Page 5 of Risk It All
“Why are you doing this again, dum-dum?” Cara muttered to herself as she pretended to examine the for-sale listings plastered over the real estate office’s window. In actuality, she was watching a certain skip—one she’d sworn to stop chasing—in her periphery. “You survived likely death once. Stop following the murderer, go home, and start researching the nice, nonviolent tax evader.”
Despite the mental lecture, she didn’t walk away. Instead, she continued staring at Henry Kavenski’s reflected image. Ten minutes ago, he’d parked himself on a bus-stop bench down the street, and he hadn’t so much as shifted since.
“We need the money,” she argued under her breath. “That’s the only reason why I’m giving this another shot. If I can bring in KavenskiandAbbott, that’ll give us some breathing room while Felicity and Charlie search for Mom.”
When she’d walked into the house the day before, ready to start researching a much safer Abbott, she’d found Molly hunched over her laptop, her expression more drawn and deeply worried than it had been since that first hungry year after they’d started the business. Cara had known that they were hurting for money after the whole Jane thing—especially after the burglary—but the tight line between Molly’s eyebrows and the anxious downturn of her mouth really brought home how serious things were. Plus, if they ended up losing their house…
Cara hurried to cut off that train of thought, not wanting to fall down the familiar black hole of stress and worry—especially while she was actively watching a skip. Despite his surprisingly nonviolent reaction to finding her breaking into his motel room, she couldn’t afford to get complacent just because Kavenski’s shoulders were impossibly broad and his mouth looked both hard and temptingly soft at the same time.
Stop.Even though no one could hear her thoughts, her cheeks still burned with embarrassment. This tiny crush she was developing—on anaccused murderer—was ridiculous and dangerous, and she had to nip it in the bud immediately.
Mortification won where common sense hadn’t, and she started to move away from the real estate office. Her car was parked less than a mile away. She’d leave, drive home, research a more reasonable skip, and forget that she’d ever set eyes on Henry Kavenski.
As she turned, she couldn’t resist a final glance at the still figure sitting on the bench. Judging by the lack of other people, the bus wasn’t going to arrive for some time, and she felt a shot of curiosity about why he’d planted himself there. In the days she’d followed him, she’d found that he tended to stay out of public places. He’d never parked himself on a busy street for no apparent reason before.
Cara took two steps before succumbing to the need to glance at him again. As she did, she saw his spine straighten in a movement so slight that it was almost imperceptible. If she hadn’t been watching him too closely for her own good, she wouldn’t have noticed it. Even though she could only see his back and a hint of his profile, there was something about the way he held himself that told her he was alert and prepared for trouble.
Well, I can’t leavenow, she thought with exasperation—and more excitement than was appropriate.Things are just getting interesting.
Pulling out her phone, she leaned against the rough brick wall and pretended to text. Instead, she pulled up her camera app and surreptitiously scanned the area for whatever had made Kavenski tense. There was an older couple setting up a flower stand halfway down the block, a twentysomething guy walking slowly past the bus shelter while staring down at his phone, and a woman pushing a stroller toward the bus stop at a brisk pace.
When the guy looking at his phone passed Kavenski with no apparent interaction, not even a glance, Cara turned her attention to the woman with the stroller. She was wearing oversize sunglasses, and her hair was either very short or tucked up under a trendy knit hat. From her boots to her belted jacket to the thin scarf artfully wound around her neck, the woman was perfectly put together. The baby in the stroller was hidden by the deep sides and the pulled-up sun hood, and everything about them seemed like a picture from a fashion shoot.
When the woman stopped the stroller next to the bus-stop bench and took a seat next to Kavenski, Cara knew something was up. For one, she would eat her phone if that woman would ever set foot on a public bus. Also, Kavenski, for all his hotness, was a big and intimidating guy. No one would casually plop themselves down next to a dangerous-looking stranger, especially with her baby right there.
With both Kavenski and the woman facing forward, it was impossible for Cara to see if they were talking. She was tempted to move closer to the pair to see if she could eavesdrop, but Kavenski had known she’d been following him earlier, and that made her hesitate. It was one thing for her to follow as he skulked around town, but this meeting seemed very shady and purposeful. He’d let her go once, but who knew what he’d do if she had incriminating information on him.
The woman turned her head toward Kavenski for just a few seconds, and Cara hurried to take a few pictures. With the oversize sunglasses, hat, and scarf, it was hard to get an idea of what the woman actually looked like, especially from a distance. The only things Cara was sure of were that she was white, tall, and fashion-conscious.
To Cara’s frustration, she saw that the woman’s lips were indeed moving. Once again resisting the urge to get close enough to listen to their conversation, Cara watched as the woman reached into the stroller and appeared to adjust the baby’s blanket. When she withdrew her hand, however, she was holding something white and rectangular.
Almost bursting with curiosity, even as her heart pounded from fear of discovery, Cara found herself leaning forward, straining to see what the woman had taken from the stroller. In just the split second it took her to pass the item to Kavenski, Cara was pretty sure it was a legal-sized envelope. Before she could see any other details or even take a few steps closer, he slipped the item into his jacket pocket.
The woman stood and pushed the stroller past Kavenski, and Cara realized that she would be passing right by. After a frozen second, she forced her gaze to her phone screen. Her hair fell in heavy curtains on either side of her face, hiding her profile from the woman’s view, and Cara was intensely grateful that she hadn’t pulled it back that morning.
The seconds seemed to tick by agonizingly slowly as theburrof stroller wheels and the sharp click of the woman’s bootheels drew closer. Cara didn’t breathe as the woman passed just five feet away, and her pounding heart was so loud it made it hard to hear if the footsteps were slowing.
When she couldn’t hold her breath any longer, she dared a pseudo-casual glance and saw the back of the woman a half block away. Sucking in a much-needed breath, Cara returned her attention to Kavenski, just in time to see him rocket off the bench right into rush-hour traffic. The movement was so sudden and unexpected that Cara jerked back a step, startled.
“What is he doing?” Without considering the wisdom of whatshewas doing, Cara bolted toward him, her eyes locked on his big, surprisingly nimble form as he played a terrifying game ofFroggerwith oncoming cars. Brakes squealed and drivers laid on their horns as Kavenski shot across the road to the far lane. Turning to face the SUV heading toward him, he raised both hands, palms out, like a traffic cop.
He faced down the oncoming vehicle barreling toward him. The tires squealed as the wheels locked, and Cara instinctively reached toward him as if she could somehow snatch him to safety. His huge frame actually looked small as the five-thousand-pound vehicle bore down on him.
Cara reached the curb, a useless shout of warning building in her chest. Kavenski stared down the SUV, not even flinching as it rocketed closer. Just inches from Kavenski, the vehicle lurched to a halt, rocking back from the force of the stop. Cara’s breath escaped her in a rush. She stopped abruptly, realizing that she had been about to run right out into traffic. She’d been so focused on Kavenski’s near death that she hadn’t even thought about her own safety.
As the driver of the SUV rolled his window down and screamed invectives, Kavenski turned and strode over to a small dog huddled in the center of the lane. Scooping up the tiny furball, Kavenski stepped out of the street, waving casually at the still-yelling driver to continue on his way.
Cara gave a small gasping laugh at Kavenski’s nonchalance. He was acting as if risking his life to save a tiny dog was no big deal, while Cara’s heart was still trying to pound out of her chest and her hands shook with an overdose of adrenaline. As if he’d heard her slightly panicked laughter, Kavenski met her gaze across the four lanes of traffic. They stared at each other for an eternal moment before the corner of his mouth kicked up in more of a grimace than a smile.
He was the one who broke eye contact, turning with the little dog cuddled gently against his chest. Kavenski didn’t seem at all put out by the way the ball of fluff was licking his chin with a tiny pink tongue, but the incongruous picture made Cara laugh again.
Slightly calmer now, she stepped back from the curb, although she kept her gaze on Kavenski, unable to take her eyes off the man. He looked even bigger in contrast to the small dog he held so carefully, but his usual aura of menace had been severely fractured by what Cara had just witnessed. How could she be afraid of a man when he was cuddling a tiny ball of fluff he’d just risked his life to save?
He carried the pup to a convertible that had pulled over to the side of the road with its hazard lights flashing. The driver, a white-haired woman, got out and rushed toward Kavenski, arms outstretched. With the noise of the traffic, Cara couldn’t hear what he said to her, but she nodded emphatically several times before he handed the dog to her. Kavenski watched as the woman returned to the driver’s seat, clutching the dog against her chest. He didn’t move from his spot until the convertible’s roof began to extend, enclosing the woman and her dog safely inside the car.
Now that the panic had receded and Cara’s brain was working again, she realized that the dog must’ve jumped out of the convertible into the road. She wondered if Kavenski had insisted that the convertible’s roof be closed before he gave the woman back her dog. Cara studied him, rubbing a hand over her lips as her brain struggled to fit the Kavenski she’d researched—who’d supposedly shot and killed two people in cold blood—with the man who’d just risked his life to save a dog, and who was currently watching the owner with the air of a safety-conscious crossing guard.
As the convertible—roof fully closed—drove away, Kavenski’s gaze met Cara’s once again. Despite the width of the road separating them, she saw his eyes widen slightly, breaking his usual impassive expression. Their gazes clung together until, with a sharp shake of his head, he turned and strode away. Cara stared after him even after he was out of sight. The sound of a box truck rattling by pulled her out of her thoughts, and she started walking to where she’d parked her car.
