Hidden Identity (Harlequin Intrigue) Page 11

  The parking spot in front of their room was empty.

  Within minutes, he’d put on his shoes and jogged over to the tiny motel office. It was still too early for a long check-out line, though one couple, who were apparently settling their bill, took up most of the available interior floor space. As he waited outside for them to finish, his mind raced with questions—how was he ever going to find Chelsea? Without the van, he was stranded here and even if he had wheels, what direction would she have gone?

  How had he managed to handle this so poorly? Dumb question—he knew how. He’d put her off and put her off, trusting that some inner well of latent feelings for him would keep her by his side until he could face telling her the truth.

  She now knew she was pregnant and no doubt believed the father of her baby and the love of her life was dead. She knew that she’d been traveling to drop flowers in an act of farewell. How would she interpret Adam’s presence in the scenario?

  Bottom line, she was alone out there somewhere. Holton knew about her, knew she made the perfect bait.

  The couple came out of the office and Adam went inside. A young man who hadn’t been at the counter the day before greeted him. “Checking out?” he asked. He looked to be in his late teens, with a gold stud in his left nostril and a half-shaved head.

  “Probably,” Adam said. “Have you been in the office long?”

  “A couple of hours,” he said. “I’m covering for my mom. What room are you in?”

  “One-oh-one. Listen, did you happen to see the van parked in front of the room take off a while ago?”

  “Nope.”

  “Do you remember if it was there when you got here this morning?”

  “Nope.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “My girl and I...had a fight,” Adam said after a pause.

  “She took off?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Bummer.”

  “Yeah. But the thing is the van is old and unreliable and I’m worried about her. Is there a place to rent a car around here?”

  “Man, you’d have to go back to Vegas for that.”

  Adam shook his head. This was getting worse by the moment.

  “Or I could sell you my bike,” the kid said.

  “Your bike? What bike?”

  “That Honda out there,” he said, gesturing to the right of the office. Adam followed his lead and saw a beat-up old red motorcycle chained to the Coke machine.

  “Does it run?”

  “Like a bat out of hell,” the kid said. “It’s loud and I won’t kid you, it’s got...issues, but it’s a real ass-burner. It’ll take you where you want to go.”

  “And you’re willing to sell it?”

  “Mom kind of gave me an ultimatum,” he said. “You know how it is.”

  “How much?” Adam asked.

  “Eight hundred.”

  “Assuming it runs, I’ll give you five and you throw in a helmet,” Adam countered.

  “Six,” the kid said, then reached behind him and produced a black helmet that he set in front of Adam.

  Adam considered his options, then picked up the helmet. “Get my bill ready, I’ll be right back.”

  * * *

  ADAM STRAPPED ALL his gear on the back and took off. The kid hadn’t been bluffing—the bike could move. As he neared the outskirts of the tiny hamlet, he found a set of highway mileage signs pointing in three directions. Right to Los Angeles, straight ahead to Phoenix and left to Santa Fe.

  Phoenix was near his home, but why would Chelsea choose to go to Arizona? Santa Fe was in the direction they would have taken had they been together, traveling toward Florida, but again, would Chelsea charge off into the unknown under the circumstances? He doubted it. With her memory compromised, there were already too many unknowns in her life. That left Los Angeles, which, of course, also meant a highway that would eventually lead to the Bay Area and her parents and family.

  He turned right.

  The bike was as loud as advertised, too. Between the sun beating down, the vibration of the cycle and the unrelenting screech of the engine, all his senses were on overload. The wound in his side protested every bump. He kept his eyes peeled for an old green van either traveling on the road, broken down beside it or pulled into a car rest or parking lot. The miles droned on, the trip made longer by his determination to stop at every establishment he passed to ask the proprietors if they’d sold oil to anyone with a green van or seen anyone in trouble. He was flying blind and he knew it.

  It would have helped to have some idea when she took off. The earliest it could have been was after they made love. That meant she could have up to a four-hour lead. Four hours at even fifty miles an hour gave her two hundred miles. She could be approaching Los Angeles by now if the car had held up. How in the world would he ever find her there? He’d have to head to the small town of Bodega Bay and her parents and hope to intercept her but that could be days from now. Judging by what had happened at Chelsea’s brother’s place, Holton must have placed someone in Bodega Bay to watch her family and listen to her talkative sister. Was that someone still there?

  The debacle at Bill’s place also brought out the undeniable fact that the three men sent there to fake an accidental bombing had failed in their attempt and subsequently disappeared off the face of the earth. Whoever had sent them had to have figured this out by now.

  And what about Ron Ballard? If a US marshal was involved in this, how much did he know and what kind of advantages did he have when it came to ferreting out information? Adam had bought two vehicles now using his real ID. Did someone have a flag out for that contingency? Adam didn’t know, but he wouldn’t be surprised to find that Ballard had a way of keeping abreast of Adam’s location.

  No matter. There was nothing to be done but continue trying. This was his lover and his baby—his family, his life and all of it was in danger because of him. There was no quitting.

  * * *

  AFTER FIFTY MILES, Adam admitted to himself that he needed a break of more than a couple of minutes. Coffee, maybe something to eat, a respite from constant vibrations and the pain to the knife gash that flared as he leaned forward to grasp the handlebars. He pulled up in front of a small gas station advertising cold drinks and snacks.

  Inside, he found an older man behind the counter. He ordered coffee and snatched a prepackaged pastry off the shelf then downed one of his antibiotics and a couple of aspirin. A few other travelers meandered around. Probably, like Adam, they loitered as much for the air conditioning as they did the merchandise.

  Adam spied a produce section in the cooler and chose an apple to take along for a future snack. As he approached the counter to pay for everything, a tinkling bell announced another man coming into the store through a small back door. He nodded at Adam as he walked behind the counter. “I finally got it out of her, Sam,” he said to the guy ringing up Adam’s purchases.

  “Yeah? What’s her problem, then?”

  “She’s broke. We’re going to have to help her out.”

  Sam shook his head. “We can’t just give her money,” he said.

  “The kid doesn’t have a penny. Don’t be so damn cheap.”

  “I’m frugal, not cheap,” Sam said with a sigh as he handed Adam his change. He shook his gray head. “On the other hand, I guess we can’t have her parked out back forever. What does she need exactly?”

  “A couple of quarts of oil, that’s all.”

  Adam looked up quickly.

  “That’s not too bad,” said Sam. “Okay, just give it to her and get her out of here.”

  “Someone needs oil for their vehicle?” Adam said.

  The second man nodded. “Some little gal. Needs a couple of quarts.”

  “Where is she?”

  Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to know?”

 
Adam smiled. “I had some bad luck lately. Someone helped me get back on my feet on the condition I pay it forward. This sounds like an opportunity to do just that. Plus I’m a mechanic. If there’s something else wrong with her car, maybe I can help.”

  Sam nodded, obviously delighted to get off the hook. “She’s parked out back under the only tree around. Been sitting out there all morning.”

  “She was too shy to ask for a handout,” the second guy added. “I had to worm what was wrong out of her. It doesn’t seem she knows anything about cars and that old van she’s driving is on its last legs.”

  “Point the way,” Adam said, “but first sell me a half-dozen bottles of motor oil. Might as well get her a few spares. Oh, and add in one of those breakfast burritos you have back there, a cup of coffee and a bottle of orange juice.”

  “That’s mighty decent of you,” the second man said as he filled a box with the right number of oil bottles from a display. Sam gathered the food and rang everything up, a big smile on his wrinkled face as he presented the total to Adam.

  * * *

  CHELSEA, SITTING INSIDE the sliding side door of the wretched van and fanning herself with a folded road map of Montana, heard approaching footsteps and held her breath. It was no doubt Thomas, the nice older guy who worked at the store. He’d been out to talk to her three different times until she’d finally admitted she didn’t have the money to pour more oil into this blasted engine.

  If she hadn’t bought that breakfast yesterday, she’d have had enough to pour oil into this thing at least until California. But she knew that would have only been a stopgap measure. The Bay Area was a long way from Los Angeles. Gas, oil, food—all of it took money. She’d set off ill-prepared, fleeing on emotional energy alone, not factoring in logic.

  Hopefully, Thomas had taken pity on her and was bringing the oil, as he’d hinted he might. It was either accept a handout or sit out here until she keeled over from heat exhaustion or, worse, Adam found her. Not good, not when she had a baby to consider.

  The footsteps grew closer and she stood up, a smile in place for Thomas, a smile that slid from her lips when she saw Adam instead. She sat back down on the floor of the van and covered her eyes with her hands.

  He sat down beside her. A moment later, she smelled the aroma of hot coffee. “You found me,” she whispered through her fingers.

  “Dumb luck,” he said. “Here, I thought you might need this.”

  She dropped her hands. Ignoring the proffered coffee, she met his gaze. “I had to leave,” she said.

  “I know. You saw the card, didn’t you? The one you wrote.”

  “Yes. I know about my baby, I know about Steven. Adam, who was he? Did you—did you kill him?”

  He set aside the coffee and dug his wallet out of his pocket as he answered. “In a way, but not how you think,” he said. He opened the wallet, took out a photograph and handed it to her.

  She faced both of their images, standing side by side, smiling, Adam’s arm around her shoulder. They both looked relaxed and happy. It was dated two months earlier. And there was her handwriting again. It identified Adam as Steven. “I don’t understand—”

  “You will in a while,” he said. “I wish you’d woken me up and asked me about this,” he added.

  “I was scared and angry and didn’t trust my feelings. After what we shared last night—”

  “Wasn’t that a pretty good reason to give me a chance to explain?” he interrupted.

  “You’ve had days to explain,” she said softly as she gave in to the aroma of fresh, hot coffee and picked up the paper cup.

  “True. Okay, here we go. My name really is Adam Parish. I really did turn state’s evidence against a snake of a man accused of human trafficking. I got him convicted. Because of his threats and connections, the US Marshals offered me a new identity in a new state and I took it. I moved to San Francisco, where I got a job working construction. I met you just as I said I did. I didn’t tell you about my past because it wasn’t allowed and because I knew it might put you in danger if you knew the truth. I fell in love with you and you with me. All that is true.”

  “And you’re my baby’s father?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “How did you ‘die?’”

  “One of the snake’s men found out where I was. I’m not sure how. He came after me, right on the night I asked you to be my wife. I managed to subdue him.”

  “You mean you killed him,” she said.

  “Yes. I had worked out my own escape route if this event should ever come to pass. I’d purchased a plane and stored it out of town, kept my own identity... Anyway, there was this marshal who more or less ‘handled’ me and I didn’t trust him. I knew if my cover was blown I’d have to disappear for good, so I staged my death by putting the plane on autopilot and parachuting to safety. The plane went down into a glacier lake. I knew they couldn’t dredge it. The only body aboard the plane was that of the would-be killer.”

  “And you didn’t tell me.”

  “I didn’t know you were pregnant, Chelsea.”

  “But you knew I would mourn you, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you left me behind, anyway, ignorant and grieving. I can’t imagine how devastated I was.” He said nothing. “So the police questioned me. I gathered that much from the note.”

  “Yes, they apparently did.”

  “Who knows what I told them?”

  “You didn’t really know anything except what I told you,” he said.

  “The story of our relationship. You in control of all of the information, calling the shots. It seems the only independent thing I did was my ill-fated grand gesture to leave you at the motel.”

  “Chelsea—”

  “One of the bad guys somehow got on that helicopter with me,” she continued. “And he died when the chopper crashed and you were there on the scene because you weren’t dead, you were hiding.”

  “Yes,” he said, his body tense.

  “So why didn’t you explain all of this when you found me on the chopper?”

  “I planned to, but then I discovered your memory was gone. I decided to wait until it...came back.”

  “You could have shown me that picture.”

  “By then I’d given you my real name instead of the Steven that’s written on the photo.”

  “So in other words, you would have had to tell me you left me.”

  He nodded.

  She stared into his eyes. “I can tell from that note that you broke my heart,” she said, “and I have to assume since you didn’t know I was coming to drop those flowers that you didn’t even try to contact me. You just...left.”

  He winced but met her gaze. “That’s pretty much it,” he said. “I wasn’t sure the hit man had come alone. I couldn’t chance anyone following me to you, which they did, anyway. These people are dangerous. I loved you—love you—too much—”

  She held up her hand to silence him. “Your decision caused an innocent pilot—at least he might have been innocent—to die, and you’ve lied or omitted things since the moment you laid eyes on me again. And now we’re running for our lives and more people have been hurt or killed. So tell me this, Adam. When does it stop?”

  “When we get to Florida.”

  “No. That won’t stop it. They’ll still look for you. And why? Revenge? In the face of all the mayhem and death, doesn’t that reason seem kind of implausible? What else aren’t you telling me?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “That’s the truth. I’ve thought the same thing about the degree of vengeance but I have no idea why it’s so intense.”

  “But you’ve kept with one plan. Escape. Run.”

  He looked stricken and any pleasure she might have found in challenging him to assuage her own hurt fled. She yearned to cup his face and kiss his lips, ached
to hold him. She could tell he loved her, or at least thought he did, and she knew she had deep feelings for him, but those feelings were confused. The ultimate conclusion was that the reality he had created and was continuing to create had no future, especially in light of the fact there was an innocent new life to consider.

  “From the beginning, my plan was to get out of the country and let all this animosity wear down. I’ve been a loner since my dad died. It’s my default nature to take care of unpleasant things on my own and not involve anyone else.”

  “But you asked me to marry you. And whether you knew it or not, you helped create another life.”

  “I know. And since you came back into the picture, my focus has been to make sure you’re safe. I haven’t been very successful at that.”

  “Maybe it’s time for a new plan,” she said.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, like being part of a team that gets to the bottom of what’s really going on, by letting me help you. By thinking of me as an adult to be leaned on and not a child to be protected. I would like my baby to have a father.”

  “You’re willing to stick with me?”

  “I don’t know, Adam. Long-term, I can’t promise anything. I don’t know for sure how deep my resentment toward you runs and I might not know that until my memory returns. If Doc Fisher was right about my amnesia being caused by fear of pain, it’s pretty obvious to me that you’re the cause.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “However, I will stay with you as long as it takes for you to get your life back and assure a future, to make sure our baby won’t fall victim to this same danger. That I’ll stick around for.”

  “That’s a beginning,” he said.

  She nodded.

  They sat in silence for several minutes until he finally got to his feet. “I’ll get the van running again and we’ll take off.”

  “If you change your mind and run again, you’re doing it alone,” she warned him.