How did trying to do something good bring me here?
She went into the house and then the office. She sat at the desk and turned the note over. Maybe she couldn’t fix the rest of the situation she was in, but she could fix this.
Gabe,
You will never know how sorry I am that I let you leave still believing you’d hurt me. My tears were not because of you. No one hurt me, not the way you think. You didn’t break my trust; I violated yours.
Telling you would involve you in a legal mess and potentially put you in danger. If anyone asks, I was gone before you got here. It’ll be better for you if everyone believes that.
I lied to you about many things, but this is the truth: I wanted what we did. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life regretting that I missed my chance to be with you. I cried because my lies kept it from being what it should have been.
Please don’t be sorry.
I’m sorry.
And don’t worry when you see that I’m gone. I’ll land on my feet. I always do.
You are a wonderful man. I wish we had met when I could have told you my real name.
Josephine
She propped the note against the lamp on the desk and rose to her feet. It was only then that she noticed a laptop on the shelf beside it. It didn’t look like Frank’s. It was too new to be one that had been left behind years ago.
Oh, no.
Gabe’s. If he realizes he left it here . . .
She rushed to the hidden lab in the main garage where the bike was still stored. She pushed it out onto the driveway to where she’d parked the truck. She was tying it against one side of the interior when she heard the crunch of tires on gravel.
No. No. No.
If I’m fast, I can pull out before he realizes what I’m doing. Yes, his car can outrun this heap, but that would mean he’d have to chase me and he won’t. He feels too badly to do that.
It was only then that Josephine remembered her dress didn’t have pockets. The keys to the truck were with her purse—in the guest house.
I’m screwed.
No. Don’t panic. He’s back for his laptop, not me. I just need to play it cool long enough for him to go into the house to get it. That’ll give me time to get the keys and leave before he realizes what I’m doing. She stepped out of the back of the truck and was in the process of pulling the door down when Gabe appeared at the bottom of the truck ramp.
“Josie?” He looked her over from head to toe then looked her over again. “Your hair is black.”
Shit. Stay calm. She forced a smile. “I wanted a change.”
“And your eyes—you have blue eyes, but they’re black now.” She could see him processing what that meant and cringed at what she knew was coming. “They were brown when you first met me, weren’t they?”
“Yes.”
He frowned and looked from her to the moving truck to her again. “You’re leaving tonight?”
She clasped her hands in front of her. “It’s for the best.”
“Did you find my note?” he asked in a tight voice.
“I did. I wrote you one on the back of it and left it on the desk.”
His expression darkened. “I meant every word. I can’t tell you—”
“I can’t talk about it now, but read my note.” Trying to distract him from the truck, she walked down the ramp. “When I was in the office in the main house, I saw your laptop. You should go get it before you forget it again.”
He stepped closer and touched her cheek tenderly. “I don’t care about that. Where are you going?”
She laid her hand over his and removed it from her face. “I have friends.” One more lie for the road, but at least this one is to make him feel better.
“You don’t have to leave.”
“I do.” All you have to do is walk away long enough so I can grab my keys. She didn’t allow herself the luxury of emotions. She knew if she did, she would crack and tell him everything.
Which would be yet another selfish decision.
“Did I see a motorcycle in the truck?”
“What?”
“A black motorcycle. You have one in your truck, but I don’t remember seeing one on the ranch.”
“It’s dark. You must have seen a table and thought it was a bike.” A hundred possible lies might have appeased him. She’d uttered the only one that wouldn’t, and she knew it as soon as it was past her lips.
“Really?” he said as he walked up the ramp. “Mind if I take a peek at the table that looks so much like a motorcycle?” He rolled the back door of the truck up. When he turned back to her, his expression was dark.
It was a slow downshift from guilt to suspicion, but Gabe had never been the most trusting of souls. He didn’t believe in fate or most people, which was why he had full-time private investigators on his payroll. Business and personal relationships worked out better when there were no secrets. He’d broken his pattern by sleeping with Josie before knowing more about her.
His gut told him he’d let that beautiful face of hers lead him up a tree with brittle branches and the tumble down might be a painful one. Women dyed their hair. It might mean nothing. Some used color contacts as an enhancement. Again, not a big deal.
Then why lie about it? Vanity? It didn’t fit what he knew about her.
But what do I really know?
I should have called Frank. She said he knows she’s here, but does he? She could be anyone.
A thief even—one trying to leave with a truckload of my family’s things. Or Frank’s.
And I slept with her.
Dammit, what the hell was I thinking?
He remembered how upset she’d been right after they’d had sex. Her tears had been real.
Or she’d wanted him to think they were.
Why?
None of it made sense. He hadn’t liked thinking he’d hurt her, but he didn’t like the alternative any better. Had she played him?
If so, why sleep with me?
Because it put me right where she wanted me? On the defensive? Feeling so guilty that I wouldn’t ask questions?
“Does the bike even belong to you?”
Her mouth opened and shut like a fish trying to breath before she said, “Yes.”
He walked down the ramp and planted himself directly in front of her. “I want to believe you.”
She looked him in the eye. “You can. It is mine.”
A confusing kaleidoscope of emotions swirled within him. If everything was a lie it meant he hadn’t hurt her, which would be a relief. On the other hand, he didn’t want to think she was capable of that kind of deception. She might still be the woman he thought she was. Did she change her hair color to hide from a man? “Are you hiding from someone?” His next thought wasn’t as kind. “The police?”
She looked away. “Of course not.”
Was that guilt or shame? He couldn’t tell. He turned his attention back to something concrete that might provide him with actual answers. “What’s in the boxes?”
Her eyes flew to his again. “Just my things.”
He tested her by watching her expression closely while he said, “You understand I have to check that you’re being honest. My father kept some collectibles here. Things that would be impossible to replace.” It wasn’t true, but she didn’t know that.
All color drained from her face. “I’m not a thief.”
He walked over to one of the boxes and lifted the lid, continuing to watch her reaction while he did. When he looked down at the contents finally, he saw only hair brushes and a few towels and felt like a complete idiot. He replaced the cover, ran a hand through his hair, and his shoulders sagged as another wave of remorse swept over him. “I’m sorry. You must think I’m the biggest asshole. I know you’re not a thief.”
She swallowed visibly. “Thank you.”
He laughed without humor. “When I hoped to have another chance to talk to you this weekend, this wasn’t how I imagined it going.”
“I understand. You don’t know me and how I’m leaving looks damning, but I didn’t think it was right if I stayed.” She cleared her throat nervously. “Don’t feel badly about anything that happened between us. I was upset, but not because you did anything wrong. You did everything right. I’m the one who should be sorry.”
Her words lifted the weight that had sat heavily on him since he’d left her. A brief giddiness filled him. I didn’t hurt her. He was filled with a crazy desire to whoop and swing her around. Things were not as bad as he’d thought they were. That meant . . . “Is there any way we could start over? I’ll even let you pull the gun on me again if you want. That was hot.” Gabe replayed his own words in his head and groaned. “I need you to speak with people who know me. They’ll tell you I am not usually a bumbling idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot,” she said softly.
He leaned in. It was impossible to stand so close to her and not remember the taste of her, to not crave her. He told himself that this thinking led to them rolling around on his shirt beneath the tree house. Which had been a bad decision. But if that were true, why was she standing there looking like she wanted him again? “I feel like one whenever I’m with you. I know what you said earlier. I understand that you don’t want this, but God, I want to kiss you. And despite everything that happened today, I think you want me to. Tell me I’m wrong. Or right.”
She licked her lips but she neither agreed nor denied his claim. “I—you—” She stopped and shook her head. “I don’t know what to say.”
He ran his thumb lightly across her parted lips. “All I want is the truth.”
Chapter Ten
It shouldn’t be this hard. I should be able to tell him whatever he wants to hear and leave knowing that it was the best choice for both of us.
What am I hoping for? That he believes me? What then? Does he help me hide? Wait until I clear my father’s name? What if I don’t? What happens then? Would a man like him want the daughter of a man accused of fraud?
And worse, much worse, what if I tell him, and he gets hurt trying to help me? I’ll then be responsible for the death of two men. Would I be able to live with that?
I don’t want to lie to him anymore.
“The truth is I wasn’t expecting anyone like you to come into my life. That’s why you’re getting mixed signals. I like you, but I’m not ready to be with anyone.”
Gabe’s hand dropped to his side. “I see.”
“I’m sorry.”
He frowned and pocketed his hands. “No, I appreciate your candor.” His tone was formal and Josephine wondered if that was his defense. “I’m sorry, too.” He looked her over slowly. “I’m curious. Why change your hair and eye color? Why the fake tattoo?”
She almost said she liked variety, but being honest with him made her feel like she could breathe again. “It makes my life easier.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know.”
He looked back into the truck. “That’s a unique bike.”
“My dad and I made it.”
He nodded. “After how you described him, I can imagine the two of you working on it together.”
Just then the clasp that she’d used to secure the bike let go, and the bike crashed onto its side, taking down a pile of boxes with it. The contents of some spilled onto the floor of the truck. Unfortunately, one of those boxes held her cash and the fake driver’s licenses she’d created for herself when she’d left the East Coast. Motels required IDs, and she’d wanted to cover her tracks well so she’d made several with different ages and names.
Before Josephine could stop him, Gabe rushed into the truck to right her bike. She knew the moment he saw the IDs because he froze. In painful slow motion, he set the bike onto its stand and began picking up the licenses. He looked as angry as he’d once looked concerned. “Who the hell are you?”
Time for honesty was over. Josephine bolted toward the guest house. He followed in quick pursuit, closing the distance between them with much more speed than she’d anticipated. She was in the process of opening the door to the guest house when he slammed it shut and spun her around.
She considered kneeing him but hesitated and lost the advantage when he guessed her intent. And this is why you don’t sleep with someone you may have to run from. I can’t hurt him.
His hand bit into her arm, and she amended her thoughts.
Much. She tried to knock his hand off and used a self-defense trick she’d been taught to free herself. It didn’t work. His hold on her tightened.
Her temper rose. “Let go of my arm.”
“Answer my question.”
Gabe had never hurt a woman, but he wanted to throttle her. She’d made a fool of him again and again. Remembering how he’d beaten himself up over upsetting her flamed his anger. Whatever game she was playing would end right then and there. “You can tell me or the police, but you’re not going anywhere until I know who you are and what the hell you’re doing here.”
Her eyes rounded with panic. “Don’t call the police.”
“Then start talking, although depending on what I hear I may call them anyway.”
The pleading look she gave him might have worked earlier, but not anymore. “I’m not a criminal if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“You’ve said that before, but you’ll have to excuse me for not believing you.”
Her bottom lip jutted out. “Why ask me anything if you’re not going to believe what I say?”
“I’ll believe your name because I can check it. What is it?” He threw the IDs at her feet. “Not any of these. The real one.”
She pressed her lips together, seeming to weigh her options.
In hostile negotiations the winner was the one who had the least to lose. Gabe nodded at the truck. “How much is what you have in the truck worth to you? It means nothing to me. A match and some gasoline would get rid of half of my problem.”
“You wouldn’t. It’s a rental.”
He laughed at that. “Not under my name.”
She glared at him. “Try it and you’ll kill us both. There are enough volatile chemicals in the truck to flatten everything in a three-hundred-foot radius.”
“Now that sounds like something the police would be interested in.”
Stubborn grit shone in her eyes. “It may not look like it, but I do care about you. That’s why I don’t want you involved in this.”
He shook his head. Try again, babe. I’m not swallowing that one.
With an audible sigh of frustration, she said, “You win. I’ll tell you who I am, but promise me you’ll hear me out before you decide what to do.”
“You’re not in the position to ask me for anything.” He turned and used his phone to take a photo of the truck then snapped a photo of her. He sent both to his security team along with a dictated request for them to check in with him in thirty minutes. If he didn’t answer his phone they were to call the police and give them her photo.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m making sure you won’t make it far if you clock me in the head with something.”
“Who did you send my photo to?”
“My security team. Call it insurance. Plus, it’ll help confirm your identity. Now, what’s your name?”
“Josephine Ashby.” Her shoulders slumped a bit as she said it.
Ashby. The name was familiar, but he couldn’t place why. He sent it to his team and told them he wanted as much as they could find, and he wanted it immediately. “What was your father’s name? Assuming you actually were close to him.”
“Roy Ashby. Everything I said about him was true. He was a good man with a big dream that got ahead of him.”
A moment or so after sending both names to his team, his phone binged with a photo of her as a blonde standing beside an older man. He confirmed that the woman in the photo was the one he wanted information on, along with anything they could uncover about her father. Message after message came
in with links to articles about her father. One was a press release from Raymean Industries. He read it over. It described how her father had died, trying to dispose of evidence that would have proven him guilty of fraud. Raymean was unable to fulfill a large government contract because Ashby had lied about his ability to produce the bike, StealthOff. He finished the article while holding Josie—Josephine—by the arm. “If your father was the one who defrauded Raymean, why are you in hiding? Do you have the money they say he embezzled?”
She tugged at her arm. “My father didn’t embezzle from anyone. I’ll tell you everything, but not while you’re manhandling me.”
He almost loosened his hold but thought better of it. She was feisty and seemed to know a fair share of self-defense moves. “You’ll tell me first, and then I’ll consider releasing you.”
“And if you don’t like what you hear? What are you going to do? Tie me up?” she volleyed back.
“If I have to.” An image of her spread eagle, tied to his bed, sent his blood rushing downward. The problem with interrogating her was that she had a dangerous ability to turn him on and his brain off. If she licked those pouty lips again he might well forget why he was holding her and take her right there on the steps. It didn’t help that she was looking at him with the same hunger he was fighting off.
“Raymean killed my father.”
“Why would they? That doesn’t make sense. They say he took their money with no intention of producing a product. They’d want him alive so they could prosecute him.”
“The only money he took from Raymean was what he needed for the lab. I don’t know what happened to the money they’re talking about.”
“And what money did you take?” He didn’t know how much money she had stashed in those boxes, but the amount he’d seen fall onto the floor of the truck was in large bills.
“I emptied my savings when I ran.”
“Your father died trying to steal the evidence. You’re hiding out on the other side of the country. Your actions speak for themselves. I don’t believe your story.”