Love Inspired Suspense July 2015 #2 (47 page)

TWELVE

T
he trees parted. A narrow and twisted back road lay at their feet. Water coursed down it like a river. They sloshed in. Daniel grabbed Olivia's hand. The water was already knee-deep on her.

Rain beat against their bodies as though it was trying to push its way straight through. Branches and debris swirled down the water past them. Southern Ontario was no stranger to harsh late-summer thunderstorms, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a storm hit this hard. If the rain didn't let up soon, a lot of the roads would be impassable. And even more rain was predicted to fall before the weekend was through.

The dark, ghostly shapes of abandoned stores and houses appeared ahead of them in the gloom. A small brick church sat by the edge of town. He pulled Olivia toward it. The door was closed, but it opened when he leaned his shoulder into it. They tumbled out of the rain. Olivia held up her cell phone and shone the light over the abandoned space. A couple of broken pews. A few dusty crates of books. An old hand-drawn sign announcing a strawberry social that had no doubt been held a very long time ago. She switched the phone off and slid it back into her pocket. “I still can't get a signal and the battery is down to five percent.”

“I wouldn't be surprised if the storm knocked out the cell towers.”

Maybe even the electricity and phones, too. Thankfully, Sarah had escaped before the worst of the storm hit. Hopefully she was safe at the motel now, curled up in the shabby front lounge chatting with the police. Olivia sat on the floor and looked out at the rain. He sat beside her. The motel and campgrounds were probably less than an hour's walk now. Rain like this came in waves. They'd wait for the next break then start running again.

“I never realized just how many abandoned buildings there were out in the country.” A sad sigh left Olivia's body. “I can't imagine having a home and just leaving it.”

Yeah, he'd felt similarly the first time he'd realized such a picturesque world existed commuting distance from Toronto. “Well, a lot of smaller farms and communities are struggling economically. Factories and farms shut down. Stores can't afford to keep their doors open. Towns die. People leave. Sometimes shutting the door and walking away is easier than fighting for something that no longer seems livable.” He shook his head. “But I was hoping that one day I'd move up here permanently.”

Olivia pressed her lips together. The soft patter of rain and rumble of thunder filled a long pause between them.

“I never had a home,” she said. “We moved constantly when I was growing up, all over Canada and the States. So I lived in a lot of temporary apartments. Nineteen total by the time I left for college. Sometimes I'd just get settled in a school, then wake up the next day to hear we were moving again. Sometimes I'd just have an air mattress and a suitcase on the floor. Everything I owned fit in one big red suitcase.”

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I definitely know what it's like to live out of a suitcase. But it's different when you're an adult and choose it.”

“Well, my dad was in manufacturing and had trouble keeping steady work. He was definitely in a tough segment of the industry and there weren't a lot of jobs going. But he had a lot of conflicts with employers, too. Some refused to pay him his final paycheck or paid him less than he thought he was owed. Which is why I took the Leslie Construction trial and the idea Brian cheated all those people kind of personally at first. Dad blames everyone but himself. Mom definitely blames him. They barely managed to stick together while I was young, and eventually split up when I left home. My sister, Chloe, blames both of them.” She leaned against his shoulder.

“Blame's a tricky thing.” He slipped his arm around her. “At least for me anyway. Don't always know where to put it, and sometimes it's hard to get rid of the need to. For a long time I blamed Mona, one hundred percent, for ruining our marriage by cheating on me and leaving. Not to mention blaming her for her drug and alcohol problems. Because, obviously, those were her choices.” He could feel Olivia's hair against his cheek. He ran his hand down over her shoulder until his fingers brushed against her hand. “I blamed Rita, too, for taking her in when she left me and encouraging her in her dangerous lifestyle. But, in the end, I also blame myself for not seeing it coming. See, my parents got married as teenagers and were together their whole lives. Mona was the first time I'd ever fallen in love. I just took it for granted that it was all going to work out for us the way it did for my parents.”

He hadn't thought it through. He hadn't gone into his marriage with his eyes open. He'd been too swept up in emotion. He couldn't ever let that happen again.

“I blamed God,” Olivia said. “My mom used to take me to church with her and I loved it. Because it didn't matter whether we were in Manitoba or Florida, there were people who all sang the same songs, read the same Bible stories and welcomed me like family. I used to pray every single time we moved that this move would be the last, that this time I'd finally have a real house of my own, that this time God would keep my dad from fighting with people. Eventually, I got so hurt and angry, I stopped praying...”

Her voice trailed off into sob. He pulled back just enough to turn and face her. “Hey, it's okay.”

She shook her head. “No, it's not. Because I got so caught up in trying to protect my job with the paper that I wasn't fully honest with you. I never lied to you. But I also never told you that Vince was cutting staff. I never told you that I needed this Leslie Construction story to keep my job. I never told you that Vince doesn't know I'm up here chasing this story and in fact told me not to chase it—”

What?
Frustration rose at the back of his neck. He could feel his shoulders stiffen and pull back, in that old familiar way they'd done every time he'd caught Mona lying to him. He started to pull away. Then stopped.

There were tears building in the corners of Olivia's eyes.

“I don't have a home.” Tears flooded her voice, too. “Just a small apartment. I haven't even bought curtains or shelves to decorate it because I live every day half expecting that something's going to happen and I'll need to move on. My mom, dad and Chloe all live in completely different places.
Torchlight
was the closest thing I had to somewhere I belonged and I chased this story hard because I didn't want to lose that.”

He stopped himself from pulling away and felt her head fall into the crook of his neck.

“I always feel as though I'm clinging on so tight to everything because I'm afraid something's going to take it away from me,” she said. “It's exhausting. But spending time with you, seeing how you treat people, hearing how you just pray as if talking to God is as normal as breathing, reminds me of how much I miss having faith in something bigger than myself. You made me realize I miss praying. You made me realize I hate what it feels like to not trust anyone or anything. You're such a good man, Daniel. You don't disrespect Mona's memory, even though she treated you badly. You take great care of Sarah, even when she pushes you away. You were even decent to Hawk and Rita and Jesse and Trent. You've been good to me. Even though I'm just some totally unwelcome, unwanted intrusion that tumbled into your life—”

Tears choked out her words.

“Hey! Listen to me.” He took her face in both hands. “I'm not going to pretend I'm happy that you came up here without telling your editor.” In fact, the tension in the back of his neck told him he'd probably need a bit of time to process out how he felt about it. “But you're being way too hard on yourself. We all do lousy things. We all have moments we regret. Sometimes it feels as though I've more than used up my quota of forgiveness and second chances.”

His fingertips brushed the sides of her face. Her eyes were locked on his face. Even battered and exhausted, she was breathtaking. His voice grew husky. “And yeah, you kind of unexpectedly fell into my life, Olivia. But no, trust me, you're not unwanted or an intrusion. Believe it or not, I actually really like having you around. I'm glad we're in this together.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, a soft, gentle smile that set her eyes dancing. “I'm glad we're in this together, too.”

The corners of his lips turned up into a wry smile. His fingers slid up into her tangled hair. She was so close he could feel her breath on his skin. He pulled her closer still and a thought crossed his mind that made his heart stutter a beat—

He'd never felt someone fit so comfortably and simply between his arms before.

Her head tilted toward his. His mouth brushed over hers. He let himself kiss her. Gently. Sweetly. With a tenderness he'd never felt before.

But their lips had barely met when she pushed him back hard.

“I'm sorry! I can't!”

He let her go, feeling both stunned and embarrassed. Not to mention angry at himself. “Then, I'm sorry, too.”

“No, you don't understand.” Olivia leaped to her feet. “Sarah told me she'd give me an exclusive interview on the condition I promised to stay away from you. And I didn't say no.”

* * *

She watched as he frowned and the light dimmed from his eyes. Realizing she'd hurt him felt worse than anything he could have said. She turned away and let the drizzle outside fill her view.

I didn't say yes to Sarah, either! I didn't say anything. But I definitely considered saying yes. He deserved to know.

After all, what would happen when they showed up together at the motel and met up with Sarah? After hugs of relief and police reports, then what? They'd probably all be right back where they'd started. Olivia would still need a story to keep her job. Daniel would be more convinced than ever that it was best to find another reporter. The young, self-centered heiress would probably yet again force Olivia to choose between the job that she loved and the fledgling feelings she'd felt when Daniel's lips met hers.

“Looks as though the rain's let up for now.” Daniel stood up. “We should go. There's no way of knowing when the next break in the rain will be, and I don't want to get stuck out here all night.”

His voice was pleasant enough. He was back to using that same charming yet totally guarded tone he'd used when they'd first met up in the diner, for a coffee they'd never actually managed to have. As if they were now nothing but acquaintances again.

Maybe that was all they ever were.

“Good idea.” She didn't meet his eye.

They stepped back out into the night and kept running, faster this time, as if they were both trying to hurry away from the moment of closeness they'd barely shared. He jogged ahead of her, casting occasional glances back to make sure she was still following. They stuck to the sidewalk until it disappeared and then ran along what would have been the shoulder. The rain had tapered, but water still coursed down the road. The news had reported that even more rain would fall by the time the weekend was through.

They climbed a hill. Faint lights of highway and the motel lay in the distance ahead. She breathed a sigh of relief. They trudged down, side by side, through the damp, dark air.

“The photographer who drove you up is named Ricky, right?” Daniel asked. “Do you trust him?”

She blinked. It felt like ages since either of them had said anything. “Yeah, he's a really good guy. Why?”

“Who else knew you were coming up here?”

“Just Ricky. Again, why?”

Tension rose up her back. She couldn't read his face in the darkness. But his voice was so calm and logical, it almost sounded cold.

“Because someone tried to kidnap you outside the diner,” he said. “Because someone brought trouble and violence to my house in the night. I let it go the first time you told me your friend from work couldn't be involved. But now that I know you came up on your own without going through the proper channels, I'm beginning to think it's even more possible the trouble came from someone on your end.”

Her jaw dropped and for a moment she couldn't even think of what to say. “You can't be serious.”

“Oh, I'm deadly serious.” Now his voice had a bitter edge. “I've been doing nothing but thinking for the past while. All I can think is someone took a picture of us outside the diner and we still don't know why someone would do that.”

“Yeah, but that wasn't actually Ricky. You just thought it was. Remember? I found out he hadn't made it back yet—”

He kept talking as though she hadn't even spoken. “And then someone tried to kidnap you.”

“Yes, someone with a mask just like the three men who killed Brian and just torched your garage.”

“Yes. But he didn't look like Rake, Brute or Shorty to me. His mask was similar but less distinctive.”

Yeah, she'd come to the same conclusion when talking with Ricky. None of the men who'd just blown up Daniel's garage had the same gravelly voice that had taunted her in the car and on the phone.

“So maybe my abductor was the client who hired them. Or maybe he's a fourth member of the Crew, and there are more Faceless men out there than we knew about. I don't know. I just know that none of what we're going through has to do with me or my paper.”

Why were they even fighting about this?

“How can you be so sure?” He let out a sigh that was so gruff it almost sounded like a growl. “We suspect all the trouble we've been in is connected to Brian, because he was a lying, stealing lowlife. I just took it for granted that someone tried to abduct you because of your connection to me. I even wondered if someone mistook you for Sarah in the darkness. You probably have wondered the same thing. But how can you be so sure that your own reckless, impulsive tendencies to just
do
things without thinking haven't been putting us in trouble?”