The Distraction Page 24

  I scowled. “He was all right. Mostly just sick.”

  He took off his hat and ran his fingers around the brim. “It was good of you to bring him. I offered to give him a ride, but he said he’d rather keep you close. Must be his new good luck charm.”

  Or he really had meant what he’d said about keeping me safe.

  “Something like that,” I said, wondering if it was possible not to love these crazy Flynn men.

  At the front of the room, a woman with a shock of white hair wearing a blue denim dress called the meeting to order.

  “Sit anywhere you like,” Mac said. With that, he approached Thomas, pulled him into a friendly headlock, and then guided him toward the front of the room.

  I sat in the second row to the back, picking at my nails while the woman introduced herself and her addiction, then read from the “Big Book,” the AA Bible. As she quoted the twelve steps, she was greeted with unwavering support. I could feel it all around her in the room, but somehow it seemed to deflect off of me.

  I missed Alec. It was harder now than when he’d been in prison. At least then I knew where he was, and when he was coming back. But here was a place where people accepted one another unconditionally, smiled and hugged and patted one another on the back, and yet all I could feel was the cold cement floor beneath my sandals, and the loneliness weighing down on my chest.

  I guess step one was admitting you had a problem.

  “First time?” came a low voice from behind me.

  I didn’t turn around right away. The sound was too familiar, bringing goose bumps to my skin and a hard, painful ache to my heart.

  My mind was playing tricks on me. Evil, sadistic tricks.

  “Oh, I’m just here for a friend,” I said quietly.

  “Real pain in the ass, isn’t he?”

  I turned my head, but his sharp hiss caused me to freeze.

  “Keep looking forward,” he whispered.

  “Alec.” I closed my eyes. I wanted to see him, look at his face, hold it in my hands as I kissed him.

  I felt my hair move, and then the gentle pull of one small piece as he wound it around his fingers. It sent warm shivers down my neck and back.

  “Hey, baby.”

  “What are you doing here?” I whispered.

  His fingers paused. “Hitting a meeting. Same as anyone else.”

  I glanced slyly over my shoulder, just enough to see a man in slacks and a white button-up shirt, standing by the coffee cart ten feet away. He was watching Alec over the brim of his paper cup. I looked forward.

  “You came with a friend?”

  “Two,” he muttered. The metal foldup chair behind me creaked as he shifted his weight. A moment later I could feel his fingertips graze the skin between the back of my pants and the bottom of my shirt. His touch was warm, electric, and my back straightened in response. A moment later I was leaning back into the cool metal frame, anxious for more.

  “FBI?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  His fingertip crossed my spine, inching toward my waist. I shuddered a breath. The agent at the coffee cart couldn’t see his hand; someone was blocking his view.

  “I’ve missed you, Anna.”

  His fingertip climbed beneath the hem of my shirt, just an inch, but enough to trigger a rush of heat through my veins.

  I’d longed to hear those words, but they didn’t comfort me as I’d hoped.

  “What happened to no more ifs?” I asked.

  “I had to see you.”

  I rubbed the line between my brows with my thumb.

  “How did you know I’d be here?”

  “Lucky guess.”

  “You followed me, you mean.”

  His hand withdrew, and I kicked myself for being so harsh. I didn’t care what had happened at the hospital. I only cared that he was here, now.

  “Your police detail ended this morning. The FBI agreed to a GPS on your car.”

  So I’d been driving around all day being tracked by a bunch of strangers. Great. I didn’t know how he’d heard that Marcos had been sent back to his regular patrol, but it didn’t surprise me.

  “They agreed to a GPS.”

  “I wanted full surveillance, 24/7. We compromised.”

  “I guess that compromise included a day pass from Safe House Summer Camp.”

  His fingers returned to my hair, reminding me of the way he grabbed it by the fistful in the seconds before he came.

  “They’re not holding me prisoner.”

  I turned, but stopped myself before I could look him in the face.

  “Then why haven’t you tried to see me before this?” I couldn’t hide the hurt from my voice.

  It felt like the whole room had gone suddenly still, and in that stillness, everything I’d been trying to hold together started to crack open.

  “You left me,” I said. Maybe I’d been the one to walk out of the hospital, but he’d been the one to turn me away.

  “I had to.”

  “You left me,” I said, quieter this time.

  When he spoke, his voice was no more than a rough whisper.

  “Two days ago you wore those sexy black boots and a blue skirt that showed your thighs. Every man you passed on your way into the salon couldn’t take his eyes off of you. I almost got out of the car and beat some guy half to death just so he would know you’re mine.”

  My body pulsed at his declaration, responding to his possessiveness.

  “You’ve been watching me.”

  The room wasn’t so cold anymore. I could hardly remember what it felt like.

  He leaned closer, and this time when he spoke I could feel his breath on my shoulder.

  “As often as I can.”

  Any concern I’d had that his good-bye in the hospital had been permanent was washed away. I leaned back as much as I could, trying to get closer. “Does Agent Jamison know? She said you refused to talk about me.”

  The room welcomed a new member with a round of applause and a unison “hello.”

  “When did you see her?”

  “She came to the salon. That’s how I found out your dad was . . . sick.”

  Alec didn’t say anything for several seconds.

  “I refuse to talk about your participation in the investigation,” he said. “Your safety . . .” He gave a low groan. “That’s a different story.”

  I chewed on my lower lip, trying to picture him in some safe house trading insights about Maxim Stein for my continued protection.

  “I’m turning around,” I said. “If the FBI knows I’m here, what do they care if we talk to each other?”

  “I’m not taking any more chances,” he said. “No one sees us together. No one uses you to get to me.”

  At the hardness in his voice, I felt myself soften. I reached behind me, placing my knuckles against my lower back. His hand found mine, tracing the lines across my palm. The calluses from his work at the docks were rough and made my smooth skin even more sensitive.

  So the FBI knew Alec and I were here together, but Alec didn’t want anyone else seeing us. I scanned the room, wondering if anyone on Maxim Stein’s payroll had tracked me here looking for Alec.

  “You don’t have to worry about me,” I said.

  “Yes,” he murmured. “I do.”

  There was a rustle behind me, and then a man came to sit in the chair beside Alec. I only caught a glimpse of him from the corner of my eye, but could tell that he was wearing black sweatpants and a muscle shirt, and had the bulk to fill it out.

  “Time’s up,” he said.

  I looked back, but the people in the room were greeting their neighbors, and the man directly in front of me twisted in his chair to face my direction. He held out his hand, which I shook quickly. When I turned back, Alec was already standing.
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br />   He was wearing a hooded sweatshirt, and a blue ball cap covered his rich chocolate hair. It was already growing longer, fringing behind his ears. His eyes found mine, and the depth in them was so striking, I was momentarily frozen, unable to rise. But my gaze was drawn beyond them, to the tight lines around his eyes, the brand of pain, and the prominence of his cheekbones. He’d lost weight since the hospital. His right arm was in a sling, and the hand that emerged was fisted so tightly his knuckles were white.

  “Wait.” I had a hundred questions—Where was he going? How long until I saw him again?—but the agent who’d sat beside us was already ushering him away.

  “Are you okay?” I asked quickly. “Have you seen a doctor?”

  He leaned toward me, and this time I felt his lips brush my ear. The brim of his cap nudged the side of my head.

  “What you did for my dad, that means something. But let Mac take it from here. No more ties to me until after the trial.”

  “Wait . . .”

  “When this is over, I will come home to you. I promise.”

  He’d heard my message—the voice mail I’d left the night Jacob had run away. Knowing he could hear my voice, even if I couldn’t hear his, settled me some, but I still wasn’t ready to let him go. I stood, and tried to follow him down the row, but was blocked by several people shaking hands in the aisle.

  He walked slowly, head down, shoulders hunched, with an FBI agent on each side. They weren’t as tall or broad as he was, but it was his size that made him appear even more defeated.

  It took everything I had not to chase after him.

  Thirty-one

  I did try to pawn Thomas off on Mac, but the man was as stubborn as his son and insisted on coming home with me. He moved to the couch despite my arguments, and booby-trapped my front door and windowsills with cups and mugs that were supposed to make a loud noise if someone tried to break in.

  Who needed a police escort when I had a blind man and his golden retriever?

  Mac came and picked up Thomas in the morning when I went to work. They were going to Mac’s restaurant, a burger joint on the other side of the Bay, where Alec had taken me on our first date. There was enough booze there to drown a horse, but I figured Mac would keep his friend on a short leash.

  It wasn’t easy, but I never told Thomas I’d seen his son. As far as anyone needed to know, Alec was in protective custody. He was safe. And if he got the chance to watch me from afar, I’d make sure he got a good view. One that involved a hip-hugging skirt, an off the shoulder top, and a pair of black stilettos.

  I tried to focus on my short time with Alec, not the frustration that I didn’t know when I’d see him again. He could hear my voice on his messages, that was positive. And he knew where I was, which meant he might show up for another surprise visit soon.

  But he was thin, and hurting, and I seriously doubted the FBI was putting his health before its own needs.

  “I guess you probably saw the news.”

  Amy pulled me from my thoughts. I was sitting in her chair in the salon, twisting a lock of hair around my finger. She was doing something a little concerning with the right side of my head—a twisty rose of hair with a feather she’d pulled from her drawer. Sometimes I wondered if you had to be high in order to appreciate her interpretation of high fashion.

  “Not this morning,” I said. “Why?”

  Her hands came to rest on my shoulders. The curling iron was dangerously close to my left eye, but she didn’t seem concerned.

  “They set a date.”

  “The new Bachelorette couple? Please. Six months, tops.”

  “Come on, it’s at least a year. They have to make it through all the cast reunion interviews.” She waved her hand in front of her face. “That’s not what I’m talking about. They set a date for Maxim Stein’s trial.”

  “What?” I was so loud half of the salon looked my way. Amy pressed me back into my chair.

  “Here.” She handed me her phone so that I could look up the link to the news.

  The story was short, just a couple of paragraphs. After the prosecution had called an emergency meeting with the judge, the trial date had been set. It would start at the beginning of August and was estimated to last two months. Other than a quote from Charlotte MacAfee’s brother, who was pleased to begin the proceedings, there was little else.

  Two and a half months. I scanned the appointment calendar on Amy’s cart. I would see Alec in ten weeks.

  I couldn’t see Alec for ten weeks.

  Had he known last night when he’d seen me at his father’s meeting? He couldn’t have. He would have told me.

  This was all going to be over soon, and then he was coming home to me.

  “Wonder what the emergency meeting was about,” Amy said cynically. She knew what had happened at the hotel. Alec’s lawyer must have informed the judge of the threat.

  That didn’t mean they’d arrested Reznik though, or put Maxim Stein where he should have been, behind bars.

  “You doing all right?” asked Amy.

  I wanted to scream finally, and that’s too far away, and find someone who could tell me exactly what to expect once it started. But the sheer force of the date pummeled me. Everything that Alec had been through—that we had been through—was about to be laid out for judgment before a jury. He would have to face every demon he’d fought to put behind him, including the man who’d raised him up only to shove him down and attempt to kill him. I was most definitely not doing all right.

  Ten more weeks without Alec.

  “I hope that jury kicks Stein’s ass” was all I could say.

  Amy squeezed my shoulder. “Me, too.”

  She returned to curling my hair.

  “So what are we doing tonight?”

  Any plans I’d had seemed shallow in relation to what I’d just learned, but life went on. There was still a full month to wait before the trial.

  “It’s a surprise.” Tomorrow evening I was going to meet her “friend” Jonathan at the new pizza parlor by Paisley’s school, but for tonight, Amy was all mine. Miss Iris was even taking care of Paisley.

  Amy squealed excitedly. “Are you taking me to your naughty stripper class?”

  I cringed. I hadn’t been back to the gym since the last time I had seen Trevor there. He’d been right about putting some distance between us. Even if I did want to talk to him more about the person he loved who’d been hurt, I couldn’t while his feelings for me were getting in the way of our friendship.

  “Nope,” I said.

  “Should I bring dollar bills for tips?”

  I snorted. “Um . . . no.”

  “Are we going dancing?”

  “I’m not telling you.” Honestly, I felt a little bad about hiding it, but she’d never agree to come if I told her.

  The lobby door clanged over the Justin Timberlake song piped in through the speakers as someone entered. I glanced back over my shoulder, surprised to see a familiar face. It was almost six, and Marcos must have been off duty. He was wearing the polo shirt again, tucked in to his khaki pants. Maybe his non-date had become an actual date this time.

  “I’ve got to go see someone,” I said, raking the feathers out of my hair. Amy made a face, but eventually helped me take down the spiral she’d pinned there.

  “You’ll pick me up at seven?” she asked.

  “Yes. Wear workout clothes.”

  And there was the second face.

  “Please tell me we’re not running some hooray-great-cause 5K or something. You know how I detest exercise.”

  “You’ll love it, I promise.”

  Or you’ll kill me, one of the two.

  With a reassuring smile, I headed toward the front desk, but paused before I approached. From my view, I could see Marcos, but he couldn’t see me. He was talking to Derrick, and the smile on
his face was so wide I nearly didn’t recognize him.

  Derrick said something, and Marcos laughed into his hand. A blush rose up his neck. Derrick fixed his collar, and he didn’t shy away, didn’t even move.

  “Oh,” I said out loud.

  Marcos wasn’t here to see me. Marcos was here to see Derrick.

  They both turned at my announcement. Derrick grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. Marcos looked like I’d just told him his grandma had died.

  “Anna.” Whatever he planned on saying next was lost in a storm of coughing.

  “Hey.” Trying desperately not to embarrass him, I closed the distance between us and squeezed his biceps. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Rich has something for you,” said Derrick.

  “Rich?”

  “Is my first name,” muttered Marcos.

  “They give robots first names?” Guess I probably should have known that.

  Marcos elbowed me.

  “Okay,” said Derrick. “I’ve got some paperwork to do. It was good seeing you Rich.” He glanced at me, then back to Marcos. “Um . . . Maybe this is presumptuous, but I have an assistant manager closing up if you wanted to grab a drink later.”

  Marcos went fire engine red. I was pretty sure his head was about to explode.

  “Oh . . . I . . .”

  “He’d love to,” I answered for him.

  “Great.” Derrick grinned at him and then walked away.

  Marcos’s breath left in a huff.

  “Looks like you’ve got a date, big guy.” I patted him on the back.

  His eyes shot to the floor. I wondered how long he’d been out—or if he even was. If I had to guess, I’d say he was pretty new at this game. I’d have to tell Derrick to go easy on him.

  “I ran that plate you mentioned.” Marcos retrieved a piece of folded paper from his pocket. “The car is registered to a Jacqueline Frieda. She’s clean. No priors. Not even a speeding ticket.” He passed me the paper, still unable to meet my gaze.

  The driver’s license picture was a few years old, and a little fuzzy. The woman in the picture had chin-length hair and was halfway into a smile, making it a typical, terrible license picture, but it was definitely the same person who’d been looking for Alec.