Broken (35 page)

Snug in his pocket, her phone chimed, but neither of them paid any attention to it.

“Explain this to me, Quinn, because I’m not comprehending it. Two hours ago, we were heading to Chicago—you were about seventy miles away from getting your hands on a hell of a lot of money and now . . . now what? You’re just walking away from it?”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about the money. Your husband can shove it up his ass for all I care. I am
not
taking you up there. I don’t care how many times you insist that he never hurt you, that you weren’t running because he’d abused you. I’m not buying it—you wouldn’t disappear just because you didn’t like being married to him. You’d file for divorce. So either I’m totally misjudging you or there are things you aren’t telling me. Don’t take this wrong, but it might be a little easier on me if I believe the latter option.”

Dear God, you have no idea just how many things I haven’t told you.
She swallowed and then dragged her tongue across her dry lips. “So you’re doing this . . . just letting me walk away, even though I lied to you? Even though you’re so pissed off at me, you can’t even look at me?”

“Being pissed off has nothing to do with why I’m not looking at you.”

“Then why won’t you look at me?” she demanded. She needed him to look at her. She needed to see his face. She needed . . . hell, she couldn’t even begin to understand what she needed just then. “Damn it, turn around and look at me.”

For a second, she didn’t think he would. But finally he did, and when he did, it hurt her like a fist straight to the solar plexus. His eyes . . . was she imagining things, or were they a little damp . . . almost like tears? But he wasn’t the kind of guy to cry over things.

Not over
her
.

Shaken to the core, she was unable to do a damn thing except stand there, staring at him while her mind tried to process everything. He dipped his head and brushed his lips over hers. “Good-bye, Sarah,” he murmured against her lips and then he pulled back and turned away.

He didn’t slow down when she called his name.

When she grabbed his arm, tried once more to make him stop, he just shrugged her away and kept walking. Halfway across the parking lot, she stopped in her tracks and just stared at his back, watching him as he walked away from her.

Watching as he walked out of her life.

I
T didn’t take her long to figure out what to do once Quinn left her in the middle of the bus station. Stranded her—except he hadn’t, not really. She had her money and all she needed to do was figure out where she wanted to go. She could disappear. Nobody but Quinn knew she was here.

Nobody would know if she bought a ticket and slipped away from Chicago once more. She could start running again.

But she was so was damn tired of letting James Morgan control her life like this. He had already controlled peoples’ lives for far too long. With that thought burning bright in her mind, she made her way to the ticket counter and requested a bus ticket to Chicago.

“Just one?” the lady behind the counter asked, a bored expression on her face.

Staring at the counter, she answered, “Yes. Just one ticket.”

Alone. She was going alone to Chicago.

AFTER she bought her ticket, she made her way to a phone. She had a call to make.

Actually, she
should
be making two calls. But one of them would try to talk her out of this, and she wasn’t going to waste the time.

She’d made her decision.

Still, that first call had to be made. She needed information. With a bastard like James, information and knowledge were weapons, and she needed to know what she’d have. She couldn’t get that info until she made the calls. While she’d rather not do it in such a public place, she didn’t have much choice. Quinn still had her phone.

Quinn . . .

She closed her eyes against the onslaught of pain. She’d trusted him, and he’d hurt her.

Look where it had landed her.

She’d trusted him . . . and he’d let her go.

Just walked out of her life. For some reason, that hurt every bit as much as his betrayal. Every bit as much as his lack of faith. He’d walked away. Like she hadn’t mattered.

You’re not being fair
, a quiet, oh-so-reasonable voice whispered inside her mind.

Yeah, he’d walked away.

Hadn’t believed in her—but he’d wanted to.

Betrayed her—but she’d betrayed him. Even though she hadn’t wanted to, she’d still betrayed him. They hadn’t ever had much reason to trust each other.

He’d walked away, leaving her to make her own choice. He hadn’t tried to force her to Chicago—that had been the plan and he hadn’t been able to do it. Considering the kind of man he was, considering that he’d been doing his job—man, a fucking bounty hunter—she suspected it hadn’t been easy for him to just turn his back on his responsibilities. Quinn wasn’t the kind of man who took his obligations lightly. She knew that much about him.

Sighing, she leaned against the wall and fed quarters into the phone. Punching in the number from memory, she kept her eyes focused on the crowd of people. In all likelihood, she was safe here. Only Quinn knew where she was, and he wasn’t going to share that information. She knew it as well as she knew her own name.

“It’s me.”

There was a pause. “Why are you calling from a pay phone?”

“Because I don’t have my cell phone anymore.”

“That isn’t wise. I need to be able to reach you. Especially now.”

“Why, because of these ‘problems’?”

“The problems, yes.” The speaker was cautious. “But there are other concerns—certain issues that are close to being wrapped up. I need to be able to contact you. You need a new phone.”

She stuck her tongue out at the phone. “Gee, really?”

“What happened to yours?”

“Long story,” she said with a sigh. Once more, she scanned the crowd, unable to relax. “I’m coming back to Chicago.”

“I’d expected as much. When?”

“Now.”

“Is there an echo in here?” she snapped. “Yes, I’m coming back to Chicago. Now.”

“Haven’t you received the messages I’ve sent you?”

Frowning, she jerked a shoulder in a restless shrug. “The new ones? No—I haven’t had access to the phone.” She gave a short, concise explanation, leaving out most of the details. “I knew you were calling, but I couldn’t call back. Although I really wish I’d known Morgan had gone to a private investigator. Not that it matters now. Look, I don’t have time for chitchat. I just wanted to let you know I’m heading back. You need to be prepared.”

“This isn’t wise. All I need is a few more days. Give me a few more.”

“No.” She was tired of waiting. She was tired of putting her life on hold. If everything that mattered to her had to go straight to hell, then damn it, she’d make sure that Morgan had the same problem.

Without waiting for an answer, she hung up the phone. She didn’t have time for this. She needed to plan. She needed to see to other details. And she needed a little bit of time to hide in the bathroom and panic.

DON lowered the phone and smoothed a hand down his tie.

He hadn’t been anticipating this, not this early.

He glanced at the watch on his wrist then closed his eyes, blew out a measured breath. “Now what?” he muttered.

“Sir?”

Opening his eyes, he looked up and saw one of the receptionists standing in the doorway. “Yes?”

Although there was puzzlement in her gaze, she gave him a polite smile and said, “I’m sorry, sir. But Ms. Mather is on the line for Mr. Morgan. Should I interrupt him?”

He nodded.

Yes. By all means, let the woman talk to James first. Maybe by the time she was done, he’d have settled his thoughts.

ALL around her people were moving around, stowing their bags, getting out their laptops or books, chatting. Somewhere in the back, there was a little kid crying and the low sounds of his mother’s voice as she tried to calm him.

She tried to tune all of it out.

She needed to think.

Plan.

Push Quinn Rafferty out of her thoughts.

Doubt, fear, and anger waged a war inside her. Doubt—was she doing the right thing? Fear—what she was doing was dangerous. Anger—so much anger—she was pissed off for being afraid, for having doubts, for the circumstances that had put her here.

She couldn’t do much about her anger, but she wasn’t going to keep dealing with the doubts. She was going to face her fear.

She was this close. This close . . . and if she started running again, she might as well resign herself to never stopping. It was a thought that depressed the hell out of her.

This had to happen. And it was going to happen
now
.

“Why
not
?”

Fury blazed inside her, washing away the last vestiges of doubt, clearing the cloud of fear. She was pissed, utterly pissed, and for the first time in years, she could let it fill her. She didn’t have to tamp it down, funnel it away, and store it up. The time to let it out had come.