Deadly Pursuit (21 page)

Cole Taylor might be a daunting figure on the job, but he didn't intimidate her one little bit. She could remember him as a skinny ten-year-old who'd decided his Superman cape gave him the power to fly from the garage roof to the deck—ten feet away. Eight stitches later, he'd learned otherwise.

Talk about a dumb stunt.

And if he got huffy with her today, she'd be sure to remind him of that.

“Do you have a hot date or something?” Alison checked on Cole over her shoulder as she pushed the grocery cart through Schnucks. He was trailing behind her, his expression peeved.

“No, I don't have a hot date. But wandering through the aisles of a grocery store isn't my idea of a great Saturday morning. Tell me why we're here again?”

“We've been over this already. When I asked what you had in your refrigerator, all you could come up with was ketchup, American cheese, pickles, and a bag of English muffins. I rest my case.”

“I've got plenty of canned and frozen stuff.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You, dear brother, need to improve your diet. What about salad and fresh vegetables and fruit and eggs?” She selected a bag of grapes and waved them in his direction before depositing them in the cart.

“I eat on the run most of the time. Do I look unhealthy?”

He had her there. Both of her brothers could be poster boys for a health club, despite their spotty diets. She ignored the question.

“Say . . .” His demeanor grew hopeful as he followed her toward the front of the store. “Does this mean you might cook a few meals while you're at my place?”

“I might. But not tonight. I have plans this evening.”

He frowned. “I thought we agreed you'd have an escort for the next few days whenever you went out?”

“I'll have an escort.” She jockeyed her cart into a checkout lane and circled around to the front to begin unloading the groceries. “Mitch is taking me to dinner.”

“Yeah?” Leaning forward, he grabbed some containers of yogurt from the cart and placed them on the conveyor belt. “Where are you going?”

“I didn't ask.”

“When did this come up?”

She shot him an annoyed glance. “What is this, the third degree?”

“Hi, Alison.”

Grateful for the interruption, she turned to find Erik smiling at her from the end of the checkout lane.

She smiled back. “Hi, Erik. I didn't know you worked on Saturday.”

“Sometimes.” He began bagging the groceries. “But you usually come at night. After work.”

“That's right.”

He peered past her, to where Cole was emptying the last of the items from the cart, his head averted. “Is that your boyfriend?”

Alison stifled a laugh. “No. That's my brother.”

“Oh. I guess you have a boyfriend, though, don't you?”

An image of Mitch came to mind, but their relationship was too new to categorize that way. “Not right now.” She dug out her wallet, determined to keep a firm grip on it this time. No more chasing credit cards and photos and change on her hands and knees.

Erik set a filled bag in her cart. “I bet you will soon.”

As he went back to his bagging, Cole leaned toward her and spoke close to her ear. “I'm going to cut out before Erik recognizes me. He was really stressed the night Mitch and I visited him in the group home, and I don't want to upset him again. I'll meet you in front.”

Without waiting for her to respond, he melted back into the store.

Well, how about that? She watched him disappear, impressed for once by his discretion and sensitivity.

Maybe there was hope for him yet.

His plan wasn't jelling.

As Daryl slammed his hand against the kitchen counter, Bev fumbled the bottle of meth she'd just removed from the drawer.

“Watch it, dude! What's with you, anyway?”

He jammed his shaky hands into his pockets. “Nothing.”

“Yeah?” She squinted at him, clearly not buying his denial. “Look, if you got a problem, I got an answer.” She waved the bottle at him.

He wavered. His brain had been fuzzy since he'd started bottoming out from his high. It was possible one more line would help him finish his plan.

Or send him down a road that offered no U-turns.

The old panicked feeling of being caught in front of a train overwhelmed him yet again. What was with that, anyway? He'd hardly ever had it in the slammer, and now it was slapping him in the face every day. Sometimes several times a day.

Grabbing Bev's keys from the counter, he headed for the door. “I need to take a ride.”

“You want some company?” She wandered after him. “I don't know where Chuck went, and it's kinda lonely here.”

“No.” He motioned to the jar in her hand. “Save me some, okay?” Just in case.

“Sure.”

As he stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine, he blinked against the glare. He'd been holed up in the trailer all day, and the dirty, shaded windows hadn't even hinted at the brightness outside.

Shoving on his sunglasses, he trudged toward Bev's car, no destination in mind. All he knew was that he had to get away from this place for a while. Before he succumbed to the lure of the meth. He'd come too close a few minutes ago.

He knew why too. The plan he'd concocted for Alison Taylor when he'd been high had buoyed him up. Made him feel powerful and in charge. But as he'd begun to crash, his confidence had wavered. Doubt had begun to undermine his conviction that he could pull it off. He'd messed up everything he'd ever tried. Why should this be any different?

If he didn't try, though, she'd win.

That didn't sit well with him either.

He slid into the car. What he needed to do was get himself all riled up again. That would boost his determination.

And all at once he knew exactly how to do that.

Shifting into gear, he bumped down the rutted, gravel driveway and aimed the car toward St. Louis.

“That was a fabulous dinner. Thank you.”

As Alison smiled at him across the snowy expanse of white linen, Mitch was glad he'd opted for the high-end Italian restaurant on The Hill. It was quiet, elegant—and far safer than a sidewalk café in the Central West End, charming as those were. From his seat, he had an excellent view of the entire room and the doorway to the lobby. They were steps away from a fire exit. They could be out of here in seconds, if necessary. The favorable setup allowed him to focus on his lovely companion rather than security concerns.

“Would you like some dessert?”

She groaned. “I can't eat another bite.”

“Coffee?”

“I usually drink tea, but coffee does sound appealing tonight.”

He signaled to the waiter, and two minutes later they both had steaming cups in front of them. When Alison added two packets of sugar and a very generous dollop of cream to hers, Mitch's lips twitched.

She caught his reaction and stopped stirring. “What?”

“Maybe you should have ordered a mocha.”

“Very funny.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “You sound like my brothers again.”

After her trauma with Bert, he hadn't expected her to be in the best of moods tonight. But she'd surprised him. While she was more subdued than usual, she'd responded to his light banter throughout the meal. He'd even managed to elicit a few quiet laughs.

“I thought we'd gotten past the brother thing.”

She smiled at him over the rim of her cup as she brought it to her lips. “We have.” Setting the cup back in its saucer, she grew more serious. “I appreciate all the effort you went to tonight to give me a pleasant evening.”

“It was no effort.” He reached across the table and captured her fingers in his. They felt small and delicate and vulnerable—an impression that did nothing for his peace of mind, considering bingo man was still on the loose. “I hope we can have a lot more evenings like this in the future.”

“I hope so too.”

She met his gaze, responding to his comment with a sweet, simple honesty that touched his heart. He was quickly learning that unlike many of the women who'd sought his attention through the years, Alison Taylor didn't play games. You knew where you stood with her at every moment. He found that refreshing. And very, very appealing.

Stroking his thumb over the back of her hand, he decided to be just as candid. “You know, you're different from any woman I've ever met.”

She studied him, a flicker of uncertainty shadowing her blue irises. “Is that good or bad?”

“Good. In every way.”

The shadow vanished, and she looked down at their entwined hands, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I ran into Erik Campbell today at the grocery store.”

“Did you?” It was an odd subject to introduce, but Mitch knew Alison had a reason for bringing it up. She wasn't given to non sequiturs. He waited while she ran her fingernail around the base of her stemmed water glass.

“He asked me if I had a boyfriend.”

Now he got the connection. “What did you tell him?”

She transferred her attention to him again. “I said no.”

His spirits nose-dived.

“I figured it was too soon to say yes, since we've only known each other for a couple of weeks. But can I tell you something? Even in this short time, I've realized that what I had with David would never have led to the connection I already feel with you.” She moistened her lips, telling him she was nervous. Yet she didn't break eye contact. “I hope this doesn't scare you off, because I'm not suggesting we speed things up. But I'm hopeful at some point down the road,
boyfriend
might be the perfect way to describe you.”

His mood took a decided uptick.

“Can I tell
you
something? That doesn't scare me off in the least. Just the opposite.”

Soft color suffused her cheeks, and she lifted her cup of coffee in a salute. “Given all the rough spots we've encountered in our short acquaintance, shall we toast to happier tomorrows?”

He picked up his cup and clinked it against her. “I'll drink to that.”

And as he sipped his coffee, his fingers still entwined with hers, he realized that despite the trauma that had marred their relationship so far, his life was already happier than it had been in a long, long time.

But it would be even happier once they got rid of the stalker who was tormenting Alison and giving him a chronic case of insomnia.