| |
Kate reached the table where Dave still sat and held out the bag that now contained her gym clothes. "Thank you."
"You're sure this is the only way?" he asked.
"I'm sure."
Dave climbed to his feet and took the paper bag from her. "Then forget the thanks," he said gruffly, looping an arm around her shoulders, "and just promise me you'll come back in one piece."
"I promise." She returned her partner's hug, met Jonas's grim expression over his shoulder, and stepped back. "We should get going. I want to make the bridge as soon as possible, before your friends decide to file paperwork on me as well."
For a second, she thought Jonas might object yet again to her continued presence, but instead he glanced at Dave, paused, and then gave a single, cryptic nod.
"Ready when you are."
"Johnstown?" Dave asked.
Kate nodded. "The border guards there don’t ask me for ID anymore." Liaising with them was a major part of her job working with Dave, and she’d come to know most of them as friends. Most of them. "I’ll tell them I left my wallet in Ottawa.”
“You really think they’ll let you through?” Dave looked skeptical.
“I think it’s our best chance. Our only other option is to try a river crossing somewhere, and that will take too long."
"What about after you cross?"
She looked askance at Jonas.
"New Jersey. Newark." Jonas replied. "I have resources there."
Dave nodded. He held out a set of keys to Kate. "All right. There's another grand in my savings account if you run short. Take what you need. The SUV is parked on Dalhousie. Insurance and registration are in the glove box.”
Kate took the keys from him. “What will you tell Julie?”
“That I loaned it to a friend whose vehicle broke down. She buses to work, so I can use hers. What do you want me to tell the office?"
"Play dumb. You haven’t seen me or heard from me. There's no point in you going down with me."
Her partner nodded again, and his somber gaze met hers. "Be careful out there, Dexter. No more hospital visits, understand?"
***
Kate glanced at the glowing blue numbers on the dashboard clock. Ten forty-nine. The deeper dark of the countryside had settled about them after they left the city, dotted with lights from homes and farms set back from the highway. Above the shadowed trees, a full moon had begun its ascent, a bright, shining disk hanging in the sky. Jonas's presence loomed in the passenger seat beside her. He hadn't said boo to her since they'd left Dave at the bar, and the hour's drive to the U.S. bridge had begun to feel like a lifetime.
She didn't even want to think about the days to come.
Lips pressed tight, she adjusted the rearview mirror, noting a set of headlights about a half kilometer back. She supposed Jonas was having some issues coming to terms with their unplanned partnership. Frankly, she was having issues, too, now that they'd managed to escape the immediate threat and the accompanying adrenaline rush. How in the name of sanity had she managed to convince herself that taking up Jonas Burke's cause was a good idea? A man who claimed to have no friends and more than his share of enemies. Who even now maintained a taut, stubborn silence that seethed with his disapproval at her involvement.
And, last but far from least, whose every shift against seat leather made her libido do a sinuous shimmy from the roots of her hair to the soles of her feet.
She exhaled in a gust that drew a glance from Jonas. Not that she could see him look her way in the dark, but she could sure as hell feel it.
Her toes curled inside her running shoes. She glanced again into the rearview mirror. The headlights were still there. Still the same distance back. She eased her pressure on the gas pedal, and Dave's SUV slowed fractionally. If the lights caught up and passed them, all was good. If they maintained their distance, however...
Jonas cleared his throat, startling her into a small swerve over the center line.
"Seeing as how I can't get rid of you and we have some time to kill," he said lazily, "I suppose you might as well tell me about yourself."
She raised an eyebrow. "Small talk, Agent Burke? Are you sure you can handle that?"
"It's going to be a long few days if we're not speaking."
"True." Kate rested an arm along the base of the driver's window and flexed her one-handed grip on the steering wheel. "Fine. What would you like to know?"
"You could start by telling me about your shoulder."
From silent to blunt. There didn't seem to be a happy medium where conversation with this man was concerned.
"Jennings said I should ask," he added.
Kate frowned. Dave knew she didn't like to talk about the shooting. Why—?
"He seemed to think I was operating under a misapprehension where your policing skills were concerned."
Ah. A smile tugged at Kate's lips. "Maybe a little," she agreed.
"So—the shoulder?"
"I was shot. Drug raid."
A cough. Then, "You. In a drug raid."
She glanced sideways at his shadowy form. "You did catch the part about me being a cop, right?"
"You just didn't strike me as that experienced. I stand corrected. How long did you work narcotics?"
"I didn't."
"Uniformed backup?"
"Third through the door, actually. Tactical."
The hair prickled along the nape of her neck. Those headlights in the mirror weren't any closer. Damn. She eased off the gas another fraction.
"No wonder Jennings found me so amusing," Jonas muttered. "You should have told me."
"You didn't ask, and it didn't seem—"
"Worth the effort?" he interrupted.
"Important," she said, her brows drawing together at the bitterness underlying his words. "You were going to be leaving, and I was going back to my life, remember? The...incident...it isn't something I talk about."
Jonas went quiet again. It didn't last.
"Were you at your parents' house to recover?"
"No. To help my sister with their estate. They were killed in a car accident a few months ago."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. We weren't very close."
"Your job?" he hazarded. "Your sister mentioned that she didn't even know what it was you did. I’m guessing your career choice wasn't a popular one?"
Kate thought back to their time at the farmhouse. She frowned. "I thought you were out cold when we were talking about that."
"I'm good at playing dead," he said without apology, as she tried to remember what else he might have overheard. "Your job?" he prodded.
She stared through the windshield into the night. "No, my career choice wasn't popular."
Understatement of the century. There had been a chance of forgiveness once, when she'd brought a man home to meet them a few years after joining the force. Grant Douglas had been ultra polite, conservative, and business-suited—much more in line with what her parents had wanted for her. What they’d expected from her. Especially when, at Grant’s urging, she'd introduced him as a special envoy to the U.S. embassy rather than a fellow cop, and the status he'd bestowed on her by association had almost made up for her uniform and gun.
Until she’d broken off the engagement a year later.
Her father had never spoken to her again. And because her mother had never been very good at standing up to him, Kate hadn’t exchanged more than a few words with her mom after that, either. Which made it all the more ironic that she and her ex-fiancé had remained on such good terms.
Her gaze flicked to the mirror again and lingered there. The headlights were still there. Her neck hairs prickled again, and she tapped a finger against the steering wheel.
"Kate?" prompted Jonas's deep voice.
"Hm?" She realized he was waiting for a response to something. "Sorry, I wasn't listening."
"I said it's a good thing your sister doesn't seem to share their..." He trailed off and twisted in his seat to look over his shoulder. "Trouble?" he asked.
"I'm not sure. It's been there since we got onto the highway."
"That's why you slowed down."
She nodded. "But it hasn't gotten any closer."
"Right." Jonas swung around to face forward again. "There's an exit coming up. Take it."
She switched on her turn signal and, a second later, slowed as she moved into the right-hand exit lane. They drove onto the ramp, their headlights highlighting the curve of the road, the safety barriers, the trees on both sides. The car that had been following them whizzed past on the highway.
Swallowing hard, Kate gripped the steering wheel with both hands. She continued right on the road at the top of the ramp, then made a U-turn and doubled back to the entrance onto the highway. As if by some unspoken, mutual agreement, neither she nor Jonas attempted to return to the conversation, signaling an end to their attempt at small talk. But not to their tension.
A couple of kilometers down the road, Jonas leaned forward to turn on the radio, his arm passing near enough to Kate's that she felt a brush of air against her skin. The loss of his heat when he withdrew again. She shifted away from him, leaning against her door as a woman's throaty croon joined the thrum of the engine in the space between them, singing the lyrics from an old-time song about being vexed, perplexed, and oversexed.
Kate's gaze swung to the radio. Seriously?
From the seat beside her came the unmistakable sound of a muffled snort. She froze, and her entire body flushed hot, putting her instantly back in her kitchen, with Jonas inches away and the fridge door between them.
"We should probably talk about this, don't you think?" Jonas had asked.
And she had replied, ever so blithely, "There's nothing to talk about. You're leaving in the morning, and I'm going back to my life. End of story."
Except now it wasn't.
"Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I," crooned the voice.