chapter forty-seven
¦¦¦
CAIN
I can’t believe we found her.
Given the life she used to lead, I can’t believe she made such a rookie mistake. As I sit in my rental car and watch her take John’s order through the diner window, I think about how fucking thankful I am that she did.
I owe Dan... I don’t know what I owe him. A vital organ, perhaps. Through his connections, CNN picked up the murder story, sensationalizing it as part of a national drug problem piece. From there, it filtered out to a lot of smaller news stations.
After that strange call on my cell three nights ago, John had the number traced to a pay phone in Mobile, Alabama within minutes. He was on the first flight out the next day. I would have been, too, had he not convinced me to stay. He figured she had used a random pay phone and it would take him weeks—or longer—to find her.
But she didn’t. She used the one only four blocks away. And, thanks to John’s weakness for local diners, he stumbled upon her within forty-eight hours.
She’s cut her hair. It looks really pretty. It makes her look older, too, despite the light makeup on her face.
She still looks like a little doll.
Fuck, have I ever missed her!
It’s taking every ounce of my willpower not to charge in there right now. I’m torn. I don’t know why she hasn’t come back to me, now that Sam is dead. I assume that’s why she called when she did, but I can’t be certain.
That makes me think that maybe she doesn’t want to come back to me, regardless. Maybe she wants a clean break, with no memories of her old life. If that’s the case, I don’t want to make a scene in there and mess up all that she has going on. John confirmed that she’s living above the garage of the diner owner—a nice lady with a criminal-free background, who closes the place to attend church early on Sundays.
And so I sit. And I quietly watch the woman I don’t want to live without live a life without me in it.
chapter forty-eight
¦¦¦
CHARLIE
My keys make a loud noise as they drop onto the dresser beside the door. My apron and purse follow, and then I kick off my shoes. It’s my new nightly ritual. Next is a shower, to wash the greasy diner smell out of my hair. I never bother turning on the lamp because the fluorescent bulbs cast such harsh lighting and, besides, there’s enough light shining into the window from the street.
I don’t know how I missed him sitting on my bed.
“You just can’t sleep without these fancy sheets, can you?”
I yelp out in surprise as I jump back, my back slamming into the wall. “How did you get in here?” I can barely hear my own voice, my blood rushing into my ears.
He stands and I instinctively take a step forward, toward that beautiful man who was mine for a short period of time, until reality caught up with me. But my feet stall, the truth of what I’ve done to him making me wonder if I should steel myself to defend against an emotional attack.
One that I deserve.
My breaths grow shallow with the rising panic.
Is he here to tell me that he hates me? That the cops will be here in minutes to arrest me?
Cain doesn’t stop. He keeps moving closer and closer, until his overpowering body makes my knees weak and his stunning face makes me lean in.
And those dark brown eyes make me burst into tears.
He grabs my wrist and pulls me against his chest without hesitation, his defined arms wrapping me tight. “You know that I’m resourceful,” I somehow hear him say over my sobs. He releases a deep sigh and I sense the tension in his body slide out. “God, Charlie, you’ve put me through hell.”
“I’m sorry.” I start crying harder with his words. “I didn’t have a choice. It was—”
“I know.” He eases his grip on me and takes a step back, tilting my head back with a hand on my chin. His fingers start smoothing away my tears. If he knew how many tears I’ve cried for him... “I know everything.”