Carla Neggers - Abandon

“I didn’t break her heart. We only went out a few times.”

“One of them was dinner here.”

“Almost. That’s the date I canceled.”

“There’s discipline for you. If it’d been me, I’d have had dinner first, then dumped her.”

“I’m not talking to you about Mackenzie anymore. It’s Harris I’m after.” Rook shoved open the car door and got his bag from in back. “Harris is a bitter, entitled old man who drinks too much, T.J., and I don’t know if he’s on the level or spinning bullshit. If he’s on to something -”

“Then he needs to start talking and stop with the bullshit. He’s a smart man. If he’s serious, he’ll know telling us what’s going on is his only option. Ten to one he got cold feet and bailed on us.”

“I hope so.”

Rook shut the door and headed inside, straight upstairs to the computer room. His nephew barely looked up from the flat screen. “I’ll be off in a sec.”

“You have to work tomorrow?”

“I gave my notice, and my boss said not to bother to come in.”

“You gave your notice? Why?”

“I don’t like to work weekends.”

Rook kept his irritation to himself. It was the second job of the summer Brian had quit – a retail job with irregular hours. His mother had wanted him to study abroad over the summer. His father had wanted him to get a job and at least pay for his car insurance. But Brian had flunked out of college instead.

“Put in any applications?”

“Nah.” Brian tapped on the keyboard. “I don’t think I’m going to work anymore this summer.”

“That must mean you’ve decided to go to college this fall, after all.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I’m still thinking about it.”

“You’ll need to get applications in.” When his nephew didn’t respond, Rook sighed. “Brian…”

The kid looked up at him. His features were so like his father’s, but he didn’t have Scott Rook’s self-discipline and hard edge. “If I take the year off to work, I can afford not to work for a few weeks now.”

The logic in that statement was typical Brian. “We can talk about it tomorrow,” Rook muttered.

“Yeah. Okay. How was New Hampshire?”

“You’d have hated it. No computers, no cell phone service – I didn’t even bring an iPod with me.”

The kid grinned awkwardly. “What’d you do, listen to the mosquitoes buzz in your ear?”

“Loons,” Rook said.

His nephew gave a mock shudder. “Even worse.”

Jesse loved to fly, especially alone. All his problems fell away. He felt free in the air, unencumbered by his obsessions. He was apart from the world. There was no past or future, only now. As he looked down at the sprawl of greater Baltimore and Washington, D.C., he welcomed the sense of superiority and peace that overcame him.

He’d gotten out of New Hampshire without so much as a second glance from the couple at the bed-and-breakfast, the other guests, the people at the airport.

The police had no idea where their perpetrator was, who he was. Nothing. Their sketch didn’t look anything like the upscale hiker he’d become after the organic farmer had dropped him off.

Jesse had spent Saturday and Sunday roaming the famous Presidential Range, its peaks named after U.S. presidents – Washington, Jefferson, Madison, Adams, Monroe. At night, he’d regaled his hosts with stories of his mishaps, his fascination and appreciation of the White Mountains. There was no way – none – that they’d think he was the fugitive slasher.

Today – Monday – he had slept late, focusing on the work that lay ahead. It was midday now. His time in the mountains had helped center him. He’d thought about Mackenzie Stewart a lot. And Cal. That corrupt bastard must be beside himself at this point, wondering where Jesse was, debating whether he’d call from Mexico in surrender, turn up in Washington again or just disappear.

Disappear.

Just keep flying. Refuel, continue on to the Caribbean.

Start over.

But he didn’t want to start over. He had a life in western Mexico – a home in Cabo San Lucas, on the tip of the Baja Peninsula, with stunning views of the Sea of Cortes. It was everything he wanted. There, he was a successful American business consultant, with no ties to New Hampshire or Washington, D.C.

Cal and Harris had found out about Cabo.

Jesse knew he couldn’t go back without dealing with their treachery. He’d had to stretch his finances to buy his Mexican dream house. He needed the million he was due, but he could find a way to replenish his accounts if he refused to cave in to Cal ’s demands. He had been putting together deals since his parents ran him out of the house.

He’d learned the hard way to rely on no one, trust no one, but himself.

If he kept on going now – if he didn’t dig back into the lives below him – he would have to give up Cabo. With no control over his own identity, Jesse couldn’t trust Cal Benton to hold up his end of the deal – to send the money and keep quiet.

Never.

And with that idiot Harris sneaking off to the FBI, Jesse wasn’t willing to risk having Cal ’s “insurance policy” end up in the feds’ hands.

He had two choices. Disappear and rebuild his life from scratch. Establish a new identity. Find a spot that he loved as much as Cabo. Give in to blackmail and thievery.

Or…not.

He was the one who turned other people’s lives into nightmares. People paid him to go away. Cal and Harris had turned the tables on him, threatening to become his nightmare. Jesse drove a hard bargain, but if they had cooperated and kept up their end, he’d be back in Cabo by now, investing his profits and enjoying his life.

Leaving behind the money those two weasels had stolen from him was possible but not desirable. It would be annoying to have to replace it. Very annoying. But he could. There were always people with secrets who would pay not to have them exposed to the world.

Jesse had secrets of his own. Cal and Harris hadn’t unearthed all of them.

It was almost as if they’d ripped out his soul and were holding it hostage. How could he just leave now, without putting things right? He wasn’t going to return to Cabo and look over his shoulder for the foreseeable future. He had no intention of giving up his life there out of fear of what they had squirreled away on him.

On the other hand, if they hadn’t betrayed him, he never would have seen Mackenzie Stewart. He never would have attacked her.

That’s changed everything, hasn’t it?

A silver lining in his dark cloud. How could he just fly away without seeing his redheaded girl marshal again?

A sudden bump from a shift in air pressure brought him back to the present. Flying required concentration. It anchored him. He couldn’t let his thoughts drift for very long or he’d crash.

A simple enough equation.

He landed at a small, private airstrip northwest of Baltimore. Another rented BMW awaited him. As he disembarked from his plane, Jesse visualized Deputy Mackenzie. She was self-reliant, too. Her ability to fight, her gritty determination and her work as a federal agent were incongruous with her delicate appearance and soft, heart-melting eyes.

She didn’t belong in the violent world she’d chosen. Jesse wasn’t at all sure that he approved.

He caught his reflection in the side mirror of the BMW. He didn’t appear hunted or out of control. It was a steamy, hazy Monday afternoon in the Washington area, and he looked good in his expensive, casual clothes. Nothing of the deranged mountain man remained.

Within the hour, he unlocked the door to the expensive condominium he’d leased in the same complex where Cal Benton had bought his post-divorce home. Cal ’s condo was one floor below. But of course, he had no idea who his upstairs neighbor was.