Falling for Her (18 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

J
amie lifted onto his elbows and stared down at the woman who’d just given him the equivalent of an out-of-body experience. “That wasn’t at all what I expected you to say.”

The desperation in those beautiful eyes as Sugar asked for his help was next to impossible to resist, but she wasn’t going anywhere until he got answers. He slid his legs over the side of the bed and grabbed his jeans, pulling them on. Obviously clued in by his abrupt movements, she pulled the sheet up to her neck, warily watching him as if he might turn on her at any minute.

Did she really think he was no different from her lowlife Rodney Vanders? Did she believe he was the kind of man who would strike a woman? That hurt him as much as it angered him. Especially after the way he’d felt being with her. Never had he known anything like being with her, making love to her. He couldn’t compare it to any other woman. It had been like coming home.

The last time he’d felt like he was home had been ten years ago when he’d walked into the kitchen after spending the afternoon with his friends to find his mom taking double-chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. It had been the day before he’d gone and killed everyone he loved. He’d been stoned and suffering from a bad case of the munchies. Not waiting for them to cool, he’d grabbed a handful, and without even thanking her, had shut himself up in his room. Even all these years later, he could still see the worry in his mother’s eyes as he’d stumbled out of the room.

Shaking off the unwanted memory, he tugged his shirt over his head and moved to the chair. Her painting of the nude couple caught his attention, and he suddenly understood Sugar’s longing to know the kind of love shining from their eyes as they gazed at each other. For a brief moment there, he’d thought maybe he’d found it, and with a woman not at all like his mother, no less.

Fortunately, before he’d said something stupid he couldn’t take back, she’d reminded him that someone was after her, had apparently found her, and she could be in danger. But she couldn’t trust him with the truth. How would he even know if whatever story she told him was true?

“Who’s after you and why?” he asked, settling a cold gaze on her,
when what he really wanted to do was return to the bed, wrap her in his
arms, and promise he’d keep her safe. “What’s your real name, Sugar?”

Her gaze jerked to his at his last question, and as the light faded from her eyes, she pushed the cat aside and stood, dragging the sheet behind her as she disappeared down the hallway. With a disgruntled expression on his furry face at losing the warm lap, Junior blinked green eyes at him.

“Don’t look at me. I’m as clueless as you about what’s going on.”

“Mowwl,” Junior said, before leaping off the bed and scampering down the hall.

Jamie drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair for a moment, then rose and followed the witch and her familiar. If she couldn’t be honest with him, he couldn’t help her. In the living room, she stood, draped in the bedsheet, at her open front door.

He stopped in front of her, hissing out a frustrated breath. “Please, let me help you.”

Not only did she not respond, but she refused to look at him. Fine. He could take a hint. She wanted him gone and he was happy to oblige.

“Damnit,” he muttered when he hesitated with one foot out the door and one still in her condo.
Don’t be stupid, Saint. Walk out and don’t look back.
She obviously didn’t want his help, and he forced his feet to move forward.

He didn’t look back.

Sugar closed the door, sagging against it, and then followed it down when her legs decided they’d no longer keep her upright. Seated on the floor, she pressed her face between her knees when her lungs threatened to hyperventilate. He’d really left.

It shouldn’t surprise her. When he had asked her real name, she’d realized she would have to tell him everything or nothing. If she told him all, he would hate her and would leave anyway.

Nor was she willing to put the man she loved in the sights of Rodney, a venomous snake if there ever was one. Yet . . . and yet, as she listened to the sound of Jamie’s car fade away, she knew she’d made a mistake. She should have confessed all the shameful details, but she’d waited too long.

Finally getting air back into her lungs, she swiped at the tears and pushed herself up. It was done, and crying would solve nothing. She turned the deadlock, slipping on the chain. As always, she was alone. No problem. Hadn’t it been that way since she’d come home from school to find her mother sprawled out on the kitchen floor?

“Mawww.”

“You learn a new word, Junior?” She eyed him, sitting a few feet away, his tail twitching in agitation. Of course, he sensed her fear and needed reassurance all was well. Nothing was right, but she picked him up and stroked his chin.

“It’s all right, baby. How would ya feel about us taking a vacation? Maybe Arizona or New Mexico? I hear there’s lots of lizards in either state, so you’d like that, right?”

His purr sent calming vibrations through her, and she returned to the bedroom, with the only creature in the world who loved her, to pack what she would need to take. She’d get everything ready to go, and sometime after midnight, she’d load up her car and leave, hoping anyone supposedly watching her would be home in their bed, expecting her to be fast asleep in her own.

Before she left, she sent Maria an e-mail apologizing for accepting a job she couldn’t keep. Although her friend knew enough to understand, she didn’t know all. No one but Sugar and bad cop and bad cop did, and Sugar planned to keep it that way. It was the only way to protect her friends.

Everything she could take with her was piled by the door and one last time she roamed her apartment, saying good-bye to the things she’d have to leave behind. She considered taking the picture of her fake parents, but on reflection, decided she didn’t love them anymore. She’d find new parents for Nikki Swanson.

“Nikki Swanson.” She tested the name, listening to the sound of it on her tongue, getting used to hearing it. It was an okay name, but strangely, she’d miss Sugar Darling more than she’d ever missed Hannah Conley. Neither Nikki nor Hannah knew or would ever know a man called Saint.

With tears streaming down her cheeks, she loaded into her car the cat carrier with Junior in it, her laptop case, one suitcase for her, and a small tote with the things Junior would need. The oversized purse containing, among other things, her new identity and the cash she’d stashed for just such an emergency—along with an illegal gun—she tucked next to her.

Fortunately, Junior was an easy traveler, curling up and going to sleep as soon as she started the ignition. She circled the block a few times to make sure no one followed her. Although it hadn’t been her intention, she found herself turning down the road to Jamie’s house. She’d looked up his address on the K2 computer after their day on his boat.

Twice since then, she’d driven by when she knew he wasn’t home, and stared at the house that seemed like one straight out of the pages of a romance novel. White with royal-blue shutters and a porch that ran across the front, the damn thing even had a white picket fence with an arbor entrance covered by climbing pink roses. What man owned a house like that? Maybe one who needed to reconstruct a past life when he’d been happy?

After seeing it the first time, she’d fantasized about living there with Jamie, a stupid dream if ever there was one. She slowed for one last look at the home of the man she loved, her heart splintering like shattered glass at knowing she’d never see him again. The garage door was closed, and his car would be safely tucked inside, no evil lurking at his door.

For a split second, she considered parking, walking up the steps, and throwing herself on his mercy, but she pushed her foot down on the pedal and sped past. He was too good a man to have her nasty troubles dumped on him.

“Good-bye, Jamie,” she said as the house disappeared from view.

At that time in the morning, I-10 West was as empty as her heart, not a soul to be seen ahead or behind her. As she traveled through Alabama, she kept an eye on her rearview mirror, but if anyone was following her, they were too clever for her to see them.

Leaving Alabama behind, she drove through Mississippi, then into Louisiana. When her tires ran over the rumble strip, she jerked her eyes open and gave a violent shake of her head. Time to find a motel and get some sleep before she ended up in the swamp lining the road. The upcoming exit only had a Burger King sign, so she drove past.

The next one had several fast-food restaurants and two motels. Exiting the interstate, she saw the McDonald’s sign was lit, and she turned into the drive-thru and ordered a large cup of coffee and one plain hamburger. Knowing the coffee would help to revitalize her, and that she was on the road that would take her into New Orleans, she decided to drive a little longer. When she reached the city limits, she picked the cheapest-looking motel with a name she’d never heard of. Once in the room, she tore the plain burger into pieces and set them on the dresser for Junior. Out of his cage, he jumped up and devoured them, then meeped for more.

“Sorry, kiddo, that’s all there is.” She removed a baking pan from the tote and poured a thin layer of litter into it, then stood back to see if Junior would use it. As his cat box was too big to fit into the bag, she’d thought herself rather ingenious to think of the pan. He circled it, sniffing the edges before sticking a paw in and digging at the litter. Seemingly satisfied with the make-do potty, he hopped in and squatted.

It would be a few hours before the bank opened and she could visit one of her three safety-deposit boxes spread out between Pensacola and San Antonio, five thousand dollars stashed in each one. It would have been nice if she could have gotten her money out of the Pensacola bank, but someday she would sneak back and get the cash she’d stashed there.

With the five thousand in her bag, the five she’d get when the bank opened, and the last five she’d pick up when she passed through San Antonio, she’d be in better shape than when she’d gone on the run the first time. Not wanting to repeat the desperation she’d felt back then, she’d come up with the idea of hiding money along the escape route she’d planned if the time ever came to leave. Whenever she’d managed to accumulate five thousand dollars over the past two years, she’d taken a little trip, the first one to San Antonio.

“I’m one smart cookie,” she told Junior, feeling rather proud of herself for her foresight. Smart, alone, and lonely, that was her. No, she wouldn’t go there. She’d made her choice, and she was Sugar, and Sugar looked on the bright side of everything.

Except she wasn’t Sugar any longer; she was Nikki Swanson, or would be as soon as she walked out of the bank in New Orleans. The box in Texas was in Nikki Swanson’s name. That would give her between now and her arrival in San Antonio to create a new persona.

So, who was Nikki Swanson?

CHAPTER NINETEEN

J
amie had circled the complex after leaving Sugar, unable to get out of his mind the way she’d looked as he walked out the door. Not seeing any suspicious cars, he found a place to park a few spaces down from her front door. Then he snuck over to her little car and put the magnetic tracking device in her wheel well.

Two hours later, realizing he was nodding off, and since all was quiet and her lights were out, he decided it was safe to slip down to the convenience store a few blocks from her house. Inside, after a quick pit stop, he grabbed the largest cup and filled it with coffee. He was back in place in less than ten minutes.

Her ugly orange car was gone. Of course it was. Jamie slammed his hand down on the steering wheel. “Damnit, Sugar, you couldn’t wait ten minutes?” What if she hadn’t left willingly, but had been
taken? He doubted they—whoever they were—would use the little car
as the getaway vehicle, but he broke into her condo anyway. There was
no sign of a struggle, which was a relief. The refrigerator was empty,
but he had no idea if she cooked when home. Most telling, her cat was gone. If someone had come for her, they wouldn’t have taken Junior.

After checking all the rooms, he left the way he came in, through the back door. A large garbage bag was set off to the side on the grass. He opened it to find cartons and containers of food, still cold to the touch.

She had run. No surprise there. He’d been expecting it, just hadn’t planned for her to do it in the less than ten minutes he was gone. “What am I going to do with you, Sugar?” he asked as he returned to his car. It was a question to which he didn’t have an answer.

At K2, Jamie determined her whereabouts, then picked up the phone. “Sugar ran and appears to be heading for New Orleans,” he said into the phone.

“Kismet,” Jake said, not at all sounding like he’d been awakened from sleep.

“What does that mean?”

“It means we’re in New Orleans, and how ironic is that? Hi, Jamie.”

The change from a male voice to a feminine one was a bit disconcerting. “Hey, Maria. I hate to bother the two of you, but I’ve got a bad feeling, and I need to find her. Are we on speaker?”

“We are,” Jake answered, and Jamie heard the rustle of bedsheets.

“I’m headed that way now.” He bit down on his anxiety, feeling guilty that he was interrupting their time away.

“Why don’t you let us handle this end, and you keep tabs on her whereabouts.”

Not gonna happen. “No. Don’t approach her. She’s running scared, and I don’t want to spook her. I called Doc, and he’s on the way in. He’ll track her for us. Just keep an eye on her until I get there.”

“I just checked my e-mail, and there’s one from Sugar. She apologized for taking a job she couldn’t accept and said she knew I’d understand,” Maria said.

“I wish I understood.” Ryan O’Connor poked his head in, and Jamie motioned him to take a seat.

“It’ll take me a few hours to get there,” he said. “Is there anything you can tell me, Maria, that will help?”

“Her real name’s Hannah Conley. The rest you can get from her.”

“Thanks.” Hanging up, he brought Doc up to speed. “Sorry about dragging you out of bed, especially when I know you’re supposed to be off tomorrow.”

O’Connor’s gaze shifted to the satellite map on the wall. “Not like I had anything better to do.”

In the few days he’d been onboard, it was obvious that even after a year, his friend still had some deep hurt over the loss of his wife. Jamie could appreciate that. Almost eleven years had passed and his heart still mourned the loss of his parents. When things settled back down, he would make a point to get Doc out, introduce him around.

“Keep me updated,” he said on the way out the door. Making a detour to the kitchen, he tossed some ice into a cooler, and then added four bottles of root beer. From the pantry, he grabbed a handful of energy bars. After a quick stop in the bathroom, he left K2 to hunt down his prey.

Once on the interstate heading west, Jamie flipped on his radar detector, bringing the car to fifteen miles over the speed limit. Nothing but questions tumbled through his mind. Was her final destination New Orleans? Did she know someone there? Was Hannah Conley her real name or just another alias?

Impossible to think of her as a Hannah. The name didn’t fit the woman he knew. His violet-eyed, messed-up girl—one minute funny and confident, the next vulnerable and hurting—was a Sugar through and through.

When he caught up with her, he’d force her to tell him the story of her life, starting from the day she took her first breath. After he kissed her senseless for scaring a month off his life. As he drove, he listened to O’Connor give Jake updates on Sugar’s movements, appreciating that Doc had thought to put them on a three-way call. By the time he reached the outskirts of New Orleans, he was confident he had a good plan. Get answers. Help her as much as he could. Then figure out what she meant to him.

Following the directions from Jake, Jamie pulled up next to the Buchanans’ Jeep, where they’d parked across the street from a rundown motel just inside the New Orleans city line. He spied Sugar’s orange car sitting in the motel lot. His dumb heart did flips at the speed of an exuberant gymnast. Clamping down on the excitement he didn’t want to feel, he slid into the backseat of the Jeep.

“Sorry I screwed up your trip. Bring me up to speed, then you can
leave.”

Maria twisted in her seat and glared at him. “You think we don’t care about her? I’m just glad we’re here so we can help. I think you two should stay in the car, and let me go talk to her. She did confide in me after all.”

That burned. “No, this is my operation from here on. I’d prefer it if you left.”

“But—”

“No, Chiquita, let’s leave Saint and his woman alone.” Jake gave his wife a wicked grin.
“
’Sides, I’ve got plans for you. If the idiot sitting in our backseat had taken care of business and not let his woman get this far, I’d be feeding you hot
Beignets
and
café au lait
right now. In bed.”

“But—”

“No buts, wife. Get out of my car, Saint. If you need us again, you got our number.”

Jamie wanted to protest that Sugar wasn’t his woman—at least not yet—but he wanted them gone even more. After they drove away, he eyed Sugar’s car. What should he do next? Find out what room she was in, then knock on the door? What would he say? “Hi, I’m in the neighborhood and decided to stop by”? Would she welcome him in, or would she slam the door in his face?

“I was doing just fine before you wormed your way into my life, sweetheart.” So he was talking to himself? Great. Nor did he appreciate how indecisive she’d made him. He was trained to make decisions on the spot, life-and-death ones, and it was time to confront the woman who’d run from him.

As he headed for the office, figuring he’d have to wake someone up, an older model Hyundai with a magnetic sign on its door turned into the motel parking lot. The driver’s head angled to look at door numbers as he slowly drove by the rooms, then pulled up behind Sugar’s car.

How had she found a pizza delivery at nine in the morning? He chuckled. “Oh, right, we’re in New Orleans, and this is Sugar you’re talking about.” But the timing was perfect, and he grabbed two unopened root beers from the cooler on the passenger seat. Jogging across the lot, he came up beside the pizza delivery kid.

“Just popped over to the convenience store to get some sodas.” He dangled the bottles in front of the boy’s face. “Thought I’d beat you back. How much I owe you?” he asked, reaching for his wallet.

The teen’s brows furrowed as he frowned at Jamie. “You don’t look like a Janie Turner to me, dude.”

The little witch had more or less stolen his name, but in doing so, she’d certainly made it easy for him. He flipped his wallet open and held it up so the kid could read the name on his driver’s license. “Jamie and Janie Turner. Cute, huh? Well, my wife thinks so anyway. How much?”

“Eight bucks.”

He handed the kid a twenty. “Don’t have anything smaller, but if you disappear like right now, it’s all yours.”

The boy flicked a nervous glance at her motel room before shrugging and then returning to his car. Jamie waited until the taillights disappeared, then approached Sugar’s—aka Hannah’s, aka Janie’s—door. Giving it three knocks, he cleared his throat and changed his voice. “Pizza delivery.”

At the sound of the lock turning, he stepped against the outer wall, keeping the pizza box where it could be seen if she kept the chain on and peeked out. If she swung the door wide open without checking first, he was going to dump the contents over her head for being stupid.

She saved herself from having pizza dripping down her face by keeping on the chain. At the sight of the box, she closed the door, slid off the chain, and when she opened it again, he stepped in front of her.

“Your pizza, ma’am.” It was probably wrong to take such satisfaction in the wide eyes and open mouth. Then her expression turned guarded. She should be wary, considering he wasn’t happy with her right now.

“Jamie? What’re you doing here?”

“Beats me.” He pushed past her before she could slam the door in his face. Moving to the middle of the room, he lifted the lid of the box and peered in. “What’d you order us, Sugar?” When he was sure he had her attention, he arched a brow. “Or is it Hannah today . . . oh, wait, it’s Janie Turner according to the delivery man.”

Her face paled, and he crushed the longing to scoop her up and hold her tight, safe in his arms. “I had to go to a lot of trouble to convince him to turn over the pizza, so I hope I can look forward to the
benefits that come with having a wife.” He’d never acted cruel toward
a woman before, but this one pushed buttons he didn’t know existed. It was either everything or nothing at all where she was concerned, and
she’d sent her message by running. She wanted nothing from him.

She slid down, planting her butt on the floor. “I can explain.”

“I certainly hope so.” Making himself at home, he set the root beers on the bedside table, then settled on the bed and leaned back against the pillows. “Want a piece?” He held out the box.

“Not really hungry right now.”

“What? Lost your appetite?” Her hair was wet, telling him she’d recently showered, and she wore the same little boxers and strappy T-shirt as the night he’d made love to her. The night he’d almost told her he thought he was falling in love with her. From the first, he’d known she was trouble with a capital T, but he still wanted her, was aroused just looking at her. Tearing his gaze away, he opened the box and lifted a slice of pizza he really didn’t want.

A furball appeared from nowhere, landing next to him. “Meep.”

“Hello, Junior. That is your real name, right?” He didn’t like how mean he was feeling, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

“Meep.”

He took that as a yes, and picked up a clump of sausage and cheese, putting it on the box top. Although he pointedly ignored Sugar, he subtly watched her out of the corner of his eye, and she’d flinched at his jab. She folded into herself, wrapping her arms around her legs, her head hanging like one who was defeated. Feeling like a jerk, he decided he should give her a chance to explain.

“This Rodney Vanders; he’s after you, why? Is he just an old boyfriend who doesn’t know how to let go, or is there more to it than that? And, Sugar, see if you can manage the truth.”

Her head snapped up, fury in her eyes. “Screw you, Jamie. I didn’t ask you to follow me. I don’t even know why you’re here. How did you find me, anyway?”

Well, he had that coming. Her belligerence was welcome though. Better than her beaten-down attitude of a minute ago. As to why he’d come after her, he still hadn’t figured that one out. Not wanting to admit he’d put a tracking device in her car, he ignored her second question.

“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. Come here.” He pushed the box aside and scooted over.

“I don’t think so. Please, I’d like you to leave.”