Found Wanting (2 page)

Alaina intercepted Jonah in the hallway. He was grinning, his blond hair wind-tousled, his beautiful blue eyes bright with excitement. When he saw her, his grin faded. "What happened to your face?" he asked.

Alaina hugged him. "I'm okay, sweetie. I'm okay."

"Are we moving again?" he asked, his voice wavering.

She nodded, unable to speak. Already, he knew the routine. It broke her heart.

She sent him after the suitcase in his room and tried to plan. But there wasn't time. They would get in the car and go. Where didn't matter. Just going mattered. They would start another new life in another new place where they would be safe again.

At least for a while.

Chapter 1

Five years later

"Looks like a doozy of a storm's rolling in," Rachel Boyd said as she cupped a hand around a lighter and touched flame to the tip of her Virginia Slim.

From their vantage point on the roof of the Tribune building, Alaina looked to the west, saw the rolling clouds that looked black because the sun still shone. Lightning flashed among them. The weather was unseasonably warm -- in the upper 60s -- for Chicago at the end of March, and WGN's chief meteorologist had announced the night before that a cold front was moving in, stirring up severe thunderstorms. The month was not going to go out like a lamb.

At the moment, Alaina and her co-worker were escaping the bustling newsroom so Rachel could take a smoke break. Alaina shielded her eyes against the sun as she glanced at her friend. Gorgeous. That's what she thought when she looked at Rachel. She had the presence of a movie star, a charisma that ingratiated her to others and intimidated them at the same time.

Alaina envied Rachel's curves, her short, naturally curly, blond hair, and her sky-blue eyes. Next to Rachel, Alaina felt like a boy. A dull one at that. Her own body was small and compact, athletic. Where Rachel looked soft and feminine, Alaina was firm and toned. She worked hard to stay in shape, believing that when it came time to run again -- either from Layton or the feds -- she had to be in tip-top physical condition. Her hair, so dark it was nearly black, was no-nonsense, falling straight to her shoulders without a wave in sight.

It was good, she had decided long ago, that she didn't look like Rachel, who could have never blended into a crowd.

The two women met five years ago on Alaina's first day as a copy editor. She'd had a new name, a new home, a new job and a resolve to keep her distance. Getting close to co-workers, neighbors or other parents at Jonah's school wasn't an option after she'd found out the hard way what could happen to people she cared about. She'd had no problem sticking to that rule in Colorado. But Rachel had been hungry for a buddy in a newsroom dominated by fortysomethings and married couples. She had pursued Alaina like a potential mate, inviting her to lunch, dinner and on breaks at every opportunity. Rachel was so engaging, so fun, and Alaina was so lonely, that eventually she was the one seeking out her new friend. She reasoned that the friendship would stay within the confines of work, that Rachel would not be at risk that way.

Then one night, after Alaina had dodged invitations to movies and other social activities for six months, Rachel had shown up at her apartment with takeout Thai and a video of Terminator. The instant Jonah had ambled into the living room, Rachel fell head over heels for him. She quickly became the aunt Jonah had never had, and Alaina hadn't been able to deny him, or herself. She still kept a certain distance. For instance, she'd turned down Rachel's offer to share a townhouse to cut down on expenses. While she had appreciated the suggestion, Alaina had worried that such proximity to her and Jonah would have been too great a risk for Rachel.

"Hey, Alex. Earth to Alex."

Alaina glanced up. Even after so many years of answering to the different name, it still caught her off guard sometimes. "I'm sorry. What?"

"I asked what you and Jonah are doing for dinner," Rachel said as she blew out smoke. "Assuming you're not stuck here too much longer."

Alaina checked her watch. A computer network crash had thrown her schedule off by at least an hour. "I'm picking him up at Lucas' for our Wednesday night out. Want to go?"

"I think you should ask Lucas' dad to go," Rachel said, wiggling her eyebrows. "He's such a hottie."

Alaina rolled her eyes. "You're worse than Jonah. He keeps hinting at what a great dad Grant is to Lucas and how much I'd like him if I got to know him more."

Rachel beamed. "That's my Jonah. He's looking out for you."

"Maybe I don't need to be looked out for."

"I think you do. And you can't blame me for wanting my best friend to get laid. You're too uptight all the time."

"Please."

"Trust me," Rachel said, "sex is therapeutic. I would know. I've needed a lot of therapy in my thirty-two years. So what's the matter with him?"

Alaina laughed. "Nothing."

"Well, it can't be that dark wavy hair or those gorgeous green eyes. And there's no doubt he works out, judging by the way his ribbed shirts hug his pecs. Too much emotional baggage?"

Alaina shrugged. "Some. His wife died a couple years ago."

"What's he do again?"

"He's some kind of big executive at Boeing."

"Hmm," Rachel mused. "Rich, handsome and widowed. For God's sake, leap on him."

"I don't leap."

"Hell, when it comes to men, you don't even take baby steps." Rachel flicked away her cigarette. "Whoever the asshole was, I hope he rots in hell."

The venom in her friend's voice surprised Alaina. "Excuse me?"

"The chump who made you afraid of men. Jonah's father, I presume."

Uncomfortable, Alaina curled her fingers around the railing that edged the roof. This was shaky ground, and she was not sure how to navigate it. She had not shared her history with Rachel. She didn't see the point. "I'm not afraid --"

"Alex."

They both looked toward the co-worker who had stuck her head out the roof-access door. "A couple guys in the lobby are asking to see you. They're flashing FBI badges."

Rachel shot Alaina a look of feigned shock. "You wanted by the law?" she asked.

Alaina didn't acknowledge the joke, her heart thundering as she started for the door. "I have to go." She paused, wanting to tell Rachel that she wouldn't be back, that they likely would never see each other again. "Take care."

As she walked away, she heard Rachel call her name -- or rather, the name she had adopted half a decade ago -- but didn't look back.

It surprised her that after all this time the FBI was still searching for her and Jonah. It surprised her more that it had taken them so long to track her down.

As she raced to gather up her purse and jacket, she wondered how much time she had. It would take her at least an hour to get to Mount Prospect, where Jonah was with Lucas. The knot in her stomach tightened as she wondered how long ago the feds had found her. If it had been days, they might already know where Jonah was. They might have already gotten to him.

As she hurried outside, fat raindrops began to splatter the pavement. The Metra train station was a twenty-minute walk from the newspaper. Pausing impatiently on the street corner, she figured she could run it in five. The "don't walk" sign blared red. Glancing up the street, she blinked against the driving rain, saw no traffic coming, and stepped off the curb.

* * *

Approaching the street corner, Mitch Kane hunched his shoulders against the torrential rain. He'd been downright toasty inside the coffee bar next to the Tribune building, only mildly curious about the break in her routine. Usually, she would be out with her son by now. That was the Wednesday routine: work early, pick up her son at the home of his friend, go out for dinner, then participate in some kind of activity together. Last week, they'd kicked a soccer ball around at a local park. The week before, the two had chowed down at a neighborhood pizza joint, then caught an early-evening showing of the latest Tom Cruise action flick.

Today was different, though he didn't know what had made it different. All he knew was that she had just raced out of the newspaper, agitated and in such a hurry that he'd feared he would lose her before he got himself outside.

Pausing behind her, careful to keep his gaze away from her very attractive backside, he took the opportunity to regret leaving behind the coffee he'd been nursing.

And then she dashed into the street.

He saw the car coming and shouted a warning. But it was too late.

Her body hurtled almost gracefully across the hood of the car and struck the windshield. Momentum arrested, her body reversed direction, tumbling off the hood and landing with a splash in the street.

Mitch, shouting at stricken bystanders to call 911, was the first to get to her. She was on her side, her dark hair streaming across her face, blood from a scrape on her forehead mixing with the rain.

He expected her to be unconscious, but as he knelt beside her, she rolled onto her back. Seeing her eyes open -- a striking light gray-green -- startled him, and for a heart-stopping instant, he thought she was dead. But then she blinked and focused on his face.

"Don't approach her. Don't talk to her. Just tell me when you find her."

He'd been paid well to follow those guidelines, but under the circumstances he couldn't turn away.

He heard her draw in a wheezing breath, then another, as raindrops struck her face and ran in rivulets over her cheeks. She gave no indication of pain, her eyes glazed with shock. Her fingers sank into his jacket and gripped. "Help me ..."

He patted her hand. "Just take it easy. It'll be okay."

Sirens began to shriek in the distance, but the day suddenly seemed preternaturally quiet as Mitch gazed down at her face and felt her fingers clasp his. Her lips moved. He leaned close, and rain dripped from his hair and face and onto hers. Drops that clung to her eyelashes splattered when she blinked in slow motion. She was trying to tell him something.

He lowered his ear to her lips to hear better.

"Help ... me ... up."

"You need to stay still," he said, stripping off his jacket and spreading it over her. Giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, he stroked his hand over her wet hair. "Hang on. Help is coming."

The driver of the car dropped to his knees on the other side of her. "Is she okay? Oh, Jesus, I didn't even see her. She ran right out in front of me."

"Alex!"

Mitch glanced up to see a blond woman wedging her way through the crowd of onlookers. "Alex!" She fell to her knees next to Mitch, her hands shaking as she started to touch her fallen friend, seemed to think better of it and instead covered her mouth with both hands. "Oh God, oh God."

The driver of the car began to babble. "I couldn't stop. I didn't see her. She ran out in front of me."

"Jonah."

The name snapped the woman out of her hysteria, and she leaned over her, oblivious to the muddy water soaking her linen slacks. "What? Talk to me, Alex. What can I do?"

"Get Jonah." Her teeth started to chatter.

The blond woman nodded. "Yes, of course. I'll get him. Don't worry."