In Plain Sight (Stolen Hearts) (16 page)

Chapter Nine

Bridget could barely restrain herself from breaking into a run as she exited the building holding onto Marianne’s arm.

“There’s the cab. Slow down, dear. If someone’s watching the building, you’ll draw their attention. You never did tell me what kind of trouble you’re in.”

Bridget supposed Marianne’s chatter was supposed to distract her, but she didn’t want to be distracted. She wanted to get the hell out of here. Now. All her Spidey senses were on high alert. If they got in the cab and drove away without someone snatching her, it was going to be a miracle. And now, somehow, she’d involved yet another innocent person.

She’d tried to discourage Marianne from coming with her, but Marianne argued that they were looking for a woman and a man, so two women would add to the charade. Bridget hadn’t recognized herself in the mirror after Marianne had gotten through with her. She stretched her eyes wide open, afraid her lids would stick together from the layers of mascara her new friend had applied.

She let out a pent-up breath when they reached the back door of the cab.

“You first, dear.” Marianne stepped to one side. “If you have to take off in a hurry, don’t worry about leaving me behind.”

Bridget resisted the urge to check out the street as she slipped into the back seat. Marianne followed and the cab took off.

“That went well.”

“Yeah.” She glanced over her shoulder. Three cars pulled out of parking spaces at the same time. Crap.

“Where to today, Mrs. Morrison?”

“To the Tja. We’re going for high tea today. My treat, dear.” She squeezed Bridget’s hand.

This was a caper for Marianne. What had she called it? High jinks. At the end, she got to go home, put her feet up and watch her favorite TV show. Which Bridget had learned was
Dancing With the Stars
.

Did Rafe feel the same way? That helping her was an adventure he would safely put behind him in a couple of weeks? She knew going to Sophie was the right thing for him to do, but damn if a part of her hadn’t felt betrayed. Which was ridiculous, because she’d already been scheming how to dump him. She needed to be free without any encumbrances for the next part.

The hollow feeling in her stomach was nerves, that’s all. She had a lot of hoops to jump through in the next two hours to guarantee her freedom. First tea, then shopping, and then finally she’d be able to walk away without anyone giving her a second glance.

***

“Don’t gulp your tea,” Marianne chided her. “We’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves. Most of us who come here for tea milk it for everything we can. Because when we leave we go back to our empty homes.”

Bridget placed the delicate teacup in its saucer. “Is that why you jumped on board to help us?”

“That, and because of that gorgeous hunk of a man who has finally fallen in love.” Marianne twinkled at her. “I’ve known Rafe for two years, and I’d thought he didn’t have it in him to love someone else. I was wrong.”

“Love’s a big word.”

“He’s in love with you, Bridget. Don’t use him for your own ends then cast him aside. He’ll never recover.”

Okay, wearing a wig and old-lady clothes was one thing. Suffering through an hour of having tea she could almost handle. But now she felt as if she’d fallen into a soap opera. She wasn’t using Rafe for her “own ends”, for God’s sake. And she had no plans to cast him aside. She just needed time to accomplish what she had to do. She planned to contact him once her life was her own again.

And if she didn’t, well, Rafe was an adult. He’d handle it. He had to beat women off as it was. What difference did it make if one woman disappeared from his life? It would be better for him if she did, wouldn’t it? Or was that better for her?

She knew she had trust issues, but they hadn’t interfered with her life in a significant way. To be honest, she’d never allowed herself to consider having a serious relationship. That was something that would happen in the future. The distant future.

“Time for the next stage. Hop to it. Let’s go.” Marianne stood and strode to the restrooms at the back of the dining area.

Bridget grabbed the large needlepoint bag that contained her jeans and sneakers and hurried after her. The next stage, which Marianne had concocted, was to exchange outfits, so when they emerged from the restaurant, Marianne would be wearing her pantsuit , and she’d have on Marianne’s green satin outfit and turban. They’d go to a department store, shop, and at some point, Bridget would go into a dressing room and come out a young woman.

Marianne insisted that by taking their time, if anyone was following them, they’d give up from sheer boredom. Bridget was about to give up for the same reason. She had places to go, things to do, and she was wasting time, sipping tea and wondering if she would break Rafe’s heart if he never saw her again. She had to stop thinking about him.

Forty-five long minutes later, Bridget strode out of the department store, alone and free. She wore jeans, a dark T-shirt, a cap and sunglasses. She caught a taxi, got out a few blocks away, caught a bus and thought about how Rafe had done the very same thing at the crack of dawn because he couldn’t stay away.

Darn it. She slumped against the window beside her. Marianne was right. Rafe was in love with her, and she was going to break his heart.

It couldn’t be helped. She didn’t see any other way out of the situation. Maybe someday she’d be free to live a normal life. She had to stop thinking about Rafe or she’d start crying. She’d give anything to have him beside her right now.

She hopped off the bus and walked the last few blocks to the train station. Hopefully her equipment had arrived from France, and she could get to work. Armand was running out of patience with her.

***

Rafe told the cabbie to let him out a couple of blocks before the hospital in front of a Best Buy. He ran in and purchased a throwaway cell phone, waited for the clerk to enter thirty dollars of credit for him, then trotted the last two blocks to the hospital.

He checked with Admissions, but Sophie hadn’t arrived yet. He called her on his new cell. She was ten minutes away and sounded relieved that he was waiting for her. He went inside to find a wheelchair, wheeled it out and sat in it as he waited for her by the curb. What did it mean that he had to struggle to leave Bridget? She was in a tight spot, too, but Sophie was almost seven months pregnant. His sister needed him, and here he was, waiting for her.

He didn’t really want to fall in love with Bridget. Yeah, he admired her. He loved…liked how gutsy she was. And smart. Sexy beyond reason. Thinking about her was making him hard. He was sitting in a frigging wheelchair, waiting for his pregnant sister, and his dick wanted to come out and play. Hell, he was sunk and gone, wasn’t he?

Sophie’s cab pulled up in front of him and all thoughts of Bridget disappeared when she caught sight of him and burst into tears.

“Oh my God, Rafe! What happened to you?”

Irish happened to him. Turned his life upside down. “It’s a long story. First things first. Let’s get you in to see a doctor. How are you feeling?”

She hiccupped and sucked back a sob. “Better now that you’re here.”

“Have a seat. We’ll get you settled, and then I’ll start calling around to see if I can find Gage.”

There was a lull in the emergency room and half an hour later, Rafe helped Sophie onto a bed after the nurse had pulled the curtain around the cubicle.

“Have you eaten? Are you hungry?” He brushed her hair off her face.

“Um…maybe I had breakfast.”

He hated to hear the wobble in her voice.

“I’ll run up to the cafeteria and grab some yogurt and fruit. How’s that sound? You’ve got to eat, sis. Miranda won’t stand not having supper.”

A smile crept across her face. “Miranda, huh?”

“Be back in a minute. Promise.”

“Rafe?”

He turned back to her. “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I know. Love you, too.”

He took the elevator to the cafeteria on the fifth floor and put yogurt, an apple, a muffin, juice and whatever he thought might tempt Sophie’s appetite on a tray. After he paid, he flipped open his phone and dialed Gage’s personal number that Sophie had given him, let it ring until a disinterested voice informed him the owner was not available. He cursed Gage for the hundredth time, dialed information and asked for DeMarco’s home number. His wife answered, and when Rafe explained to her why he was trying to locate Gage, she promised to call Nick and pass the message along. She also gave him the main number for the FBI, and DeMarco’s extension so Rafe could leave a message there.

After leaving a message at DeMarco’s work number, he returned to Sophie’s cubicle. The doctor was examining her, so he handed the tray of food to the nurse and went to the waiting room. The smell and the desperate feeling that clung to everything in the hospital made him feel sick. Caught in their own world of misery, no one looked at anyone else. He checked out the pile of worn magazines on the corner table, but decided to give them a pass. Who knew what germs stuck to them?

After five minutes he got up and went back to Sophie’s cubicle, but the nurse said the doctor was still with her. He was going to go nuts sitting around, his brain cartwheeling between his sister—were she and the baby okay?—to Bridget. Where was she? Had they arrested her and were questioning her right this minute? Or worse, had Armand caught up to her?

He returned to the waiting room and had just settled in when Gage and DeMarco burst through the doors. They made an impressive team, and if he hadn’t known them, he would have been shaking in his boots. Gage stood well over six feet and looked ready to tear someone apart limb by limb. Someone like Rafe, for example. DeMarco was almost as tall, and wearing black jeans and T-shirt, with his gun prominently displayed on his hip, he looked edgy and dangerous. The whole room took a collective breath and held it.

Reluctantly, Rafe stood. Gage charged toward him. “Where is she?”

“With the doctor.”

“What the fuck happened?”

“I called to check up on her, and she said she was in pain and that she was spotting. She couldn’t find you. I told her to take a cab here, and I met her when she arrived.”

Gage looked like he wanted to bite Rafe’s head off. “You escape from jail, hide from the FBI and then call Sophie to check on her?”

He shrugged. “She’s pregnant. I worry about her, too, you know.”

The man sitting in the chair to the right of them started to clap. The rest of the room started clapping and hooting encouragement.

Gage’s face turned purple as he stepped closer to Rafe. “I don’t fucking believe this.”

DeMarco moved between them. “Go check on your wife. I’ve got him.” He pulled out his cuffs as Gage hurried over to the desk. “You have the right to remain silent.”

The room filled with boos from the people watching. DeMarco sighed. “I’m beginning to see what Gage means about you being a pain in the ass. Everyone loves you, don’t they, Pascotto?”

Not everyone. Gage sure as hell didn’t. And the vote from Bridget was still out. He agreed to go quietly with DeMarco only after the agent promised to get word to him about Sophie as soon as he could. He didn’t want Sophie to think he’d deserted her, although now that Gage was on the scene, she didn’t need him.

DeMarco pulled out into traffic after stashing Rafe in the back seat. “How did you get out of jail last night?” DeMarco glanced in the rearview mirror, waiting for his response.

Rafe sighed. He’d been hoping they already knew what had happened. He went through it once again, DeMarco interrupting him with a few choice words.

“If it was anyone else but you, I’d call them a freaking liar. But I don’t think you’ve got it in you to make a story like that up.”

“Can’t say I blame you. Even I’m having a hard time believing it happened. There’s gotta be some cameras in the jail.”

“There are, and big surprise, the system’s down for repair. Happens all the time.”

They pulled up in front of the jail. “Listen.” DeMarco turned to look at him. “I’ve gotta put you back in for now, but I’ll pull a few strings, and see if I can get you in front of a judge later today. Tomorrow at the latest.”

Because if he was out, he’d lead them to Irish. “I want to phone my lawyer.”

“Good idea. It’d probably expedite the process.” DeMarco flipped his cell to him and got out of the car.