Prisoner of Love Page 5

  But now? Now, after he’d realized he no longer wanted this transient lifestyle, Lucy Parker fit all the criteria he’d once rejected. She screamed substance, in her mind and form, and he found himself grudgingly admiring that. She could think on her feet; she wasn’t as scared of him as he would have liked, and that, dare he say, sweetness, made him want to sweep her up and hold her close. Shit, when was the last time he’d had a sentiment as sappy as that? But until he got his life back, there was no place in it for a sexy, glasses-clad girl in a Hello Kitty sweatshirt.

  Turning to leave, he swung back around. Allowed himself one last brush with innocence. He reached out and pinched some of that long, rich brown hair between two fingers. And resisted the urge to raise it to his nose. Instead, he let it drop from his fingertips with regret. Shaking his head at his own fancifulness, he glided out of the bedroom.

  First, he returned her car to working condition and then he replaced the battery in the other vehicle. After some false starts, the jeep’s engine turned over, sparing him from adding insult to injury and stealing Lucy’s car, though he had taken the cash from her wallet. Add theft to his growing list of offenses.

  With a last glance at the cabin, he shifted the jeep into drive, and Jake Dalton began his journey back into the world he’d been forced to abandon.

  Someone would pay for that.

  Chapter Five

  Lucy woke, body tensing as memory returned. Yesterday she’d been kidnapped and forced at knifepoint to drive an escaped convict to freedom. She’d been manhandled into submission. She’d broken bread with the criminal and been forced to sleep with him. What did she have to look forward to today?

  Her breath hitched. He’d said things to her last night. Inappropriate things that had her thinking far into the night, while he’d kept to his promise and left her completely alone. She stared up at the indistinct ceiling and considered his ridiculous assertions regarding her looks. She wondered where he got the idea that she looked like a model. Especially a Victoria’s Secret one.

  Even so, she surreptitiously ran her hands down her sweatsuit clad body, feeling full breasts and the flare of ample hips under the barrier of clothing. She shook her head. The man was nuts and sex-starved. She’d never been mistaken for a model. Never had been, never would be.

  Tossing his comments aside, she listened harder. Still nothing from his side of the bed. Carefully, she raised her head and stared over the mound of dividing pillows.

  Her companion was gone.

  She hopped into action after glancing around the room, sliding out from under the plaid bedclothes and rushing to the bedroom doorway. She pressed her ear to the gap to catch any sounds in the house. Silence.

  Easing out between the door and the jamb, she tiptoed down the hall and headed into the living area, eyes darting everywhere, muscles clenched for flight. But only stillness crashed against her heightened senses. Maybe she really was alone. She rounded the doorway like a James Bond wannabe, peeking around the frame with one eyeball, back against the wall. The only accessory she lacked was a gun.

  The kitchen was as empty as the rest of the rooms. Immediately, her eyes latched on to the kitchen window overlooking the carport. She moved to it and peered out.

  There stood the Honda, hood down, waiting like a trusty steed.

  Without thought, she swung the door open and careened down the steps to her car. Sliding inside it, she found the key still in the ignition where she’d forgotten it yesterday. She turned it on a prayer and grinned when the car sputtered to life, engine settling down into a reliable hum. The convict had replaced the car’s parts. He’d kept his word. She was free to go.

  Lucy grappled with the gearshift before throwing it into reverse. In moments, she roared down the dirt road, a rooster tail of dust chasing the car in its wild escape. Did she know where she was? Where she was going? It didn’t matter. Anywhere besides where she’d been was an improvement.

  Within minutes she’d returned to the main road, navigated blindly in the direction she thought she’d driven the day before. Had it been only yesterday? She felt as if a lifetime had passed since she’d embarked on her girls-only weekend.

  Once on the paved road, heading for what she hoped was the highway, Lucy decided to call Jane, tell her she’d been kidnapped. And then realized the convict had kept her phone. She could have screamed her frustration. Why, oh why, couldn’t this nightmare end?

  She took a steadying breath. She was safe for the moment. Free. She’d stop off at the first sheriff’s station she passed and report her kidnapping. She didn’t buy his whole drug-lord excuse about drawing attention to herself. Of course he wouldn’t want her to tell the authorities about her abduction. But she couldn’t not say anything either. That would make her an accomplice in his escape. With her phone in his possession, the authorities could probably trace his whereabouts. The search for him still had to be going strong, even though she hadn’t seen any evidence of that so far on the road.

  When she finally passed a highway patrol insignia, she took the ramp and drove right to the building. The mountain station itself didn’t engender confidence when she pulled in. It displayed architecture dating back to the seventies and the lot sported potholes and faded parking space lines. The only encouraging sign about the place was the parked patrol cars.

  Good for her. She walked inside and immediately told the middle-aged officer at the desk that she’d been kidnapped by the escaped convict Nicky Costas. Just like that, she had the attention of every person in the room.

  One of the officers, higher up in rank, she thought, broke from the group and approached her. He calmly asked if she needed a rape kit ordered. Embarrassed at the topic, she nevertheless negated the request. And remembered how often Costas had told her she was in no danger from him. She brought her mind back around to the moment at hand.

  They began firing questions at her: when did he kidnap her, where did they go, what had he been wearing? While one officer wrote down her answers, another shoved a color mug shot under Lucy’s nose, and she found herself staring down into an unsmiling, exact replica of Nicky “Jake” Costas.

  As she gazed into his eyes in the photograph, she felt that same weird zing of attraction she’d had in person. That trip of her pulse and hitch in her breath. What was wrong with her? Being drawn to an escaped prisoner was even worse than supporting Jobless Bob for months on end. She really did have a double dose of her mother’s gullibility when it came to men.

  Or it was Stockholm Syndrome—finally her mind was firing on all cylinders and she could remember the name. Yes. That was it. There was a perfectly rational explanation for her misplaced feelings—they even had a name for the disorder.

  She was not her mother.

  Pushing the photo back toward the officer, she nodded. “That’s him.” The man who’d massaged her wrists. Who had cooked her dinner. Who had told her he found her so attractive—

  Best not to think about what she’d felt against her during that scuffle in the bathroom. It had just been a natural male reaction after weeks of captivity. As had been his words about her looks. She knew better than to fall for compliments from a desperate man.

  At last she was free to go, exhausted from endless questions about her ordeal and filled to the brim from the bottomless cups of coffee offered to comfort her. She’d overheard muted phone conversations with the officials in charge of finding Costas, with his handlers from the prison. The station had suddenly become a beehive, and she was the cause of it. She couldn’t help but wonder what it would all mean for Jake when they finally located him. How would he react when cornered by guns and cars and helicopters? Would he know it was because of her? He would have to. But, what if they shot him? Isn’t that what happened when U.S. Marshals and local authorities conducted a manhunt?

  Oh God.

  As she walked out into the rutted parking lot, she swallowed the nasty bile that rose in her throat from the vision of her kidnapper cornered by all the chase vehicles li
ke a scene from a Jason Bourne movie. She steeled herself against the immediate wash of pity. Just because he hadn’t attacked her personally, had actually apologized for his behavior, that didn’t negate the fact that he’d still kidnapped her with a weapon and held her against her will. She would have nightmares of the event.

  Wouldn’t she?

  With the image of Jake stroking her battered wrists rising in her mind, she wondered. And questioned her actions. She’d reported her kidnapping against Jake’s urgings and she’d asked to be kept out of the media circus that had already begun since Nicky Costas’ escape. The police had said they’d be able to do that for now. But no matter how hard she tried to erase the past twenty-four hours from her mind, it had still happened. She was the proof.

  She’d done the right thing. Hadn’t she?

  He’d made it. Three jacked cars later and countless to-go cups of coffee behind him and Jake Dalton had finally made it back to civilization.

  Technically, he was parked down the street from Jerry’s cover apartment. Going to his own would have been suicide. He had made some effort to change his appearance back at the cabin by shaving off his beard. Once in town, he’d visited the lower level of the public parking garage around the corner from his place. Before this case started, he’d stashed an emergency backpack filled with a change of clothes, two hundred dollars in small bills, and his favorite sidekick, a Beretta with a full clip, under the metal ramp leading to the wheelchair entrance. He’d learned over the years to be prepared.

  Once bolstered with a weapon, a change of clothes, hastily-dyed auburn hair, and sunglasses, he’d tested his disguise by going into the local post office in search of a PO box Jerry had told him about ages ago, a safety net he’d called it. Jake hoped it would hold the answer to why Farelli was accusing him of stealing his money. But, like all his shitty luck lately, he’d found he couldn’t just wiggle the lock free on the PO box. It would need more finessing and Jake didn’t feel comfortable being out in the open too long. He’d decided to confront Jerry about it and then go from there.

  The next order of business was calling his captain. It was a risk using Lucy Parker’s cell phone, but he had to try. By now everyone knew of his escape the day before, so he wanted to check in and give his side of the story. And then he was going to pay Jerry a little visit and see who the hell had sent Farelli’s goons sniffing around him.

  Jake punched in the numbers of his captain’s private line. While he waited for the connection, his gaze swept over the street from side to side as he’d been trained to do so many years ago. No delivery trucks, repair vans, or Caltrans vehicles lingered about the road, harboring undercover cops. Or worse.

  “Who is this?”

  Ah, yes. Captain Ralph Innes didn’t mince words. Jake smiled slightly. Some things never changed. And then he got down to business.

  “Cap’n, it’s me. Dalton. If you ever respected me as a cop, let me talk before you send out the troops.”

  “Ah, hell, Jake. Why’d you run? You knew you’d get sprung before your trial. Now I’ve got a manhunt to try and control. Couldn’t you have stayed where you were? It was your cover’s only safety insurance.”

  Jake looked out the windshield at the near-empty street. Narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, well, seems like that insurance policy lapsed, Cap. Some friends of Farelli’s paid me a visit while I was in the can. Wanted to know where his money was. Threatened to start hacking away some of my favorite body parts, beginning with my fingers, if I didn’t give up its whereabouts. I like my fingers, boss, so what the hell is going on?”

  Silence on the other end of the line met Jake’s question. He knew his commanding officer. Innes was gauging just how much he wanted to divulge to his runaway operative. Jake couldn’t fault him, even if the knowledge rankled. Many a cop had been swayed by the lure of confiscated goods and cash.

  Finally a sigh let Jake know Innes was done thinking. For now. “That’s what we want to know. Have you seen any unaccounted for cash lately?”

  Jake felt the top of his head blow off at the accusation. “Are you shittin’ me, Cap’n? Did you really just ask me if I’ve stolen evidence?”

  Complete silence was the only response. Jake felt the noose of entrapment loop around his neck. Tighten imperceptibly.

  “Listen to me, Dalton, before you go off half-cocked. We’re missing money from that bust you were pulled in on—”

  “And I’m the guy you automatically think of as the culprit? Jesus H. Christ, Cap. Think much of me?” It was time to wrap this reunion, Jake thought bitterly. No fatted calf for this prodigal son.

  “Yeah, well, there’ve been accusations.”

  Oh, hell, this was just getting better and better. “By whom? The only person I worked close with was Jerry, and he wouldn’t…”

  The lack of agreement that met Jake’s fading words spoke louder than a bullhorn. He began shaking his head.

  “No, no, no. Jer wouldn’t do that to me, Cap. Jerry’s always had my back. He and I—”

  “After we sprung him, Jerry said he saw you siphoning some of the take before the bust. With his own eyes, Jake. I couldn’t get your side because you ran.” The sadness in the captain’s voice told Jake his superior didn’t want to believe it. “Why don’t you come in? We’ll talk about it.”

  “Screw that, boss. No more bars for me. You wanna talk, talk now. Better yet, you’ve said all I needed to know. That it’s easier for my family, my home away from home, to believe I’m a traitor, a goddamn sell-out, than to overturn rocks and find the real culprit. I’ll do this on my own. I’m getting used to working by myself, after all.”

  “I can’t sanction that, Jake. You know better.”

  “Yeah, I know the drill. Your hands are tied. But mine sure as hell aren’t.” Jake made a restless move in the car. He needed to get on with his investigation, now that he was working alone.

  “Just so you know. I had trouble believing Litton’s story—”

  “Don’t smother me with kindness, boss. I don’t think I can handle all the warm fuzzies I’m feeling right now.”

  “Shut up, Dalton.”

  Jake took the phone from his ear. Stared at it momentarily. His captain never talked like that. He replaced it. Innes was still speaking.

  “…All that money we used in the sting? I had ours marked. By the serial numbers. Just like always. And some of it showed up at a gas station in Vegas, Jake. Just four days ago. Do you know what that means?”

  Jake’s mind raced. Yeah, he knew what the hell that meant. His pulse doubled at the implication. He spoke slowly, thoughtfully. “It means someone got greedy and skimmed before the bust. Took some of our evidence without knowing and spent it in Sin City. Who else knows about this?”

  “No one. Yet. I buried the report, so I could hear your side of the story. But breaking out of lock up was the wrong move. You made yourself look bad, kid. ”

  “So what’s new?” Jake sneered at himself in the rearview mirror. He itched to end this confab. Wanted to confront his childhood buddy while he was unawares. He planned to wait for Jerry in his apartment, no matter how long it took for a reunion. It seemed they had a lot to talk about, and not just the mysterious PO box.

  “Like I said, I can’t approve what you’ve done. It’s not department sanctioned. You’ll be in hot water when we bring you in. So you might as well use your free time wisely. I would imagine the gas station outside Circus Circus has video cameras.”

  Once more Jake took the phone and stared at it. Had his captain just told him where the marked money had appeared? That, off the record, he wanted Jake to pursue leads? His spirits soared. His boss, his commander, still believed in him. And because of that, Jake was going to run with the ball. He had no choice. It was his life on the line, after all.

  “I gotcha, Cap’n, loud and clear. I’ll keep in touch.”

  Jake disconnected the call and stared unseeingly out the windshield once more. He swallowed the knot of disappointment that rose in
his throat. Did their past mean that little to Jerry that he could accuse Jake of stealing evidence? Why? What mattered more to Jerry than their lifelong friendship?

  Jake could only find out by confronting him.

  Flipping Lucy Parker’s blingy phone over, Jake began to field-strip it. Once he’d finished, he slid out of the driver’s seat of the Datsun truck he’d hotwired at dawn, took the dismantled phone, and crushed it under his heel. Then he picked up the pieces and tossed them into the truck bed. No sense in leaving evidence around.

  He zipped up his hoodie against the cool morning air and trudged toward the rear of the apartment building. Once hidden behind the structure, he pocketed his sunglasses and moved to the fire escape, swung up to the second floor hallway window, which hung partially open. So much for security. Shoving it up soundlessly, no mean feat considering the rust build-up on the casement, he dropped through the opening, landing silently on the threadbare hall carpet. He crouched, waiting.

  Silence.

  Not wasting any time, he moved down the hall, stopping off at the shared laundry room on this floor to pick up the apartment key he knew Jerry would have taped to the bottom of the folding table for safekeeping. It was something Jake did for extra precaution, as well. Palming the key, he headed toward his friend’s unit, hoping no residents would pop out on their way to work. His luck held, and the key slid into the lock. The door latch clicked, and he was in.

  He sighed as he pushed the entrance door shut and leaned against it, glancing around the dim space that mirrored his own shitty pad. Just enough crap out to look like someone lived there, but nothing incriminating or too personal.

  Remaining where he was, Jake let his eyes tour the room. When they lit on dishes stacked by the sink, he made a mental fist pump. Jerry had been here, and recently. Maybe he still was.