Wise Moves (7 page)

Not a day went by that she didn’t think of Nancy. She thought about the policewoman’s family. Wondered if she’d left children and family behind.

“You all right?” Dane’s voice sliced through her grief.

She swallowed unshed tears and lifted her chin. Sloppy emotion wasn’t going to bring anyone back. “Yes, I’m fine.” She sniffed and managed the bright smile she used when her brother expected her to be happy. “My goodness, how did we get on such dark topics?”

He turned back to his work. “The darkness is in all of us. And sometimes it slips out when we least expect it.”

The smile faded. “I feel surrounded by darkness. And it’s only the light that breaks through on occasion for me.”

Dane ripped the last of the wire out and started to wind it around his arm. “What do you say we have dinner tonight?”

The sudden shift threw her off balance. “Dinner? What brought that on?”

“Maybe we should let a little light in through the dark. It would do us both good to have a little fun.”

His offer tempted far too much. But she’d already proven that she had a weakness for him. “I don’t think so.”

Dane lifted a brow. The sadness had vanished and in its place was challenge. “You got something better going on with that boyfriend of yours?”

“No, Mark is working again tonight. I promised Sheridan I’d wash the wool yoga blankets.”

“So you’d prefer wet blankets over me?”

A smile tipped the edge of her lips. “You make it sound awful. I didn’t mean it that way.”

Amusement danced in his eyes. “I’ve been ditched before, but never for wet blankets.”

The sadness squeezing her heart lifted. “Fine. I’ll have dinner with you.”

He shook his head, feigning irritation. “Hey, don’t do me any favors, lady. I am not that hard up for a night out.”

Dane’s southern accent deepened, softening his words even more. She laughed. And Lord, but it felt good. “I’d like to have dinner with you.”

He nodded, clearly satisfied. “It’s a date.”

C
ambia finished his work for the day at the studio and drove to his motel room. Instead of getting out of the van, he sat very still for a moment. Tinted windows blocked what remained of the afternoon sun. He opened the disposable and untraceable cell phone he’d bought before he came to town. Instead of dialing, he hesitated. He dreaded what had to be done next.

The day with Kristen had gone well. There’d been no more kisses. In fact, she had been careful not to touch him. But she’d made him a lunch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and potato chips. She’d insisted on working if he was going to pay her so he’d given her small pieces of lumber to take to the Dumpster. She’d done the work without complaint and as the hours ticked by she’d grown more relaxed.

He was winning her trust.

And now he was going to betray her.

The idea bothered him. Far too much.

Dane flipped down his sun visor. Attached was a strip of pictures taken of Nancy and him a few years ago in one of those photo booths at the state fair. The pictures had been her idea and he’d only gone along begrudgingly. In the first shot they’d tried to be serious but by the last shot she was making a face and he was laughing.

He touched the strip of pictures. Nancy had come up to Montana and he’d convinced her to go to the fair. She dubbed it all back-country nonsense, but by the end of the night, after she’d ridden the Ferris wheel, eaten two cotton candies and won a stuffed dog at the balloon toss, she’d admitted they’d had a blast.

It was the last real fun they’d had together. They had sworn they’d get together soon. But
soon
had turned into months and years. Until finally, they’d run out of time.

He thought about that last cell phone call from the safe house. He thought about the moment he’d handed the folded flag at her funeral to her fiancé, a large hulking man who’d openly wept.

Anger flooded Dane’s body, recharging his resolve. For Nancy’s sake, he would stay the course.

He dialed the number of a bar called Maria’s down in Miami. The place was frequented by drug dealers and served as a makeshift message center. He’d been monitoring the place for quite some time.

The phone rang. On the fifth ring, he heard a gruff, “Maria’s.”

“Get me Ortiz,” Dane said. Manuel Ortiz was Benito’s eyes and ears in the bar. “I got news on the king’s sister.” The king was Benito.

Wariness mingled with anticipation. “What kind of news?”

“I only talk to Ortiz.” Ortiz would get word to Benito.

“Sure.” The phone on the other end thudded against the bar. Salsa music blared in the background.

“Who is this?” a new voice said.

“Doesn’t matter who it is.” He checked his watch.

“What’s this about the king’s sister?” Ortiz’s English was heavily accented.

Dane looked at the pictures of Nancy and him. His anger had gotten him this far and it would see him through until the end. “I’m making a booze run from Miami to New York when I stop in this small town in Virginia off I-81. While I’m drinking my coffee at a diner, I see a chick that looks like the king’s sister.”

Silence echoed on the other end of the line for a good ten seconds. In the background he heard the blend of percussion and drums playing.

Benito had promised five million to anyone who could find Elena.

“Don’t even joke, bro,” Ortiz said. “The king is a little crazed when it comes to his baby sister.”

“I’m not joking. She looks different. Her hair is short, dyed blond like Gwen Stefani, but the face is a dead ringer.”

“Why don’t you just tell the king yourself?” Ortiz said.

“Oh no, man. I stay away from him. I don’t want any part of his stuff. You pass on the good news.”

“You’re passing up a hell of a lot of money.”

“Just tell him Brinkman might need a favor one day.” Brinkman was an alias he’d used when he’d been undercover in Miami a couple of years ago.

“You sure it is her?”

“Yeah. She’s a hard woman to forget.”

“Thanks for the tip.” The line went dead.

Dane could almost picture the cockroach now, scrambling out of his hovel in the Miami club. He’d be on his way now to find the next rat in the chain to Benito, ready to trade his information for money or a favor down the road.

It would take a day or two for Ortiz’s information to work up through the chain of Benito’s command—the mobster trusted few, and every bit of information was screened before presented to Benito. But by the middle of the week, Benito would receive the news. And he would send his people to check out the story. And with luck, would follow shortly after that.

Kristen was in grave danger now.

Lucian was watching her house for the moment. But as savvy as the computer guy was, he was accustomed to working from the shadows. He’d never dealt with the likes of Benito and his men face-to-face.

No, Dane had put Kristen in direct danger and he would see to it she stayed safe.

He checked his watch. The sooner he got back to her the better.

K
risten was waiting in the front entryway for Cambia when she caught her reflection in the Plexiglas Yoga Studio sign that hung behind the reception desk. She ran her hand through her short hair. It still startled her and she wondered if she’d ever get to the point where she recognize herself in the mirror again

She frowned at the black roots. They were getting too long. She’d have to find a drugstore tomorrow and buy more hair dye.

She’d been so careful, and she didn’t want something as foolish as hair color to trip her up.

Her outfit was beyond simple: jeans, a white T-shirt and black sandals she’d bought at the Goodwill in North Carolina.

By all standards, she’d come down in the world. She had next to nothing and each day was an unknown. But in truth, she had never felt better. Benito was out of her life and the taste of freedom was so much sweeter than any expensive champagne Benito had paid for.

This was her life. All that she had, she’d earned. No one was paying doormen to get her to the front of the line. No one was feeding her compliments so they could get to her brother. This new life of hers wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but it was all hers and she was proud of it.

The rumble of Dane’s truck pulled her out of her thoughts. She checked her watch. Seven on the dot. Her stomach fluttered as she watched him climb out of the cab. He’d changed into a white collared shirt, worn khakis and his work boots. His hair was wet from a shower and he’d shaved. He moved round to the front of the truck, his swagger hinting at military service.

For the first time in months she wished she’d had a bit of perfume to dab between her ears and maybe a tube of lipstick to brighten her lips. So much had changed in her life, but the streak of vanity had not vanished.

She went outside. “Right on time,” she said. She smiled as she closed and locked the front door.

Even white teeth flashed. “I’m a stickler for time.”

She moved down the steps, savoring the way he looked at her. Many men had leered at her in her life and she’d ignored most. Since Carlos, only Dane’s intense gaze made her knees feel weak.

All day, she’d thought about when she’d kissed Dane. She’d chocked up the insanity of those kisses to loneliness and the need to feel connected to someone else. But now she knew she’d have been drawn to Dane even if she still had the legion of acquaintances and money she’d once had.

Dane Cambia stood out in a crowd.

“So where are we going?” he said, meeting her on the sidewalk. “You said there is a deli close by?”

“It’s called Winston’s. Sheridan told me about it. It’s very good.”

He squeezed her hand gently. “Then let’s go.”

When they reached the car, she hesitated and waited for him to open the door. He started around the front of the car until he saw her standing there. “Everything okay?”

Kristen realized her blunder.
Elena
would have expected a man to open her door but
Kristen
never would have. For nine months, she’d denied all things feminine. But since Dane had walked into her life, she’d been very aware that she was a woman.

Feeling a little foolish, she pretended to fix her shoe and then reached for the door handle. “My shoelace needed tying.”

“Right.” A smile lifted the edge of his lips. He didn’t believe her.

Kristen sat in the front seat, examining the interior, hoping for insight into the man. It was neat, organized. A large empty convenience-store coffee cup sat in the cup holder and there was an uneaten pack of Nabs tucked in the side pocket of his seat.

Without saying a word, he started the car and put it into Drive. Soon he was moving down the street. “Which way?”

“Take your first left.” She’d only been in town two weeks but she’d already learned the streets, a habit she’d developed since she’d been on the run. Always good to know the escape routes.

She directed him through two more turns and within minutes he’d pulled into the deli lot. This time she opened her door without hesitating and met him on his side of the car. Together they walked toward the front entrance, where he reached the door first and opened it for her. As she entered he pressed his hand into the small of her back. The protective gesture pleased her more than it should have.

The deli was filled with round blue tables surrounded by scuffed chairs. A large glass case filled with meats, cheeses, pickles and breads dominated the front of the room. Above the counter a chalk-drawn menu hung on the wall. In the corner an old-style jukebox played John Cougar Mellencamp’s “Jack and Diane.”

Kristen and Cambia each placed their orders and when they reached the register, she dug her money out of her pocket.

“This is on me,” Cambia said.

“No,” she said firmly. “I pay my own way.” It was another habit she’d developed since she’d been on the run. She didn’t want to be dependent on anyone, nor did she want to owe anyone anything.

He pulled out his worn leather wallet. “Kristen, I insist.”

She straightened out her ten-dollar bill. “As do I.”

She met the cashier’s gaze and pointed to the Reuben and water. “These are mine.”

“No, I’m paying for it all,” Dane said to the cashier.

The teenaged clerk glanced between the two of them as if he wasn’t sure who to obey. Kristen remained firm, but it wasn’t until Cambia gave the clerk the nod to take Kristen’s money that he did.

Cambia paid for his meal. He followed her to a small table by the large glass front window that looked out onto the square of old town.

Kristen took her time wiping the table clean with a napkin, removing her food from her tray and arranging her napkin. Dane grinned as he watched her. “You take your meals seriously.”

She blushed under his gaze. In the old days sit-down, formal meals were common, and she took them for granted; but now she treated a real meal as an event. Simple pleasures. “Yes, I know. I am a bit foolish when it comes to my meals. But I believe we eat with our eyes first and that it’s important to have a proper table setting.”

He sat down and stared at her, his meal untouched.

“You don’t belong in a place like this.”

Kristen shook her head. “Yes. I do.”

“You’re not a kid off the streets. You were born to money.”

She unfolded her paper napkin and smoothed it over her lap. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He leaned forward, lowering his voice a fraction. “Come on. You walk like you are the queen of England, you never have a hair out of place even when you’re working and you just spent five minutes setting the table in a simple deli. Let’s face it, you don’t belong in a place like this.”

She glanced around the room. The deli was filled with mostly young college kids in worn T-shirts, jeans and flip-flops. The guy behind them, a tall lanky kid with mustard stains on a tie-dyed shirt was already halfway through his sandwich and his chips were gone.

“You’re wrong.” She didn’t want to talk about herself. She sipped her cup of water and shifted tactics. “I’ve been wondering why you showed up so early today?”

Expressionless, Dane bit into a chip. “Yeah?”

She set her cup down. “And I think I know why.”

He picked up his turkey club. “That so?”

Feeling awkward, she hesitated. “Are you living in your car?”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she rushed to say.

Amusement flickered in his eyes. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you just showed up this morning. It was almost as if you had been parked outside overnight.”

He stared at her, saying nothing. Men could be proud, vain creatures and she suspected she’d offended him. “I’m not judging. I’m half on the streets myself. Fact is, I have been on the streets several times these last few months.”

“Why have you been on the streets?” he said.

She shook her head. “No, you’ve done that a couple of times.”

“What?”

“Turned the conversation back to me when you don’t want to talk about yourself.”

“Who just turned the conversation around a second ago?”

“That is beside the point. Why don’t you talk about yourself?”

“Maybe you are getting too personal.”

That caught her short. Embarrassment turned her cheeks red. “Perhaps I have grown too forward during these last few months. I didn’t used to be like that.”

He shrugged. “You are direct, I’ll give you that.”

She picked a piece of bread off her sandwich and popped it in her mouth. “Look, you don’t have to tell me where you are living, but I can tell you where there is acceptable and cheap housing near here.”

Her offer seemed to bother him. “Why would you help me? You don’t even know me.”

“I like you,” she said honestly. “If you need money or a place to stay, I have a little saved up.”

The fact that she had money seemed to worry him. “Don’t tell people you have money.”

“I’m not telling
people.
I’m telling
you.
I decided sometime today when I was dragging lumber to the Dumpster that you are a good man.”

Disapproval darkened Dane’s eyes. “Don’t bet on it.”

Dane hadn’t counted on the fact that Kristen had money. Money equaled mobility. And he didn’t want her mobile now.

But that was not a problem he could solve now, so he tucked it away, refusing to worry. He kept the rest of the evening light. They talked about music, the construction business and even politics, but neither offered any more personal information. Light and impersonal suited them both.

Dane drove Kristen back to the Yoga Studio and walked her up to the front door. Under the glow of the porch light, he waited as she dug the key out of her purse and opened the front door.

The take-out bag dangling from her arm, she faced him and smiled. “I had a good time.”

He was sorry the evening was going to end. “Me too.”

Without thinking, he raised his hand to her cheek and touched her blond hair. He traced her jawline and then her lips. He wanted to taste her again.

Kristen stared up at him, her full, moist lips slightly parted. “I made the first move last time. Now it’s your turn.”

Dane traced her brow with his fingertip. “I want to.”

“Then do it,” she said softly.

Dane tensed and released his jaw. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. Soft. Supple. Those lips drew him in and before he realized it, he wrapped his arm around her and deepened the kiss. The take-out bag poked his ribs so he pulled it out of her hand and set it on the porch.

Her scent wrapped around him. A soft moan rumbled deep in her chest as she pressed her breasts against his chest. She wanted him.

His tongue moved inside her mouth, caressing the velvet folds. Her hands pressed against his chest and she grabbed handfuls of his shirt and pulled him closer as if she wanted them to melt into each other.

Dane wanted to take her upstairs and make love to her right now. The primitive urge burned in his veins, making it difficult for him to think of anything else. His erection pressed against her as he kissed her harder.

But when he thought the need would sweep all reason from his mind, he found the strength to pull back. As much as he wanted her, he needed to stay objective. “I better get going.”

Confusion darkened her eyes as she moistened her lips. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“It’s not good to mix business and pleasure.”

His rejection surprised her, and the hurt showed in her eyes.

He squeezed her shoulder and then stepped back. “When the job is done, Kristen. When the job is done.”