Vanishing Act (13 page)

“Uh-huh,” she managed, even as her brain pounded in pain.

His hand rested gently on her upper back, and she had to fight both the urge to pull away and the one to lean closer into his arms. His eyebrows pulled together, as though he was deep in thought, but when he spoke, his voice was gentle. “Have you had lunch yet?”

“It's not time yet.”

He simply held out his watch to her. It was nearly two o'clock. Where had her morning gone? And as if on cue, her stomach growled.

“Let's go get some lunch, then I'll take you over to the school and you can do some prep for tomorrow's class.”

“All right.” Looking down, she realized that the blue coveralls she wore weren't doing anything for her figure. Not that she wanted to be decked out in her cutest outfit, but Nate looked fresh and clean in his dark jeans and green sweater. She couldn't exactly get gussied up to go work in the classroom, but she could certainly do better than the shapeless tent. “Let me just go and get changed.”

She changed clothes in record time, offered Gretchen a brief explanation and met Nate at his car. He was staring in the direction of the tire tracks as she approached, but he quickly turned his attention to her.

“So where to for lunch? Chinese?”

“Ohh…that does sound good.” A smile actually lifted her cheeks. “I know the waiter at The Panda, Chan Chan. He's great.”

“Chan Chan and The Panda it is, then.” Nate returned her smile as he slid behind the wheel and started the car.

Sure enough, when they arrived at the restaurant, Chan Chan greeted them with his typical jubilance. “Your usual table, Danielle?”

“That'd be great. Thanks.”

She'd hoped that orange chicken, egg drop soup, an egg roll and a wonton would take her mind off of the rest of her life, but as she spooned the first taste of soup into her mouth, she knew it wasn't going to work. This fear she had come to know would be in her life until…well, until it wasn't anymore. Until Goodwill's man was caught or he caught her.

The thought made her stomach roll.

On the other side of the booth, Nate seemed to take notice and caught her in his blue-gray gaze. Concern flickered across his face, but suddenly disappeared. “So what are you hoping to do in the classroom today?” His words were light and they matched his suddenly relaxed posture.
He acted like he didn't have a care in the world, a half grin tugging up one side of his mouth.

She had a sneaking suspicion he was trying to distract her from the weight of the world on her shoulders, and she appreciated it. Indulging him, she went into detail about making sure that she had extra brake pads and shoes laid out for everyone for the next class.

Like a flash the afternoon disappeared, and they arrived at the college. The parking lot was empty except for the enormous trash bin at the end farthest from the building.

“How long do you think you'll be?” Nate asked, pulling into a parking spot.

“I don't know. Maybe an hour or so.”

“Sounds good.” They both got out of the car and headed toward the large brown doors. He walked her all the way to the entrance of her classroom, letting her unlock it before he said, “Let me just take a quick look around. Wait here.” As he disappeared into the room, she saw him reaching for the gun tucked beneath his sweater.

It was the first time that afternoon that he morphed into special-agent mode. He'd done such a good job of keeping her mind off of everything else happening around them, that she had almost forgotten why he was really with her. Their lunch had seemed almost like a date with comfortable conversation and relaxed eye contact.

But it wasn't a date. They'd never go on a date.

Nate was inside her classroom at that moment checking to make sure that there was no one in there waiting to kill her.

She sighed and a frog lodged in the back of her throat. Her life would never be normal again. But did she want normal if Nate wasn't part of it?

“All clear,” he announced, holding the door open for her. “I'm going to take a quick sweep around the perimeter of
the building. I'll be right back. Don't leave this room until I come back.” Then he disappeared. Again.

With a heavy heart and heavier footsteps, she set off for the cabinet with supplies for upcoming classes. She had a job to do regardless if Nate was in her classroom or her life. Andy should be back soon. He would bring some normalcy to her world. And if he was around at the shop, then maybe Nate wouldn't spend so much time so close. Maybe he could watch her from farther away with another man around.

Maybe she could wean herself off of Nate, so that when they parted ways it wouldn't be quite so hard. So her life wouldn't feel quite so empty.

She hated herself for growing so attached to him. When had he become so indispensable? When had just the thought of his ruffled brown hair and early morning beard started bringing a smile to her face?

Even now, she could not ignore the telltale skip of her heart as he opened the door. The sound of his footsteps sent her pulse skittering and brought a smile to her face.

“Back so soon?” she asked, her head still stuck in the cabinet. He didn't respond, so she stepped back to see what else had his attention.

But it wasn't Nate standing by the door.

It was Kirk Banner.

She stumbled back from the cabinet, as he took a step toward her. His eyes were cold, almost vacant, and his face looked almost emotionless. His nose twitched like he was going to scratch it, but he didn't lift a hand. It was then that she noticed that he held a large wrench, tapping it menacingly against the palm of the opposite hand. “I'm going to get what I need. Today.”

She gulped, her mouth suddenly parchment dry. “What do you need?” she croaked.

A sneer transformed his face from that of a relaxed surfer dude to an ominous intruder. Below his unkempt curls his eyes turned hard. Almost evil.

Her gaze darted to the tool chest, but it was across the room, and there was nothing at hand to protect herself. Kirk blocked the path to the only exit, and there was no way she could defend herself against a larger man, especially an armed one. She thought about calling for help, but the building was built of reinforced walls to keep the sounds of the auto shop from disturbing the neighboring classrooms. They were probably empty already anyway.

And Nate, her protector? Well, he was probably on the other side of the building by now.

And here she was face-to-face to Goodwill's man.

She was going to die.

A
s Nate rounded the corner of the building, he spotted an unremarkable car parked three spots over from his own sedan. It hadn't been there before, but he knew he recognized it. He'd definitely seen it in this same lot before class one night.

The rest of the building was deserted, as far as he could tell, so whoever was in the building was inside with only one other person.

Danielle.

Sweat broke out on his forehead, and he sprinted toward the door at the end of the building as though racing for a prize. His feet pounded the ground, but it seemed to take forever for him to reach the entrance. Breaths coming quickly and shoulders rising and falling heavily, he yanked open the door and darted down the hallway passing one, two, three doors.

As he approached the fourth door, he skidded to a halt, sucking in air to control his breathing and silence his movements. The door was open just a crack, and he could hear Danielle speaking softly.

His immediate reaction was to burst through the door, start shooting and ask questions later. But that would just lead to a shootout and probably end with Danielle and the
suspect getting shot. And spending too much time in his head was a surefire way to make a mistake that would bring that result.

He'd never be able to forgive himself if he let that happen.

He needed to be in control, needed to be strong right now. So he leaned toward the small opening and peered into the room. Danielle stood on the far side of the room, her hands held out, palms facing down in a submissive position. Her voice was low and soft.

“Please. What—” her voice broke, so she swallowed, took a deep breath and continued. “Whatever you need. We'll get it worked out.”

He couldn't help but be proud. She was more soothing than some professional negotiators that he'd worked with. The pace and timbre of her words were spot-on. Suddenly he realized that instead of making a plan, he was busy admiring this amazing woman.

Admire later, Nate. Plan now.

“You're right, you're going to give me what I need.” The vaguely familiar voice from the other person in the room was gravelly, not like he was an old man, but rather as though nerves were choking him. The ferocity with which he demanded whatever it was that he needed made him come across more desperate than in control.

Nate's stomach dropped to his knees. Was it possible that whoever was in the room with Danielle wasn't Goodwill's man? If that was the case, it changed the entire situation.

The man took a step toward Danielle, moving into Nate's line of sight. The other man wielded some sort of heavy tool, but a gun was nowhere to be seen. He leaned in menacingly, and Nate knew the time for planning had passed. It was time for action.

He slipped the handgun from beneath his sweater, silently turning off the safety.

“What is it? What do you want?” Danielle asked, her voice still calm and cool. Her eyes darted around the room, probably looking for some way to protect herself.

Holding his gun with a practiced grip, Nate toed the door open an inch at a time while silently praying for protection.
God, please keep Danielle safe. Help me to protect her now and to stay calm. Give me eyes to see and help me use good judgment.

When he was fully inside the room, he cleared his throat softly. The other guy didn't notice, but Danielle's eyes met his across the room. Shock then hope transformed her face. Then something more than hope flowed between them. Or was he just hoping that's what he was seeing?

The other man glanced over his shoulder, then spun around, bringing him face-to-face with Kirk Banner. The other man's arrogance turned to bewilderment, and his face went slack for a moment, as he tried to put the pieces of the new situation together. The wrench in his hand stopped moving for several seconds, and Nate jumped at the chance to take control.

“Kirk, put down the wrench.”

The other man looked at his hands, confusion filtering across his face, as though he didn't even remember that he held a weapon. But when he looked back up, the confusion was gone, replaced by anger. He swore violently before demanding, “Who are you?”

“You know me. I'm Nate Andersen.” He longed to shoot a glance over Kirk's shoulder to get a read on Danielle, but he fought the urge, instead staying focused on the volatile man in front of him. “We're in Danielle's class together.”

“But why do you have a gun?”

“I'm a special agent with the FBI.”

“A special agent?” Kirk rolled the words around his tongue, and for the first time, Nate could tell that his speech was slurred, and the tip of his nose was pink. Kirk shrugged as if it didn't matter. “Who you looking for?”

“It doesn't matter. I'm here now, and I want to make sure no one gets hurt. So put down the wrench and kneel on the floor with your hands behind your head.”

Nate knew the drill. He had to get even an unarmed perp into a submissive position before he could drop his guard enough to get him handcuffed. Kirk had had more than a little bit to drink, and the liquid courage made him unpredictable, which was dangerous for everyone involved.

Taking two subtle steps toward him, Nate closed the gap by half. Now he could almost smell the alcohol seeping from the man's every pore.

“Put it down,” Nate said again, his voice quiet yet unyielding.

Suddenly Kirk's face broke, and tears leaked down his cheeks. The wrench hit the cement floor with a crash, and he spun around to face Danielle, who was watching the whole situation with rapt attention from the opposite side of the practice car.

“I just need an A,” Kirk sobbed. “Don't you see? I just need to pass this class.”

“Why?” Danielle didn't beat around the bush.

“They're going to kick me out of the program! I'm failing all of my engineering classes. My teachers hate me, and they're failing me. And if I don't get an A in this class, they're going to put me on academic probation and kick me out of school.” He sniffled loudly. “I'll never get my degree. I'll end up serving fries and living in my parent's basement forever.

“I tried to change the grade book. I went to your home
and looked for it, but it wasn't there. If it had been there, none of this would have been necessary.”

“You're the one that broke into my house?” Danielle sounded borderline irate, but she kept her distance from him. “Did you break into the cabinet here in the classroom, too?”

Kirk managed a muffled sob and nodded his head quickly, falling to the floor in a heap. His slobbering mess inspired neither sympathy nor understanding. The kid was a jerk to everyone, and he didn't put any effort into this course. He probably didn't put much into any of his classes. Which was why he was failing.

Suddenly a twinge of compassion struck him as he approached Kirk's back. Nate had no idea what kind of life the kid had had. He reached out to grip Kirk's shoulder and offer a bit of encouragement.

Just as his hand touched the other man's gray T-shirt, Nate realized his mistake—he should have kicked the wrench out of reach.

The pain as the wrench connected with his thigh made stars jump before Nate's eyes. He bit down on his lower lip to keep from screaming. He caught his finger just a fraction of an inch before it fully pulled the trigger, and blinked through the pain.

Leg throbbing and eyes watering, he tried to steady the gun in his hand.

In the instant that it took him to blink again, he heard Kirk scrambling toward the door. Nearly blind from the unwelcome tears, he quickly scanned the room. Danielle still stood by the far wall.

Knowing she was safe, he lunged for the other man, catching him around the ankles just before he reached the door. “Don't even think about it,” Nate said as he pushed Kirk's head into the floor just enough to keep him there.
He felt his back pocket for his handcuffs, but suddenly jingling metal caught his attention.

“Looking for these?” Danielle held his cuffs at arm's length.

Nate caught her eye and smiled, as he twisted the restraints into place. “Thanks.”

Her smile was soft, and he had an intense urge to protect his own.

The thought slipped into his mind before he could control it. He liked the idea. They were good for each other. He dwelled on it for a few moments, consciously refusing to dismiss it like he always had before.

Dear Lord, I don't want to be like my dad and grandpa. I want to be a godly man. But I couldn't live with myself if I ever hurt Danielle.

“Will you call the campus police?” he asked, grasping at anything to get his mind into safer territory.

“Really? You want to call the police and get them involved?”

He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Yes. Kirk's going to spend a little time in a place where they don't care if you have a degree or passed any of your college classes.”

As Nate pulled Kirk to his feet, he cringed at the pain in his leg. “Thanks. You made this really easy not to feel sorry for you.”

 

When they finally made it back to her home that night, Danielle wasn't sure she could walk from the car to the front door. Nate parked his car, got out and headed toward the door of her apartment. He was almost there before he looked around, probably just realizing that she hadn't followed him.

He looked at her through the windshield, and she just
managed a slight shoulder shrug and a shake of her head. He smiled at her as he walked to her side of the car.

He opened the door and squatted to her level. A muscle in his jaw jumped and he squinted tightly for just a moment.

“Your leg?”

Quickly back in charge, he smiled. “Yeah, I'll just have a nice purple bruise from our friend Kirk. How about you? The adrenaline wearing off?”

“I guess.”

His smile turned knowing as he tugged on her outstretched hand, kicking the car door closed behind them. She leaned her head on his shoulder as he unlocked her door, letting them into the apartment. At the couch, she fell into the fluffy cushions, and he sat next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and tucking her into his side.

They were silent a long time before she spoke. “You're sure that Kirk wasn't Goodwill's man.” It was a statement. She knew the truth, but she needed confirmation, just one more time.

“Yes.”

“I thought… I was so sure, when he showed up. Ever since you told me who you are, I've just been waiting. I was so sure he was the one after me.” She sighed, looking straight at a brownish plant sitting against the opposite wall without really seeing it.

“I know. I thought so, too. At first. But he wasn't a pro. He'd been drinking and was sloppy. He used a weapon that was handy. Professionals have their own and their favorites.” She couldn't stop the shudder that coursed through her body. He readjusted his arm around her so that she was so close she could feel the beat of his heart under her hand. It raced beneath her palm, and she suddenly understood. He'd been scared, too.

“The campus police checked his story with the registrar's office. They confirmed it. He was afraid of failing and being kicked out of school, so he was willing to do whatever it took.”

They had spent several hours talking with the campus police officer who had arrested Kirk. Nate had gently yet quickly guided him to make some phone calls on their behalf. Officer Geisy had much easier access to school records and had confirmed everything that Kirk had spilled during his breakdown. The officer had then driven off with Kirk in the backseat of the patrol car to book him on charges of attempted assault.

“But why? It's not hard to pass a class like Auto 101,” she said.

He shook his head, the stubble on his cheek catching the hair on the top of her head. “Fear and alcohol can make people do stupid things, I guess.”

She didn't say a word, hoping he would go on.

“I don't personally know about alcohol, but I do know about the fear.” He swallowed thickly. “Sometimes you just get so scared of doing the thing that you don't want to do. You're scared of being the man you despise. You try to ignore it. You do everything you can to pretend like everything's okay, as if you're not worried all the time about doing the worst possible thing.”

She tilted her head to get a good look at his face, but he seemed to be staring at the same brown plant that had caught her eye moments earlier. “What do you mean?”

He shook his head and looked almost surprised when he glanced down at her, almost like he'd forgotten he wasn't alone. He cleared his throat, his dark eyebrows pulling together. Eyes that were usually gentle and filled with concern were suddenly blank, like he was trying to keep her from seeing what was really going on in his mind.

She put her hand on his arm and twisted so they could look at each other more directly. “Nate, you can tell me. Anything.”

His lips pulled up into a half-hearted smile like he didn't quite believe her.

“You can trust me. I trust you.”

“Oh, yeah? Prove it.” His grin turned a little bit wicked, and she was tempted to take the bait and let the conversation move into safer ground.

Instead she said, “I've never told anyone how much I miss my dad.” She had to break eye contact because she could feel her emotions spiraling out of control, and she didn't want Nate to have to figure out how to deal with a basket case. “I loved my mom a lot, and when she died, I really missed her. But I was only a kid, and I could always go to my dad for comfort. He was there for me while I was growing up. It's hard for a man, especially someone who's as quiet and conservative as my dad, to talk to a hormonal teenager, but he was great.” A little chuckle escaped as some particularly uncomfortable memories jumped to mind.

And then it was quiet. Nate's breathing was slow and measured as Danielle waited for him. Settled back into his side, she let her breaths match his rhythm and was almost lulled to sleep when he finally spoke.