Fight or Flight (10 page)

“Finish your story,” Tyler told Regan. “Mine takes up where yours leaves off.”

Kelsey thought her mom would argue, but she only folded her arms and continued. “I went to Illinois first, where I became Regan Miller. Then to Michigan, down to Texas, up to Maine, and finally, when Kelsey needed stability for school, to Ohio. Nothing had happened in nearly five years, and I took a chance I obviously shouldn’t have taken.”

Tyler shook his head. “For someone without a clue how to disappear—a teenage mother with an infant, no less—you did an admirable job.”

“So? Your turn.”

Tyler took a deep breath. “My employer had been searching for you since the day your—Scott died. He finally tracked you down about two years ago and sent me to check on you. I reported that Kelsey was healthy and happy and you seemed to be a typical single mother, and I thought that would be the end of it. But he assigned me to watch you, which I did.”

“Who is ‘he’?”

Kelsey knew the question was pointless, and no doubt her mother did too, but she watched Tyler carefully when he answered.

He gave nothing away. “All I can say is that he’s on your side. But I’m not authorized to say who he is.”

“You make it sound like special ops or national security,” Regan accused.

“In a way, it is.”

Stunned silence filled the room. Kelsey found her voice first, rough as it was. “What part? My father’s death, my mother’s disappearance or my existence?”

Tyler turned to her. “All of it.”

“Whoa,” Van said, behind her.

Kelsey’s mind spun. She’d thought none of it would be a surprise, thought she’d figured out what her mother hadn’t told her. But in a few short minutes, her world had flipped and thrown her on her ass.

“So you’ve been spying on us all this time?” Regan asked, her lips tight and her eyes burning with anger.

Tyler nodded. “Sending very dull reports every month. Nothing ever happened.”

“Must have been a boring two years,” Kelsey said.

“No.” Tyler answered her but kept his gaze on her mother, who couldn’t look away, either. “Far from it.”

Regan shook herself a little. “What’s different? What happened this weekend? I don’t remember you going away before.”

“No. I never did. But I got called in to receive sensitive information they didn’t want to relay electronically.” He shifted and looked down at the floor. “They learned someone else knew where you were.”

Kelsey didn’t understand. Why would someone send him to watch them, if he wasn’t supposed to protect them? But if he was supposed to protect them, leaving his post left them vulnerable.

“Would those be the same people who killed Alan and tried to kill me, and went after Kelsey?” Her mother’s voice had hardened.

Tyler’s jaw flexed, and he was clenching his teeth when he admitted, “Yes.”

“Who conveniently showed up while you were gone?”

“Yes.” He hunched his shoulders. “They sent someone to watch out for you, but he…well, he’s been fired.”

“And what was your purpose in being a few dozen yards away from us at all times?” her mother asked, the question coming fast and hard, like a cop interrogation.

“My purpose—is irrelevant. I failed.”

“What are your orders now?”

“I don’t have any. I’m here on my own.”

Regan didn’t believe him. No one spent two years on a tedious undercover assignment without being completely dedicated to his job and loyal to his employer. That kind of man didn’t go rogue when things changed. He dug in deeper, held tighter to the beliefs that drove him.

But she knew by the set of his jaw and the knot of his folded arms that he wasn’t going to say any more. She hadn’t heard nearly enough, but she didn’t know how to make him tell her the rest.
She
didn’t have that kind of training.

She wondered if he still worked for the government. But why would they have any interest in her or Kelsey? She couldn’t think of anyone who would, except the people who’d killed Scott and tried to kidnap his daughter. She’d always believed it was his parents, or at least someone connected to them. But Tyler said his employer wanted them safe, which didn’t fit.

Her attention shifted to Kelsey and the more immediate worry of her daughter’s reaction to the story of her father’s death. She’d sat back down on the sofa. Tom cradled her against him, stroking her hair while she cried.

The pain in Regan’s chest rivaled that of a heart attack.
She
was supposed to be comforting Kelsey. Not this stranger who’d only been a part of her daughter’s life for two months. Someone who had never suffered a parent being killed in an unspeakably violent way. Regan knew what it was like, knew what Kelsey was probably feeling. Wanting to spare her those emotions was one reason she’d never talked much about it.

A knock on the door was followed by a man calling, “Room service.” Regan and Tyler confirmed it, didn’t let the server into the room, and checked the cart before wheeling it in. The kids fell on the food immediately, Kelsey’s tears forgotten, at least for now.

Regan went to the kitchenette. The open plan of the suite made it impossible to hide, but she could at least distance herself a little. She fussed with the coffeepot so she could turn her back. Every parent faced the transition of their child’s focus from parent to new love. The smart ones prepared themselves for it, and Regan had. Dammit, she had worked hard to counter her own programming.

But this situation had thrust her back into old habits, old needs. She had wanted to rip Kelsey out of Tom’s arms and send him on his way.

She wanted history to not repeat itself.

“Can I help?” Tyler came up beside her and reached for the packet of coffee she couldn’t open. His voice was low, understanding.

Regan blinked hard against the tears. “I’ve got it, thank you.” She bit the top of the packet and tore it. The rich aroma of ground coffee calmed her, and her movements smoothed with the routine of preparing the coffeemaker.

“She’s not abandoning you.” Tyler retrieved mugs from the small sink and rinsed them. “And he’s certainly not trying to take her away from you.”

“I know,” she snapped. “Stop trying to therapeut me.”

“Therapeut?” He laughed. “What the hell is that?”

Regan couldn’t help smiling. “You’re not analyzing me, you’re trying to fix me. Offering amateur therapy. I don’t need it.” She tuned in behind them but couldn’t hear anything, not even Kelsey crying. She looked over her shoulder, but the room was empty.

Abandoning pretense, she slumped against the counter and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “Did you see her face when I said I left him there?”

“No. I wasn’t looking at her.”

Shit
. Regan dropped her hands. “Tyler, that’s got to stop.”

“What does?” But he had his intense, unblinking gaze on her face again. Like he was trying to send her a message without words.

“That.” She pointed at his eyes. “I. Don’t. Trust. You.” She poked his chest with each word. “Trying to make out like you care about me isn’t going to change it.”

“You’ve trusted me to get you this far.”

She couldn’t dispute that. “And I’m grateful for the help you’ve given us. But you’re still not being honest with me.”

His hand balled into a fist and he thumped it on the cabinet above them. “I can’t help that. I’m under orders not to tell you who I work for.” He stood like a man straining against bonds, his jaw flexing as if he were chewing back whatever he wanted tell her.

“You said you’re not under their orders now,” she reminded him.

“They haven’t ordered me to stay with you.”

“Tell me who they are, Tyler.”

“I can’t,” he practically growled, not looking directly at her. “He—they—are afraid of what you’ll do if you find out. They worked hard to find you, to protect you, and don’t want to lose you again.”

Regan slowly shook her head. “That’s why
they
don’t want you to tell me. But you have your own reasons.”

His entire face tightened, as if he knew what she was going to say and it pierced him.

She said it anyway. “You won’t tell me because if you did, I’d know why I can’t trust you.”

He flinched, the barest of movements, and her heart sank. She
wanted
to trust him—even admitted, in weak moments, that she did. And now he’d indicated that she shouldn’t.

“Ms. Miller?”

Regan raised her head. Van stood at the counter dividing the sitting and kitchenette areas. “What is it, hon?”

“I need to call my parents. It’s Sunday, and if I don’t call, they’ll freak out.”

Lord, Regan had lost track of what day of the week it was. “How many classes do you have tomorrow?” She wasn’t sure they could get the kids back in time for tomorrow’s classes.

“Three. But it’s okay if I miss them. They’re not my major, they’re just distribution requirements, and I mean, this is more important. I just don’t think it’s a good idea for my mother to lose it and call the cops and put a nationwide APB on me. You know, in case the bad guys have access to that stuff. Then, knowing her, she’d go to the media and—”

“I get it, Van.”

The girl grinned. “Sorry. I haven’t had time to babble this weekend. It was building up.”

Regan smiled back at her but felt little humor. “Call them. But
please
, don’t tell them what’s going on.” She couldn’t believe she’d just told a kid to lie to her parents.

Van shot her an “I’m not an idiot” look and pulled her cell phone from her pocket. Regan watched her wander across the sitting area and start chatting animatedly. She wanted to hover over her and make sure she didn’t give anything away. The Leighs would probably call the police and make everything more complicated. Like Van said, an APB would reveal their location to whoever was after them. But teenagers were excellent at keeping things from their parents, and after a moment of listening, Regan knew it would be okay. At least, from that perspective. Now she was looking at it from Van’s and Tom’s parents’ side of things, and how she’d feel if she knew her child was missing school
and
in danger. The tension vise tightened around her head. She had to get them back.

Tyler’s hand came up to rest on the back of her neck. His fingers dug into her right shoulder a little, eliciting a moan.

“You want a rubdown?” He shifted her toward him to get a better grip. “You’re all knotted up.”

“No kidding.” Regan let him do it because as soon as his long fingers touched her, the tension loosened. The knots he’d mentioned seemed to melt, and as the muscles relaxed, all her other aches eased, too.

Van kept her conversation short. “All done! They’re happy. And don’t worry about tomorrow. The school won’t even notice I’m not there for days.”

“Thanks, that makes me feel better.”

Van flashed her grin again at Regan’s sarcasm, accompanied by a knowing wink as she disappeared into the bedroom.

“What next?” Tyler asked. His left hand gently rubbed her tender shoulder while his right ran up and down her neck.

“What do you think?” She wouldn’t follow his advice, but knowing what he planned might give her insight into his intentions or—well, she had to admit, she didn’t know what to do at this point.

“I think we’re still safe here, at least temporarily. We should stay tonight and get some more rest.” He didn’t say Regan was the one who needed it, but she knew that was what he meant. She tilted her head and closed her eyes, trying not to let relaxation become arousal under Tyler’s ministrations.

“Tomorrow morning,” he continued, “we take Van and Tom to the train station and send them back to Whetstone. Then we head for my employer in California.”

She tried hard not to tense, but Tyler either felt her reaction or realized his slip, because his hands paused. She didn’t say anything, because that would confirm she knew the significance of his words. He continued the massage, his knuckles gliding down her spine to the small of her back, where he spanned her hips and dug in his thumbs.

Heat flared from deep in her center and burned her skin under his fingers. She drew in a quick breath, and before she could step away Tyler spun her. A matching heat blazed in his eyes. He held her gently by the shoulders, leaned in, eyelids dropping, until his mouth met hers.

As diversionary tactics went this was a good one, Regan thought. She moved closer and lifted her right arm up around his neck. Her left shoulder protested, so she rested her hand and forearm on his chest, her fingertips tracing the cord at the side of his neck. Tyler’s mouth was firm on hers, his technique adequate, but his obvious distraction interfered with the effect he was going for.

Still in full possession of her faculties, Regan opened her mouth and touched her tongue to his. That startled a grunt from him and his arms reflexively pulled her closer to his body.

It was a good body. He was hard everywhere that mattered—and “everywhere” was an inclusive term. She rocked her hips once and he groaned, bracing the back of her head with his hand and diving in to kiss her with full involvement.

Regan’s intentions went out the window. The heat in her belly flared into desire and she began to ache in places she hadn’t ached in years. Not even with Alan. Her bra suddenly felt too tight, her nipples contracting painfully. She lifted one leg to cradle Tyler more intimately, and he pulled back, gasping.

“Holy hell, woman.” He stared down at her. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Clearly.” She dropped her foot to the floor and her hands to the hem of her T-shirt to tug it down. She schooled her breathing and willed away the flush she knew stained her cheeks and chest. Absentmindedly, she put the back of her hand to the bruise on her left cheekbone. It hadn’t hurt while she was kissing him, but it pulsed now. “Next time you want to distract me, you might want to try a grenade or something else more potent.”

He stroked his fingers gently across the bruise, but his eyes narrowed. “Nice try. My ego’s not that big. Besides, I know you were more into it than you’re showing.”

She shrugged. At least it wasn’t showing. “All right, we’ll go with part of your plan. We’ll rest here tonight. Tomorrow you can go to California and I’ll take care of getting the kids back. You’re not coming with us.” She forestalled his protest by raising her hand in front of his face, and tried not to touch his open mouth. “I’m not arguing about it. I appreciate all you’ve done for us until now, but from this point on, it’s me and Kelsey. Like always.”

“You can’t protect her forever,” Tyler said softly. The kids were coming back into the room.

“I have for eighteen years.”

She moved away before he could point out that if she’d done such a good job, they wouldn’t be where they were now. After announcing the plan, she asked to talk to Kelsey alone so Van and Tom wouldn’t argue again. Not that Tom looked like he was going to. So far he’d demonstrated a level head and plenty of concern for Kelsey.

She led her daughter into one of the bedrooms and closed the door.

“Mom, I’m not sure sending them back is a good idea,” Kelsey started.

“We’ll talk about it in a minute. Sit down.” Regan waited until she joined her at the foot of the bed. She began to put her arm around her but stopped, not sure how it would be received and not up to rejection. “We should talk about what you just learned.”

A curtain of soft brown hair shielded Kelsey’s face from her. She waited, letting Kelsey choose where to start. After a moment, she raised her head and slipped her hair behind her ear, looking, to Regan’s relief, like the steady, accepting girl she’d raised.

“You think it’s my grandparents, don’t you?”

Regan’s eyebrows shot up. That was the part prominent in Kelsey’s mind?

“I don’t know. I have nothing to go on except that your father went to see them.”

“So you think they’re after me for some reason.”

Regan honestly didn’t know. She’d thought about it all this time, and had never come to any conclusions. “I would be surprised if the people I met would want to harm you.”

“Which doesn’t answer my question.” Kelsey sighed and leaned her shoulder against her. “I wonder if they knew what happened to Daddy.”

Regan’s heart spasmed at the word. Kelsey had never referred to him that way, on the rare occasions they had discussed him.

“Was it in the papers?” Kelsey asked.

“Some. It was hard to track newspaper reports when we were on the run. I was focused on getting away, being safe. On not being found. And the internet didn’t exist back then, not for people like me.”

Kelsey stared at her. “But it does now. It has for, like, ever. You never looked? What if it was a random thing? If they caught his killer, we
would
have been safe.”

Regan slanted a look at her. “We’re not safe. Obviously. So even if they ‘caught’ his killer, there was no guarantee someone wouldn’t still be after us. But—” she continued to keep Kelsey from arguing more, “—I did track down old articles and learned what I could. It wasn’t much, even once newspapers started putting their archives online. As far as I could tell, they never found out who did it. I don’t even know if they considered me a suspect.”

“I want to see.”

Regan huffed a laugh. “I don’t
have
them. I didn’t keep a portfolio.”

Kelsey jumped up. “No, I mean, Tom has his laptop in his backpack. We can look them up now. And I bet he can find more than you did. He’s a whiz, and you’re—no offense—not that good at searching for stuff.”