Nailed (Marked For Love #1) (4 page)

Frowning, I wiped at my damp forehead with the back of my hand and kept walking, but at a much slower pace, my eyes scanning the complex. I didn't see him lurking anywhere around, but the thought of imminent danger made me pick up the pace, replacing the equipment and circling the complex—this time as quickly as possible.

No Wynn.
Anywhere
.

My terror grew, the hair on the back of my neck prickling as I pictured him sneaking up behind me, a dangerous-looking pistol, complete with silencer, clutched in one of his very capable hands. A glance over my shoulder assured me my imagination was working lots of overtime.

From the pool came the sound of splashing. Jeanette Porter and her two little ones were out, determined to take advantage of the cool water before it got any hotter and the pool got too rowdy for the smaller kids. I waved at her while my eyes scanned the front of the complex again.

I couldn't put my finger on it, but up on the second floor, things didn't look right
or
feel right. And JoJo, the manager, hadn't stopped me once this morning when normally she was a total pain in my ass.

I skirted the pool as quickly as I could, picturing her fat ass laid out behind her desk, blood pooling around her body. Yeah, JoJo and I weren't exactly friends, and she wasn't exactly fat, just a dim-witted twat who'd gotten the job because she was engaged to the building's owner.

From JoJo's empty office came the sound of the Rolling Stones whining about satisfaction.
Get in line.

Dismissing the thought of Jojo, I slipped up the stairs as silently as possible. The leaves of the shrubs around the pool rattled, and a nearby wind chime nearly sent me out of my skin as a sudden breeze came whipping through the complex. Nothing else moved, but something wasn't right. I felt it in my gut.

A dozen or so slow steps and I was at my apartment door. It wasn't open, but it wasn't
quite
closed either, and I knew Clyde hadn't left it open. I stood there, palms sweaty, ears straining for any signs of what I might find inside.

Nothing, damnit.

I exhaled, releasing the lip I'd absently caught between my teeth. One last look around the complex and I used my free hand to give the door a gentle push. It caught on the carpet, opening only six or seven inches, but that was enough. Wynn stood in front of a shelf full of framed photos, holding Clyde.

"What the hell are you doing?" I demanded, pushing the door open farther. "And how'd you get in?"

He never even flinched at the sound of my voice. "Waiting for you. JoJo let me in. Said she'd give you a holler and let you know I was here," he replied, turning to face me.

"He bites." I stepped inside, cautiously scanning the room for any other hidden intruders.

"JoJo—"

"No,
Clyde
bites. I haven't spoken to Jojo this morning. Now, what are you doing here?"

"I've decided Cielo might be a nice place to start over, so I went to see JoJo this morning and rented myself an apartment...neighbor."

Bullshit!
He was no more starting over than Clyde was. Whoever Wynn was and whatever he wanted, he wouldn't get it from me. 'Cause I'd be long gone by sundown.

Chapter Six

The slack-jawed expression on Bonnie's face was worth the cost and inconvenience of taking up residence in Cielo's only apartment complex for a week, and not much more. Especially after the shock Wynn had experienced at the sight of golden-eyed Clyde lounging on the back of her ratty old couch and the photos of Karen and Kevin Lyons displayed on the shelf behind him.

The bottom had fallen out of his stomach at the sight of the photos, and, more importantly, at the realization he'd slept with his quarry. And he was an idiot.

And he knew Clyde was a cat, not some mysterious kid she kept locked in a closet somewhere while she went barhopping. The little heart hanging from his collar said so, damn her.

Back to the matter at hand...Bonnie James looked
nothing
like Julie Burt.

Through narrowed eyes, he took a hard look at Bonnie, seeing a bit of a resemblance now that he had her family photos to compare her to. At the very least, they could have been distant cousins. Julie Burt was heavyset with super-short, bleach-blond hair, hazel eyes, lots of jewelry, chubby cheeks and a round ass. Bonnie James had slender curves and long dark brown hair, bright eyes, no fake nails, and a real tan. He'd bet his last twenty dollars she'd also had plastic surgery. Not a lot but enough to shave ten years off her face, maybe an eyebrow lift, a nose job, and green contacts. Subtle changes he could easily pick up on in the bright light of day.
Just
enough to fool him when he hadn't been paying attention.

He'd fucked the woman he'd been sent to
persuade
information out of.

Wynn Collier was in deep shit, and someone was going to pay. Facing Julie with a bland smile on his face, he held up a photo. "Who's this?"

Served Julie right for making him think she had a kid.

"You're staying?" She scowled, the next sentence practically a shriek. "Start over at what?"

The sound of a nearby door opening and closing and footsteps propelled Julie to slam her own door. Wynn struggled to think of her as Bonnie. Julie was a face and a file, someone he'd spent over a year searching for, but Bonnie was a person, a woman he'd slept with, but he seemed to know Julie so much better.

Clyde stood up, stretched, and jumped from his arms to investigate the green stains on Julie's work boots.

"Start a new life. Oklahoma City just hasn't been the same since my divorce." He bit back a grin as her eyes narrowed skeptically. Even to him it sounded like bullshit.

"You know, there's not a lot of jobs in Cielo." Julie uncrossed her arms and propped her hands on her hips, revealing the dark green tank top tucked under the sleeveless shirt she wore. Faded Levi's tucked into the tops of her boots hugged her tiny waist and caressed her hips.

"That's okay. Because you see," he said, replacing the photo, "despite my ex-wife's best efforts to clean me out, I've got plenty to live off of for a while."

"And once it runs out?"

Clyde had moved to the windowsill in order to watch the comings and goings outside and lash the air around him with his bushy gray tail.

"I'm sure I can find something. A simple life doesn't require a lot of money...now does it?" He gave her a sharp-eyed gaze, pleased to see her looking decidedly uncomfortable.

Eyes narrowed, Julie shifted from foot to foot, her fingers now jittery. She didn't like him invading her space, and he knew why. He plucked another photo of Karen and Kevin Lyons off the shelf in front of him. "How come there's no photos of you two together?"

"Because I was usually the one taking the pictures." She crossed the room, snatched the frame from him, and reverently placed it back on the shelf.

She was lying. He'd seen the photos his brother had taken of Julie's apartment after her disappearance. There were tons of pics of the sisters as well as Karen, her husband, and Julie/Bonnie. And old ones of the other sister, the one who'd taken off after high school, never to be heard from again. His brother, John, had tracked her down, and she was currently living the party life in Miami Beach. She didn't know anything. Had barely been moved enough to fly to Scottsdale to tend to her sister's estate or search for Julie...Bonnie...
shit
!

"When do you move in?"

"Tomorrow. Today. Whenever I want. I've already got the key." He held it up as if to prove it to her.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "You go on vacation with furniture?"

"No, my mom's sending it." As soon as he called her and told her to, that is. "Busy tonight?"

"Look, Wynn, you're a nice guy, but you know I don't sleep with the locals, and you're now officially a local."

What the hell?!
Not that sex had been his first thought but . . . "You mean, now that I live here, we can't have sex?" If he couldn't get close to her, he was sunk. If nothing else, he'd figured the one way to get close to Julie was to sleep with her, frequently. Like that was a hardship. Smiling, he said, "Surely you jest."

"I don't jest." Now it was her turn to look smug, damn her.

Time for Plan B, and damn he hated doing this, but he wasn't about to lose whatever tentative grip he had on her. "What if I told you I knew your secret?"

She turned white in the blink of an eye but didn't go so far as to sway on her feet or anything overtly girly, and she recovered quickly. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

Wynn couldn't afford to spook her to the point that she ran. He moved closer until he could smell her sweat mixed with the scent of fresh cut grass. He plucked a piece of grass from her cheek and rolled it between his fingers before dropping it. "My first night in Cielo, it was too quiet and I couldn't sleep, so I went for a drive."

Her cheeks turned pink, and her eyes sparkled with something. Anger probably, or embarrassment. Pale and flushed wasn't the best look for her. 

"I saw you looking in that window—" he nodded thoughtfully—"I know what you were doing. I guess the question is, why? Watching porn would be so much less risky." His smile was meant to soothe, but he didn't think it worked too well on Bonnie. She was definitely on the defensive, and he got the feeling she preferred the
offensive
.

"Maybe I'm just a pervert. You always wander around strange towns in the middle of the night?"

"It wasn't even ten o'clock, and like I said, I couldn't sleep. So how long have you been watching them?"

"Who?" she asked, frowning. The pulse at the base of her throat was going wild.

"Whoever you were watching...how long?" he prompted.

"I have to get back to work." She flung the door open, ushering him out with an angry wave of her hand.

He followed at a much slower pace. "Maybe we can finish this discussion over dinner?"

"I don't cook."

She was lying again. He knew for a fact she used to be quite the gourmet cook. "I'll cook," he offered.

"I don't recall seeing any pots and pans hidden away in your hotel room."

Shrugging, he shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped out into the stifling heat before turning and giving her cleavage one last appreciative glance. "My place, six o'clock, and don't be late."

Chapter Seven

Fucking pictures!

I'd made the mistake of believing I was safe out here in the middle of nowhere. I'd relaxed my guard more than I realized. Thought a few more days wouldn't matter.

If Wynn had gone digging, he could have found my other identities and my cash stash, carefully concealed behind some Sheetrock in the bedroom closet. Obviously he didn't want me dead, but I didn't intend to stick around and find out what he
did
want.

As soon as Wynn was gone, I headed for the bedroom closet, yanked out my suitcases, and threw one on the bed. The other I carted into the living room and threw open on the couch.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
I couldn't take the pictures with me this time. Not one.

Clyde's meow reminded me that I couldn't even take him. He'd be a dead giveaway to whoever came in Wynn's place. I guess I could leave a note, giving him to Wynn since they were such bosom buddies now. I jumped at a knock on the door, then forced myself to relax at the sound of Tony's voice. Opening the door, I acted as normal as possible despite my anger and shaking knees.            

"I got the new linoleum for 5-B."

Sagging against the door, I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Everything okay?" He peered around my shoulder, his eyes widening at the sight of my suitcase, then focused his attention back on me.

"Yeah." We stared at each other for a few heartbeats, looks full of silent understanding. I didn't know Tony's story and he didn't know mine. Some things didn't need to be explained.

"Going somewhere?"

"Yeah." I opened the door and ushered him in, something I'd never done. "Probably."

"Anything I can do to help?"

I scrubbed at the back of my head in frustration. "Um. Fuck! I can't explain. I just have to leave."

"I understand."

I'm sure he did.

"Store my stuff...like you would anyone who skipped out."

"Will do."

"Get started and I'll be there in a few."

I followed him out, locking the door behind me. It wouldn't do much good; it hadn't kept Wynn out. Or rather JoJo hadn't. I didn't want to run, especially not without a plan or a destination, but there was no one to discuss my options with. I'd have to take my chances on the road, like before. But where would I go? I sank down on the couch. I couldn't go back to Scottsdale, I had no family except my sister, Lisa, and we hadn't talked in years. If Wynn had found me, he'd probably found her—or he would.

I'd spent the first six months after Karen's death crisscrossing the country, spending time in libraries and Internet cafés researching people who lived off the grid, how to buy fake identities, and watching the aforementioned mob movies.

No, Karen wasn't killed by the mob. At least, I didn't
think
so. She and Kevin were killed by a gas explosion. And she'd known her life was in danger. Not that she'd bothered to tell me, directly, ya know? But she'd dropped enough hints the last time I saw her.

In hindsight, I couldn't be mad at her since I totally understood her fears.

Why did she run? All I remember of that evening was that we'd talked, reminiscing about the Fourth of July picnic. She'd pulled out a pic of Kevin and his best friend, Duane Huffsteder. Contemplated it. Duane's suicide a few days after the celebration had hit them both hard.

"How's Kevin doing?"

"He's scared."

"Scared?"

"Yeah." She sat silently for a few minutes, then slowly shook her head. "It wasn't a suicide."

"Karen—" I squeezed her hand, "—he hung himself."