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“We’re going out the back,” Aaron instructs, but he doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t seem to look at them either, but I know that he knows every move they make. He motions to the waitress, and when she joins us, he hands her cash, a lot of cash. “I need you to distract those men," he orders. "Pour coffee on one of them or whatever it takes. If we leave and they don’t know we left, I’ll come by tomorrow and double that money.”
I go cold inside. We went through hell to avoid being followed. If these men are here for us, it wasn’t enough. What will ever be enough?
Chapter twenty-five
Ashley
Idon’t ask Aaron if he suspects the three men in business suits are trouble. Why else would he pay to have them distracted?
“The minute she spills the coffee, shut your computer and stick it in my bag,” he orders. “Then grab your jacket, stand up, and walk to the back door. I have the bags.”
“I’d rather you have a free hand. I’ll take my bag.”
“I don’t want you slowed down. Do as I say, Ashley. That’s our agreement.”
His reply is not the dismissal of a problem I’d secretly hoped for and there’s no time for me to reply. The waitress spills the pot of coffee in front of the table. Actually, I think she throws it down, the clatter of glass a shock in its sudden occurrence. I shut my computer and shove it in Aaron’s bag, scooting out of the seat the moment it’s inside. The men are all distracted, and I turn down the hallway, pulling on my jacket over my purse, my hand going to the zipper then my weapon. By the time I’m at the back door, Aaron is with me. We step outside and cut right into a crowd.
“Were they CIA?” I ask when he seems marginally at ease, which is as at ease as he’s ever seemed any day that I’ve known him. But that’s the point. He’s not intense. “Are we in danger?”
“Yes, but not from them. An agent, or hired killer for that matter, wouldn’t have been distracted by a coffee pot. I damn sure wouldn’t.” He eyes me. “We tested them. They passed.”
Relief washes over me. We weren’t found but that relief is quickly dashed when I realize that Aaron thought we were. He believes skilled agents or bad guys are hunting us. He believes they could be skilled enough to find us despite all his efforts to ensure they can’t. It’s nerve-wracking.
“Now what?”
“Now, we run in a few circles, pick up supplies, and then end up at our rental.”
I inhale and nod, hating the way we’re forced to chase our tails, but I don’t complain. I want to live. I’ll do whatever it takes to draw my next breath and to ensure Aaron takes his. And so we start the tail chasing and finally end up at several stores where we buy a security system and other random items. We arrive at our rental to the tune of a setting sun. We don’t actually arrive at the rental, though. We arrive at a café across the street where we sit and eat a sandwich and soup while watching our new doorway.
After we finish eating, Aaron points at the menu. “Order dessert to go. I’ll be back.” His eyes meet mine. “Don’t move. We’re in a crowd,” he adds of the overflowing tables. “They won’t come at you in the middle of a crowd.”
I nod, and I don’t ask where he’s going. I know. He’s going to clear the rental and grab the key from the lock box. He walks toward the back and the bathroom, but I know he’s taking the exit. I watch the property and look for his entry, but I see nothing. That’s terrifying. I see nothing, and yet, I know he’s there. That means I wouldn’t see someone of his skillset lurking about. I need to train. I need to learn more. I need to be the warrior he became. Determination fills me as the waitress stops beside me.
I order two slices of chocolate cake and one carrot because we love both. I pay with my new card with my new married name. By the time I have the takeout bag, Aaron’s back. “Ready?”
“Ready,” I agree. “Are we—”
“All is clear.”
I breathe out with relief, praying that we’ve found at least a little peace, one small safe place, even if it’s ultimately a façade. Even a cabin in a snowstorm wasn’t safe. I know this. We exit the café, and when I expect us to walk to the rental, we don’t. We head to a grocery store a block down. A few minutes later, we’re pushing a cart, filling it with food. “I guess we’re staying a while?”
“Let’s hope not,” he says, “but being holed up presents less opportunity to be seen.”
“Have you thought any more about Walker Security?”
“Right now,” he replies, “I’m thinking about getting us settled and safe. Then we’ll talk about Walker.”
He reaches for a gallon of milk. “For the cake.”
I lift the frosted flakes. “And the cereal?”
“You know it, baby,” he says, winking at me, his lips hinting at a smile.
That wink and smile have my stomach flip-flopping. He’s so handsome, so charming, so him. I don’t care what he calls himself; he’s my man. He’s the one I love, and every second I’m with him reminds me of this fact. We continue down another aisle, and I remember waking up on Sundays and shopping together in the past. I remember how right we felt, how secure I felt with him, with us. The only time in my life I’ve ever felt secure was with this man. We still feel right, just not secure, but I’m also not alone. These past months without him were empty and alone. I’d rather be on the run with him than in some safe house hating life. Live or die, we do it together.
“Don’t move,” Aaron orders, and suddenly he’s behind me, messing with my hair. It’s then tucked under a hat and he turns me to look at him.
“Perfect,” he says. “And it hides your hair but not your beautiful face.” He strokes my cheek. “I fucking missed this. I missed being normal with you. I promised myself over and over I’d find a way to make it real. I will. I’m promising you now.”
