After the nap she’d had in the boat, Cyan barely slept. The distracting man snoring softly in the other bed hadn’t helped. The next morning they hit a drive thru fast food place for a quick breakfast and super sugary coffee, and then headed to the library to email the contents of the SD card to Nate’s brothers. He’d explained that much to her, and if she was getting help from the director of the Marshals, then Cyan figured she couldn’t ask for better.
Some of the times she’d felt the safest were when US Marshals showed up. Or when Jonathan had held her hand when she was four. She remembered his big, rough hand and the cold winter night in Spokane that December. Christmas, and she’d spent it in protective custody with her mom. Two days later they’d been flown to the WITSEC town of Sanctuary.
She’d never seen Jonathan after that. Not even after she and her mom left Sanctuary and Cyan had looked him up. Once the best kind of police officer, Jonathan had made a tragic mistake he was now paying for in jail. He’d told her all about it in his letters, about how God had saved him—just not from the consequences of his actions. For the first time in her life, grace had made sense. From a prisoner to a girl who had always felt trapped no matter where she was. Cyan hadn’t known freedom until Jonathan told her about the love of God.
Now her life was crumbling again, and she wasn’t afraid. God would see her through this, no matter how crazy it got.
“Where now?”
Cyan glanced at Nate, who was driving again—what was it with guys that they always had to drive?—and then at the street they were on. “We’re going to the library.”
“Okay, is it left or right?”
She blinked. “You don’t know where the library is?”
Nate’s lips curled up at the corners, flashing a dimple. “Is this a deal-breaker on our friendship?”
Cyan lifted her chin, fighting the smile that wanted out. “It might be.”
Could she honestly trust someone who didn’t even know where the library was? Even if he had all the money in the world to buy whatever books he wanted, he should still at least have a working knowledge of how to borrow one.
“Left and then left again.” She pointed at the next set of lights.
Nate parked at the far corner of the lot and pulled on the baseball cap that’d been laying on the floor of the truck. Walking around with the Miami team logo on his head probably wasn’t a great idea, but Cyan figured he couldn’t wear another team’s hat. His head would probably catch on fire.
Cyan signed in under her library card number, figuring that was probably safe from bad guy surveillance, and then headed to an available computer. The library was kind of crowded, but it was mostly a group of moms and little kids probably here for story time. No one else looked suspicious or glanced overlong at them.
Nate sat while she pulled the SD card out and slid it in its slot on the tower. He squinted and leaned closer, grumbling.
Cyan pulled up the chair next to him and whispered, “What?”
“I should’ve brought my glasses.”
“Oh.” She grinned.
Nate set the cell phone by the keyboard and finger-pecked his way to his email inbox in twice the time it would have taken Cyan—that might also be a deal-breaker. Who didn’t know how to type? Two boys zoomed around them play-acting like they were planes, despite their mom’s attempts to keep them quiet. One of the boys stopped and peered at Nate.
“Nate Mason!” He sucked in a breath and yelled, “Mom, its Nate Mason!”
Everyone turned to look. Cyan groaned, but they were pretty much busted. Half the moms had their phones out, ready to snap a picture.
Nate stood, hands up. “Ladies. I haven’t even fixed my hair.” He chuckled, and they all laughed with him, charmed by his Mason good looks. She remembered that much about Grant, though their personalities were really different. The same was probably true for the sheriff and the brother who was helping them.
Nate leaned down to the boy who’d recognized him. “You like football, kid?”
“Football!” The boy held up a picture book. On the front was a pig in a football uniform and helmet.
Nate smiled. “Awesome.”
“Uh…uh...” The kid swallowed, thinking through what he was about to say in that way little kids had. “Maybe you could…uh, read for story time?”
“You know what?” Nate said. “That sounds like a great idea.” Cyan gaped, but he touched her shoulder and leaned down. “I’ll give you some space and be back in a few minutes when you’re done. That sound good?” His eyes flicked to the screen for a second.
Cyan followed his gaze to where he’d already entered two email addresses on the new message. Right. “Thanks.”
The unmistakable click of cell phone cameras caught that split second while they looked at each other, and then Nate straightened, breaking the moment. “Okay, kids. Lead the way.”
The hoard of small children dragged him to a corner of cushy couches where they settled around him—some of them sitting on him—and Nate started to read the book.
Cyan turned back to the computer. She sent the pictures as a zip file, which thankfully didn’t take long.
Nate’s phone vibrated on the table.
Daire.
Cyan hit the button on top and cut off the call. She didn’t want to listen to threats, not when out of the corner of her eye she could see Nate talking intently with a group of preschoolers while their moms took pictures. There was no way she was going to invite danger, or murderers, to the library. She also wasn’t going to risk saying the wrong thing to whoever was on the phone and getting him hurt more. Or had it been Daire calling because he was free? Maybe she should’ve answered it.
The phone didn’t ring again, so whoever was calling wasn’t desperate to get a hold of Nate, or her.
Now she didn’t know what the right move was.
Cyan did what anyone did when they didn’t know what else to do. She went on Facebook. It wouldn’t take long for Nate’s presence at story time to go viral. Would the creepy guy and the men who were after her, or that woman, Mimi, see it?
They had to get going.
She turned and Nate saw it. He held up one finger and she nodded. Cyan looked at the new notifications from her neighbor, chatting about the break-in for anyone to see. Vanessa had also shared an article about an altercation at the club last night.
Cyan clicked through and read the article. The police had found the offices and hall empty, and blood on the floor. No one saw what had happened. They were calling for anyone who knew about it to contact them with information. Cyan noted down the phone number and shoved the paper in her back pocket, logged out, and swiped up Nate’s phone.
She stood, almost colliding with a leather jacket surrounded by a cloud of cigar smell.
She held her breath and stepped to the side. The giant guy did the same. She looked up at his worn face and the long beard that touched his chest. “Excuse me.”
“Cyan Greene.”
She took a step back. A reflex, but it was what it was. Even without a childhood spent in witness protection, she would likely still feel weird about strangers knowing her name. If she’d been able to persuade her mom, Cyan would have sung under an assumed name. Heaven knew she had enough identities; one more wouldn’t have killed her. But, no. Her mom had been in love with the name she’d picked, so Cyan didn’t have the luxury of anonymity now that her singing career had floundered.
She shrugged, going for nonchalance. “The singer? Sure, I guess I look like her a little. But I’m not her. Sorry.”
Her gaze flitted over to Nate, who was looking up at her from the book. She shook her head. This situation wasn’t going to improve if he got involved. She moved to step around the stranger, but the guy grabbed her elbow. “Know you when I see you.”
Nate’s phone rang. She lifted it and saw Daire’s name on the screen. “I should get this. It’s my boyfriend. He’s really protective of me.”
The big man huffed, but she managed to pull away from him. Nate excused himself from the kids and met her halfway. She held up the phone so he could see who was calling.
His eyes widened, and he answered it. “Yes?”
The story time moms were still taking pictures, and some were trying to get Nate’s attention.
“That’s not going to happen.” His eyes darkened, his gaze flitting around the room like men were going to jump out any second and start shooting at everyone.
She whispered, “We should go.”
Nate nodded. This time it was Cyan who grabbed his hand and tugged him to a side room with an emergency exit. The bar sounded an alarm, but they were outside and jogging across the parking lot within seconds.
He spoke into the phone. “Maybe, maybe not.”
Nate gritted his teeth, but she didn’t know if it was the phone call or his foot. The limp was worse today.
Cyan looked back and saw the biker guy staring at them out the open door. No one else seemed to be lurking, and she didn’t see any cops. Or anyone trying to kill them.
They piled in the truck, and Nate drove away.
“You give me Daire. Then we’ll talk.”
Cyan glanced at him. Would he pay a price to regain his friend, even though Daire seemed to think he didn’t need any help? Was Cyan only here because Nate wanted to trade her and the SD card for his friend? As much as she knew about Nate Mason, she couldn’t see that happening. But who knew? Maybe he would give her up.
Publicity said he volunteered with local children’s programs, that he “gave back” to the community. Cyan of all people knew the difference between public knowledge and the truth.
Nate hung up. Cyan braced for whatever was going to happen next, her gaze on the buildings and houses passing by as he drove.
“You okay?”
She shrugged. “Sure. Peachy.”
She had no clean clothes, no purse, no cell phone, nothing personal at all on her, and she was on the run from a murderer. A man—one she didn’t even know—had been kidnapped. He could die because of her.
The last twelve hours had left her wrung out and lacking hope.
Cyan flicked the radio on and tuned it to a Christian station that played up-beat music. She needed to refocus fast or she would misstep and probably get herself caught.
Or killed.