Pinups and Possibilities (13 page)

By the time I got back to Trent Falls, the sun was already high up on the horizon. My head was throbbing like a son of a bitch, and I knew without a doubt that Polly—yeah, I was going to keep thinking of her as Polly—was going to be long gone.

Unfortunately, that didn’t change the fact that her home town was just about the only lead I had.

“There’s no fucking
way
I’m starting from scratch again,” I muttered as I drove through the quiet streets.

And there’s even less of a chance of me going back to Cohen empty-handed.

It only took five minutes to get across town to a neighbourhood full of squat, multifamily dwellings. I slowed as I reached the address on Polly’s most current driver’s licence. The second I parked the car a familiar figure emerged from the front door.

Mike the mechanic.

The burly man’s face was dark.

“Shit,” I muttered.

So much for his claim of barely knowing Jayme Duncan.

Before he got more than five steps, a blonde woman with a toddler in tow dove from the door, too, and clung to his elbow. Even from where I sat, I could tell she was crying. Mike gave her a quick hug, murmured something to her and the kid, then turned and stalked toward me.

“Shit,” I said again.

I got out of my car slowly, hands out in front of my body so I would appear as unintimidating as I could.

“I’m just looking for Polly,” I said calmly.

“First Jayme, now Polly?” he replied.

It was my turn to feel confused. Weren’t they one and the same? Maybe I misunderstood. But before I could ask for clarification, the blonde burst in angrily.

“Are you going to threaten us, too? Because I didn’t tell the last guy anything, and I’m sure as hell not telling it to you, either.”

“There was another guy here, asking for her?” I replied tensely. “What did he look like?”

Who the hell did Cohen send? And why? I was his best tracker.

“You really want to pretend you don’t know about that?” she scoffed.

Mike put a soothing hand on her shoulder. “Relax, babe. I’m sure he doesn’t. This is the cop.”

“He’s not a cop,” the woman snapped, then narrowed her eyes at me. “And I’m damned certain pretending to be one is illegal, too.”

“You’re sure he’s not a cop?” Mike asked.

“I’m sure,” she replied. “Polly told me herself.”

“Take Little Mike inside, Misty,” he commanded.

My head was spinning with questions. I couldn’t ask any of them without giving away my ignorance.

If Polly isn’t Jayme, who
is
Jayme? Why did she let me take her in Jayme’s place? What the hell kind of game was Cohen Blue playing with this one?

I fought to keep from clenching my hands into fists.

“Please stay,” I said to the blonde. “You’re right. I’m not a cop. But I
am
just doing my job.”

“Yeah, so was the jerk who tossed Polly’s place and pounded on my door, demanding to know where they went. So you can take your job…” She paused, covered her little boy’s ears, and hissed, “And shove it up your ass.”

I held up my hands in a surrendering gesture. “I get why you might not want to tell me anything, but I swear to you…I wouldn’t hurt Polly.”

“Too late,” Misty muttered, and Mike put his hand on her arm once more.

“Why don’t you tell us what you want with her and Jayme?” he suggested. “And we’ll decide what we’re going to tell
you
.”

“Fine,” I agreed, noting once again that he’d identified Polly and Jayme as two different people. “The man I work for—”

The boyfriend,
I realized, and cut myself off, mid-sentence.
Jayme is the boyfriend.

No wonder Polly had gone so far out of her to protect him. Jesus. Now I was going to have to go after both of them. How the hell did this play out with Cohen? Clearly, he knew Polly and wanted me to bring her in, but it was Jayme he’d sent me after in the first place…

“Well?”

My head flicked to Mike, who’d spoken the one-word question and was looking at me expectantly. I struggled to remember what I’d been about to say.

“The man you work for?” Misty prodded.

“Right. I work for a man who lends people money. The kind of people who can’t get money anywhere else. When those people don’t pay, I come collecting.”

“Like…a bounty hunter?” Mike filled in.

“Best description I can think of.”

“And Polly owes your boss money?” Misty didn’t sound like she believed it at all.

“No,” I said. “It’s Jayme who owes my boss money.”

There was no point in lying. Or in admitting that I’d thought Polly
was
Jayme.

Misty laughed, then caught sight of my face.

“You’re serious,” she stated.

I shrugged. “I just follow the name, not the circumstances. And Cohen sent me after Jayme Duncan.”

“That’s impossible,” she retorted. “He’s—”

Mike cut off Misty with a look.

What’re they hiding?
I wondered, but Mike didn’t give me a chance to pursue the question.

“What do you want to know?” he asked me.

What was most important? The answer was obvious.

Polly’s safety.

“The man who came here before I did…how long ago was it? Did he tell you his name?”

Misty bit her lip, but when Mike nodded, she spoke in a rush. “About three hours ago. He locked me and little Mike in a closet while he ransacked the whole damned house. Mike was already at work. I called him there the second I got us out. The guy didn’t tell me his name, but he was short, and he had long ,blond hair in a ponytail, and had mean eyes, with a scar above his moustache.”

Smith.

The man was ruthless. Cohen used him to cover other people’s mistakes. The thought of him going after Polly made me sick. The fact that Cohen sent him to cover
my
ass made me even sicker.

“What’s wrong?”

My eyes snapped up at the concern in Misty’s voice. My expression must’ve given away my feelings and I worked to conceal them.

“Did Polly give you any indication where she might be going?” I asked in as neutral voice as I could manage.

“No,” Misty replied much too quickly.

“Listen to me.” I said softly, and caught Mike’s eye. “Whatever you think of me…it’s probably mostly true. I’m not a good man. But I’m hell of a lot better than the one who came here this morning and tore up your house. I’m your best option. I’m
Polly’s
best option.”

“Tell him what you told me on the phone,” Mike commanded gently.

She scooped up their son and took a breath. “Two hours ago, Polly called the house and left a message. I heard it through the closet door. She just wanted to say that she was ditching the cell phone.”

“Did she say where she was?” I asked.

“No.”

Mike nudged his wife. “Misty.”

She sighed. “She didn’t say where she was, but I heard the clock chiming in the background. There’s only one town in a hundred-and-fifty-mile radius with those damned bells, and it’s a tiny one. Hereford Circle. Straight north out of Trent Falls.”

I reined in an urge to hug her.

“I’ll do my best to keep Polly safe,” I promised.

“And Jayme,” the blonde woman added.

My heart hardened a little, but I gave the couple a curt nod and climbed into my car.

* * *

I drove from Trent Falls to Hereford Circle without stopping. When I spotted the welcome sign, I finally slowed down.

I knew Polly was tough, but I was also pretty sure she wasn’t as accustomed to this kind of relentless travel. I could go for two days—maybe even three, if I pushed myself—without sleeping. Beef jerky and bottled water could keep me sustained for an awfully long time. I thought Polly would need rest, and so would her companion. That would slow her down, too. Travelling with someone else always did. They had their agenda while you had yours. Jayme wouldn’t be any different.

My lips twisted at the thought of her with him.

Maybe there’s a way I can just get the asshole to Cohen but leave Polly out of it. It’s him Cohen really wants anyway.

But I knew Polly wouldn’t just walk away. From the start, she’d been willing to sacrifice herself to protect him.

I sighed and pulled up to a diner on Main Street in Hereford Circle. It was the only place in sight. Not even a gas station marked the edge of the town. If she’d stopped anywhere, it would’ve had to be there.

I grabbed the plastic bag where I’d tucked Polly’s purse, plastered an open smile onto my face and strolled into the restaurant.

“Hi,” I said to the woman behind the counter. “I’m looking for a girl.”

She winked. “Aren’t you all?”

“This one is special.”

“Aren’t
they
all?”

I chuckled. “I suppose they are.”

“You a stalker?”

“Not exactly. I’m following her from down in Trent Falls. She filled up at my gas station and she left her purse on my counter.” I opened the plastic bag and showed her its contents. “I just want to get it back to her.”

The woman smiled. “That’s very kind. Let me call Robyn, the girl who was working the early shift.”

After a brief explanation, I found out that Polly had been one of Robyn’s only non-regular customers, and she’d ordered two sides of hash browns to go. She’d also been in a hurry, paid cash, and headed west. Five minutes later, I was back on the road, confident I was headed in the right direction.

* * *

Another hour brought me to dusk, and to a gas station, where I filled up and confirmed that Polly and her hatchback had done the same.

Two more hours and it was pitch-black. I was getting tired and restless and was just thinking about pulling over for a break when my headlights bounced off a sign advertising an out-of-the-way motel. Instinctively, I knew Polly would stop there. She might not stay the whole night. Hell, she might not even sleep, but if I was feeling the effects of travel, she was, too.

I cut off the highway and followed a winding road through a treed area and up to a rustic structure. The parking lot was long, narrow and dimly lit. It was also nearly empty, and the little purple car stood out like a sore thumb. Rather than drawing immediate attention to myself, I pulled in behind the motel, where I spotted a tiny coffee shop.

And there she was.

She sat on a tall stool with both hands clasped around a mug, and her dark hair fastened in a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. I let myself out of the car and approached the front door slowly. As I swung it open, I noted the dark circles under her eyes. It was impossible to ignore the guilty lurch in my heart.

When I placed a hand on her slumped shoulder, she tensed up, but didn’t flinch away.

“Why can’t you just leave us alone?” she asked.

“So you admit that you’re not Jayme Duncan?”

“I told you from the start that I wasn’t.”

“But you did say Cohen was after you. And you knew I was after Jayme.”

She shrugged. “You jumped to your own conclusions.”

“Where is he?”

“Who?”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re a terrible liar.”

She finally turned to face me. Her blue eyes held me, and two spots of colour were visible in her cheeks. I suddenly had to remind my body that this was a woman who had handcuffed me to a toilet, who had drugged me in a hotel room, and who was most likely planning on hitting me with the mug clasped tightly in her hands.

“Please just let us go,” she whispered.

“Who is this guy to Cohen? Who is he to
you
, Polly? Is he really worth all the trouble?” I couldn’t keep the harshness from my voice.

Polly opened her mouth, but she didn’t get a chance to answer. A small boy with a mop of curly, brown hair skipped out of the bathroom and hurled himself at her legs. He squeezed her tightly, and then clambered up onto the stool beside hers. The sleeves of his dinosaur-themed pyjamas were soaked. Water dripped from his fingers to the countertop.

“The hand dryer was broken,” he announced.

“I see that,” Polly replied with a little smile, and handed him a cloth napkin.

“Is my warm milk ready?” he wanted to know.

“Any second,” Polly assured him. “They said as soon as you were done with your banana loaf.”

“I’m done.” The little boy pouted, and Polly’s smile widened.

“Except for that giant chunk stuck to your nose.”

Chubby fingers reached up to search. “Hey! There’s nothing there.”

“Oops. Must’ve been a new freckle.”

I watched the exchange incredulously, my eyes growing a bit wider with each sentence. The little boy jerked a thumb in my direction.

“Mommy,” he stage-whispered. “There’s a man
looking
at us.”

Mommy.

“Jayme, don’t point, it’s rude,” Polly scolded.

My chest constricted as I finally made the connection I’d been missing. Jayme wasn’t a boyfriend, or a husband. He was a child.
Her
child. It was no wonder she would do anything to protect him, and anything to get back to him. Knowing what little I did about her own upbringing, I could only imagine how desperately she would want to keep her kid away from that same kind of life.

“Yeah,” the kid said. “But he’s
staring
, and that was rude first.”

“Two wrongs don’t make a right.”

The boy’s face fell. “Oh. I forgot.”

Polly ran her fingers through his hair affectionately. “This man is only staring because he wants me to introduce you. Painter Darren, this is my son, Jayme Duncan.”

Jayme stuck his hand out solemnly. I shook it with equal seriousness.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” he said as he released my hand.

What did my employer want with this little boy? I could think of only one reason why he’d care at all.

My heart tightened once again as I searched Jayme’s face for signs of Cohen. His eyes were the very same shade of sky blue as Polly’s, and he had the same pert nose. There was no trace of my boss’s cruel mouth or of the cleft in his chin. Jayme had a smattering of freckles and arched eyebrows, and when he grinned at me, all I saw was Polly.