Hunting April (7 page)

Humiliated, her tongue tripped over her own words as she reeled backward, unable to catch her breath. "I thought . . . I thought . . . you wanted . . . ."

Omigod, please, not again. Not again.
Arms folded over her breasts, she spun and fled to the safety of her room, quickly locked the door.

I am so stupid. How could I be such an idiot, to believe he actually wanted me?
The ache of degradation sank any smidgen of self-worth she'd managed to build up since escaping Martone.
I can't do this with you
. What were the chances of hearing that twice in a lifetime? When Martone had left her, she'd nearly sobbed in relief. But when Glennon backed away—

Glennon doesn’t want me. He has no desire for me
. At best, he probably thought of her as an efficient employee. She knew she had talents in that department. Maybe even as a comfortable housemate, like two guys sharing an apartment. At worst, he pitied her.
What happened in the kitchen?
Didn't he want me? He acted interested. He was hard
enough, I know he was.
She hugged herself tighter, willed the soft sobs to stop.

Rushing to the bathroom, April scrubbed her face until it was nearly raw.
Fuck
the mirrors, who cares?
She stripped off the sexy nightgown, accidently tore the pretty garment in the process, flung it to the floor.
What was I thinking?
The utilitarian cotton nightshirt fell nearly to her ankles. Harshly pulling a brush through her hair, she wished it had grown long enough to pull into a sexless ponytail.

"April, c'mon, unlock the door. We need to talk."

Oh no we don't
. Words were not possible, not even to tell him to go away. The sad part was that, even after his blatant rejection, she didn't want him to leave. Not really.

My God, am I really so pathetic?
Glennon tried the doorknob again. The sobbing under control, she stayed as quiet as the proverbial church mouse, until the doorknob stopped jiggling.

Great, one sucky relationship after another.
She hiccupped
. Relationship? Those aren't
relationships, they're more like repeated disasters. When it comes to men, I'm a disaster magnet.

What does Mom always say? Out of the frying pan, into the fire. Now I understand exactly what
she means
. April settled herself, propped up on a pile of pillows.
Enough with the tears.

Think. Plan. No male interference. I got out before, I can do it again. This time, on my own
.

April leaned back, closed her eyes. Not to sleep, but to plot. She'd escaped from Martone and he was big-time, so she knew she was capable. The trick, as she saw it: never trust another man. Never again allow herself to be tossed away, unlamented and unwanted. She'd go solo.

More than anything, she needed to get back to the West Coast, needed to reach her folks. If she got to them first, she could do damage control before Martone made good on his threat. She would come clean and tell them the story, the sordid tale of their not-so-clever daughter.
Oh yeah, I can just imagine trying to explain to my parents! Mom,
Dad, sorry to disappoint, but my libido temporarily got in the way of my common sense.
She was sure that whatever she told them wouldn’t be as mortifying as being rejected as a sex partner. Not a lover, not even—what is it called?—a fuck buddy.
Not rejected once, but twice
. I thought men always wanted sex, so what's wrong with me? Have I morphed into a
bridge troll?

She had no vehicle, no contacts, no cell phone, no untraceable ID or credit cards.

The friends she'd made at her old job were more like acquaintances, no one she could ask to shelter her. Thanks to her mom, she had some money left. Maybe enough, if she parceled it out very carefully.
I need to get out of Jersey, alive. Then back to Chino. Alone.

Sunday, early morning

Only April knew about the church, so that seemed the most logical place to begin.
I should be able to make it to the convent before dawn, on foot
.
Hitch another ride from
convent to bank. Empty safety deposit box. Head west.
Maybe Father Joseph has contacts. Maybe
he can hook me up with church tour groups heading west. Maybe as far as Vegas. Maybe Vegas
will be close enough to call home for a ride. Who would target church buses on the interstates,
filled with good Christian ladies whose worst vices were bingo and penny slots?

She sorted her new clothes into two piles: necessary and frivolous. Then she crammed as many of the necessaries as she could into her duffle bag. Into her roomy shoulder bag went the antibiotics, toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, whatever personal stuff would fit.
Note to self: replace the colored contact lenses, but no more hair dye. Hats and
scarves will do.
The only item she hadn't replaced was her jacket. Even though it was summer, the nights seemed to be cool and damp in northern Jersey.
Too late now to buy
one, but I can make do
.

Gear packed and ready, April cracked the door quietly, then checked the hallway. Total darkness met her. The only fly in the ointment was not knowing where Glennon lurked.
No matter, he'll be glad to see the back of me
. She couldn't imagine that he would try to stop her physically. She also felt confident that
any
confrontation would probably destroy her slim hold on the bravado required to flee the safety of the building, with its high-tech defenses.

Stopping at the coat closet in the foyer, she quietly felt for the black and red reversible nylon windbreaker she knew hung on a hook at the back of the door.
Should
be safe enough to wear
.

Except for the barely lit elevator buttons, darkness pervaded the indoor garage, its floor graded slightly upward, toward the sidewalk. Hugging the wall, April squeezed past the parked vehicles that apparently lived there. Just a few more feet—

she'd be out of the building and on her way to church.
Church and me, not two words
usually strung together in the same sentence. Not even in the same thought sequence.

Silence enveloped the neighborhood. Storefronts unlit, street barely illuminated by decades old, yellowed streetlights. Even the coffee shop shared the dark, too early for the bakery gnomes to begin baking and brewing for the morning stampede of humans desperate for their after-church sugar-and-caffeine rush.

Just inside the leading edge of blackness in the bat cave, April gazed longingly at the empty shop and sighed an itty-bitty sigh
. Add me to the list. I could sure use a jolt of
sugar and caffeine right now
. She took a last look to the left and right, stepped out to the sidewalk.

Someone grabbed her from behind, dragged her backward into the garage. A large hand, clamped over her mouth, forced the escaping scream to lodge in her throat.

April tried to bite, but couldn't get her own lips out of the way. She dropped her bags, kicked backward to catch her attacker's knees. She struggled to dislodge the hand across her face, grabbed the pinky finger and tried to break it. Her attempts proved useless, but she didn't give up. The immovable human vise trapped her against the wall, the painted cinderblocks damp with early morning condensation.

"
Shh
, be still. Bloody hell, would you stop kickin' me? I'll not cause you harm."

The whisper in her ear—faint Scottish accent, deep, husky, almost raspy—sounded familiar. "Miss April, it's Daniel. Do you understand?" He grunted. "Damn you, stop biting."

Oh yeah, I understand. I understand that I stayed in town too freakin' long
. Angelo's personal bodyguard, the new guy, had tracked her down.
Shit, I didn't bail out fast
enough. Should have kept to my original plan of cut and run
. She knew her assailant, realized she fought a losing battle. She slumped in Daniel Wyndsor's massive, rock-hard arms.

"If you promise not to scream and not to run, I'll release you. Nod if you agree."

The Scottish overtones were soft, almost soothing.

Like I have a choice. Gigantor can snap me like a dry twig
. April nodded.

The man removed his hand, then set her upright. "Are you all—?"

Before he finished the question, she made a mad dash toward the street, toward freedom. In less than half a step, he trapped her once again in his iron grip.

"You agreed not to run."

"I lied."

"You're bloody lucky I grabbed you before you hit the street. What the hell is wrong with you, coming out in the open like this?"

Okay, so much for his voice being soothing
.

"I managed just fine until you showed up." She rubbed at her mouth with the back of her hand, then straightened her clothing.

"Girl, Martone has men everywhere. You don't stand a chance."

The scare transformed her fear into anger. Her words tore out in a low snarl.

"Martone's men? Hang on.
You
work for Angelo, you
are
one of his men. So why aren't you dragging me back to the
fucking
Chamber of Horrors, kicking and screaming the entire
fucking
way?" She hammered his chest with both fists. "Or is that
still
your fucking plan?"

"That trashy mouth is a new talent. Can't say I'm terribly fond of it." He ignored the punches."I resigned the day you left, while Martone's private physician attended to the damage you caused. Impressive, by the way. Martone was furious at my resignation, but his men wouldn't take me on. I don't work for brutes who abuse women."

Then, in the stillness, a new sound. Very faint. It seemed like . . . like . . . .
Is he
sniffing me? Really?
"What the hell are you doing?"

"You smell like men's cologne, for fuck sake."

"Trash mouth yourself."

Assuming Glennon's windbreaker was the culprit, April struggled out of the jacket, then threw it toward Daniel's feet. Then she shrugged off the annoying neck straps, piled everything on the ground. She leaned back against the wall.

"Well, it took you this long to find me." She tried to identify his form, but his big body was still only a darker blob in the shadows. "How
did
you find me?"

Daniel grunted. "Army Ranger, 75th Regiment. I never lost you."

A voice broke through the dark. April damn near jumped out of her skin.

"Marine Corps Force Recon. You should have stayed away."

Daniel's faint accent, now clipped, laid blame."And
you
should have protected her better. You're getting sloppy, Garrett."

Glennon came back with an unmistakably gruff tone."Not too sloppy to track her from the penthouse, then follow her with infrared. Not too sloppy to keep you in my sights, Wyndsor. What are you doing these days, slumming? Martone? Really? How the mighty have fallen."

"He paid double my rate, but the gig wasn't as presented. I was about to void my contract for non-compliance on the part of the principal when Miss April showed up.

Thought I should stay around."

April pulled herself together. "You two know each other? Glennon, you knew he followed me? Daniel, you knew where I holed up? What the fuck?"

"April, you worked here all week. How the hell did you miss the fact that the entire building is wired, that I have at least one man on duty twenty-four hours a day?"

A metallic
click
came from Glennon's direction as he thumbed the safety on his weapon.

Daniel did the same. "Miss April, to answer your question: we don't exactly
know
one another. We are, shall we say,
aware
of each other."

"I'm so relieved." April gathered her belongings. "Well, you two play nicely with the other children. I have a previous engagement.
Adios, muchachos
."

"Bloody hell, Garrett, what did you do to piss her off?"

"None of your damn business."

"You should know that the last bloke who rattled Miss April's cage suffered a split skull, a massive concussion, and will never father children."

April's level of annoyance grew; she knew the tone of her voice definitely reflected it, but she was tired and cranky."Looky here, thanks for the great news. It's a huge relief to know that I'm not wanted for manslaughter, plus, Doctor Demento can never reproduce to build his own band of depraved demon spawn. Have fun, boys. I'm outta here." April grabbed her gear, then headed out of the garage.

Daniel's solid body blocked her path. "Miss April, I cannot allow you to leave."

Glennon's voice sounded closer. "
Miss April
? Whatever. Wyndsor's right. You were lucky before. You won't last out on the street alone. Come back inside."

"Cannot allow? You cannot
allow
me to leave?" Try as she might, she couldn't manage to move past the Incredible Hulk. Her ire grew.

"Guys, I'm very confused by who's on which side. Also, daylight's approaching, but I have yet to reach the blasted sidewalk. Imagine that. You've blown my whole plan to shit."

In the budding light, April finally made out the profiles of both men.

Glennon spoke into his transmitter, then appeared to listen. "We can't stay here.

April, go back upstairs, get some shut-eye. We'll sort this out after the sun comes up.

Wyndsor?"

"She broke cover. I'm not leaving. And I think we've been made."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Glennon's voice rolled out in a low growl.

"Corner, at the coffee shop. I was about to check it out when your girl here decided to bolt. Her safety became my priority. When I looked back, whoever had been there was gone."

"Sonofabitch. Our surveillance cameras just picked up activity by the corner. It might not be anything, but—"

In a reflexive move, April stepped back into the deeper shadow, pressed her back against the wall. She pointed toward Daniel, spoke in a voice tight with anger.

"So, let's get this correct, just for the sake of argument. You followed me, then someone followed you. You led the goony squad right to Garrett's lair, and now he's following me as well. I'm still stuck in Jersey, with a madman after me. I'm so fucking impressed. Brilliant planning. Absolutely fucking brilliant. Your mothers must be so proud."
And my mother would wash my mouth out with soap for breaking out in potty-mouth
.