He blocked her again. “I can help with that, too.” He opened a drawer below the exam table, leaning down to grab something from it, then closed it. He re-emerged with a cell phone in his hand. “This is a burner. It has 500 minutes on it. After that, you’ll need to buy a Palmchat Wireless card and top it up. You know how to do that?”
“What kind of clinic is this?”
“The kind that cares about helping people, no matter how much trouble they’re in,” he said. “You’re welcome.” He forced the card and the phone into her hands.
“Can I go now?” Britt demanded, glaring at him.
He opened the door for her.
She took a deep breath, then headed to the clinic’s front entrance. She couldn’t stay in Conrad anymore. She had to make it to 67 Nova Lane before The Visitor sent someone else after her.
Chapter 11
Lachlan damn near broke the door off its hinges as he barreled into his home, rounding the corner from the garage into the living room.
“Where is she?” he asked, fear lodged in his throat as he glanced around for his little girl.
After he landed the helicopter at the King Family private heliport, his cell phone had dinged like crazy with phone calls and text messages from the Goat Scout Summer Camp coordinator and then from Stacy.
He read each one with lightning speed as he raced to his SUV.
Titus Freeman was dead and buried, but his daughter was still in danger. This time, from some random psycho with a knife, chasing an unknown woman through the park where the kids in Paloma’s camp were playing. His only solace was that Paloma wasn’t the target. No one was after her, but the situation had left tourists and locals stunned by the brazen chase and attack through the streets of Conrad.
And he hadn’t been on the island when his little girl needed him.
Stacy jumped from the couch, turning to face him. “She’s fine. Poor thing passed out once we got here. I put her to bed.”
He inhaled a sharp breath. “Thank you for picking her up. For being there for her despite … everything going on between us.”
“Where were you?” Stacy demanded.
Lachlan frowned, raking a hand through his hair. He didn’t have time for an inquisition. “Stace, I need to see her with my own eyes. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
He headed down the hallway to the study he’d converted into a bedroom for Paloma. He had to see for himself that Paloma was okay. He couldn’t imagine the hell she and the other children had gone through, fearing for their lives. It tore at his heart that she’d witnessed the strange, unexpected crime. It was enough to leave anyone rattled, especially on a sleepy island like St. Felipe, which had been immune to the crimes dominating St. Killian.
It had to be more traumatizing for children who couldn’t make sense of what was going on or why. He’d protected Paloma from Titus Freeman her whole life, but he couldn’t fucking protect her from the randomness of threats that lurked every day in the world.
The thought made him physically ill.
It was every parent’s worst nightmare.
Turning the doorknob, Lachlan stepped inside. Relief flooded him as he rushed to the bed, kneeling beside it. He rested a hand gently on Paloma’s face as she lay sprawled like a wild sleeping beauty, legs and arms at weird angles, and her blanket twisted around her body. Her dark, curly pigtails spread across her pillow like feathered fans. Soft snores escaped her lips.
Every part of him wanted to snatch her from the bed, hold her, and never let her go. But she’d been through enough today. Any wrong move could trigger more panic and fear, which was the last thing he wanted. Rest was what she needed most. Hereached for the blanket, carefully lifting her limbs to untangle it and spread it across her body. She didn’t stir an inch as he kissed her gently on the forehead, then eased out of her room.
He was only two steps into the living room when Stacy descended upon him with suspicion in her eyes. “We didn’t have a flight on the schedule. Why weren’t you on the island when all this went down?”
He bristled at her rebuke, the subtle demand in her tone as if she was owed an explanation. The accusation in her question was barely disguised. She thought he was with another woman.
And in a way, he was.
Memories of Britt had dominated his thoughts since he’d called out her name when he and Stacy tried to have sex for the first time. Things he’d long forgotten, were now racing through his brain, driving him insane. She was everywhere, which wasn’t surprising since they’d lived together for two years in St. Felipe at his old house on Nova Lane before she’d gotten pregnant.
But living on the run with new identities on Dove Island had been the best days of his life. Dove Island was an enclave of private islands, which were almost exclusively owned by the wealthiest Palmchatters. With the new identities created by Bobby, he’d had Britt all to himself as they created a life that was their own, free from the long, dangerous shadow of her father and the demands from the PIIB.
He’d watched Britt’s belly grow with a little life inside her. Held her hand as she gave birth to their daughter. Spent every waking moment when he wasn’t at work with the woman.
Was it any surprise that he’d felt a pull to go back there?
