Amy Fetzer - Alias

Mary Jo Archer had a right to be scared.

Darcy understood that kind of fear only too well.

It made her an expert at evasion and deception. Five years as a Hollywood special-effects makeup artist made her unrecognizable even now. Using disguises at every leg of a rescue protected the women’s lives, as well as hers.

Darcy coveted her privacy like a fanatic. With good reason. She was a kidnapper. Plain and simple. She’d taken her baby son from his father and hidden from the world. From her perspective, the end justified the means. Saving a life. In her case, it was two lives.

But in the eyes of the law, she was the criminal. It wouldn’t matter that, before she’d escaped her abusive husband, she’d gone to the police and filed reports. Maurice’s influence had a long reach. The cops had dismissed her accusations, just as Maurice’s family and their friends had. Maurice had money, power and a stellar reputation as an executive film producer behind him, and in Beverly Hills and Hollywood that put him above reproach. Above the law.

Darcy had had nothing, and Maurice had made sure she was trapped from all directions. Till she escaped with her friend Rainy Miller Carrington’s help.

Suddenly her throat tightened with unspent grief. Rainy was dead. Killed in a car crash only weeks ago. With Mary Jo’s call coming soon after the funeral, Darcy hadn’t even had a chance to mourn.

Rainy would be mad that I’m still hiding, Darcy thought morosely. Even the Cassandras, her school-mates from the Athena Academy for Women, didn’t know the full extent of her ugly past. Rainy had known. And she’d told Kayla some of what Darcy had gone through to escape. The others knew she was no longer with her husband, and to them she was still Darcy Allen Steele, hairdresser and owner of the Chop Shop Salon. She was ashamed to admit the full truth to them.

To the rest of the world, including Jack, she was Piper Daniels, an alias she’d been using for nearly three years.

Everything in my life is an alias.

A forgery, a mask to keep herself and her son, Charlie, safe and hidden. She did nothing that would alert her husband to her whereabouts and was certain he was still searching for her.

Maurice wasn’t the kind of man who gave up control. Ever. Power and control were the root of who he was. And you didn’t cross him without consequences.

She took a deep breath, searching for calm. She needed a clear mind for the next hours of the journey.

At least Mary Jo had a fresh chance.

“You’ll file a report with the police,” Darcy said, her eyes on the road, “and then disappear till Eli is behind bars.”

“He should be in prison,” Mary Jo muttered bitterly. “See how he likes it.”

Darcy glanced her way. The girl’s face was a mess.

Maurice had never struck her face—it would have been proof to the public that he abused her. No, he had more deadly ways of keeping her under control.

“Eli kept me in a prison for years,” Mary Jo said, oblivious to Darcy’s thoughts. “That house might as well have had bars.”

The comment hit Darcy square in the chest.

A prison without walls. She was still locked in hers.

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep.” She spoke quickly to bury the feelings struggling to surface. “It’s a couple hours till we make it to the safe house.”

Mary Jo snuggled down into the seat. Darcy drove, aware of every flash of light in her rearview mirror. Every car they passed. Tonight, Mary Jo had her freedom.

After three years, Darcy didn’t.

Because Maurice was out there. Waiting for her to slip up. Hunting her.

A pearl of fear slid down her throat.

She hated it. It tasted foul and pitiful.

And Darcy knew she couldn’t live like this anymore.

But even after three years, she hadn’t figured out a way to outsmart Maurice. Legally, he still had the power.

And she wasn’t giving up her son, not even for her freedom.

Nevada

J ust past the state line, Darcy pulled into the Sleep Easy Motel parking lot, wishing it was her own driveway. But she was still hours away from Comanche, Nevada, and at two in the morning, she was bone tired, her eyes gritty.

She turned off the engine and leaned back into the seat. Mission accomplished. Mary Jo was at the safe house in Utah, and she’d zigzagged her way toward the motel to make sure that no one followed her. She’d removed the mask and wig somewhere in between when she’d stopped to grab a bite to eat. Her skin itched from the glue and all she wanted was a hot shower and a soft bed.

Grabbing her bags from the back seat, she climbed out, locked up, then headed toward her room. She stopped short when she saw a figure braced against the overhang support post outside, smoking a cigarette.

Jack Turner.

No man wore a black cowboy hat that easily.

Just seeing him made something under her skin shiver. But Darcy didn’t want to be anywhere near Jack tonight. Hours in the car with her own unpleasant thoughts for company, she felt combustible. Rainy’s death, the grief she’d shelved to help Mary Jo and leaving Charlie again when she just wanted to cuddle up with him and be safe had left her riddled with a mountain of emotions just waiting to crush her. Succumbing to them anywhere near Jack would just make a bigger mess of her life. He’d want to know too much, and right now, she felt weak enough to slip up.

“Well at least you didn’t get arrested,” she said.

He stared at her hard for a second, then pitched the smoke onto the pavement. “Don’t do anything that stupid again,” he said coldly.

She didn’t need a reminder of the danger she’d put herself in. The bruise on her hip would do that. “I didn’t have a choice. And I can take care of myself.”

He sent her an arched look that said after the stunt she’d pulled tonight, he wasn’t so sure. “Why do you keep doing this, Piper?”

Piper. God, what she wouldn’t give to hear her own name. “Because no one else will help them.”

“That’s what the cops are for.”

She scoffed. They’d been down this route before. Ever since that night nearly two years ago when he’d busted through a door to apprehend his bounty and found her helping a woman escape, he’d appointed himself her protector. She almost laughed. If he knew the truth about her, he’d be outta here. Or hauling her in to the police.

Darcy’s only advantage was that Maurice had never filed kidnapping charges against her. She knew why—it would mean giving up control of his life if he was investigated.

“If that always worked, then they wouldn’t be calling me, would they?” Or you, bounty hunter.

Jack moved away from the post, stopping inches from her. From under the dark hat, his China-blue gaze bored into her. He gently pinched her chin and turned her face to the side, looking for marks. “Did he hurt you?”

She stepped back, yet was touched by his concern. He looked as if he’d just about burn rubber to go avenge her.

“No, he never got the chance,” Darcy said. “I had the advantage of surprise and he was tanked already.”

He folded his arms. The motion made him look bigger. “You should know by now that booze just makes them stronger, meaner—”

“But slow and off balance,” she cut in. “Besides, you know that most of the time when I rescue a woman, the man isn’t home.”

Jack snarled something she didn’t get, then said, “Were you thinking of Charlie when you confronted that ape?”

Her gaze narrowed. “Don’t lecture me, Jack. You know I was. Charlie’s all I have. And if you don’t like the way I do things, then why are you always shadowing me?”

She didn’t expect an answer. She’d asked once. He never explained and wasn’t open to prying. Neither was she, so she dropped it. Though she’d tried skirting around him, he always found a way to be near. It was simply less aggravating to include him in her plans, and she admitted she felt safer with Jack and his big gun close by.