Page 82 of Paging Dr. Hart
“Shut up,” I snap, which sparks grim satisfaction in his eyes.
“You know what? Now that I think about it, not only will I mention your name when I get up on that stage, I’ll call out your boyfriend, too.” Rafe puts the final nail in my coffin. “What’s his name? Ethan? Dr. Ethan Clark.” A cruel smile at my look of disbelief. “You weren’t the only one wearing a name tag yesterday.”
My stomach sinks into the ground.
“We leave now.” Rafe adjusts the backpack straps on his shoulders.
“No.” I cross my arms over my chest, belligerent.
“Yes. Or else I walk through those doors and spill all your secrets. Oh, and don’t bother trying to call the police or anyone else for help because a good friend of mine is holding a copy of this photo and has instructions to postit all over the web if something happens to me.” He takes a threatening step closer. “I’m not letting this go. Not until I get my way.”
I stand there, indecisive, fear thickening in my throat.
“Come on, Tiffany,” he urges. “A smart woman like you should know you can’t outrun your past. Trust me, I’ve tried.”
I look longingly across the room, at the large wooden doors that lead back into the safety of the conference. The current guest speaker’s voice echoes faintly through the closed doors, but it might as well be in another universe.
It’s agony, having Ethan a room away. I want so badly to go to him. To tell him about Rafe and what I’m being asked to do. For so long, I’ve been on my own. Able to handle my problems with no one else to help. Now, after one night with Ethan, I want nothing more than to burst through the doors and run into his arms. How nice it would be to offer all these problems to him and then solve them together.
But I don’t go to Ethan. My mom taught me that sometimes love is about sacrifice. Giving away parts of yourself to keep the person you care about happy and safe. At that moment, it hits me with crystal clarity.
I love Ethan.
Maybe it’s too early to feel this way about him, or maybe my brain is just catching up to what my heart already knows. Either way, it’s the truth. I love him and will do anything for him.
I book the plane tickets on my phone and leave with Rafe.
66
Present, Las Vegas, Nevada
Desolate, I stare out of the airplane window, watching the clouds wisp by as the plane levels off from takeoff. All I can think about is Ethan. I can’t believe it took me this long to see the truth.
I love him.
In my romance books, sometimes love is a bludgeon that hits you over the head and drags you back to a cave to have its way with you. But now I see love can also be like a thief in the night, sneaking in through a crack in the window and slipping into your bed. That’s what my love for Ethan is like. It snuck up on me.
But can he ever love me, therealme, back? If he finds out all the awful things I’ve done…
It won’t matter, anyway. When I don’t return from the bathroom, Ethan will think I broke my promise. The one thing he asked of me was not to run away, but that isexactlywhat this will look like. He’ll never forgive me.
I need to stop thinking about Ethan and focus on my safety. I don’t understand Rafe’s plans yet. What will he do to me if I find the diamonds? What will he do if I fail? Determined to find some answers, I break the tense silence that has existed between Rafe and me since we left the hotel.
First, the question I wanted to ask yesterday. “Where is Shelly? Is she okay?”
Rafe is so big and muscular that his upper body extends into my space. When his elbow touches my arm, he jerks away. “Last time I saw Shelly, she was in Mexico and she was fine. You always worried too much about her.”
A new thought occurs to me. “How do you know she hasn’t already come back and claimed the diamonds? Maybe she beat you there?”
“She wouldn’t go to Vegas.” Rafe gives a humorless laugh. “Shelly’s got a warrant out for her arrest. She can’t risk coming back into the United States.”
“A warrant? For what?” I sit up straight, alarmed.
“Don’t worry about it,” is all he’ll say. Rafe’s not in a very conversational mood, but then he’s always been that way.
I’m not going to let him off the hook so easily. Some things have bothered me for years, and now that I’ve got him trapped in a seat next to me for a couple of hours I’ll force him to speak, somehow.
I take my time and observe him. He’s tense, all tight jaw and frowning mouth. There are lines on his face that he didn’t used to have, little wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and bracketing his mouth. Not laugh lines, more like worry lines. I’m guessing life hasn’t been easy since he left Las Vegas.
