Page 42 of Stalked

“I made the face because I saw he was going to hit you—”

“Which was the plan all along, right? Except you had some sort of change of heart and decided to tip me off. If you hadn’t made that face, I have to admit, I’d be dead now.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “No. No, I didn’t know what he was going to do until he flicked out that stick thing—”

“Really? You expect me to believe he just happened to find us right after you just happened to make a secret call at lunch today? Is that why you had me stop here when we were so close to Colorado Springs?”

“No. Steve, I—”

He took a step back. “You know what? Save it. We’ll do official questioning when I get you into the Critical Response office.”

“The what?”

He didn’t answer. Instead he pulled a set of handcuffs out of his pocket. That’s what the officer had handed him. Rosalyn looked over at them. They were watching her and Steve. Evidently he had already told them why he would need the handcuffs.

Almost as if from a distance, she felt a cuff slip around one wrist, then the other.

“Rosalyn Mellinger, you’re under arrest.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

She was playing him. Had to have been this entire time. There was no other explanation for it.

Steve could feel the anger coursing through his body. Not just at Rosalyn, although he was plenty pissed at her, but at himself also.

She’d taken him as an easy mark once, six months ago, and obviously had found he was still just as dense even after being fooled by her before.

Even worse? He still wanted to believe her now. That the crushed look on her face was real, that he’d made a mistake in slipping her into handcuffs.

But damned if he’d let himself fall prey to her for a third time.

And the baby... He couldn’t even think about that right now.

She had to be playing him. Had to be conspiring with the Watcher. There were no tracking devices anywhere on either of them. He had meticulously searched her clothes, his, her notebook and wallet and found nothing.

He’d watched mile after mile in the rearview mirror to make sure they weren’t being followed. There was no way any one vehicle—hell, even two or three taking turns—could’ve followed without his knowing. Steve had been watching. No one had tailed them.

The only suspicious happening since they’d left Pensacola had been Rosalyn’s call to the Ammonses. To a couple she’d previously stated had no phone in their house.

How exactly did you call someone who didn’t have a phone?

You didn’t.

But you could be calling a partner you were working with. Tip him off about where you were going. She might not have been able to give her partner specifics, but she could get him close enough that he could start tailing without Steve’s awareness.

He remembered her head against the telephone cradle at lunch today. The same guilty expression she’d had while standing over at the car while he’d been talking to the local cops.

Like she felt bad for tipping her partner off, then felt bad again that Steve had been hurt.

He should be thankful for her guilty conscience. Without it, he would be dead.

Or maybe—if he was willing to give Rosalyn a slight benefit of the doubt—maybeshe hadn’t known exactly what her partner’s plan was. Maybe she hadn’t known the plan was to kill Steve outright.

Maybe she was a thief and a con but not a murderer.

The thought made him feel slightly better, which made him even angrier, which made his arm hurt like a bitch. Steve gritted his teeth. He’d have to take some aspirin when he got to Omega HQ, because he wasn’t going anywhere else but there.

Not giving Rosalyn any chance to escape. He could’ve sworn she was about to run while he was talking to the cops. Maybe she’d known he was onto her.

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