The woman took two steps backward before turning and walking quickly toward the exit door. Her guitar was steady by her side, and she almost made it to the door just before the exit. Nate watched her grasp the handle as the men caught up to her, and he couldn’t hold himself back.
Daire muttered under his breath. “Nate…”
His friend wanted him to stay out of it? That wasn’t going to happen.
The two men were trying to usher her farther down the hall, toward the exit door. The woman tried to plant her feet, but they just moved her along.
“…come with us.”
She shook her head, and her gaze locked on Nate storming toward her. Her eyes widened, but he sidled up to her as fast as he could while still looking casual.
“Ready to go, babe?”
“Uh…”
Didn’t she know she was supposed to play along? Nate stuck out his hand, and she grabbed it with hers, holding on tighter than he’d have thought she was capable of doing.
“I don’t think so.” The closest man shot him a look, flicking the side of his suit jacket open to reveal the gun holstered under his arm.
Nate reached up and touched his earlobe, then turned and got between the woman and the two men. Daire came out of nowhere, grabbed the first one’s wrist and twisted it behind his back. He caught the second one at the same time, squeezing his neck until he collapsed onto the floor.
The woman whimpered, but Nate wanted to see his friend in action. Daire was way good at this stuff.
Daire moved in so his face was close to the man he had in his grip. “Explain.”
The man didn’t even breathe. “She’s supposed to come with us. The boss is outside, and he wants his stuff back.”
The woman stiffened, even as Daire said, “What is it?”
The man shifted, wincing, probably because of Daire’s grip on him. “He didn’t tell me. But she’ll know.”
“Take your buddy and get out of here.”
The man shook his head. “We come back with her and whatever she stole, or we don’t come back at all.”
Daire glanced at the woman. “What did you take?”
“Nothing, I—I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
Daire frowned at her answer.
She backed away from Nate, pulling against his hand still holding hers until he let go. She rushed away, opening a door and ducking inside with her guitar.
“Should I get her?”
Daire said, “We don’t have to get involved. We can make sure she gets away from here safely, but if she’s in trouble, she needs to disappear.”
She came back out with a ratty purse and her guitar now in a case, the cyan-colored pendant around her neck swinging with her eagerness to leave. “I don’t need your help. There’s someone I can call.”
Nate didn’t believe it. Her dark coloring contrasted the now pale tone of her skin, and the grip she had on her stuff was shaky.
Nate said, “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“No, you can’t leave.” The suited man winced as Daire’s grip on him tightened. He reached across with his opposite hand and tried to get his gun, but Daire slammed him against the wall. “I think not.”
“Nate? Nate Mason?” A delighted laugh followed. “Every time I see one of your family someone gets in a fight.”
He shot Mimi a look. “You’re the cause of most of them.”
The singer edged toward the exit door, still gripping her guitar. Nate stepped that way. For some reason he just couldn’t let her walk away. Not without being sure she was going to be all right.
Mimi looked at the younger woman. “I hope you’ve changed your mind about my offer.”
The older man came out into the hall, too, the one who’d dragged her away from Nate. “You’re making a big mistake.”
Nate looked over in time to see her shake her head. “I’m sorry. I’m done.” She hit the bar on the door with her hip and pushed her way outside.
Nate turned back to his bodyguard. “I’ll see her out.”
When Daire nodded, Nate followed her out to the dark parking lot. “Which car is yours?”
She swung round, nearly beaming him in the thigh with her guitar case. “I…uh, I took the bus.”
Nate waved her toward Daire’s truck. “I could give you a ride home.” It wasn’t a question, because he didn’t want her to refuse. “I’m not making a pass, and I’m not up to anything. I’d just like to see you home safe.”
She didn’t say anything, but she did start to walk beside him.
“You know who those guys were?”
She shot him a wary look. “Are you a cop?”
He chuckled. “Not hardly. Though I guess I know enough to speak some of their language.”
Nate pulled the spare set of keys from his pocket. Daire insisted he carried them, for exactly this situation. Who knew when one of Daire’s crazy “what if” scenarios would actually happen? Nate remotely unlocked the truck and opened the front passenger door for her. She glanced from the truck to him. Was she still deciding whether to go with him or take off on her own?
Nate decided to let her have a minute, hidden as they were by the vehicle. Maybe Daire would come out and tell them everything was okay now, that there was no “boss” out here waiting for the woman, and she wasn’t in some crazy kind of danger. Had she really stolen something?
“Why don’t you tell me your name?”
She bit her lip. “Cyan.”
Looking up at him, she seemed so young. Every ounce of protectiveness swelled in him, more than it had in the hall when her manager dragged her away. This woman drew him like some tragic metaphor where a helpless creature is lured to its death. Nate had always jumped in head first, ever since he’d met his third grade teacher. He hadn’t grown out of it, so he tended not to date much. When he fell, he fell hard, and it usually ended up messy when it went bad.
He’d had to pay his last girlfriend, who Ben had dubbed “the gold digger,” three hundred thousand just to stay away.
Cyan—he pretty much loved her just for her name—didn’t seem like she’d be like that, but his radar permanently malfunctioned on all that stuff, so he couldn’t put any stock in it.
“I’m Nate.” Did she know who he was? He hadn’t met a woman in a while who didn’t, but he enjoyed being surprised.
“Hi, Nate.” She was still pale, looking more at the design on his T-shirt than his face. Nate touched her hand, finding her fingers cold and a gentle tremor there.
“It’s nice to meet you, Cyan. I wish it were under better—”
Screeching tires pulled around the building, a van was headed right for them.
She pushed him away and jumped in the truck. “Time to go!”
Cyan gripped the door as they shot around a corner. Did the truck just lift up on two wheels? She really hoped this Nate guy knew what he was doing. He’d been calm under pressure in the hallway, but he could be worse than any of them. Only the fact he looked familiar kept her head straight as they raced down streets.
She chanced a look behind them and saw the van three cars back. “They’re still behind us.”
“I know.” His jaw set, Nate handed her his phone. “The code is zero-five-one-two. Go in my call history and find Daire.”
Daire? Was it a name or a joke? “Okay, I’ve got it.” Cyan listened until she heard the dial tone. “It’s ringing.”
Nate took it and put the call on speaker. It rang until it switched to voice mail. “Shoot.” He tossed the phone in the cup holder and tapped the steering wheel, his foot heavy on the gas. “Did you really steal from someone?”
Was she supposed to answer his accusation? That wasn’t a question or an inquiry. Cyan folded her arms.
“They’re chasing us because you’re a thief, and you’re going to say nothing? I could get in serious trouble if the police get involved. Accusations that might never go away.”
Cyan figured that meant he might actually understand where she was coming from. She decided to take the risk, since the SD card was burning a hole in her pocket. “If I don’t tell you, then you can deny all knowledge of it. But if you want to know, then fine. Here’s the short version. I didn’t steal anything; I found it. It is theirs, though that’s arguable, but I can’t let them have it.”
If he knew how serious this was, he’d probably freak out and kick her out of the car.
Her stupid computer. That was the only explanation, the only possible trigger for officially the number three of the top five worst nights of her life so far. She’d assumed it was her computer fritzing up like normal, but it could just as easily have been sending out some kind of signal.
She sighed. “I have to hand it to the right person.”
“And who is that?”
“A friend of mine who will take care of it.” If she mentioned the US Marshals, he’d be on the road to guessing what it was and why she might have it. That would be a violation of her exit deal with the witness protection program.
His jaw flexed. “If you’re going to offer me half-truths, maybe you should get out here.”
She glanced out at the side of the street they were racing down. Then Cyan looked at him, her head cocked to the side. “I would if you weren’t driving a hundred miles an hour.”
She knew she’d hit the mark when Nate glanced down at the speedometer and let his foot off the gas pedal. She’d been exaggerating, but that wasn’t the point. If she died in a fiery car crash, the SD card would probably be the one thing that survived, and those guys in the van would wind up prying it from her cold dead hands. Or pocket. Whatever.
Cyan would dearly like to know who they were. Her uncle had died in prison, but he’d had business associates. Or maybe rivals who knew about the SD card and wanted it back.
Cyan balled her fist and slammed it down on her leg. Why hadn’t she left it alone? Her mom had hidden it all these years. Cyan should have tucked it away as well.
Maybe if she told whoever was after it that it’d been broken and she hadn’t been able to view any files…
No, they’d probably want it anyway. Would they kill her, though? That was the point. How much danger was she—Cyan glanced at Nate—were they in?
“I think we lost them.”
Cyan glanced out the back again but couldn’t see the van anymore. Evening traffic was heavy, which may have just saved their lives. Not that the streets of Miami were ever really quiet.
“Turn left up there.” She’d have to grab a few things from home before she went on the run from the people trying to capture her. She sighed.
When Nate pulled onto her street, she saw his eyes widen. Okay, so she didn’t live in the best neighborhood, but she didn’t need him to judge her for it.
Then she saw what he had.
Police cars were parked at all angles by the curb, along with a white van, around the steps up to her second floor apartment. She and Nate opened their doors at the same time, and Cyan walked around the car to where he stood watching.
Nate said, “I’ll wait here and keep on look-out for the van.”
She nodded, figuring it was all the same to her whether he came with her or waited. “Just don’t leave, because you have my guitar.” She figured in getting her out of there so far, he’d earned that much trust.
Cyan walked toward the police vehicles. At the bottom of the steps she glanced back. Nate leaned against the car with his face down, so the ball cap kept his face from view. Why didn’t he want anyone to recognize him? Sure, he looked familiar, but what was it about him that made him feel like he needed to hide from view? Maybe he just didn’t want to get in trouble. Or in more trouble. Was that it?
He couldn’t possibly have more secrets than she did.
Could he?
“Smile for Instagram!” The flash of light blinded her for a second, and then Vanessa Rae appeared in front of her. Cyan’s neighbor waved to a uniformed man beside her. “This is Cyan Greene, the famous singer. It’s her apartment.”
Sure, she was totally famous. That’s why Nate didn’t even recognize her, and neither did really anyone. Not anymore.
Vanessa kept talking. “Honey, your apartment is cray-zee. Totally trashed.”
Cyan looked toward her front door, moving that way before she even realized what she was doing. The officer held out a hand to stall her.
“You probably don’t want to look just yet.”
“I need to get some things.” She needed to get out of there, too, but the cop was looking intently at her. Should she just give him the SD card and wash her hands of the whole thing? That would get it out of circulation right now, and she wouldn’t have to worry. Vanessa Rae could Instagram that for the world to see.
But was it the right thing? It seemed kind of amoral to try and save herself at the expense of the good she could do if she gave the SD card to the right person. If the cop was anything but upright, people who’d been hurt by whoever was in the photos wouldn’t get justice, and more might be harmed if Cyan didn’t put an end to them. She’d already been in witness protection once, and she’d enjoyed that life in her small town. The real world hadn’t really lived up to the hype.
And yet the idea of testifying like her mother had made her want to run for cover. Was a quiet, anonymous life too much to ask for?
The cop said, “What I need from you is to take a look and tell me if anything’s missing. You think you can do that?”
Cyan nodded. “Will it help you catch who did this?”
“It could, but cases like this it’s either random or it’s someone you know. So unless there’s a person who has a grudge and you think they might’ve done this, it doesn’t look likely. We’ll do a full investigation, but it’ll take time. It may even be weeks before we come up with a viable suspect to make an arrest.” He sighed. “Our people are in there now, and when they’re done you can take a look.”
Cyan looked at her front door and the stuff strewn on her doorstep. It was like being swallowed whole. Where was she supposed to go now? This couldn’t be random. They knew where she lived.
“Can I do this tomorrow?” Cyan backed up a step and saw Vanessa frown. If she took another picture, Cyan was liable to get arrested for punching her in the face. “It’s really late, and”—She sniffed for good measure—“I don’t think I can look at my apartment like this right now.”