In the Enemy's Arms (12 page)

Muscles knotted in Cate’s gut. Sure, that was the trade the man had demanded, but it wasn’t going to happen. Unless she and Justin found something—leverage, he’d called it—to use against the Wallace brothers, they were going to kill Trent and Susanna and then, because she and Justin knew too much, they would kill them, too.

She huddled deeper under the covers, her gaze locked on the bedside phone. While Justin slept last night, she should have called her ex-father-in-law, or AJ or the closest FBI office. Despite the Wallaces’ warning, she should have asked for help.

And if it had gotten Trent and Susanna killed quicker? If it had gotten Justin killed? The Wallace family was far wealthier and likely more influential than the Calloways, probably more so than the Seaverses. They could have eyes and ears everywhere.

“Yeah, we’ll expect another call.” Justin’s voice went dry. “We can’t wait.”

He hung up, started to stretch, then gave his clothes a look, as if he didn’t remember he was wearing them. After scratching his head and leaving his hair on end, he finally focused on her. “You want the bathroom first?”

She shook her head.

Sliding from the covers—at some point in the night, he’d awakened enough to crawl under them—he gazed for a moment at the phone before looking at her again. “We’re only a few hours from Jackson. Don’t give me a reason to put you in the trunk for the rest of the trip.”

Then, with a shrug, he said, “Aw, hell,” unplugged the phone and took it to the bathroom with him.

She was certain she heard the click of the lock behind him.

Chapter 6

J
ackson, Mississippi, home to half a million people in the metropolitan area, Jackson State University, the state capitol and Justin’s good buddy Garcia, whom he didn’t hesitate to say he loved. Cate had been anticipating meeting the woman since they’d left the motel this morning, but now that they stood at her front door, the elephants were back, tumbling in her stomach.

Why?

The first surprise had been the house. It was, except for its sunny yellow shade, the stereotypical middle-class house: big enough for two bedrooms, or three if they were small; a front porch with two rockers and pots of bright pansies; wind chimes hanging a few feet from a lush fern; a neat yard; a middle-class car parked in the driveway. It was very much like Cate’s own house back in Copper Lake.

The second surprise was the woman who opened the door. She was neither tall nor willowy, and only part of her curly hair was blond. Part was brown, and part was a delicate shade of peach. She was no taller than Cate, though much curvier thanks to the extra twenty pounds she carried, and she wore a stud in her nose, six or eight in each ear and a vivid-hued tattoo that snaked up from her left ring finger to disappear under her sleeve.

Cate expected her to greet Justin with a hug—after all, he’d told her he loved her—but instead she smacked him on the shoulder. “I’ve been worried sick about you guys. Why didn’t you let me know you were coming here?”

“I have to keep my cell phone on for their next call, but I’m not using it.” He rubbed his arm as if her blow had really hurt. “You don’t want to find some guy on your doorstep with a big ugly gun wanting to know what you know.”

She made a
pfft
sound. “Let ’em come. I’ve got the best security system in the state of Mississippi. Hardened steel doors. Bulletproof windows. A safe room that even the Navy SEALs couldn’t break into…or out of,” she added with a leer, “once I got them inside.”

To Cate, Justin said, “Garcia’s a little paranoid.”

“Not paranoid, sweetheart. Prepared.” She shifted her gaze—lavender, thanks to contacts—to Cate. “So you’re Trent’s ex-wife. Cate, is it? I’m Amy.”

Cate accepted the hand she offered—a firm grip but not so much that the multiple rings Amy wore did any damage. She had never considered herself paranoid, but everyone knowing she was Trent’s ex-wife was starting to wear on her. What had he and Justin told their buddies? Was she starting every introduction with big
X
s in the minus column?

“Want some coffee?” Amy asked. “Leftover doughnuts? A bathroom?”

“Yes.” Cate never turned down caffeine, food or facilities.

“Bathroom’s second door on the right. We’ll be in the kitchen.” Amy gestured toward the back of the house.

All the doors off the hallway were open, revealing a bedroom at the far end and two rooms converted to what looked like mission control: multiple computers, monitors, printers, bulletin boards, desks, phones. Whatever Amy did besides decrypt stolen files for friends, it looked far too technical for Cate’s tastes.

When Cate left the bathroom and went into the kitchen, Amy was measuring cold bottled water into a coffeemaker that made Cate’s little two-cup wonder look like something from the Stone Age. Justin pushed away from the counter where he was lounging and left the room for his chance at the bathroom.

“Isn’t he a doll?”

Cate warily sat down at the small round table where three plates, a stack of napkins and a box of doughnuts had places of honor. “Justin?”

“I just love him to death. Being who and what he is—you know,
rich
—I never thought I’d like him, but after one day with him, I just adored him.”

Confusion raised its pesky little head in Cate’s mind. Who could possibly adore the Justin Seavers
she
knew after spending an entire day with him? His money, maybe, but him? And wasn’t a lushly curved paranoid computer geek in middle-class suburbia just about the last person she would expect him to be best buds with?

Maybe Cate didn’t know Justin as well as she’d thought. Maybe he’d grown up since those early days. Maybe he’d changed from the entitled, self-centered jerk she’d known.

Maybe she was being judgmental and narrow-minded because maybe
she
hadn’t grown up.

It was a disturbing thought.

“Where did you meet?” she asked, as the aroma of coffee brewing drifted into the air, rich enough to make her stomach growl.

“At the rehab center in Birmingham. I was teaching quadriplegic patients how to use computers to deal with their new limitations, and he was…well, rehabbing. After the accident.”

Cate had heard of a number of accidents involving Justin. There had been the time he’d had trouble with gauges that had malfunctioned while diving and had run out of air sixty feet down. And the time he’d slid halfway down a mountain while ice climbing.
Those are the risks,
Trent had always said with a certain hint of relish. But she’d never heard anything about an accident serious enough to require rehab.

“The accident?” She tried to sound casual as she pinched off a bit of maple-glazed doughnut.

“Yeah, when he got T-boned on his motorcycle. They weren’t sure he was ever going to be mobile again, but
he
knew. All those months, he worked harder than anyone there. I was impressed, and let me tell you, I don’t impress easily.”

“Who impressed you?”

Cate’s gaze jerked to the doorway where Justin was standing, hands on his lean hips. He wore khaki shorts—it seemed that was all he’d packed—and a T-shirt advertising the world’s best diving in the Philippines. He looked from Amy to her, then back again, waiting for an answer.

“You, my prince. I was just telling Cate how all the nurses at the rehab hospital fought over who got to help you bathe.” She grinned at Cate. “A couple of them actually considered relocating to Mobile to volunteer at the community center when he—”

His forehead wrinkled and his eyes turned mutinous as he interrupted her. “You know we don’t talk about that.”

“Yeah, but this is Cate. Trent’s ex-wife. She already knew.” Amy’s gaze darted to her. “You already knew, didn’t you?”

Cate shook her head.

“Oh. Sorry. My bad. Mea culpa.” A cajoling smile curved Amy’s mouth as she snatched up an insulated coffee mug, filled it from the fresh pot and offered it to Justin. “Sumatra’s best. Will you forgive me?”

His expression was slow to shift, and there was a grudging quality to it as he accepted the coffee, but after a deep sniff, he simply said, “Always,” and walked over to sit across from Cate. His gaze, both arrogant and challenging, locked with hers.

She picked at the doughnut, nibbling pieces of crust with frosting. An accident had threatened to leave him paralyzed. And what was that about a community center? Hadn’t she dragged out of him that he’d met Susanna at a community center in Mobile? If a couple of lovestruck nurses had considered volunteering there because of him, didn’t that likely mean he had also been volunteering? This wasn’t the Justin she knew.
Thought
she knew.

You’re such a snot,
he’d told her the day before, and it appeared he was right. Just as he’d pointed out to Benita that the Trent she’d divorced wasn’t the same guy Benita knew, the Justin sitting across from her apparently wasn’t the one she’d held a grudge against all these years.

And if that was the case, she felt foolish. Small. And with a lot to make up for.

* * *

When they left, Garcia hugged Cate, after trading email addresses with her, then smacked Justin on the arm again. “Stay out of trouble,” she demanded. “And take care of Cate. Keep her safe. And Trent and Susanna.”

He gave her a wry smile. “I’m doing my best.”

“I’ll keep working on those other files. Check your email.”

He hugged her, and she clung a little tighter than she normally did before pushing back. “Go on now. Get to work. Find the bad guys. Bring yourself back home safe.”

Noticing Cate’s sour look as they walked to the car, he asked, “What’s wrong? You don’t like differing opinions?”

She slid into the passenger seat and buckled up before frowning at him. “Excuse me?”

He buckled up, too, then backed out of the driveway. “You have this image of me from college that you’re determined to hold on to. You can excuse Trent for not agreeing, because we’re so much alike, and Susanna because she’s in love with Trent. But then there’s Mario and Benita and now Garcia. You like them, and they like me, and you can’t figure it out.”

She didn’t say anything for a mile or so, and when she did, the subject wasn’t quite what he expected: “How could you keep injuries that severe so quiet?”

His mouth thinned. “It was an accident. Car ran a stop sign, hit a motorcycle. Who’s interested in that?”

“An accident that made the doctors think you weren’t going to walk again? An accident that happened to the media darling of the Seavers family? Don’t tell me that’s not worthy of a mention in the local news.”

“My mother’s secretary is a dragon when she’s protecting her own. Besides, it wasn’t that bad. The doctors needed a second opinion, and I gave it to them.” He wasn’t comfortable talking about it. It had happened a long time ago—he didn’t even remember much of the first month—and he’d proven the doctors wrong.

So he gave her that cocky grin that usually made her teeth grind. “Let’s get back to the fact that everyone loves me and you’re wondering just how badly you’ve misjudged me.”

She gave her own grin that was really just baring her teeth. “Nah, let’s talk about how you interrupted Amy just when she’d mentioned the community center.”

He followed the signs onto the interstate heading to Montgomery, his own teeth grinding. It wasn’t a secret that he volunteered at the center, not really. His parents knew, and the closest of his friends. He wasn’t embarrassed by it, though a lot of people he knew would be. You gave money to the poor; you didn’t actually spend time with them.

But he didn’t bring it up in conversation, either. It was his time, his business. If he’d wanted Cate to know, he could have told her yesterday or the day before. He didn’t have to prove to her that he’d changed. If she couldn’t figure it out on her own, too bad for her, because he
was
different.

After a time, he said, “Get that printout Garcia gave us, will you, and put the Montgomery address in the GPS.”

She pulled the sheaf of papers from her purse, then studied the screen, muttering, “I’ve never used a GPS. I always know where I’m going.”

“Not this time, sweetheart,” he replied. “If you did, you would’ve gotten off the ride a long time ago.”

“Hey, you promised Amy you’d keep me safe.”

He had, and he intended to keep his word. Somehow. Instead of reassuring her, though, he grumbled, “You know, there’s something to be said for living life without others placing expectations on you.”

Finally figuring out the screen, she entered the address, then sat back and sighed. “Sometime I’d like to try it. No responsibilities, no worries.”

“No lives saved, no helping kids who need it.”

“No getting shot at,” she countered.

“Hey, I’ve been responsibility free most of my life, and that bullet came as close to me as you. There’s no guarantees in life, doc.”

Mouth set grimly, she shifted her gaze to the papers. Garcia had run every name and address in the file, comparing them to tax and utility records. All but three of the twenty-two families still lived at the addresses given, and she’d found new ones for those three. She was working more of her computer magic to get them background information on the family they were going to visit and would send it via email as soon as she had it.

While Cate was in the bathroom, Garcia had also given him the flash drive. Copies of the files were residing in the unbeatable security of her computer, but the original was in his pocket.

For whatever good it might do. The drive itself wasn’t going to get Trent and Susanna, or him and Cate, out of trouble. Still, taking it had started this mess. Maybe, somehow, returning it would help end it.

In a good way, he hastily added.

“So…you work with kids.”

He glanced at Cate, who looked remarkably good for the circumstances. Her hair was pulled back in a clip, her hands were steady as a rock and her face was smooth. Not lined with fear or exhaustion or frustration. Calm and in control.

“You’re like a dog with a bone.” A much better way to say she was stubborn than suggesting that her single-mindedness had bored Trent.