Page 44 of Allie's Shelter

“Of course you did.” She spun on her heel to face him, anger radiating from every taut line of her body. “And every week after, I’m sure. Give it up, Ross, I’m not a gullible, lovesick teenager anymore.” Her lips pressed into a thin line, she looked up at the ceiling. “What’s done is done. I eventually got past the hurt and got over you.”

She was lying. She had to be. There wasn’t any other possible explanation than the one he’d clung to with righteous indignation for all these years.

Was there?

He shook it off. Couldn’t be. Her parents never liked his home address, but they’d come around once it was obvious he wasn’t going anywhere. Her dad had even guided him through the recruiting process when he wanted to join the Army. And not just to get him away from Allie. Ross realized the Army had been his only hope for a real career.

He remembered explaining all of the logic and reasoning to Allie. He’d basked in her encouragement and understanding; such a contrast from the disinterest and worse from his own family.

She’d known he would write to her. She was the only person he wanted to stay in touch with and she’d sealed her promise to write back with a kiss that carried him through those first couple of weeks.

The phrases she claimed to have practiced haunted him. Why would he need forgiveness? He was the injured party here. He was the one who came home on leave to find everyone he cared about gone. Allie had moved to college, his dad had been evicted, even Aunt Ruth had given him the cold shoulder when she’d served his eggs, bacon, and biscuits that morning.

He looked at the mess he’d made of Allie’s generous breakfast and thought through the whole argument once more. She had to be lying.

As he finished the cleanup and closed the dishwasher, it hit him. She’d lied all right, but not about writing the letters. Her voice had cracked when she’d delivered that line about being over him.

All this time, he’d felt abandoned, betrayed by his best friend, and she’d been feeling the same way. It was too bizarre to make any real sense. He didn’t know what happened to the letters, and at the moment he didn’t much care. She wasn’t over him and that felt like the best news he’d had since they’d parted so many years ago.

Chapter seven

When Allie heard the door chime and the security system’s ‘armed’ announcement as Ross left the house, she flopped back on the bed, swamped in mortification. Had she convinced him she was over him? She sure hadn’t convinced herself.

Feeling the sting of tears, she pressed her hands to her eyes. Ross and her volatile feelings for him wasn’t the primary issue here. Her heart wasn’t the issue. Happiness wasn’t even the issue.

She needed to focus on the fact that someone was gunning for her—literally—and threatening the people she held dear. While she never could have imagined being in this situation, she knew it was past time to grow a spine and be brave.

She rolled off the bed and took a few deep breaths. Time to be proactive in resolving her problems. With Ross out of the house for a bit, it was safe to go to his office and look at the mug shots Eva had sent.

Moving cautiously down the hall, she peered around the corner. Confirming the kitchen and great room were still empty, she darted into the office.

It too was empty and the computer was on, as advertised. She sank into the big leather chair and tried not to inhale the warm, masculine scent of Ross that surrounded her.

While the email program loaded, she gave herself a mental pep talk. Yes, he was handsome, strong, and ethical. In essence he embodied everything she wanted the love of her life to be. Except dependable on an emotional level. When this was over, she was determined they would part as friends. And she was equally determined to stop measuring every potential relationship against the wishes and fantasies of her youthful dreams.

She opened the first email, and clicked to open the attachment. She’d expected a few mug shots, but Eva had sent dozens of faces in sets of six.

Allie scrolled through the first three sets, but none of the faces looked familiar, neither before nor after she’d left her job and her life in Virginia. Leaning back, she rubbed her temples and decided it was time for another cup of coffee. Along with some food to replace the breakfast she’d skipped because of that ridiculous argument. She glanced around, wishing she knew how to access Ross’ security system so she could get an idea how much time she had before the next inevitable encounter.

Moving quickly, she made a peanut butter sandwich, filled a mug with coffee, and headed back to the comparative safety of the office.

After a few more minutes, she thought she might develop a perpetual squint from staring at so many bored, vacant, and angry faces. The eyes bothered her more than any other feature. Some were flat and dead while others oozed hate. None were familiar.

Wondering if her recall was faulty, she closed her eyes and thought back through the events of that night in Aunt Ruth’s house. The way she’d turned when the first bullet had torn through the treadmill. She’d seen his eyes: clear, dark and emotionless. Perfectly framed by that black ski mask. And later, when she’d seen the face under the mask, those features were burned into her memory.

She cupped her suddenly chilled hands around the coffee mug, preparing to give each face another look, keeping those eyes in mind. Clicking through from one group to the next, another face niggled at her, teasing her with a vague sense of familiarity.

She noted the number, and opened a draft email to Eva. But it was the second group of females that made Allie want to thump her head against the desk.

The fake deputy’s face was staring back at her with a decidedly smug expression. It was the ‘I dare you’ look in her eyes that triggered Allie’s memory.

Opening another internet tab, she entered the title of her company’s online newsletter into the search bar. The article she wanted was a few months back, but when it came up, she sighed with relief. The day rushed back through her mind, and suddenly she remembered both faces clearly.

It had been one of her first publicity events at an inner-city clinic and so successful it became a benchmark for the following outreach endeavors. The company had made a day of it, using a carnival theme and putting children at ease while they announced a new program that would provide free basic medicines and antibiotics to the clinic patients. Nicole, in her role as Allie’s photographer, had taken loads of shots.

Allie skimmed through the collage in the newsletter, finding both the man who was now dead and the woman who was in FBI custody.

Her fingers tingled as she completed her email to Eva, explaining the gang connection she didn’t realize she’d had. It also meant her boss—former boss—had a connection too.

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