Love Inspired Suspense June 2014 Bundle 2 of 2: Forced Alliance\Out for Justice\No Place to Run (13 page)

FIFTEEN

“M
y apartment is off the beaten path and I have good security. The FBI knows where I live, but they tend to stay away from here. The only reason I haven't been back here is because we've been forced to stay on the move since I first called you. Time for a break from the bad guys.”

Connor had tried every tactic to get Josie to talk, but she wasn't in the mood for conversation. She kept jotting notes on her phone notepad. And ignoring him.

He'd had to do some tall talking back at her place to get Sherwood to let her come with him.

The SAC had a whole team moving through Josie's ransacked apartment. “She's my agent, Randall. And all this running around on your own ends right now. You're chasing shadows and that's all you know. Agent Gilbert knows how to do her job with or without you.”

Connor had never liked Sherwood, but he ignored that dig and concentrated on persuading the man. “Look, sir, with all due respect, we did manage to hand over three members of the Armond family to you. If you give us another chance, I think we can figure this out.”

“We're running out of chances,” Sherwood retorted. “I've let you get away with a lot, Randall. It's time to finish this.”

“You have Armond,” Connor replied. “Maybe if Josie and I talk to him—”

“He's not talking,” Sherwood retorted, his face lined with a gray weariness. “He's still not out of the woods. He got through surgery but he's an old man. He can't have a lot of visitors. Besides, I've questioned him, and he's not giving us anything that we don't already know.”

Connor didn't believe that. “I could persuade him—”

“I said no. Stay away from Armond. You'll bring the killers right to his hospital room.”

Connor finally gave up on that, but he wouldn't give up on protecting Josie. “Josie needs to stay hidden, too. With me.”

Sherwood's scowl shouted
NO.
“Gilbert needs to get back to the office first thing next week and you need to remember I'm watching you.”

“And what about Josie, sir? Who's watching out for her?”

Sherwood hadn't liked that question. “Maybe I should separate you two so she can get on with her job.”

“Not tonight, not after the past few days,” Connor had replied. “She's not staying here in this apartment and she's sure not staying alone anywhere in this city. She'll be with me for the weekend at least.”

“If anything happens to her, it's on you,” Sherwood had retorted.

It's on me.

Sometimes, Connor felt as if it was all on him.

He glanced back over at Josie. She was mad and frustrated and she'd put up a good fight, but she had gotten in the car with him. That was a good sign.

“I'm not worried about the bad guys,” she finally said. Shutting off her phone, she pushed at her hair and gave him a daring stare. “Right now, I'm only worried about one questionably good guy who forced me into this car.”

“Moi?”

“Oui,”
she replied, the one word more confident than the confusion in her eyes. “I agreed to come with you because I'm tired, Connor. Tired and determined to keep eyes on you.”

He said the words slowly. “You are safe with me. You can trust me. We've got two days. You can get some rest and rethink this whole thing.”

“Famous last words.”

He skirted Canal and took side streets in a zigzag pattern. “I don't think anyone is following us, but just in case.”

They'd found nothing to help them at her house. Just a destroyed apartment, which only proved someone was looking for something. A file or a thumb drive? A notebook or a stack of letters and receipts? What? What could it be?

And who?

Connor used to be the hunter, the one watching for routines and patterns and changes. Now he and Josie were being hunted. And for what? And where was Armond?

Josie stayed alert the whole trip, watching in the passenger-side mirror when she wasn't eyeballing him through a grumpy glare.

“My clothes are ruined again,” she said, staring down at the jacket and slacks she'd been wearing all night and most of the day.

“I have clothes.”

“Of course you do.”

“Deidre left some things in my apartment last time she was stateside.”

“Just to test your
no more secrets
theory, tell me about Deidre?”

Connor smiled at that, but he didn't mind the interrogation. Josie never just asked a question. She was still looking for answers. “My sister is cute but bookish, smart but shy, lovable but reserved. She could be a real beauty if she'd let anyone near enough to get her new glasses and a new wardrobe. I love her, but she hasn't always loved me.”

“But she's your half sister, right?”

He nodded, memories of growing up with his sweet little sister always centered in his mind. “And like me, she never knew who her father was.” He shrugged. “Our mother was unconventional at best. She never needed a man except for the occasional companion. She didn't believe in God or Jesus. She only believed in herself. Thought she could conquer the world.” He downshifted when they reached a crumbling parking garage. “But in the end, the world conquered her.”

“I'm sorry,” Josie said, “about you and Deidre not having fathers, about how your mother died. I can see why you became so desperate after you realized she was bankrupt.”

“I was never desperate,” he corrected, his rage always simmering just below the truth. Her curt question brought it all back. She couldn't trick him into any kind of confession, though. “But I was hungry and afraid, and I wanted to feed my sister. We lost everything after our mother was killed.”

He pulled the purring car up onto a ramp, then rolled down the window to hit a button. The ramp lifted them up four floors with an elevator-like precision and stopped in front of another elevator.

Killing the engine, he turned to Josie. “They wanted to take Deidre away, since she was underage. I had just turned eighteen, but she was only fourteen. I took her with me and I made sure she was with people I could trust before I left her. I came to America because I had ties here in New Orleans, through my mother. I camped out in this building and did what I had to do to survive. I'm not proud of some of the things I did, but as long as Deidre...and God...have forgiven me, I can live with that.”

“Maybe you should forgive yourself,” Josie said, her tone quiet and accepting now.

Connor didn't want to talk about forgiveness. “I've been working on that one for years.”

He opened the car door to get out, then noticed the gold coin dangling on a chain around the rearview mirror. In all the fuss, he'd forgotten about it. Grabbing it, Connor decided he would indulge in studying the necklace later.

“I've always had a thing for old coins,” he explained when Josie gave him a questioning look.

“You stole the car. Might as well take the coin, too.”

“I didn't steal the car. I borrowed it. Armond will understand.”

“Really? The man who wants you dead but can't make up his mind to whack you? That man will understand?”

“He has a heart underneath all that...illegal stuff,” Connor admitted. “At least, I think so.”

“Right.”

She obviously still didn't believe anything he or Armond had to say.

Connor put the long chain around his neck and tucked it inside his shirt. He came around the car and was about to open her door, but Josie beat him to that and got out to glance around. “This place is a dump.”

“That's right. My dump.”

He guided her toward the old industrial elevator. “Your next ride is waiting, m'lady.”

* * *

Josie wondered what to expect, but then Connor had taken her to some strange places over the past few days. She couldn't blame him for someone deciding to tear apart the home she'd set up just a few weeks ago. She traveled light and that stuff could be replaced.

Connor's holding back on her tore at her and worried her. Sherwood thought they'd been taken down a merry road to nowhere and maybe they had. But she'd brought him Armond and family. And she was bone tired with this whole case. She wouldn't rest until she'd cracked the whole thing.

She needed to talk to Louis Armond. She didn't trust anyone else to tell her what he could.

And she wouldn't let Sherwood or Connor hold her back on that decision. She'd have to find the right time, then she'd have to find the right hospital. But she would find Armond.

“Hungry?”

She glanced over at Connor as they rode up the rickety old elevator. “No.”

Wishing for some of Mama Joe's biscuits, she held on and took a deep breath. “So I love what you've done with the place.”

Connor laughed and touched a hand to her frazzled, smoke-scented hair. “You need a bath, Special Agent Gilbert.”

“You sure know how to make a girl feel lovely, Randall.”

“Part of my speciality.”

His eyes promised more, but Josie decided going back to an all-business stance had to be the best plan. “So we need to consider that we might not ever find anything on Armond's silent partner. The house has been wiped clean, either by several different law-enforcement agencies or...someone else. The garage is toast and we really didn't get to do a very thorough search.”

“I'm thinking after seeing your place your supervisor will send a forensic team back out there to make sure we didn't miss anything. At least now he believes we're both still in danger. Which is why we have to stay away from Armond Gardens.”

“You really don't like Sherwood, do you?”

He gave her a blank stare. “No, I don't.”

She needed to remember that he probably didn't trust anyone in the FBI, especially her. That worked both ways. But they were in this together now, and Sherwood would expect her to do her job.

Even if that meant betraying the man standing in front of her. The man she was so angry with right now, but to whom she was still so very attracted.

* * *

An hour later Josie emerged from the guest-room bath and threw on the clothes Connor had handed her earlier. He'd picked a soft blue cardigan, a light blue button-up shirt and a pair of worn jeans that held a hint of lavender. The jeans were about an inch too short, so Josie rolled them up to capri length and decided that would do.

When she picked up the expensive shirt, her heart slammed to her feet. She knew this scent. This shirt didn't belong to Deidre. It belonged to her big brother. Putting the cotton garment to her nose, Josie inhaled Connor's aftershave, silly tears pricking her eyes and making her throat grow tight.

She wouldn't let him get to her. Looking down at the cut on her palm, she remembered how gentle he'd been with her earlier.

The little gestures got to her more than any grand gesture ever would. She slipped on the too-big shirt and buttoned it, feeling safe and comfortable surrounded by something of his.

But he's lying to you, Josie. You have to see that. He's lying and he's covering for Armond
.

Why?

Why couldn't she believe him?

Closing her eyes to that admission, she tugged on the lightweight sweater and then rolled up the shirt's sleeves.

Then she told herself to stop being so mushy and get back to business. Connor's new revelation about another possible Armond son was ridiculous, but...he had been around Armond more than she had. His instincts were good on such matters, too.

In spite of everything, she wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe in him, too.

After she dressed, she took her time studying Connor's home. Eclectic and sterile. Edited and minimalist. Artsy and comfortable. The old industrial building held a hint of steam-punk mixed with a futuristic vibe.

A lot like Connor. Old-fashioned and gentlemanly, but edgy and hip, too. The man knew his art. Twisted metal sculptures merged with watercolor still-life scenes and spiritual Impressionist paintings. The chunky wooden bed in this room looked antique, but the stark red-and-gold painting of a lone jester who was not smiling showed the paradox of Connor's life.

That painting made her heart bump against her chest in a sympathetic tone that both thrilled her and annoyed her. When she saw an antique Bible on the Rococo-style dresser, she opened it and saw marked pages. Connor? Or maybe Deidre?

Thankfully, his sister's influence had turned him back to the Lord. Josie closed her eyes in prayer for both of them and for herself, her fingers touching on the always-comforting passages of the Psalms.

She didn't want to want this man in her life but after being around him 24/7 for the past few days, Josie knew she'd feel like that sad-faced jester if she lost Connor now. Befriend and betray. Was that what they were doing to each other? That was what her job required.

After drying her hair, Josie slid open the heavy metal bedroom door and walked back out into the open-air loft. Apparently Connor's bedroom was up on the top tier of this interesting place. He'd gone up there to get his own shower and change of clothing.

She pushed at her hair and took in the dark leather couches and worn tapestry patterned armchairs, the shelves of books and the walls of artifacts and paintings. The kitchen beckoned with a gleaming industrial shine, so she headed that way and opened the refrigerator to find boiled shrimp resting on ice.

When had he ordered in?

Josie didn't question this gift. She was starving, so she took out the big bowl and grabbed a couple of the fat, juicy shrimp and dipped them in the thick red cocktail sauce. They tasted fresh and spicy. When she heard him coming down the metal stairs, she turned and smiled and gulped in a breath.

He was barefoot and in jeans and a faded T-shirt.

A different kind of Connor.

“I found food,” she said, nervous now that they were alone. Which was silly, since they'd been traveling around alone for days now. “I don't know how this got here, but I'm glad it did.”