Some things were just meant to be.
Darius was beginning to think that he and Catherine were one of
them.
“Where are we headed?” she asked, her gaze on the landscape
that zoomed by, the tension in the truck so thick that Darius felt it with every
heartbeat.
“To the coast.”
“What?” She straightened, her gaze hot and steady on him.
“We’re going to the coast. Personal Securities has a safe house
on a private beach there. It’s not being used, so Ryder gave the go-ahead to
bring you there.”
“Great, except I didn’t give the go-ahead to be brought.”
“You said that’s where you wanted to be. In a little cottage on
the coast, listening to the waves and taking time to figure out where you wanted
to go with your life.”
“I know, but I didn’t expect to be there with you.” She sounded
appalled.
“Taryn is going to be with us, Catherine. It’s not like we’re
going on a romantic getaway.”
“Let me guess. Taryn is some big, buff security specialist who
will stomp anyone who comes within two hundred yards of the safe house.”
He laughed at her description.
“What’s so funny?”
“Taryn is five-two and about as far from buff as you are. She’s
not going to stomp on anyone, but she is a crack shot and a judo expert. She can
take down a man twice her size if she has to.”
“I still don’t think we should be going off to the coast
together.”
“We’re going to a safe house together. To keep you safe. That’s
the goal. Nothing else.”
“I still—”
“Don’t like it. Yeah. I got that part. What I don’t get is why
you’re so afraid.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“And now you’re lying.”
“I’m not...” She sighed. “Okay. I am. You’re something special,
Darius, and I’m just...me. Hurt and hard and not ready for anything but a little
peace.”
“I’m not asking anything of you.”
“That’s the problem. If you were, it would be easy to deny you,
but you never ask anything. You’re just...there, and I need you to be, and that
scares me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with needing someone else.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“I loved Peter. He was everything to me, because I let him be
everything. He filled up an empty place in my heart and made me feel like I
mattered. I thought he felt the same way about me, but it was all just a lie. As
soon as things got tough, he turned his back on me.”
He’d done more than that.
He’d betrayed her. Darius had seen the newspaper articles, read
the quotes. Peter had thrown Catherine to the wolves, and he’d basked in the
attention while he did it.
“He wasn’t worth your heartache, Catherine. He still
isn’t.”
“I know that.”
“Then, maybe what you need to learn is that he’s not worth
giving up your dreams for.”
“I haven’t.”
“Sure you have. You’ve been hurt, and you’re afraid you’re
going to be hurt again. You’d rather be safe than risk being sorry.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“There is if you miss out on something great because of
it.”
She didn’t respond, just stared out the side window again, her
red hair touching the collar of her dress, her neck slim and elegant, her
shoulders slumped.
She looked done-in and defeated, but he knew different. She was
a fighter, and she’d fight hard for whatever she believed in. Hopefully, one day
soon, she’d believe in them.
He reached for her hand, and she curled her fingers through
his, squeezing gently. Her palm was rough and callused from the work she’d done
on the old farmhouse. He ran his thumb over the pad, felt her shiver in
response.
Neither spoke, but they stayed connected as the miles and hours
passed and they put Pine Bluff farther and farther behind them.
FIFTEEN
T
he farmhouse stood
gleaming in the sunlight, the old roof new, the old siding replaced. The
brown, dead lawn had grown lush and green, the shrubs vibrant with new
growth. Everything looked fresh and new and alive, and Catherine inhaled the
sweet scent of honeysuckle and spring.
A porch swing creaked in the wind as she
walked up to the front door and opened it. Inside, hardwood gleamed and soft
yellow paint warmed the foyer.
Everything fresh and lovely.
She inhaled deeply and reached to touch
the thick wooden banister. Footsteps tapped on the floor above her head, a
floorboard groaning beneath someone’s weight.
“Eileen?” she called, but it couldn’t be
Eileen. Not ever again. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she wanted to
wipe them away, but her arms were too heavy to lift.
“Murderer!” The whispered word chilled her
to the bone, and she backed away from the stairs, tears still dripping down
her face, afraid to turn away from whoever was coming.
Suddenly, he was there, face covered in a
dark mask.
Go!
Her mind screamed, and she whirled to
run, but the floor had turned to mud, and her feet wouldn’t move. She
screamed. Screamed again as he grabbed her arm and shook it.
“Catherine! Snap out of it!”
The command broke through the nightmare, tore her from terror
into bright sunlight and reality. She blinked, trying to clear tear-blurry
vision, and looked straight into Darius’s eyes.
She could see every fleck of color, see the dark stubble on his
jaw, the faint scar above his brow. Her hand lifted of its own volition, her
fingers tracing that faint line as if Darius were part of the dreamworld her
mind had created. As if he were more than her neighbor, more than a friend, more
than a man she’d met just a week ago.
He felt like more.
So much more.
When she was with him, she felt like she was exactly where she
belonged. Her fingers, her mind-of-their-own fingers, found their way from his
scar to his jaw, and, then, to the soft hair at his nape.
He captured her hand, kissed her knuckles. “Don’t start
something you can’t finish, Catherine,” he said, quietly, his words splashing
over her like ice water, even as the heat of his lips shot through her.
Not part of the dream.
Reality.
She tugged her hand away.
“Where are we?” she asked, her voice rough and raw, her cheeks
sticky from tears. She brushed at them, her hands trembling from the aftermath
of the nightmare and from emotions that simmered deep in her belly.
“A little diner on the Oregon border. Tango thought it was time
to eat. Since you were sleeping, I told him to go ahead. He’s getting things to
go. He’ll be out soon.” His voice was gruff, his gaze hot, and Catherine sank
into that place again. That dreamy world where only they existed, and nothing
mattered but the connection that was growing between them.
She shifted away, staring out the window at a brick wall. He’d
parked so close to the building, she couldn’t have opened her door if she wanted
to, and she turned again, tried to look past him to the nearly full parking lot
beyond.
Only, looking past Darius was impossible. When he was around,
he was all she saw, all she felt, all she wanted. She’d always believed that
things happened for a reason. Though her faith had floundered, she’d never
doubted God’s existence. She’d only doubted that He cared for her, wanted the
best for her life. Through every long prison day, she’d wondered what she’d done
to deserve the life He’d given her. She’d questioned His love, because she
hadn’t felt it.
Lately, she’d begun to see the bigger picture.
Life wasn’t about one moment or two. It was about every moment,
every breath, every step. And Catherine’s moments and breaths and steps had
brought her to Darius. Not by accident. By some Master plan. She felt that even
as she questioned it.
At a time in her life when she’d needed someone, Darius had
arrived. No matter how much her mind shouted to be careful, her heart wanted to
believe what she saw when she looked into his eyes.
“You were crying in your sleep,” he said, his knuckles skimming
her still-damp cheeks, leaving fire in their wake.
“I was dreaming about the farmhouse. It was new and
beautiful.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.” He played with the ends of her
hair, his fingers brushing her neck, and her pulse jumped in response.
They were standing on dangerous ground, about to plunge over
the edge of a cliff, but she couldn’t make herself move away.
“It wasn’t at first. Then, I realized that Eileen wasn’t there,
and that she’d never be there again.” Her voice broke, the reality of the loss
still raw and hard.
“You were screaming, too.”
“She wasn’t there, but
he
was.” She
touched her neck. The bruises were almost gone, but she could still feel the
tightening grip, see the hatred in the dark blue eyes.
“He’s not going to ever hurt you again, Catherine. I’m going to
do everything in my power to make sure of that.” His hand slid beneath hers, his
palm lying against her cool skin, his touch so light and gentle that it stole
her breath.
“Why do you have to be so perfect, Darius?” she whispered,
looking into his eyes, trapped in his gaze and not sure she wanted to
escape.
“I’m not even close to perfect. I’m sure once you know me long
enough, you’ll be happy to agree.” He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating
through her, warming the cold places in her heart, filling up the emptiness that
had been there for much too long.
“I could have died on the road near my house, but you came
running to the rescue, and you’ve been running to my rescue ever since.”
“I told you, I care. I’m going to keep running to rescue you
until you don’t need rescuing any longer.”
“I’ve never needed to be rescued. All I’ve needed is...” Her
voice trailed off, because she couldn’t say the words that were on the tip of
her tongue.
“What?”
To be loved for who I am. To be cherished
and treated as if I matter.
“I never thought God cared about me, Darius, but He sent you
into my life, and I can’t help thinking that means something. Maybe, I’m not
such a lost cause. Maybe, He does have a plan for my life. Maybe, after all this
is over, I’ll finally have the peace and happiness I’ve been searching for my
whole life.”
“God’s love for us isn’t dependent on our circumstances.
Whether or not He cares can’t be determined by how easy our lives are.”
Coming from anyone else, the words would have been empty, but
coming from a man who’d nearly died, who’d fought back from a terrible injury,
who’d lost everything and then built something wonderful...
Coming from Darius, they meant everything.
Her heart pounded with the truth of what he’d said, and the
depth of what she felt for him.
She touched his wrist, felt his pulse thrumming quick and hard
beneath warm skin.
He leaned close, his palm still gentle on her neck, his eyes
dark with passion. One breath away. One small movement. Hers? His? It didn’t
matter. Nothing mattered but the silky warmth of his lips on hers. She felt
consumed, undone. Every nerve, every cell cried out for more. Her hands cupped
his shoulders, her fingers digging into taut hard muscles.
“Break it up, you two! We’ve still got a lot of ground to
cover.” A voice drifted into the moment, and someone rapped on the window.
Darius broke away, his breath uneven, his heart thundering.
He’d made a big mistake, crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed, but he
couldn’t regret it. This moment had been coming since the day they’d met, the
relationship they were building as inevitable as the tide. He’d never believed
that there was only one person that he could love. He’d always thought that
there were many women who could make him want to be better and stronger and more
faithful.
But there was only one Catherine, and he was pretty sure she
was it for him.
“Dude! Are you going to make me stand out here holding this
food all day?” Tango didn’t try to hide his annoyance, and Darius tore his gaze
away from Catherine.
“Patience is a virtue, Tango,” he said as he rolled down the
window.
“Of which I have none when I’m hungry. Here.” Tango shoved two
take-out containers into his hands. “You shouldn’t let yourself be distracted,
man. That’s a dangerous path.”
“No one followed us out of town, and we haven’t had a tail, but
your comment is duly noted,” he responded dryly. They’d been traveling for five
hours, taking side roads and country lanes, winding their way slowly toward the
destination with no sign of danger.
“We going to head out now? Or eat and then drive?”
“We have another six hours ahead of us, and Taryn is expecting
us before midnight. We’d better take off.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.”
“You’d rather stop?”
“I have another gig tomorrow morning, so it’s best that we keep
going, but I would rather stop. I like to enjoy my meals. Not shove them down,”
he grumbled, but smiled in Catherine’s direction. “I got you an extra serving of
fries. You’re not eating enough to keep a bird alive and all your bones are
showing.”
“How...flattering,” she said, her cheeks heating.
“Just calling it like I see it, ma’am. Let’s get this done.” He
climbed into his Jeep, signaled for Darius to pull out ahead.
“Eleven hours is a long time to drive to the coast, Darius. Is
that really where we’re going?” Catherine asked, her voice airy and light, the
breathless quality the only indication of what had passed between them.
If that was the way she wanted to play things, he was willing
to go along.
As certain as he was that they were safe, there was no
guarantee that they would always be. Tango’s warning had been timely, and he’d
do well to take it to heart. “We’re taking the less-traveled roads. It’s easier
to spot tails that way.”
“Do you actually think someone is trying to follow us?”
“No, but I’m not willing to take chances with your life. Open
the take-out container, will you? I want to see what Tango bought.”
“Hamburger and french fries.” She handed him the burger, and he
bit into it, his stomach rumbling in response. As far as vacations went, this
one hadn’t been restful. The projects on his house weren’t finished. His to-do
list was longer than ever. Ryder had suggested that he hand Catherine off to
Taryn and another operative, but Darius had refused. He’d made a promise to
Eileen, but it was more than that that kept him close to Catherine’s side.
Miles passed quickly, the landscape growing closer, the trees
thicker and more lush as farmland gave way to forest. Blue sky pressed against
distant mountains, the sun edging everything in a halo of golden light. Behind
them, the road was empty. Ahead, a few cars meandered along the winding
pavement. Everything easy and slow and uneventful. Just the way Darius wanted
it.
“Great,” Catherine muttered, brushing at her thigh. Mustard
stained the black fabric, and a napkin smeared it more. “I wish I’d had time to
pack a few things before we left. I could be wearing this dress for the next
month.”
“Hopefully, we’ll have you out of the safe house sooner than
that, but if we don’t, the place is stocked with everything you need.”
“I would have liked to at least bring the lockbox, photos,
Bible and teapot.”
“They’re under the seat.”
She reached down and grabbed the box. “I can’t believe you
thought of this.”
It was a small thing, but from the tone of her voice, he might
have just lassoed the moon for her. “I thought you’d want it. I also wanted to
make sure we had everything we needed to find Gerald Kensington.”
“There are probably hundreds of people with that name.”
“Maybe.”
“Even if there aren’t, I’m not sure I want to find the
man.”
“What are you afraid you’re going to find?”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“I’m not. Like I told you before, I’ve just had a lot on my
mind.”
“And like I’ve told you, you also have someone trying to kill
you. The police are at a dead end with their investigation. Maybe what’s in
there is the key.” He tapped the box, and she opened it, pulling out the
check.
“There’s a phone number and address, but it’s been nearly
thirty years.”
“It doesn’t hurt to try.”
Her silence filled the truck, her reluctance pulsing out in
waves.
“Do you want me to call?”
“I’ll do it.”
“When?”
“I guess you want me to say ‘now.’”
“Good guess.”
“And I guess there’s no reason for me to put it off.”
“Except?”
“Except that you’re right. I am afraid. I’ve always thought I
knew everything there was to know about my family. Eileen was open about my
parents’ deaths. She didn’t hide things, but she hid this, and I’m not sure I
want to know why.”
“Even if knowing could save your life?”
“I’ll make the call. I’m just...nervous.”
“Whatever you find out, it can’t change who you are or where
you’ve come from. You know that, right?” He touched her hand, and she turned it
so they were palm to palm, fingers linked.
“I know.” She pulled out her cell phone and dialed the number,
her heartbeat racing through the pulse point in her wrist. He slid his thumb
over it, and she jerked, but didn’t pull her hand away.
“May I speak to Gerald Kensington?” she asked. “My name is
Catherine Miller. I think he may have known my mother, Jessica Lamont, and I had
a few questions that I wanted to ask him. Yes. I’d appreciate that. Thank you.”
She offered her phone number and hung up, her hand shaking as she shoved the
phone into her purse.