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Chapter Eight

“ Y ou were right about Lexi Stoltz being in trouble,” Kira said to Joey.

They’d returned to Toni and Nick’s gorgeous Victorian, which had become their base of operations, mainly because it had room for all of them and was closest to where all the action seemed to be happening.

“We found blood and bullet casings in the snow outside, more blood in the house?—”

“She’s okay though,” Joey said with a reassuring look Cait’s way. “She got out. She had to climb … a rope or something.”

“Rope ladder,” Toni confirmed. “It was still hanging from the bedroom window.”

Kira gaped from Joey to Toni and back again.

“What?” Joey asked “I told you?—”

“Yeah, you told me, but I didn’t believe it.” She frowned at the half-sister with the wavy hair in every shade of blonde from ash to caramel. “You really do have it, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I really do. Sometimes I wish I didn’t. But right now it’s good. Right now it’s telling me our sister Lexia is okay. Scared. On the run, but okay.” She frowned and added, “And it’s Lexi. She hates being called Lexia.”

“I’ll make a note.”

“What are we going to do now, though?” Cait asked. “She’s running scared and bad guys are chasing her, and she probably doesn’t even know we’re out here, waiting to help. She might not even know we exist. How can we find her?”

Kira sighed, lowering her head. “My husband’s FBI contact says the guy we think is after her was seen at a motel off 81, near where that crazy accident happened in the wee hours this morning.”

“The one where the guy was throwing homemade bombs at other cars?” Cait asked, a catch in her voice.

“Molotov,” Joey muttered.

Kira nodded. “Right. Not bombs, really. Nothing that was going to do anyone any harm. Most of law enforcement is calling it a prank. One little Molotov cocktail, lots of flash, not much else.”

“It was a diversion. So they could get away.” Joey said it as if it was a proven fact.

Kira was about finished doubting her sister’s abilities. She said, “You think Lexi threw that cocktail, Joey?”

“Not her. The sexy as sin guy who’s with her.”

Caitlin and Toni exchanged a raised-eyebrow look. Kira fired off a text to Michael. “This is good, if you’re right,” she said while tapping her phone.

“Why?” Joey asked.

Kira held up a hand as Michael’s reply popped onto her phone’s screen, then read it aloud, but slowly, so she could stop if she came to anything classified.

“They pulled a print off a piece of the bottle bomb. It belonged to a former FBI explosives expert name of Connor Romano. Nickname …” She looked at Joey. “Molotov.”

“Former FBI? Why’d he leave?” Toni asked.

Kira texted, then waited, then swore under her breath. “His wife and two kids were murdered, possibly by the same guy who’s after Lexi. It was a bomb. And there are some in the Bureau who think he was involved.”

“Our sister’s with a man capable of blowing up his own family?” Caitlin asked a little breathlessly. “God, why are these animals after her, and how are we going to find her?”

The clouds overhead were ominous as Lexi and Romano got out of the RV in the parking lot of a diner just off the highway.

Romano was watchful, suspicious of every stranger who so much as glanced in their direction.

Lexi looked around in a much different way as they headed for the diner, then she paused and pointed.

“Look, there’s a Walmart across the street.

Maybe we ought to pick up some supplies before we leave. ”

“Good idea.”

In the diner, Romano was uneasy. Too many eyes on them, eyes that could describe them later, should White stop by asking questions. But he figured the chances of the bastard checking every diner in every town were slim. And since he’d expect them to continue south, they were even slimmer.

No one in the place seemed to be paying undue attention to them. He breathed a little easier and headed up to the counter. Lexi was already there, ordering a club sandwich and a soda to go in that deep, smoky voice that made a person really listen when she spoke. He stepped up beside her.

“You two together?”

He blinked at the waitress’s question. Lexi said, “Yeah,” and she looked

up at him.

He had trouble pulling free of her eyes, but managed to do it, and gave the waitress a curt nod. “Just double her order.”

Lexi was still looking at him. He felt the touch of her eyes as the waitress punched keys on an old-fashioned cash register that chucked and pinged.

He took the wallet from his pocket, handed over cash and waited for the change.

Why did she find it necessary to look at him like that?

It always felt like she was probing his damn soul.

There was a country song coming from a radio somewhere. Another waitress was busy tacking strands of green garland to the edges of the counter, reminding him of the approaching holiday season. Someone had sprayed the place with a pine-scented air freshener.

A memory slipped into his mind. He heard Justin’s laughter and Jack’s high pitched squeals of delight, and the crinkling and tearing of gift wrap.

The flashback was brief, but vivid, real. And it took him by surprise, because he’d denied himself any real memories for a year and a half. He’d never been able to think back to happy times, only to that night, that explosion that had ended them forever.

The bell over the entrance jangled and he glanced behind him, watching his back as he always did. And then he felt a hot blade slip right into his chest and twist slowly, tearing his insides to shreds.

The little boy who’d come in was no more than five. All dark curls, baby blue eyes and dimples as he grinned up at his father, his tiny hand enfolded in a much bigger one. They moved inside, talking and laughing, choosing a table.

Romano felt the black emptiness in his soul reaching up to claim him. It drew him into the depths of despair, back into his endless grief. He closed his eyes to blot out the image of the happy pair.

They s hould’ve been outside playing. Dammit, why the hell hadn’t the boys been outside?

They never came in until Wendy called them for dinner.

Never. The fenced in back yard was their favorite place in the known universe.

The fort he’d built them, in that young hard maple tree. The jungle gym. The swings.

He felt a warm, firm hand on his shoulder and swung his head around. Lexi’s eyes were wider and browner than ever, and they were damp as they met his. He hated that his pain was so clear to her. It was coming to the surface more than it had in months and he didn’t know why.

Something about her. Something about Lexi.

He gave his head a slight shake. “I’m gonna hit that store across the street for supplies like you suggested, if you’re okay here.” His voice sounded like he’d gargled with gravel.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He nodded, turned, and walked out of the diner.

The door swung closed on the little boy’s laughter and Romano blinked in the crisp December air, wishing it was colder, wishing it could slap his face and snap him out of this grief.

But it wasn’t and it didn’t. Nothing ever had. Maybe nothing ever would.

Lexi stared after him. Part of her wanted to go to him, try to help him through the haze of pain he was obviously battling. But another part knew he wanted to be left alone.

“Miss?”

She turned back to the counter to see the woman on the other side holding out a handful of change. Lexi took it. “Is there a restroom I can use while I’m waiting for the sandwiches?”

The woman nodded, pointing toward the back of the building.

Lexi tried to put Romano’s heartache out of her mind as she walked into the ladies’ room.

She took her time, washed her face, combed her hair, dug through her purse and applied a little bit of makeup she’d found in there.

Eventually, she stopped and just stared at her reflection in the mirror, telling herself she was not Romano’s only hope of salvation.

She wasn’t. He didn’t want her to be, and more importantly, she didn’t want to be.

Some twenty minutes later, when she pushed the door open to head back out, she glanced up to see a man dressed all in black leaning on the counter where she’d been standing.

And for just a second, she stiffened. It was that color that did it.

Everything black, right to the knit cap on his head.

He had everything the thugs at her house had, except the mask and guns.

She started to think she had an overactive imagination. And then she saw the waitress looking at the guy’s cell phone, nodding as her lips formed the word “restroom” and her head tilted toward where Lexi stood.

As if in slow motion, the man’s head started to turn toward her. She ducked back inside before he could see her, closed the door and turned its lock.

Her heart did a little jumpity-jump in her chest. “Not now,” she whispered. “Not now, my pills are in the RV.” She leaned over the sink, wet a paper towel with cold water and slapped it onto the back of her neck. What should she do?

She scanned the restroom. There was one squat window on the back wall, too high to reach from the floor.

Lexi looked around for something to stand on, and settled on the trash can.

It only took a second to remove the rounded top and flip the can upside down.

She silently apologized for the mess as she climbed up.

The window locked from the inside, and she turned the clasp to the unlocked position, mentally crossed her fingers and shoved it upward.

It opened easily, and she thanked her lucky star and climbed up on the ledge, peering outside first. She saw no one, but there was no way to be sure.

Well, she couldn’t just sit there waiting for the jerk to get sick of being patient and come in after her.