Everything But The Truth (6 page)

She decided to do the same.

So, she wasn’t wearing any underwear? Big deal. What did it matter? She was covered. Forget about it.

But for some reason she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Slouching in her chair so that her breasts would be hidden under the table, she hoped he wouldn’t notice how self conscious she felt.

“What’s your real name?” he asked. “And don’t tell me it’s Pepper, because I don’t believe you.”

She supposed he’d find out sooner or later, especially if he talked to Detective Brozack again. He’d also find out she’d lied to him about her occupation and about why she was on the run and from whom, but she didn’t give a hoot about that right now. “It’s Peyton,” she said. “Peyton Delaney.”

He nodded, his expression void of all emotion.
Didn’t the man know how to smile?

“Are we the only ones around here?” she asked, trying to get her mind off her wet T-shirt, her real identity, and Mr. Personality.

“No. This morning I saw two other cars parked further down the road. During the week, the cabins probably don’t get much use, but by the weekend, there’ll be plenty of people around.” He took a drink of his lemonade and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “We should probably think of a story in case we run into anyone.”

She hadn’t thought about that. “What kind of story?”

“You know, something other than you’re a hooker hiding from your pimp.”

“How do we know who we can trust? How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t,” he said with a straight face.

Shrugging, she said, “I’ve seen a lot of cop shows, and usually when there’s a man and a woman, they pretend to be a couple.” She didn’t necessarily like the idea, but she figured it couldn’t be helped. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because cop shows aren’t real life,” he said with a critical tone. “Here, you’ll do as I say.
I’m
in charge. Don’t go thinking you can outsmart these guys just because you’ve watched a few television shows. That’s a good way to get yourself, and me, killed.”

His words punctuated the air, bringing back the memory of Father Mike lying on the floor. She swallowed back a lump in her throat. “Fine,” she conceded. “What’s
your
suggestion?”

“I don’t know yet, but when I decide I’ll let you know.”

The man definitely had an ego problem, she thought, quickly finishing her sandwich. Not wanting to spend any more time under his scrutiny than she had to, she got to her feet and took her plate and glass to the sink. He followed.

“While we’re here,” he said, handing her his plate and glass, “I’ll be in charge of meals, and you can do the dishes.” He was suddenly too close to her. So close she could smell his clean, soapy scent.

Angling her body to face him more fully, she asked, “What have you got against me?”

His gaze traveled lazily and seductively from her face to her bare feet and back again. She hadn’t missed the way his gaze had lingered on her breasts. “Nothing,” he said finally.

A chill ran up her spine, and her spirits sank even lower. She despised him, and she was angry with herself for admitting it. She’d always been proud of the fact that she didn’t take people at face value. She always gave everyone a chance, no matter how badly she wanted to dislike them. Find the good in them, she’d tell herself. Everyone has something likeable about them.

Well, maybe Reeve Sinclair was the exception to the rule, she thought, turning on the faucet.

“Yoo-hoo,” a female voice called out.

Peyton and Reeve turned around simultaneously. A man and a woman stood on the deck, peering at them through the screen door.

“I hope we’re not interrupting anything. I’m Stacy and this is my husband Jared.”

“Great,” Reeve grumbled, turning off the water. “I’ll handle this.”

Peyton wiped her hands on a dishtowel, then hurried along behind him. They’d been so busy bickering, they hadn’t come up with a story yet. She’d thought pretending to be a couple was a pretty good idea, but he obviously had something more creative in mind. She couldn’t wait to hear.

The first thing she noticed about their neighbors was that Stacy was pregnant. Very pregnant. She wore a hot pink T-shirt with the words “Baby Garage” embroidered across the front. Her ash blond curls were windblown, and her bright blue eyes were round with curiosity as she smiled at them through the screen. “We brought you some chocolate chip cookies,” she said, lifting a foil covered plate, which was resting on her belly.

“Thank you. That’s so sweet,” Peyton said, pushing past Reeve to open the screen door. “Come in.” Catching his look of warning, she ignored him. She couldn’t let them stand outside. That would be rude. Besides, they’d brought cookies; chocolate chip, her favorite.

Maybe she shouldn’t be so trusting, she thought, remembering that one of the cops she’d thought was so nice had obviously sold her out. But this woman was pregnant, not a killer. And besides, she’d already put her life in Reeve Sinclair’s hands.

Stacy came through the door, followed by her husband. He had a stocky build with kind gray eyes and a buzz cut. Holding out his hand to Reeve, he said. “Jared Lutz. We saw you come in last night, but didn’t want to bother you.”

“Reeve Sinclair,” he said, taking the man’s hand, and not bothering to introduce Peyton.

Reeve was rude, overbearing, and basically not a people person. Maybe that was why he was no longer a cop. When both Stacy and Jared turned and looked at Peyton expectantly, she had no choice but to introduce herself.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m Peyton. Peyton Sinclair.” Ignoring Reeve’s look, she went on. “Reeve and I eloped yesterday.”

****

Eloped?
Where the hell had she come up with that?
Reeve had told her he would handle this, but she’d ignored him. It figured. Damned fool woman. She couldn’t even manage to follow a few simple rules.

“Eloped?” Stacy squealed, bringing her hands to her cheeks. “That’s so romantic.” Her eyes lit up and she turned to look at her husband. “Isn’t it, Jared?”

“Yeah, I guess,” he said, shrugging one beefy shoulder.

Jared didn’t seem any more excited than Reeve had, hearing the news.

“Why don’t you come sit down?” Peyton said. “I’ll get us some lemonade and we can try your cookies.”

The Lutzs followed her to the kitchen. Reeve deliberately lagged behind, shaking his head, still trying to get used to the idea that they had supposedly eloped.
What the hell was she trying to prove?

By the time he stepped onto the faded, gray linoleum, his new “bride” was already filling four glasses with lemonade.

“We’d love for you guys to come to dinner tonight,” Stacy said, pulling out a chair. But instead of sitting, she froze.

Reeve noticed her eyes widen with alarm when she spotted the Glock on the table.
Damn
. That was certainly careless of him. He hadn’t bothered to grab it when the Lutzs came to the screen door unannounced, because he hadn’t expected Peyton to invite them inside. Last night he’d seen the couple, walking hand in hand down the dirt lane, and they’d seemed harmless enough. Nonchalantly, he picked up the 9mm and turned it over in his hand. “It almost looks real, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Stacy answered, her eyes studying the gun with a curious intensity. When she finally relaxed her shoulders and smiled, he placed it in a kitchen drawer.

“It’s nothing fancy,” Jared said, picking up the conversation and dropping into a chair. “Just hamburgers and hot dogs.”

“That sounds like fun. We’d love to,” Peyton accepted without bothering to so much as glance Reeve’s way.

Reeve resisted the urge to roll his eyes and sigh. She seemed to have forgotten why they were here, and it sure as hell wasn’t so they could party with the neighbors.

“So, tell us why you guys eloped,” Stacy said, her eyes shifting back and forth with anticipation.

Before Reeve could open his mouth, Peyton said, “My parents don’t like Reeve, so we thought it best to skip the big wedding and just run away.”

Jesus.
“Peyton? Can I see you for a minute?” He headed toward the front door and waited for her to join him.

From the kitchen, he heard her tell their guests, “I’ll just be a moment.”

“Oh, dear.” This from Stacy. “You guys are on your honeymoon, and we’re probably intruding.”

“Don’t be silly,” Peyton said. “To tell you the truth, we were getting kind of tired of each other. You two are like a breath of fresh air.”

This time Reeve rolled his eyes just as she came up behind him.

“Darling, did you want to see me?” Her voice was as thick and syrupy as molasses.

“Yes,
honey
, I did.” Hooking his arm in hers, he herded her out the front door and around the side of the cabin. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked, disengaging himself from her.

“What do you mean?”

He knew her wide-eyed innocence was merely a smoke screen. “I mean, we’re not playing house here. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“I
am
safe.”

He stared at her, dumbfounded. “You don’t even know these people, and you’re treating them as if they’re old friends.”

“They seem nice. What can it possibly hurt if we have dinner with them? Besides, it will help keep my mind off everything that’s happened.”

He was about to comment, when her eyes grew huge with alarm.

“Oh, no!” she said, bringing a hand to her mouth.

“What?” he asked in a rush, searching her face. “What is it?”

“We need to take a dish.”

His mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not kidding. Jared said they’re having burgers and hot dogs. Maybe I could make some potato salad or coleslaw. What do you think?”

He shook his head in amazement.

“Never mind,” she said. “We’ll figure it out later. Right now, we need to get back inside, or they’ll think we’re rude.” With that, she turned and headed for the front of the cabin.

“Wait a minute!”

“We’ll have to talk later,” she said over her shoulder, leaving him no choice but to follow.

So much for being in charge, he thought, swearing under his breath. He tried not to watch her round bottom in those tight jeans shorts as she made her way onto the deck and into the cabin, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

Spotting Peyton’s bra and panties hanging to dry on the deck rail, he frowned. Plain white cotton. Not at all what he’d expected. When had hookers started wearing underwear designed for nuns?

Chapter Six

Sonny Donatelli paced the floor of the warehouse office while he waited for Nick and Frank to show. They were three minutes late, and Sonny didn’t like it when his guys were late. It was a sign of disrespect.

He slapped his hand down hard on the desk and swore. Where were those idiots? He’d told them six o’clock, the damn morons. Couldn’t they tell time?

Puffing on his cigar, he resumed his pacing. He pulled a monogrammed handkerchief from the breast pocket of his jacket and wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. Just then he heard a car horn. They were here.
Finally.
Antonio would let them in.

When Nick and Frank came rushing into the office, Sonny pinned one, then the other with his eyes, letting them know he wasn’t at all pleased. “Where the hell have you two been?”

“We’re sorry, Mr. Donatelli,” Nick said, straightening his tie and shifting his jaw and neck. “Traffic was something else.”

“You’d better have good news,” Sonny threatened, tapping his cigar and watching the ashes fall to the concrete floor. Looking up, he studied both men, noticing them squirm. It figured. They hadn’t found her.

“The broad couldn’t have just disappeared into thin air!” he shouted, throwing his arms out for emphasis. “I want her found!”

Both Nick and Frank flinched at the booming sound of his voice. “Yes, sir,” they said in unison.

Stupid morons.
“What about the detective?” he asked, meaning the one Frank had shot in the hotel parking garage while trying to kill the woman.

Matthew Brozack. The guy was so squeaky clean it made Sonny sick.

“He’s being released from the hospital tomorrow,” Frank said, playing with his mustache. “He’s gonna be okay.”

Sonny shook his head. “That’s not what I meant, you idiot.” Frank’s eyes widened with fear. “Get rid of that thing,” he said, pointing a finger at Frank’s mustache. “It looks like a damn muskrat attached to your upper lip.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll bet you ten to one Brozack knows where the Delaney broad is. Who’s he been talking to?”

“The only ones to visit the hospital have been his wife and kids, a few cops, and the guy’s grandfather.” Frank snorted. “The old guy looks like he’s at least ninety.”

“Forget the wife and kids. Brozack’s not going to involve them in something like this. Which cops visited him?”

Sonny listened while Frank rattled off three names. He’d never heard of the first two, but the third one, Bill Jameson, was on his payroll. He smiled. “Pay Jameson a visit. Find out what he knows. You got that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

They turned to walk away. Then stopping in the doorway, Nick pivoted back around. “What about the old man?”

“What about him?” Sonny asked, shrugging his shoulder. “You said he was ninety years old. You think Brozack would ask a man with one foot in the grave to watch a witness for him?” He waved a hand to dismiss him. “Talk to Jameson.”

Nick wavered a moment, scratching at his bald head, his gold link bracelets rattling.

“You got something to say, Nick?” Sonny shifted his weight from one leg to the other while he waited for Nick to speak.

“It’s just that…”

“What? You think I don’t have nothing better to do than stand around here all night? Spit it out, for chrissakes.”

Nick dropped his hands to his sides and straightened his shoulders. “It’s just that Frankie and me followed the old man yesterday.”

“And?”
Sonny prompted impatiently.

“And the guy went to the grocery store right after he left the hospital.”

“So, the old man’s gotta eat. So, what?”

“Well, he bought a ton of groceries and then he drove out of town and up to a cabin near the Catskills.”

Sonny blew out several smoke rings while keeping his gaze on Nick. “And?” he asked again.
The damn moron. Why couldn’t he get to the point?

Nick shrugged. “Nothing. Me and Frankie hung around and watched the place for an hour, then we left.”

After contemplating Nick’s words, Sonny said, “Talk to Jameson. I want that broad, dead or alive.”

****

“You can’t wear those shoes,” Reeve said, pointing to the red high heels.

Peyton glanced down at her feet and shrugged. “Why can’t I? Besides, what choice do I have?”

He looked at her and rolled his eyes.

“I’m not trying to make a fashion statement,” she said.
Especially not while wearing skimpy jeans shorts
. “And it’s not as if Stacy and Jared are going to care what I wear on my feet.” The Lutzs were the down-to-earth types. Peyton really liked them a lot and was looking forward to the cook-out. “Do you want to grab the potato salad?”

Reeve opened the refrigerator and pulled out the Tupperware bowl. “Got it.”

Earlier he’d said he didn’t want to go to dinner at the Lutz’s, but reluctantly gave in when Peyton announced she was going with, or without, him.

Releasing a long breath, she rested her hip against the kitchen table. “Do you think we could call a truce for just one evening?”

“I hadn’t realized we were fighting.”

She swallowed back a laugh. “That’s all we’ve done since we met. It would really mean a lot to me to be able to pretend, for just a little while, that there aren’t men out there who want to kill me.”

Besides, she didn’t want to spend the evening alone with Reeve. She’d go crazy, for sure. Not that she planned to mention the last reason.

“Well, then, I’ll be sure to be on my best behavior.”

Although his vexation was evident, she ignored it. “Thank you. I’d appreciate it.”

“As long as you promise not to make up anymore stupid stories.”

“Stupid stories?” she asked, scrunching her brow.

“Yes, like telling the Lutzs we eloped.”

“Did you have a better idea?”

“You never gave me a chance,” he said stubbornly, thrusting his chin forward.

If he’d thought of a better idea, he would have used it. Her fast thinking had worked, and that was what he was probably peeved about, because he hadn’t thought of the idea first.

“Fine,” she agreed hesitantly. “I’ll follow your lead from now on.”

Grabbing her red canvas bag from the counter, she headed toward the screen door and opened it. “Should we lock it?” she asked over her shoulder.

Reeve shook his head, coming up behind her. “I wouldn’t bother. This place isn’t real secure. Anyone who wants to get in here can.”

Suddenly, fear slipped back to grip her insides. Her eyes widened, but before she had a chance to say anything, he touched her shoulder gently and said, “Relax, you’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

It was the touch that had her believing him, trusting him. The mere caress of his fingers through the thin cotton of her T-shirt sent a warming shiver through her, and her body tingled from the contact.

Quickly, she pushed out the door and onto the deck, wanting to distance herself. It would do her good to remember she didn’t like Reeve Sinclair. And she knew, with certainty, the feeling was mutual.

Just because he’d promised to behave himself this evening didn’t mean they were friends, or anything even close. They especially didn’t act like newlyweds, although neither Stacy nor Jared had seemed to notice earlier that day.

She’d never realized how hard it was to fake her feelings. While the Lutzs were there, she’d tried to pretend she liked Reeve. He’d made it so darn difficult with the way he’d continually scowled at practically everything she’d said, that she’d finally given up trying. As the saying went, you can’t mix oil and water.

On the walk to the Lutz’s, she thought about the men she’d dated over the years. There was only one she’d been serious about. David Wilkins, Amy’s older brother.

But after Amy had died, he and his mother, having the need to blame someone, had chosen Peyton. They seemed to think she could have done more to help the girl. To stop her from running away, using drugs and turning to prostitution. To prevent her from having her life snuffed out at such a young age.

Peyton found herself, more often than not, wondering the same things. She couldn’t save Amy, but she could save other young girls. Which was one of the reasons she was counseling girls like Jane.

She’d been so involved in her work the past year, she’d neglected her personal life, and she’d undoubtedly forgotten how to act around a man. She hadn’t been out on a date since she’d left Iowa, which was probably the reason she’d reacted so strangely to Reeve’s touch. What else could it have been?

When she and David had ended their relationship, she’d lost a part of herself, her dreams of marriage and children cast aside. Lost in her thoughts, and not watching where she walked, she stumbled on a tree root. Her ankle turned and she winced.

Reeve’s arm shot out to steady her, his hand firmly gripping her upper arm. “You okay?” he asked, searching her face. He stood close enough that she could see the tiny laugh lines around his mouth.

Meeting his eyes, she said, “Yes. I wasn’t paying attention.”

He continued to hold her by the arm for a moment longer while he gazed into her eyes. A vague, sensuous light passed between them before he finally released her. Or had she imagined it? Either way, there was no denying the tingles his touch had left behind this time.

Wanting to escape his penetrating gaze, she hurriedly turned away from him and began walking at a much faster pace, her legs wobbling and fighting for balance in the ridiculously high shoes. Although her ankle still throbbed, she refused to give in to the pain.

“You don’t seem to have had much experience,” Reeve said behind her back.

She spun around, confused. “Excuse me?”

Nodding at her feet, he said, “With the shoes. I thought all hook—” He stopped mid sentence. “I thought working women wore heels like that every day.”

“They do. I mean,
we
do.” Knowing he was waiting for her to expand on her answer, she said, “But you’re right. I don’t have much experience. I’m sort of new at it.
All
of it.” With that, she resumed walking, Reeve at her side. That was as much as he was going to get out of her, she decided.

Noticing a patch of wild daisies, she stopped walking and bent over to sniff at them. “I love daisies. Did you know that some people swear that daisies don’t have a scent? But they do, you know? It’s subtle, but it’s there. Just a faint, fresh smell.” Smiling she said, “It’s probably where the phrase ‘Fresh as a daisy’ came from.”

He obviously didn’t see any humor in it, she decided, noticing the look on his face. Just then a butterfly crossed their path, flickering its bright, colorful wings as it danced in the light evening breeze. She smiled again, admiring the creature.

“Look how delicate she is, and graceful, and beautiful. When I was a little girl, I always wanted to be a butterfly,” she said, thinking of her childhood with fond memories. She looked up and found Reeve watching her again. Realizing she must sound silly, she shrugged and started walking again.