Authors: Wendy Byrne
“Prince Charming? Who do you think you’re kidding? Do you really think I’m that naïve? You make me sound like a blooming idiot.” Why couldn’t he see the logic in what she was saying? Could he possibly be so scared, he couldn’t get past his own version of how things should be?
She couldn’t cry. No, she wouldn’t cry. But keeping all that emotion inside hurt like hell.
“I’m not saying you’re an idiot. I’m saying you expect me to be and feel something I can’t.”
“Can’t? Or don’t want to?”
“You’re splitting hairs.”
“Shane, can’t you see you’re avoiding emotion at all costs? It all goes back to your mom.”
“Don’t bring my mom into this. She has nothing to do with this discussion.”
“Let’s see…hmm…you lose the one person in your life who loves you unconditionally, and you stand there telling me it doesn’t impact your life?” Gabriella knew she’d crossed the line, but somehow couldn’t stop herself. “You still haven’t forgiven yourself over what happened to your mother, even though it wasn’t your fault. It’s festering inside you like that big old scar on your stomach. But it’s bigger and more painful than that could ever be.”
“You don’t know me, Gabriella.”
“I know more than you think. More than you could imagine. But it’s still not enough to break through that blackened heart of yours.”
“Well, if I’m such a loser, why did you pursue me to begin with? Why didn’t you leave things as they were?”
She heard the pain he’d endured all those years in his voice, and it made her ache. “Don’t you see? I couldn’t stop myself. Despite all your hard work at making yourself totally unlovable, it didn’t work with me. I saw the real you, Shane. And maybe that scares you more than anything.”
“This is a ridiculous conversation.” She could tell he was both itching to leave and itching to stay. He kind of fidgeted in place until he moved towards the door.
She didn’t want to fight with him, only wanted to force him to see reason. Based on the look on his face, it hadn’t worked. “Aren’t you going to kiss me goodbye?”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” His voice was nothing more than a whisper.
“Are you afraid of what you might feel?”
“I don’t feel. I haven’t allowed myself that luxury in a very long time.”
“Then you shouldn’t be afraid to kiss me before you leave.”
His touch was gentle at first, as if she might break. But then he put everything he had into the kiss, as if he never wanted to leave. “I’m doing the right thing,” he said when he pulled away.
She refused to respond even though she knew he wanted her to agree. He wasn’t doing the right thing. She could feel it. Why wouldn’t he listen to reason?
“The silent treatment is never going to work, Gabriella. You couldn’t pull it off to save your soul. If you could, it would rank right up there with the Seven Wonders of the World.”
“That’s mean.” She folded her arms across her chest and wished she could convince him to work with her, Patrick, Jesse Jackson, or even the Dali Lama for all she cared. She didn’t want him to be alone on this.
“I can’t take you. It’s too dangerous. Besides, you’ve done too much already.”
“Going in there alone is suicide.” Fear unlike anything she’d ever known took hold of her. She had an ominous premonition circling inside her brain that she couldn’t shake.
“It’ll work. They’ll be expecting me to hit there in the middle of the night when no one’s around. But if I go at rush hour, the streets will be full of people. They won’t take the risk.”
Frustration played on her nerves. “There aren’t very many people around that area during the day. Besides, the police have combed the Blues Stop. Nothing can be hidden there. Walt’s lying or you’re lying. You know what ‘A new US 10.28.52’ is, you just won’t tell me.”
She saw the truth in his eyes before he shrugged nonchalantly. “The Blues Stop is the only lead I’ve got. I’m going to follow it and go from there.”
She chewed on her lip. “It’s not like you can blend in. You’re going to stand out no matter what you try.”
“And you’re ten times more beautiful than most women, so they’d pick you out for sure.”
“Don’t try to charm me. I’m immune.” She huffed out a sigh, knowing that now that he was halfway healthy she couldn’t win this battle even if she knew in her heart his plan was doomed. “You don’t have to throw yourself on the fire to avoid facing how you feel.”
“If you want to believe that’s what this is about, go ahead. I’m doing what I need to do.”
Without another word, let alone another kiss goodbye, he walked out the door. She turned on the music as loud as it could go and paced. This whole thing was going to go bad, really bad, even though she didn’t know why or how.
Finally, she did the only thing she could. Maybe somehow Patrick could protect Shane, assuming he was a good guy.
She drew in a breath and began to dial.
* * *
Shane snagged the keys from the hook inside the garage. She’d be stubborn enough to chase after him. Couldn’t she remember it as a night of mind-blowing sex and leave it at that?
Now he felt like an ass.
For almost a week, he’d slept in the same bed with her every night and nothing had happened. Granted, he was out of it for several of those days. Still, as soon as they got to the Ryans’ house he should have put an end to that. Sleeping in the same bed gave the illusion of intimacy. Forced separation would have kept him in control. Then again, that one night she’d slept in the other room, he’d craved the touch of her body. Missed the softness of her skin against his. Initiating anything between them was stupid.
He’d known this would happen if they had sex. Hadn’t he tried to warn her? Now she was making assumptions about how he felt.
In love with her? Hell, he’d never been in love in his entire life. He wasn’t going to start now. From junior high on, he’d had a string of girlfriends that lasted anywhere from a couple of days to a couple of weeks. By the time he’d graduated from high school, no relationship had lasted longer than the sex itself. Which suited him fine. He liked to keep his distance and avoid any kind of emotional entanglements. He was a guy. That’s how the male of the species thought. How dare she assume his reticence had something to do with what happened to his mother?
Sure he liked Gabriella. He was intrigued by her. Then again, who wouldn’t be? She was a drop-dead gorgeous woman, with intelligence and charm and wit that would have most men panting after her like a dog in heat. Would he miss her when she went back to Florida? Probably, but he’d get over it. Just like he always did.
The one thing he wouldn’t get over was if something happening to her because he’d put her in the middle of this mess. This problem rested squarely on his shoulders, and her pleas for anything different were wasted.
He’d always acted alone. And this situation wasn’t any different.
* * *
Within five minutes, she was ready to crawl out of her skin from worry. Even though Patrick had said he’d go to the Blues Stop, she should have followed Shane. It was sheer torture to sit and wait for the phone to ring. She had to do something.
But unlike Shane, she knew she couldn’t do it alone. First she called a cab, then she called Donna. “I need your help. Give me your address. Or meet me somewhere if there’s a cop camped outside so we can’t be followed.”
“They’ve been leaving me alone for the last couple of days. Why? What’s going on?”
“Shane went on a suicide mission and I sent Patrick to help him. But I haven’t heard from either one. And I can’t sit here and wait a minute longer.” Somehow, over the last couple of days, she’d adjusted to being in charge and didn’t like being kept out of the loop.
“Men.” Donna uttered the word like a curse. “It sounds like they need us.”
“The cab’s here. I’ll need to borrow some money, but I’ll be at your place as fast as I can.” She hung up and rushed into the cab.
As the cabbie promised, getting to Donna’s didn’t take very long. Standing on the front porch with her dark hair pulled into a ponytail and wearing jeans and tennis shoes, Donna was waiting when Gabriella exited the cab.
Her phone rang. Instinctively, her belly tightened. “Shane?”
“No, it’s Patrick. Shane’s not at the Blues Stop.”
She kept walking toward Donna as she talked. “I knew it.” Fear trickled along her spinal column.
“Any ideas?”
“Do you think he got in and out already? Or somebody got to him?” While she hated to consider the worst case scenario, based on the ferocity with which the bad guys were coming after them, she had to consider the possibility even though the very idea made her go weak in the knees.
“Shane wouldn’t have taken any chances. Besides, he didn’t have much of a head start. I don’t think he ever intended to come here. He had to figure you might follow him.”
“But why…” Of course he wasn’t going to the Blues Stop. The evidence wasn’t there. But where was he?
“Gabriella?” Patrick interrupted her train of thought.
“Let me call you back.” She clicked off the phone and looked at Donna. “Paper and pen.”
Gabriella wrote down the phrase that had been brewing inside since she’d seen it in Shane’s e-mail box. It meant something. And Shane knew what it was.
“What does it mean?”
“This was in Shane’s e-mail box. Vince Perry sent it to him. Nothing else. No explanation.”
“Let’s call Carissa. I bet she could help.” Donna dialed the phone. Once Carissa picked up, she immediately changed it to speaker phone.
“Carissa, it’s Gabriella and Donna. We need your help. Shane’s life is in danger.” She gave her a quick recap of the morning, along with the information from Vince. “Any ideas?”
“Let me write it down. It’s got be relatively simple.” Carissa remained quiet for a few minutes. “The date can’t be a real date for obvious reasons. Something that happened in 1952 can’t be related so that was to throw us off track. What else does a series of numbers represent?”
“An address, a combination…” Gabriella stopped and looked at Donna. “Was there some kind of hidden safe at the Blues Stop?”
“Not that I know of. Besides, that would be way too obvious.”
Her mind was racing a million miles a minute but producing nothing useful. Every minute that passed ratcheted up the danger Shane was in.
Finally, Carissa spoke. “What about a locker number?”
Donna nodded. “Where are there lockers?” She clung to the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “Airports, bus stations, train stations. But if he’s headed downtown that means bus or train.”
Carissa shouted into the phone. “I’ve got it. US means Union Station. That’s got to be it.”
Her heart pumped. Maybe she could save Shane from his own stubbornness. She glanced at Donna. “Where’s that?”
“About ten minutes away.”
“Thanks, Carissa. You’re a genius.”
“Just glad I could help. And before I forget, Garrett’s on his way back. His plane should be landing within the next half hour.”
“Thanks. I’ll give you a call when we find Shane. In the meantime, call Garrett and send him to Union Station.”
Donna drove while Gabriella called Patrick. “We think Shane’s going to Union Station. Can you meet us there?” She struggled to breathe as fear started to take over.
“It’ll take me about twenty minutes,” he said, then hung up.
“What if the A stands for Annie? Maybe she hid that video in the locker,” Donna maneuvered her way around one car, beeping her horn when another tried to get in her way.
“That’s got to be it. ‘A new’ meant Annie knew. ‘US’ meant Union Station and then the locker number.” Suddenly all the pieces fell together in her mind. She was staking Shane’s life on the fact they were right. Based on the number of bad guys sent after them in Wisconsin, there wouldn’t be only one person around to capture Shane. Then again, they didn’t know where he was headed. At least she hoped not.
“What are we going to do when we get there?” Donna’s question broke through her thoughts.
After everything Gabriella had been through in the last week, she no longer was one of those people who let others take care of things. She was a strong black woman, and wasn’t about to let Shane go at this alone. “You wait out in front for Patrick. I’ll go inside. Then I’ll have to play it by ear. How long before we get there?”
“It’s about a block away.” Donna pointed toward a crowd of people spilling out of an old gray stone building.
Traffic was at a standstill as people walked across the street, against lights, around cars, with a single-minded kind of focus. As the car inched along at a snail’s pace, her nerves started to pop one at a time.
She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Shane had been gone nearly an hour. He had to be inside by now. They could be waiting for him. It could very well be a trap. Unable to sit inside the car one second longer, she threw open the door. “I’m going.”
“Gabriella, wait for—”
That was all she heard as she slammed the car door shut. Determined to help, she sprinted through the hoards of people spilling into the street. They came in waves, cresting and receding in a rhythmic pattern.