Caught by You. Kris Rafferty

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СКАЧАТЬ apartment, and she was there within minutes. Millie was already waiting, giving no indication of upset. No tears fell from her green eyes, because a crying child would attract attention. She was ten, sporting a long, blond ponytail hanging down her back, and she held a go-bag filled with thirty thousand dollars, one toothbrush, a package of wipes, a bottle of water, Tylenol, and a few granola bars. Millie had to leave by herself, because if the contract killers came here looking for them, they’d track a pair. Two sisters.

      Avery stepped past Millie without comment and entered the convenience store to buy a ticket for the Greyhound bus idling at the curb. Neither she nor Millie asked where it was going. They knew it didn’t matter. What mattered was Millie left this place. Avery handed her the ticket.

      “Get off at the first station, and ask for a transfer ticket to Boston’s South Station. Use money from the bag only when necessary, but be careful no one sees what you have. You’re vulnerable, Millie. They’ll try to use that against you.” Millie nodded, looking at the blood on Avery’s uniform. That look—stark terror—had Avery second-guessing herself. Maybe she should risk leaving together, but… Avery couldn’t travel looking like this, and Millie had to leave now. It wasn’t safe here.

      Millie touched her hand, drawing her thumb over Avery’s rings. “Maybe you could find a way to make him leave us alone.”

      Him. Her ex-husband. “The damage is done. Dante has set something in motion, and now he can’t stop it even if he wanted to.” And she suspected Dante didn’t want to. The man was twisted, brutal, and without conscience. He wanted what he wanted, and Avery was a threat to his power. He wouldn’t stop trying to kill Avery until she was under his control or dead. They had to hide, or kill him, and Avery wasn’t a murderer. She wasn’t. So, that meant running.

      She glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone was paying attention to them. Jeremy, the college-kid clerk, was oblivious. She handed Millie her ticket and nudged her sister toward the exit. “Remember. Boston’s South Station. My contact, Jason Chadwick, will find you. Remember that name. Give him the bag. Only him, okay? I’ll meet up with you when it’s safe, as soon as possible.”

      Millie nodded. “Yes.”

      Then Millie stepped on the bus, not looking back. The moment felt final, as if Avery would never see her sister again, and that scared her to death, because this was her fault. Eight years ago, something horrific happened. They’d been helpless, and everything dear and necessary to them was taken in the space of a moment. They couldn’t recover, only react. Avery chose vengeance and was still paying the price. Millie, too. She was paying, too.

      Trembling, drying blood made her arms and face itch, as Avery dialed her contact’s number. He was her backup plan, that she’d hoped never to use. When the line connected, she didn’t wait for Jason to say hello. “Millie will be at Boston’s South Station Greyhound terminal in four hours.”

      “I’ll be there.” She believed him, because he knew Millie had the money, and he knew Avery would hunt him down otherwise. She hung up without comment, watching Millie’s bus pull away from the curb.

      Time to make Patty Whitman disappear.

      * * * *

      Vincent found Avery by following the trail of people gossiping along Main Street. Apparently, a waitress covered in blood wasn’t a common sight hereabouts…and people noticed. Go figure.

      “Patty?” It felt weird to use that name, but she’d never corrected him, so Patty it was. He held the storefront’s door open, more relieved than anything else to find her inside. She was alive, safe. He’d take that as a win.

      She had her back to him, buying a bus ticket from the clerk. Vincent saw the blood stains that started at her neck, and ran down her uniform to her legs, covering the white shoes with spatter. After seeing what she’d done to Jim with his knife, Vincent supposed most of the blood wasn’t hers, but it was a small consolation. He felt pangs. Many pangs of guilt that she’d had to fight Jim alone, and that she’d been injured because of it. He told himself there’d been too many guns, too many potential targets to control the situation completely, but there was a niggling of fear that he could have done better by her. Should have. He’d had one mission in that diner, and that was to keep an eye on her. Sure, things went to hell, but Avery had survived that diner disaster without his help. He’d carry that guilt for life.

      “Patty.” She was ignoring him, acting as if she weren’t covered in blood. He suspected she was in shock. He’d seen enough of it to recognize the symptoms. The clerk caught Vincent’s gaze, and then widened his eyes, not hiding his unease that his customer was bloody and seemingly oblivious to the fact. Even the clerk knew her behavior was odd. Why didn’t Avery? Definitely in shock.

      She took the ticket and stuffed it into her purse. “Thank you, Jeremy.”

      From the looks of Jeremy, he was all of seventeen. Vincent flashed Jeremy his credentials so he wouldn’t have to explain. Avery turned and saw them, and he saw her eyes. They weren’t dilated, so she wasn’t in shock, and his FBI credentials didn’t even warrant a twitch of fear. That meant she wasn’t running from him, and either had nerves of steel or was suffering from amnesia. She had to suspect he was here because of her ex-husband, right? Then he remembered the knife pinning Eric’s hand to the shotgun, and Jim, the junkie, bloody on the floor. So…nerves of steel. Good to know. She was trained and unflappable. Dangerous.

      “What are you doing?” He made sure to keep his expression puzzled and worried. The moment their interaction became about controlling her, he had a feeling he’d lose even the small amount of goodwill he’d managed to build between them.

      Avery walked passed him. “Who’s asking?”

      “Huh?” It wasn’t as if he could pretend he was anything but the FBI Special Agent she’d seen in action at the diner, but he could pretend that his status didn’t matter. After all, Feds went on fishing trips, too. “I was worried about you.” He kept pace with her as they walked down the sidewalk.

      “How did you find me?” she said.

      “I could say when local law enforcement arrived on scene, I explained the prime witness disappeared, so I went in hot pursuit.”

      “But that’s not the real reason?” She seemed to be weighing his words.

      “Like I said—” He gave her his version of puppy dog eyes. “I was worried about you.”

      That seemed to mollify her, but she didn’t slow her gait. “You still didn’t tell me how you found me.”

      She was interrogating him. And wasn’t that just a fine how do you do, he thought.

      “A blood-covered waitress meandering through town? You’ve started rumors of a zombie apocalypse.” She kept walking, eyes front. “Stop and talk to me, will you?” She was strung so tightly he feared forcing the issue lest she see it as an attack, and she’d been hurt enough. He didn’t want to upset her more. “I’m worried about you, Patty.” Yeah, he needed to keep her under his thumb, but he wanted her injuries checked out by a doctor, too.

      Her expression softened, making him think he was making headway with her. “Thank you,” she said. “That’s sweet. I’m sorry I worried you.”

      “But?” He could tell she was exerting herself with her pace, because her cheeks were flushed, and the pulse at her neck was visible and racing.

      “But—” СКАЧАТЬ