Rowan closed her eyes and smiled. “Good. I can’t tell you how happy I am that she got away.” She paused, looked pointedly at him. “Roger told you about the medical bag. The book. The book Bobby stole from my shelf.”
John nodded. “There’s no word on Bobby.”
“I’d hoped. Roger pulled out all the stops.” Her voice held a tremor.
He shook his head. “The cops are out full-force in Dallas; L.A. transportation hubs are looking for him. It’ll be hard for him to get back here undetected.”
“But not impossible,” she murmured.
“No, not impossible. He’s proven to be pretty smart, so unless he does something stupid, he’ll be here. For you, Rowan. We have to protect you.”
“You are. There are two unmarked sedans on the highway, and Quinn is holed up in my living room. We’re ready for him.”
“We need to do more.”
“What?”
“I spoke with Collins this morning.”
Her body stiffened. She was still raw over Roger lying to her. John didn’t blame her. He’d had a hard time being civil to Collins over the phone.
“And?”
“He wants you in a safe house.”
“No.” She crossed her arms as if her answer were final.
“You don’t have a choice.”
“Like hell I don’t!” She tossed her arms into the air and crossed over to the phone, picking it up and pointing it at him. “I will not run away and cower. Bobby’s going to come for me now. Good. We’re prepared. We’ll catch him, and that will be the end of that.”
She started punching numbers into the handset. John reached over and tried to pull the phone away, but she karate-chopped his arm.
“Dammit, Rowan,” he said, rubbing his wrist. “You know it’s for the best. They’re going to put a lookalike in the house, set a trap.”
“I want to be here. I need to be here!”
“You can’t. You’re too close to this.”
“I’m a trained agent, dammit.” She said into the receiver, “Roger, I’m not going to a safe house.” She listened, her face registering her anger. “You can’t do that!” A moment later, she yelled, “Damn you!” and slammed down the receiver.
She whirled on John, hit him in the chest. “You’re in on this!”
“I think it’s a good idea.”
“Like hell it is! I want to be here when they take him down. I can’t believe you’d rather run away.”
John steeled his jaw, his anger building. He grabbed her wrists and held them tight, pulling her close. His lips were inches from hers.
“I’m not running away, Rowan,” he said, keeping his voice low and calm. “I’m protecting you. Collins put you in protective custody for your own good.”
“Don’t tell me what’s for my own good,” she said, her voice vibrating, her eyes dark with pain and anger.
“Look at your behavior right now, Rowan. You’ve just proven you’re too close to the case. Don’t do this.”
“After everything that’s happened, I deserve to be here!” Her body shook, her eyes pleading with him.
John didn’t disagree with her. How could he? He understood vengeance. Justice. Doing something yourself because he was your enemy.
But Bobby MacIntosh had proven to be shrewd. He’d planned four of his murders perfectly. The escape of the last victim was partly his bad luck and partly his choice of Sadie Pierce.
John didn’t doubt that MacIntosh had a plan to get Rowan alone and kill her. After hurting her.
He couldn’t let that happen. John was confident in his abilities, but more important, he trusted his instincts. MacIntosh would blow up the damned house if he could. Anything to get Rowan. And John wasn’t going to lose her.
“Well, you don’t have a choice,” he told her quietly. “You have one hour to pack your things and then I’m taking you away.”
She stared at him with a savage look of betrayal. Why couldn’t she understand this was for the best? It wasn’t perfect, but it would keep her alive until they caught her brother.
Without another word, she brushed past him and left the room, slamming the door.
What had he expected? That she’d willingly go with him up the coast? Consider it a vacation? That they could take long walks on the beach and make love in front of the fire? They weren’t going to some damned lover’s nest, it was a safe house. And he wasn’t her lover, just an available partner in bed when they both needed someone.
It was best not to think of his time with Rowan as anything else.
He turned to leave, but the glow of the computer screen caught his eye. He crossed over and read what she’d last written.
My idyllic childhood was anything but. I thought, in my young girl’s mind, that the love of my mother could keep the monsters at bay. Monsters weren’t real, after all.
But we lived with monsters. Not only my brother, whom I had always feared, but a monster masked with the face of a loving father. He never raised his hand to us, his children. But my mother didn’t escape his wrath. And now I can’t help but ask why. Why did she allow herself to be repeatedly hurt? Did it take her death to end her pain?
And why did no one else see my father’s abuse?
It had been a lovely spring day, the white cherry blossoms exploding with life…
She was writing an autobiography, John thought, incredulous. He was sure she hadn’t considered this before. Because she didn’t discuss the past. Now, it seemed, she’d been set free.
He started to have doubts about the safe house. Maybe Collins was wrong and she could handle a confrontation with her brother. Then again, her reaction five minutes ago told him she was too close, too emotionally involved to think straight.
Torn, he looked at the closed door. No, he couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk her life.
If he lost Rowan, he didn’t think he would recover. He just hoped he wasn’t making a huge mistake.
Rowan remained silent on the lengthy drive up the coast, which took longer than it normally would have because John took several precautions to ensure they weren’t followed. The safe house was near Cambria, a small town north of Santa Barbara.
Rowan thought it ironic that only a few weeks ago she’d thought about spending some time on California’s north coast because it combined the ocean, the woods, and the privacy she craved. The central coast was much the same, and Cambria was an idyllic, quiet vacation community where they would be safe.
Yet she disliked everything about it.
She expected this overprotectiveness from Roger. After all, he’d lied to her from the beginning-in order to protect her. While she despised the lies and the betrayal, at least she understood his motivation. She’d been a different person at ten, barely more than a baby, really. What knight in shining armor wouldn’t want to protect a young damsel in distress? And back then, she’d thought of Roger as her rescuer, her white knight.
But she hadn’t expected this from John. Of all people, she thought John would understand. He wanted justice for Michael as much as-or even more than-she did. And for all Bobby’s other victims.
The sacrifice John had made hit her hard. He’d left to protect her. He’d given up his chance to avenge his brother’s murder because he wanted to keep her safe. She glanced over at him with renewed appreciation. And something deeper. A feeling that had been invading her mind and body since the first night they made love.
John was irrevocably a part of her soul. She couldn’t lose him. She’d finally begun to accept and deal with what had happened so many years ago. Losing John was unthinkable.
When it came right down to it, Rowan hated running. It reminded her of the Franklin murders and the lowest point in her life since Dani had been killed.
She didn’t have the urge to run anymore. Her demon had a face: Bobby. She wanted to fight him herself. She wanted to see the look on his face when he realized she wasn’t the young, weak, frightened little girl he’d confronted twenty-three years ago. Despite her youth she had beaten him then, and surely she could beat him now.