, but she recognized the insincerity in his eyes. He had wanted sons so desperately, yet never showed any true interest in their little worlds. Like a spoiled child, her husband wanted her focus to solely revolve around his needs alone and there was no masking his resentment that intensified every time the boys’ needs took precedence over his.
“What is this?”
Her shoulders knotted as he lifted the change from the counter—short a few dollars. “I had to pick up cold medicine for Mattie. It’s on there.”
He examined the receipt with a more critical eye. “What’s for dinner?”
“Pasta with a light pesto sauce, fresh baked bread, and the salad you like.” Normal conversation often brought unpredictable consequences.
He had the outward charm and magnetism of a favored politician but saved none of those efforts for them. At home, he was just mean Marcus, a man with wafer-thin patience and an iron fist. Polished banisters and pristine holiday cards distracted outsiders from the blemishes of reality, camouflaging the misery so plain to see if only one took the time to look beyond the well-manicured facade. But how would they? They, too, were props meant to amuse her husband, the audience that applauded his success, the voices that praised his beautiful family, and the hands that stroked his ego.
Dinner was a quiet affair laced with unspoken tension. It wouldn’t be long. Her mind had only the echo of her adult thoughts to keep her sane, but even that teetering balance had been slipping. She was holding on by a thread.
The following morning started with a ritual of humiliation. “Read it. What does it say?”
Her body shook as she stared down at the scale, Marcus towering over her, ridiculing her for the weight she’d failed to lose since having Mattie almost a year ago.
“I’m trying—”
He scoffed and pivoted away in disgust. “Try harder. I want you on a vegetable diet for the next week. This has gone on long enough.”
She was by no means thin, but she also wasn’t fat. She was five-foot-ten with appropriate curves for a woman of her height. Initially, Marcus adored her figure—or so he pretended.
When she set the table for breakfast he removed her plate from the table. “You’ll have tea.”
She grit her teeth. Coffee was a necessity. He kept her on a rigorous schedule and she’d be dead on her feet by noon if she didn’t have caffeine. But she didn’t argue. He’d be gone soon and she’d make a fresh pot once he left.
Marcus continued to hover as she did the dishes after breakfast. Being as accommodating as possible, making him his favorite eggs and refilling his coffee so it never had a chance to cool, only curbed his chances for an outburst. He’d been angling for a fight since waking that morning.
“Why are you using that cheap, runny dish soap? It’ll take you twice as long to do a simple task like washing a plate,” he snapped.
“It’s eco-friendly—better for the environment.”
He snatched the bottle off the counter. “It’s a scam. Look how much you’re using. Use your head, Chloe. Or do I have to make every decision around here?” He threw the bottle into the sink, an excessive amount of liquid spilling into the basin.
The subtle snap of her tongue to the roof of her mouth was a thoughtless slip, but enough to stop him in his tracks.
“Problem?”
Her breath held as she shook her head.
He crowded closer, his voice scraping over her nerves like a rusty blade. “If you have something to say, say it.”
“It’s fine. You’re right. I’ll go back to the other brand.” Her mind was split between his volatile mood and the silent presence of her sons at the table behind them.
“Pick it up.”
Setting the sponge down, her trembling hand reached for the bottle of green detergent.
Marcus twisted his fingers in the back of her shirt, tightening the material and slowing her progress. “Next time I hear you snap your tongue at me, your mouth will be sore for days. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Wash the dishes.”
The sponge lacked suds as she gave it a squeeze. Too afraid to drive his point home, she wiped the plate without soap. But Marcus saw what she was doing.
“Does that look clean to you? Wash it right!” His hand snapped out and green detergent spewed over the dish, spraying onto her shirt.
She gasped, her breath provoking a clipped snick against her teeth, sounding horribly familiar. The air stilled. “I didn’t mean to—”
The crack of his palm across her mouth rattled her head as pain exploded through her jaw and tears stung her eyes.
“What did I say about talking back? You have something to say now? Huh? Say it again. I dare you.”
“I’m … sorry.”
His eyes narrowed as he glared at her. She glanced at the boys. Dayton’s head was down but Mattie, who didn’t know what was happening, watched them.
“Marcus, please, the boys…”
He seethed and shoved away. Without saying goodbye to the boys, he thrust his arms into his coat and barked, “Clean yourself up. You look like a fat slob.”
A door slammed a moment later, followed by the rumble of the garage door and the sound of his car engine speeding away from the house.
She shut off the water. “You boys finish your breakfast. I’ll be back down in a few minutes.”
As she pulled on a clean shirt she turned and found Dayton watching her, his big, doe eyes curious and sad.
“Hey, kiddo. Is Mattie done eating?” Her false cheer sounded incredibly transparent to her ears. Dayton wasn’t immune to his father’s outbursts.
His lip quivered, as he timidly stood in the doorway of her bedroom looking so small and fragile. “Why did Daddy do that?”
Unable to explain their father’s behavior, she crouched to his height and deflected, “How about we go to the library today?”
But, once in the car, Chloe grew more and more angry about the way her husband treated her in front of their children. At the library, holding Mattie on her hip and distracting Dayton with a book, she used the pay phone to call the only person in the world she could trust.
“Hello?”
“Aunt Regina?”
Regina Wolfe, Marcus’s estranged aunt, was one of the only friends she had left in this world. The older woman’s sigh caused static on the line. “How bad, sweetie?”
She gave a quick summary of the recent incidents with Marcus, but Regina had enough experience with the men in that family to understand it was so much more than soap and a fat lip.
“If you wait until he really explodes, he’ll be watching more closely. How much money have you saved?”
Regina had been married to Marcus’s Uncle Maxwell on his father’s side. Marcus and his uncle had more in common than their genes and portfolios. They shared a penchant for beating women. After Maxwell died, she reverted to her maiden name and cut all ties to the Hunts.
Regina was a godsend. She saw through her nephew’s façade and knew he wouldn’t be an easy man to mislead. Regina had been helping Chloe plan an escape since the day Marcus induced her labor with Mattie by shoving her into a dresser. Thank God she’d been only two weeks ahead of her due date and the baby hadn’t been hurt.
“You’ll have to move fast, Chloe. Don’t worry about clothes. Dress in layers and I’ll have stuff for the boys. We’ll take care of your needs when you get here.” She believed her, recalling promises that Regina would not only feed and shelter her but clothe them and even offer her name—Wolfe—if it made them safer.
Her stomach rolled, thinking back to the last time she tried to run and how vicious Marcus had been when he caught her. “I can’t mess this up. If he catches me…”
“Hush. You aren’t alone. Not yet, anyway. You need to focus and keep moving. Do you have the address I gave you?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t put it in your phone. I don’t understand technology enough to know what can be tracked. You get a map from the library and don’t stop to ask directions along the way. Any trouble, use a payphone and call me. It’s a straight shoot down I-95 until you reach the exit.”
“Okay.” It was happening. He was getting worse and the boys were no longer immune. She couldn’t stand another day under his roof and Regina was right. If he had one of his worst episodes he’d be watching her like a hawk. The time to move was now. She blew out a tense breath. “I’ll need an hour.”
“I’ll be waiting. Be safe.”
The phone clattered into the receiver, shaking with the tremor running through her arm. “Dayton, come on. We have to go.”
When they reached the house she sat Mattie on the carpet and turned on the television. “Keep an eye on your brother.”
“What about lunch?”
“We’re going for a car ride. I’m going to pack something for along the way.”
Rushing through the house, she quickly stuffed diapers into a bag for Mattie, and a few of their favorite toys and a change of clothes. Her heart jackhammered as she dumped the flour into the sink and scrambled to shake clean her money. Change slid down the drain but she caught most of it. White dust coated her hands as she rinsed the sink clean, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the soap.
She made a sandwich for Dayton and packed several snacks in a bag and then raced upstairs. She rummaged through drawers, only selecting essentials that could remain hidden in her purse. Nothing promised this would be a success, so she had to plan for any excuse, should she get caught. She folded the wad of money into the secret pocket and stitched it shut. The nearly ten dollars in loose change would have to last her until she knew she was safe.
She had no items of value aside from her wedding ring and diamond earrings. If she ran out of money, they would be a good safety net.
Dressing in layers, like Regina said, she looked as if she was only planning for inclement weather and perhaps a day at the park. It had to look like that in case this didn’t work and he caught them.
“Okay, boys, TV off. Mattie, come here so I can change your diaper.”
“Where are we going?” Dayton asked.
“It’s a surprise.” She couldn’t risk telling them in case this didn’t work out.
Holding her purse, the diaper bag, and Mattie on her hip, she grasped Dayton’s hand and scanned the foyer one last time. Her eyes prickled with the urge to cry as fear and hope battled in her stomach. This was it. This had to be it.
Her chest hurt as she backed away from the house. She didn’t care about leaving her home or her Williams Sonoma cookware, but it was petrifying to think she’d soon be parting from her boys. Leaving them was her only option. It was the safest way to throw Marcus off their trail, and chances were, he’d know something was up within an hour.
She had no immediate family aside from her children and Marcus. Her parents died in an automobile accident eight years ago, a vulnerable and stupid time in her life when she needed someone to tell her everything would be okay. Sometimes monsters can say the right things—nice things—and appear to be angels. But they’re still monsters in the end.
They’d been happy during those early years. She’d finished her master’s degree in psychology and started on her doctorate by the time they were married. Eventually, her career was pushed aside to start a family, but she didn’t mind because she’d always wanted children. Life was perfect—a beautiful suburban home, two nice cars, a husband that worked hard enough to support the life they wanted, and a baby on the way. Then everything changed.
“Mom, can I have some snacks now?” Dayton called from his car seat.
Chloe took the exit to I-95, heading south toward the Carolinas. Reaching into the diaper bag, she handed Dayton a sandwich and a cup of cereal for his brother.
She was careful to follow the speed limit, but her foot weighed heavily on the gas. When she saw the first sign for North Carolina, her stomach started to cramp. They were almost out of Virginia when her phone buzzed.
Marcus.
He was attuned to every minute of her day and checked in often to make sure she was doing exactly what he wanted done. Some nights he’d lead her through the house, inspecting rooms and her domestic performance, an immaculate white handkerchief in hand. If she’d missed something, she’d pay. If she did a good job, more chores would be added. There was always a consequence and never a reward.
Jaw locked, she seethed behind the wheel. No. More. Consequences.
She’d lost the person she’d once been, become a woman she didn’t respect or recognize. This sniveling wife wasn’t who she was supposed to be. Her background in psychology was enough to diagnose her husband as a sociopath. But if she labeled him it was only fair to label herself, and she despised the idea of identifying her once independent self as a victim.
“Mom, where should I put the trash?”
“Just leave it on the seat for now.”
She was done. She was never going back. This time it had to work. She had to stop thinking she’d get caught and start visualizing her success. She’d be happy again. Free.
The car followed the exit and she rolled down the window. Her vibrating phone flashed with another missed call. No more. Hanging her arm over the edge of the door, the wind pulled at her fist gripping the phone. Her fingers let go and her eyes watched the mirror as the phone hit the asphalt and shattered. There was no turning back now.
Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen played on the radio the second she crossed the state line. She wasn’t superstitious, but it had to be a sign. Her breath trembled in her chest as her vision blurred and she felt the first curve of a genuine smile tighten her lips. This was it. It was really happening.
Regina waited in the parking lot of a Walmart. The poor woman had taken a flight and rented a car to meet them there in time. She handed Chloe a bag and didn’t waste time on formality.
“You take this somewhere with no cameras and use it before you head north again, you hear?”
Chloe nodded, her teetering fear chipping away at the euphoria that guided her this far. She’d never been apart from her boys and letting them go, even for a short while, seemed a gamble she might not survive.
“Mattie has a little bit of a cold, but there’s medicine in his bag. He’s due for more in an hour.”
Regina opened the back door of the rental. “You have everything you need out of your car?”
Chloe nodded, holding her bag and car keys. She kissed her boys, trying not to cry in front of them. “You be good for Aunt Regina. Mommy will be right behind you.”
“Why aren’t you coming with us?”
“Because I have to take care of some things, baby. I’ll get there a few days after you.”
“Where?”
Anxious to leave, but dreading her final goodbye, she kissed Dayton’s cheek again. “A magical place called Pennsylvania. Wait until you see it. They have mountains and snow and playgrounds and everything you like. You’re going to love it.”
“Is Daddy coming?”
“We’ll see.” She swallowed. “You better get moving so you don’t miss the fun. I love you.”
His little arms squeezed tight and she sniffled back her tears. She pressed a kiss into Mattie’s pudgy cheek. “Love you, monkey.”
Thank God Regina was there because she couldn’t find the strength to step away. “Someone told me you boys like trains. If you peek in that bag there you’ll find a surprise.”
Dayton nudged open the bag and gasped. “Thomas! Mom, it’s Thomas!”
Chloe stood and faced Regina. “I can’t thank you enough—”
“Thank me when we know it’s over. For now, you have to go. The bus will be here in a few minutes.” She hugged her tight. “Don’t forget the bag.”
Chloe watched them pull away, a sense of isolation stealing over her so precisely, she questioned if she’d made the wrong choice. Peeking into the bag, she found a box of auburn hair dye. The woman on the package looked so happy.
Her head lifted as the rumble of a bus approached. She drew in a deep breath and tucked the dye into her purse. Looking back at the Volvo, she gave a shaky smile and dropped the keys on the pavement. She had a bus to catch.
****
This couldn’t be happening. Sitting on the public restroom floor of the METRO Subway, Chloe rifled through her bag. Her fingers pierced the hole in the designer fabric, grasping nothing but air. Nausea skated through her stomach, her skin clammy. She emptied the contents of her purse. Cosmetics rolled across the filthy ground as she searched for her money. She squeezed her eyes shut as the urge to vomit swept through her. Gone, it was all gone.
In a city like Baltimore where streets, alleys, and underground railways overlapped thicker than a thatched roof, there would be no retracing her steps. And if she did, the money she’d dropped would already been stolen.
“No...” She crumpled the deflated fabric and flung the useless purse at the stall door.
Her hands slapped the wall, the flat tile surface stinging her palms. What was she going to do? She’d spent days on the road, traveling far south to throw Marcus off her trail only to serpentine her way back north to her goal. But over two hundred miles still separated her from her boys and she had nothing left.
Desperation seeped from her pores. Sifting through her scattered belongings, she found her travel sewing kit. Unable to think beyond the simple task of guiding the needle and thread along the tattered seam, she focused on mending the bag but her relentless trembling made the job almost impossible.
A distant toilet flushed, feet shuffled, and water ran, as strangers moved about the restroom, ignorant to her turmoil. The pull and clunk of paper towels dispensing from the box on the wall punctuated each person’s exit. Normal—nothing like the jagged chaos living in her head.
She bit down on the thread and carefully tucked the needle back into the sewing kit. It was irrelevant how she got to this point. What mattered, the only resounding thought she had, was reaching her children.
She slowly placed her items back into her newly mended bag. Halfway there and only enough money for one phone call and maybe a vending machine dinner.
She fought the urge to cry as she forced herself off the floor. She would not give up. She would not go back. She’d do whatever was necessary to reach her boys and they were going to live the happy life they deserved. Somehow she’d make it to them. She pulled back her shoulders and went to find the nearest payphone.
* * * *
Trenton Cole checked his watch again. What was she doing? Chloe Hunt had been in the subway bathroom for almost an hour. Had she fallen asleep? He wouldn’t be surprised. After tailing her for several days, her journey had even taken a toll on him. This job would have been wrapped up if he’d known where the kids were, but she’d been traveling alone—likely making a roundabout way to the children he needed to return.
Marcus Hunt, a man he’d yet to meet in person, had contacted him soon after growing impatient with the police search for his wife and kids. He’d been hard pressed to calm his impatience, claiming his unstable wife had taken off with his two boys, Dayton and Matthew.
Trent was a man of simple means, working a myriad of jobs revolving around security. Retrieving a human paid a hefty sum and could sustain him for quite some time. Returning three missing people could tide him over for half a year and Hunt was prepared to pay him handsomely.
While playing bounty hunter was an exhausting pain in the ass, it was also financially liberating once the job was done. The astronomical sum of money Hunt offered for the return of his wife and children was impossible to turn down. Sure, Trent felt sorry for the man who worried for the safety of his sons, but he was mostly motivated by the payout.
He secured fifty-thousand up front to more than cover the job’s expenses. Once the money was wired to his account, it was go time and off to the Carolinas he went. But even with such a high bounty, the pace of this specific runner was excruciating.
She’d made her way to the hilly coasts of the Carolina’s—where Trent discovered her abandoned Volvo—and no traces of her or her children. After asking around, he discovered she’d taken a bus west then headed north again—without the children. It was as if they vanished into thin air or never existed at all, but she’d lead him back to the little ones. He just had to be patient.
She’d slept on buses, in fleabag motels, or standing up against walls in narrow alleyways—ripe for the pickin’, but she was no good to him without the two boys. Her journey showed in her wrinkled clothes and ratty appearance. Like most runaways, she’d changed her hair from blonde to brown, but by her pictures, her face was pretty enough to pull off any color—when clean. The longer this merry chase continued the rougher she looked.
Hunt claimed his wife was unbalanced and in need of psychiatric attention. Trent’s personal observations hinted this woman was not so much delusional and unstable as she was driven and scared. As much as she seemed to be running toward her children, she also appeared to be running away from something. But that wasn’t his problem. A hunter that wasted time on the feelings of his prey often failed to take down the target. He never hesitated and he always finished the job. The perfect opportunity would come and he’d get the three of them back where they belonged and have himself a nice, long, needed vacation.
The door to the restroom opened and she finally emerged. Her face was clean of the grime from traveling and her shoulders were set. He threw his cup of coffee in the overflowing mound that was the subway’s trash receptacle and pushed off the wall.
She stopped at a bank of payphones. Her wrinkled clothing was smeared with mud and her hair was limp and lifeless, yet she’d taken the time to apply lipstick to her small, worried mouth—strange. Trembling hands reached for the receiver of the telephone, but hesitated, dropping to her side. He eased closer, wanting to catch the area code.
She took a steadying breath and reached for the phone again, this time pulling it toward her ear. Her dainty fingers with chipped, ruby nails deliberately traveled over the buttons.
Six one zero. Pennsylvania. Bingo
Her hand blocked the rest of the phone number, but he caught the area code. Standing by a cool stone pillar, he listened.
“Regina?”
He made a mental note to mention the name to Hunt. He said she didn’t have family, but maybe this was a girlfriend from college or someone from her past.
“No, I’m okay.” Her head shook wearily. “Actually, I’m not okay.”
She turned to the tracks, doing a brief scan of her surroundings. It was a nervous twitch. He lowered his gaze to his phone and watched her through the reflection of a glass partition, noting the way her unsteady fingers seemed to brush a tear from her cheek.
“My money’s gone. I lost it all. There was a hole in my bag. I’m using my last dollar to call you.” She listened for a few seconds. “No, I won’t call him. There’s no going back now. If he ever finds me he’d beat me within a breath of my life. I’ll just have to… I’ll figure something out. How are the boys?”
Trent’s shoulders tensed at her words, so belied by her expression when a smile trembled to her lips. Unstable? Or was it the mention of her sons that pushed that grin? Either way, the expression didn’t hold. She had to be exhausted. Maybe he could use her desperation against her, offer her a ride and convince her—as an uninvolved outsider—that getting back to Virginia was best. How kind of him to be willing to drive her both ways.
His mind already worked over reasons why he’d be heading to Pennsylvania only to shoot back south again. Usually, when people were this rundown their logic took a hit, so he shouldn’t need too solid of an explanation. He just needed to make her believe he was on her side—without his height and bulk working against him.
Just under seven feet, cut muscle defined even through his clothes, he wasn’t exactly screaming, Hey, little girl, you’ll be safe with me. The scar on his face and tattoos on his arms didn’t help either. Luckily his clothes hid a good amount of his markings. And as a generally laid back guy, he’d mastered the gentle-giant thing. But even the gentlest giant could terrify a scared kitten. It wouldn’t be easy getting her to trust him, so he’d have to play on her desperation.
“Make sure Dayton’s taking his vitamins. If he gives you a hard time, try the pink Flintstones. He likes them best. And if Mattie’s teeth are bothering him, there’s some Oragel in the inner pocket of the diaper bag. Just rub a little on his gums every few hours. How’s his cold?”
He frowned at her concern, so selfless for a woman in her situation—out of money and far from the end of her journey. What drove her? Fear? Vengeance?
Again he chastised himself for being so curious about the irrelevant facts. This was a kidnapping case. She stole two innocent children and their father wanted to find them. No parent, no matter what the situation, had a right to flee with the children.
There were ways to legally exit a marriage and this wasn’t it. She was breaking the law and he was hired to return a man’s children. Just because she was the mother didn’t give her the right to steal another man’s kids. End of story. He couldn’t waste time in the gray areas. The law was black and white and his work insisted he abide it.
This was a job. All feelings needed to take a backseat so he could get paid and get back to his own life.
Those boys were definitely with this Regina person. Finally, he was making progress. But, again, her concerns didn’t seem to be the concerns of an unstable mother. As a matter of fact, her comments were rather selfless for a woman who lived on nothing but faucet water and vending machine food for several days. Something wasn’t adding up and it pissed him off that he wanted all the pieces of the puzzle.
She hung up the phone and pressed her forehead to the filthy metal plate covering the wall. Her shoulders shook, as if from the force of unbearable grief. Her words replayed in his mind and he shoved his sympathy away. He had a job to do and his method had never failed him. This wasn’t emotional. It was business.
Schooling his expression, he took a step toward her. She was a paycheck. That was all. Her personal problems were none of his concern. But damn it, why did she have to cry? This was why he needed to get back into security and out of the bounty hunting business. It was fucking draining.
He slowly approached, not wanting to alarm her by his size and presence, which often caught women off guard no matter how calm his mannerisms. He waited for her to notice him. When she didn’t, he cleared his throat.
“Excuse me, ma’am, are you all right?”
She turned and clutched her purse tight to her chest, her back pressing into the payphone. Shit. So much for making a good first impression.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just, you look like you could use some help. Are you stranded? I’m heading to Pennsylvania and would be more than happy to give you a lift if you’re heading in that direction. My name’s Trenton Cole.”
He held out his hand in introduction but she didn't move to touch it. Her brown eyes formed big circles. He dropped his arm to his side.
“Do you need help, ma’am?”
Squaring her shoulders, she lifted her chin, hiding away any signs of fear with an off-putting practiced ease. “I need money.” She twisted a knob of a diamond ring off her finger and held it out. “I have this I can sell you.”
He frowned and she huffed, her hands moving to her ears and plucking off two diamond studs. Opening her palm, she again held the stones out to him. “What will you give me for these? They’re platinum and the diamonds are real.”
Any normal person would take the jewelry, but he’d rather get paid for a job well done. “I’m sorry. I don’t have that kind of money on me—”
“I’ll take whatever you can spare. You surely have twenty dollars on you. I need to get to my children and I lost the last of my money.”
“I can’t take your jewelry, miss. I have a car. I could offer you a ride, but I won’t take your jewelry.”
“The last man who offered me a ride required a payment I couldn’t abide. He dumped me on the side of the road when I refused to give him what he wanted in exchange. I’d rather pay for my transportation with cash.”
“I don’t need any payment. I just don’t like seeing a woman upset and alone. I want to help you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “No man expects nothing for something. There’s always a cost.”
“I give you my word I only want to take you where you need to go, to your children.”
Skepticism danced in her untrusting eyes. “Why are you going to Pennsylvania?”
“I live there. I’m only in Maryland on business.” He just needed to get her in his truck. He could figure out the rest later.
“What is it you do—Mr. Cole, was it?”
“I’m in security.”
Her gazed traced down his body and remained still for her inspection. There was no hiding his frame under his gray thermal shirt, so he opened his palms in a gesture he hoped translated to non-threatening.
“Maybe this will help.” He reached for his wallet and removed a photograph. “These are my sisters and their children. I’m a good man, miss. I’ve never been arrested and I got a truck outside with an empty seat for anyone that needs it. I can’t, in good conscience, leave you abandoned here.” He held up a Pennsylvania driver’s license. “That’s my name and address.” He smiled awkwardly, mimicking the staged smile on his ID.
Her gaze jerked to the cash in his wallet. “Then take my ring and give me some money so I can be on my way.”
He considered her for a minute. “And what happens when the money runs out? I’d spend the rest of my life wondering what happened to the woman I found crying in the subway. How about this… You keep your ring, as I’m sure your husband would wonder what happened to it, and I’ll give you thirty dollars plus a ride to your children.”
“I don’t have a husband. The ring means nothing to me.”
But she didn’t seem as eager to give away the earrings. Odd, since they weren’t as nice. Pinching thirty dollars between his fingers, he glanced at his watch and folded his wallet, into his pocket. “No more trains are running to Pennsylvania tonight. This isn’t enough for a motel in this area. Let me help you. What part of Pennsylvania are you heading to?”
She hesitated. “New Castle.”
Perfect. He was familiar with the area. “I could get you to your children in a few hours.”
She noticeably processed that information and he felt her resistance weakening, so he pushed his tempting offer.
“By car, you could see them tonight.”
Her hands lowered, fisting the jewels in her palm. He’d strangle his sisters if they ever accepted a ride from a stranger in a subway. It was good sense to say no. But there was something else in her rejection. Something that told him this woman didn’t trust anyone.
“I have a cell phone. You can hold it the entire way and call 911 if at any time you feel threatened.”
Her mouth twisted. “Those numbers only save people who actually get through. If you wanted to hurt me that phone wouldn’t be enough to stop you.”
There was a sad sort of wisdom in her eyes, something that told him she knew this from experience, something that, again, complicated his job. “I just want to get you home.”
The words might have registered as reassurance, but he was repeating his objective so he could remind himself what he was there to do. Get her home and get paid.
But he also wasn’t a bad guy, so he added, “I have no intention of hurting you, miss.”
Exhaling, she wedged the ring back on her finger and clasped the diamonds to her ears. “I’d be very grateful for your help.”
“My truck’s parked in the garage across the street.”
She didn’t walk beside him. Rather, she stuck about two paces behind, which was fine if it made her feel safer. They rode in silence. After days of traveling by bus and on foot, it seemed impossible for her to hold a rigid pose after the first ten miles. As she relaxed so did he.
He figured he should start working on the next step of his plan—building her trust. “Mind if I ask what you were doing in Maryland when your kids are all the way in Pennsylvania?”
Her answer was slow, following another long appraisal of him. “They’re staying with a relative until I can reach them.”
Not true. She had no living relatives according to her husband. What other lies would she tell? “You got girls or boys?”
“Boys.”
A point for honesty. “Older? Boys can be a handful.” He laughed. “But my sisters were no joke growing up. I guess it depends on each kid.”
“Do you have children of your own?”
The more he got her to open up the more she’d let down her guard. “Nope. No kids for me. But I’m the favorite uncle. Why not travel together?”
“We needed to move quickly and I could travel faster without them.”
His brow pinched as another unsettling comment joined the others he’d pushed away. He kept it light, purposefully ignoring her implication that she might be escaping. “Seems to me, for as fast as you say you can travel, they beat ’cha there.”
She responded to his teasing with cold realism. “I didn’t have a choice. I had to take a longer route.”
Making light of things wasn’t winning him any points. He switched up his indifference to concern. Perhaps she’d be more responsive to protectiveness. “You running from someone, ma’am?”
Again, she appraised him, her words tumbling out with a bit of force. “I’m going after the life I deserve. I prefer to think of it as running toward a happy future—for myself and my children.”
Though she was guarded, Trenton was shocked how easily she gave up telling details. Although she lied about not having a husband, she seemed to offer genuinely honest answers about her situation when she didn’t dodge his questions altogether. But that sort of information would make no difference in the end.
“You said you don’t have a husband. Is that because you aren’t married or because you don’t want to be married anymore?”
When she didn’t answer right away, he glanced her way. She was staring at him, eyes wide. Afraid he might’ve ruined their fragile rapport he quickly apologized. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.”
They sat in silence for several minutes and he cursed himself for getting too familiar too fast. He was tired. Otherwise, he would have chosen his words more carefully.
When she finally responded, her voice was small and introspective. “It must be different, being as big as you are, never having to be afraid of anything or anyone.”
Surprised she broke the silence, he slowed down and responded with open an ended comment, letting her fill in the blanks. “Everyone’s afraid of something.”
“Maybe. But I don’t think a man your size can imagine what it feels like to live every moment of your life in fear. That’s what my life was like, Mr. Cole. I have no choice but to remain vigilant, unsure if the rules are going to change again. I forget what happiness feels like, but I remember enough to know life shouldn’t be this miserable.”
His chest tightened. She didn’t seem crazy or unbalanced. Just sad. He hated thinking what sort of life might do that to a woman. He hated the idea of stealing away her hope of happiness to return her to misery.
“Your boys must make you happy.”
“I can’t enjoy my children without being punished. I’ve always wanted to be a mother, but I’m not raising my children the way I dreamed I would. I can’t. Not there. I’ve been a wife for seven years, but as far as having a husband, a partner, a normal marriage… Well, I have no idea what that’s like.”
“Your husband scares you?”
“My husband’s a demanding man. He had a good side at one time. I wouldn’t have married him otherwise. He provided for us in a way I can’t criticize but, as the years went on, it turned out he didn’t need a wife as much as he needed a maid or a vessel to bear his sons.” She turned to face the window, muffling her words, but he caught the almost inaudible whisper. “…and a whipping post.”
Taking his eyes off the road, he gauged the sincerity of her words. The truth was there in her tired face. “Did you ever go to the police?”
“There were a lot of nice looking people in that picture you showed me. Are they all your sisters?”
Recognizing her diversion and accepting it, he nodded. “One is my sister’s partner—sort of a sister-in-law—but I’m equally protective of all of them.”
“What would you do if a man you trusted pushed one of them around? Some men hit women but it isn’t always the punches that hurt most.”
His gut twisted at her casual use of the word punches. He didn’t want to imagine his sisters ever having to deal with that kind of treatment or any woman for that matter. “I’d probably wind up in jail myself.” Because he sure as fuck would slaughter anyone who hurt those he loved.
“But revenge doesn’t erase abuse. The only solution is escape. And the baggage is heavy because most disparaging remarks cut too deep to heal. Feeling worthless, hopeless, and like a failure, after you’ve done your best makes that sort of baggage all the more difficult to carry. It breaks a person. I’m very lucky that I’ve broken away. But even I know this isn’t a true escape. It’s just borrowed time until I figure out a better plan.”
This was a bad idea. He shouldn’t care about these details. She kidnapped her kids. That was against the law. Period. If he could get her to admit there was a better way to start over he could possibly get rid of the sick feeling filling his gut every time he imagined hauling her back to Virginia.
“Why not file for divorce and do things legally so you get the law on your side? I’m guessing your husband doesn’t know where you are.”
“Court ordered paperwork won’t change who he is. He’d never let me walk away. I had no choice but to run and I have to succeed. The last time I tried and he caught me…”
He glanced at her as she went silent, her unblinking eyes seeming to see something no one else would ever witness. She drew in a deep, slow breath and faced him.
“By now I imagine he’s hired someone to find us. All I can hope is that I threw him off our trail and that I make it to my children before he does. I don’t have any money and I have very little hope, but if I go back there...” Her head turned, her stark eyes reflecting on the drizzle of the passenger window. “I can never go back.”
There was quiet resignation in her voice, but also determination. Why had he accepted this assignment? This woman wasn’t crazy. Somehow she’d had the foresight to get her children someplace safe to protect them. Or was she feeding him a line of bullshit? Someone was lying to him and it pissed him off that his instincts said it wasn’t her. Damn it.
Pushing away the unsavory wave that soured his stomach, he mentally questioned her honesty. If she was actually telling the truth, the disappointment in her eyes once he usurped her chance at freedom might haunt him forever.
They’d cross that bridge when they got to it. “Well, it looks like you will be seeing your boys soon. We’re crossing over to Pennsylvania in the next mile.” No need to mention she’d be getting hauled back to Virginia.
He thought it best to stop talking for a while and she didn’t seem to mind the silence. As they neared the town of New Castle, she could barely keep still in her seat. She fidgeted with her bag and ran her hand over the wrinkles in her shirt.
As they approached the exit, Trent found himself slowing down to just below the speed limit, reluctant to get to the next part of his plan. “You nervous?”
“I’m something. You have no idea how much I had to go through to get here, Mr. Cole. I can’t thank you enough for keeping your word and delivering me to my children.”
He said nothing, guilt souring the words on the back of his tongue. They pulled in front of a medium-sized home, tucked safely away in the suburbs of New Castle.
The light on the porch flickered and she scrambled to undo her seatbelt. He had to make a move soon. Fuck. He wasn’t a bad guy but at the moment he felt like Lucifer himself.
It’s just a job. Do it and go home to your family. You need this payout.
Her breath hitched as an elderly woman opened the front door and a small child in footie pajamas burst onto the porch.
“Mommy!”
She sprang out of the truck and raced across the lawn, pulling the boy into her arms with surprising strength being that she appeared weaker than a tattered string. The older woman carried a toddler on her hip. Taking the youngest in her arms, she pressed kisses into his pudgy cheek.
Trent sat frozen with his hand on the door, watching the scene play out, paralyzed by crushing ethical awareness. He cursed under his breath as the older son wiped tears from Chloe’s face and asked why she cried. The older woman wiped her wrinkled cheeks and smiled.
He didn’t belong here. This was a private moment and one he wished he didn’t have to see.
Chloe turned and smiled at him, her open hand resting over her chest. She no longer looked like the weathered, desperate woman from the subway. Happiness hid every ounce of fear he’d observed over the journey.
She said something to the woman and turned back to the truck, taking a step in his direction. His foot lifted off the brake and her smile fell, confusion knitting her brow as he eased away from the driveway. He didn’t deserve her thanks because he wasn’t her friend. His intentions were tarnished. Let her live with whatever memory she wanted, but he refused to accept gratitude for misleading her.
He also refused to help a man who would hurt a family like that. Hunt could find someone else to track down his wife. She could be a raving lunatic of a wife for all he cared. But he believed she was a good mother and was doing what she believed best for those two boys.
He beat himself up as he drove away, wavering between going back and letting her go. “Fuck!” So much for taking the rest of the year off. Why was the right choice always the fucking hardest?
He never did anything half ass. So he intended to see his new solution through. He’d be sure to let her husband know he lost her and the kids crossing the border to Mexico. Hunt would likely hire someone else, but Trent could at least see that she got a decent head start to a peaceful life, a happy life like she wanted. God, he hoped he made the right choice and took the right parent’s side.
As he shifted lanes, something sparkled on the dashboard. Pristine and abandoned, her ring, nestled between two diamond studs, sat on the thirty-dollars he’d given her. He plucked up the cash and held it in his hand for the next ten miles. It wouldn’t pay his bills, but it certainly helped him accept he’d made the right decision in the end.