She sensed Ryan watching her through his peripheral vision. But he said nothing. Swearing not to break down, she cleared her throat and forced herself to ask, “Have you seen my plane tickets by chance?”
***
“Tickets?” Ryan Carter glanced in her direction and for the first time really studied her delicate features. Her button nose was all wrinkled up, her full mouth puckered in a troubled pout. She was a lot younger than he’d first thought. Those pictures in the FBI file had been misleading in more ways than one. She had deep brown eyes set beneath long dark lashes—eyes that any man could get lost in forever if they weren’t careful. But he was safe. He wasn’t just any man.
She kept digging without a response. “Airplane tickets?” he repeated.
“Yes. I was going to try and exchange them at the next airport, or at least get a refund since my flight was cancelled by the storm.”
“I see.”
“What, you don’t think they’ll refund them?” There was that squeak of panic in her voice again. He wanted to tell her everything was going to be all right from here on out. That he knew who she was and why she was running. But he couldn’t.
“Look, I’ll take you were you need to go.” Not at all a lie. His instructions were to deliver her to the authorities in Texas. And that is exactly what he’d planned to do. That is, before he realized they’d just use her to lure her husband in. She and her son were of little concern to the FBI. They wanted Steven Prichard and would do anything and use anyone to get him.
That was the reason for this little detour. He planned to hide her and her son until he could come up with another plan. He only hoped his previous boss, Special Agent Harrington, understood. Harrington owed him a favor and Ryan intended to collect it now. He just needed to make sure the detour was an uneventful trip. No problem there if he could keep her in the dark and in his vehicle.
“That’s okay. I don’t want to be a bother. And you really don’t want to get involved in my mess. Trust me.” She blinked back the wetness trying to form in the corners of her eyes and lowered her gaze.
Good Lord
. Was she worried about his wellbeing? Wanting to cut ties with him for his own good? Steven Prichard was not a man you wanted to cross and Ryan knew him all too well. Steven’s name popped up on almost every human trafficking case Ryan had worked for the FBI. Steven Prichard was a huge distributor, not to mention, buyer in the human trafficking circles.
“It’s not a problem. I’m a big boy. I make my own decisions.”
“Thanks, but I’ll manage.” She returned to her tote, searching again.
“I don’t think they’re in there,” he said after about ten minutes of listening to her rustle through loose papers, several envelopes and even her makeup kit. Her determination to find them and the little sighs of despair tore at his resolve.
After turning the now empty bag upside down and shaking it, she drew in a deep breath and turned to look out the window. That’s when he noticed the fresh bruises on her neck. The scarf around her shoulders slid to the side just enough to expose the damage done by hands clearly unconcerned for human life.
His entire body stiffened. “Where on earth did you get those?” He’d reached over and gently stroked the length of the biggest mark before he realized his mistake.
“W-what?” She recoiled immediately, both hands flying to cover her secret. The purse and all its contents she taken out hit the floorboard, spilling about her feet.
He swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry. It’s none of my business.” He turned back to stare at the road, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. The files mentioned alleged abuse, and he’d more than just suspected it that day in the hospital when he’d seen her in person for the first time, but good God. He hadn’t expected anything to this magnitude. The muscles along his jawline flinched violently.
“My soon to be ex-husband has an anger problem.”
Her statement took him totally by surprise. Husband? Did she really believe Steven was her husband or was she trying to throw him off? Whatever her reason for the comment, he didn’t expect her to reveal this private detail, especially to a complete stranger.
“Where is he now? Your husband?”
“I’m sure not too far behind me.” Her point was simple. She planned to scare him away. No stranger, no matter how gallant, wanted to get involved in a messy divorce. But again, he was no ordinary stranger.
“Was running really a good choice?” If she wanted to divulge information, he’d take all he could get. It would only strengthen the FBI’s case against Mr. Steven Prichard and prove her innocence.
“It was that or stay and live a life worse than death.” Michael stirred in his sleep and she turned teary eyes on him. “My son deserves a better life. He didn’t do anything but be born. Me, on the other hand, I actually made the decision to marry into it.”
Funny. She’d told him her real name and kept saying husband and married. Did she really not understand the trouble she was in? Did she truly believe their marriage was real? The sincerity in her voice tore at his gut. She was hurting from deep gouging wounds he doubted would ever heal.
“Let me help you.” Ryan’s voice sounded strained. He rolled his grip back on forth on the wheel to keep from making another stupid move to touch her. Damn, he needed her to trust him, to believe he wanted to help her with nothing in return.
She didn’t speak. He could see she was struggling to keep the tears from overflowing.
“Don’t say anything yet. Think about it.” He paused to give her time to reflect on his offer. “Okay?”
“Why? I don’t understand why you would want to help me. You don’t know me. What I’ve done. Have no idea what he’s like. What he will do to you if he finds us together.” Her gaze slowly rose to challenge him. There was so much pain in those amazing eyes it caught him off guard. What could he say? Certainly, not the truth. Instead of gaining trust, he’d stirred up a ton of suspicions.
A moment of silence passed so thick it made it difficult to breath.
“I just do.” He zeroed in on her with a look that revealed every emotion he felt. Anger, disgust, disbelief. “No man has the right to hit or hurt a woman.”
More silence. Then just a nod before her head fell into her hands. She tried to hold them back, to keep control, but the tears came. The heavy sobs ripped at his heart and he sat quiet letting her cry. It was her right. She’d been through hell and if crying helped even slightly, she could bawl to her heart’s content. Shit, he almost felt like crying right along with her.
“Let me help you,” he said again after her sobs lessened to a hiccup here and there.
“I’m so sorry. I can’t do that.” She took out a tissue from the scattered contents she’d collected from the floor and blew her nose. “This won’t happen again,” she said. Then she turned to stare back out the window.
He struggled with his own demons. Even after all she’d been through, she was trying to remain strong. He hadn’t met anyone like her since his wife died. If she found out who he really was and who he had ties to, she’d bolt in a heartbeat.
According to the files he’d been privileged to, the FBI had tried several times over the years to get her to talk. They had female undercover agents befriend her, try to give her enough confidence to seek police protection. But she wouldn’t take the chance with her young son’s life. And he honestly didn’t blame her.
Steven Prichard was an evil man. Ryan learned from his own investigating that whenever Makayla left the house on her own, the boy stayed behind either with Steven or his goons. The FBI agents on the case thought she was tied into the money laundering and trafficking schemes, but Steven’s using the boy as collateral was all the proof Ryan needed to verify she was just a pawn in this madman’s dirty little games.
That’s where Ryan came in. A former FBI agent on the Prichard case, as well as too many others to count over the years, he’d made the transition to a private investigator/bounty hunter in order to save his sanity. His decision ended up being just what the doctor ordered. He could watch from a distance. Wait for the perfect opportunity to show itself and then pounce. And pounce he did.
It still baffled him how she managed to leave the estate with Michael in tow. He wanted to know the details of what happened after he last saw her at the mall. She’d had a taxi outside waiting to take them to the airport and he’d followed not long after incapacitating Steven’s goon, Ricky. But how much he could expect Steven to be aware of worried him. How big of a head start did they actually have?
“I’m hungry,” Michael said squirming in the backseat.
“Hang in there, little man. We’ll be in the next town in about ten minutes.”
Makayla didn’t look at Ryan as she twisted on the seat to make it easier to see her son. Ryan’s tone was calm and upbeat as he spoke to her son and he could tell she was intrigued. Only hours before when they first ran into each other, he’d been gruff and unconcerned about her little boy’s needs. Not to mention downright rude and inconsiderate if the truth be told. He’d been worried Steven was already at the airport. Didn’t know how much time they had. Now he was trying to settle into his role. A role she had no intention of letting him audition for much less be cast in. This wasn’t going to be easy.
She watched her son fiddle with the buckle on the seatbelt. “No. Leave it buckled and sit still, sweetheart. It won’t be much longer.”
In the rearview mirror, Ryan saw Michael huff in frustration, his tiny arms crossed against his chest. But the little boy said nothing else as he rocked back and forth against the seat.
“What is the next town?” The leather shifted beneath her weight as she plopped back around to face the front. He flicked a concerned look her way. He didn’t like her tone. She was planning. He could tell by the look on her face.
“Goldfield. But it’s small, really just a hole in the road. There’s a gas station with nice restrooms and plenty of snack foods that will hold us till Indian Springs.”
“Been this way often?” She was studying him now. Her right brow lifted inquisitively.
Damn. He’d slipped. He had little knowledge of Goldfield or Indian Springs for that matter, except what he had been told by the FBI when his surveillance orders turned into delivery orders. Goldfield was an old gold mining town and used to be Nevada’s largest city until the ore ran out. Now the town’s claim to fame was one very haunted Goldfield Hotel. He planned to make their visit brief. Ghosts were not high up on any of his lists. He had way too many past demons of his own to deal with.
He wanted an answer that wasn’t a lie. “No. Can’t say that I have. But I’ve been told it’s a nice place to stretch your legs.” There, that was the truth.
“Is there a working pay phone? My cell’s dead and I forgot the charger.”
“I’m not sure.” He wasn’t about to offer her his. A phone would not be a good idea. He would have to find a way to make certain whatever phone existed suddenly became unavailable or completely out of service. It was imperative he become her only link to freedom.
Makayla shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat. With the clear sky and bright sun shining above, the temperature had risen several degrees outside, not to mention inside the cars interior. Ryan noticed her fidgeting right away and reached over to switch the heater off, sending her an apologetic smile.
“Thank you,” she said before turning to watch the scenery fly by. Another act of kindness from a stranger. A man no less. Would wonders ever cease?
They cleared a curve and the water tower for Goldfield came into view. Small didn’t describe the town. Non-existent would be a much better word. Two roads crossed, one paved with a nice yellow stripe down the middle and the other a dirt path. You couldn’t even call it a road. The gas station sat on the opposite corner of the town like a mirage and she blinked, rubbed her eyes, and blinked again to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. Just how clean were the restrooms?
“I’ll check them out first if you’d like.” They pulled to a stop in front of one of the two gas pumps and he opened his door.
He’d read her mind. “No. That’s all right. I’ve pretty much seen it all. After our so-called honeymoon out in the middle of the Louisiana swampland, I’ve learned to carry my own paper and hand wipes.” She felt the skin of her cheeks burn as the color rushed in. Oh, dear. That was a little too personal.
He being a man, and apparently void of ties to the female species, didn’t get her meaning. “Paper?”
Bright red now, Makayla searched for words to explain. “Sometimes people are not considerate. They don’t always have toilet paper available.” If she really wanted to shock the daylights out of him, she could mention hovering and drip-drying. But just thinking about saying it and the reaction she might get made her blush even more. It also reminded her that this man was a stranger.
When a good amount of the embarrassment dissipated, she raised her head to meet his deep blue gaze, hoping her meaning would click. His raised brow said it all. Comprehension flickered from his eyes to his mouth and he smiled sheepishly.
“Sheesh,” he said under his breath before easing his large frame out of the car and removing his coat. She couldn’t help but grin too. A sister or live-in girlfriend must not have been in the cards for him. With this thought came a whole rush of problems that might arise if they continued the trip much farther together. Another reason this wasn’t a good idea.