In Plain Sight (Stolen Hearts) (8 page)

Chapter Four

The next morning, Bridget waited until nine o’clock to call Rafe from the coffee shop across the street. She wrinkled her nose against the smell of stale bacon grease and fried eggs as she waited for him to pick up. She’d been watching his apartment building since seven-thirty, so she knew he was still there. Unless he hadn’t spent the night at home.

The headache that had been lurking the last hour jabbed at her right temple. It’d never occurred to her that he’d have a girlfriend. What had she been thinking? A man as good-looking as Rafe? Of course he would. He probably had a dozen.

“Hello?” His sleep-roughened voice started a hum low in her belly. She put a hand on her stomach.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Bridget? Where are you?”

“Meet me at Gallagher Park in half an hour. I’ve got breakfast.”

She hung up and headed for the park. A good long walk would work off her nerves. He probably wouldn’t come, anyway. Why would he? He barely knew her, and she’d caused him nothing but trouble since they’d met.

But he needed to know where the amber stones were, didn’t he? She needed help, too, and he was the only person she remotely trusted. Well, not trusted exactly, but she didn’t think he’d turn her over to the FBI.

She’d hoped she could count on Claire, but when she’d taken a cab past her brother’s apartment right after she’d left Rafe’s last night, the FBI had been there. She’d slid down in the back seat until the cab had driven a block past Darcy’s place. The cops would know about his apartment, she supposed, and it was a logical place to look for her. And yet…it had seemed…staged. Someone had pointed them in that direction awfully fast. Claire was the only one who knew she’d stopped there and dropped off her luggage on the way to the trade show. She’d spent a miserable hour trying to remember what she’d packed in those bags. Nothing the FBI would be interested in as far as she knew, but the thought of strangers pawing through her personal belongings made her skin crawl.

Seemed to be a lot of that going around lately. She’d found a cheap hotel to stay in but had spent most of the night worrying about bed bugs. All which seemed like a minor issue when she’d caught the local news on the television this morning. She stood, rooted to the spot, bile surging up her throat, as she watched a picture of herself flash on the screen. According to the FBI she was a person of interest, wanted for questioning.

Was that Agent Gage’s attempt to flush her out?
A person of interest
. She’d laughed as she repeated the words, just before she’d started crying.

She massaged her right temple as she strode along, a small, white cardboard box tied with string swinging from her other hand. She’d already cut her hair and dyed it, so she looked nothing like herself. But she couldn’t take the chance of contacting Claire until she had a better sense of what was going on. And Rafe? She knew he had good reason to hate her, but she also knew he wouldn’t hand her over to the FBI without giving her fair warning. Because, God bless his heart, he was one of the good guys, and he didn’t even know it.

Bridget slowed her pace when she reached the park neighborhood and studied the park from a doorway across the street. The June morning promised another scorcher of a day, and there were already a few people walking around the green space. She’d picked that particular spot because there was a subway station only two blocks away, and if she had to, she could get away fast. She checked her watch again. Nine forty-five. There was a good chance Rafe wouldn’t come.

Not that she blamed him. She’d played rough, but only because there was a lot at stake. More than Rafe realized. More than she’d realized. Just as she was about to leave, a cab pulled up in front of her and Rafe got out. Without looking in her direction, he jogged into the park and looked around. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth when she heard him curse as she walked up behind him.

“Did you bring the coffee?” she asked.

He whirled around.

She dropped the small white box when Rafe wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, his lips vibrating against hers. He sounded like he was humming. She started to laugh, and he slipped his tongue into her mouth. Her limbs trembled as she lost herself in his taste and the feel of his mouth against hers.

“Christ, Irish.” He pulled away after a couple of minutes and gulped air. “I’m not going to be responsible for my actions if you keep that up. What the hell did you do to your hair?”

Bridget smiled to herself. Maybe all she’d asked Rafe here for was a kiss. Just being with him made her feel better. Of course once he heard about the person of interest news bulletin, he’d be in a hurry to dump her. “Cut it. Dyed it.”

“I liked the red.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“But…it’s so brown.”

“Get over it. I brought real Parisian croissants.”

“You did not.” They both made a grab for the cardboard box on the ground.

She got to it first and dangled it out of his reach. “I did, but I need my coffee. Come on, I saw a café around the corner.”

“So, what’s going on?” He held open the door to the café for her, and just as she stepped inside, a siren sounded right behind them. She shook her head when Rafe sauntered up to the counter and studied the list of coffee the shop offered. Had her life ever been as simple as his?

“Rafe.” She tried to keep the alarm out of her voice, but he must have heard something because he frowned down at her.

“What’s wrong?”

She glanced around the café, thankful the shop was empty at the moment. Another siren wailed past them. “The cops are here.”

He grew still. “For us?”

For her, anyway. But she couldn’t leave him behind for the FBI to pick over. “Probably.”

“But...shouldn’t I at least check it out? It might have nothing to do with us.”

She caught his bare arm, felt his muscle tense. “If they’re looking for me, they could be looking for you, too. There’s always a back way out of restaurants. We should stick together.”

When he hesitated, she pulled him toward the back of the café, whispering fiercely in his ear. “How do you think they knew to come here? Your phone must be tapped, Rafe. Unless…” She skidded to a stop as her heart sank.

She glanced sideways at him, but the hallway was dark, and it was hard to see what he was thinking. As if scorched, she pulled her hand away from his arm.
Idiot
. She’d been so desperate for someone to be on her side, she’d let her guard down.

“On the other hand, maybe you’re right.” She pushed him back toward the door. “It’s best if you check what’s going on. I’ll wait here.”

He gave her a sardonic look. “You don’t trust anyone, do you?”

“Do you blame me?”

“No. But I’m not sure running is the answer. If we just told them what—”

“Can I help you people?” A young man, who’d just entered from the back alley after obviously indulging in his morning doobie, sauntered toward them.

Bridget spun on her heel toward him. “Yes. My husband, who’s a cop, is outside on the sidewalk, looking for us. We need a back way out of here.”

The guy scratched his head. “The back door leads to the alley.” He looked past them into the street. “If you guys are really in trouble, I guess I could take you across to the receiving door of Mango’s. I know the manager. She’ll open the back door for me.”

“Thanks.” She handed the young man the box of croissants. “Here. Real croissants. Enjoy. Lead the way.”

As they followed the man into the alley, Bridget wondered how the guy could walk with the waistline of his pants drooping close to his knees. Obviously, he’d never had to run from the police.

The guy rang the bell at the back door of a store across the alley, then gave it three more short rings. “We got a code,” he explained as he leaned against the brick wall.

Bridget glanced around the alley, looking for escape routes in case the police found them before the door opened. Rafe stood so close to her, she could feel the heat from his body, and she resisted the urge to lean against him for comfort. No doubt he’d throw himself between her and the cops if it came down to that. She doubted very much that it would.

She should be sorry she’d involved him in her messy life. She wasn’t. Not yet. She hadn’t realized how alone she’d felt until Rafe had shown up.

When a young woman, with three nose piercings and a detailed tattoo around her neck, opened the door, their guy from the coffee shop briefly explained the situation. The woman checked her man-sized watch, glanced around the alley, then nodded as she stepped back to let them in. Bridget stopped long enough to shake the young man’s hand before following Rafe and the woman into the back of the store.

“Think either of them will tell the police anything?” Rafe whispered in her ear as they followed the woman through the store and to the front door.

“I’m not planning on hanging around to find out.”

They stopped by the front door as the woman unlocked it. Bridget couldn’t see any cops outside, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t drive by at any minute. Too bad the store they were in sold only young women’s clothing. With his good looks and designer shirt, Rafe would be noticeable on the street.

When the door was unlocked, the woman glanced shyly at Rafe. “You’re someone famous, aren’t you?”

Bridget watched as his frown was replaced by a stunning smile. “You’re not going to tell on me, are you?”

The woman giggled. “Of course not.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He kissed her on the cheek, then put his hand on Bridget’s back and propelled her out the door.

“You laid it on a little thick, didn’t you,
sweetheart
?” Bridget stared at the pavement as she made her way through the increasing number of people rushing to work, Rafe’s hand still on her back.

“You wouldn’t be jealous, would you, Irish?”

She jerked away. “Yeah, that’s it. Because I have nothing else to worry about at the moment. Step it up, will you?”

“Okay, but maybe you want to tell me what the hell you did this time to bring the cops running?”

He bumped into her when she skidded to a stop. “If you think I’m guilty, why are you here?”

She felt as if he’d stomped on her heart, but she was damned if she was going to let him see how much he’d hurt her. She straightened her shoulders and started walking again. Since when did what Rafe Pascotto think of her matter, anyway?

“Every time I’m around you, the cops turn up. What am I supposed to think?”

“That someone’s doing a very good job of ruining my life.” She increased her pace. “Doesn’t matter. We have to get out of this neighborhood. There’s a subway station just over there.” She pointed to the east.

“Depending on how badly they want to pick you up, they’ll be watching it.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, then twined his long fingers with hers. Was he holding on to her in order to keep up with her or to hold her back?

Bridget grabbed his phone out of his hand and tossed it.

“Hey!” He made a grab for it but missed the phone by a mile as it sailed past him into traffic. “That was a three-hundred-dollar phone.”

“Sorry.” She kept walking. “I’ve heard the cops can use GPS to find you. Anyway, yours was bugged, so…”

“So the cops can trace us from the calls I make?”

“Not anymore. Here, use this disposable. I’ll buy you a new phone later if you like. But right now I need to…contain everything as much as possible.”

“What’s really going on, Bridget?”

She looked away from the concern in his face. “As soon as I figure it out, I’ll let you know. You want the phone or not? We should keep moving.”

Rafe stared at the phone for a few seconds before taking it from her. Bridget listened for a moment to make certain he wasn’t calling the FBI, then let her mind drift as they made their way along the avenue. The increasingly crowded sidewalks made the police’s job a lot harder to find them, and they could dash into a store if they saw a cop car coming. Unless it was an unmarked car. She should have been feeling defeated at this point, but she didn’t. She felt…cautiously optimistic. As if she might have a fighting chance. She wasn’t sure why, because, for sure, Rafe had even less of a clue than she did of how to get out of this mess.

She didn’t even know exactly who had initiated her trouble. Whatever was going on was too sophisticated for Dejarnatt. It had a scope far beyond his own greedy needs.