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Diana
Had I made the wrong decision?
I don’t have time for those kinds of questions.
How had I gotten everything so wrong? My father, my life, my family. My mind raced, sifting through my childhood memories. Had my father ever cared about me? Had he cared about my mother?
Mama.
Had my mother known? Had she known the kind of man she’d married? Had she brought a daughter into the world, knowing what her husband did to others?
My hands shook as I stepped out of the taxi. Luckily, I hadn’t been so shaken that I hadn’t remembered to take evasive maneuvers when leaving Rafe’s place. I’d walked down the street, crossed over to another street, and then doubled back to the rear corner behind his place before hailing a cab. That way if he had any cameras out front that I didn’t know about, he’d think I went east. Not that I’d stump him for very long. But every minute—hell, every second—helped.
I made it to the bargain department store, legs weak and my breath coming out in ragged gasps.
Get it together. I do not have time for this. If I falter, I am a dead woman. Because at the end of the day, Rafe was going to come for me. And he clearly knew how to kill. He might work for the good guys, but in his view, I was decidedlynotone of the good guys. At least my family wasn’t. And when he caught me, there was no telling what he would do.
I know what I need to do. Stay focused. And get the hell out. When I’m safe and out of sight, then I can think this through.
But first I needed new clothes, a new bag, and definitely a new phone. And I needed them now. I thought of the rolls of cash in my bag. Rafe’s secret stash of money was going to bankroll this little shopping trip. I hated to take money from him, but under the circumstances, I didn’t have much choice.
In less than three minutes, I had three sets of new clothes. Jeans, long-sleeved shirts, T-shirts, underwear, socks. Another pair of shoes. Most importantly, a new phone.
I ran to the checkout line, paid in cash, and then headed straight for the dressing rooms to change. I left the phone Rafe had purchased for me in the bathroom stall. Once he woke up, he’d be able to track me with that. So it had to go.
When all was said and done, I dragged my new clothes into the backpack I’d bought. I tucked my new phone into my back pocket. I snorted softly. The phone Rafe had bought me was a shiny iPhone. The one I’d bought myself was a flip phone. At least it could text though.
Once Rafe tracked my phone—because let’s be serious, he would—he’d come here, but he wouldn’t be able to find me.
As long as I get out in time.
I hustled out of the store, pausing around every corner, well aware of who might be watching, well aware of who might be looking for me. I sent a text to the one person I knew would help me. It was a risk, and I didn’t want to put my friend in danger. But right now I needed a safe place to stay for the night. Rafe would be looking for me in hotels.
Diana
Charisse, it’s Di. There’s been a change of plans. Can I crash?
While I waited, I impatiently inhaled a protein bar, then guzzled a bottle of water. I’d been in such a hurry to leave, I hadn’t eaten anything. At least I had the protein bars for now. Once I got to Charisse’s, I’d be able to get some real food. I only hoped my friend actually read the message and didn’t ignore it since it was coming from an unfamiliar number.
How had I gotten into this mess? What the hell was I going to do?
My first option was to run. Get on a plane, access my trust fund, and bolt. But after everything I’d seen in those files, did I really want to do that? Apparently there were a lot of people, very bad people, looking for anyone named Vandergraff. I could always try going to the man who’d created the fake documents for me, but he worked with my brothers, so that wasn’t the safest option.
Which meant that my current identity as Diana Renquist wasn’t safe either.
I shivered. I had no money, save what I’d taken from Rafe, and my credit cards, which were trackable. What was I going to do?
All I could do was run, use cash, and try to stay off the radar. Maybe color my hair, go back to dark. Go out West. Lay low, live an anonymous life. That was the safest option. But that meant my brothers and Uncle Boris would get away with everything. The things I’d seen in that file… I couldn’t live with myself knowing they were involved in human trafficking. They had to be stopped.
Then there was Rafe.
I closed my eyes, caught off guard by the tsunami of emotion that just thinking about him wrought. All this time, I’d been torn by the conflicting feelings I’d had for him. In a way it was vindicating to know that I hadn’t been wrong. Rafael DeMarco was, if not a good guy exactly, at least someone who was working to make the world a better place. An FBI agent. I hadn’t seen that one coming.
The text I’d been waiting for came in after a few moments.
Charisse
Of course. You know the address.
