Читать книгу Rocky Mountain Revenge - Cindi Myers, Cindi Myers - Страница 9

Chapter Four

Jake noticed Anne’s hesitation, as if she was debating whether to trust him. “I’m the only one who knows your story,” he said softly. “The only one who can understand what you’re going through.”

She took a long sip of coffee, then set the cup down and looked him in the eye. “Yesterday, after we talked, I went to my gym. The owner told me a man had been in there asking about me. Was that you?”

He shook his head. “I haven’t been to any gym. And I didn’t ask anyone in Rogers about you. I came straight to your house as soon as I got here.”

The lines around her eyes deepened. “McGarrity—that’s the gym owner—said this guy was dark, and built like a football player.”

“Could be one of your father’s goons.”

“Yes. It could be.” Her shoulders sagged. “I started to leave last night—to throw what I could in the car and just...run away.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“What would that solve? I’d still be afraid, and alone. More alone even than I am now. I like it here. I’ve made friends. And there are people here who depend on me. Kids. I don’t want to let them down.”

“You’ve always been a fighter. That’s one of the things that drew me in. Even that first night on the dance floor, you made your own rules. Everyone else had to follow them or get out of your way.”

“You make me sound like a pushy witch.”

“You could be that, too. But it’s kept you alive.”

She shook her head. “I’m not like that anymore. I’ve learned the wisdom of staying in the background and letting others take the lead. I just want to do my job and live a quiet life.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if you didn’t have to be afraid?”

“You mean if my father weren’t around to threaten me?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not going to help you, Jake. I did what I could to punish my father and I wasted my breath.”

“You won’t be wasting your breath this time.”

“What are you going to do? You’re not with the Bureau anymore. You don’t have any authority. If the government can’t find Sam Giardino, with all their resources, what makes you think you’ll have better luck?”

“You know your father better than anyone. You know his habits and the people he associates with. The places he likes to vacation and where he stays when he goes out of town.”

“You can learn all those things without me. Your friends in the Bureau have files filled with that kind of information.”

“They know facts. They don’t know emotions, or the reasons your father does what he does. You can tell me those things. You can help me predict what he’s going to do next.”

“And then what? You confront him and end up dead yourself? Or you lead him to me and I’m dead?”

“I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

“You can’t make that promise. Not when so much is out of your control.”

“I’m going to stay with you tonight.”

She straightened. “You will not.”

“Yes, I will. At least until we find out who was asking about you at your gym yesterday.”

“Jake, you cannot stay at my house. What will people think?”

“Since when do you care what people think?” The woman he’d known before had made a point of flaunting public opinion.

“Since I moved to a small town where everyone knows me. I’m a schoolteacher, for God’s sake. I have a reputation to protect.”

“And me spending the night with you is going to ruin that reputation? You’re a grown woman.”

“This isn’t New York. Some people here still care about morality.”

“So you’re telling me nobody here sleeps with anybody else unless they’re lawfully married?”

“I’m sure they do, but they’re discreet about it.”

“So we’ll be discreet. Besides, I never said I was going to sleep with you—unless that’s what you want.”

The color rose in her cheeks. “It doesn’t matter what we’re actually doing. It’s what they think we’re doing.”

“But I’m the long-lost boyfriend come back to beg forgiveness,” he said. “Doesn’t everyone love a lover?”

“No. You can’t stay with me.”

“Fine. Then you come stay with me. At the hotel.”

“That’s even worse. Sneaking off to a hotel together.”

He laughed. “We’re just a sordid pair. Honestly, I think you’re making something out of nothing.”

“You don’t live here. I do. And I don’t want to do anything to call attention to myself.”

“Too late for that. I’m here. And this other mysterious stranger is here, asking about you. What are people going to say about that? The new teacher’s gotten very popular all of a sudden.”

“Just go away, Jake. Please? I’ll handle this on my own.”

“No.”

“You don’t think I can handle this?”

“I’m not going to leave you. Not until I know you’re safe.”

“I’ll call the Marshals office in Denver. They’ll send someone to babysit me for a while.”

“Another strange man come to town to hang out with the teacher. Won’t that set people talking?”

She made a face. “Maybe they’ll send a woman. I’ll tell people she’s my sister.”

“Then tell them I’m your brother.”

“As if anyone would believe that.”

“Why not? Siblings don’t have to look alike.”

“You don’t act like any brother.”

“Maybe not like your brother. What’s Sam Junior up to these days?”

“I have no idea. As far as I know, he thinks I’m dead.”

“Sammy was what, twenty-four when I saw him last? He’d just had a baby with that woman—what was her name?”

“Stacy. She was the daughter of some guy who owed my father a favor. It was practically an arranged marriage. I don’t think she was very happy.”

He didn’t remember much about the girl, or her husband, for that matter. “Sammy Junior was in law school, wasn’t he?”

“Yes. I imagine he has his license by now.”

“I guess a lawyer is a handy thing to have in the family when you spend so much time breaking the law.”

She stood. “I think it’s time for you to go now.”

“I’ll be over later tonight,” he said.

“No!”

“I’ll park my car a couple blocks away—near that mechanic, with all the cars in the yard. And I’ll leave early, before anyone is up.”

“I won’t let you in.”

She turned away, but he grabbed her wrist and leaned closer, his voice low but insistent. “I can’t leave you alone, not with some man neither of us knows asking about you. At least let me protect you until your handler from the Marshals office shows up.”

Her eyes told him she hated being in this position—hated having to depend on anyone, but especially him. But she’d always been more intelligent than most people he knew; she could be reckless, but she was never foolish. “All right,” she said, and pulled out of his grasp. “But only until the marshal gets here. And you’ll sleep on the sofa.”

By the time Anne reached her house, she was jittery with nerves and fear and anger. Jake—she couldn’t think of him by any name but Jake—had no right to come here like this. After all he’d done, he owed her peace and an illusion of safety.

But of course her safety was an illusion. It always had been. No matter how many promises the Marshals made to her, she’d never really believed they could protect her from her father.

The phone was ringing when she unlocked the door. She fastened the locks behind her and went to answer it. “How was coffee?” Maggie spoke with a musical lilt, her joy at having the scoop on Anne’s love life—or so she thought—barely contained.

“Coffee was...tense.” The Marshals had drilled into her that sticking as close to the truth as possible was the best way to keep from getting caught in a lie.

“I take it the two of you didn’t part as friends.”

“You could say that.” She and Jake had grown so close in the weeks they’d spent together, but their final night had been all chaos and confusion. One moment they’d been dancing, her head cradled on his chest, wondering how soon they could make their excuses and head upstairs to bed. Nights in Jake’s arms were heaven to her then. The next moment her world exploded in a hail of bullets and blood. Jake lay shattered on the dance floor, the front of her dress red with his blood. Her screams echoed over the music as two men she didn’t recognize dragged her backward out of the room.

Later, still wearing the bloodied dress, huddled over a cup of bitter, cooling coffee in some gray-walled interrogation room, the agents had told her their version of the truth—that Jake West was really Jacob Westmoreland, accountant turned undercover FBI agent, assigned to infiltrate her family and bring down her father.

She hadn’t hated him immediately. Hatred had come later, when the weight of his lies had settled on her. He’d told her he loved her. He’d said he wanted to protect her. He wanted them to get married, to live happily ever after. And all that time she hadn’t even known his real name. How could anything else he’d said be true if his very identity had been a falsehood? He’d used her to betray her family. As much as she’d come to despise her father, she’d despised Jake almost as much.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Maggie asked. “’Cause if I want to talk to myself, I can do that without holding a phone to my ear.”

Maggie must have been talking while Anne took her trip down memory lane. “Nothing happened,” she said. “He said he was sorry. I said I was sorry, too. End of story.”

“Uh-huh.” Maggie sounded skeptical. “How long is he staying in town?”

“I don’t know. Another day or two. We don’t have plans.” As soon as she got off the phone with Maggie, she’d need to call the number her WitSec handlers had given her. Denver was only five hours away—they could have someone here tomorrow, surely.

“He was really good-looking,” Maggie said. “And I think he still has a thing for you. You have to admit, coming so far to say he was sorry took guts. Maybe you’ll get together again while he’s here.”

“Maggie.” Anne said her name as a warning.

Maggie laughed. “I know. I’m an incurable romantic. All right, I’ll shut up about it. What are you doing tonight?”

“The usual. Schoolwork. Maybe some TV.”

“Have a good night. See you tomorrow.”

“Goodbye.” Anne replaced the phone in the cradle and started to the kitchen to make tea. She was only halfway across the room when a knock on the door made her jump. She glanced out the window; the sky was a gray smudge against the black-and-white shadows of mountains, the day rendered in charcoal by the disappearing sun. Jake had said he would come by after dark—maybe a city boy used to all those lights thought this was dark enough.

She strode to the door and took a deep breath, bracing herself, then checked the peephole. She registered a man, about Jake’s height, huddled in the shadows. Apparently, the bulb in her porch light had burned out. As long as Jake was here, she’d ask him to replace it. She threw back the chain, turned the dead bolt and jerked open the door.

A burly, dark-haired man shoved her back into the room and slammed the door behind him. He looked her up and down, his face expressionless. “Long time, no see, Elizabeth.”