In the Arms of a Stranger (Entangled Ignite) (10 page)

Nada.

There had to be
something
, somewhere. JP wouldn’t have asked about Wade’s things otherwise. Brooks wouldn’t have, either.

Did
Wade have an apartment in Washington? Had JP known that? Was that where he’d gone? She would go, after all. Find him, and—

Yeah, right, Abby
. As if someone like her could find someone like JP. She hadn’t even known her husband, and she thought she could go chasing after a total stranger, predict where he was, and find him? What planet was she living on?

Turning in disgust, she headed for the stall gate.

And that was when she saw it. A small crack where two boards joined. In the lower right corner of the stall.

Too obvious, she thought wearily, even as she reached out to check it. The board didn’t budge when she pulled on it. Not even a fraction of an inch.
Odd
… An old barn like this should not be so solid. She sat back on her heels, bending to see inside the crack from different angles.

She jumped up, ran to the shop, grabbed the pry bar from the worktable, and ran back. But even with it, she wasn’t strong enough to budge the board. Her shoulder hurt.

“Damn!” Tears of frustration clouded her vision.

Meow
.

She jumped, her heart thudding. The pry bar clattered to the ground and the calico cat hissed.

“Oh, God, Muffin. You scared the life out of me!” She laughed. She was letting it all get to her. Determined, she levered the pry bar again. The board moved. With a smile of renewed confidence, she pushed hard. It gave way. Putting the tool down, she looked inside.

Nothing.

Damn, damn,
damn
.

Muffin rubbed against her thigh. Feeling equal parts frustrated and foolish, Abby reached inside the cavity, first to the left, and then to the right.

And felt it
.

Oh, my God!
Her fingers touched something smooth, maybe wrapped in plastic.

She fumbled toward the item as it sat nearly out of reach, and finally managed to grasp a corner and pull it toward her. It was a clear plastic freezer bag. And inside were papers. A thick batch of papers.

Holy crap
. Legs weak, she stood, the bag in her trembling hands. She couldn’t believe it.

Her answers!

And suddenly, for the first time ever, she wasn’t sure she wanted them.

Meow
. Muffin wound around her legs as Abby opened the bag, took a deep breath, and started to read.

She should have been shocked. But she wasn’t. It was what she’d known all along in the dark recesses of her heart.

Wade had another house, just as JP had said. And another name.

Another life
.

Wade had been twelve years older than she was. He’d lived a whole lifetime before meeting her.

Oh, God. She almost staggered when a terrible thought occurred to her.

Did he have another
family
, too?

…

It was nearly six in the evening when Abby neared the Ocean Springs exit ramp off of Interstate 10 in Mississippi. The setting sun still shone brightly in her face. She’d have time to get there before it got dark. She had the deed and other papers to Wade’s house with her, just in case anyone questioned her right to be there.

At Wade’s house. His
secret
house. Listed in another name, but bearing his familiar scrawled signature on the paperwork. Another piece of the puzzle that had been her husband.

After stopping for directions at a gas station, she finally found the correct road. It wound around a bayou thick with grass, then crossed a small bridge. At one end sat a marina with a small restaurant to the side. Another mile or two, according to the station attendant, and she’d be there.

Sudden uncertainty slammed into her.
What in the world was she doing?
What did she hope to find? Did she really
want
to find anything?

There was no traffic on the road. So she made a U-turn and drove back to the marina and pulled into an empty parking space. She sat, the engine idling.

What if she
did
find something? What then?

A little voice piped up:
What if you find Wade’s other family?

She shook her head.
No
. He’d loved her and Cole. He wouldn’t do that. Which was probably what countless other women had said when they learned the truth about their philandering husbands.

Music from the restaurant filtered through the closed car windows.

She put the car in reverse, ready to drive back home to Alabama. Then she put her foot on the brake.

No
. She’d come this far. She’d finish what she started.

But first…

The aroma of food drifted in with the music. She hadn’t eaten a thing since breakfast. That was what was wrong with her. She was hungry, running on empty.

She turned off the car and walked into the dimly lit restaurant just as the music stopped. Uncomfortable at the sudden silence and the stares of several people, she almost walked right back out.

“Want to wait for a booth, honey? Or will the bar do for a few minutes?” a platinum blond waitress with spiked hair asked.

She glanced at the bar off to one side. Several men sat on high stools. Many couples sat in the dozen or so booths in the main dining area.

“The booths are all full?”

“Yep. It’s dinnertime. Probably be another fifteen minutes before one empties, but I can put you at the bar.”

She wanted to get to the house before it was completely dark, and she had to eat. “Thanks. That’ll be fine.”

She followed the waitress to the end of the bar. The bartender, a young, heavyset man with a trim beard, wiped the counter and greeted her.

“Paul will take care of you, honey,” the waitress said, walking away.

The menu didn’t have many choices. A burger combo and a seafood platter. Lots of choices of beer, though.

“Whatcha drinkin’?” Paul asked.

“Iced tea.”

Not what Paul expected to hear, Abby figured, judging from his expression. A male customer, three stools over, stared at her. More like leered at her.

Okay, so she didn’t go out much.
Any
. Not since she’d gotten married.

So she was at a bar. She handled twenty-four active ten-year-olds every day. She could handle sitting at a bar. Alone.

“Decide what you want to eat?” Paul asked.

“The burger, please,” she replied, sounding as prudish as somebody’s grandmother.

He took the menu from her. She felt so alone; she had to have something to do as she sat here. “Do you have today’s paper?”

“Yeah. Lemme place your order and I’ll bring it to you.”

This was going to be the longest, loneliest meal she’d had in a long time.

“You new ’round here?” the man from three stools over asked. He was middle-aged, pudgy, and a little balding. He’d loosened his tie and undone the top button of his white shirt.

“Just visiting.” Suddenly, lonely sounded really good.

“Nice place for a visit,” the man said. “I could show you around.”

Where the heck was Paul? “Thanks, but I’m meeting someone.”

“Don’t see him here.” He made a big show of spinning around on his stool.

He was drunk.
Great
. Just great.

“He’s, uh, running late,” she managed.

The man got up, holding on to the bar. “I’ll keep you company.” He smiled.

“You really don’t—”

“Come on, honey. We’re both alone. Both been stood up. Let’s get to know each other!” The burp that followed his exclamation did nothing to reassure her.

“I’d rather—”

He bent closer, his unfocused eyes suddenly sharp. “Think you’re too good for me?” he asked, his tone menacing.

“Hi, babe. Everything okay?” The gruff voice, unnervingly familiar, only took a second to recognize.

JP Blackmon
.

Her heart did a funny little tumble.
From relief at the just-in-time interruption
. That’s what it was. That was
all
it was.

“Hey, buddy, she’s with me,” JP said to the drunk.

“She yours?” the drunk asked, looking him up and down, eyes flaring.

“Yep,” JP replied with a predatory smile.

The drunk backed away, this time sitting six stools down.

Now everyone was staring. Abby wanted to sink through the floor. Definitely wanted to leave.

“Here’s the paper,” Paul said from across the bar.

“Ah, thanks,” she said, and watched Paul move away to wait on someone.

“What are you doing here, Abby?” JP asked evenly.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she answered with an attempt at defiance. She’d only seen him under dire circumstances. She had the instant crazy little notion that if
he’d
been three stools down from her, she would have rejoiced in his company.

“I asked first,” he said with a smile.

“Getting something to eat.”

“In a bar? With a drunk?”

“I didn’t expect…him. This.” She looked around the bar.

He focused on the drunk, then back at her, shaking his head. “Damn, you sounded just like a schoolteacher.”

“I am a schoolteacher!”

He seemed to struggle to find something to say to that, his eyes moving from her eyes to the tips of her running shoes. Then, instead, he laughed softly.

“What?” she demanded.

“Lady, when was the last time you were in a bar?”

She wasn’t going to answer that. No way. She pressed her lips together primly.

“What the hell are you doing here, anyway?”

“Don’t talk so loud,” she whispered.

“We’re in a bar,” he replied, his laughter instantly gone. “You’re lucky you didn’t start a fight just now, and you want
me
to be quiet?” He took a breath. “What are you doing here, Abby?” he asked again, this time in a lower tone.

It had been hard enough to admit it to herself. She wasn’t about to admit to him that she had to know if Wade had another life here.

“Abby?” he prompted.

“I was… Wade has a house here.”

“Burger’s coming right up,” Paul said.

“I’m sitting at that booth,” JP said to Paul, signaling toward a booth at the back. “The lady’s joining me. Could you send it out there?”

“Sure thing,” Paul replied.

“Thanks,” JP said, and took her arm to help her off the high bar stool.

She didn’t like the funny feeling she got at the warmth of his hand on her upper arm. She desperately wanted to pull away, but didn’t want him to know his touch had an effect on her.

Sheesh
. She was in
way
over her head.

“Hey, buddy,” the drunk said as they walked away, “I didn’t mean anything.”

“Now you know she’s mine,” JP replied.

She spun around, annoyed at his words, ready to tell him she could handle this.

Instead, he pulled her closer. “Unless you want that bar fight,” he said in a soft, tight voice against her cheek, “I suggest you walk to the booth. Now.”

She stiffened, but the pressure of his fingers made her do what he said. She scooted into the booth seat. “How dare you!”

“Don’t, Abby.” He sat down across from her. “You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“What makes you think I couldn’t handle that drunken jerk?”

He stared over at her, his brown eyes a mixture of regret…and something else. Something deeper and darker. “Because you don’t know how to handle me.”

Chapter 7

JP wanted nothing more than to get up, walk back to the bar, and sucker punch that damn drunk. For thinking, even for one minute, that he could breathe the same air as Abby Price.

The woman JP wanted
.

Damn
.

Not going there.

He ruthlessly turned his mind back to the immediate problem.
She knew where Wade’s safe house was
.

“How long have you known about the safe house?” he asked.

She didn’t look surprised by the question. Or by the fact that
he
knew about it. “Today. I found the papers with…Wade’s alias, after Steve and Cole left.”

“Where?”

“Buck’s stall.”

JP nodded. The barn. Well away from the house. That made sense. “What else did you find?”

“Nothing.”

“Abby…” he warned.

“Nothing!”

“What did you plan to do when you got here?”

She looked away, refused to meet his gaze.

“Well?”

She faced him again. Fresh and pretty, and so out of place in this cheap bar. He wanted to clear everybody out, make everything perfect for her.

What a stupid, deadly wish.

“I want to know the truth about who my late husband was. All of it.”

And JP couldn’t let her.
Wouldn’t
let her. Because it would destroy her. And because it might destroy him, too.

“Don’t torture yourself. He was a good man.”
JP hoped
.

“There’s so much I didn’t know.”

“You knew the important things.”

“I was married to him,” she said, her chin quivering slightly. “He never told me about the house here. A safe house? Safe from what? From me?”

“Stop,” JP said firmly.

“You knew about it,” she accused.

“No. I didn’t know.”

“Then how did you find out?”

“You told me.”

She frowned, then her brow cleared. “Ah. The springs.”

He nodded. “Which is what Wade called Ocean Springs. I knew a couple of his aliases. That’s how I found it.”

“Have you seen it?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you find?” She leaned closer.

“Nothing.”

“You had to find something.”

He shrugged. “It’s just a house.”

“On the water,” she said. “How could he afford that? We didn’t have that kind of mon—” Her eyes zeroed in on his. Narrowed. “My God.
He
did. He had money, didn’t he?”

“He was single for years. Plenty of time to put away a nest egg.” Now JP was rationalizing. As if it would ever be logical that a man like Wade Price could have enough money to buy waterfront property.

“Then why not tell me about it?”

“It’s a safe house. You don’t tell anyone about it. That’s the point.”

“Do you have one?”

He almost didn’t tell her.
Almost
. “Yeah.”

“Waterfront property?” she asked, her eyes never leaving his.

He smiled. How had Wade kept anything from her? “It’s sort of modest.”

“And no one knows about it but you?”

“No one.”

“Not even your family?”

“No one. That’s what having a safe house means. A place where—”

“You can hide,” she filled in. She leaned forward again. “Then why aren’t you there?”

“Because I’m working on something.”

“You’re running from Brooks,” she said. “You wouldn’t have come if you didn’t think something here would help you stop running.”

He wanted to look away, but for some damn reason he couldn’t.

“I can help you,” she said, her face so open.

He’d thought she would continue to demand answers. He hadn’t expected this. “You can’t help me.”

“I found where he hid the papers about this house, didn’t I? Brooks didn’t.
You
didn’t.”

“You don’t understand. I don’t
want
your help.”

She smiled. On her, it was a sweet smile. On anyone else, it would have been a smile of victory. “But you
need
it. You’ll need me to search the safe house.”

He drew in a considering breath. She was right—he’d searched the damn barn with no luck…and she’d found something important. Because, despite the secrets Wade had kept from her, she did know the way he thought. Maybe better than JP. So, yes, he needed her.

And that was the biggest mistake he’d made so far, JP realized. Needing her.

Wanting her
.

Wade’s widow. Shit, how twisted was that?

“This your husband, honey?” the waitress asked, putting Abby’s burger in front of her. The woman was giving him a very thorough once-over.

“Yep, that’s me,” he said before Abby could deny it.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were meeting your husband?” she asked Abby, then without waiting for an answer, turned back to JP. “I didn’t like taking her over to the bar, but I thought Paul would watch out for her. He told me Rayburn came on to her before he got back. Glad you came along when you did.”

“Me, too,” he replied.

“You two been married long?” the waitress asked, her hands on her hips.

“We’re—” Abby began.

“Eight years,” he said with an affectionate smile at her.

The waitress smiled, too. “Kids?”

“Two boys and a girl.” The lies rolled off his tongue. He saw Abby stiffen , the surprise in her eyes. “We’re taking a few days off together. My sister’s watching them for us.”

“Where you staying?”

“My wife’s friend has a house down here.”

“What’s her name?” the waitress asked.

“Him. What was his name again, honey?” he prompted, testing her. Maybe she’d only guessed about the house, the alias, maybe she hadn’t found anything at all, and was just guessing, going to every town with the word “springs” in its name.

Abby kept her eyes on him. “Luke Abbott,” she said.

“How about that,” the waitress replied, her face lighting up.

Yeah, how about that
. She
had
found something. “You know Luke?” JP asked the waitress.

“Sure do. He’s a regular when he’s down here. Haven’t seen him in a long time. Maybe a year and a half? He doin’ okay?”

“He’s out of the country,” JP replied.

“He told me he’d be gone for long periods. That’s why he arranged for the boy next door to watch the house for him.”

“Were you and Luke…close?” Abby asked.

Damn
, how he hated this. Hated seeing her ask some worn-out waitress whether she and Wade had a close relationship.

The waitress laughed. “Honey, that man has been mourning his wife since I met him! Can’t say I didn’t try, but Luke is a one-woman man. I figured that out real quick.”

Mourning?
That must have been how he kept women at a distance, JP figured.

“How long have you known him?” Abby asked.

“Well,” she said, “I guess since he bought the house. That’s been, oh, ten years or more now.”

He’d met Wade here five years ago and he’d never said a damn word.

…

Abby reached for a French fry to keep tears at bay.
Ten years
. Wade had known this woman ten years. And Abby hadn’t known him at all.

The waitress walked away.

“Was there another wife?” she asked JP. The question nearly choked her.

“No,” he replied, and she thought she saw sympathy in his eyes. “That was part of his cover.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s an alias. That’s how it works.”

“He had different aliases, depending on the situation?”

He shrugged. “It’s one way to do things.”

Things?
“Is JP your real name?”

He smiled, and she realized she hadn’t seen one of his real smiles before. This one lit up his face, made his eyes laugh. There was devilment in the smile. “I don’t know you well enough to tell you that yet.”

Yet?

The look of him, the timbre of his voice, as if he really would know her well enough to—

Her breath caught. She couldn’t look away.
That
well?

She wanted to frown, to be outraged. But his eyes… Good heavens, his eyes. Everything about him, from his short dark hair, to his smile, to his broad shoulders, he was all captivating male.

Instead, she laughed. It was a totally unexpected reaction. She’d never reacted to anyone the way she did to JP. If that was his name…

And what came out of her mouth next was a total surprise. “When do you think you will?”

“Looks to me like you two need some alone time,” the waitress said, returning to put her iced tea on the table. “Three kids can sure kill the romance.” She winked.

Wonderful. The waitress had seen right through her. Abby wanted to melt in mortification.

Then she felt JP’s hand on hers, on top of the table. Felt him lift her hand…to his mouth. Felt his lips, smooth and firm, as he kissed the palm of her hand.

“Hey, you two. Hope Luke’s got a nice bed.” The waitress laughed. “But from the look in your husband’s eye, honey, you may not make it that far.”

“Bring us the check?” JP asked, his gaze locked on Abby’s. “We’re eating real fast.”

The waitress walked away chuckling.

“There was no need to let her think…you know…” Abby said.

“It’s a role. It’s what you’ll have to do if you want to help me.”

“Pretend to be your wife?”

“Can you handle that?”

She wanted to say it would depend on how far she had to take the pretense. She lifted her chin. “I can handle almost anything,” she said, knowing defiance was a foolish tack to take. She picked up her burger, intent on showing him he had no effect on her.

“It’s not a game,” he said, picking up his own burger, already half eaten.

“I know,” she said with the force of anger behind the words.

He focused his attention on her. It was so different from the repartee they’d enjoyed only moments ago that she had to make herself take a bite of her food. He nodded and began eating. Someone put money into the jukebox and Kelly Clarkson started to sing “Fly Away.” Taking chances was not what Abby was about. She concentrated on her food, studiously ignoring JP, and choked down her burger as he finished his. In silence.

The waitress came back with the check. “Here you are,” she said.

“This will cover it. Keep the change,” JP said, standing. He reached his hand down to Abby. “Let’s go, honey.”

She stood, refusing to give him her hand. She didn’t want to feel the things she felt when she touched this man. A man who was too much like her late husband for comfort. A man with far too many secrets.

He leaned toward her, rubbed his hand down the back of her head, then around to her cheek before tilting her face up.

Then he bent and kissed her. Not a little peck, but a full-blown kiss. On her mouth.

And she knew for sure she was in way over her head.

Because she liked it. Far too much.

…

JP hadn’t planned to kiss Abby. Hell, he’d planned to avoid touching her. It reassured him that he didn’t pull her up hard against him, didn’t allow himself to taste her—
much
. But, damn, he’d wanted to. Wanted a lot more than just a kiss.

And given the fact that he still wasn’t feeling one hundred percent because of the wound in his side, it said too damn much about what Abby Price was doing to him.

“Was that really necessary?” she asked in her best prissy schoolteacher tone as he escorted her to her car. The sun had set and the growing darkness wasn’t much help when he tried to decipher her expression.

“Was what necessary?” he asked.

“You know exactly what.”

“The game we played?”

“The game
you
played,” she replied. “I was jerked around.”

Impatient and a little angry that she was totally ignoring the heat—
fire
, damn it, and
yeah
, she’d felt it, too—he turned her to face him. “As I said, if you want to help me, you have to play along.”

“I could be your sister.”

He laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”

This time he did see her expression. Utter surprise. Was the woman blind?

“You— I—”

“Look, I’m not going to—”
Dance around the attraction between us, as you are.
He almost said it aloud. Almost said a whole hell of a lot more. But then, there was always the possibility that he was wrong, that he’d misread her reactions.
Hell
. “I don’t want you with me.”

“You need me to help find whatever Wade hid in the safe house, the way I found those papers in the barn.”

He should not have saved her from that son of a bitch inside. He should have let her handle it. Then she would have gone running home and he wouldn’t be fighting the practical need for her help with the emotional need to have her gone.

Or the raw need to have her.

Hell!

Damn him for doing what he was about to do. Damn him for using her, for needing what she knew about Wade to help find anything that might help clear his name. “I’ll have to break into the house.”

“You mean…you haven’t been inside?” Even in the dim light shining from the front entrance of the bar, he could see she was skeptical.

“No.”

She studied his face. Deciding if he was telling the truth? God, what she did to him was ridiculous.

“Shouldn’t we stake it out or something?” she asked.

He almost laughed. But the look on her face told him she was serious.

“It’s closed up, remember? The waitress said there’s a neighbor checking on it.”

“You don’t think someone lives there?”

“Like who?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “He could have…another family.” The last two words came out in a rush. As if she was ashamed to say them.

He blinked. He seriously wanted to gather her close. Comfort her.
Not a good idea
.

“Wade wouldn’t do that,” he found himself saying. As if he knew it for a fact. As if he knew without a doubt that Wade hadn’t forced him to run for his life. The old Wade he knew…
thought
he knew, would never have done either terrible thing. But this past year had convinced him otherwise. Only in the last few days had there been any hint that he may be wrong. Looking at Abby’s apprehensive expression, he prayed he was. For both their sakes.