Running Blind (14 page)

And then the doctor had diagnosed her with leukemia, and she'd realized that all those plans were going to fall apart. That everything she'd been working for was worth nothing if she didn't have her health and her life.

“You've gone quiet on me,” Nikolai said as they walked across the parking lot.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“About what you said. Life passing us by while we twiddle our thumbs waiting. I've never done that. Sat around twiddling my thumbs, I mean.”

“I didn't think you were the type who would.”

“I believe in going after what I want, but I've learned that sometimes the things we want just aren't meant to be.”

“That doesn't mean we shouldn't keep trying to find out what
is
meant to be.”

“
We're
not. Meant to be, I mean.”

“Okay.”

“And that's it, again?”

“We both said what we needed to, right?” He smiled, holding open the diner door so that Jenna could walk in.

The scent of bacon and maple syrup hung in the air, and her stomach growled loudly in response. A good meal, a few minutes away from the Romero's house—that's all she needed to clear her head.

And she'd
better
clear it.

Otherwise, she might begin to think too deeply about what Nikolai had said. She might begin to study him more intently,
spend more time mentally listing the things about him that she admired.

And then she might find that attraction and chemistry really were turning into something deep and lasting. Something that she'd once wanted but had given up on.

Throwing in the towel was what Nikolai had called it.

Jenna preferred to think of it as self-preservation.

Although, when Nikolai handed her a menu, his eyes dancing with humor and dark with interest, she was tempted to call it cowardice. Ryan, after all, had been a boy when she'd met him. Nikolai was a man, and Jenna had a feeling her heart would do more than break if she let herself fall for him and then had to watch him walk away.

No, Nikolai wouldn't just break her heart.

He'd shatter it, and if he did, Jenna doubted it would ever be whole again.

J
enna dug into her pancakes, eggs, hash browns and sausage with gusto, and Nikolai couldn't help smiling as he watched.

“What?” She frowned as she wiped her mouth and set the napkin in her lap, ladylike but for the huge plate of food sitting in front of her. Then again, Nikolai had never thought that picking at food and limiting calories was a ladylike thing to do. For his part, he preferred to eat meals with people who were more interested in enjoying the conversation and the food than in counting every bite.

“Just wondering where you're going to put all that.”

“I'll find a place for it.” She grinned as she forked a bite of pancake into her mouth.

“I can order you more, if you'd like.”

“Sorry. My days of consuming as much as a lumberjack ended around the time I had to give up gymnastics.”

“You were a gymnast?”

“From the time I was three until I got sick my senior year of college. I've got boxes filled with trophies and medals. I used to imagine pulling out the boxes and letting my daughters and sons play with them. It's probably long past time to toss them all out.” She shrugged, pushing a piece of sausage to the side of her plate.

“Do you no longer want to share them with your children?”

“I can't have kids. That's another thing that cancer stole from me.” She said it matter-of-factly, as if she'd practiced the words over and over until they no longer hurt.

“There are other ways of creating a family, Jenna.”

“I know. Believe me, I've thought about that plenty. But…”

“What?”

“I always wonder if it would be fair to tell a guy that we can't have biological children together. I know it sounds stupid, but it's how I feel.”

“It doesn't sound stupid. It sounds safe.”

“What do you mean?” She lifted another bite of pancake, but didn't eat it.

“I mean that you've been in love before and it didn't work out. It's much easier to say that you don't want to disappoint a potential husband than to admit that you're afraid of being disappointed.”

Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth, closed it again.

Nikolai was sure she'd tell him that he didn't know what he was talking about.

Instead, she set her fork down, watching him through narrowed eyes. “You're something else, Nikolai.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I haven't decided yet.” She paused, cocking her head to the side. “Or maybe I have.”

“Yeah?”

“I think it's a good thing that you didn't say what everyone else has. I'm tired of the sympathy and the words of encouragement. I'd rather just be told to get over my pity trip and get on with my life.”

“Was that what I said?”

“In your own sweet way.”

“Sweet?” He'd been called a lot of things, but never that.

“Would you rather I'd said tough, masculine and forceful?”

“Actually, yes.” He smiled over his coffee cup, glad to see Jenna relaxed for a change. She'd been wound up tight since he'd met her, and a few minutes thinking about something other than her friend's death could only be good for her.

“I'll keep that in mind.” She shoved her half-full plate toward the center of the table. “Done?”

“I guess I really didn't have room for all that food. Too bad. It was delicious.”

“We can come back tomorrow morning before I take you to the airport and you can have more.”

“Actually, John is going to give me a ride to the airport.”

“He'd be better off spending that time with his son.”

“You're pretty judgmental of him.”

“I told you last night that I didn't like him much, but that wasn't quite true.”

“No?”

“It isn't that I don't like him much, it's that I don't like him at all.”

“That's harsh, Nikolai.”

“Maybe, but I have no respect for a man without loyalty.”

“I don't think—”

“Does he seem grief-stricken to you, Jenna? Does he seem like a man who has just lost his wife?”

“We can't judge him as callous just because he didn't cry at Magdalena's funeral.”

“So, you did notice.”

“He has a little boy to think about. It's not as if he can just fall apart.”

“I'm surprised you're defending him. Last night, you looked ready to take his head off.”

“Magdalena loved him. He can't be all bad.”

“No, but I think he has a lot of secrets.”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember how I left the guest suite and ran into him outside?”

“How could I forget? The two of you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“He didn't just look out a window and see my car. He was out last night. I don't know where he was. I don't know what he was doing, but his car was parked a few houses up and the engine was still warm.”

“Are you sure it was his car?”

“I have a friend who works at the DMV. He looked up the license plate number for me.”

“So, he was out. Maybe he couldn't sleep and went for a drive.”

“That's the explanation he gave me while I was waiting for you to get ready to come to breakfast.”

“But?”

“I'd like to know why he didn't mention being out when we ran into each other last night. I'd also like to know why he didn't ask me to move my car so he could pull up the driveway and into his garage.”

“There was a lot going on. He may simply have for-got-ten.”

“Maybe.”

“But you don't think he did?”

“I think he was hoping I wouldn't notice his car. I think he'd have preferred it if neither of us knew he was out last night.”

“What he does is his business, so I'm not sure why he would care.”

“He wouldn't. Unless he had something to hide.”

“Like what?” She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck, her frustration obvious. Whether she was frustrated by Nikolai's comments, by her own doubts about John, or by all the unanswered questions, Nikolai didn't know.

“That's what I want to find out.”

“I thought you were looking into Magdalena's life. Not her husband's.”

“Aren't they one and the same?”

“Not really. Magdalena had a career and outside interests that didn't include John. He had his own interests as well.”

“Like what?”

“The humanitarian medical missions were all Magdalena's thing. John never traveled with her, even before they had Ben.”

“Did that cause problems between them?”

“I think Magdalena would have liked John to participate, but she wasn't angry about it. There were never fights or arguments about whether or not he would go. And it wasn't that he didn't take an interest. He did small things, like arranging for the medical supplies to be shipped and unloaded.”

“So, Magdalena was mostly interested in charity. What about John? What things did he enjoy?”

“Fishing. Football. Hunting. He had a lot of hobbies. As a matter of fact, the last time I visited, I didn't even see him.”

“Didn't you think that was odd?”

“Not really. I was only in town for a couple of days.”

“How long ago was that?”

“A little over two years. I'd just found out my cancer was in remission and I flew out here to visit.”

“Yeah?” He kept his comment vague, not wanting to stop the flow of Jenna's words. She had plenty of memories of Magdalena and John. Some of those memories might help Nikolai get a clearer picture of who the couple was and where they'd gone wrong.

And he had no doubt they had gone wrong.

A couple that spent more time apart than together didn't seem like a couple destined to last. Perhaps that explained why John hadn't seemed grief-stricken over his wife's death. It might also explain why he'd been out until nearly four in the morning.

“They lived in the condo, then. It was maybe a third of the size of what they have now. It was comfortable, but nothing fancy.”

“Was there a reason for the move?”

“Are you interrogating me, Nikolai?” she asked, spearing him with a hard look as the waitress took their plates and handed Nikolai the check.

“I'm asking questions that I hope will help me understand Magdalena and John.”

“Speaking of John, we'd probably better head to the park if we're going to meet his family there.” She stood and stretched, her T-shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of pale smooth flesh. She tugged it back into place as she leaned over to pull the check from his hand. “I've got this.”

“I don't think so.” He pulled it back, calling the waitress over and handing her cash.

“I wish you hadn't done that,” Jenna mumbled as the waitress walked away. “Why?”

“Because this wasn't a date. It was just two people having breakfast together, so I should have paid my own way.”

“You can pay next time.”

“I'm leaving tomorrow morning. I don't think there'll be time for another meal together.”

“We're stopping here on the way to the airport, remember?”

“John is driving me,
remember?
” she asked, smiling.

“You're going to deny me that pleasure of escorting you back to the airport?”

“I'm sure you have better things to do with your time.”

“Like?”

“Like whatever private investigators do.”

“I'm not just a private investigator. I'm a man who would like the pleasure of your company one more time before you go back to Washington. Seeing as how I've saved your life twice, I don't think that's too much to ask.”

“You saved my life three times, but I thought we weren't counting.”

“We're not, unless counting means I get my way.”

She laughed, the sound soft and filled with amusement.

“Fine. If it's that important to you, I guess I can't say no.”

But she could have, and they both knew it. Just as they both knew there was something simmering beneath the surface of everything they said, every glance they exchanged.

“What time does your plane leave?”

“Ten.”

“I'll pick you up at seven.”

Jenna walked out of the diner ahead of Nikolai, her hair gleaming in the bright sunlight. He wanted to put an arm around her shoulders and let his fingers play in the silky ends of her hair. He wanted to forget about John Romero and his poor deceased wife and enjoy the time he was spending with Jenna. He couldn't, though, because forgetting those things could make him forget the danger that Jenna might still be in, and that could prove hazardous for both of them.

His car was parked just a few yards away, and Nikolai followed Jenna as she stepped off the curb. An engine revved to their left, and he turned, saw a motorcycle pull out of a space a few feet away. There were several other motorcycles dotting the parking lot, and the driver seemed no more aware of Nikolai than he should be. Still, Nikolai tensed, edging Jenna back toward the curb.

“What's wrong?” she asked, but Nikolai kept his eyes on the approaching motorcycle, wishing he still had his service weapon. Wishing he had any weapon. A gun. A knife. A pitchfork. Whatever would work to keep Jenna safe.

The motorcycle sped closer, the engine revving again, and Nikolai pushed Jenna between two cars, ignoring her scream as he turned to face the oncoming vehicle. There was no way he could stop the attack. No way he could keep the motorcyclist from doing whatever he planned.

“Stay down!” he shouted, praying the driver didn't have a gun. Praying that Jenna would do as he'd ordered.

But of course she didn't.

She was up and moving toward him as the motorcycle
swerved. The driver lifted something dark and familiar. Not a gun. A hand grenade?

“Move!” He dove between the cars, lifting Jenna and running, the motorcycle's engine filling the morning air, his heart beating loudly in his ears.

And for a moment he was back in Iraq, the morning stillness broken by an explosion, adrenaline pumping. Anger and fear and determination all rolling through him, rolling over him until he couldn't tell one from another. Didn't know anything but his own need to protect and to survive.

He yanked Jenna around the side of the building, pressing her against the brick wall, hoping it would be enough to keep her safe. The sound of the motorcycle faded. The morning stillness returned.

“Is he gone?” Jenna gasped the words, her face so pale Nikolai thought she might pass out. “Yes.”

“He had something in his hand. Did you see it? It looked like—”

“It looked like a hand grenade. That's what it looked like, but it was a dud. Otherwise it would have exploded. Come on. We'd better see if it's lying on the ground somewhere.” He took her hand, leading her back the way they'd come, scanning the ground.

“Did he actually throw it?” Jenna asked, more strength in her voice than there'd been a moment ago.

“I don't know. I was too busy running to pay much attention.”

“He looked like he was going to.”

“You wouldn't know that if you'd done what I'd said and stayed back.” He got down on his belly, peering beneath the cars, his blood freezing when he spotted what he was looking for. “Do you have a cell phone?”

“Yes.”

“Call 911.”

“Is it under there?” She moved closer, and Nikolai shot her a look he hoped would freeze her in place.

He should have known better.

She eased onto her stomach, looked under the car, her hair brushing his arm as she angled to get a better look. He caught a whiff of vanilla and maple syrup, felt the warmth of her shoulder pressing against his, heard her deep inhalation as she saw what he had. “It really
is
a grenade. Should we get it out from under there?”