The Fugitive's Secret Child Page 5

  Only minutes earlier, getting killed by fugitives had been her biggest worry. Not whether or not she was sane, thinking the man behind her was Justin. Justin was dead. But if he’d lived, if this was him, she’d have to tell him about her Justin Berger, his son, Jake.

  No, you don’t.

  Yes, she did. Protecting Jake from strangers was one thing, but from his father another. Although the man in the back seat was virtually a stranger. He couldn’t be Justin.

  It’s improbable but still possible.

  As she cleared the remaining branches off the car, she used the small space from Rob Bristol to get it together. She refused to look back as she took off her cowboy hat, threw it across to the passenger seat, and slid into the driver’s seat. Trina waited as the sound of the Russians’ ATV engines faded, making certain they were gone before she started the car.

  The man remained silent as she drove up onto the highway. After a few miles on flat pavement, she checked him out in the rearview mirror. His head was tilted back as if he’d fallen asleep. Or unconscious. Panic gripped her chest.

  “Hey! You still with me?”

  Nothing.

  He could be messing with her. But then he lifted his head, and she saw the tortured expression on his face. Compassion pierced her defenses.

  “Are you all right? I’ve got pain meds in the first aid kit.”

  “A-okay, baby cakes.”

  Realization slammed through her, blowing away her cobwebs of disbelief and denial. Unless this was a ghost, and she’d imagined the entire time between seeing him stumble out of the building that was housing Vasin and now, this had to be Justin. He was the only one who’d ever called her “baby cakes.”

  Justin was still alive.

  She headed east, called her boss and refused to look her passenger in the eye. She gripped the wheel, waiting for Corey to pick up.

  “Trina, why the freak haven’t you checked in?” Corey Blumenthal’s voice rumbled in her earpiece. She couldn’t use the speakerphone, not with an unknown in the back seat, no matter that he was probably a fellow LEA agent or officer.

  And he wasn’t unknown, but a freaking practical ghost.

  “Handling things. I’m safe. I should be in Harrisburg in about two hours or so. I’ve got Rob Bristol with me.”

  “Thank God! We’ve got reports that the warehouse you went to had an event. Where are you?” Her boss’s voice remained professional, but she heard the concern in it.

  She gave him her coordinates so that he could confirm her GPS unit was working. “I’m within two and a half hours of base. Unless you tell me to go elsewhere.” The puppy chose that time to bark. Of course.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “A dog. He wouldn’t stop following me.”

  “You’re a US marshal, Lopez, not a dogcatcher.”

  “Yes, sir.” She and Corey were on first-name basis, but she liked to rankle him by reminding him he was two decades older.

  “So, you have Bristol. Well done. Just to be safe, describe him to me.”

  What the hell? He never questioned her like this.

  She looked in the rearview mirror as she drove, catching quick looks at Justin—God, it was Justin—but not enough to get them in an accident.

  “Shaved crew cut, blondish, graying scruff on his chin, dark eyes, well, eye—one of them is swollen shut—about six feet, maybe two hundred, two-twenty.” And all of it hard muscle, if he was anything like he’d been when they’d made love under the desert stars, making the baby she’d raised on her own.

  “Lopez. What about ID?” Corey’s impatience bristled more than usual because she got it—she was annoyed, too.

  “Not possible. I asked. No ID, no papers on him. Not saying who he’s with.” Her fingers betrayed her as she spoke, burning with the memory of patting him down—there’d been nothing under his clothing except hard, sinewy male body. Justin’s body.

  “Ask him.” Her boss’s voice shook her from her lust.

  “He claims he’s an agent of some type. I trusted my gut. He’s been beat to hell by the ROC members.”

  “Robert Bristol. TH.” Her fugitive croaked out his name again but this time added the “TH.” Trina locked gazes with him in the rearview mirror, fighting the urge to slam the car to a stop, get out and pull him out to get to the bottom of his identity.

  “He says his name is Robert Bristol, TH, whatever the hell that means.”

  Was that a sparkle of glee, amusement or demonic intention in his good eye?

  “That’s all the identification we need. You’ve got the right man, Trina. Bring him in.” Corey paused, the line crackling in her earbud. “Well done, Trina.”

  “Yes, sir.” She finished her conversation with Corey and turned her attention to her passenger.

  “That’s not your name and we both know it. Where the hell have you been?” Trina wasn’t playing his game any longer. The initial shock was wearing thin and she had to know whom she was transporting back to headquarters, at least, whoever he used to be. Before he called himself Robert Bristol.

  “Please keep your eyes on the road, Marshal Lopez.”

  “Shut the hell up.” Backed into an emotional corner, she relied on good old sailor-speak.

  “Trina, what the hell is going on out there? Are you okay?” Corey’s concerned voice filled her ear. She’d neglected to disconnect. Just great.

  “I’m okay, boss. We’re having a little ‘whose LEA is bigger’ contest, that’s all.”

  This time she made sure to disconnect.

  * * *

  “Damn it!” Trina slammed her palms on the steering wheel of the small economy car. A cheap rental, judging from the clean smell of the upholstery and lack of air-conditioning. At least she’d opened the windows and let the clean air stream in. “Want to explain why your name is Rob Bristol these days?”

  “Self-preservation.”

  He liked the way her gray eyes looked almost black each time she glanced at him in the rearview mirror. Her hair was escaping the ponytail holder, and long, wavy wisps floated around her as the air blew in through the front two windows she’d lowered halfway.

  He couldn’t help it; he laughed. And then groaned.

  “Are you in pain?” Her tough countenance fled. Did she care if he suffered? It could be a good sign if she did.

  He shook his head. Nope, couldn’t go there. Trina was married, and he had to gain closure with her for their time in the desert. Nothing more. Achieve point A, move to B.

  “Stop.” He choked out the word.

  “I can’t stop—we have to make it to Harrisburg.” Same tiny lines between her brows when she frowned, if a bit deeper and definite. The years had been tough on each of them, it appeared.

  “No, I mean, stop making me laugh. It hurts my ribs.”

  “It’s going to hurt a lot more if you don’t start talking. What were you doing in that warehouse? Did you lie to me about working for the government? Do you work for ROC?”

  “Hell no. I was trying to take Vasin out.” The words escaped and he realized he had to reel them back in, but couldn’t. He’d never let classified information spill before, no matter how much pain he was in.

  “Take Yuri Vasin, second to only Dima Ivanov, out? What’s your definition of ‘out,’ by the way?”

  “Actually, it turns out I had to take out Vasin first. And before you get upset, know that he’s under a huge metal shelf sucking in tear gas. He’s as good as caught. The local authorities will have no problem apprehending him. Ivanov remains unseen and at large, but I’d bet my life he’s near the warehouse, if not in it.” She had to know about the basements and concealed structures-within-structures that ROC was famous for. Nothing about that was classified.

  “Well, that’s reassuring.” Her sarcasm tore at him, and he reassessed his initial apprais
al of US Marshal Trina Lopez. Or rather, added to it. She’d come a long way from the serious but always chipper Navy pilot he’d known. She was still spot-on with her job, but her demeanor was more sober. Wiser. She hadn’t made a misstep when she’d taken him into pseudo custody—she’d hedged her bets, in fact. As a well-trained, intelligent US marshal would do. The few he’d worked with over the years had been all business, the epitome of professional. Trina proved no exception.

  No other US marshal had been the love of his life, however. And not one of them had thought he was dead for the past five years, come back to life as if in a dream.

  More like a nightmare. Yeah, he supposed he was Trina’s worst nightmare, in many ways.

  That made him laugh again. Ouch.

  Freakin’ ribs.

  * * *

  Trina’s deep shock at seeing Justin alive wasn’t going to dissipate anytime soon, but she had to take care of what was in front of her nose. She was concerned about his injuries, wondering if he was internally bleeding as they sped across the state.

  She sighed and focused on a few deep, calming breaths as she drove, certain they’d left the criminals behind them. She didn’t want to see anyone in pain, and especially not a man who wasn’t a bad guy. Was in fact, the guy she’d fallen for and gotten pregnant by. He was a different kind of guy now, though. He’d been in the vicinity of very, very bad men. And he knew who Vasin and Ivanov were. Not usual LEA targets. More like FBI, even CIA. The Marshals had been called in to nab Vasin only because they hadn’t received the intelligence that he was with other men and protected. Trina wasn’t fazed by running across an agent from another LEA—it happened all the time. But in this instance, and with “Rob” not revealing which agency he worked for, her hackles were at attention. It had nothing to do with the sexual attraction she was imagining between them. Seriously, in the middle of an op?

  A quick look at her rearview mirror revealed Rob with his head laid back again, maybe trying to escape the incredible discomfort he was in. She’d call in for a doctor as soon as they were an hour out from the Harrisburg station. Giving him first aid unless he was facing imminent death wasn’t an option, as they had to make time and put road between them and ROC. Rob had said he was fine, that he didn’t need to stop at Lehigh Valley medical center. She chose to believe him. Stopping to clean wounds and place bandages was a luxury when being chased by bad guys.

  She should have checked him over for any bleeding wounds. And internal bleeding—it was pretty clear he’d probably snapped a rib or two, either from his escape out of the warehouse or from Vasin and his posse whaling on him. But her mind, her heart, had been vibrating from the effort to assimilate what she witnessed.

  The resurrection of her son’s father. A man come back to life.

  Her phone buzzed and the ID indicated it was Corey on a secure line.

  “Hey, boss.”

  “Any more information from Rob Bristol, Trina?”

  “Nothing more than what I told you. He says he’s Robert Bristol, that he was working to find Ivanov and Vasin. He’s got a lot of bruises, maybe a cracked rib. But nothing serious, hopefully.”

  “He’s telling you the truth, Trina.” Corey never spoke with such a dramatic tone of conciliation unless he thought she was about to lose it from a particularly rough operation, or when he was insistent she take time off.

  “Okay, fine, so who does he work for?”

  “I’ll fill you in when this is over. All of it’s above my pay grade. Bottom line is that he’s not a suspect or fugitive. He’s one of us, but with a different group. You can trust him. And if you need to, follow his orders.”

  Trust the man who let her believe he’d died during a failed raid in the Mideast? Who’d obviously lived but never came to find her afterward? Who didn’t know their passion, their uncontrollable lust for each other, had made a baby who was her precious Jake?

  “Okaaaaay.” She couldn’t help drawing out her response. Just a little.

  “I’ve called because you’ve got new orders, Lopez.”

  “Can’t they wait until we’re in? We’re only sixty miles out.” She wanted to be home with her son, in her house. The sooner the better.

  “Nope. You’re not stopping in Harrisburg. As a matter of fact, you’re going to pull off in three miles and get a new rental, then head south on I-81. Use your company card and find a hotel when you need to, and hole up. You need to take three days to get back here. You need to practice maximum evasion—not just for his sake but for yours and Justin’s. These are the worst of the worst, Trina. ROC don’t leave anyone alive who’s pegged them.”

  “We have to do this all weekend?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where do we end up, then?” She tried to sound calm, professional.

  “Ultimately, you’ll bring Rob Bristol back to his home base.”

  The hair on her nape prickled, and she massaged her neck with one hand on the wheel.

  “And where is that?”

  “Silver Valley.”

  “As in where I just bought my new house?” What the hell was Rob Bristol of “TH” doing in Silver Valley?

  Corey was quiet for a moment. “Yes. I can’t say anymore on this line. Stop along the way. Stay in more populated areas, at regular hotels. Nothing fancy. You’re just another couple playing tourist. Charge everything to the company.”

  Trina groaned. The “company” was of course the US Marshals. This was official business. She blew out a deliberate, angry puff of air. This was not happening to her. Yet inexplicably, it was.

  “Roger, boss. Got it.”

  “Check in as usual.”

  “Will do.”

  “And Lopez?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “The dog food is on your tab.”

  Corey disconnected the call, and Trina would have screamed at the top of her lungs if she were alone.

  Alone. Her gaze flew to the mirror and collided with the blue laser that was Rob Bristol’s stare. Justin’s. The glance that had set her on fire at one time, made her wet before he’d stroked between her legs with his fingers. Made her entire body quiver in anticipation.

  She gulped. “Your left eye appears to be getting better—the swelling is going down.”

  “What did you have on your schedule this weekend?”

  Dang it. He’d heard the call. Or her side of it, at least.

  “Nothing that can’t be rearranged.” She wished her heart, her soul, felt as calm and easygoing as her reply. Trina had her family and Jake’s friends’ families to rely on. Since they’d moved, though, his friends were forty-five minutes away, north of her office in Harrisburg. They hadn’t set down roots in Silver Valley yet. But he’d be able to stay with her parents, or her brother would stay over at her place with him. She need only make the call.

  “There was a time when you would have done anything to spend an overnight with me, Trina.”

  Chapter 4

  Right now she needed to pee, gas up and find a hotel as Corey had told her. A place to hole up. She pulled into a familiar convenience store, her favorite pit stop, and up to a fuel pump. “Do you want something to drink or eat? Can you get out and use the bathroom?”

  “I’d rather wait until we hunker down at the hotel. I know a couple of places that no one would think to search for us around here.”

  She looked over her sunglasses at him. Emotion sideswiped her, knocking her confidence over as easily as a gull’s feather in the wind. “What’s going on here? You’re not really Rob Bristol.”

  His mouth was a grim line, albeit with a swollen lip. It barely moved as he opened it to speak. “Justin died out in the field, Trina. All that’s left is Rob. It’s been my name since I escaped, practically.”

  “Escaped?” It felt like it was her ribs that had taken the beating. Her heart had nowhere to escape to, and
there wasn’t enough room to fill her lungs. Hell, there wasn’t enough air on earth to keep her blood oxygenated right now.

  “Didn’t it ever occur to you I’d been captured by the enemy?” Bitterness laced his tone.

  “Every conceivable outcome occurred to me, Justin.”

  “Rob. I told you, Justin’s dead.”

  “Fine. Rob.” She barely kept herself from shouting at him. “We’ll talk about our history later. I’m going to fill up the tank before we exchange this car for another, use the facilities, and pick up some snacks. Last chance to ask for anything or you’re stuck with what I get you.”

  His stare was unholy. As if she were the one who’d done something wrong.

  “Water would be nice.”

  She slammed her door shut because she could and hooked up the nozzle to the gas tank. As soon as the gas was running she went into the store. Rob was still in the car. He was capable of watching to make sure it all went safely.

  With dogged determination to keep her wits about her, she ordered them each two sandwiches and iced lattes from the touch-screen menus. As she walked back to the refrigerator section for water, she called her brother.

  “Hey, Nolan, it’s me. I’m involved in something I hadn’t expected. Can you watch Jake this weekend?”

  “Of course I can. I saw Mom and Dad at the diner this morning and they were saying how they’d like to take him to the water park at Hershey.”

  “Sure they were. That’s way too hot for them.”

  Nolan laughed. “Relax. I’ll take him. He and I will have fun. Have you told him yet, that you’ll be away?”

  “No. Can you get him from day camp in an hour? I’ll talk to him once he’s at your place. Or you can stay at our place. I have plenty of boxes to still unpack if you’re bored.”

  “Sure thing. You be safe out there, Trina.”

  “Will do. Thanks.” Her arms full of blissfully cold bottled water, she went to the register and paid her bill. She picked up the bagged food as soon as the server called her number and went outside. As she looked across the lot to the car’s back seat, her strength left her.