Page 6 of Shadow Games

She had to be about 30 now. He'd met her three years ago, when they’d had a ‘team building’ cookout. Blade had shown up with her on his arm, looking like the cat that ate the cream. Wyatt could remember the scene like it was yesterday. The California wind had been blowing her deep auburn hair, and she’d been laughing as she tried to tuck it behind her ears. Even from across the pavilion, he could see how bright green her eyes were. He hadn't realized when he'd stood up in the middle of a conversation with a teammate and left, crossing to her. She’d looked up at him and smiled, that broad smile that was too good, too sweet, for Blade. He was a terror, and she did not deserve to be with him. Blade had a way of drawing people in, though. It was obvious by the way she leaned on his arm that she was infatuated, looking up at him like he hung the moon.

Wyatt felt cheated.

His parents had had a relationship like that, and he'd always looked for it himself. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to pick from in base bars and airports. Women generally went to the base bars for hookups, and that was it. It was hard to build a relationship on a hookup.

Restless, he got up from the seat and headed forward in the cabin. There was a small fridge below a counter, and he peered inside. He grabbed a can of pop, then snagged a bag of chips from the basket on top of the counter. Reaching back, he grabbed another bag for Echo, in case she was interested. It would take them at least a couple of hours to get to Cleveland. He could stop somewhere and get her a bag of dogfood. She’d been eating natural from the land for so long that he wondered if she’d even eat processed food.

Returning to his chair, he ripped open the bag of chips. Yeah, it's been a while since he'd had these. He handed one to Echo. She nosed it, then lifted her head in disdain. “Fine. More for me then.”

Once he was done with the snack, he rested his head against the chair. It probably wouldn't be a bad idea to take a nap. It was hard to tell when he would get some decent sleep next.

* * *

Rowan turnedover in her cot, but it was no use. There were too many people in this room, and half of them snored. She glanced toward the hallway, wondering if she should just go to the library. There was no way she was sleeping tonight.

The renovated school gym had plenty of room for the fifteen women sleeping in here, but it also echoed. Pushing back the rough blanket, she sat up. Slipping her tennis shoes on, she crept across the room and through the main double doors.

Melissa, a husky woman with short blond hair and hard blue eyes, sat at the door. She was one of the night guards, and Rowan liked her. She smiled at Rowan knowingly. “Not able to sleep?”

Rowan shook her head. Mel crossed her arms across her breasts. “It'll be like that for the first few days. Then you'll settle in.”

Rowan wasn't sure that she would ever be able to sleep here. She didn’t plan on being here that long anyway. “I'm just gonna go down to the library for a while.”

“I figured,” Mel murmured. “Turn off the lights when you leave.”

Walking down the hallway, Rowan wondered at the direction her life had taken. Four days ago, she'd been at a funeral in California for her soon-to-be-ex. Now she was in fear for her life, hiding in a repurposed school.

Fucking Ken.

She couldn't curse him enough. Every time she thought about what he'd done, her blood began to boil. The man had been a supreme narcissist and she’d been taken in hook, line and sinker.

Granted, he had been a Navy SEAL. That didn't give him leeway to act like a total fucking asshole, but he had. And now she was paying for being with him.

A friend of a friend had set them up on a blind date. When they met, he'd been perfect. Handsome. Solicitous. Employed. He'd kind of ticked all her boxes. It had taken her awhile to see the real man. And then she wished she hadn't. Red flags had gone up before they'd even married, but she'd ignored them, too enamored of the dream.

Now she was dealing with the remnants of that dream, and she wanted to be done with it.

In the library, she went straight to the computer, looking up the news headlines. There was Chance. His death was all over the news. The man had been sweet and understanding, but he hadn't understood the gravity of the situation. Now she was left with no lawyer and no great idea of what to do. Who was she supposed to go to for help? Chance was supposed to be her intermediary.

She could go to the press, but she had a feeling that would bring an entirely different kind of shitstorm down on her head.

According to the articles, there were no suspects, which didn’t surprise her. The men chasing her were like ghosts.

There was a crawling between her shoulder blades, like someone was watching her. Someone other than Mel. Glancing at the dark window, she couldn’t even see the lights outside. They’d been blacked out for the safety of the women in the shelter. She seriously doubted anyone could see inside the building. It was probably just paranoia.

The Safe Harbor women’s shelter had been a blessing in a terror-filled night. She’d gone to the lawyer in the hopes that he could set up a meeting with someone high up in the Navy, preferably the Chief of Naval Operations. It was a reach, but why not?

Since Ken had died and the DEA had taken the drugs and money, she had no reason to hang onto the information she’d collected. After she’d left the lawyer’s office, she’d known she was being followed. She just hadn’t been able to see them. It was only as she got closer to her car that she realized they knew where she was going. Without hesitation, she’d turned and headed in the opposite direction, leaving her car behind completely. Everything she needed was in her backpack, anyway. The car had probably been towed by now. At one point she thought she’d heard steps racing after her, but she’d given them the slip.

Then she’d found the shelter. It had saved her months ago when she left Ken, and now it was sheltering her again.

Funny how history repeated itself.

Tiredness throbbed through her body, but she was afraid to close her eyes. Afraid to rely on anyone but herself for her safety. There was only one man she had ever felt safe with, and she had no idea where he was now. Probably dead.

Shutting down the computer, she moved to the shelf of books. Anemic at best. Dime store romances and old magazines that had been donated obviously. She thought one of the books looked familiar. Had she donated it at some point? Restless, she headed to the kitchen. She got a cup of water and swallowed it down, then another. She wasn't eating or drinking well, and she needed to stay hydrated.

Rowan wandered the halls for a while, until she thought she might be able to sleep. Giving Mel a shrug, she headed to her cot. There were fourteen other women here, all running from situations just as dangerous as her own. She didn't have the energy to worry for them, though. Lying down, she pulled the cover over top of her shoulders. Then she pushed it away. It was cool in the room, but the borrowed pajamas were warm. She wanted to pull out her phone and play a game, but she'd vowed to herself to leave it off until she absolutely had to use it. The men who were after her had access to technology. And more money than they knew what to do with.

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