Infinite Possibilities (22 page)

By the time we exit the rental van to pick up our car, the warm Texas November has me tying my jacket at my waist, and fairly confident that we aren’t looking at any roadblocks of the Liam Stone nature. Once we’re settled in some sort of gray Dodge, we pull onto I-35 for the two hour drive to Jasmine Heights. I sink down into the seat and ball my fists on my legs. I’m going to face the Godzillas of my past without Liam. 

“At least it’s a short drive,” Meg comments. “Thirty minutes according to the GPS.” She pauses and I feel her look at me. “You okay?” 

I don’t look at her. “Yes.” 

She’s quiet a moment. I want her to stay that way. She doesn’t. “You think they’ll kill him if we don’t jar your memory in Jasmine Heights?”

A vise-like sensation tightens around my windpipe. I force out air to reply. “I think they’ll hurt him or someone else I care about.”

“Like Liam.”

“Yes,” I agree, and the word is lead on my tongue. “Like Liam.”

We fall into blessed silence, and I stare straight ahead, willing myself to be calm and collected, terrified the answer to all of this isn’t in my head, or if it is, I won’t remember it in time to save Chad and Liam. My brother has to be alive and he has to stay that way. I can’t lose the brother I just found again and I can’t lose the man who has brought me back to life. But my track record of love and loss is terrifying. 

“Jasmine Heights city limits,” Meg announces and I sit up straight, staring at the sign I thought I’d never see again. She asks, “Any hotel preference?” 

“I don’t know.” I don’t care. “Stay on this road and take the Snyder exit.”

“Sure. You know this place. I don’t.”

I direct her to the exit and through several twists and turns. “Here,” I say at the final turn and frown at the shopping center at the edge of my old neighborhood. I point to the residential street. 

“This isn’t a hotel.”

“No. It’s my old house.” 

“Where?”

Where, is right. It’s now a restaurant. My house is a restaurant. “Pull into the driveway.” 

“Shouldn’t we get a motel first?”

“Pull in, Meg,” I bite out. 

“Fine. Fine. I’ll pull in.”

She parks in the front row to the right of the door. I stare at the fancy red and white brick building with a big sign that reads “Red Heaven Restaurant.” The irony of the word “heaven” does not escape me. Though the population of this city has grown from ten thousand to nearly twenty since I was last here, it was, and is, still small enough that everyone knows what happened here.

“Red Heaven,” I whisper. 

“I’m not sure what kind of food it is,” Meg says. “Did you want to go in and see?”

I think about the fact that some patron or patrons are sitting at a table that might well be the same spot my mother screamed while she burned alive. “Evil,” I say.

“What? The food is evil? That’s a new one.”

I don’t speak to her. I can’t speak to her. My gaze travels over the building again and goes back to the sign. It’s an insult. A battle cry and a threat. I expect pain, and a flashback that takes me down. Instead, there is a burn in my chest and tension in my shoulders. My jaw clenches and I shove open the car door. 

“I guess we’re going to eat evil food,” Meg mumbles and I ignore her, charging for the door. 

I grab my purse and on the way to the door, fix it cross body over my chest. Pushing open the doorway, I’m in a homey restaurant with hardwood floors and wooden tables with comfy chairs. Homey being the operative word. Like the home it once was. 

“Who owns this place?” I ask the twenty-something girl behind the wooden hostess stand before she can speak. And God, I think she’s the kid I use to babysit a few blocks from here.

Her dark brown brows dip. “Do I know you?”

“No. You don’t know me. I need the name of the owner.”

“Sheridan Smith. He owns everything around here.”

So Derek had said. “Do you have a business card for him?”

“The manager might. She’s behind the bar right now.”

“Did we get a table?” Meg asks. 

A shiver of unease slides down my spine and the source seems to be Meg. Aware that my nerves are jumping and my mood is suited for a tornadic event, I don’t try to understand it. “I’m going to the bathroom.” I start walking, praying she won’t follow. I intend to head to the bar and I do not want Meg to be a part of this.

Frustrated, I follow the bathroom sign and push open the door, thankful it’s made for one. Turning to lock up, I never get the chance. A man shoves into the door and shuts it behind him, giving me his back, his long, light brown hair tied at the nape, while he locks the door himself.

My heart races and my hand goes to my purse, but he’s turned before I can make a move, and where I’d once thought him rugged bad-boy hotness, I know better now. He’s danger in a way Liam never was. 

I clutch the strap of my purse. “What are you doing here, Jared?” 

“I have a message from Chad.”

I blanch, but for some reason I’m not as shocked as I think I should be. I think I always knew Jared was more than just my next door neighbor in Denver. “Let me see your tattoo.”

“I’m not a part of your brother’s Underground Society, but I think the message will clear up the trust issues.” He holds up his phone and sets it on the counter, then pushes play. 

Jared, it’s Chad.

At the sound of my brother’s voice, my hand leaves my purse and my back hits the wall, the air gushing from my lungs. Tears burn my eyes. He’s alive. Deep down, a part of me hadn’t allowed myself to really believe it could be true. 

You were right on the ping on Lara,
the voicemail continues,
I moved her to Denver as we’d planned but there’s trouble. I have to make arrangements. I need you to come here and look out for her for a couple of weeks. Fuck. I have to go. I need you here. I have to protect my fucking sister, man.

And there it is. Proof Chad has been alive all these years and an explanation as to why Jared felt so familiar. On some soul-deep level, I think that Chad must be that odd attachment I felt to Jared in Denver. I felt a bond with him to my brother. “Tell me I haven’t lost him before I find him again.” My voice quakes, the fear digging a hole in my already bleeding heart. 

“I don’t know where he is, but I promise you, I’m trying my damnedest to find him.”

“Not the answer I want.” My throat is raw and scratchy. 

“It’s the only one I have to give.”

I hate that reply as much as Liam must have when I used it on him. “What did he mean by ping?”

“I’m what you might call a tech expert—”

“Might?”

“I’m a hacker, legit now, but I wasn’t always. I use those skills to monitor internet chatter that involves you or your brother and set up pings or notifications if a match occurred. I wasn’t the only one watching you. You went to work at the museum and someone had a wide search that fit the profile of your employment which triggered my pings.”

“So I did this? I made this hell start all over?” I don’t know why I’m asking. I know I’m responsible.  

“No. You didn’t do this. Chad did this, but I think you know that.”

“Know this? I know nothing. Nothing. I am living on the run and I didn’t even know what you knew, that my own brother was alive.” 

Suddenly I’m against the wall and his hands are by my head. “Shhh. You have to be quiet.” 

“I have to do a lot of things. Hide. Change my name. Lie. I have to lie a lot. Don’t lie to me, Jared.”

“Sweetheart--”

“And don’t call me sweetheart, or Lara for that matter. I’m Amy and I’m staying Amy and you’d better not be here to tell me I’m Mary or Casey or Sandy. I’m Amy.”

He stares at me for several beats and says, “Amy. I didn’t come to change your name. I came to save your life and I hope like hell, Chad’s, while I’m at it.”  

“How do you even know him? Why do you care?” 

He pushes off the wall, leans on the sink, his face turning all hard lines and shadows, like he doesn’t like the story he has to tell. “Back when we were at UT together, my sister was dying of cancer and the insurance wasn’t paying for all of the treatments. I can hack. I told you that, and I’m damn good at it. I started doing it for money and Chad knew. What I didn’t know was that he was in deep with some powerful rich assholes, doing some of his own dirty work.”

“What kind of dirty work?”

“Oil guys is all I know. Your dad got involved and got nervous. Chad took over and formed his Underground of followers. I had a sister who had no one but me. I didn’t want to know more and he didn’t offer.” 

My stomach roils with the memory of the stranger handing my father the envelope. I believe what Jared’s saying. It adds up and it feels right. 

“Chad needed a job done,” he continues. “And it paid four times any job I’d done and  I was getting paid well. He knew I’d keep my mouth shut and I trusted him to keep me out of his loop of people.” His voice tightens. “My sister had five more years because I did that job and Chad and I lost contact. Until the fire. He needed to make you both disappear, and like your brother did my sister, I became your guardian angel and back-up plan.”

“And the man who brought me the paperwork and money to disappear with?”

“No idea. I just created your identity.”

“And Meg?”

“Yes. And Meg.” His voice bites on her name. 

“She says she’s Chad’s wife.”

He snorts. “Yeah well, I never heard about a wife. Granted I’ve talked to him all of three times in six years, but I also didn’t hear him asking me to protect his wife on that message. And Chad was a lot of things, but he isn’t someone to turn his back on responsibility, even if love was gone. He’s a man’s man. He’d protect those who count on him to the death.” 

“Yes. Yes, he would.”  

“I also don’t think Meg would be sticking her tongue down some guy’s throat when she thinks her husband is missing now either, would you?” 

“What? What guy?”

He punches a button on his phone and hands it to me, the display showing a photo of  her in an embrace with a man twenty-plus years older than her. And I don’t need a forward shot to know that he’s the same man who’d been cuddling up to my mother and arguing with my father. “Who is he?” I look at him.
“Who is he
?” 

“You’ve seen him before.” It’s not a question.

“Yeah. Arguing with my father, then my brother, and sticking his tongue down my mother’s throat.” 

His gaze sharpens. “Sounds like we have a lot to chat with Meg about, doesn't it?”

“Yes, we do.” But I barely get the declaration out for the splintering in my brain. I sway and Jared closes the distance between us and grabs me. “Whoa. Easy there, sweetheart. You okay?” 

“God, I hate that word.” I suck in a breath, resting my head on his chest and curling my fingers around his shirt. “But yes. Okay. Give me...a minute. Or...two...”  Prickling begins in my head and I both welcome it for the memory I need to embrace and curse the timing. 

“Amy?”

At the sound of Meg’s voice, my head jerks up, sending shooting pain through my skull and I blink into Jared’s worried light brown eyes. He presses his fingers to my mouth, giving me a silent warning. 

I nod, my mind racing. “Yes,” I call out. “I’m fine. I’m sick again. Can you get me a Sprite or something, please?”

“Oh. Sure. Be right back.” Footsteps sound and fade. 

His hands close on my shoulders, too intimate, too like the way only Liam should, but not exactly wrong without being right. “We need to move now,” he says. “Are you able to?”

“I’m fine. It’s just--”

“Blood sugar,” he supplies, reminding me of the excuse I’ve used with him in the past. “Right. Heard that before. The only reason I haven’t grabbed Meg and dragged her someplace and forced the bitch to talk was that I wanted to talk to you first. I needed you to trust me. And as much as I don’t want you with that woman any longer than you have to be, we need to get her alone where I can flex my substantial ability to be influential when I want to be. Go with her to a hotel. I’ll follow.”

“And then?”

“We get answers to where the hell Chad is.”

“You think she knows?” 

“She seems to know a hell of a lot more than either of us.” 

“Yes, she does,” I say bitterly, and the idea that Meg has played a role in hurting my brother seems to have shaken my flashback completely, leaving me with one goal on my mind. Exposing what’s in her head, not mine. 

“The sooner we do this, the better,” I say, and he steps away from me, leaving me suddenly aware that his legs have been pressed way too snugly against mine. 

He knows too. It’s in the air around us, wrapping us in an awareness that has me cutting my gaze and turning to the door. His hand comes down on my shoulder, and I do not feel the liquid heat Liam’s touch creates in me, but I feel warmth and strength. “If you feel threatened at all, get the hell away from her. I’ll have your back. Like Chad had mine.” 

Emotion I can’t afford to feel wells in my chest and I reach for the door, unlocking it and pulling it open. I inhale and exit, leaving my new “protector” behind, and he is that. I don’t doubt it. Jared. I never did. I enter the restaurant, scanning for Meg, but I don’t see her. The front door opens and shuts and I take off running. Bursting through the doors, I have just enough time to see the rental car disappear down the drive. 

A white truck pulls up next to me and the passenger door pops open. “Get in,” Jared orders. 

Rushing forward, I climb inside, but it’s too late. Meg is gone, like my brother, and Jared is driving us I don’t know where.