Rules of Survival (Entangled Embrace) (8 page)

Chapter Nine

We hadn’t spoken about Shaun’s meltdown at the junkyard, but it was bothering him. I could tell. Truth was, it bothered me, too. I’d never seen anyone lose it like that before. Sure, it’d helped us get away, but it also made me wonder if there was anything I could do or say to make him snap like that and go apeshit on me.

I decided to just let it go for now and brought up Patrick, instead. Unfortunately, that didn’t go over any better.

“I don’t believe it. There’s
another
explanation.” He’d been shaking his head and denying the obvious for an hour now. I half expected him to go into some kind of shock. A pang of regret washed over me and I felt sorry for him. He had the kind of faith in Patrick that I had in Mom. Unshakable and never-ending.

I took a huge bite of my burger and peeked around the side of the building. The coast still looked clear. We’d run from the mall and kept going until we hit the bus station. Shaun refused to go too far, still convinced that Patrick was one of the good guys, so we got off a town over and hunkered down in the dark under a streetlamp behind a McDonald’s just off the highway. Yet as convinced as he kept insisting he was, I saw it in his eyes. Doubt.

“And your explanation would be?”

“They were real cops.” He let his head fall between his knees. A horn blared, followed by rushing wind as traffic moved along. “I just assaulted a federal officer.”

And he said
I
was dramatic? “You did
not
. The badge was fake. And they were going to kill you. What kind of cop would be okay with that? Let’s say—for argument’s sake—that they
were
cops, how did they know to find us there?” I rolled my eyes. “They weren’t cops. They were Jaffe’s men.”

Shaun opened his mouth—then closed it again. He couldn’t deny the obvious. Patrick had been the only one who knew where we were headed. The only explanation was that he’d told Jaffe—be it intentional or accidental.

The light from the streetlamp cast half of Shaun’s face in shadow. There was an odd beauty about it. The contrast between light and dark. So much like the contrast I’d seen in his personality. Moments of great kindness competing with glimpses of rage. I found myself wanting to know more about him. His past and his struggles. The situation he’d run from.
Rules,
I reminded myself. That would go against the rules.

He cocked his brow, unaware of the treasonous thoughts rampaging through my head. “Why would Jaffe send guys posing as FBI? That makes no sense.”

I batted away a small moth that kept trying to land on my burger and pushed the remaining curiosity I had about Shaun from my mind. “Maybe to keep up the charade? You keep telling me that Patrick is a good guy—”

“He
is
,” Shaun insisted, picking his head up. His eyes met mine with challenge and, at that moment, I envied Patrick. Shaun was fiercely loyal and unfailingly devoted. I’d had that kind of connection with Mom and it was gone now. Seeing it reflected in someone else only made the pain more prominent, reminding me of what I’d lost and leaving me hollow.

“So maybe this Jaffe guy thinks so, too. Patrick calls to check in with his boss. Tells him he’s heading down to such and such to snap me up. Jaffe makes sure his guys get there first—but just in case they should cross paths with Patrick—or they fail—he sends them in disguise.”

His mouth fell open. “That is the most
convoluted
thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Is it? You keep saying you’re not going to fork me over if there’s a chance he’ll hurt me. Maybe Jaffe knows that. He needs to come off smelling like a rose.”

“You’re reaching,” he said.

And maybe I was. He was right—not that I’d admit it—the whole thing
was
convoluted, but I still felt it deep in my gut. Those had been Jaffe’s men. Something big was going on here. I just needed to figure out what it was before it got me killed. Or Shaun. He was a pain in the ass, but was starting to grow on me. I still wasn’t sure I trusted him, but deep down, I believed he was a good guy. “We tried it your way, now we try it mine.”

He narrowed his eyes and pushed aside his untouched burger. The moth had given up on mine and settled on his. “What does that mean?”

“It means we still need these stupid cuffs off, and
your
friend can’t be trusted.”

“I’m not going to say this again, so listen carefully,” he growled, fisting the white paper bag. The moth flew away. “Pat had nothing to do with those people showing up at the lot. I don’t care if they were Jaffe’s men, real cops, or whatever.”

“All I’m going to say is that we told Patrick where we were going. Those guys showed up and tried to bag me.” I lifted our joined hands. He still wasn’t getting it. “You need to approach this situation a little differently now. If they snag me, what do you think they’re going to do with you? Pat you on the head and send you along with cookies? You heard that guy at the junkyard.
Kill him.
That’s what he said. You’re the
him
, in case you missed it.”

“You still have no cold, hard proof that those guys are connected to Jaffe. This could be something entirely different.”

Spend your life running from something—even if at the time you have no idea what it is—and you kind of develop a sixth sense for it. It’s instinct. But Shaun wasn’t an act-on-instinct kind of guy. He needed facts and evidence.

That’s why I would give it to him.

“Fine. Then help me
get
proof.” I bent close so I could look him in the eye. “I’ll make you a deal. You help me find out what really happened to my mom—which I believe will prove that this Jaffe guy is the one who had her killed—and I’ll go willingly to the police. You guys can collect your cash and be done with me.”

He glared at me, suspicious. “All of a sudden you don’t mind being turned in?”

There was a rock in his left hand. The muscles in his arm flexed as he absently played with it, squeezing the thing like it was one of those stress balls you found in the drugstores. We’d been chained together nearly an entire day now, and this was the first time I’d really taken a
good
look at him.

The ghost of a thin scar ran from his ear, up across to his forehead, and disappeared into his hairline. It fit, I decided. Gave his face character and depth. Personality. His left eyebrow sat just a hair higher than the right. No. Not higher. Thicker. Like the right had been shaved at some point. A closer inspection revealed another scar, like the skin above it had been damaged somehow.

Apparently my scrutiny was a bit too intense. He waved a hand back and forth in front of my face. “See something you like?”

Shit. I was staring. Heat rushed to my cheeks and my stomach roiled. “I—you had a bug on you.”

“A bug?” He moved closer. When he tilted his head to the side, the light from the street lamp caught his hazel eyes and made them look almost green. My favorite color. “What kind?”

“A bee,” I answered without thinking. “It was a bee. A big one. Huge.”

A smile tugged at the edges of his lips. “Really? A bee? At night?”

“Maybe it was something else,” I backpedaled. Shit-shit-shit. What else? A fuzzy?

He leaned even closer, now only inches away. “Or maybe you just can’t take your eyes off me?”

“
Really?
” I said, recovering and feigning annoyance. The truth, though, was that I was happy his mood seemed lighter. It wasn’t just that he seemed somewhat unstable when he got mad, but happy Shaun—even if he was irritating—was much better.

He made a move to get to his feet. “I could stand up if you want. Make it a little easier for you to survey the entire package…”

I tugged at the chain, bringing him back to the ground. “And anyway…” Shaun was nice to look at—
really
nice—but all it took was a few words from his oversize mouth to ruin the illusion. “If you help me get to the truth, I’ll deal with the cops. I’ll find out who killed her, get the proof I need to not only clear my name but put the bastard away, and be off the hook. Done deal.”

He didn’t answer right away.

“I’m finished with all this, Shaun.” This was the most truth I’d offered anyone aside from Mom my entire life. “I
need
to be done. I loved my mom. More than anything. But I’ve been on the run my entire life—and I don’t have the facts, but I’m
sure
whoever killed her is the reason. I get why she did it now. Running, I mean.” I remembered the small bits from the letter I’d managed to skim. “She was scared. She wanted to keep me safe…but I’m ready to give normal a try.” I
needed
to give normal a try. “No more running.”

His expression softened. “Even if I agreed, how would we even do that? Where are you going to find the proof you need?”

“I’ll start with what I
do
know. Mick. We start by finding out who he is—and where—and how he knew my mom.”

“Mick? You mean the guy your mom mentioned in that letter? So—what? You wanna look him up?”

“Without a last name that might be hard. Mom stopped pulling the big times when I was born—but she still dabbled. She had to, to keep us fed… Whoever he is, if he was important enough for her to name in the letter, one of her ‘friends’ has to know who he was…”

“And you’re suggesting we pay one of said ‘friends’ a visit,” he said, grudgingly.

“Do you have any other ideas?”

He thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. “I feel like this is backing us into a corner. Like we’re being herded. Trapped. I
hate
feeling trapped.”

I picked up his untouched burger and handed it to him. It was cold and smelled horrible—he’d ordered extra-extra pickles. Mom would have liked that about him. She’d loved pickles. I had to take that as a sign that trusting him was the right move. “Welcome to my world…”

…

I was feeling a little paranoid after everything that happened. After hitting the safe-deposit box, we had more than enough cash to rent a motel room for the night, but a familiar itch in my belly told me it would be a bad idea. Jaffe’s men—or whoever they were—were still out there and undoubtedly searching for us. Mom had several associates in the area, but I didn’t trust that the cops weren’t keeping an eye on them in case I made contact. We needed something low-profile. Shaun said he had it covered.

“Why are we sneaking around a Home Depot?” I asked as we crept along the side of the building. It was after ten and the employees were still trickling out the front door. There was a steady breeze now, and even though Shaun insisted I wear his jacket over my shoulders, I was still freezing.

“You said you didn’t want to stay at a hotel, so we need a place to crash for the night.”

“And you were thinking the garden center? Because I’m sure I could find a nice pile of dirt to stick you under…”

He clutched his chest and squeezed both eyes closed for a second. “You’ve wounded me!”

“And yet you’re still here,” I said, trying to hide my smile. Things between us seemed to have taken a turn, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. It was easier. More casual. I found myself forgetting, for chunks at a time, that he was the enemy. “Seriously though, why here?”

He poked his head around the corner of the building and pointed across the lot to the row of sheds. “Free room and board.”

A line of twelve large wooden sheds—some made to look like miniature houses and others the definition of simple—sat a few hundred yards away. “Huh,” I said. This time I didn’t fight the smile. “That’s actually kind of brilliant.”

He winked. “Of course it is.”

We waited, hunkered down around the side of the building for what felt like hours. Finally the last people filtered out to their cars, followed several minutes later by the storefront lights shutting down. After the last car pulled from the lot, Shaun took my hand and started for the sheds.

With a sweeping gesture, he said, “Your castle awaits. Which one will it be?”

I skimmed the long row. A green one at the end caught my eye. It was perfect. There were pristine white shutters that surrounded the two large windows, and intricate latticework around the door. And just below the roof, there was a mock balcony with a host of colorful flowers and leafy greens. I imagined that life here, had it been a real house, would have been perfect.

Mom and I would enjoy relaxed evenings on the balcony, the fragrant scent from the gardens wafting past as we sipped iced tea and gossiped about boys. Then, after it got dark, we’d head into the kitchen and dish some more over pints of ice cream, staying up ’til all hours until we couldn’t keep our eyes open anymore.

“That one,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat, my imaginary future crumbling.

We took one last look to be sure we were alone, then slipped inside. Shaun closed the door behind us and let out a sharp whistle. “Well, shit. I guess the movers didn’t get here yet.”

“No tip for them,” I said, sliding down the wall in the corner. The moon was nearly full, so there was just enough light shining through the window to keep us from being completely in the dark.

Shaun slid down beside me. He was shivering, but I knew better than to try to give his jacket back. I’d tried twice already, saying we should share it at the very least, but he insisted he was fine.

I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. I assumed Shaun would do the same, since we’d both had one hell of a day, but he didn’t. “I slept in a ton of these things when I was younger,” he said after a few minutes.

I opened my eyes. His head was tilted back, aimed at the ceiling, and his eyes were closed. He looked so much younger in that moment. Not a smart-ass bounty hunter in training. Just a guy. Someone lost.

Like me.

When he told me Patrick took him in, he specifically left out why he’d left home to begin with. I knew how it felt to have secrets so I wouldn’t push, but I didn’t mind filling the silence. If I found out more about him as a result, then all the better. Knowledge was power. “Before Patrick found you, you mean?”

“Yeah. It was January during a snowstorm. Spent an entire week in one. Not the best planning on my part, but I was a kid.”