Still the One. Debra Cowan
“She did.”
“He’s not into sports at all? Doesn’t play basketball or drive race cars or something?”
“No.” Kit tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I told you she’s changed.”
Evidently not enough, Rafe thought.
Walking to the opposite wall, Kit halted in front of a vintage black-and-white photograph of turn-of-the-century Oklahoma City. She wrapped both slender arms around her waist. “Tony got a job, was really trying to get his life straightened out.”
Her tongue darted out to moisten her rose lips.
Rafe’s belly drew up at the sight of that tongue, and he glanced down, scrawling some notes.
“I’m not sure I understand it all myself,” she said.
“When Liz called, I told her to put Tony on so he could tell me what was happening. Evidently he was sent to prison for manipulating stock prices on the New York Stock Exchange, making some money for a friend in serious financial trouble. Tony told me that while he was in prison, a man contacted him, a man with ties to organized crime.”
“Did he give you a name?”
“Alexander.”
“First or last name?” Rafe’s gaze tracked Kit’s agitated movements across his plush burgundy carpet.
“He didn’t say.” She surreptitiously swiped at a tear, and Rafe’s heart squeezed. She hated crying, hated even more for people to see it. Pulling a piece of paper from the side pocket of her purse, she passed it to Rafe. “Liz left this for me at the hospital.”
Rafe took the note, read the curvy scrawl. The mob’s after us. I’ll call.
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Liz’s dramatics.
Kit went on, “This man wanted Tony to pull the same scam for him on the prison computer, but Tony said he refused. Alexander threatened to hurt Liz if Tony didn’t do what he wanted. Tony said that man—” She halted, her shoulders sagging.
Concern had Rafe’s fingers curling into the arms of his chair. During that intense year they’d dated, he’d seen Kit cry only once, and it hadn’t been the day they’d broken up. It had been the day she’d heard that her sister had eloped with the local hockey team’s goalie. That had been marriage number one. He wasn’t sure what number Tony, the computer guy, was.
Rafe knew he shouldn’t touch Kit, but he rose, walked around his desk and settled his hand on her shoulder anyway, trying to discount the way she leaned slightly into his touch, the way her body heat shot straight up his arm.
She kept her head averted. Her musky scent slid into his lungs, knotting him up with regret and awareness. His hand was mere inches from the creamy flesh of her throat, the warm cleft where her neck and shoulder met, where he used to—
Get a grip. “Are you sure I can’t get you something to drink?”
“No, thanks.” She dragged in a deep breath, then went on in a wobbly voice that mangled his insides. “Tony said Alexander was responsible for Liz’s accident, that he made it happen.”
“Where was it?”
“Just north of One Fiftieth Street on Western. There’s a hard curve there.”
He nodded. “On the edge of Edmond city limits. I’m familiar with it.”
Just two weeks ago, a man had made the local news for taking that curve too fast and flipping his car forty feet into the ravine below. Liz could’ve done the same thing.
“So,” Kit said, “Tony did what Alexander wanted while he was in prison.”
“Using the prison’s computer? How long did it take the warden to catch him?”
“Never.”
Rafe’s eyes widened.
She glanced over. “He’s that good, Rafe. A computer guru.”
He nodded, prompting her. “But when he got out, Tony refused to help Alexander?”
“Yes.”
“So you think Liz’s accident was deliberate. And now she’s disappeared with Tony. I can see why you’re concerned,” Rafe said gently. With some surprise, he recognized a flare of anger. Liz was always pulling stunts, putting Kit through all kinds of hell and expecting her to ride to the rescue. “Doesn’t Tony think Alexander will look for him?”
“I really don’t know what he thinks.” She stepped away from Rafe and pulled a tissue from her purse.
Rafe’s hand fell to his side, and he moved back to his chair. Jaw tight, he shrugged off the insidious thought that she’d once again rejected him.
“I begged Liz to meet me somewhere, but Tony said those men might be following me, too. I haven’t seen anyone, though.”
If someone from the mob was really tailing her and they knew what they were doing, Rafe knew she wouldn’t see them. “She could be with Tony on a lark, Kit. Look at her track record.”
“I know her track record!” Her gaze shot to his.
“Would I be here asking for your help if I thought this was a joyride?”
Ouch. “You have to admit she’s done this before.”
“This is different, Rafe. I can tell. I heard how frightened she was.”
“Of Tony?”
She frowned. “I don’t think so.”
“Did anyone at the hospital hear or see a struggle? Did Liz scream?”
“No, nothing.” Worry carved deep lines beside her mouth.
“She probably went with him voluntarily, Kit.”
“I don’t know. I guess.”
He hated the torture in her soft blue eyes. “So why would she do that?”
“She believes him, I guess.”
“About Alexander?”
“And Tony’s claim that he’s turning his life around. He’s called her every night since he got out, trying to mend fences. I thought she’d stand firm this time.”
Kit said this last half under her breath, causing Rafe to narrow his gaze. She’d never said anything less than supportive about Liz before.
“He knows he made a stupid mistake and he’s trying to fix it. He was doing well in his new job.”
“If Liz went willingly, and it sounds like she did, there’s really nothing you can do.”
“I’ve got to find her.”
“She’ll come home. She always does.”
She stared at him, her eyes huge in a face gone pale as chalk. “Tony said he could disappear, invent whole new identities for both of them. He can do it, Rafe. The FBI said it was a fluke they ever traced him to that computer scam in the first place. But running isn’t the answer. Tony should confront the problem, not spend his life looking over his shoulder. Or forcing Liz to do the same.”
Anger blunted her words. “I don’t know if I should believe Tony or not, but can I afford not to? I’ve got to find Liz and help her, in case Tony is telling the truth about the mob being after him. I can’t just turn my back on her.”
She never had been able to, and Rafe knew she probably never would. Due to the death of their mother when Kit was fourteen and Liz eleven, Kit had taken on the role of mother rather than sister.
“I went to the police,” she said. “They said there was nothing they could do. But I remembered that your uncle Wayne was with the FBI and he worked organized crime.”