Page 23 of Allie's Shelter

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Page 23 of Allie's Shelter

He returned to the kitchen to find her. More importantly, he intended to find a way to make her open up and talk to him. Now, not later.

She wasn’t in the kitchen, wasn’t in sight at all. An icy fist lodged in his gut. No one knew they were here, no one had followed them. Calling himself all kinds of stupid for not setting the door chimes on the security system, he walked through the house, listening after every step.

He didn’t dare call her name or she’d know how deep his worry went. He headed down the hallway toward the bedrooms. It was the soft whirring of a computer booting up that alerted him. He followed the sound to the master bedroom and peeked through the slightly open door.

Allie had fallen asleep propped against the headboard, pillows adjusted to support her head, the computer open on her lap. He tried to decide if he was amused or irritated, but gave up. She’d found the only real privacy the house offered beyond a bathroom or his office. The only bed too, but that didn’t bother him nearly as much as the urge to grab her computer and search it thoroughly.

He owed that much to the client and the hefty retainer, dead or not.

The voice in his head that never gave up trying to be conscientious told him to move the computer to a safer perch and leave her alone. She’d tell him the whole story when she was ready. They were safe now, they had time. And wasn’t it a good sign that she felt comfortable enough to sleep here?

Ross wasn’t sure he cared about signs of comfort. He tried not to care about how right she looked sleeping there on pillows he so rarely used. Had he pictured her here when he’d chosen the plans that would let warm afternoon sunshine stream through the big windows?

Knowing the answer and uncomfortable with it, he shook off the nostalgia. Allie had gotten herself into some serious trouble and she needed help. A circular argument that only proved he needed sleep as he was right back at the notion of searching her computer so he would know how to help.

He was stepping back, resolved to wait, when her eyelids fluttered open. Her computer had sounded some sort of alert, but he was struck by the beautiful softness of her features while she was at ease, before the weight of the world settled heavy in her eyes and tugged on the corners of her lush mouth once more. He fought the driving urge to give her a worthy long-term distraction—like him.

“Come on in, Ross.”

“I wondered where you went,” he said as he pushed the door open. He didn’t step over the threshold. “Need anything?”

“Do you have secure Wi-Fi access?”

“Yes.” He took one step inside and waited. “I can set it up for you.” She hesitated for a small eternity before she motioned him closer.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he suffered with the warm scent of her. Leave it to Allie to pack her favorite fragrances when she was running away from dangerous people. He typed in the code and handed the laptop back to her.

“All set. I wrote down an access code to the computer in my office too. In case you need a printer or whatever.”

Her pale brows arched. “Thanks.”

“I meant what I said about helping you figure this out.”

Everything in her expression changed, suddenly shutting him out. He didn’t fight it, didn’t push the way he wanted to. Deciding retreat was best for the moment, he gave her his most easygoing, innocent smile and walked out.

* * *

Allie watched him go, wondering what was going on behind those dark, assessing eyes of his. She used to be able to read him easily. Now she wasn’t sure of anything about him or the recent events that had shoved them together.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He believed her about the money, despite getting some notice to the contrary suggesting she was a criminal. And she was sure he’d believed her when she said she wasn’t a murderer. Being a person of interest in that regard terrified her. If she could prove she wasn’t around when Roberts died, this unrelenting pressure inside her might ease up.

She knew her body’s physical limits from her triathlon training and competitions. She reveled in that place where positive thinking and confidence raised her performance, helping her break through her previous best efforts to reach new heights.

Stress of that nature was a certain kind of joy. Pushing herself, amping up the physical demands resulted in an endorphin rush that couldn’t be matched. This cloying fear and uncertainty offered a stress far different and unwelcome. Though her body was honed for running in competition, she didn’t seem to have as much stamina for running away from her problems. She did however, prefer to stay alive and out of jail, so she’d keep on running, keep on pushing herself, for as long as it took to clear her name.

She took a minute to stare at her computer screen. Sheriff Cochran’s voice rumbled through her head. She couldn’t seem to stop hearing him tell her that authorities in Virginia wanted to question her about Bradley’s murder. Ross’s voice came next, reminding her with that dreadful certainty that someone had planted an eyewitness and likely enough evidence to justify dragging her into the investigation.

Her fingers hovered over the laptop keyboard. So far, she’d only cruised through public news sites anonymously, but she needed to be smart here. Her boss had laundered millions of dollars through an account she’d created. By default of her access, any objective observer could only come to the conclusion that she controlled the money, that she’d mismanaged the account for her own purposes. It didn’t take a genius to know her boss wanted his money and it suddenly didn’t feel bizarre to think he was having her electronic activity monitored.

Except Bradley Roberts was dead.

She set the computer aside gently and eased off the bed, as if any rough motion would cause alarms to sound, compromising her momentary safety.

“Be smart, Allie,” she coached herself. She stared out the window, watching the wind tug the leaves off their branches.

Her boss might be dead, but she knew the corruption went higher. Whoever was behind this hadn’t managed to hack or ghost her personal computer yet or they wouldn’t need to chase her down. They would have stolen her login and passwords and gone forward with the scheme.

Private browsing was a thin veil she couldn’t rely on indefinitely and she needed to know the status of her personal account as well as the corporate account. She needed to know if Bradley had set all this in motion and his hired thugs were just following through with the original orders. She didn’t want to consider that someone else was pulling the strings now and hiring killers and kidnappers to clean up the whole mess.


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