When I Find You: A Trust No One Novel (20 page)

Walker’s eyes flashed with anger. A wicked smile played on his lips. “You’re right—it is your choice, but you don’t make a choice like that without all the information. Trust me, Darcy, you don’t want to know everything I’ve seen and done. Maybe someday, after you’ve had a few more life experiences under your belt, I’ll tell you about the people I’ve killed and the women I’ve used up and thrown away. Believe me when I tell you I would not be good for you, and yes—I will protect you from people like me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

He raised an eyebrow, amusement stealing back into his eyes. “Hey, I’ve cleaned up my language for you. The least you can do is not swear in front of me.” His expression made her smile in spite of her frustration.

“I’m not giving up on you, Walker.”

“You’re a stubborn woman. I’d be disappointed if you did. Now, take a shower and get dressed. Breakfast will be ready before you are.” He rose to leave, but she caught his hand.

“I hate arguing with you. I need you.” She couldn’t stand the thought of losing his friendship.

He leaned in to kiss her forehead. “You just proved my point. A woman who hates to argue? You really are too good for me.”

She shook her head as he turned his back and left.

The hot shower pelted her skin and eased the tension still evident in her muscles from last night’s events. Walker’s belief that he would somehow taint her if he let himself care about her was absurd. So he’d done some things in his life he wasn’t proud of. Who hadn’t? Deep down, he was honest, compassionate, and kind . . . a good person, in spite of his dire warnings to the contrary. He proved it by the way he stayed with her last night until her fear subsided enough to go to sleep and by the very way he put her up there on that pedestal and determined he wasn’t good enough for her. If he wasn’t a good person, he wouldn’t care. He’d simply take what she was offering.

Her mother once told her all a woman had to do to turn a man on was show up. Evidently it wasn’t that simple . . . or she just wasn’t woman enough. The one thing she was sure of was she cared about Walker—probably way more than she should. She trusted him completely. Somehow, she had to convince him he was trustworthy.

Darcy took the time to blow-dry and brush out her long, wavy hair, throw on some makeup, and choose something to wear from the things Cara had left her. The burgundy knit pullover was form-fitting with a deep V-neck. She wore it over a lacy camisole and still it revealed more skin than she was used to. At least the long sleeves covered her bruises. The jeans rode low on her hips and were a little big but an improvement over the pair she wore yesterday. Finally satisfied, she grabbed her cell phone and went downstairs.

The scrumptious smell of sausage frying caused her stomach to growl as she entered the kitchen.

Walker was talking on his phone, and Cooper sat at the kitchen table reading a newspaper. They both stared at her until the deputy gave a low whistle, which brought disapproval to Walker’s eyes. He turned away and continued talking. Darcy walked to the cupboard and removed dishes to set the table.

“You’re looking well-rested this morning.” The deputy’s gaze followed her as she moved around the table.

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you last night for . . . what you did.”

“Just doing my job. May I call you Darcy?”

“Of course. You’re joining us for breakfast, aren’t you? Looks like Walker fixed enough for an army.”

“Thank you. That would be great. Walker told me Johnny Fontana called. Did he give you any indication where he is?”

“No.” Something in Cooper’s tone made her hesitate. He dropped the line of questioning as soon as Walker ended his call.

“Joe said the marshals are keeping a lid on the investigation into what happened at Johnny’s house. All they’ll say is he’s missing and presumed dead.”

“But we know that’s not true.” Darcy’s frustration sharpened her tone. Apparently, no one was above lying—not even the marshals. Made it a little hard to know who to trust, and she was tired of running, hiding, and being afraid all the time. She just wanted this to be over. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

“So do they. We know Johnny is alive and yet they’re still telling us he’s dead. I don’t like being lied to, especially by government agencies. There’s just something wrong with that.”

“Give ’em a break, Walker. They’ve got a lot at stake here.” Cooper folded his newspaper and laid it on the table. “They want DeLuca and they think Johnny can deliver. A little cover story like this won’t even make ’em break a sweat.”

Walker placed a skillet of scrambled eggs and sausage on a trivet in the middle of the table. “I think Marshal Evans’s appearance last night proves we’re not the only ones who know.”

“Evans was after Darcy.” Cooper forked a piece of sausage onto his plate.

“If that’s true, why didn’t he just kill her? Why was he trying to get her out of here alive?”

“You think he wanted her to draw Johnny out?”

“Let’s eat.” Walker grabbed the coffeepot and filled the cups.

Darcy glanced at him and caught the warning look he threw the deputy. Was there something going on between them they weren’t telling her? Her questions went out of her head when Walker smiled at her in obvious approval for her choice of wardrobe.

“Cara’s?”

“Yes—is it all right?”

“I’m pretty sure she never looked that good in it.” He whispered low enough only she could hear.

She refused to look away from his eyes, even when heat flooded her face. Finally, he winked, took her hand, and led her to a chair, which he pulled out for her.

When they’d eaten, Darcy cleaned up the dishes and put the leftovers in the refrigerator while Walker and Cooper stepped out on the deck. She couldn’t hear them, but Walker’s tense stance, his fisted hands, and the way he kept getting in Cooper’s face told her he was angry. Cooper’s dark scowl and the way he waved his arms about when he spoke suggested he wasn’t taking it well either.

When Walker reentered the kitchen alone a few minutes later, he carried the Walther P22. “I want you to fire it a few times, just to get the feel of it. When you’re tired, we’ll stop.”

A car started out front. “Where’s Deputy Cooper going?”

“He’ll be around. He’s going to run some errands in town and check in with his boss. I told him to come back for dinner and to stay the night. Is that all right with you?”

“Sure. I think he’s forgiven us for that first day.” She laughed lightly. “What were the two of you arguing about?”

His expression became guarded. “There’s something . . . I can’t put my finger on it, but I don’t trust him completely. I don’t want him to know anything about the safe room yet.” He sounded as though he expected her to argue.

“Whatever you say.”

Surprise reflected in his eyes for an instant. “I could get used to that.”

Walker took her to a spot beyond the helicopter landing where some straw bales were lined up at the base of a small embankment. He’d brought cans from the recycle bin, which he placed in rows across the top of the straw. Moving back twenty-five feet, he showed her how to load the clip, insert it, and inject a shell into the chamber. He patiently taught her how to line up the target through the sight and squeeze the trigger smoothly.

“Like Cara said, it’s got a light trigger, so don’t put your finger on until you’re ready to fire. As soon as you pull the trigger, the gun is ready to fire again. Be careful or it’ll go off before you’re ready. Sight on the cans, but don’t worry about hitting anything. This is just to get you comfortable.”

The gun felt a little less awkward this time, even though the palms of her hands were sweating. There were so many things to remember—how to stand, how to hold the weapon and aim, keep your eyes open, squeeze slowly. They made it look so easy in the movies. Darcy’s first ten shots didn’t come anywhere near the cans or the straw bales, but by then she was determined she would hit her target before she was done. After her next ten shots went wild again, Walker opened a new box of shells and set it down beside her.

“Shoot as much as you want, but remember . . . there’s always tomorrow.” He winked and went to find a spot on the ground behind her to sit.

She lost track of how many times she reloaded and fired. Now and then, Walker called out an instruction or pointed out something she needed to work on. The box of shells was getting low by the time she hit her first can and sent it spinning off the back of the bale. She let out a small cry of excitement, which brought a corresponding whoop from Walker. Now that she’d finally put all of the instructions together correctly once, the actions were etched in her memory and every shot she fired from then on sent a can into the dirt. Walker went to reset the cans as she loaded the last of the shells into the clip, and she knocked them down again.

Darcy couldn’t help feeling excited and proud of her accomplishment. Her smile wouldn’t quit. Walker grinned as he picked up spent cartridges from the ground beside her. When she threw her arms around his neck impulsively, he caught her and twirled her around as she’d seen him do with Cara, but when he set her down, she didn’t let go. His eyes turned dark and stormy, but even that wasn’t enough to deter her. She raised her lips to his and his kiss was hungry with desire. He crushed her to him one minute, and the next his hands were everywhere . . . beneath her shirt, caressing her bare skin . . . inside her loose-fitting jeans, his hands splaying over her bottom and pressing her against him. She was breathless, lost in the emotions that assailed her, and she trembled with anticipation. She should have known Walker would interpret that as fear.

Abruptly, he pushed her away. He turned, breathing heavily, and Darcy thought for a moment he might be in pain. She stepped toward him again and put her hand on his arm. He flinched and pulled away, and she felt the sharp slap of rejection. Dropping her hand, she stood and watched him a few seconds before she turned and strode toward the house.

She didn’t stop until she was through the secret entrance in the study, down the darkened stairs, and in the safety and solitude of the hidden room. Even then, she wished there was a way to lock out everyone else and fix it so she never had to go back up and face him.

It wasn’t his fault. He’d warned her. Even though he was obviously attracted to her, he wouldn’t give in to desire—not with her—because it would somehow destroy her life. In her naïveté, she’d thought she could convince him otherwise. She’d been wrong, and now she knew enough to admit defeat. It didn’t make her feel any less a fool, however. In addition, it hurt. Deep down, where she’d never felt anything before, an unbearable sadness wrenched great sobs from her as she threw herself down on the bed. Was this what it felt like to be in love? If it was, she didn’t want anything to do with love ever again.

Chapter Twelve

“W
HERE’S
D
ARCY?”
C
OOPER
looked up from the salad Walker had instructed him to make.

Walker took a frozen pizza from its box and prepared to shove it in the oven. He was struggling not to be short-tempered with the deputy, but he was in no mood for small talk. Sharp pangs of regret still assaulted him every time he thought about Darcy’s stricken expression. She wasn’t in her room when he came to his senses and went there to apologize. He panicked and searched the rest of the house, looking all over outside as well before he realized she was in the safe room. He’d told her to go there if she felt threatened. It hadn’t escaped his notice she’d taken refuge there to get away from him.

She gave no response when he said her name, nothing when he sat down beside her on the bed and told her he hadn’t meant to hurt her. It wasn’t until he tried to roll her over so he could see her face that she made any response at all.

“Don’t,” was all she said, the one word dropping like a stone in his heart. Afraid of the emotions coursing through him, he left her there, retreating to the world above, empty now because she wasn’t in it. She didn’t come out for lunch or when Cooper returned in late afternoon, and Walker doubted she would show her face for dinner.

He was losing it. For the first time since he’d left home at sixteen, he didn’t know what his next move should be.

“I’m telling you, Walker, we need to draw Johnny out from under his rock so we can find out what the hell’s going on.”

Walker slammed the oven door, then held his breath a moment before he spoke. “Why don’t you just find one of your colleagues who’s willing to tell us what’s going on?”

“Apparently, I’m on a need-to-know basis. I’m shut out—by my own agency. That really pisses me off.”

“We’ve got a job to do—protect Darcy. I can do that by myself, so if you want to run along back to the director and get reassigned, maybe they’ll fill you in on Johnny.”

“I’ll hang out here awhile longer. We’ve had some excitement. We got Evans anyway. If we wait long enough, maybe Reggie will show up.”

“You say that like it would be a good thing. Do I have to remind you Darcy is the first priority?” He was tired of this conversation and the deputy was seriously fraying his nerves. Best to remove himself from the temptation of beating the shit out of Cooper. “I’ve got some work to do in the study. Take the pizza out when the timer goes off.”

“Is Darcy coming down for dinner?”

“I don’t know.” Walker left him there and went to the study, closing the door behind him. It was still important the deputy not find out about the safe room. It was just a hunch, but hunches had saved his ass a time or two before.

He triggered the door, stepped down into the dark, and waited until the opening sealed up behind him, throwing him into complete blackness. There was no light coming from the room below either and he quickened his step. At the seventeenth stair, the lights came on. Darcy lay in almost exactly the same place she’d been when he left her hours ago. Worry squeezed his chest. As he approached the bed, she rolled over and raised her head to look at him. His relief was only momentary. The change in her was profound. She didn’t smile or acknowledge his presence in any way. Her eyes were vacant and it was clear she’d been crying. She pushed herself up and sat stiffly, her arms wrapped around her knees, and watched him guardedly. When he sat beside her, she flinched away from him. He had that coming, of course, but it killed him just the same.