MOLLY WAITED UNTIL SHE HEARD Cash’s footfalls die off down the stairs before she let herself relax. What a day this had been!
She’d bought herself a little time. She should have been relieved. But Jasmine’s brother would be in town soon, if he wasn’t already. Cash was convinced that Kerrington would tell Bernard. How would she avoid that bullet?
Knowing that Cash would try to protect her made her feel all the more guilty. That and seeing how much he wanted her to be Jasmine, how much he’d obviously loved the woman.
She looked around the room and tried to tell herself that she was safe and that was all that mattered. No way could Vince and Angel find her. But was that all she had to worry about? Could Cash be right about Jasmine’s abductor being someone she knew, someone who wasn’t going to be happy to see her alive?
She couldn’t worry about that now. She’d just had two close calls. Running into Kerrington and an even closer call with Cash. She’d almost kissed him. Had wanted to kiss him. If he hadn’t pulled back—
He was already suspicious. Kissing him would have been stupid. Something had happened back at his office, she’d done something wrong. She still didn’t know what it was but she remembered the doubt she’d glimpsed in his face.
The only thing that had saved her was his desperation to believe she was Jasmine, she thought with a chill as she glanced around the room. He’d bought this house for Jasmine? And kept it for seven years untouched? Had he expected her to turn up one day just as Molly had done?
He hadn’t moved on with his life, that much was clear. But why, she wondered. Because he’d loved Jasmine too much to let go? Or for some other reason?
She remembered what Kerrington had said about a fight between the two of them. And her car turning up just a few miles from town. Was he insinuating that Cash had something to do with Jasmine’s disappearance?
She shook off the bad feeling that came with the thought. Cash had loved Jasmine. He wouldn’t have hurt her.
And yet he was hiding something from her. She’d seen it in his face when she’d asked about their relationship.
She took a breath and let it out slowly. Don’t borrow trouble. You’re safe. At least for a while. With luck, Vince and Angel have been arrested by now. She still hadn’t heard anything about Lanny Giliano. She would call tonight. Maybe somehow he’d gotten away.
This would be over soon and she would be gone. Like it or not, she would again be Molly Kilpatrick, daughter of the Great Maximilian Burke, magician extraordinaire and thief.
It would be a far cry from the daughter of Archibald Wolfe and the Wolfe furniture fortune. A far cry from being the woman Cash McCall had loved, she thought.
She looked around the master bedroom. If Jasmine really were alive, Cash would be sharing this room with her.
With a shudder, Molly hurried downstairs, feeling as if she’d just walked across the woman’s grave.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Outside Las Vegas, Nevada
AT FIRST ALL Vince saw was darkness as the trunk lid swung upward, then a blinding light. He recoiled, drawing back into the tight space, covering his head with an arm, gasping for what he feared would be his last breath.
When something touched his shoulder, he cried out.
“What’s wrong with you?” Angel demanded. “You get sunstroke or something in there?”
Vince peered out from under his arm. He’d expected to see a knife in Angel’s hand. But all Angel held was a flashlight. “You blinded me.”
Vince could see his brother frowning. “You need help out or what?”
Vince shook his head. He’d just spent fifteen years in prison with murderers and worse, but he’d never been as frightened as when that trunk lid had swung open. It made him sick that he could even think his half brother would kill him. What kind of man was he?
“My legs are asleep.”
“Here, take my hand,” Angel said. Awkwardly, Vince crawled out of the trunk with Angel’s help.
“So?” Angel said as Vince stood and tried to get feeling back into his limbs. Just as he’d suspected, Angel had driven out to an isolated part of the desert. He could see lights in the distance on the interstate and hear the distant hum of the traffic. His chest ached, heart still pounding too hard. He sucked in the hot desert night air and tried to calm himself.
“I’m okay,” he said as if trying to reassure himself.
“That’s all you have to say?” Angel sounded disappointed, angry. “I got us out of Vegas with dozens of cops chasing us. You think that was easy back there?”
Vince shook his head. “You saved us. You’re the best. Thanks.”
Angel nodded. Clearly he’d hoped for more but Vince wasn’t up to it right now.
“Yeah, well, don’t forget it. You need me.”
Vince put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I do need you,” he said, his voice breaking with emotion.
“You sure you’re all right?” Angel asked again, eyeing him.
“Fine. Great. I’m great.”
“Then let’s get the hell out of here,” Angel said, slamming the trunk.
Vince walked around to the passenger side and threw up in the sagebrush before climbing into the car.
“Where to?” his brother asked, sliding behind the wheel.
With still-trembling fingers, Vince took the laptop from the backseat where Angel had put it. He booted up the program and waited for the GPS tracking device to tell him exactly where they could find Molly. It was time.
Antelope Flats, Montana
MOLLY SAID SHE loved POT ROAST, Cash thought as he put the leftover roast and vegetables in the microwave.
Was she just being polite? He didn’t think so. She’d almost seemed impressed. He smiled at the memory. If she was Jasmine, she was definitely an improved version.
The Jasmine from seven years ago had been the pickiest eater he’d ever known. She ate like a bird, always worrying about her weight, but also very finicky about what she ate. She would have turned up her nose at pot roast. Her tastes ran more to expensive restaurant cuisine, takeout, anything that came in white boxes or fancy-shaped foil impressed her.
The doorbell rang. Cash swore. He wasn’t up to seeing Jasmine’s brother Bernard. Not now. And he didn’t want to put Jasmine-Molly-whoever she was through another scene.
He moved to the door and looked through the peephole, already deciding that if it was Bernard, he wouldn’t let him in.
It wasn’t. It was Shelby, his mother. And she knew he was home and, therefore, wouldn’t give up until he opened the door.
He swore under his breath and glanced up the stairs as she rang the bell again. Molly was still in her room. Now if she would just stay there until he could get rid of his mother. He opened the door before she could ring the bell again. “Shelby.”
“I know I should have called first,” she said as she stepped past him and into the foyer. “I wanted to see how you were.”
“I told you—”
“I know what you told me,” she said, stopping in the center of the hallway to turn back to look at him. “I’m worried about you.” She sniffed the air and smiled. “At least you’re eating. But I hate the idea of you eating alone.”