Playmaker - Jami Davenport Page 0,1
terms with what this revelation meant, even as I knew exactly what it meant.
“The judge declared a mistrial because of a technicality, and he was set free a week ago.”
“And you’re just telling me this now?”
An odd silence followed, and I didn’t know what to make of it.
“Sally? Joe? How are they?” I asked.
“They’re both missing.”
“No.” That one word ended on a strangled scream of agony. They were either hiding like me…or worse. Deep down, I knew they were gone for good. Heads turned toward me, observing me with interest. I didn’t have the luxury of drawing attention to myself. Grabbing my purse and dropping a ten on the table, I slid out of the booth and hurried from the bar, still holding the phone to my ear. I stopped in the lobby, slipping into a private alcove.
“You have to run again. They had our contact information. If he made them talk—”
He didn’t have to spell it out for me. I’d been running for a year. I knew what I had to do, only this time I didn’t have the money to make the arrangements, pay for false IDs, change my appearance, disappear again… Those things cost money, and I barely made ends meet with my minimum-wage job. The one I’d need to abandon before collecting my last measly paycheck.
“Lanie? Are you there?”
“Yes.” I forced myself to face reality. “Robert? Are you going to be okay?”
“Don’t worry about me. Save yourself.”
“Do you need anything? How will I reach you?”
Robert didn’t answer. Instead I heard a loud noise, like the crashing of a door being kicked in and a bang. The line went dead.
I stared at the phone in my hands, willing Robert to call me back, but he didn’t. He was gone. He couldn’t help me anymore. I had to help myself and heed his warning.
I ran across the mostly deserted street to the hotel room I’d booked a week ago, threw everything into suitcases, and hauled them out of the building to my Toyota, a far cry from the Bimmer I once drove.
After stowing the bags in the trunk, I stomped on the burner phone, destroying it under the heel of my boot, and tossed it in the nearby dumpster.
With a last glance around to make sure no one was lurking in the shadows, I got in my car and punched the door lock button.
As I left the parking lot, I saw Kaden’s car pull into an empty parking spot across the street. He didn’t see me, or he’d have followed. I slowed my car, battling between my head and my heart. I had to leave, and leave now. I could not say goodbye to him. It was better that I disappeared and he forgot about me.
I choked back a sob as I tore down the side street. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I glimpsed his tall, muscular silhouette as he exited his vehicle and walked toward the bar entrance. He’d be calling my dead phone in a few minutes, and he wouldn’t get an answer. He’d never get an answer, and I’d never hear his voice again.
My momentary escape into semi-normalcy had ended tonight. I’d been jarred back to my current reality. I had no one to comfort me, to hold me, to tell me it would all be okay, because it wouldn’t. It would never be okay. This hell I was living would never go away.
Tears streamed down my cheeks, clouding my vision. I viciously swiped at my face, angry with the world and the crappy hand I’d been dealt. I cried for myself, but I also cried for Kaden and the life we’d never gotten a chance to build. I cried for my mother, who loved me with all the fierceness and grace of a woman accustomed to fighting for justice. I cried for my father, who’d never see his Daddy’s girl again. And I cried for Robert, who’d done all he could to keep us safe, but hadn’t been able to do enough.
Stopping at a red light, I blinked through blurred eyes. I adjusted my rearview mirror to watch Kaden. He was wearing a white linen shirt and jeans, shaggy hair falling across his face and past his collar. He opened the door to the hotel and disappeared inside.
When I’d first met him, his appearance had screamed bad boy; he’d been the antithesis of the preppy men I’d dated in college and DC. I’d have never guessed he was a professional hockey player. Of all