Cyan watched the man walk away. He reminded her a little of Jonathan. Her old friend had been there for her through the worst times of her life. Jonathan might be an unconventional choice for a friend but it was what it was. Too bad he couldn’t help all that much from a prison cell in Washington State. Hearing his voice always made her feel better. He’d been there when she was a child, scared out of her mind and watching her life unravel. Sure, he’d made mistakes and exchanged his police badge for a prison jump suit, but God had redeemed his life. He was a huge part of the reason Cyan was a believer now.
Nate tugged on her hand. Was he going to let go anytime soon? She had to admit, if only to herself, that she didn’t want him to release her. The night was warm, a breeze blowing salty air along with strands of hair across her face. On any other evening it’d be almost like an actual date. If she ever actually went on one of those.
Cyan was glad he’d let her drop the subject of her falling asleep on the run. Yeah, it was a weird response to stress, but it wasn’t like she could help it. Cyan didn’t especially want to be caught unawares. It had been a testament to Nate’s presence in the boat that she’d rested, knowing he’d tell her if she was in immediate danger.
The truck was in the same state of disrepair as the boat, indicative of its owner. What kind of a name was Boomer? She didn’t even want to know what made a craggy old man with a name like that just hand over his boat…or his truck. Yet another spark of hope in the world tonight. Coupled with Nate’s concern at the club, it made for one very bizarre evening of good versus bad.
Cyan climbed in the rusty truck and reached for her seatbelt…but there wasn’t one. The seat was frayed, and it smelled like gasoline. She put her hands in her lap while the engine fought to fire up. Eventually it coughed to life, sputtering out the back. When Nate started them rolling down the drive, she said, “Where are we headed?”
Once again she was at the mercy of someone she prayed would do the right thing. Not like the epic failure her mom had been. Although that mess had landed them in Sanctuary—the one place in the world Cyan was actually happy. Now she could never go back, and she was the master of her own destiny. Which was going super well.
Nate said, “Well, my place is out. They’ll look for you at yours, even if the police are still there.” His jaw worked back and forth. “I have a little cash. How about one night in a hotel, on me?”
Cyan sighed. “My wallet is in your house, along with my phone. Which at this point probably isn’t a bad thing except for the fact I won’t know when Steve calls back.” She couldn’t be tracked, but she wanted her guitar. Dragging it along with her on the run wasn’t practical. Not that she cared too much. She’d spent her first real big check on that guitar, and it’d been with her ever since.
Now that she’d told her manager that she wanted out of the music business, things were supposed to be better. Not that she had a plan. The one time she’d spoken to a church about their music program they’d Googled her and found the stories—antics detailed in newspaper articles that weren’t even true, but they’d still caused the pastor to write her off. So much for grace. Apparently some people didn’t understand it.
God, what does this SD card have to do with my future? I need a job, not a new life on the run. This can’t be Your plan.
If her mom hadn’t signed her out of Sanctuary, she could have stayed. Made her own way in the town, maybe taken some college classes. It would have been weird after she’d given Matthias his ring back, but she would have been happier than this life trying to live out her mom’s dreams.
Cyan sighed. “Those men are going to find us again, aren’t they?”
Nate gripped the steering wheel. “So long as we don’t use credit cards and we stay off the radar we have a good chance of hiding. If I get us a room somewhere tonight, we can rest. Tomorrow I’ll find a phone. My brother will know what to do and how to find out if Daire is okay.”
Cyan didn’t have any problem with Grant Mason being involved. The man was a career federal marshal, and if they needed anyone’s help, then she would rather it was someone she already knew to be trustworthy. He could get a message to Steve.
Cyan closed her eyes, resting her head on the headrest. The creepy guy from the office stared at her from behind her eyelids. From the shore behind Nate’s house he’d aimed his gun and pretended to fire. His intention was clear, he was coming for her. Could they hide well enough that creepy guy and the people who wanted the SD card wouldn’t find them?
She turned then, looking back out the cloudy window. “Huh.”
A low rumble preceded an orange glow that lit the sky, flames flicking up in a column.
“That’s weird. It looks like it’s coming from…”
Nate slowed the truck then looked back as well. “Boomer’s house.”
He looked at her, dread in his eyes. “Did they find him?”
Cyan let her sluggish brain catch up. “Or they came after us, and Boomer blew his house up?”
“It’s probably full of old explosives. Maybe it was an accident.”
“Do you really believe that?”
The motel was what Nate expected for eighty bucks and no ID, no questions asked. But it had cable, so he settled on the bed and flicked through movie channels and sports channels looking for a news report, watching for Boomer’s sooty face cracked in a smile going on about how he’d bested a bunch of amateurs.
Cyan drifted around, looking but mostly not touching. It was becoming familiar having her with him, even if they were running for their lives. Tied together in no other way than they’d simply been in the same place at the same time.
“Should we try and call the police from here? Or my friend or your brother?” She cocked her head to the side. “Maybe too much has happened not to tell the police what’s going on. If we don’t tell them where we are and what we know about my apartment, your house, and the explosion, then they’re probably going to think it’s suspicious that we’ve disappeared.”
Nate sat up. “If you want to call them from here or find a payphone and meet them somewhere else, that’s fine with me.”
“Why would you suggest that? Do you not want the police to come here?”
“I have no problem with the police. That’s not what this is. I know some great cops, but my brother Grant is a professional, and my other brother is Daire’s boss. I’d like Grant to handle this, if he can. I have to really watch what is said about me in public. Yes, we walked away from an altercation and then two break-ins, plus whatever that explosion was. Not big stuff, but there’s an outside chance legally this could get sticky for us.”
Nate didn’t need more bad publicity on top of the problems he already had.
She looked at him for a second and then said, “Do you think we should give the SD card to the police?”
“You trust them?”
Cyan stilled. “I don’t think I want to just hand over the SD card to anyone. Not when it’s proof that we’re not responsible for any of this. We were only there; we were only witnesses. They’re going to think we’re hiding something as it is, given we ran away.”
“You were being chased. Daire should have dealt with the men and then waited for the cops, but we know they caught him instead. I wonder how they got him out of there or if someone else in the club even called the police.” He scrubbed his hands down his face then lifted his head and shot her a smile. “Sorry you’re stuck with a football player who isn’t very good at this.”
Cyan leaned against the TV unit. “I’ve been in worse situations with less qualified people.” She looked like she wanted to say more but didn’t. Or couldn’t.
“Maybe one day you could tell me about it.”
Her brow flickered. “You think we could—I don’t know—be friends or something, after tonight?”
She wasn’t like any of the women he’d ever met. Football groupies, gold-diggers. Women who demanded everything, unashamedly assuming he’d been put on this earth to give everything he had to make their lives easier. He’d been tired of it for a long time. Cyan was like a breath of cinnamon-scented air.
Nate nodded. “I’d like that.”
“Me too.” Her cheeks flushed and she turned aside, studying the motel phone like it was magically going to ring.
Nate grabbed Boomer’s phone from the nightstand. “I’ll make my call now instead of waiting until the morning, if you want me to.”
She nodded without looking at him. Tall, not too slender. It seemed like if he pulled her against him, her head would fit perfectly under his chin. And he wanted to try it. Maybe when this was over, when they were friends, he’d be able to do that. For once in his life he was spending time with a woman who viewed him as a partner and not just a wallet or a toned body.
The phone rang and rang, eventually going to voicemail. “It’s Nate. Call me when you get this.”
He hung up and dialed Grant’s home number instead, since it was the weekend.
A groggy Genevieve, Grant’s wife, answered. “Yes?”
“It’s Nate.” He’d known her practically his whole life. Genevieve had always been with Grant, first as friends and eventually as a couple and married—then as the parents of Nate’s three gorgeous nieces.
“Hey, kiddo.” There was a smile in her voice. “Grant is out for the weekend.”
He looked at his watch. “Sorry I woke you. Out of town, or out of contact?”
“Both.”
“Okay.” Nate smiled at the sleepy sound of her voice. “Go back to sleep, Gen.” His sister-in-law hung up, and Nate looked at Cyan, feeling the remnant of the smile on his face. “My brother is out of town, which is a serious bummer. I don’t think he’s going to be able to help us tomorrow. Maybe even not until Monday.” He sobered. “I’m going to call Ben.”
“Ben?”
“My other brother.”
“You have two brothers?”
Nate smiled. “Three, all older than me. One sheriff, one US marshal, and Ben works freelance security.” At least as near as Nate could explain Ben.
The phone rang twice. When he answered, the background noise was immense. Ben yelled over the sound. A helicopter? “This better be good.”
Two gunshots went off in rapid succession.
Nate said, “I can call you back.”
Ben’s voice came back breathy. “Nate? Talk.”
More gunshots.
“Mimi was present at the attempted kidnapping of a woman by someone I don’t know, who wants the woman and an SD card of evidence. I have both.”
“Where’s Daire?”
“They have him.”
“Cherry?”
“Yes.” The code word Daire had used meant everything was fine and Nate didn’t need to find and help him. And yet he still wanted to.
Silence. Then, “Can you call Grant?”
Nate said, “He’s on vacation.”
“Email the contents of the SD card to Grant and copy me in. As soon as you know something about Daire, call me. The minute I’m free of this, I’ll make a call. Everything else okay?”
“Yes.” He had at least another day before he needed to make his weekly scheduled Skype call with his nephew. Aside from that, there was nothing pressing. And what did that say about Nate’s life?
Ben’s end of the phone quieted. “I’m doing something for John, so I can’t get to you right now or I’d be there.”
“I know.” The president and his wife had been killed a couple of weeks ago, in connection with the WITSEC town John was the sheriff of. Now John was protecting the president’s daughter, and Ben was searching for her husband—a Navy SEAL—so they could then find the president and first lady’s killers. Nate couldn’t justify pulling him off that, even given what was happening with Cyan.
It helped that Ben wanted to be there, though. His brothers had always been quick to come to his rescue…when they weren’t the ones giving him a hard time. “Keep me posted.”
Nate said, “You do the same.”