Romano swore until he ran out of breath, then he inhaled and started over. There was an exit ramp and he took it, crossing three lanes in the process and causing other drivers to spike their brakes and shake their fists. Then he came to a stop on the shoulder in a cloud of dust. “How the hell can there not be a safe deposit box, Lexi?”
She met his eyes, showing backbone that surprised him yet again. “There was one once. I didn’t see any point in keeping it open after my father passed. I had no plans to go back."
The question that sprang to the tip of his tongue was why not. But he bit it back. It didn't matter what her reasons were. He didn't give a damn why a talented young doctor would want to hide herself away in the mountains alone and never emerge into the daylight again. All that mattered was finding this damned formula before White did. And then killing the bastard.
So why was it so hard to keep from asking the question?
He clamped his jaw and put the car into motion again, braking for a light at the end of the ramp, then turning right, having no idea where the hell he was going, just driving. "Go on, tell me the rest.”
She looked at him with wary eyes. Half afraid of him, half hating his guts, as best he could figure. “We’re on the same side, Lexi."
"No, we're not. My father is dead. I’m the only one left to protect his legacy.”
Questions that had nothing to do with this case were burning in Romano's mind again. Questions about her and why she was so determined to protect a dead man who, from what he’d gleaned, hadn’t been very nice to her while he’d been alive.
He forcibly resisted the urge to ask, to delve into her psyche, to search for the source of all the pain he sometimes saw in her eyes. He took the next left. "So what did you do with the contents of the box?"
"I had everything sent to my father's lawyer in Pine Lake.”
“That little village near your log mansion?”
She nodded. “I just wasn't up to going through any more of Father's things at the time. Jim stored everything for me, said it would be there whenever I was ready."
"You're telling me that the notes I’ve been searching for were up there in Pine Lake all along?"
“I’m telling you whatever my father had in that safe deposit box has been up there in Pine Lake all along, yes. I seriously doubt there was anything like what you’re imagining.”
Romano rolled his eyes and sighed through clenched teeth. "And the key you’ve been guarding so closely?"
"That was just an old PO box key. A prop."
He swore some more, pulled the car to a stop on the shoulder of the road so he could watch her face while she spoke. “So I was supposed to trot my ass all the way to New York on this wild-goose chase you set up, and then what? While I sat around trying to figure it out, you were gonna give me the slip, right? Head back up to your precious mountain retreat and grab your father's notes from the lawyer on your way?''
“And my cat.”
"And then what, Lexi?"
"I don’t know. All I know is my father didn’t do what you think he did.”
"Yeah, and I'm Santa Claus."
"I don't understand why you're so angry."
He turned toward her, gripped her shoulders in his hands, and stared right into her eyes. "You just aren't getting it, are you? This plan of yours could have worked! You could have pulled this off, and if you had, I'd have been completely stumped. Pine Lake would be the last place I'd have looked for you. And dammit, you'd have probably ended up dead!"
She shook her head slowly, confusion clouding her eyes.
"Dead, Lexi. Cold and stiff in the ground. No more talking or laughing or flashing those big brown eyes. Nothing. One minute you're fine, and the next... it’s just all over. It's all freaking over.”
His hands had tightened on her shoulders. A little too much, maybe. "Over," he said, his voice lowering, growing harsher and rougher than it should. "For you, anyway. Not for me. I’d have more blood on my hands, one more innocent person dead because of me. And one more is more than I can take."
Her eyes slowly came into focus through the haze that had been clouding his vision. Her eyes, so damned intense they could see things no normal eyes could see. He had the feeling she was reading his scarred soul. She'd managed to shake him right out of his coldness, right out of his mannequin state, and she'd copped yet another peek at the hell that lived inside him.
He relaxed his hands, knowing his grip on her shoulders had been too hard. He steadied his breathing, but still felt her eyes on him. And when he glanced back at her, he saw the way they darted rapidly over his face. Hesitantly, she lifted her hand, as if to press it to his cheek, but stopped in midair.
"You're in so much pain.”
It wasn't a question, the way she said it. More like an observation. One that made his heart bleed. Romano didn't want her sympathy. He could handle just about anything but that.
“You’re changing the subject. We were talking about you.”
"No. I don't think we were."
When traffic cleared, he pulled a U-turn and headed back the way they'd come.
"She was beautiful, your wife."
He only nodded, trying to focus on driving, trying to work out his next step. Revenge. Justice. The blood and pain and death he was going to inflict on White. Those should be the only things on his mind right now. Ugliness, blackness, violence.
"Tell me about her," Lexi said softly, and her voice was like a whisper of music, a soothing melody that played through the noise of hate and rage in his heart. "What was her name?"
"Wendy." He said it automatically, without stopping to think about it first. Then he bit his lip, knowing he shouldn't have answered. He didn't talk about Wendy and the boys. Not to anyone.
She was silent for a moment, and Romano thought maybe she'd decided to grant him a reprieve.
"And what about your little boys?"
You don't talk about them to anyone. You don't talk about your family to anyone. You don't talk—
His thoughts were interrupted by his own raspy voice. “Justin and Jackson.” Why was he talking to her? Why was he compelled to answer her gentle questions? Why didn't he just tell her to shut up and mind her own damned business?
“How old?”
“Justin was four. Jack was only two.”
"No." Her hand rose to her lips and moisture filled her eyes. Then she touched him. There was no stopping her this time. Her hand covered his white-knuckled one on the steering wheel.
His foot hit the brake without his permission. The car jerked to a stop in the middle of the narrow road, and the pickup behind him blasted its horn before going around. He barely noticed. Grief blinded him, and the lump in his throat had swelled to encompass his entire chest. It was suffocating him, choking him. His hands on the wheel clenched tighter and he closed his eyes, shook his head. "I can't do this."
"Yes, you can," she whispered, just as if she knew exactly what he was talking about, even when he wasn’t even sure he knew himself. “It’s all right. Come here."
And he did. Damn him, he did. He turned toward her and let her pull him into her arms. She cradled his head on her shoulder, massaging the back of his neck with one hand, rubbing his back with the other. And it felt good, dammit. It felt good. So good that he put his arms around her waist and squeezed her closer. So good that he didn't pull away when she turned her head and pressed her soft lips to his cheek. He felt the moisture, the warmth between his face and hers, and he wasn't sure whose tears dampened his skin. It didn't matter. He was sinking in a stagnant sea of guilt and fury and pain. And she was suddenly there, buoyant and light, just when he'd been about to drown. Her goodness washed over him like a cleansing, fragrant wave. Somewhere inside a voice whispered, Cling to her and save yourself, Romano. She's your only hope.
And for one, insane moment, he did. He turned his face to her and slid his mouth over her cheek and her jaw, and finally covered her lips. He felt them tremble and then part. It was an invitation he couldn't turn down. She was sweetness and light, innocence and fire, and he'd been without those things for so damned long they were drugging to him. Addictive. All he wanted was more of her, more of her, more of her. Because to let her go would be to return to the bleakness of reality.
It was her whispery sigh that snapped him back to sanity. And as he returned to himself, he knew what he'd done. He couldn't go on with this. It wouldn't be fair to use her that way.
Clenching his jaw, he straightened away from her. He was ashamed and embarrassed by the emotions that had swamped him. His cheeks were still wet.
So were hers. And her eyes, round and wet with glycerin tears. Her swollen lips remained parted, and he wanted them again when he looked at them. So he looked away.
He was supposed to be strong. He was supposed to be in charge, protecting her from White and his thugs. Not turning to her for comfort like one of her patients. Not punishing her by letting his pain become passion and spending all of it on her. She didn't deserve that. What the hell was wrong with him? How did she manage to dig so deeply into his soul with those eyes of hers, extracting his most painful secrets with no more than a word, a look?
"Sorry," he muttered, blinking his eyes clear. He put the car into gear, started driving again.
"There's nothing to—"
"It won't happen again."
"Maybe it should," she whispered. "Maybe you need someone right now."
“What was it, a few hours ago, you told me not to touch you again?”
She lowered her head. “I didn’t know who you really were then.”
“You still don’t know who the hell I am. I don't discuss my family with strangers, Lexi. I am human, though, so I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your distance."
He didn't have to look at her to know his words had hurt her. He knew she winced, could see the flash of pain in her eyes without even turning his head. Too bad. She was apparently one of those females who thought she could heal the world with her soft touch and her smile and a little TLC with her incredible body. And her eyes, don't forget those. Well, she was wrong.
He was stuck with her for a few days, at most. He just had to keep her alive and safe long enough to find the missing formula and send White to hell. That was it.
She was silent for a long time while he drove. He was, too, though his mind was working overtime. It took some effort to put his grief and the faces of his lost little boys back into the deep well of pain that used to be his heart.
It took a lot more effort to bring his thoughts back on track. A plan was what he needed. That was where his mind ought to be.
"Where are we going?" she asked him at last.
"Where do you think?"
She gave him a look that made him feel like a demon for deliberately trying to wound her. It was a defense mechanism, designed to keep her from getting too close to his private hell ever again. He couldn't help it. It was instinctual, and it was necessary.
"We're going back to Pine Lake," he told her. "But we have a few stops to make first.”
*****
Kira and Toni stood outside their half sister Lexia Stoltz’s isolated log cabin. It was a dream, at first glance. Huge, and beautiful, set against a backdrop of pine trees and snow. But when Kira saw the blood on the snow, the dream seemed to take a nightmarish turn.
Kira knocked and the door swung inward slowly, creaking as if to warn them they would not like what they were about to find. She shot a look at Toni, pulled a gun, and said, “Stay here.”
“Sure I will,” Toni said, pulling a gun of her own. Married to a cop, with a long career dishing dirt on crime lords, she had enough experience to hold her own.
Kira supposed she ought to be grateful she’d convinced the pregnant Caitlin to stay home where it was safe. Joey had stayed home, too, but was “tapping in” to the sister she’d never met. She’d promised to keep them posted. Kira wasn’t expecting much. She didn’t believe in psychics.
“Dr. Stoltz?” she called. “Lexia?”
A plaintive yowl was the only reply. The place felt empty except for the fat yellow cat who came out to wind himself around their ankles. There was a giant Christmas tree without a single decoration standing in the front windows. It made her feel unspeakably sad.
Toni closed the door. Kira found a light switch and flipped it on. Then they walked in opposite directions, checking every room on the ground floor, and meeting back where they’d started.
“Anything?” Kira asked.
“Nothing. The cat followed me into the kitchen, though, so I filled his dishes with food and water. Enough to get him through a few days, at least. If we haven’t found her by then, I’ll come back for him.”
Kira nodded, pointing with her eyes. “I’m pretty sure that’s blood, there on the stairs.”
“Shit.”
Together they went up the stairs to the second floor, then split up again to check every room.
From the bathroom, Toni called, “Blood and bandages in the wastebasket. Somebody dressed a wound in here.”
“I’ve got an open bedroom window with a rope ladder hanging from it,” Kira called back.
Toni joined her in the bedroom, eyeing the open window. “Someone came after her, and it looks like she got away,” Toni said slowly.
“Or tried to,” Kira replied.
“Maybe it’s time you told me why the DEA is looking for her, Kira.”
“We’re not, exactly. We’re looking for the guy who’s after her.”
“For?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
Toni pursed her lips and tilted her head.
“Well, I am DEA. So you can figure out where my interest lies. Although this dude has his fingers in so many pies…” She stopped there and nodded. “His drug deals just fund his other illegal enterprises. I’m gonna have Michael check with his contacts in other agencies. CIA. FBI. See if we can coordinate with them.” She was texting while she was speaking.
“Michael? Your husband Michael?”
“Yeah,” she said. “He’s also my partner.”
*****
His sons, Lexi thought. Those adorable little boys in the photos who looked so much like him. They’d been taken from him without warning or reason. God, it was no wonder he was so nasty. The man was in more pain than any human being ought to bear in a lifetime. And his had come all at once.
He had let her hold him, even if it had been brief. He'd turned to her with his anguish. She'd seen a plea in his eyes that he couldn't or wouldn't voice. Help me, Lexi.
Maybe he wasn't even aware of it, but Romano was going to bleed to death from the poison arrows in his heart if he didn't pull them out and start to heal soon.
It was none of her business, though, was it? She barely knew him.
But Lexi had always been drawn to the wounded. The more serious the wound, the more she was compelled to help. It was all twisted up in her psyche, knotted together with the death of her mother and the callousness of a father everyone said was a great man. Mix in the knowledge that she'd never have children of her own, and it was no wonder she was drawn to people she could nurture and heal.
Common sense ought to have some say in the matter, though, and common sense suggested she keep a safe distance from a man who lashed out just to keep her away. A man who'd told her in no uncertain terms that he didn't want her help.
His wounds were too deep, too dangerous. The darkness inside him was devouring him, maybe already had. And if she got too close it would devour her too.
She would try to keep a safe, she vowed in silence. She'd stop asking about his beautiful, lost family. She'd stop caring about his pain. He was nothing to her; why should she care? She'd force herself not to reach out to him again. She could do that. It wasn't such an impossible task.
They rode in silence through the small town they'd discovered nearby, pulling in at a used car dealership where Romano went inside.
Alone in the car, Lexi couldn’t help wondering if he’d been a different man before his wife and sons had died. She tried to picture him happy, content, affectionate. But it was a terrible stretch of the imagination.
"Mrs. Jones?"
There was a tap on her window and Lexi jumped, then turned to see the round, friendly face of a salesman staring in at her. She put the window down.
"Mrs. Jones, come take a look. We can't have your husband making a purchase this important without your input now, can we?"
Frowning, she opened the door and got out, allowing the salesman to lead her around the lot to where Romano was just stepping out of a motor home the size of a tank. He met her confused gaze and smiled... actually smiled at her. The perfect image of the devoted husband. He crossed to where she stood, draped an arm around her shoulders.
"Well, honey, what do you think?" He waved his free hand toward the house on wheels.
His arm felt warm and heavy on her shoulders. She resisted the urge to lean into him, or slide her arm around his waist.
"I... uh... I'm not sure what to think."
"It has everything. Perfect for our trip. Go on inside, take a look."
She blinked at him. He'd converted himself into the image of the American sightseer, evoking images of campfires and hot dogs.
Without a word, she stepped into the camper, but she wasn't really looking at it. She just walked around, pretending to check it out, while he chatted outside with the salesman.
When he poked his head inside, he was back to his former, cold demeanor. "Get our stuff out of the car and stash it in here while I finish up the paperwork.”
He said it as if he expected her immediate compliance. So she said, “No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’?” His words fell like icy rain, chilling her right to the bone.
“I mean, no. You can’t just give orders and expect me to carry them out. I don’t work for you.”
He sighed, lowered his head and pulled the camper door shut. “What do you want, Lexi?”
“I want to know the plan. I want to know why we’re buying a used RV and where we’re taking it. And how the hell you explained the busted-out rear window in the Porsche, or didn’t he even ask about that?”
He took a slow breath and she got the feeling he was struggling for patience. “He did ask.”
“And?”
“And it was a freak accident. Chunk of ice slid off a roof and right through the window.
"Why are we changing vehicles?” she asked.
"Because White's seen the car."
“But why a camper? Why not a pickup truck or a mini-van or a compact? Why this huge RV?"
“Why all the questions?" he countered. "Look, I do this kind of thing for a living. I know my job, okay?”
He’d looked into her eyes as he’d snapped his reply, but when she flinched, he looked away. She thought she glimpsed guilt, just for a second. Maybe he didn’t like hurting her.
“The last thing White would find suspicious is a vehicle like this,” he said, and his tone was kinder. “And having a place to sleep might come in handy. No more ambushes in motel parking lots. We can't exactly take up residence at your house in the woods again. Hell, White probably left men posted there in case we come back."
"I don't think he’d have any reason to do that." She thinned her lips, tilted her head, still not looking at him. "So that’s the plan, we’re heading back to Pine Lake?”
“Yeah, to get the contents of your father’s safe deposit box from his lawyer.”
“And then?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. That’s all I’ve got. I guess it depends on what we find.” He looked at her again. “Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.”