Hiding From Danger (Danger Incorporated Book 2) (5 page)

He’d work himself up into a righteous fury by the time he pulled into the parking lot and saw her standing by her sad little economy car. She was stuffing a battered suitcase into the hatchback and he didn’t stop to think about the wisdom of his actions. He threw the truck into park and hopped out, stomping up so he was inches from her and looking down into her stricken gaze.

“West,” she said faintly, as if she was shocked to see him here and didn’t know what to say.

He pointed to her suitcase, his hand shaking slightly, struggling to keep a cap on his emotions. “Going somewhere? Karla said you didn’t show up and didn’t call. She thinks you’re so sick you can’t make it to a goddamn telephone.”

Gigi’s skin went pink and then turned pale, her throat bobbing as she swallowed hard. “I feel badly that I didn’t call her. I hope you’ll tell her I’m okay.”

West wasn’t going to tell Karla a thing. “If you want Karla to know something you’ll need to tell her yourself. I’m not about to make this easier for you, babe. I just want to ask you one thing. One question. Did you ever give a single fuck about me or was this all just a game to you?”

Her lips trembled and her eyes were bright with tears, but her obvious remorse did nothing to assuage his anger. She’d been planning to leave without a damn word.

“Don’t make this harder than it is–”

“Fuck that,” West scoffed. “It doesn’t look like very hard to me. You screw me all night long then grab a quick nap before packing your shit and hitting the road. Easy as pie from where I’m standing.”

A tear rolled down her cheek and she brushed it away with the back of her hand. “I don’t expect you to believe me but none of this has been easy least of all leaving today. But I have to go. I don’t have any choice.” She looked up at him and placed her hands on his chest. “And none of this was a game. I do…care about you, West. More than anyone in a very long time. But that doesn’t change why I have to go. I’m so sorry.”

West jerked away from her touch. “Bullshit. No one is running you out of town. You’re leaving of your own free will and by God I want to know why. What’s so scary that you have to run from town to town?”

He paced a few steps and then turned back so they were practically nose to nose, more tears dampening her cheeks now.

“Goddammit I’ve been patient, waiting for you to let me in but my patience has come to its end. I’m tired of the secrets, the subterfuge, and the avoidance of anything personal. I’m tired of playing the sweet, understanding suitor. You’ve pushed me too far, babe, and the bill has come due. You’re going to march your sweet little ass back up those stairs and we’re going to sit down. Then you’re going to tell me what…in…the…hell…is…going…on. Are you dying? Are you a CIA spy? Are you on the run from the law? What the fuck?”

Gigi buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as more tears fell. This time West couldn’t remain unaffected by the anguish pouring off of the woman he cared so deeply about. With a muttered oath, he hauled her into his arms and stroked her hair, speaking in soothing tones that everything was going to be alright.

Of course he had no idea if that was true but it sounded good right now. He let her cry it out for several minutes, his shirt front sodden. She hiccupped a few times and then pulled away slightly so she was looking up into his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I don’t cry very often.”

West hadn’t known Gigi long but he had a feeling truer words were never spoken. “I think maybe those tears have been building for awhile, babe. Can we go upstairs now so you can tell me what’s going on here and why you were leaving in secret?”

She hesitated for a moment and then nodded wearily. “Okay, but you won’t change my mind. I really am going. I have to.”

West slammed the hatchback on her vehicle closed. “Fine. Let’s go upstairs. I haven’t had near enough coffee for this.”

They walked slowly back to Gigi’s apartment and he settled her on the couch. There were a few boxes stacked up by the door that she hadn’t had a chance to load into the car and he was once again slapped in the face by how few possessions she owned. He should have known she’d try something like this. Anger at himself clenched in his gut and he had to swallow against the acid that had crawled up into his throat.

“I’m going to make us some coffee and then you’re going to tell me the truth. Finally.”

She pointed to a box on the floor. “All the non-perishable food is packed up. I was going to drop it at my neighbor’s door on the way out. The coffeemaker is in the other box.”

Muttering under his breath, he retrieved the coffee and started a pot. The aroma of French roast beginning to fill the air in the small apartment. Leaving it to finish, he sat down across from her on the faded ottoman, his elbows on his knees, marshaling every ounce of patience he had. If he pushed too hard, she’d stubbornly clam up and that would just piss him off even more. They didn’t need this conversation to go down that death spiral.

“So why were you leaving?”

Gigi’s teeth sunk deeply into her bottom lip and her hands visibly shook. With fear? What did she have to be afraid of? Not him, surely?

“I–I can’t stay. I’m looking for my brother and sister. I think I have a lead on Zach. He might be in Las Vegas so I’m going there.”

It was the first personal thing she’d ever told him and he breathed easier that she hadn’t tried to tell him a big fat lie. From her stormy expression it was clear she was being truthful, and it hurt.

“How did you come to be separated from your siblings?” He hoped asking a small question might prod more personal revelations but it also might backfire spectacularly.

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

West’s gripped the edge of the ottoman careful to keep his tone even and controlled. “I understand that it might be painful to talk about. How about I ask another question? Is that why you’ve moved around so often? To find your siblings?”

More tears filled her eyes and she shook her head. “No…well…part of it. It’s hard to explain.”

“I’ve got all day. I’m not going anywhere.”

Gigi twisted her fingers together so tightly the knuckles turned white. “I’m not sure I can tell you. I’ve never told anyone.”

“I’m not just anyone, babe. And maybe it’s time you told someone.” He took a stab in the dark, terrified of the answer. “Are you wanted for a crime? Because if you are I can help you. I won’t judge you, Gigi. You can tell me and I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Oh my God no.” Her astonishment was real and he breathed a silent sigh of relief. “I’m not wanted by the police. I’m wanted by a man.”

West leaned forward and captured her hands, holding them in his own. “What man? Who wants you?”

“Alan. Alan Morton. I can’t let him find me. I won’t let him.” Her voice had gone up and he had to slide his hands up her arms to her shoulders to keep her focus on him.

“Then we won’t let him. What does he want from you?”

West had been a cop for a damn long time and he’d heard enough statements from frightened women to be able to have an idea of what was coming next. A lump lodged in his throat making it hard to speak or breathe as she somehow found the courage to answer.

Gigi looked down at her worn tennis shoes before looking back up at him, real terror in those brown eyes.

“He wants me. And if he can’t have me, he wants me dead.”

‡

G
igi had said
the words aloud.

The first time she ever had to another living being. She hadn’t wanted to bring anyone else into the complete and total mess that was her life but West’s confrontation had changed everything. Stubborn and…so damn bossy he’d got in her face and clearly wasn’t leaving until he heard the entire story. For a moment she’d thought to lie but then there had been little point. He was on to her and being the detective that he was she doubted he’d give up before she bared her very soul.

“I think you’d better start from the beginning,” West released her hands and came to sit next to her on the couch, the coffee forgotten. “Who is Alan Morton?”

She could answer that question but it wasn’t the beginning of the story. “It all started long before I met Alan.”

“When did it start?”

She stood and walked over to the living room windows and stared sightlessly outside, barely aware of the sunny autumn day. When she’d woke this morning after only a few hours’ sleep the only thing she’d thought about was getting on the road and finding Zach. Now she was revealing secrets she’d planned to take to her grave.

“My mother had a drinking problem. A bad one. I don’t have too many memories of her sober actually. The few that I do were wonderful but those days were few and far between.”

She waited for his response. Revulsion? Pity? When he didn’t say anything she continued.

“My older brother Zachary took care of us. Made sure we ate what little food was in the house and got us up in the morning for school. He was a stickler for brushing our teeth and washing behind our ears.”

“We?” West prompted. “You have another brother or sister besides Zachary?”

“Aubrey. She’s two years younger than I am. Zachary was five years older. I still remember the last time I saw them. It was the day my mother wrapped the car around a tree and died. Social Services came to get us and put us in foster care. I never saw them again. I asked every day and my foster family always said ‘tomorrow.’ But it never happened. As soon as I turned eighteen I started looking for them.”

“Jesus, how old were you?” West came to stand behind her pulling her back against his strong frame. She couldn’t allow herself the luxury of being weak though. She jerked out of his arms and went to the coffee pot, pouring two mugs.

“Eight. It wasn’t like you’re thinking. The foster family I finally ended up with was actually pretty nice. I have no horror stories of neglect or abuse. They just weren’t my family and I was always aware of that. They’d had foster kids before me and they would have more when I left. They send Christmas cards though.”

At least they had before she’d disappeared out of Chicago. The Warner family were lovely people and they’d done their best with a house full of dysfunctional children who often acted out their troubled psyches, but it had been more of a group home than anything. Gigi had fond memories of Karen and Stan but she’d never made the mistake of thinking they were mom and dad.

“What about your father?”

Gigi shrugged. “What about him? I’ve never met him and at this point I don’t want to even if I knew where he was. My mother didn’t have any other family, at least none that I know of. I assume the state would have tried to send us to them if they existed.”

West’s hands were wrapped around the mug, the knuckles white. Clearly he hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said he was at the end of his patience with her. But telling this story after so many years of keeping it hidden wasn’t exactly easy.

“So you left your foster family when you turned eighteen. Is that how you met this Alan guy?”

“I didn’t meet Alan for quite awhile. I was too busy trying to make ends meet. I worked every crappy job you can imagine from waitress, to hotel maid, to fast food clerk. They all sucked but they paid the bills. When I met Alan I was working nights as a cocktail waitress. He was there with some friends. I later found out they were his employees. He didn’t have many friends and certainly no close ones.”

“Employees? He ran a business?”

“A very successful business. He owns several nightclubs in the Chicago area.”

“Sounds…glamorous, I guess. So then what?”

“He was charming. He asked me out and he treated me really well. He took me to fancy restaurants and bought me presents. I was overwhelmed honestly. No one had ever treated me that way. He swept me off of my feet.”

Young, dumb, and impressionable, Gigi had fallen like a ton of bricks.

“But things changed?”

“I’d ignored all the red flags. He liked to choose my clothes and shoes. He wanted to know what my schedule was every day. He had to be in complete control at all times. I hadn’t had anyone in my life pay that much attention to me. I thought that meant he loved me. It was only later that I saw it for what it was. He used to call me ‘doll’ and that’s what he truly wanted. He wanted someone he could dress up and show off but then put back on a shelf for days or weeks at a time. He was constantly harping at me about my safety. He thought there was danger around every corner.”

West slammed the mug down on the counter and began to pace the tiny space. “Did he hurt you? Tell me the truth, Gigi.”

“Some hurts aren’t physical.”

The wounds that Alan had inflicted had been deeply psychological. It was only in the last two years that she’d been on her own that she could see him for what he was and what he’d done. He’d turned her into an emotional cripple dependent on his approval for every little thing.

“I’ll still kill the bastard,” West vowed, his hands curled into fists, his green eyes cold and flat. The man in front of her was a far cry from the playful, tender lover she’d seen up until now. This man was the soldier turned cop underneath, stripped raw of his every day civilized veneer.