twitched his lips. “Feel free to use some of the cash you stole to pay the bill, too.”
I raised my eyebrow. “I never said I stole the cash. I only admitted to stealing back the ring. Maybe you’re a thief who loses track of what he has in his pocket.”
“Sweetheart, I never lose track of
I raised an eyebrow. “And what else have you got that I’d be interested in?”
He grinned. “I’m sure we could think of something.”
“I’m sure you could,” I said, voice dry. Just as I was sure I’d love it. Whatever “it” was.
He left the booth. I sipped my coffee and watched his retreat. Egan and I had never shared easy banter like that. Had never teased or touched or done any of those fun things most lovers do. He’d been too uncomfortable with the whole situation, too aware of the white coats and the cameras. Thank God they’d never installed microphones, otherwise he’d have never come near me. As it was, we’d only ever made love at night, with the lights off, when he had the illusion of some degree of privacy.
It wasn’t exactly the most normal introduction to sex and sensuality a girl could have had.
The old woman wandered over with the coffeepot. “Want a top-up, love?”
“Thanks.” I held out my cup, and pushed Trae’s forward. He might not get to drink it, because we’d probably have to run once he deflated the tires, but it was better to keep up appearances for our watchers.
“You two down here for a vacation?” the woman asked, as she poured coffee into Trae’s cup.
“Just passing through.” I shrugged. “Wish we could stay longer, though. It’s pretty.”
“Well, not so much around these parts. It’s pretty old and dumpy here.”
I smiled, remembering my distaste as we’d approached the old building. And yet, once inside, it had proved to be warm, homey, and friendly. Just went to show, the old saying about the book and its cover was correct.
“But the food is as good as any of those uptown places.”
She beamed. “Can I get you anything else?”
“If he wanted to sneak out to let the air out of the tires of that car, he could have just asked to slip out the back. Has to be uncomfortable, a man his size squeezing through the bathroom window.”
I just about choked on my coffee. I coughed as the hot liquid slid down the wrong way, but somehow managed to say, “What?”
There was a mischievous twinkle in the old girl’s eyes. “Frank saw him sneaking around. Pretty good, he reckons, and Frank would know. He had a bit of a way-ward past, when we were kids.” She paused. “So is it husband trouble, or the law?”
“Husband,” I said, probably much too quickly. Not that she was likely to believe the truth, anyway. “We’ve been separated for over a year, but he just won’t accept it. Has me followed everywhere.”
She nodded. “Some men are like that. What you need to do is give him a little of his own medicine.”
“Who can be bothered?”
She grimaced, and patted me on the shoulder. “If you feel the need to slip out, just come through the kitchen and pay. Frank will let you out the back door.”
“I appreciate it.”
She nodded and walked back to the counter. I sipped my coffee and watched the wind roll an empty Coke bottle across the road. Part of me longed to turn around and see just what those men in the black car were doing, but I dared not let them know anything might be wrong. So I drank, and ate the pancakes, and generally tried to ignore the tension creeping through my limbs.
After a while, the woman came back with the check. “He’s just slipping back in now, in case you’re wondering.”
“Thanks,” I said, with a smile.
As she walked back toward the kitchen, I glanced at the check and got out the money, adding an extremely generous tip in the process. Hell, it wasn’t my money anyway, and maybe she’d be more inclined to think kindly about us if things got nasty.
Trae slipped into the booth a few seconds later, and wrapped his hands around his coffee. “You know, for a woman who doesn’t like pancakes, you sure as hell made a good job of finishing them off.”
“And for a thief, you sure as hell did a lousy job of sneaking about.”
He frowned. “And why would you think that? Those men didn’t spot me.”
“No, but the old girl and her cook did. I told them we were sneaking away from my hubby’s trackers.”
“Not very original.”
“When lying, it pays to stick to the classics. They tend to be more believable.”
“And you know this from experience?”
“Hey,
He grimaced. “I misjudged the size of my shoulders and that window, but I was hoping they wouldn’t notice above the usual kitchen noise.”
“Frank apparently has a past and eagle eyes. The old girl said we could slip out the back if we wanted to.”
“As long as they’re watching us, they’re not noticing the tires. That’s what we want right now. You ready to go?”
I gulped down the rest of my coffee and rose. The itching at the back of my neck got stronger, and as we made our way to the door, I stole a glance at the car.
One man was out and leaning on the door, and his expression, even from this distance, looked somewhat agitated.
“Act normal,” Trae repeated, as if reading my thoughts. “And keep hoping they won’t do anything here, out in the open.”
He pushed the diner’s front door wide and ushered me through. The wind swirled around us, lifting the hair from the nape of my neck and running cold fingers down my spine. I shivered and crossed my arms, trying to keep warm against the sudden chill.
Trae touched my back as he moved up beside me, placing his body between me and those men. His light touch sent warmth skittering across my skin, and though it did little to battle the internal chill, I felt a tad more secure.
But not safe. Not with those men so close.
“Has he gotten back into the car yet?” I murmured, my gaze on Trae’s stolen black car.
“No. He’s still standing behind the open door. The driver is still on the phone.”
“Something is going on.”
“It won’t matter in a couple of seconds.”
In a couple of seconds I’d be a nervous wreck. God, how I wanted to run to his car and get the hell away from them. The urge to do just that was so great my muscles were practically twitching.
As we neared Trae’s car, his touch left me, and the chill returned twofold. He pressed the auto unlock. The lights flashed, and orange light skittered across the road, looking almost bloody against the dark asphalt.
A tremor ran down my spine. I grasped the handle, eager to get out of here.
But even as I began opening the car door, movement caught my eye. I turned and saw the man standing behind the open door of the scientist’s car raise his arms and rest them on the top of the door frame.
Saw the glint of metal in his hands.
Realized I’d been wrong, so wrong, in my earlier estimation of how far they might go out in the open, in front of witnesses.
I heard the incongruous popping sound.
I swore and flung open the door. Something slammed into my shoulder, spinning me around, smashing my head against the top of the car.
Then I was falling . . .
