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Before he could tell her what he thought of that idea, Safe Net interrupted.
“Hi, Boo, it’s Steph.”
Blue leaned toward the speaker. “Boo, you devil. What did you do with my panties?”
A long silence followed. He glowered at her. “I can’t talk now, Steph. I’m listening to an audiobook, and somebody’s about to get stabbed to death.”
The Beav pulled the aviators down on her nose as he disconnected and peered at him over the top. “Sorry. I was bored.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. She was at his mercy, but she refused to give an inch. Intriguing.
He turned up the radio and helped out the Gin Blossoms with a damn good drum fill on the steering wheel. Blue, however, stayed lost in her own world. She didn’t even comment when he flipped the station after Jack Patriot came on again with “Why Not Smile?”
Blue barely heard the radio playing in the background. She was so far out of her element with Dean Robillard that he might have been from a different universe. The trick was not letting him realize she knew it. She wondered if he’d bought into her lie about Monty and the bank accounts. He didn’t give much away, so it was hard to tell, but she couldn’t bear having him know her own mother was the villain.
Virginia was Blue’s only relative, so it had been natural for her to be the cosigner on all Blue’s accounts. Her mother was the last person to steal from anyone. Virginia happily bought her clothes at Salvation Army thrift stores and slept on friends’ couches when she was in the States. Only a humanitarian crisis of epic proportions could have made her take Blue’s money.
Blue had discovered the theft on Friday, three days ago, when she’d tried to use her ATM card. Virginia had left a message on her cell.
“I only have a few minutes, sweetheart. I got into your bank accounts today. I’ll write as soon as I can to explain everything.” Her mother rarely lost control, but Virginia’s soft, sweet voice had broken. “Forgive me, my love. I’m in Colombia. A group of girls I’ve been working with was kidnapped yesterday by one of those armed bands of marauders. They’ll be…raped, forced to become killers themselves. I—I can’t let that happen. I can buy their freedom with your money. I know you’ll see this as an unforgivable breach of trust, my darling, but you’re strong and others aren’t. Please forgive me and—and remember how much I love you.”
Blue stared blindly at the flat Kansas landscape. She hadn’t felt so helpless since she was a kid. The nest egg that had given her the only secur
ity she’d ever known had become ransom money. How did she start over with only eighteen dollars? That wouldn’t even pay for new advertising flyers. She’d feel marginally better if she could call Virginia and scream at her, but her mother didn’t own a phone. If she needed one, she simply borrowed.
“You’re strong and others aren’t.” Blue had grown up hearing those words. “You don’t have to live in fear. You can make your own way. You don’t need to worry about soldiers breaking into your house and dragging you off to prison.”
Blue also didn’t have to worry about soldiers doing much worse.
She tried never to think about what her mother had once endured in a Central American prison. Her sweet, kind mother had been a victim of the unspeakable, yet she’d refused to hold on to hatred. Every night she prayed for the souls of the men who had raped her.
Blue gazed across the passenger seat toward Dean Robillard, a man who took being irresistible for granted. She needed him right now, and maybe the fact that she hadn’t fallen at his feet gave her a weapon, although admittedly a fragile one. All she had to do was keep him interested, and herself fully clothed, until they got to Nashville.
At an early evening rest stop just west of St. Louis, Dean watched Blue standing by a picnic table with her cell. She’d told him she was calling her old roommate in Nashville to make arrangements for a place to meet tomorrow, but she’d just kicked a charcoal grill and slammed her phone back into her purse. His spirits rose. The game wasn’t over after all.
A few hours earlier he’d made the mistake of taking a call from Ronde Frazier, an old teammate who’d retired to St. Louis. Ronde had insisted they get together that night, along with a couple other players in the area. Since Ronde had protected Dean’s ass for five seasons, he couldn’t beg off, even though it screwed up his plans for a night with Blue. But it didn’t look as though things were working out the way she wanted. He took in her disgruntled expression and watched her limp back toward him. “Problem?” he said.
“No. No problem.” She reached for the door handle then dropped her arm. “Well, maybe, a small one. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Like you’ve been doing such a good job of handling things so far?”
“You could be just a little supportive.” She jerked open the door and glared at him over the roof of the car. “Her phone’s been disconnected. Apparently, she moved without letting me know.”
Life had just handed him a frosty mug of cold beer. Surprising how satisfying it was to have a woman like Blue Bailey at his mercy. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said with all kinds of sincerity. “What are you going to do now?”
“I’ll come up with something.”
As he pulled back out on the interstate, he decided it was too bad Mrs. O’Hara didn’t believe in answering her phone or he could have told her that he was on his way to the farm…and bringing along his first overnight guest.
“I’ve been considering your current difficulties, Blue.” He shot past a red convertible. “Here’s what I’m going to suggest…”
Chapter Four
April Robillard closed out her e-mail. What would Dean say if he knew the real identity of his housekeeper? She couldn’t bear thinking about it.
“You want the stove hooked up. Right, Susan?”
No, dude, let’s pop a geranium in it and make a planter. “Yes, hook it up as soon as you can.”
