Love of Her Lives (12 page)

Calum would
not find himself another room. Nothing had changed. Beth was still in danger. And if she thought she could order him out of her life, she didn’t have an inkling whom she was up against. Order him out of her bed, he conceded, plopping down on the half–a–couch, but Calum never shirked a challenge, and this was naught but a minor setback.

She was a fool. Should she ask the question one more time? What was she doing with Calum? Clearly there was one of those physical forces working here, like gravity but yet to be defined. Some kind of physics crackup that caused her electrons to stick to his protons, powerful enough to vaporize what used to be her good judgment.

Beth had been so close to giving Calum everything. Take her on the elevator floor? Her perfect control for twenty–five years had been shot to hell from one kiss — one mind–blowing kiss, she allowed — but certainly no more a rush than what a drug addict might feel and equally as dangerous.

Okay, perhaps that was an unreasonable analogy. She drew a breath from the bottom of her lungs to calm her down so she could think.

Get a grip.
She didn’t usually flare up over little things like guys taking their shirts off. That eruption obviously happened for some reason, and she didn’t have to think long to figure it out. Anger had come to her rescue — the perfect antidote to kill the urge to drag Calum to her bed. Did she always find something wrong with a man? The thought needled her, but she wasn’t motivated to dwell on that at the moment.

Since her cell phone battery was dead, she walked across the lobby looking for a pay phone.

Matthew was snippy with her on the phone when he found out she’d left Montreal. To save him renting a car and driving to Quebec City, she would just meet him in Montreal in the morning. Despite his irritation, he promised to find her excellent legal representation.

After stopping for a tea, Beth slipped into the hotel room. All was quiet.

Calum had not met her demand and gotten his own room — big surprise there. Part of her was pleased, the double–crossing part, although she wasn’t angry over the shirt anymore.

She supposed her softening was related to tomorrow’s departure. It was separate ways for them in the morning, and she’d like to carry the memory of him being her benevolent love–struck warrior. It didn’t matter any longer where he’d come from or what laws governed the force of attraction she’d felt. All that mattered was getting a good night’s sleep.

• • •

Later on that morning with the sun in the sky, Beth and Calum packed their few belongings. He packed them into the car before joining Beth for breakfast.

“Don’t let me forget to pick up a Toronto newspaper before I leave,” she said when he sat down with his plate. “I want to see if there’s anything further about Meals on the Move.”

“Good idea.” Calum slathered jam on his whole wheat toast. “Will you not eat something?”

“I’m not hungry. I want to talk about last night in the carriage, to set a few things straight.”

Good, she was thinking about that kiss.

“My behaviour was inappropriate and please trust me on this, completely out of character. The storytelling carried me away, and I haven’t been myself, as you can well understand. I know it was just a kiss, but it shouldn’t have happened.”

Calum shot her a playful grin to alleviate her seriousness. “I can’t agree with you on that. What carried you away was your deep and primal heart, and that kiss was an awakening of two parts meant to be one. ‘Tis precisely what should have happened.”

Beth exhaled a truck load of exasperation. “Will you stop talking like that?”

He didn’t answer in words. He sent her a look infused with everything passionate he wished to do to her.

“On second thought, I will get something to eat.” She retreated to the buffet. He watched her look over each serving dish before she picked up a plate.

A smooth English speaking voice rose over the din of the small dining room. “Bernard, isn’t that the woman from the newspaper, the jewel thief? Look at the picture!”

Beth looked up, clearly startled, a spoonful of scrambled eggs hovered over her plate. “W-What?”

“Good gracious,” said Bernard. “I think you’re right.”

Beth dropped her plate.

Calum’s chair scraped the floor as he pushed away from the table. Three steps later, he took the article from the woman’s hand.

A waitress spoke in the ear of another.

“You must see this, Carol,” Calum called to the frozen lass. “The thief has the look of you, to be sure, but her name is Beth Stewart.” He ran his finger under the picture of Beth accepting some kind of award for community service and smiled at the man named Bernard. “That’s my wife, Carol Cunningham. Do they not say that everyone has a double? Come see, Carol, you’ll not believe the likeness.” He smiled through tight teeth at Beth — God, woman, stop looking like stunned deer.

Beth picked up the two halves of the plate, set them on the buffet without looking, and approached the newspaper as one might approach a guillotine. Her voice squeaked at first, and then she cleared her throat. “I look like a jewel thief, do I?”

One of the waitresses had alerted the manager. High heels clicked across the floor toward them.

“Is there a problem here?” the woman asked in French–accented English.

Calum read the woman’s name tag as she quickly scanned the article. “No, no just a case of mistaken identity, Deidrie.” Her head rose to study Beth then fell back to the paper.

“It says one of the meal recipients may have been murdered in her home during one of the robberies,” Bernard offered.

Beth gasped. “Murdered?”

“What a shame,” Calum said and shook his head.

Deidrie’s eyes grew wide. “You are guests at the hotel?” She directed the question to Calum.

“Yes, we are. And a fine place to stay it is, though you may consider adding a seat or two to the couch.” Calum smiled at the woman who thankfully looked charmed.

“We will verify your registration then. Please come with me.”

“Ah, very good,” said Calum. “Carol, why don’t you fetch your identification from the car?” He hugged her and whispered in her ear, “Don’t come back in. Bring the car to the front door.”

Calum walked to the registration desk beside Deidrie.
He
had registered as Calum Cunningham. He drummed his fingers on the counter while he waited for Deidrie to retrieve the information. The concierge from last night was still on duty, so Calum sent him a wink.

“Well, I see
your
name here, Mr. Cunningham. I don’t mean to inconvenience you, but we must verify your wife’s identification.”

“It’s no inconvenience. She’ll be back in a moment.”

A couple from outside stepped into the revolving doors. The man clasped a suitcase in each hand, the woman followed with a shoulder bag.

“Ah, look there now, they’ve arrived,” Calum said. “Our good friends can clear up this wee misunderstanding — Ian, Morag!” Calum walked toward the couple emerging from the door. “How was the drive?” he called as he approached.

The grey–haired man looked up at Calum then glanced back over his shoulder. Yes, I’m speaking to you, Calum thought sharply and smiled tight.

The man’s response was tentative, “Uh, we came by train.”

“Did you now? Very civilized, I hear.”

He had increased his pace to a near charge. The man took a step back. Calum grasped the man’s hand, shook it once and said, “Welcome to the ideal destination for lovers.” He slipped into the door pocket and revolved out.

With a picture in his head of Deidrie picking up the phone to alert the authorities, he quickly scanned the driveway then ran toward the street they had parked on. No sign of Beth. Where the hell was she?

Beth left the hotel, each nerve a tremor from head to toe. She’d acted like frozen vegetables back there. She couldn’t have been more obvious unless she’d had “guilty” in little red lights flashing from her forehead. Thankfully Calum didn’t suffer brain freeze.

She expected him to come charging out of the hotel any minute and glanced back at the front doors. The car keys were in her pocket. As she reached in to grab them a hand clasped her arm.

She turned. “Matthew. What are you doing here?” The scowl on his face was alarming.

“You weren’t expecting me? Sorry to spoil your fun, Beth. I heard all about it from the concierge of the hotel — quite an illicit performance with your lover last night in the lobby. You couldn’t wait, Beth, not even to get to the hotel room?”

“Oh no.” A crude picture flashed in her mind. She’d never behaved with such passionate abandon in her entire life; it just figured she’d get caught. How should she explain? They weren’t broken up in his mind.

Matthew’s lips pulled back off his teeth like an angry dog’s. “What happened to your strict adherence to no sex without a commitment? It never occurred to me that it was
you
not committed. What kind of logic do you live by?”

“I didn’t have sex, Matthew. Let me go and I’ll explain.” His grip tightened as he pushed her down the driveway in front of him.

“Explain?” He snarled through his teeth. “I don’t think your behaviour requires an explanation. It’s straightforward enough. I’ve filled in the gaps, so I don’t need to hear the sordid details of your love affair.”

“I’m not having an affair. I kissed him, that’s it. But the fact remains he did save me from Bruce. I’m rather concerned with that event at the moment.”

His eyes turned black. “You know what, Beth? I’m concerned too. We’re going to have a talk about that backpack.”

They reached the road. His grip was like a bear trap.

“You need to let me go.” She forced the demand up over her trembling vocal cords.
A woman was murdered in her home during a robbery.
“You may be angry, but we have to put that aside for now. The police think I’m a jewel thief, for God’s sake, and now one of the Meals on the Move clients has been murdered. Did you know about that?”

His smile was an ice–cold shiver over her bones. “Yes, I did. Such a shame, love. Maybe we can make a deal.”

“A deal? What are you talking about?” Why would she need to make a deal? “Actually, I don’t need your help. I’ll get my own lawyer.”

He spoke through a clenched smile. “That’s the last thing you’ll do. I’ll not allow you to interfere with my plans. The ground is broken for my hospice, so you’re going to tell me where that money is. No games. No blackmail. Tell me the truth, and I’ll keep you out of jail.”

Blackmail? She and Calum had been right about there being something else in the backpack, something more important than $40,000. Her mind raced. “Let go of my arm, and we can sort this out.” If Matthew didn’t let go, his fingerprints would soon imprint her lower epidermis.

“Let go of my arm now!”

“Beth!” She turned and saw Calum run from the hotel to the street as the grate of a door sliding open sounded. Matthew pushed her off her feet. Unable to stop herself, she fell into the back of a navy–coloured van. Her wrist twisted under her. She skidded across the seat scraping her arm on a seat belt, trying to catch her balance. Matthew shut the door and jumped into the front seat. The vehicle accelerated.

If Matthew’s character shift hadn’t been enough to unnerve Beth, what happened next did it no contest. That event would stay forever planted in her brain in capital letters under “terribly traumatizing.”

The terror came on like a sudden storm with a wind that howled through her head. Not the kind of wind that pushed a person about like in a gale. On the contrary — this was a sucking sort of wind of such high velocity. Beth became a rag doll.

Where had her bones gone?

The upholstered seat whooshed out from under her. Turbulence knocked every molecule about with a force far worse than any ride at Disney World.

She had no time to scream, or perhaps she had and wasn’t able to hear herself.

Every colour of the rainbow flashed by and then smeared together in a downward spiral taking her along. She wasn’t in a bad Monet reproduction, and she wasn’t in the back seat of that van any longer.

Where was she going?

How was she going?

Moments later, she felt the sensation of substance returning to her bones. Her legs firmed like rapid set plaster. The world wobbled out of its whirlwind and she was suddenly standing on solid ground.

What the freaking hell was that?

Calum’s eyes were startled saucers before her — spinning ones — or perhaps that was still her. She felt his grip firm on her shoulders. They both stood on the street where her car was parked.

“What in the name of everything holy happened to you?” Calum demanded.

Nothing in Beth’s twenty–five years of experience, besides the few science fiction movies she’d seen and a couple of bad dreams, could help her answer that question.

“It must have been Finn,” he said. “Come on. We need to get out of here.”

Beth’s feet stayed planted. “What’s a Finn? Calum? We are not just carrying on. I need to know what happened to me. People don’t get sucked out of cars. They don’t whirl through space. They don’t — ”

“Beth, we need to leave now. I can manage Matthew, but I’ve no wish to fend off the police, and they are sure to be coming for us.”

Oh no. Had it really slipped her mind that she was a wanted jewel thief and/or murderer? She tried not to scream out loud at the thought. The screaming in her head was loud enough. “Yes, we need to get away.” She still had the keys in her pocket. Pressing unlock, she threw the fob to Calum. “You drive.”

They raced into her car.

“Go, Calum. Go!”

He fumbled with the gearshift; hit the gas too hard, braked, then eased off.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Woman, don’t harass me, I’ll get it.” Calum looked like a kid with a new toy. They narrowly missed a parked Jeep as he turned the corner.

“You drive like you’ve never driven before.”

“I did not say I had.”

How could that be? “Stop the car.”