He hadn’t given his family a head’s up, but he knew they’d be okay with it. It was easier to explain in person. His family would help him protect Carey and give her a safe place to hide until the Vagabond Killer was caught. They’d also be discreet in keeping her presence a secret. She didn’t just need protection from the Vagabond Killer; she needed to be kept safe from the man looking for her.
Reilly nudged away the urge to press her for details about her past. He’d promised he wouldn’t, but the investigator in him hated unanswered questions. Who was this man and what about him scared her so much?
Carey was beautiful. Strong. Courageous. Her baggy clothes were an obvious attempt to draw attention away from her curvy body. He knew what was beneath those clothes. When the EMT had been examining her, Reilly had seen the flatness of her belly, felt the softness of her skin and noticed the roundness of her breasts.
He shifted in his seat, turned down the heat in the car and adjusted his pants, which suddenly felt too tight. He’d promised to protect her, not ravage her. It didn’t matter how beautiful she was or how much he ached to kiss her.
She was a perpetual temptation he had to ignore. The case had to come first. Getting a killer off the streets would save lives. Reilly took his duty as an officer of the law seriously and with that came a code of conduct he wouldn’t violate, no matter how beautiful the temptation.
He took another sip of coffee, which had long turned cold. It wasn’t that good to start with, but he’d needed something to keep him awake. He swallowed the bitter brew and concentrated on the road ahead of him.
After driving another two hours and drinking too much coffee, Reilly needed to use the bathroom and stretch his legs. Signs on the highway had announced a rest area nearby. Seeing the entrance, he pulled off the road and for a moment, he considered leaving Carey sleeping in the car. The rest stop had a few cars clustered around the main building and several large tractor trailers parked in the rear of the lot. After the trauma she’d suffered, waking her when she looked peaceful and comfortable seemed unfair. He hated to do it. But it was better if she came with him.
Even in a sweatshirt and jeans, her hair tied back with pieces loose in the front, she was one of the most enthralling women he’d seen. He spoke her name several times and then touched her arm lightly. “Carey.”
She opened her eyes and shifted, looking around, confusion lighting her face. “Are we there?”
He shook his head. They had hours to go before they reached Ashland. “No, I need to use the restroom.” The strain of exhaustion showed around her eyes and Reilly regretted waking her.
She straightened and pulled her hood over her head, covering her red hair. “Good idea.”
They climbed out of the car and walked in the main door of the rest stop. Reilly stayed close, wanting her within arm’s reach. A healthy dose of paranoia could save her life, and the idea of her walking alone in the open, unprotected, didn’t sit well with him.
The building was stark with whitewashed block walls and a cement floor, but it had the basics—a display of maps and points-of-interest brochures, a few vending and soda machines, and men’s and women’s bathrooms.
“When you’re done, wait for me here,” he said, pointing to the vending machines. “Don’t go outside. I’ll be around the corner in the men’s room.” He hated for her to be alone, but he couldn’t go into the bathroom with her.
Carey nodded. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”
Reilly watched her enter the women’s room and then hurried to the men’s room. The fewer seconds she was out of his sight, the better.
* * *
Carey glanced over her shoulder as she entered the women’s room. Reilly was waiting for her to go inside. The area wasn’t crowded and she didn’t see anyone she recognized—a good sign. Mark was looking for her, and while she’d known that since she’d run months ago, her picture on the news would give him plenty of clues about her whereabouts.
How far had she and Reilly traveled from Denver? It had to be a least a hundred miles. Was the distance enough that Mark and his thugs would lose her trail?
Carey hurried to finish in the bathroom and washed her hands at the sink. She splashed some water on her face and patted it dry with a paper towel. The mirror was smeared and dirty, speckled with chips and brown age spots, but from what she could see, she looked like something a cat threw up. She turned away. There was nothing she could do about her appearance now.
Another woman entered and as the door swung open, Carey glanced out. Two men she recognized were waiting by the door, their arms crossed, serious expressions on their faces. The shorter man had a goatee and the taller, broader man was clean shaven. She struggled to place them in her memory and to recall their names. Bits and pieces fell into place. When she’d met them for the first time, what had struck her most were their cold, dead eyes. Mark’s associates. They weren’t friends of Mark. They were his hired muscle.
How had they found her? Terror clutched at her chest. She had to warn Reilly. But how? She didn’t have a phone to call him and if she borrowed a phone, she didn’t know his number. If she walked out of the bathroom, even with her head down and her hood pulled up, they would see her. What if they saw Reilly coming out of the bathroom? Would they attempt to hurt him? Did they know to look for him?
She scanned the room for a weapon to defend herself. Toilet paper, paper towels and a few deodorizers were useless. But there was a window. It was small and higher on the wall, but if she flipped over the trash can and used it as a stool, she could pop the window and climb out.
The other woman in the bathroom shot her a strange look as she dragged the trash can toward the window. Carey didn’t care. She needed to hurry and get to Reilly before they did.
Standing on the trash can, she unlocked the window. It was an old window, pivoting from the bottom and swinging out at the top. She gave it a firm push, but it didn’t budge. She shoved it again, wondering when it had last been opened. If the dust, cobwebs and grime were any indication, it had been months. Maybe years. The window groaned and she worked her fist around its edges like a hammer, loosening it. With a final swing, the window opened and cool air rushed in.
It was a tight fit, but Carey was determined to squeeze through. Putting weight on her ribs burned, but she quelled the cry of pain that sprang to her lips. If Mark’s thugs heard a commotion in the bathroom, they might come to investigate and see her half-dangling out the window.
Contorting her already bruised body, she managed to slide through the open window and fall to the ground outside the bathroom. She landed on her side, her hip striking first. Ignoring the stinging pain, she dragged herself to her feet and circled the building, looking for another entrance.
Behind the rest area was a small patio with wooden picnic benches...and a door leading inside. One small element in her favor. She rushed to it, pulling on the handle. It gave and she opened it a few inches, peering through the crack.
Mark’s men’s heads were bent together in quiet discussion. Wondering if they should charge inside the women’s restroom and look for her?
Her heart sank when she saw Reilly standing by the vending machines. If the thugs turned around, they’d see him. Reilly glanced at his watch. Was he getting worried about why she was taking so long? How could she signal him without calling attention to herself?
Carey closed her eyes and prayed for a distraction. Where was the large bus trip making a stop and flooding the area? In the confusion, she could get to Reilly and they could hightail it to Montana.
No large flood of people came, nor any other distraction, but losing their patience, the thugs made a move to enter the women’s bathroom. Carey’s legs seemed to think for themselves. She shoved open the door and raced toward Reilly. He turned to her, either hearing the footsteps or sensing her approach. Pressing a finger over her lips, she pointed to the front doors. He cocked his head in question, but didn’t speak.
They had three seconds before the thugs figured out she wasn’t in the bathroom and started looking for her. Taking Reilly’s hand and ignoring the surge of heat in his touch, she ran with him toward the door.
When they were outside, he stopped, setting his hands on her arms, forcing her to face him. “What’s going on? What are you—”
She cut him off and ignored the heat lightning that ricocheted between them at the contact. They didn’t have time for delay. “Someone from my past has found me.”
His eyes narrowed in thought. “Are you sure?”
Yes, she was sure. She didn’t know how they had found her, but they had. “Please, we have to go. They can’t know where we’re headed, or nowhere is safe.” She took his sleeve and tugged him in the direction of his car. He followed her.
Reilly swore under his breath. “I didn’t see anyone tailing us.”
It didn’t matter now. All that mattered was getting away. “We’ll worry about the how later. Please, let’s just go!”
Reilly drew her to a stop. “Which car is theirs?”
Carey scanned the parking lot. A minivan. A Cadillac. And the black sports car. “The black car.” The one parked a space down from Reilly’s white sedan.
Reilly dragged his keys from his pocket and opened the pocketknife attached to his key ring. He pressed the button to unlock his car doors. “Get inside the car.”
He went to the front tire of the black car and slit the rubber. Then he did the same to the back tire. Hearing a shout, Carey looked to the entrance of the building. The thugs had seen them and were racing in their direction.
“Hurry,” Carey yelled from the passenger seat.
Reilly circled his car and got inside, started the engine and zipped out of the spot. Carey couldn’t tear her eyes from the side mirror. The thugs climbed in their car, prepared to give chase.
“Why did you slit both tires?” she asked. The seconds might have cost them.
“In case they have a spare. They won’t have two,” he said, his jaw tight with tension.
Turning in her seat to watch behind them, fear drained from her chest when they skidded to the side of the road. “They stopped.”
Reilly swore under his breath and banged his fist against the steering wheel. “I made a rookie mistake. They must have followed my electronic trail.”
“What mistake?” she asked. Was it a mistake that would cost their lives? “Did they follow your cell? Your pager?”
“No, my cell is department-issued. The signal bounces across cell towers at random locations across the country. But I used my credit card at the minimart on 59. We’re still traveling on 59. If someone was watching my cards, they would have gotten the location.” He glanced at her, his face filled with questions. “Someone who can trace credit card activity must be serious about finding you.”
Panic swelled inside her. How could she answer that without giving away too much information?
She got lucky and Reilly didn’t wait for her to answer. She was faintly aware of him calling the police. But most of her was reeling in relief at having escaped another close call with Mark.
* * *
Taking back roads to his family’s house added a few hours to the drive, but Reilly wasn’t taking chances more men had been stationed along the main highway looking for his car. The near miss at the rest stop had convinced him that the man—or men—after Carey meant business.
The ranch came into view in the distance, atop a hill accessible by vehicle via one road that scaled to the summit, weaving across the terrain. His father would see him as he drove closer to home, no trees blocking the view. The final few miles of the trip brought the familiarity and comforts of home.
Carey stirred when he stopped the car in front of the house and burrowed deeper beneath her blanket sweatshirt. He touched her arm and she started, turning in her seat, her eyes wide.
He was quick to reassure her. “You’re okay. We’re at my family’s house.”
She pressed her hand over her heart. “Sorry, I’m a little jumpy.”
What must it be like for her to live in a constant state of fear? To never have a sense of family and security? She must live one day to the next, no plans for the future, spending her time running from the past. After being chased from the rest stop, her fears of being found didn’t seem as extreme as he’d first believed. The man searching for her was dangerously dedicated to finding her. Reilly wanted to find the words to reassure her that everything would work out. He’d see to it. “You’ll be safe here. My family has over three hundred acres of land and the nearest town is over ten miles away. We live in the middle of nowhere.”
An uneasy expression crossed her face and it dawned on him she might fear being alone with a man without a place to flee. So much for finding the right words. “My mom will love having another woman in the house,” he added.
She sat up, unbuckling her seat belt. “I’m sorry I wasn’t good company on the drive. I was so tired.”
Reilly made a sound of acknowledgment and didn’t bother mentioning he was dead on his feet. He looked toward the house, up to the second-floor front window of his bedroom. The brick chimney smoked into the cold air and Reilly smiled at the thought of a warm bed, a hot cup of cocoa and a huge homemade meal. His mom was great at keeping food around for him, his dad and his brothers. The refrigerator and pantry would be stocked in preparation for the holidays.
They got out of the car and Reilly carried her duffel and his bag to the front porch. He rang the bell once and his mother pulled the door open, her arms extended.
Letting out an exclamation of joy, she hugged Reilly close. “And you brought a friend with you.” The word
friend
hung thick with implication. Reilly ignored it. He’d explain later the reasons she was here. For now he wanted Carey to feel at home.
“Mom, this is Carey. Carey, this is my mom, Jane.”
Jane took Carey’s hands in hers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Come inside and we’ll get you settled.” Jane moved away from the door to allow them entrance.
“Thank you for having me,” Carey said, stepping across the threshold and wiping her feet on the mat.