Skin Tight (27 page)

A smile built; he loved when seemingly disparate parts came together to form a diabolically clever whole.

“That’s Micor Technologies,” the man repeated. It sounded as if he was writing the name down.

“Yes. Thank you for taking me seriously. Her family deserves to know what became of her.”

“They do indeed,” the other man agreed.

When he terminated the call, Mia kissed him. As they came up for air, he asked, “What was that for?”

“Doing the right thing.”

Søren regarded her in bemusement. “If reform comes with your kisses, then I suspect I could change my ways.”

“Sweet-talker.”

Smiling, he led the way back around to the car lot. He skimmed the cars out front, but none of them were new enough—or flashy enough—to be expensive. That was exactly what they needed. The business office wasn’t open yet, but according to the sign, it would be in five minutes, so he contented himself with looking around. Mia did the same.

“This place is a dump,” she concluded.

“Nothing catches your eye?”

She shot him an
are you kidding
look. But she studied the somewhat disconsolate looking vehicles with renewed intensity. “The Corolla looks decent, and it has only minimal body damage. Those are typically good, reliable cars, and—”

“There are a lot of them on the road,” he finished. “You’re learning.”

“The color is also nondescript.”

Gray.
One could hardly find anything less memorable. There were a couple other possibilities, but he liked the Toyota himself. Søren could tell they were being watched, so he touched Mia gently and often, molding the salesman’s expectations. Altering his body language—making it stiff and slow—created the perception of age, so if anyone came along behind them, this man would tell them his only customer had been some old coot and his sexy young thing.

“What’s wrong?” Mia whispered. “Are you stiff from driving?”

He still wasn’t used to anyone noticing the subtlety of what he did. Stifling a wry smile, he explained the ruse, and her eyes reflected quiet admiration. Søren allowed himself to bask in the pleasure for a few seconds before hobbling on to the next vehicle.

They browsed until a short, middle-aged man unlocked the office and stepped into the sunshine. This salesman wore an honest-to-God leisure suit in a fantastic shade of powder blue, and Søren was pretty sure they’d stopped making wide-collar shirts in the seventies.
Paisley. That’s paisley.
A cravat or a colorful scarf would’ve completed the picture, but no—instead, they got a badly matched toupee. Søren found himself staring in fascination at the red brown synthetic hair, tugged over the fuzzy gray bits.

But the man wore a wide smile at finding them waiting. “Morning, folks. Want a test drive or are you just looking?”

Søren gazed at Mia, as if the moon and stars shone in her eyes. “Whatever she wants.”

Her breath hitched a little, but she mastered herself swiftly. “How much is the Geo?”

“Well, for such a pretty lady, I can make a special deal. Eleven hundred.”

Mia shook her head with every evidence of regret. “We can’t afford that. He’s on a fixed income, and I haven’t been able to find work.”

“Are you new to the area?”

“Yes, we just moved in.”

Søren could see the other man trying to work things out. “Well, it’s mighty kind of you to look after your dad.”

Her eyes widened, and she pressed up against Søren’s side. “Oh, he’s not my father.”

The salesman let that pass, but from the look he gave Søren, he was wondering how many magic pills it took for him to keep his new bride happy. “Why don’t you tell me what your price range is, and I’ll show you what I’ve got in the ballpark.” He paused and then added, “You know if you like that Prizm, I do offer weekly financing. No banks—”

“
No
credit,” Søren snapped in his best crotchety voice. “I don’t hold with it—never have, never will.”

Beside him he felt Mia stiffen in astonishment. He flushed with pride, even though it was a basic skill. As he’d told her previously, any competent voice actor could develop different tones for different roles.

Though they hadn’t discussed it, she said smoothly, “We really can’t spend more than five hundred dollars.”

The salesman scowled. “You should be in a junkyard, not on my lot.”

Mia gazed at him through her lashes, and he saw the other man melt. God knew he’d been on the receiving end of her doe eyes. Good thing this guy didn’t know how much of a shark she was.

“Well, if you’re sure there’s absolutely nothing . . .” She turned as if to lead Søren away.

“Wait.” Before they’d gotten ten feet, the dealer broke. “I guess I could make you a deal on that Toyota.”

“What year is it?” Søren asked.

“1994.”

“That was a good year,” he mused. “My old dog Kip was still alive then. By gum, that hound could hunt. Honey, did I tell you—”

“Yes, dear.” She fielded the “senior” non sequitur without missing a beat. “I know about Kip. The dog ran into a blind and brought out two ducks, and he hadn’t even shot them,” she added in explanation to the salesman, who looked bemused.

“That’s some hound,” the salesman agreed eventually.

Mia pretended to study the Toyota for the first time. “Hm. It has damage on the fender . . . and the bumper. There are rust spots at the bottom of the passenger doors. And this headlight is cracked.”

“Minor,” the salesman snapped. “If you want full disclosure, the air conditioner don’t work, and neither does the cigarette lighter. But the car runs, and for what you’re willing to pay, you won’t do better.”

Mia said, “Well, we like the fresh air and neither of us smoke. That Toyota would be perfect, and you’re the sweetest man ever to work with us like this.”

In short order, they bought the car for cash and drove away. Mia took the wheel until they’d gone a few blocks. At Søren’s request, she pulled into a shopping center and paused while he scanned the cars.

She regarded him quizzically. “What now?”

In answer he peeled the temporary plate card out of the back window and popped a plate from a vehicle of identical make and model, but different production year. It would attract less attention. He knew from experience, cops took note of thirty-day dealer cards.

As he straightened, he found himself very close to Mia. Her skin glowed bronze in the morning light, so warm and lovely he couldn’t resist running a fingertip down her cheek. She reacted with a little shiver, and her response went through him like a blade.

“You were amazing back there,” he said.

“Right back at you. Shall we press on?”

He nodded; there was no real alternative. Søren climbed into the car and drove.

His eyes felt gritty now. The coffee and sugar from breakfast were starting to wear off, siphoned by the use of his ability at the dealership. Rest would be helpful—and with Mia nearby he might even sleep—but they had to push on. Getting to safety was the first priority, and then they had to lay their own plans: a trap for the unwary.

Running could only take you so far.

It was afternoon,
and Mia thought her kidneys might vibrate out of her body.

Breaks at various service stations had carried them from Kentucky into Tennessee. Søren had stopped to fill the trunk with provisions. She didn’t ask his plans because he seemed to prefer doling them out in tiny nibbles. But if his enemies took her, she couldn’t reveal what he hadn’t confided. Pragmatic to the point of painful, no doubt, but that was the world she lived in now.

At times it felt as if she’d passed through the magic glass, and she’d wound up on the other side with Alice, warding off “drink me” bottles and perpetually late rabbits.

Enormous trees patterned the pavement with jade-tinged light. They were high in the mountains, winding along a road that was a little too narrow for her peace of mind. When they turned off said road, she thought Søren might have gone crazy. It was touch and go for a while; she thought the Toyota might not make it over the ruts and overgrown weeds.

Then they came to the cabin at the end, an actual log cabin.

She’d never seen such a thing outside of pictures. Never imagined she’d stay in one. If his “cabin” in Virginia had been tourist-rustic, this was for-real rustic, like someone’s grandfather had built it with the sweat of his brow, maybe after a barn raising.

Søren followed the faint path around to the back. Once he turned off the engine, it continued to tick over, a mechanical cicada protesting the silence. Out here, Mia could hear the birds calling in the trees with perfect clarity, which was somewhat horrifying.

“It used to belong to my parents,” he said quietly. “My
real
parents.”

“Used to.”

“Yes.”

She let that pass for now, as she really wanted out of the damn car. Her ass was both numb and vibrating, a particularly unsettling combination. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s been here for decades.”

“I doubt they have. My parents are getting on in years, and my sisters aren’t much for the mountains.”

Mia climbed out of the Corolla with a moan. “Are you positive the new owner won’t mind us being here?”

“Positive.”

As they unloaded the trunk, she asked, “How can you be sure?”

“Because it’s mine. I used to come up here with Lexie and—”

“Your wife?”

He studied her for a long moment, his gaze leaden like a sky promising rain. “Yes. She came a few times, but she didn’t like it much. She didn’t enjoy the silence or the isolation.”

God, it hurt, knowing he had been married. Presumably he’d loved this other woman with all the fire and devotion she sensed in him, now tamped beneath layers of loss and heartbreak.

“Did you love her?” The question felt like it carried barbs, but she had to know.

“I thought so at the time. Now I think I just wanted to not be alone.”

There was no point in asking; he wouldn’t tell her. And yet she couldn’t resist. His mysteries were endless and alluring. “What was she like?”

But he surprised her.

“Sad,” he said at length.

“In what way?”

“Because her whole life was a lie, and I think on some level, she sensed it.”

“She didn’t know you, then.”

“No,” he said quietly. “Nobody ever did, until you.”

That gave her pause, arms laden with bags. “Not even your parents?”

“When I was a child, perhaps. But as I got older, my gift started affecting them, too.” He answered the unspoken question in her eyes. “No, they don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Where do they think you are? Living here like a hermit?”

“Not exactly.” His icy eyes went queer and distant, gazing over distant treetops as if into the past. “They think I died in that car accident. Everyone expected me to—”

“And your gift supplied the illusion,” she said in horror. “They couldn’t see you. But how did that work? You were hurt, and the staff thought you were dead . . . ?”

“They simply stopped tending me. I left. My scars wouldn’t be so bad if I’d completed the course of treatment.”

Mia trailed him to the door, speechless in sympathy for what he’d suffered. She tried to imagine what it would be like to stand in the same room with your family and tell them desperately:
I’m here. I’m not gone. Please look at me.
While all the words fell on deaf ears. Knowing him as she did, he had probably crawled off, expecting to die and fulfill their expectations. Only he hadn’t. He
couldn’t
. Not until he avenged Lexie—and Søren had an incredibly fierce will. She wrapped her arms about him from behind and leaned her head between his shoulder blades.

Hopeless longing swelled within her; she wanted to learn everything about him, more than the way the hair curled at the nape of his neck when he sweated, the wry quirk of his smile, or the taste of his skin as he thrust inside her. She wanted—

More.

The ache intensified as he set the bags on the ground. She was so damn tired and confused. Her life might well be over, and her head hurt like a son of a bitch. The Aleve she’d taken had long since worn off.

As she watched, he popped the glass sconce from the exterior light and withdrew a key. This must be the place, because the door swung open when he used said key. Inside, the cabin smelled musty, long unused. It was all one room, modernized slightly with a tiny bathroom. Mia gave thanks for that.

Otherwise, the futon doubled as bed, and a handcrafted rocking chair sat in the corner. The low ceiling made the cabin feel cozy and safe. She saw his mother in the homey touches: the braided rag rug on the floor and the brown check curtains on the window.

“If they find us here,” he said, putting away the groceries, “then it means they know who I am.”

She unloaded her bag as well.
Mmmm, beans. That will never get old.
“Won’t they go after your family if they identify you?”

“It’s a risk. But the danger to them would be greater if I sought them out first.”

“Because someone may be watching them.”

“Yes.”

“But . . . how will they know it’s you?”

“Expectation, remember? It can work against me. If someone is watching for me, expecting me to show—”

“Then they recognize you.” Mia sighed. “That’s damned inconvenient.”

Søren offered a tired smile. “Tell me about it.”

“If it’s a woman on surveillance, you could kiss her. Make her forget you were ever there in the onslaught of dreams come true.”

“Somehow I doubt I would be permitted to get that close,” he said dryly. “Try not to worry, Mia. I’ve hidden here before when things got hot. My first few . . . excursions were neither well planned nor well executed. I simply took my pound of flesh.” The grim set of his mouth convinced her not to ask.