Chapter Four
Tampa
Peter was in a rage. Too many days had ticked away since the night Kathryn made her unexpected appearance at the office and disappeared with the key to his life. Two very long weeks, and they were no closer to finding her and the tiny memory stick.
He looked up at Miguel Osuna, the ever-present reminder of his situation, and slammed his hand on his desk. “God damn it, I don’t know what she was doing here that night. I’ve told you that again and again. She was supposed to be at home.”
That was the unanswered question. Why had Kathryn decided to show up with no warning? Whatever the reason, she’d run smack into a conversation not meant for her ears. Because of that a copy of the entire operation was now missing.
Every day Miguel materialized at his office to ride his ass about Kathryn’ disappearance and the loss of the flash drive. The daily process never varied. The questions. The accusations. The threats.
Peter ground his teeth in frustration. Frantic was not a usual part of his personality, but right now he was as close to it as he could get. Running the business operation for the powerful Osuna cartel had its benefits but also put him in a vulnerable position.
“Most unfortunate that she heard us discussing her future,” Miguel pointed out yet again.
“Or lack of it,” Peter said, tossing a pencil he’d been fiddling with onto his desk.
Miguel raised an eyebrow. “The fact she also heard us mention the flash drive and made off with it is what makes this whole situation so volatile. A woman whose life is in jeopardy will use any advantage that comes to her. And unfortunately for you, we gave her one as a gift.”
“I shouldn’t have waited to get rid of her.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “You were right about that.”
Miguel’s face was like stone. “That’s correct. I urged you to get it done and over with.”
“You know the reasons for it, though,” Peter reminded him. “So many deaths, coming one right after the other…”
“Nevertheless, you have made an unforgivable error, Pedro. And because of that Kathryn Burke has disappeared with something that could destroy us all. If we hadn’t heard her and chased her to the garage, we might never known she has it. You’d find it gone, and we’d all be screwed. Unfortunately, she was too quick for us and now she’s gone.”
“We’ll find her.”
“You’d better be right about that. You know what’s on the line.”
Peter dropped into his chair and raked his fingers through his hair. Rage at the situation Kathryn had put him in surged through his system. “I’ll kill that fucking bitch when I get my hands on her.”
“If is the operative word,” Miguel snapped. “Not when. I wouldn’t count on anything at this point. It seems Miss Burke isn’t quite as manageable as you thought. And how did you not know she still had a set of her father’s keys?”
“It never came up. I thought the set I took from her was the only one.” Peter grimaced as he forced out the words. He hated admitting failure of any kind.
“Your lapses in judgment will cost us dearly. You have much to answer for.” Miguel’s voice had the sharp sound of the executioner’s axe. “You’ve put us all at risk. Our entire operation. This is the result of stupid carelessness.”
The air in the office was thick with tension. For the first time in his adult life, Peter Fleming knew what fear was.
He scrubbed his hands across his face. “At least the files on the flash drive are encrypted.”
“And a damn good thing. Consider yourself lucky that she didn’t take any of the hard copy files with her, which aren’t so protected,” Miguel pointed out.
“I’ll find her. Count on it.”
“We’ll find her.” Miguel pulled a cell phone from his pocket.
Peter stuck his jaw out belligerently. “What does that mean? Your men missed her twice already. What more do you think you can do that I can’t?”
“I’m calling in my contacts everywhere. Everyone who owes me a favor. It’s time to pay up. I want every corner of this country searched.” He punched in a number, and in a moment began speaking in rapid Spanish.
“She can’t have gone far,” Peter told him when he hung up. “She hasn’t the experience or the guts to figure out how to hide herself away. Luck. That’s what she’s had. She’ll run out of it sooner or later.” He tried furiously to think of what to do next.
Miguel stabbed a finger at him. “I hold you completely responsible for this. There will be consequences, once I report everything.”
Then, thankfully, before Peter could frame a reply, he was gone with his bodyguards closing ranks behind him. Peter slumped back in his chair, rubbing his temples. Hell and damnation. He’d planned so carefully for everything. How had it fallen apart like this?
****
Somewhere in Texas
“Quinn what? Is that a first name or last?” Kate tried to keep her gaze away from his thighs and the muscles flexing under the soft denim.
“Just…Quinn. That’s good enough.” When she didn’t comment, he said, “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“When someone tells you their name, it’s customary to give them yours.” A tiny rough edge of humor colored his words.
“Oh.” She twisted her fingers together. “I’m Kate. Kate Griffin.”
“Well, Kate Griffin, you’ll be a lot better off at this motel than out on the highway. As soon as you get inside take a long hot, shower. Do you have anything warm to wrap up in?”
“Um, I think so.” Actually, she was shivering so badly she could hardly think at all.
“You have to get warm, or you’ll get sick. While you register, I’ll call my friend Mike to tow your car to his garage. Tomorrow, we’ll see what needs to be done.”
“Exactly where am I, anyway?” she asked. They’d exited the highway and were driving into a small town.
“Welcome to Windswept,” Quinn said, sardonic humor edging his words. “People say one day the wind swept through and when it left, there was the town.”
Kate stared out the window, but it was dark and she was too fatigued, waterlogged, and cold to make much sense of anything. In a few minutes, Quinn wheeled the truck up under the archway of a two-story limestone building. A sign hanging from it had the legend “Windswept Inn” sandblasted into it.
“Must be a busy place,” she commented. The parking area was filled with cars, pickups, and motorcycles.
“The Inn’s been around a long time,” he told her as he jumped down from the truck. “They have a lot of repeat customers.”
He jogged to the passenger side and opened her door. She clung to the blanket as he helped her down. When his hand touched hers, the strangest feeling stole through her.
Safe.
She mentally shook herself because, really, no place was safe, but when he dropped her hand the feeling didn’t disappear. Her mind was turning somersaults. What was happening here?
“I need my tote bag,” she told him.
He handed it to her, and she followed him toward the entrance, feeling like a leftover from a cat fight. Her clothes were still damp, but warmed by the heater in the truck, they stuck to her like a second skin. Her hair, cut more for serviceability than style, straggled around her face. She used the fold of the blanket to cover the fanny pack, which the shirt in its bedraggled condition could no longer disguise.
“I have to know about my car,” she reminded him.
She was already feeling helpless and vulnerable, the panic working its way through her again. She couldn’t just hang around to see what happened. Give Peter time to root her out.
“I said I’ll take care of everything,” he told her, “and I will. While you get registered, I’ll get that pile of junk towed. Then you need a hot shower and a good night’s sleep. Which it doesn’t look as if you’ve had for a while, by the way.”
Sleep. He was so right about that. For days she hadn’t closed her eyes except for brief periods. Even when she napped on the bus, she was never fully at rest, and it was catching up with her. The fatigue that had grabbed her on the highway washed over her again. A full night’s rest beckoned so invitingly.
Wait! Was she crazy, trusting this complete stranger? She’d just spent days running away from the last man she trusted, a man she knew a lot better than this one, and look how that had worked out.
She nibbled her lower lip. “I’m not sure…”
Not sure she should put herself in the hands of a stranger? He couldn’t be any worse than someone she knew.
“Jesus.” He rubbed his hand over his face, as if wiping away his own weariness. “Are you for real? Can we please not argue about this anymore?”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. Let me go take care of business.” The last thing she needed right now was for him to get mad at her. She was disintegrating bit by bit. The necessity of staying alive and keeping ahead of the hunters had been the glue that held her together, had formed who she was now, Kate Griffin, and Kate Griffin didn’t come undone. Couldn’t afford to.
The minute they entered the lobby, Kate was slammed by a blast of frigid, artificially-cooled air, and she began shivering harder.
Quinn cast a studied eye at her and pulled the blanket tighter around her. “Come on. I’ll talk to Anna for you.”
The motel lobby was small but neat and clean. Leather furniture was scattered over terra cotta tiles, and two tall cactus plants guarded the entrance. The woman behind the counter smiled as they approached.
“Brought you a stray, Anna. Got a single she can have?”
“I think I might just have one tucked away,” she grinned. “It’s Key to the Hills Race Week, and everyone’s jammed, but I always hold one or two rooms back.”
“Great. We’ll take one.”
Kate, who had been standing next to Quinn shivering in her damp clothes, turned as the door to the lobby swished open, and nearly fainted. Oh, Holy Mother, they can’t have found me again. So soon. In this godforsaken place.
Two unsmiling men, dressed in jeans and T-shirts rather than suits, were advancing on the desk, eyes focused on her. It didn’t have to be them. It could be just two strangers here to see the race, but she couldn’t take any chance.
“I have to get out of here,” she whispered to Quinn. “Right this minute.”
He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Get out of here? Why?”
“I just do. Please. Don’t ask any questions.” She tugged on his arm and headed to the hallway off the lobby. “And don’t leave me, okay?”
“Kate, what’s going on?” He hustled along with her.
She literally ran for the truck, threw herself inside, and locked the door.
“Lock your door, too,” she told Quinn as soon as he climbed inside. “Can we get out of here? Right now?”
She was shaking so badly she could hardly get the words out. He turned on the ignition and flipped on the heater again, then sat behind the wheel staring through the windshield at the rain dripping off the motel. There was tension in every line of his body.
He’s probably wondering why the hell he ever stopped in the first place, trying to figure out how and where to dump me.
“Can we just go? Please?” Before those men come back out here.
Quinn looked at her once, then cranked the engine and backed out of the parking lot.
“You want to tell me what this is all about?” he asked when they were back on the highway.
“I…I thought I recognized those two men. I-I’m trying to get away from a bad situation and I thought…someone…had sent them.” She hugged her arms around her body, the chill still knifing through her.
Bad situation. Boy, that’s the truth.
Quinn sighed. “Okay. The next town’s only thirty miles away. It’s bigger so they’ll probably have a room.”
Thirty miles away. With no car. Her own about to be towed to some stranger’s garage. And who was to say they couldn’t follow her there.
“Are you married?” she asked.
The look of pain that flashed briefly across his face stunned her, but he shook his head. “No. I live alone.”
“Then will you take me home with you?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. How insane was that, asking to go home with a man she’d known for five seconds. And she didn’t even know where he lived.
But there was something so solid about him, so strong. Not a man to be cowed by Peter’s thugs. She didn’t know how she knew that, but she did. She held her breath as she waited for his answer.
“You want to tell me exactly what kind of trouble I’d be bringing into my home?”
“It’s a long story.” She sighed. “Very long. But if you can just give me a place for tonight and help me with my car tomorrow, I’ll be out of your hair and you’ll forget I was even here.”
The next five minutes stretched out like hours for Kate as Quinn drove in silence, not answering, but glancing at her now and then.
“All right, look.” She cleared her throat. “That was presumptuous of me. Asking you to take me home with you. I realize that. If there’s a bus station anywhere around here, you can just drop me off there. They have great benches to sleep on.”
He swiveled his head to look at her, the outside lights of the motel reflected in the inky blackness of his eyes. “Been doing a lot of that lately, have you?”
“No. Yes. I mean…” If possible she gripped the blanket tighter, holding it around her like a shield. “When I was a kid…”
One eyebrow lifted. “Your parents let you sleep in bus stations when you were a kid?”
“No.” She bit her lip in frustration. “I’ve…just had experiences with them.”
“I’ll bet. And speaking of parents, maybe this would be a good time to call them. Let them know you’re stranded.”
I’m not stranded. I’m running for my life.
“M-My parents are dead.” The hot, prickly feel of tears pressed against her eyelids, and she blinked them rapidly.
More silence. Then he turned onto a two lane highway, still not answering her.
“W-Where are we going?”
“My house. You wanted me to take you there, so all right, I’m doing it. But as soon as you get your shit together, you’re going to tell me what the hell this is all about.”
Kate nearly sobbed with relief. She wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him, but she didn’t think he’d like that too much.
“I have empty bedrooms that no one sleeps in. You can even lock the door if you want to, since you seem so jittery.”
Heat rose in her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to imply—”
“No, that’s okay.”
He unclipped his cell phone from his belt, pressed a number on speed dial, and began speaking in low tones. Kate didn’t even try to hear what he was saying. She knew better than to relax or trust a total stranger. That could lead to death. Hers. So what was she doing in this truck, letting a man she’d just met take her to his house—wherever that happened to be. Of course, how much worse could it be than putting herself back out there in worse shape than before for Peter to find? Quinn No-Other-Name didn’t seem like a killer to her, but one never knew.
She huddled into a corner of the seat. Right now, she just wanted to be warm and dry and fall asleep.
****
Well, shit.
Quinn gritted his teeth so hard he was afraid he’d grind off the enamel. How the hell had he let himself get into this mess? Of all the stupid things in the world to do.
Stopping like he had was a stupid thing to do. He’d been almost home after a long, draining evening, and was ready for a hot shower, a cold beer, and a soft bed. But there she was, stranded on IH 10, looking like a refugee from some Third World country.
Baggy jeans and a shirt ten sizes too big, looking as if she’d slept in them for a year. No makeup, no jewelry. Her small frame too slender, the kind that came from not eating properly. A wild mop of curls framing a thin, pale face dominated by sad and frightened eyes. Terrified and trying not to show it.
The car was such a disaster he couldn’t believe she’d gotten five miles in it, much less all the way from wherever in California she’d picked it up. One look at her, and he felt as if someone had baited a hook and reeled him in.
He’d let himself be talked into taking her home with him? He had to be out of his mind.
She was trouble. He could smell it a mile away. And not of the usual kind, either. He’d seen all the signs of trouble like hers before, and he didn’t need to get involved in it. If she wasn’t running from the cops—and his gut told him she wasn’t—then the people after her were of the worst kind. What the hell could someone like her get herself into, anyway? She looked like the worst thing she’d ever done was return a library book late.
But somewhere, somehow, she’d gotten crosswise of someone who was on her tail, people Quinn was sure weren’t the kind you invited home for dinner. Whatever they were, it was easy to see she was about to lose it altogether. So terrified of something, her fear was like a living thing wrapped around her. And apparently no one to help her and no resources but her own wits.
Yup, Miss Kate Griffin was carrying a hundred pounds of trouble around with her, and he had a feeling he’d just picked up part of the load.
Dumb, Quinn. Dumbass dumb.
Only what else was he supposed to do with her? He couldn’t just dump her. Whoever those two men were, they’d obviously scared the shit out of her. And what was that all about?
He slid a glance at her. The rain hadn’t helped the situation. She sat pushed into a corner of the cab, bedraggled and shivering, wrapped in his ratty old blanket, looking for all the world like someone had thrown her away.
Double shit!
Worse than that, though, was this unexpected chemistry that exploded out of nowhere the minute he touched her. Back there on the highway, they’d nearly gone up in flames. He could see it shocked her as much as it had him. It was more than he wanted to handle. Safety in solitude. That had been his mantra ever since that awful bloody day. Now here he was, dragging trouble into his house. Into his carefully guarded life.
Four years had passed since Lisa and Nikki died, years in which he’d withdrawn more and more into himself. Memories of his dead wife and child twisted painfully inside him, images that he worked hard to keep at bay. He’d never forgiven himself for what happened to them. His work had put them in harm’s way, and he’d failed to protect them. The pain of losing them still wrenched his heart.
He’d managed to keep everyone at bay since then, jumped into a hole and pulled the dirt in after himself, yet one look at this ragamuffin and he wanted to do everything to her. Touch her everywhere. Plunge himself into her every place he could. Keep her safe, even though he didn’t know yet from what.
Was this a sign from the gods? His chance for salvation? For redemption? If he could save Kate Griffin from whatever was chasing her, maybe he could finally go to sleep at night without the image of those blood-covered bodies burned into his eyes.
The rain had stopped as suddenly as it started. Maybe it would wash out the confusion in his brain as it had washed the streets and roadways. He sure hoped so.