She was standing in front of him. Violet. Just like that. Honey blonde hair longer now, halfway down her back. Green eyes sparking. Curves filled out in the last four months. She’s eighteen now. And different. His Violet would never have folded her arms and planted her feet in the doorway, facing down Sam Stiles.
“Where’s Lee?” Sam said.
“What, you think she’ll let a con-cop in here? Especially right now. Come on, Sam.”
Violet said the man’s first name unthinkingly, must have said it hundreds of times. While Austin had chased dead end after dead end in search of her, in search of this ghostly network of people, Sam had known where all of them were. A slow simmer began in the pit of Austin’s stomach.
“Violet,” he said.
She stared up at him. As her mouth opened to answer, a woman rounded the corner behind her, coming from a hallway. Thirty-ish, taller than Violet, more skeletal than slender, with keen gray eyes and black hair cut just above the crew neckline of her shirt.
Lee Vaughn.
“Sam?” she said.
“We need to talk.” Sam propped a hand on the doorframe. “If Violet will let us in.”
“Is he a patient?” The woman’s eyes raked Austin up and down.
“No.” Violet’s gaze didn’t waver from Austin’s. “He’s a Constabulary agent.”
Even the woman’s breath froze.
“In fact, he’s Austin Delvecchio.”
The woman’s lips pulled back minutely, a quick glimpse of teeth, and her shoulders inched back, too, prepared to—what, tackle him? Had Violet told her everything?
Sam sighed. “First, hear me out—”
“Get him out of here,” the woman said. “Now.”
“He’ll be dead, Lee.”
“I don’t—”
“Because Jason Mayweather will kill him, because he’s the one who told me about Marcus.”
The very air seemed to absorb his words. Lee drew her hands behind her back and stepped to one side. “Violet.”
“But he’s—”
“Violet.”
Violet backed up, but the blaze in her eyes flickered higher. She faced Sam. “How do we know Mayweather threatened him? Because he told you? He’s probably a spy.”
Austin pushed past Sam, through the doorway. “Come on, Violet.”
“What? It wouldn’t be a new concept to you.”
“You think I’d turn you over to Jason after what he did to Brenner? You really think that about me?”
She glared at him, and he steeled himself against the sting inside. No, he didn’t deserve her acceptance, but this …
“Violet,” Sam said. “Austin’s in danger. I’m telling you that. Me. Not Austin.”
Violet’s gaze dropped to the floor, but she slowly shook her head.
Tension danced around these people like lightning bolts in a cloud. Austin’s teeth clenched, though no one here looked ready to throw a punch. Maybe he could end the debate. He dropped his bag on the floor and rolled up his sleeve. The bruise had started to throb in the last hour, but it wasn’t spreading.
Lee reached his side in moments. “Mayweather did this?”
“And this.” He tugged down his jacket collar. Violet peeked upward, then raised her head to stare at the blue and purple mottling his neck. “If Brenner’s here, ma’am, you don’t have to take my word on anything. Jason brought me to the house yesterday. Brenner will recognize me.”
Lee’s lips pressed together until they disappeared, further thinning her face.
No one moved from their positions—Sam and Austin just inside the door, Lee several paces further inside, Violet braced with her feet apart, an arm’s length from Lee. The air around them still crackled, and they all stood rigid in it, as if a sudden move might bring down the lightning.
“You’re a Constabulary agent,” Lee said, “no matter what’s happened between you and Mayweather.”
“No, I’m not. Not practically speaking. Arresting you means paperwork, which Jason would see. So even if I wanted to betray all of you …” Austin shrugged.
“Even if?” Violet said.
“What did I just say? I’m not giving anybody over to that guy, not even legally.”
“Not all Constabulary agents are like Mayweather,” Lee said.
“And it’s clear I can’t tell good cop from bad cop. If he hadn’t taken me into his confidence, I’d still be an admiring underling.”
“You don’t consider him an anomaly?”
“Someone trained him. Someone promoted him several times. He’s been an agent for almost seven years now, and in that time he’s worked with multiple colleagues. In all that time, these people either didn’t see what he really is … or they did see it. And did nothing.”
Lee angled to face him, and her movement dissolved the friction in the room. “How long ago were you attacked?”
Maybe that question meant a lifting of suspicion. Austin sighed. “A couple hours.”
“You need to ice this.” Lee took his wrist between her hands and tilted it, then pressed her thumb to each bone. He didn’t let himself wince. “I’d need an x-ray to be sure, but I don’t believe it’s broken.”
“It’s not,” he said, and she arched her eyebrows but didn’t comment.
She assessed the bruise on his throat, asked if his breathing was affected, asked if he’d sustained any other injuries. He almost didn’t tell her about his ankle, but letting it swell without treatment would be stupid. And pointless. This day had already pulverized his masculinity. One more blow wouldn’t make a difference.
“All right,” she finally said. “Come inside, both of you.”
Sam shook his head. “No time. This is it. You know it is.”
“It?”
“You have to run, all of you, tonight. Now.”
She shifted to stand like a soldier at ease, shoulders relaxed, hands behind her back. “We’ve discussed this.”
“And we’re done discussing. It’s time to move. Mayweather knows Austin is either hiding out or on the run. He’ll be watching the interstates as soon as he can put a plausible story together and mobilize enough agents. Once that happens, you’ll never get out of Michigan.”
Something like panic lit her eyes. “He can’t travel, Sam.”
“Lee, I want you to think about what will happen if he doesn’t. If Jason gets to him again.”
Austin had never watched someone pale before, not like this, anyway. Lee looked sick. She nodded and breathed deep, seemed to fortify herself from the inside out.
It hit him, what Sam was saying. Why Sam had brought him here. “You want me to go with them.”
“No choice,” Sam said. “You don’t have to live in Texas for the rest of your life. Just lay low there while all this crap explodes. Think of it as a protection detail. You’ve got a badge and a gun and you’re able-bodied.”
Protection. Yeah. No way Violet should be driving across the country with a sick, beaten man and a woman who could be made of twigs. He nodded.
Lee’s hands, held behind her back, fell to her sides. She nodded back. After a long moment, Violet nodded too.
“You’ll take my truck.” Sam jingled the keys in his pocket. “I drove it for that very purpose. It’s got a cap, and the license plate won’t trace to any of you. We’ll throw everything we can fit in the bed, including the air mattress for Marcus. Until you get out of Michigan, Austin stays hidden with him. Then you can rotate drivers.”
The man had planned their entire trip. For the next hour, a sorting and packing frenzy ensued. They stocked the bed of Sam’s truck with everything from cans of soup to medical supplies.
It hadn’t taken long to figure out what this house was. Not really a house, not in furnishings, anyway. The spacious living room had been turned into something like a sickbay. Two air mattresses were set up along one wall, white sheets and white woven blankets tucked around them. On the other side of the room sat an actual medical exam table with green vinyl upholstery. Black market medicine. It was the only thing that made sense.
In the kitchen, Austin found Violet stocking a mini-cooler with ice and frozen gel packs.
“For Marcus,” she said without looking at Austin. “And your wrist.”
“Thanks.”
She turned to face him. Her lips pressed into a line of doubt, but her eyes held a depth of care that almost undid his resolution not to sweep her into his arms. The four months of distance evaporated as she stepped closer and tugged down his collar. She studied the bruise on his throat, then lifted her eyes to his.
For once in his life, he understood before he opened his mouth that words would ruin this. The memory of her taste, her touch, pulsed through him, and her eyes were wells of the same memories—except of him.
For about two seconds, he thought she’d let him kiss her.
Violet’s hand dropped to her side. She stepped back as if realizing how close they were.
Still nothing to say. He went back to work, adrenaline thrumming in the background of everything else. I’m leaving. My home. My work. My family. Not forever, but for now. If only he could call Esther and explain. She’d think he abandoned them.
Both Violet and Lee kept a duffel of clothes here, which probably shouldn’t have surprised Austin as much as it did. Something surged in his chest when he shoved Violet’s bag into the truck bed alongside his own. Sam had popped the hood and bent over the guts of his truck, inspecting before sending it on a cross-country trek.
Austin stopped beside him. “I won’t let anything happen to them.”
Sam straightened. “They’re good, strong people, Austin. Including Violet.”
No one needed to tell him about Violet. “If they stay in Texas, you can fly out for a visit or something.”
His lips curved, a smile’s ghost. “You haven’t thought of it yet either?”
“Thought of what?”
“Someone has to go down for the crimes of the network. The media won’t rest without a villain to show behind bars.”
Shoot. He was right. “Come with us, then.”
“Not enough room in the truck.”
“Sam—”
“It’ll take a few days to set myself up. If I do it right, they’ll have no reason to come after you and no legal justification even if they wanted to.”
“Lee’s going to—”
“She’s thinking about Marcus, and only Marcus, and that’s how it needs to be right now. Don’t you dare say a word.”
“Don’t do this, Sam.”