When I Find You: A Trust No One Novel (17 page)

The warmth in his eyes made her face heat up and she laughed nervously. One of his eyebrows shot up, giving him a decidedly evil expression.

“You think I’m charming, huh?”

“In a Hannibal Lecter sort of way.” She grinned and walked toward the refrigerator to see what else she could throw in the salad.

He snorted a laugh and caught her arm when she tried to go around him. Backed into the counter, he held her there with one hand on each side of her and his body pressing against hers. He kissed her ear, his warm breath sending a shiver through her.

“I could eat you up easy enough.” His lips hovered above hers, then dipped down to feather a kiss across her mouth before he pushed himself back. “Gotta check on the steaks.” He threw her a wink as he turned to go.

Darcy smiled slightly as he left. Her heart pounded, and if the heat in her body was any indication, she was flushed from head to toe. How did he do that to her with just a few words and a kiss? He acted as though he liked being with her. Best not to read too much into that, because in the next breath he might change his mind and push her away again. She liked him . . . way too much, because tomorrow, or the next day, or next week he’d go back to whatever life he left to come find her.

The salad was finished and she carried it to the table, set two places, and cleaned up the mess she’d made on the counter. As she put their wineglasses down by the place settings, the ringing of her phone startled her. The boys’ number came up on the display and she answered eagerly.

“Are you alone, Darcy?”

Recognition hit her so hard she had to remind herself to breathe, but it had to be a mistake. There was no other explanation.

“Who is this . . . Johnny? No . . . that’s not possible. They’re saying you’re dead. I heard the gunshots. Reggie Allen tried to kill me because I saw him.” She wasn’t making any sense, confusion giving voice to the thoughts that swirled in her head.

“It was a con. The Justice Department wanted Frank DeLuca to believe I was dead or, at the very least, missing. Reggie wasn’t trying to hurt you. He was supposed to get you out of the house and someplace safe so DeLuca couldn’t try to get information from you. When you disappeared, we had to come up with another plan.”

“But . . . Reggie had someone try to kill me.” Darcy squeezed her eyes closed and tried to remember every detail from the time she heard the shots fired downstairs. She hadn’t imagined Reggie climbing those stairs or the words he spoke . . .
the girl . . . take her out
.

“It wasn’t Reggie. You can trust him. It had to be someone DeLuca sent. Listen, Darcy. I know you’re confused and frightened. It’s been a long couple days. I’ll explain everything as soon as you get here.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have to get away from that hired gun DeLuca sent to keep an eye on you. He’ll use you to find me. If he finds me, Nick and Eddy could get hurt. You don’t want that to happen, do you?”

What was he saying? He couldn’t mean Walker. Every fiber of her being cried out in denial. Walker wouldn’t lie to her, or use her to find Johnny, and he certainly wouldn’t hurt two defenseless children. Nothing would convince her he was capable of any of that.

“Of course not, but you’re wrong about him.”

Johnny’s voice sounded tired. God only knew what he’d been through. He was being cautious. That was all. She couldn’t blame him for trying to protect his family above all else. Darcy loved them too. She wouldn’t let anyone hurt them. As much as she hated it, concern for Johnny, Gwen, and the boys crept in and gave rise to doubts about Walker.

“You trust me, don’t you? I’d never hurt you. He may be turning on the charm to get you to believe him, but he’s just using you.”

“No . . . no . . . that can’t be right. I don’t understand.” She rubbed her forehead to ease the headache forming behind her eyes. What if it
was
true? Had she put her life, and her trust, in the hands of a monster capable of trading one life for another? Was Walker working for the man who tried to kill Johnny? Anxiety squeezed her throat and she struggled to breathe. If it was true, he wouldn’t let her stand in his way.

“I’ll explain everything later. Listen carefully, Darcy. There’s a bus that leaves Gold Beach every day at eight a.m. headed south. As soon as you can get away from him, get on that bus and call me at this number. I’ll find you. Okay?”

“I . . . I don’t know . . . I need to think.”

“Please, Darcy. It’s important. I can’t protect you unless you follow my instructions. Promise me.”

“I’ll try.” Fragmented thoughts made it hard to concentrate. This impossible phone call frightened her, and the idea that Johnny might be telling the truth about Walker shook her entire world.

“Good. I’ll see you soon.”

The caller was gone, but Darcy couldn’t put the phone down. She continued to stare at it until Walker entered the room and flashed that same mischievous grin he’d left with. It went away immediately and a frown knit his brow as his gaze met hers. He walked toward her and held out his hand for the phone, concern etched on his face.

Now, with him standing right in front of her, his calm assurance handed her a lifeline and the doubts started to recede. She wanted to trust him, but Johnny sounded so sure. Was it possible Walker was trying to worm his way inside her defenses, laughing, smiling, kissing her in a way that made her melt, just so he could use her? Would he kill her once she wasn’t of any use to him anymore? A pain knifed through her heart and her breath caught in a strangled sob. Was there anybody she could trust?

She retreated until her backside hit the kitchen table. Walker kept pace with her, grabbed her wrist, and took the phone, checking the last number logged. “The boys called?”

She shook her head without realizing she had.

“Darcy, who called?”

Should she tell him? If he really was using her, he could probably guess who had called. She worried her lower lip between her teeth as his stormy visage darkened even more. What if he lost it once his charade was revealed? Would this man, who’d just stirred up feelings within her she’d never had before, really hurt her if she didn’t give him what he wanted?

He grabbed both of her elbows and shook her, snapping her gaze up to his. “Who called, Darcy?”

Understanding gray eyes pulled her back from the edge of terror. It simply wasn’t possible Walker would hurt her. True—she didn’t know him well. They’d only just met, but he’d saved her life more than once. Yes . . . an ulterior motive could be manufactured for each incident, but she wasn’t going to go there. She
trusted
Walker. She would give him the benefit of the doubt. The only question he’d asked about her present situation was if she knew who fired the shots in Johnny’s house that night. He hadn’t even pressed for a name . . . until now.

The name stuck in her throat. She couldn’t stand the intensity of his dark eyes anymore, so she concentrated on his green flannel shirt and choked out one word. “Johnny.”

Chapter Nine

C
ONFUSION LEFT
W
ALKER
speechless. He stepped toward her, intending to put his arms around her and ease the fear in her eyes, but she brought her hands up and pushed against him. He got the point and backed off.

“Okay. Take it easy. It’ll be all right.”

“Easy for you to say. You told me he was dead. Well, I just talked to a dead man!” Visibly agitated, she watched him warily. He took his cue from her and backed off farther, which seemed to settle her a little. His first instinct had been right—she was afraid of him. What did the dead man say to her?

“I told you the U.S. marshals assumed he was dead. Are you sure it was Johnny?”

“Of course I’m sure.”

“What did he want?”

Instantly, her expression became guarded.

“He said something to make you stop trusting me, didn’t he? I thought we were past that.” He held his hand out, hoping she’d take it.

She stared at it for a few seconds without moving. “I don’t know what to believe.” Her gaze met his eyes, imploring him to understand.

“We’ll sort it out. Together.” He started to reach for her, then let his hand drop. He did understand. She didn’t trust him and touching her when she clearly didn’t want him to would only make it worse.

He grabbed his cell phone, hit Joe’s number on the speed dial, and started talking as soon as Joe answered. “We’ve got a problem. Any chance Johnny’s death and/or disappearance was staged?” Quickly, he related what he knew, careful not to speculate about what Johnny might have asked her to do.

A few feet away, Darcy’s gaze darted from him to the kitchen door and back again, her arms crossed in front of her. She chewed her lower lip in that nervous habit he’d thought was so damn cute . . . until now. Her high state of anxiety was telling—it meant she wasn’t sharing everything she knew. Johnny had said something that put that look of distrust on her face. As agitated as she was, Walker couldn’t predict how she’d react. Would she calm down and talk it out, or would she run?

“I knew something was wrong,” Joe said. “Somebody knows something they’re not telling me, and I’m going to find out what it is. I’ll get back to you.”

Darcy seemed calmer after he got off the phone. Obviously, whatever Johnny told her introduced doubt into the equation, and her gaze followed Walker wherever he moved. She was no longer sure whose side he was on. It was like the last two days hadn’t happened, and they were standing on the edge of that swollen river again. She was still in danger and still needed him, whether she wanted to accept his help or not, and he was furious with Johnny Fontana for putting her in danger and then driving this wedge between them. The bastard just made it harder for him to do his job. He wanted to hold her and convince her nothing was different between them, however crazy the situation looked at the moment, but she had to come to that conclusion on her own.

He opted for a return to normalcy until he could figure out what was going on. “Our dinner is getting cold.” He gestured to the plate of steaks he’d carried in from the deck. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really—but I could use some more wine.”

Walker picked up her half-full glass and handed it to her before retrieving the steaks and sitting down at the table. He dished up his plate and started to eat as though nothing was wrong, all the time watching her from the corner of his eye. He couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t bolt given the opportunity and, as much as he wanted her to trust him, he couldn’t allow that to happen. He relaxed a little when she sat down at the table. When she started to talk, he drew a relieved breath.

“What’s going on, Walker?”

“I don’t know, but we’re going to find out. You just have to trust me for a little while longer.”

She studied him thoughtfully, as though deciding if that was possible now. After a minute, she sighed and some of the tension left her face.

“Do you want to tell me what he said?”

“He said Reggie Allen and the Justice Department staged the scene at his house so he could disappear, hoping Frank DeLuca would think he was dead. According to Johnny, Reggie wasn’t trying to kill me when he came upstairs that night. He trusts Reggie . . . but apparently he doesn’t trust you.” She met Walker’s gaze. “He said you were using me to get to him.”

Walker raised an eyebrow. “And you believe him?”

“I . . . I was just so shocked to hear his voice.”

“What else did he say?”

“He said I had to get away from you—that he couldn’t protect me if I stayed here.” She glanced at him then dropped her gaze and fumbled with her silverware. After spooning a small amount of salad on her plate, she eyed the hunk of meat that was left and wrinkled her nose. Walker reached out with his knife and fork, cut off a quarter of the steak and moved it onto her plate. She scowled at him like a small child, and he hid a smile.

“I won’t hurt you, Darcy. I think you know that. Johnny’s resurrection is as much a surprise to me as it is to you. By calling you and lying about me, he made it harder for me to keep you alive, and I’m not very happy about that. I’ve got a few questions for him myself. Don’t suppose he’s dropping by anytime soon?” Walker forked up his last bite of steak and pushed his empty plate away.

“He wants me to get on a bus and head south. He said he’d find me.” Darcy toyed with the bits of salad left on her plate and didn’t look at him.

“Is that what you want to do?”

“Would you let me?” She dropped her fork and sat back.

Walker thought about that for a moment, then decided as long as she was being honest, he could do nothing less. “I’d rather not. I’ve gotten kind of used to having you around . . . but if you want to go, I won’t stop you, as long as I’m convinced he’s not going to hurt you.”

“What would you do if you were me?”

“First, I’d ask myself some hard questions. Like—what reason did he have to disappear? Why did he leave the nanny out in the cold, running for her life? Where was he when good old Grant was trying to kill you? Is it possible he ordered the hit? Does he want you to join him now so you can live happily-ever-after with the Fontanas in hiding . . . or is he cleaning up loose ends?” He held her gaze and watched her face pale.

“He wouldn’t . . .”

“Then you need to ask yourself if
I’ve
done anything to hurt you since you met me. My answer hasn’t changed. If I were you, I’d find someone I could trust and stick with him. That was me earlier today. Only you can decide if that’s changed.” He leaned back and waited for her answer—one that didn’t come.

Being the paranoid bastard he was, he’d given her a lot to think about. He was pleased she hadn’t rushed right in to defend Johnny, but then neither had she hurried to assure Walker she still trusted him. When she finished eating, she carried their dirty dishes to the sink, rinsed them, and put them in the dishwasher while he relaxed and nursed his wine, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He hadn’t offered to help because he sensed she needed to keep busy and somehow it seemed unethical to get too close to her until she’d made her decision.