Page 28 of Dusty
Closing her eyes, her mind went back to that night. She’d been naïve and stupid, not suspecting anything when Cooper asked her to meet him at the Kerrigan offices. It wasn’t out of the ordinary; after all, she was his fiancée, and he said he had something “special” he wanted to share with her. Only when she’d shown up, he’d led her to Vincent’s office, opening the door and shoving her through. She remembered starting to scream when she saw Vincent sprawled on the carpet, a pool of dark blood spreading from beneath his head. Cooper’s hand slammed across her mouth, muffling the sound.
She’d struggled in his arms, fighting for all she was worth, but Cooper’s hold didn’t budge an inch. The man was vain about his appearance and his health, working out nearly every day, and he was strong—far stronger than her—and she couldn’t break free. When he pushed her, she’d stumbled, landing beside Vincent’s body, her hands feeling the cooling blood against her fingertips. When she tried to stand, he clamped a manicured hand on her shoulder, forcing her to stay on her knees beside the body. Bile had risen in her throat, and she fought to keep it down. Somewhere in her mind, she tried to pretend this was all a dream—a horrible nightmare—and she’d wake up and Vincent would still be alive. Cooper wouldn’t be an unfeeling monster.
Something cold was shoved into her hand, and when she looked down, she saw the gun, its silver color gleaming in the office lights. For the first time, she noticed Cooper was wearing gloves, and her brain couldn’t process the fact he wasn’t acting like himself. Only he was. This was the man she’d told the FBI about. The man who’d killed three people, no, wait, Vincent made four.
The grip of the gun felt slick against her hand, and she tossed it down, turning to stare at Cooper, only to find another gun pointed directly at her head. He’d forced her to pick up the gun she’d dropped, and put her finger on the trigger. Mind whirling, she realized exactly what he was doing by putting her fingerprints on the trigger. The authorities would think she was the one who’d pulled the trigger. They would arrest her. She’d go on trial for murder. No one would believe she hadn’t killed him, especially since she was pretty sure Cooper would be happy to testify against her.
All of this because she’d gone to the FBI. Cooper would win. He always won.
At the sound of a car horn, her eyes flew open, and she remembered she wasn’t in Chicago. She wasn’t standing over Vincent Frame’s body, listening to Cooper call 911 and report a murder. No, she was sitting beside Dusty on the way to San Antonio, to get the copy of the files she’d hidden. The files Cooper was willing to kill her over. If only that cop hadn’t blabbed to Cooper about her keeping a copy, and handing over the originals, she wouldn’t be in this mess. Why couldn’t he have kept his mouth closed? Better yet, why hadn’t she, instead of telling him about holding onto the copy for safekeeping.
The silence between them stretched like a taut wire. Dusty kept his eyes on the road, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. She wasn’t sure if it was anger or concern etched into the lines of his face.
“I think they’re probably watching the highways.” His voice was low, gravelly, his tone not one she was used to hearing from him.
Sharon flinched at the sudden break in silence. “Cooper has eyes everywhere. But he’s not expecting me to return to a city where his people almost caught up to me once. He knows I’m running scared.” She clutched her arms across her chest, feelingthe weight of everything that had happened like a boulder sitting on her chest. “That’s to our advantage.”
Dusty nodded, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “Rafe said we’ve got three days before I need to be back in Shiloh Springs. Three days to get the evidence, maybe set a false trail for Madison’s people to follow. Will that be enough time for you to get everything you’ve hidden?”
“It has to be,” Sharon whispered, watching the sun hide behind a bank of clouds tinged with gray, and wondered if they were going to get another storm. Something about the colors felt like an omen.
“What’s going through that mind of yours?” Dusty asked, stealing a glance at her.
“Why are you helping me?” The question had been burning inside her since they’d fled Shiloh Springs. “You’re risking everything solely on my word. You don’t know everything I’ve done, nobody does. Most people wouldn’t trust me without some kind of proof.”
His eyes, dark and serious, met hers briefly before returning to the road. “I’ve spent a lot of years recognizing the difference between someone running from the law and someone running for their life.” His hand moved across the seat, hesitating before covering hers. “Besides, I’ve seen Madison’s type before. Men who think their money puts them above consequences.”
The warmth of his touch sent an inappropriate flutter through her chest. This wasn’t the time for her heart to notice the strength in his hands, or the way his profile caught the fading light, or the golden highlights in his hair.
“We’re being followed,” Dusty said suddenly, his voice calm but alert.
Sharon’s heart lurched as she checked the side mirror. She had to watch for several heartbeats before she spotted them.Three cars back, a dark SUV was keeping pace. “How did they find us so quickly?”
“Could be coincidence,” Dusty said, but his expression told her he didn’t believe that any more than she did.
“I need to ditch this phone,” Sharon said, pulling out the burner she’d purchased two days ago. “They must have tracked it somehow.”
“Wait.” Dusty’s hand gripped her wrist. “If they’re tracking it, we can use that. There’s a truck stop coming up in ten miles. We’ll stick it in another vehicle, let them chase their tails for a while.”
Sharon nodded, understanding blooming between them without further explanation. The connection terrified her almost as much as Cooper’s men did. She’d learned the hard way that trust was a luxury she couldn’t afford.
As they continued down the roadway, the weight of the hidden evidence felt heavier than ever. The truth about Vincent’s murder and Cooper’s empire was their only leverage, but getting it into the right hands would take more than luck. It would take someone on the inside, someone Cooper hadn’t bought. Which meant getting everything she had to Antonio Boudreau. Ms. Patti was right, she could trust him. So far, he hadn’t betrayed her confidence, and her gut told her he wouldn’t.
“We’re going to pull this off,” Dusty said, as if reading her thoughts. “By the time we’re done, Madison will learn what it feels like when the hunter becomes the hunted.”
Sharon wished she could believe him. But as the lights of the truck stop appeared on the horizon and the black SUV crept closer, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d just dragged the first good man she’d met in years into a fight he couldn’t win.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Dusty watched Sharondisappear through the secure door of the shelter, his jaw tight with concern. The receptionist—Marla, according to her name tag—gave him a sympathetic but firm look.
“She’ll be fine,” Marla remarked, shuffling papers at her desk. “This is one of the safest places in San Antonio for women in her situation.”
“I wish you’d let me go with her.”
“Sorry, Mr. Warner, but no men are allowed past the lobby area. Too many of the women in this shelter are from abusive relationships, and sometimes being around men, even good men, only makes things worse.”
Dusty understood her reasoning, though he still wished he’d gone with Sharon. When he’d been working in Dallas, he’d seen more than his share of domestic abuse situations. Helped where he could, reported suspected abuse to counselors and social services. He’d always felt his hands were tied. Seeing women with bruises, black eyes, and broken bones made him want to step over the line more than once, but he knew that wasn’t him. Instead, he used the system to help as best he could.
