Liz and Scarlett arrived at Tozier Track about a half an hour later. Henry was already there waiting near the parking lot.
Scarlett ran at him full force and jumped into his arms, showering him with kisses. A stray reporter snapped a couple pictures of the pair that had once been known as “the star-crossed rivals.” Most everyone had moved on, but articles about Scarlett and Henry still popped up on fan blogs every so often.
“Hi, Liz,” Henry mumbled, setting Scarlett back down onto her feet.
She gave him a quick hug. It was funny to think of how vehemently she’d hated him just over a year ago. Back then, everyone had thought Henry took after his wicked grandfather, Henry Mitchell Sr. Only Scarlett had been willing to give him a chance—to see something more.
“Been here long?” she asked.
Henry shrugged. “Twenty minutes or so. The first racers should be coming in soon.”
“Who’s favored to win?” Scarlett asked, putting on her game face. Although she’d chosen not to race anymore, she still loved the sport with everything she had.
“Dallas, I think. But I know never to bet against a Ramsey.”
“That’s right!” Scarlett said proudly. During her year of racing, she’d stayed with Shane and Lauren Ramsey, cementing their already rock solid friendship.
“Is Lauren running today?” Liz asked.
“I think so,” Henry answered. “But they may have…”
Henry continued to speak, but Liz no longer heard his words. It was as if all the sound had been sucked from the scene. Her heart pounded in her ears as Dorian stepped out from his truck and onto the gravel lot below.
“Hey, it’s that guy from the wedding!” Henry said, breaking the silence. “The one who was going through your purse.”
“I can explain.” Dorian approached with his hands out in front of him. Even though Henry had proven himself to be kind-hearted many times over, people still tended to act cautiously around him. And Liz felt far safer having him here today.
“Can you?” Liz asked with an emboldened laugh. She was so sick of people stringing her along, lying to her, acting as if she didn’t deserve to know the truth about her own life. “Can you really?”
“C’mon, babe. Let’s give them some time to talk.” Scarlett tugged on her fiancé’s arm and led him over to the finish line. She didn’t know the full story—heck, Liz didn’t either—but Liz had filled her in on some of the finer points during their drive over.
Dorian stood at her side as they both watched Liz’s friends walk away into the gathering crowd. “I heard about what happened last night,” he said when they were fully alone.
Liz felt all the rage of yesterday build up in her once again. “You mean that Warwick broke into my house? That he tried to hurt me? That he did hurt my dad?”
Dorian frowned and looked away. “He wouldn’t hurt you.”
“How can you say that? You weren’t there.” Why had Dorian come if he still planned on being evasive? Would he finally work up the courage to tell her something more? She doubted it. Doubted him.
“Trust me. He wouldn’t hurt you.”
“Every time you tell me to trust you, it makes me suspect you more. Why are you here?” She had no time for games or false assurances. What had happened last night scared her more than she cared to even admit to herself. She needed answers, or she needed to move on.
Dorian, however, had something else in mind. “To apologize.”
Liz waited. An apology wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
He sighed. “I’m so sorry I got you into this mess, that I led him to you.” Well, that was unexpected.
Liz widened her eyes as if doing so would help her see better, help her to understand better, too. “You… you’re working with Warwick?”
“Was. I quit last Wednesday.” Dorian kicked at the gravel in the lot. Why was he avoiding her gaze again?
“But that was before the hotel with Victoria,” she said softly.
“I know.” He looked up at her for a moment, then back toward the track.
Liz moved into his line of sight, hoping a kind face would shake out the words he was struggling to hold back. “What happened on Wednesday?”
“Look, I can’t tell you everything, but I need to tell you enough to keep you safe.” His voice came out slow, hurried, almost like a whisper.
Liz almost couldn’t believe what she’d heard. If she got him to admit one thing, she could get him to tell her more. But one serious problem remained. She didn’t trust him and didn’t know if she ever could. She crossed her arms and shook her head. “How do I know what’s true and what’s a lie?”
“Can we start over?” His emerald eyes looked so full of hope, as if they could forget the terrible ways their lives had intersected this past week and a half.
“If that’s what it takes.” She waited as he took a few deep breaths, cleared his throat, worked up the nerve.
“My name is Dorian Whitley. I’m a reporter for the Anchorage Daily News. It doesn’t pay very well, so sometimes I take side gigs.”
Liz shivered, inherently knowing he was about to make a major revelation. “What kind of side gigs?”
“I find people. I found you.”
Now things were starting to make sense, but she needed more. “For Warwick? But why?”
“It’s not my place to say.”
“I need to know, Dorian. Please tell me.”
He hesitated before grabbing each of her hands and holding them in his. “I want you to know, but I can’t be the one to tell you.”
“Because of the NDA?” She hated that he’d considered that stupid piece of paper more important than her family’s safety, especially considering what had transpired on Saturday night. If he’d just told her…
“No, because it will hurt you,” he whispered, almost afraid to speak the words aloud.
“You said Warwick wouldn’t hurt me,” she reminded him.
“I don’t think he will, but the secret that brought him here…” Dorian bit his lip, cutting off the rest of the sentence she so desperately wanted to hear.
“Why are you trying to protect me? You don’t even like me.”
“That’s not true,” he said emphatically. “I tried so hard not to, but everything about you, Liz. You’re my perfect girl.”
Another unexpected twist. In less than two weeks, Dorian had gone from arrogant reporter to psycho stalker to unexpected friend to… a romantic suitor? This was absurd. Even more absurd was the fact that she didn’t hate the idea. Not just because she could use his feelings to find out more, but also because he did genuinely seem to care. He seemed closer to helping her find the answers to her problems than even her own father. “You said I wasn’t your type.”
“Because you’re the subject of an investigation. It’s not ethical. I could—”
“You were mean to me. You stalked me. You insulted me every chance you got.”
“I didn’t know what kind of man Warwick was until… When I found out, I started following you to keep you safe. In case he…”
Liz couldn’t handle this. Dorian’s revelations only heightened the tension between them. She needed him to stay focused, to do whatever it was he came here to do. “Please finish a sentence already!” She hadn’t meant to sound cruel, but her tolerance was quickly falling away like sand in an hourglass.
Dorian fixed his gaze on her once more, hardly blinking as he said, “Liz, I told him he got it wrong. Told him you weren’t the one he was looking for. I tried to alter the DNA reports before he could see them. I—”
“DNA! How did you get my DNA?”
“From your hairbrush. The night of the party. I tried at the wedding, but couldn’t get a good sample.”
“I can’t believe this.” Another confession. Another terrible invasion of privacy. What more was he hiding? How much crazier could this thing get? This was not Liz’s world. Not her life. She wanted things to go back to the way they had been, but knew that would never happen now. For all the awful things Dorian had already revealed, he was holding back the worst truths in an attempt to protect her.
He blinked hard, frowned. “You don’t have to believe it, but it’s the truth.”
“You say you like me, but you led a psycho straight to me. You stole my DNA. What else have you done?”
“Nothing else, I swear. And with Warwick, I thought I was helping you. I didn’t know…”
“Okay, so say I believe everything you’ve said so far. You’re still leaving out the most important piece of information. Who is Warwick, and why did he hire you to find me?”
“I can’t tell you. It’s not my place.”
He’d already told her far more than she knew that morning. If only she could find a way to learn more. “But—”
“I’m sorry!” he called, jogging back to his truck and leaving her behind. “Please don’t hate me.”
Liz shivered. She felt many things in that moment, but hate was not one of them. Could she change Dorian’s mind?