Hide and Seek (3 page)

"I'll sit with my son.”

Caprice sat next to Shawn and encouraged him to draw. It made sense that the last four days had rocked his world. Shawn couldn’t concentrate to form a simple picture. Instead, he scribbled, enjoying colors on the paper.

The vehicle lurched forward. Its tires ground the roadside gravel, and within seconds they were on the interstate.

She gathered the newspapers and scanned the Florida headlines. There was nothing concerning a West Virginia politician, but there were several articles detailing Hurricane Esmeralda’s sweeping destruction across the Virginia lowlands. Her fingers smoothed the closed lap top. How tempted she was to open it. She needed to check her e-mail and reassure her influential and temperamental clients that she was still committed to the murals she had been contracted to paint.

From her vantage point, Caprice studied Holt’s back. Like a sooty river, his hair was secured at its nape with a leather strip, the length brushing the tops of massive shoulder blades.

Holt’s big hands gripped the steering wheel. He glanced at his gold wristwatch and the movement captured her attention. His forearms were tanned and corded. He was also gruff and hard-talking, so had he ever used his strength against a woman? She shivered and rubbed her wrist.

In her peripheral, a glossy black car sailed past. Inhaling sharply, she pressed her back to the cushions, away from the window.

For pity sake, Caprice! Stay calm
.

Absently, she ran her thumb across the edges of her fingernails. She dreaded, yet respected Alan's power. Within a few short hours after discovering her cozy townhouse had been searched, she and Shawn had fled West Virginia. It had been impossible to keep a scheduled meeting with Agent Lyons.

She discovered Holt watching her in the rear view mirror. "Where are you from? Tennessee?"

"No. Charleston." Inwardly, she cringed. She shouldn't have answered so honestly. The less Holt knew concerning their circumstances, the safer for herself and Shawn.

"Charleston, South Carolina?"

“Yes.” Relieved to have misled him, she gestured to the newspapers. “Apparently you’re from Florida.”

“Born and raised.”

Caprice grimaced. Florida was the last place she would ever visit. Hadn’t she read about cigar-sized roaches and stagnant swamp waters teeming with alligators, leeches, ells, and slit-eyed moccasins? Granted, she could gut and fillet a trout with a few swift flicks of her knife, but slithering reptiles or snake-like amphibians made her lose all rational thought.

"Why are you going to Richmond?" Caprice asked. "Virginia’s Governor Wilson declared the lowlands a disaster."

"My father lives there. He’s desperate for supplies.”

"Poor man,” she said. “Those folks are in a terrible mess."

"The James River overflowed, so Dad’s basement flooded. I’m bringing a water pump and a generator.”

By their own volition, the muscles in her face relaxed. Her reservations about Holt diminished slightly. After all, he was bringing much needed supplies to a loved one. "You're a good son."

His chuckle reverberated from deep in his chest and called to a primitive need inside her. She gave her head a quick shake and dismissed the thought. Surely she was overwrought, her thinking irrational.

"The health department issued a boil-water order,” he said, “but I don't trust my father to stop long enough to consider his well-being. I have bottled water too.”

More and more signs soon directed them to the airport and relief filled her, but once again Holt's piercing regard reflected in the mirror. "You owe me some answers."

He had a point. After all, she had trespassed, stolen his food, attacked him with Shawn’s conch, and she had lied. She had committed enough offenses to send her to the confessional. On the other hand, she would do anything to protect Shawn. Her fists clenched, and her blood heated. Alan had used that knowledge to his advantage.

She exhaled. "All right then. One question."

"Who's Alan?"

"My ex."

"If you’re divorced, why is he after you? Unless this is a custody battle. If that’s the case, I can’t, and never will, condone a woman taking a child from his or her rightful father.”

Despite the passion of his convictions, she simmered. “Mister, you don’t know Alan. And, you’re clueless about what my son and I have been through for the last four days on the road.” She met the challenge in his gaze with one of her own. "Besides, we agreed on one question."

"Lady, that was you talking.”

“Alan has political ambitions,” she admitted. “Having me and Shawn at his side will give him a family-man image and will raise his chances at the polls in November."

It was the truth in part, but she didn’t owe Holt anymore explanations. She needed him to transport her and Shawn to the airport. He was an end to a means. Caprice studied the expanse of curving highway, the median heavily planted with orange and yellow day lilies. Just ahead, signs directed the driver closer to the airport.

Occasionally she found Holt observing her from the driver’s mirror. His thick brows were jammed with accusatory questions. It was evident that he didn’t trust her.

She fought exhaustion and rubbed her forehead. For their sakes, she needed to keep her wits. West Virginia exalted Alan Montero. He had powerful allies here and abroad who would benefit from his rise to power, but she couldn't allow that to happen. Once they arrived at her sister's and Shawn was safe, she would make her scheduled meeting with Agent Lyons.

Yet, fear had a way of making her heart race. What if Alan caught them before she could get the planner to Agent Lyons? If she met with an unfortunate accident, what would happen to Shawn? Aware her thoughts were taking an unproductive turn, she concentrated on her next move, and that was to charter a flight.

Soon a large billboard welcomed them to RDU. Holt followed the airport’s posted directions to ticketing. When he stopped at the curb, Caprice stood. Like the slashing, jagged lines on a picture, tension stabbed and resumed its place in her chest. She hiked the duffle’s strap onto her shoulder and studied Holt’s gray eyes, his bearded visage.

"Thanks, again. Sorry for all the trouble."

Despite his gruffness, Holt had unwittingly afforded her a brief reprieve and a haven for Shawn. When she extended her hand, he engulfed hers with his, and for a stolen second in time, a current tingled, racing between them.

Guilt made her reverse one lie. "By the way, my name is Caprice. And that's the truth."

"Caprice." His rumbling tone had a soothing effect that made her want to tarry and discover what thoughts and expressions lay behind his beard-shield.

“And, I’m truly sorry about your eye.”

“Lady, this time I actually believe you.”

Outside the motorhome, the sun blazed, scorching her scalp. Exhaust fumes clogged the muggy air. People pulling their luggage passed from every direction. Shawn turned to study the bustling activity. An incoming jet reversed thrust on the runway. When his eyes widened, she smiled. No doubt, he had heard the tremendous sound and felt the vibrations from powerful, air-shaking engines.

A uniformed porter drew nearer with a squeaky baggage cart, but she clutched Shawn's hand and headed for the terminal. If she could charter a flight, they might still reach Grace's house by nightfall. And in two days, Caprice was confident she would make her meeting with Agent Lyons.

****

Holt watched Caprice’s jeans cling to a small rear and long, racehorse legs as they stepped into the crowded terminal. He should be singing his relief, but he couldn't bring himself to hum a note.

He rubbed his bad shoulder convinced there was more to Caprice's story, but her problems weren't his to juggle. Once he arrived in Virginia, he would assess the structural damage to his father’s house. Afterwards, he would convince Jack to leave Esmeralda's chaos behind and return to the ranch's peaceful seclusion.

Slipping his vehicle into airport traffic, Holt wished Caprice good luck. She had been a woman on a mission, and her son was cute.

Holt signaled to change lanes when two black Cadillac sedans shot out from a minor road. He slammed the brakes. Tires screeched, and his vehicle swerved. The unwashed dishes in the metal sink clattered, and something fell inside a high cupboard.

Holt swore as the cars sped away, but not before he read ALAN AIM-High on one of the West Virginia license plates.

Chapter Two

A nagging urgency to warn Caprice pumped Holt’s blood. Another thought took hold, and his fist slammed the wheel. He’d been duped. That evasive siren with the killer green eyes and syrupy, heart-of-the-South accent came from West Virginia...more specifically, Charleston. Although he was unfamiliar with that state's politics, something rang ominously true concerning her ex-husband's political ambitions.

Drumming his fingers on the wheel, Holt waited for a break in traffic. Damned cumbersome, the thirty-two foot Freelander had been designed for highway cruising, not airport congestion. He followed several color-coded signs, parked then rode a tram to the air-conditioned terminal. As his boot heels thudded the gray carpeting, doubts crowded his thinking. Had he overreacted? Was this just a nasty child custody suit?

Meanwhile, he berated himself. His father needed him in Richmond. Instead, he was in a bustling airport, searching for a secretive woman on the run. He scanned the crowds and soon saw Caprice exiting a Hertz office. Hadn’t she insisted she would charter a flight?

The woman was unpredictable and a first-class liar.

His lips clamped as her fingers tightened on Shawn's hand. The over-sized red sack hung from Caprice’s narrow shoulder and bumped her hip. A set of car keys jangled from her free hand.

As if she sensed she was being followed, Caprice continued at a quick pace. A tall, lanky man in a charcoal suit tossed a newspaper aside, shoved away from a wall, and approached her. Caprice pivoted to avoid him, but the man gripped her nape, burying his spindly fingers in her thick hair. His arm flexed and he forced her onto an ascending escalator.

White as his bleached conch shell, Shawn looked up at his mother. Holt’s blood boiled. He lengthened his strides and stepped onto the escalator. Was this suit her ex? No matter. Something bad was going down.

When the three arrived at the next floor, Holt swiftly climbed the escalator’s steps to close the distance. He bumped the shoulder of a woman in a clinging purple dress, and she released a startled gasp. He stepped off the escalator and reached to clamp down on the suit’s shoulder. "Release her, bud."

When Caprice spun free, the man reached for Shawn, but with a swiftness that Holt had already encountered, Caprice swung the duffle at the man’s narrow face. A crack sounded, a broken bone. The suit released Shawn to favor his affronted nose.

"Tuilli! Pog no thoin!”

Holt couldn’t place the strange words, but Caprice’s eyes glittered green fire. “Tell Alan, I will do everything in my power to road bowl his ass into a federal prison.”

The thug lunged for Caprice, but Holt was faster. He caught the guy’s arm, twisting it behind his back. Holt slammed him against the wall and air gushed from the man’s lungs.

A woman’s scream pierced the air. “Security! Someone call security!”

Holt tossed Caprice his keys. "Get to the motorhome.”

She gripped Shawn's upper arm. "Where?"

"Park-n-Ride, number four. Go!"

Caprice and Shawn disappeared among the gathering on-lookers. Determined to get some answers before security arrived, Holt crushed the suit’s face to the wall. “I’ve easily dropped fifteen-hundred pound bulls onto their sides and castrated them. Unless you talk, I’m fixin’ to permanently alter the way you piss.
Comprende
?”

The suit nodded and his mouth gapped like a freshly hooked bass.

Holt inhaled. “Why is her ex after her?”

“I don’t ask questions. He’s the boss.”

“Security!” a woman hollered. “Over here! Quick!”

As two uniformed officers in light blue shirts sprinted in their direction, Holt wrenched his arm. “Liar. Is he after the boy?”

“No.” Blood dripped in a steady stream from his nose and over his lips. “Caprice has…has the plan…”

“Plan? You mean plans? Plans for what?” Holt demanded as a lean, gray-haired officer arrived.

"All right, boys! What’s going on here?”

"This pig threatened my wife and child," Holt snapped, maintaining his hold. "She's hysterical."

The guy shook his head. “No. He's ly...” Holt yanked, and the suit’s knees buckled.

The blond in the purple dressed stepped from the gathering crowd, and Holt became the recipient of her beaming approval. “What he says is true, Officer. I saw everything." As more security arrived, she pointed at the suit. "He tried to kidnap this man’s beautiful wife and their son.”

Someone gasped. “Look! There’s a pistol strapped to his ankle!”

Every available security officer tackled the suit.

The senior lawman regarded Holt. "You’d better look after your family. Your wife can file a report."

Remaining dead pan, Holt nodded. “Thanks. I’ll go get her."

Holt dodged the crowds at a clip. Near baggage pick-up, he shoved the glass doors open, and collided into a sandy-haired man of similar build to his own. Holt gripped the man’s arms to steady him. “Sorry, pal.”

“No problem, but watch out.” The man chuckled. “At this rate, someone could get hurt.”

At the camper, Holt opened a storage bin and snatched out a set of spare keys. Once he was inside the unit, a hitched breath sounded from his bedroom. Caprice stood peering through the window, holding Shawn’s hand.

Armor barked and swung his tail so hard he lost his balance. Holt stroked the shepherd's back as he eyed Caprice. “Did that jerk hurt you?”

“No.” Her eyes narrowed. “But dammit! I just plopped down money for a rental car that I can't use."

"What happened to your chartered flight?”

“Too expensive.” She dropped the clattering collection of keys into his open palm. “Until I can get to a bank, my cash is limited.”