No Turning Back (13 page)

I can be nice.

My eyes widened. No. It couldn't be. But I couldn't help remembering what Blane had said yesterday, right before I'd beat a hasty retreat from his office.

"I'm not a nice man."

Lori's head poked around the corner. "Wow," she said, her eyes alight with curiosity. "Who sent those?"

I crumpled the card in my fist. There's no way I could tell anyone that one of the partners had sent me flowers. Especially not that it had been Blane. Everyone would immediately assume I was sleeping with him.

"No idea," I lied. "Strange, huh?" Before she could question me further, I jumped up and grabbed my purse and papers.

"Gotta get to the courthouse," I said. "See you later." I heard her call a goodbye to me as I headed out the doors and I breathed a sigh of relief. I really did not want anyone to know about Blane. Not that there was anything to know, I thought irritably. He was bored and playing a game with me and it needed to stop. I'd deal with him after I met with Mark.

"Kathleen!" Hank said jovially as I stepped through the courthouse metal detector. "Ain't seen you in a few days. You doin' all right?" Beneath his grin was real concern and I knew he probably still felt guilty about the incident last Friday. I smiled at him. I couldn't be angry. If someone was determined to get something into the courthouse, I didn't believe there was much that could be done to stop them.

"I'm fine, Hank," I said. "No worries." Relief washed across his face as he handed my things back to me.

By the time I finished my deliveries, it was nearing eleven and I was glad I'd timed that well. Now I had to find Mark and maybe we could grab some lunch. The problem was, he hadn't stayed on the phone long enough last night for us to set up a specific meeting place.

I wandered around the courthouse for a while, but it was crowded and difficult to pick one person out of the many. Glancing at my watch nervously, I saw that it was fifteen minutes past the time I was supposed to meet Mark. I stepped outside and shaded my eyes from the glaring sunshine.

Suddenly, a hand closed over my wrist and pulled. Whirling, I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw it was Mark. Then my eyes widened as I took in his appearance.

Mark had always been meticulous in his personal grooming and I had often teased Sheila about the sharp creases on his pressed shirts and pants. That was nowhere in evidence today. He was wearing clothes that were so wrinkled they looked like they'd been slept in, and he was sporting several days' growth of beard. His eyes were darting around us and his grip tightened on my arm as he tugged.

"C'mon," he said urgently. "We need to get out of the open."

"What?" I asked, confused. "Why?"

"Too many eyes and ears," he said, which only increased my bewilderment, but I allowed him to lead me. He took us away from the courthouse and down a side street, moving so quickly I had to half jog to keep up. Glancing behind us every few steps, he seemed to expect someone to be following us. It unnerved me until I, too, was turning to look when he did.

Mark stopped in front of a small diner, peering through the window, then he pulled me inside. He sat at a small table facing the door and I sat across from him. Mark was carrying a backpack that he left hooked over his arm rather than laying it down on an extra chair.

"Mark," I said once I sat down. "What is going on? Are you all right?" My first thought in taking a good look at him was that Sheila's death had hit him hard. I felt bad for him. I knew what it was like to lose someone in a sudden and violent way. Thoughts of my dad flashed through my mind.

"No, I am most definitely not all right," he said, sparing a glance at me before his eyes again moved to the windows. "I wanted to tell you, warn you, I think you might be in danger." His eyes were on me again, intent and serious. I might have laughed at the melodrama, his words were right out of a movie script, but I could see he believed them.

"What are you talking about?" I asked. "Why would I be in danger?"

"It's the people I work for," he said, "or really, the people they work for. I think..." he faltered for a moment and had to clear his throat before he continued, speaking quietly. "I think they might have been the ones who killed Sheila." The shock must have shown on my face.

"I was there that night," he continued, his eyes intent on mine. "Sheila and I argued and I left. But I hated to leave it like that. So I came back..." His voice faltered and he rubbed a weary hand across his face. Clearing his throat, he continued, his voice thick. "When I came back, she was dead. And I ran. I was terrified they were coming for me, too. Kathleen, it's my fault Sheila's dead."

The pain on his face was difficult to see and I reached out to take his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. I had no idea what to say. I was in shock and still didn't know why someone would want to kill him.

"But why would they kill Sheila?" I asked, confused.

"To try and get to me, I think," he answered. Before I could ask why, he gripped my hand tightly. "And you can't trust that firm you work for, Kathleen. They're involved, too. I don't know how far exactly, but they can't be trusted." A chill went through me as I remembered telling Blane about Sheila's cell phone and how, hours later, it had disappeared from my apartment.

"Involved in what?" I asked. I was confused. Mark was being vague and if Blane was involved or, more importantly, I was in danger, I wanted more information. "Who do you work for?"

"I work for a software company," he explained. "They're called TecSol."

"Why would someone kill Sheila because of your work?" None of it made any sense.

"It's about Eve," he said. "I knew about the problems and I went to your firm for help. Someone betrayed me. They told me to keep quiet or I'd regret it. I didn't believe them. I thought I was doing the right thing. But Sheila paid the price and now they're after me." He looked like he would have said more, but something out the window caught his eye. Then his hand was like a vice on my arm as he dragged me out of my seat. I had just enough time to see a man come through the diner's door before Mark dragged me back behind the counter.

We ran through the kitchen, Mark shoving a couple cooks and a waitress out of the way as we barreled past. I winced when a stack of plates went crashing to the floor. Mark kept pulling me relentlessly until we burst out of the back door into an alley. A glance right before the door shut behind us showed me the man had followed us through the kitchen.

"Run!" Mark shouted, shoving me forward. I didn't need to be told twice and sprinted down the deserted alley, Mark hot on my heels. The door crashed open behind us, slamming into the brick wall and I didn't turn around but redoubled my efforts, lungs burning for air as my knees pumped.

A gunshot rang out and I shrieked, ducking around a corner. Mark followed me as we collapsed against the wall, breathing heavily.

"Kathleen," he gasped, "Take this," he thrust his backpack at me. "We'll split up. It's me they want. I'll be in touch. Now go!"

"What?!" I practically screeched. "I'm not leaving you!" I could feel tears stinging my eyes and I blinked them away. I was not leaving him alone. With surprising strength, he shoved me away.

"Go!" he said, and before I could utter another protest he took off in the opposite direction. I was frozen for a moment in shock before I was able to command my feet to move. Then I sprinted down the alley, his backpack slung over my shoulder.

What I saw at the end of the alley made me slide to a stunned stop. It was him. The man in black. He was facing my direction and was pointing a gun at me.

Well. That was certainly disappointing. I filed that emotion away for later.

Instinctively, I spun and started back the direction I'd come and then skidded to a stop again. The man who had been chasing Mark and me appeared at the other end of the alley. I was trapped.

My head swiveled back and forth, trying to decide what to do. I spied a door off to my left and flung myself at it, praying it was unlocked. The gods must have been feeling pity for me because, miracle of miracles, the knob turned under my hand. I bolted through the doorway just as I heard the sound of a bullet ricocheting off the brick where my head had just been. Turning, I twisted the deadbolt on the door.

I was in what appeared to be a small deserted store, empty save for a few boxes. My harsh breathing was loud in the quiet room. I looked around frantically for anything that could be a weapon. A rickety wooden chair caught my eye and I ran to it. Grasping its legs, I tried to pry one off. It always looked easy when they did it in the movies, but rickety though it may have looked, it was sturdy enough to withstand my fruitless attempt to break it apart. I called it a few choice words under my breath.

A scraping noise behind me made my breath freeze in my lungs. I grabbed my still fully intact chair and moved back into the shadows, holding it over my head. The door I'd come through burst open and slammed against the wall. I heard footsteps coming closer and I bided my time. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and swung the chair.

"Ow! Dammit! Stop, Kathleen!"

Hearing my name startled me and I dropped the chair, then ran forward into the meager light. It was my man in black. I had knocked him down to the floor and he was rubbing the back of his head. He'd dropped his gun and I quickly picked it up, moving a safe distance away. Sitting up, he looked at me.

The gun felt strange in my hand. I hadn't held a gun since my dad had died. Nonetheless, I pointed it at him with steady hands.

"How do you know my name?" I demanded. "And why were you chasing me?"

"I wasn't chasing you," he said calmly. Too calmly for someone with a gun pointed at them, if you asked me. "I was trying to help you." He got to his feet and I stepped back, eyeing him warily.

"You have a funny way of showing it," I said. Even to my ears I sounded bitchy, but I thought I had the right. "Why should I believe you? And you still haven't told me how you know my name." He smirked and I had to ignore the way my stomach tightened in response. No man should be allowed to look that good after getting cracked across the head.

"I made it a point to find out your name after the incident at the courthouse." Oh. Well that made sense. I felt an embarrassing flush of pleasure that he'd wanted to know about me.

"Who are you?"

"You seem to have a knack for getting into trouble," he said, ignoring my question. "First the crazy loon at the courthouse then you're spying on Junior." He rolled his eyes when he said "Junior" and I took that to mean he didn't think much of James. "And today you have a man chasing you with a gun." Well, when he put it like that, it did seem rather bizarre. And he didn't even know about Sheila.

"This isn't how my life usually is," I protested, then wondered why I was defending myself to a man who wouldn't even tell me his name.

"Who are you?" I demanded again, using the gun for emphasis. He looked at me and for a moment I thought he wasn't going to answer.

"Dennon," he finally said. "Kade Dennon. Now why don't you tell me why you're here?"

"I'm here because some freak was chasing me with a gun," I said. I didn't say anything about Mark. Mark had said not to trust anyone at the firm and I didn't really know anything about this guy, just that I'd seen him at the courthouse and the firm, albeit after hours.

The gaze he leveled at me said he didn't believe me for a second, but I resolutely pressed my lips together. He'd moved closer without me noticing, and in a flash he ripped the gun from my hand. A cry of dismay fell from my lips.

"Let's get out of here," he said, shoving the gun in the small of his back and taking my arm. His manhandling didn't sit well with me, especially with my pride hurting over how easily he'd taken the gun from me. I pulled away from him.

"I can walk, thank you," I said stiffly. I was suspicious of him, even though he claimed he had been trying to help me. We made our way to the front of the building, which was as dark and deserted as the back.

"What happened to the other guy?" I asked, wondering if Kade had killed him. He seemed to read my mind.

"He's alive," he answered, but didn't offer anything further. Unlocking the front door, we stepped out onto the street and I was struck by how normal everything looked. A few minutes ago, I'd been terrified and running for my life. And yet, the sun was still shining and people passed by on their way to do normal everyday things. It felt like I was stepping out of the Twilight Zone.

"Let me help you with that," Kade said, reaching for Mark's backpack I still had slung over my shoulder. I quickly stepped beyond his reach.

"No thanks. I'm fine." Our eyes met, and in that instant, I knew that he wanted whatever was in the backpack. He must've seen Mark give it to me, which meant he was lying to me. I felt fear again in the pit of my stomach. I'd almost rather have someone chasing me. At least then I knew which side they were on. Kade was trying to gain my trust, which scared me. I turned and started walking back towards the courthouse, Kade falling into step beside me. His hand gripped my arm, tighter this time, so I couldn't easily pull away.

I didn't know what to do. He had a gun. That pretty much trumped anything I might do to get away from him. I thought of Mark and worried about what trouble he was in and if he'd pulled me into it as well.

As we neared the courthouse we ran into a group of high school kids there on a field trip. There had to be at least a hundred of them crowding the sidewalk and steps around us. That's when I had an idea.

I stopped abruptly in my tracks and Kade jerked to a halt beside me. As he turned, a questioning look on his face, I said as loudly as I could manage, "Oh my God! It's that guy on TV!" I added a high-pitched squeal just to seal the deal. The effect was instantaneous. Girls close to me turned, got one good look at him, and started screaming. A wave of bodies surged toward us. I saw a brief look of horror on Kade's face before he was mobbed. He couldn't maintain his grip on my arm as the girls pushed between us and I quickly took advantage, sliding into the crowd.