Exposed (13 page)

“Dinner.”

Great. She was trapped in a moving vehicle with a one-word-wielding caveman looking for food.

* * * * *

Seated in Wendell’s Pub, a little spot not too far from the townhome that featured good beer and comfort food, Frank was enjoying the company of the woman across from him and the steak sandwich when his pocket vibrated. Wiping his mouth with the linen napkin, he pulled out his phone and checked the ID. “Hey, Doyle.”

“Got the initial arson report results for you.”

He wasn’t going to ask how Doyle had gotten his hands on that report so quickly. A few years ago, Jake had told him the man had tentacles that extended deep into the police department, even after his disability forced him to retire.

“And?” Frank stared across the table. Sydney had finally stopped pouting at him when they entered the pub and was now working heartily on the chicken chopped salad she’d ordered. He like the fact she had a healthy appetite. Couldn’t stand women who picked at their food like a bird.

“You’re not going to like it.” Doyle’s gravelly voice said on the other end of the line.

The hairs on his neck started to tingle.

“What did it say?”

“The fire was started with an accelerant. Gasoline.”

“Anything else?” he asked. Sydney, fork halfway to her mouth, sat, watching him intently.

“They found what looks like the making of a bomb near the front of the house.”

Now the hairs were doing a Texas two-step on his neck. “That’s very interesting.”

“Don’t know what that little lady’s messed up in, but someone wanted to either hurt her or send a very loud message to her.”

Or someone she knew.

“Thanks, Doyle. I’ll get back to you later.”

“Who’s Doyle?” she asked, then ate the last forkful of her food.

He motioned the waitress for the check. “A friend of Jake Carlisle’s.”

“Another FBI agent?”

“Private Eye. Former cop.”

“Jeez, Frank, it’s like pulling teeth to get any information out of you.” She narrowed her eyes at him, like she wanted to launch herself across the table at him and strangle him. He smothered the smile that image gave him.

Despite how cute her current state of agitation made her, he didn’t think he should push his luck. The waitress came to the table. He took the check, pulled out some bills and handed it back to the waitress, waiting for her to move away before answering. “Jake asked him to see if he could get some information for me.”

“What kind of information?” she asked, as she gathered her purse and jacket.

“I’ll tell you in the car,” he said, standing and waiting for her.

She cast that same slant-eyed look at him as she walked by and headed out the door. “I don’t know what it is you couldn’t tell me here.”

“In the car, Syd,” he said just to irritate her.

“That’s not my name. Do not call me that,” she said, and stomped off in the direction of the SUV.

Suddenly, headlights flashed to the right of them, as a familiar, dark-blue sedan drove around the corner of the parking lot, headed straight for Sydney. And it was picking up speed.

“Syd!” he yelled, as he ran and barreled into her.

Something slammed into him, knocking him sideways, his arms locked around Sydney as he rolled to protect her from the impact of the ground.

CHAPTER TEN

“Frank?” Sydney struggled to move in the death lock he had on her. Her head resting against his chest, she wasn’t sure if that was his heart pounding beneath her ear or her own pulse thrumming so damn loudly. Lifting her head she tried to get his attention again. “Frank, are you okay?”

“Yes.” He opened his eyes, the lines around the corners crinkling with pain for a brief second. Releasing his hold on her he reached up to brush her hair off her face. “Are you?”

“I think so.”

“Good. We need to get out of here,” he said, struggling to sit up while still holding on to her with one hand.

Get out of here? Was he crazy?

“We
need
to call the police.” She managed to stand and pull her phone out of her purse.

He grabbed the phone from her and shoved it in his pocket. “No. No police.”

“What do you mean, no police? Someone just tried to run us over!” She said, as he pulled her by her elbow towards his SUV.

“Exactly. The sedan was the same one Abrams drove.” He stopped on the passenger side, pressed the electronic door opener, and nearly pushed her inside.

Half in and half out of the car, she locked her arm against the car door he was trying to close. “What are you saying? That Detective Abrams just tried to kill us? Why?”

Frank scanned up and down the parking lot. Then he leaned in closer. “Sydney, I have no idea what’s going on, but right now I need to get us out of here. Before whoever tried comes back.”

His eyes said
trust me
.

Trusting someone didn’t come easy to her. The last man she really trusted was her dad, and he’d never come back. But twice now, this man had come to her rescue. If he thought they needed to leave and not call the police, she’d follow his advice.

She nodded, swung farther into the car, and let him close the door.

“Where are we going? Back to the town house or the Craftsman?” she asked after he was in the car, pulling it out of the parking space.

As he maneuvered onto State Street his body was tense and he kept his gaze moving in a circular motion.

The street. The side mirrors. The rearview. Repeat.

He’d gone all Deputy Marshal. Completely alert and working her protection.

“I don’t know. If it was Abrams, we’ve got to get out of this car and into one not registered. Then a safe place to stop and think.”

An idea popped into her head. He’d been doing so much to protect her. She didn’t like feeling like a helpless little girl. It was her turn to come up with a plan.

“I know a place. Head into Westerville.”

He continued on State Street per her directions. “I thought you only had the one house?”

“I do…did. We’re going to a friend’s place.”

He shook his head. “Not sure we should involve more people into this mess or whatever it is going on.”

She laid her hand on his arm as they stopped at a red light. “She’ll be okay with helping us, and won’t ask too many questions. Trust me.”

For a moment he studied her, as if he were trying to decide whether or not to do as she asked, just as she’d done to him earlier. He gave a nod as the light switched to green and headed into the small city that had become a suburb of Columbus a few decades back.

She went to pull her phone out of her purse then remembered Castello had pocketed it back at the pub. “I need my phone,” she said holding out her hand.

Without taking his eyes off the road, he slipped her phone out of his pocket and into her hand, but held his hand over hers, preventing her from taking it.

“What?”

“Remember—” he said, with a glance her way.

“I know. No police.”

He released her hand and focused on driving once more.

Shaking her head, she pulled a number up from her contact list and listened as the phone rang.

“Girl, you’d better be calling to want to use some of my designs in a big fancy fashion exposé,” the sassy voice on the other side said.

“I keep telling you that when you have something new and editorial, I’ll happily feature you in any of the mags.” She couldn’t help but smile. Jontae was the queen of retro design and styling for anyone looking for a late-forties or early-fifties look. She liked copying clothes that had been done and adding in vintage from her racks. She was also the first friend she’d made in Columbus when they were both teens suffering from horrendous loss. Jontae’s mother had died from cancer a month before Sydney’s dad died in the tower. “Hey, are you still at the store?”

“I am. Just closing up since business had slowed to a dead stop. What’s up?”

“I was hoping I could impose on you to let a friend and I use your garage at the store—” Castello’s hand landed on her thigh. She paused, narrowing her eyes at him in question.

“And make a few calls inside,” he said.

She nodded. “And make a few calls inside?”

“Of course you can,” Jontae said. “I just have one question.”

“Sure, what?”

“Who’s the owner of that deep voice I just heard? ’Cause girlfriend, if you’ve been holding out on me about your love life, I’m gonna be mighty pissed at you!”

Sydney laughed. “We literally just met yesterday. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

After they said goodbye, Sydney went to slip her phone in her purse once more.

“Wait a minute,” Frank said, once more laying his hand over hers and the phone.

“What? I told you I wouldn’t call the police.”

“And I believe you.” He gave her hand a little squeeze and a little flutter skittered up her arm. “Do you have GPS tracking on your phone?”

“Of course. Doesn’t everyone?”

“Turn it off. Now. Before we get near your friend’s place.” He pulled over into a fast-food restaurant’s parking lot.

She craned her head around to look out the rear window. “Did you see someone following us?”

“No,” he said, laying his hand on hers and drawing her attention back to the phone. “We don’t want anyone finding us at your friend’s place and I’m sure you don’t want to put her in unnecessary danger.”

He’s doing it again.
Trying to protect not just her, but Jontae, too. And he was right. She’d feel terrible if something happened to her friend.

“So, let’s close down the GPS function.”

“Surely you don’t think someone’s tracking me?” The idea gave her the willies.

“Pull up your Facebook page.”

She did and a post showed them checking in at the burger joint.
Crap. He had a point.
She opened up her settings and immediately disconnected the GPS function, despite the shaking her fingers were suddenly doing. “I can’t imagine the police or anyone searching for me through social media.”

“You’d be surprised what technology we use when we’re trying to find a criminal. You’ll have to do the one on your laptop, too.”

“What about your phone?”

“Never enabled it. Besides, it’s secure beyond any normal measures.”

“Of course. You can’t have criminals trying to find your witnesses. What about the car? Don’t all new models have GPS in them automatically?”

“Yes. But I had this one custom made, and then took out the GPS myself.” He gave her a little wink.

“Bet that screwed your warranty.”

“Wasn’t really worrying about it.” He laughed, a deep rumble that warmed her in spots she shouldn’t be thinking about this close to the man. He might not be worried about the warranty, but she was definitely worrying about her reactions to him. She was getting way too comfortable with the big marshal. Her life was a simple one, and his was full of life and death and intrigue and knowing things like how to use people’s phones to find them.

And how to keep people like me safe.

Silence filled the SUV and she looked over at him, his too-intense scrutiny like a magnet. As if he expected something. “What?”

“Your computer.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, pulling the bag up from the rear floorboard and fishing out her laptop.

“One more thing,” he said, leaning closer.

She glanced up and froze. His mouth was mere inches from hers. Swallowing hard, she moistened her lips. “What?” she said, her voice sounding as breathless as she felt.

“Directions.”

“Directions?”

On what? How to kiss me?

“To your friend’s shop?” he said with a slight lift of his lips.

Duh. Of course.
“Oh. Okay. Go to State and Main, turn left, it’s the Victorian just beyond the alley intersection.”

He gave another rumble of a chuckle and drove out of the parking lot towards Jontae’s boutique. Sydney leaned into the passenger side door and concentrated on her computer once more, hoping he didn’t see the heat filling her face in the passing street lights.

Dang it.
She’d reverted to a silly schoolgirl just at his nearness. Had it been that long since a handsome man paid attention to her? Had she ever been this discombobulated by any man?

Focus. That’s what she needed to do. Focus on finding her brother. Focus on why someone wanted to kill her or the marshal.

There’s an idea
.

She angled her body slightly sideways in her seat to face him. “How do you know Abrams or whoever was in that car was trying to kill me? Given your line of work, wouldn’t it be more likely they were coming after you than me? I mean, maybe one of your witnesses in the protection program has a bad guy hunting them?”

“Legitimate questions. But no.”

“Or maybe someone connected with a case you’re working?”

“Nope.”

Great, he was back to one- and two-word sentences.

“Why not?”

“Been on medical leave since January. No new cases at the moment. Other agents are handling my WitSec cases until I get back. I have no contact with them while I’m out.”

“Medical leave?” She could do the two-word sentence, too.

“Got shot.”

“Where?”

“Knee.”

“Which one?”

“Left,” he said, and she saw the corner of his mouth lift slightly. He was enjoying making her pull the information out of him.

“When?”

“January.”

“Oh, my God, were you part of that big inaugural ball terrorist take-down Abby and Luke were in?”

“Yep.”

“What happened? Was one of your witnesses involved? Were you hunting a fugitive? Or can you even talk about it?”

“I was doing a favor for Luke. Let’s just say the guy owes me one,” he said, turning onto Main Street.

Before she could ask him more questions, he pulled in behind the Victorian-era house.

“Nice place.”

Sydney smiled. “Jontae bought it a few years back. It was once part of the Underground Railroad that ran through the area. She liked the idea that her shop was on the site of where some of her ancestors might have come to escape slavery.”