Saving Sophie: Book Seven In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series (14 page)

Stone’s cell phone rang as he sat in his living room
, sipping a beer, breathing in the scent of the roasted meat he’d pulled from the oven almost an hour ago. He glanced at the readout on his phone’s display and clenched his jaw, already knowing what this would be about. Might as well get it over with. “Yeah,” he answered.

“What the hell’s going on?” Jerrod demanded. “Sophie’s in the living room more than half hysterical, saying something about stealing and you calling the cops and Abby needing to find Murphy a home.”

He closed his eyes, trying not to care about Sophie’s tears or the way she’d trembled as she stood in front of him, pale and terrified, professing her innocence. “I guess we’ve all got problems.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Stone glanced toward the kitchen and the new table he could see from his seat—his surprise, he assumed—then at the candles and vases and other doodads Sophie had added around the living room, making his house a home. “She’s a con artist and a thief,” he reminded himself as he told Jerrod.

“What makes you say so?”

“The wanted poster I saw of her in Maine today.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to remember a time when he’d ever felt so…miserable and empty.

“There has to be—hold on,” Jerrod said as Abby’s alarmed cry for her husband echoed through the phone. “I’ve gotta call you back.” The line went dead.

Stone sighed as he moved to take another sip from the bottle, pausing when he noticed he was half sitting on one of Sophie’s cardigans she sometimes wore in the evenings. He pulled the lightweight sweater out from under him, catching a whiff of her familiar scent and tossed it away, rubbing at his forehead. “Damn you, Soph. Damn you to hell,” he muttered as his phone rang again. He debated whether or not to answer through the first two rings, then pressed “talk.” This wouldn’t go away until he did. The faster he dealt with Abby and Jerrod, the quicker he could forget Sophie Burke had ever walked into his life. “Yeah.”

“Jesus Christ, McCabe.”

The shock in Jerrod’s voice tightened his stomach. “What?”

“Either Sophie’s a first-class con who’s a genius with makeup, or her prince charming beat the living shit out of her on a regular basis.”

He rushed to his feet, already knowing he’d been wrong. Sophie stealing and intentionally hurting someone didn’t make sense; Sophie being abused did. “What are you talking about?”

Abby murmured something to Jerrod.

“Sophie gave Abby a thumb drive with a bunch of pictures on it for safe keeping—in case something happens to her.”

She’d been some bastard’s punching bag, and he’d accused her of being a liar. He thought of the way she used to flinch and her weary eyes, finally understanding what the ‘complications’ were she’d spoken of while they ate burgers on the hood of his car. If he could’ve been any more of an idiot… “Don’t—don’t let her leave, man.” He grabbed his keys and sprinted out the door. “Keep her there.”

“It’s too late. She already left.”

“Damn it. Why the hell did you let her go?”

“She refused to stay.”

“How long ago?”

“About five minutes.”

“Son of a bitch. Did she say where she was going?”

“No. She didn’t tell Abby much of anything. She left the car keys and Murphy here and took off.”

“Goddamn.” He had to find her. He had a pretty good idea of where she was going. Hanging up, he took his seat behind the wheel and peeled out of the drive, needing to get downtown, hoping he made it to the bus station before she left for good.

~~~~

Sophie got off the bus at the Greyhound depot and walked across the street to the hole-in-the-wall restaurant, locking herself in the dingy bathroom. She glanced at her watch and shook her head with a shaky huff. The hour-long ride from South Grand Avenue had been endless as the bus made stop after stop. She needed to hurry if she wanted to catch the last departure of the night, and that was if it wasn’t already full.

Grabbing a paper towel, she folded the piece twice, turning on the disgusting faucet, and rinsed her face with cool water, hoping to erase her blotchy eyes and pink nose after her bout of endless crying. No matter how she tried to stem her tears, she couldn’t make them stop. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to leave Murphy and Abby…or Stone. She shook her head again as his cold, hard eyes flashed through her mind, then pulled another paper towel from the dispenser, patting her cheeks dry.

Somehow she’d let herself believe she wouldn’t have to run again, and that she could dig roots and make herself a home, but here she was, in some filthy restroom getting ready to move on. She tied her hair back in a loose bun, unrolled a pair of jeans and the light-pink top she had arrived in, and put on the wig she’d hidden among the clothes. She adjusted the choppy bangs into place and changed from the pretty pale blue sundress she bought just for tonight and put on the familiar outfit, her running outfit. Sighing, she folded her dress, rolling it tight, and put it in her bag among her things.

With a final look at herself in the filthy mirror, she walked back outside and crossed the street, watchful for police cruisers. Surely Stone had called her in by now and they were searching. Her cell phone rang again, as it had several times during the ride across town, but she’d ignored it, even though Stone’s number had popped up consistently, as it did now. Did he really expect her to answer? She’d been tempted the few times Abby had tried to reach her, but she left that alone as well. This wasn’t her home anymore. The people she’d grown attached to were just a memory now. She glanced at the phone she’d made her own, her last connection with Los Angeles and the time she’d spent here, and tossed it in the trash barrel at the corner of the building.

She pulled open the door to the Greyhound station, perusing her option for tickets, her urgency to be gone only increasing now that there was nothing left for her here. She wanted to make her way east to Baltimore and stay at the Stowers House until she could figure out what else to do. Heading north was probably best, then she would go south, double back a couple states, and proceed to Maryland. With her heart heavy, she walked to the counter with Dylan’s ID in hand.

“Where to?” the lady said as she smacked her gum.

“I’ll—I’ll take a ticket to Boise please.”

The woman typed up a ticket and handed it over. “Enjoy your trip.”

“Thank you.” She sat in the ugly brown bucket seat farthest from the windows, mindful to stay reasonably close to the door, ready to run if need be. Her lip wobbled and her eyes filled, thinking of Stone’s harsh stare. He believed that she’d stolen. He thought her a liar. She blinked back tears and glanced at her watch, trying to convince herself that it didn’t matter. In thirty more minutes, she would be Boise bound.

She picked up the newspaper someone had left behind as she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Her heart clogged her throat when she saw him running toward the door. “Oh god,” she whispered, unfolding the paper as casually as she could with trembling fingers, and held it up in front of her face. She had her wig. If she played it cool he wouldn’t notice. She dropped the paper to eye level, peeking over the top as he hurried to the counter, muttering something to the attendant.

The gum-smacker shook her head, and he ran toward the bathrooms.

Sophie stood, setting down the newspaper as the door closed behind him in the men’s room. The women’s room door opened next, and Stone called her name. She walked outside just as Stone made his way back to the main lobby. Picking up her pace, she run-walked down the street, hurrying faster, turning the corner in the dark, desperate to get away before Stone turned her over to her worst nightmare.

~~~~

Stone searched the faces of the bored-looking men and women sitting around the lobby, swearing in frustration. He didn’t see Sophie, but he’d been certain she would be here. Leaving the city by bus made the most sense; she knew the schedules and routes well. He stepped outside, his stomach sinking, realizing she was long gone as he pulled his cell phone free of its holder, dialing, trying hers once more, even though it was more than likely too late. She wouldn’t want to talk.

A phone rang close by, catching his attention. He turned toward the trash, rushing to the receptacle, rifling through, grabbing hold of Sophie’s phone. “Damn it.” She’d been here, but she wasn’t anymore.

He scanned the area, spotting the dark-haired woman walking quickly in the light of the streetlamp, wearing a familiar pink t-shirt. She turned the corner, vanishing from his sight.

“Shit.” He sprinted ahead, following the direction she’d taken, rushing around the edge of the building as she ran down the alley. “Sophie!”

She looked over her shoulder and picked up her pace.

He booked it in a dead run. “Sophie!” He gained on her, catching up as she approached the street, snatching her arm. “Sophie.”

“No,” she panted, fighting to pull free of his grip. “Let me go.”

“Hold on.” He grabbed her other arm, keeping her in place.

She tried to yank away again. “Let me
go
.”

“Stop.” He held her tighter, winded. “Wait.”

She stood perfectly still, staring at him with weary, guarded eyes, gasping now as her chest heaved with each unsteady breath while tears poured down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I was wrong. I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t—you didn’t believe me,” she choked out. “You didn’t believe me.”

“Come here.” He pulled her against him, pressing her forehead to his shoulder as she gripped the sides of his shirt, weeping. “I’m sorry,” he said again, as her body shook with her quiet crying. “God, Soph. God.” He took off her wig, needing to see the shiny blond as he rubbed his hand along her back, hating himself for hurting her this way. “I thought I’d lost you.” He hugged her closer, closing his eyes, relieved she was still here. “I thought you were long gone. Let’s go home and—”

“No.” She pulled away, sniffling and shuddering.

“I’m not calling the cops. I never was. I just want to know what the hell’s going on.”

She studied him, scrutinizing, taking another step away, poised to run.

There was no trust here anymore, and he regretted it deeply. “At least let me take you to Abby and Jerrod’s.”

“How do I know you won’t drive me to the precinct down the road?”

“I won’t.”

“I don’t believe you.” She took another step back.

And why should she? If the pictures on the thumb drive were even half as bad as Jerrod had made them out to be, she had every right to be wary of whatever he had to say—of what any man had to say. “I don’t blame you.”

“I’m going back into the bus station, and I’m leaving. You’re going to walk away and let me go.”

“I don’t want to let you go. I want to help you.” He spotted the nasty diner across the street. “Will you at least have coffee with me until the bus gets here?”

She shook her head.

“Please. I won’t stop you from getting on your bus, but at least talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There’s a wanted poster with your picture on it. That’s definitely a conversation piece.”

“I didn’t steal from him.”

“I know you didn’t. I was a dumbass for ever thinking you did.”

Her eyes welled, spilling more tears.

She was weakening, and he was desperate enough to beg. “Please come to the diner with me.”

She looked at her watch. “You’ve got eighteen minutes.”

He nodded and walked with her into the junky place that smelled of stale fried food. Sophie took the seat closest to the door.

He studied her swollen, red-rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks in the bright light, cursing himself again for being so damn stupid. “Two coffees,” he said to the waitress as he sat down across from Sophie. “I want to apologize again.”

She jerked her shoulders, slumped in defeat as she stared down at the table. “It doesn’t matter,” she murmured quietly.

“Yes, it does.” He touched her hand, wanting her to look at him. “I hurt you and accused you of something I know you could never do.”

Her lips wobbled, and she let out a shaky exhale.

Another chink in her armor gone. He needed to fix this before the damn bus came. “I’m a bastard, Soph. You surprise me with a brand new table and a meal, and I accuse you of stealing.”

Her miserable gaze whipped up to his.

“I love it. I wish we were at home eating that hunk of beef you made instead of sitting here.”

The waitress brought over the coffees.

“Thanks.”

“Thank you,” Sophie mumbled. “I can’t go back there with you.”

He was horribly afraid she wouldn’t. “I made a mistake. Seeing the poster and knowing you’re engaged—”

“I’m not engaged.”

“But you were.”

“Yes, I was, but not because I wanted to be. I left the ring behind.”

“You have every right to tell me to kiss your ass, but will you tell me what’s going on instead? Let me help you, Soph. I want to help you.”

She stared at the table for so long he was certain she would tell him to go to hell and be done with him once and for all.

“Please, Soph. Please tell me.”

“The money’s mine. I had a shop at the Bangor Mall—a kiosk. I’d been skimming cash from the register, little bits here and there for several weeks, creating small discrepancies. Eric’s accountants keep track of everything so I had to be careful. He told me I had to close my store, that I wasn’t allowed to work anymore, so I sold off everything and took the entire day’s profits the day I knew I was going to leave.”

He sighed, taking her hand, but she pulled away.

“I met Eric a few months after my mother got sick. Her diagnosis and prognosis were absolutely devastating. One day she seemed perfectly healthy and we were planning our Christmas vacation, the next she’s dying of cervical cancer.” She cupped her hands around the ugly mug. “We were all each other had. She was determined to beat the odds, and she did okay for a little while. She responded well to treatment and kept busy with work, but then she had a couple of complications the next summer and went downhill fairly quickly. Before long I was trying to take care of her, supply and run our shop—basically be all things at twenty-two years old.”