She gave a wordless cry, ran into his arms and pressed her face against his chest. His arms went around her, drawing her to him, holding her close. Without wanting to, tears chocked her and she sobbed.
She raised her swimming eyes towards his and found his lips, consuming it in a ferocious kiss of gratitude and longing. When it was over, they lay in each other's arms.
"How did you get past the guards stationed outside?"
"Wasn't easy. Had to persuade them."
"Persuade?"
"Hun-hun. Some were quite easy, others, not so much. There was this particular one that was especially difficult. He's missing his hat, shirt, and gun belt."
Pamela placed her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing loud. "What if he realizes you pulled a fast one on him?"
"Did I forget to mention he's sound asleep in the stairwell?"
"My God!"
"I couldn't exactly tell you to open the door and receive me with open arms."
"Tell me you're joking." She moaned.
"I'm joking," He said admits laughter. "Remember I snuck into this house weeks ago to stop you from getting married. I know how to navigate without being seen."
She nodded with relief. "Were you the one that called?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you say?"
"Your phone could have been tapped. I couldn't risk it."
She nodded and leaned in for another kiss. "Oh baby, I missed you so much. I thought I would never see you again." She whispered almost inaudibly, glancing up at him from under her brows, weak with relief, almost crying from excitement.
"Shhhh, don't think about that." He pressed his face into the nape of her neck.
"No, Devlin, I need to." Her throat tightened. "I also need to thank you for everything. For watching out for me, and loving me, and being there for me, every single time –"
"Pamela, hey," He planted a lingering kiss on her lips and drew back then looked deeply into her eyes. "For better or worse, remember? Through thick and thin. I am only sticking to that."
Tears filled her eyes. "How can I thank you enough?"
"By forgiving me for hitting you."
"No babe, forgive me for being hard headed and stubborn. Forgive me for everything. I caused this. I acted foolishly –"
"No, Pamela. You have a good heart. You trust a lot and want the best for everyone."
"No, I'm gullible."
"You're an angel."
She gave a soft laugh. "You are my angel. You found me right on time." She placed her hand beneath her head. "How did you find me by the way?"
"I found your sticky note."
She nodded. "It had been stuck to the fridge and I had put it in my pockets. Before I was tied, I had been," She hesitated a moment then raised wary eyes at Devlin. "Hit."
He swore out loud.
"Thank God for that because if not, I wouldn't have been able to draw blood." She hurriedly said. "I had pretended to be wiping my bleeding mouth, then replace my hand into my pocket to smear the paper. Thank God for that pocket of opportunity I had had to have placed it on you. I had been afraid I wouldn't have had one."
"Thank God."
"By the way, who was that woman?"
He pretended to be studying her hair. "What woman?"
"The one that led you to where I was? Her voice sounded oddly familiar."
Devlin didn't reply. It wasn't a matter of debate. He wasn't going to tell her. He didn't want her betrayed or sad. "Just someone. I have something I want to tell you."
She gave him a look that his deliberate switch of topics was not lost on her, but she decided to let it pass. For the moment. "Yes?"
"We're going to Russia."
~
The 9 o'clock news had forecasted a storm and the sky was already dark and pregnant with rain. But Cain was determined to get to the diner that day. He had a two o'clock meeting which meant the day was still young, even if the dark clouds made the sky look as dark as early evening. Nothing was going to make him miss the meeting, not even the rain splattering hard against his windows or a tornado or a frigging earthquake.
Finding a parking space was surprisingly easy today because the diner was usually packed. Seems he had the rain to thank for that. A blue Sedan was already in the parking lot and he guessed it belonged to Tucker, the person he was meeting.
Wind and rain slashed at him as he made a run for the door of the diner. The rain trickled down the back of his neck and he shook it off in the doorway then crossed to a small booth near the bar and slid into it.
"Do you have it?"
"Hello to you too, Rodgers."
"Do you have it?" He repeated.
Tucker sighed. "You drag me out of my house in this storm and you can't even extend me the courtesy of a greeting?"
Rodgers gritted his teeth and grabbed Tucker's arm, wishing he'd brought his gun to knock some sense into him. "Don't play on my patience, Tucks. It's very thin."
Tucker swallowed. "I shouldn't be doing this. It's wrong."
"It's not wrong. You're helping serve justice."
"I wonder what your superiors would say if they heard that."
Rodgers gave him a slow, icy smile. "I hope you're not threatening me, boy?"
He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. He looked nervous and uncomfortable. "What I mean is – what I'm saying is, it should be by the right channels."
A waiter sauntered over to them. "Hey Tucks." Then she smiled at Rodgers. "What are you both having?"
He flashed her his best smiles, one that was famous for melting women, even ones with the highest brick wall around their hearts – and legs. Except Pamela King. She seemed to be made of a thermosetting material. She never melted.
"We're fine, thanks."
She popped a gum bubble which irritated the crap out of Cain and sashayed away, swaying her hips and jiggling her huge boobs.
"Again, do you have it?"
"I can't be implicated. My life would be over if I'm caught."
Trying his best to stay in his seat, Cain leaned forward and said with a beastly snarl, "Look you ruddy old son of a bitch. Either you give me what I want or I will make good of my promises, and you know me, I never fail to deliver."
He swallowed audibly and handed a file to him. Cain snatched it and skimmed through it. His brows puckered.
"There were two DNA samples in the car?"
"One of them belongs to a Delaney Whittaker."
"And the other?"
"No match in the criminal database. I checked the suspects. Not them either."
He frowned. "Who the hell could it be? Find out."
"What am I supposed to do? I have tried to match it with every living person in the database! I say you focus on getting Whittaker. She's the perp, isn't she? There are eyewitnesses to back it up."
Cain shook his head firmly. "I have this feeling that the unknown person is crucial. Most times the obvious is hidden in plain sight." He looked up at Tucker. "But you did well. I'll follow this lead."
He semed tremendiously relieved. Rodgers stood.
"Remember, Tucks, breathe a word of this to anybody and you're toast. Clear?"
He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Crystal."
"Good." Cain patted him on the back and slid out of the booth, making sure to wink at the heavily breasted waiter on his way out. She would be in his bed soon. The rain hadn't let up so he broke into a run back to his car. He saw a figure come up behind him. Tucker. He was also getting into his car.
Rogers shut his door and fished for his keys. As he was about to start the car, something hit him so ferociously, almost knocking the wind out of him. Galvanized, he got out of his car and broke into a run after Tucker who was already backing out of the driveway. He shouted and waved his hands like an epileptic. He was acting like a fool, he knew, but this was damned important.
Tucker stopped and Rodgers slowed into a jog.
"What now?" Tucker said as he rolled down the window.
Cain didn't appreciate his tone of voice but he let it slide. "Something you said stuck out to me." He shouted over the pelting rain.
"Why don't you get in, it's raining."
"I won't melt. Just shut your mouth and listen."
He grunted an unintelligible reply.
"You said you had checked the unidentified DNA over living persons."
"Yes."
"Not dead."
Tucker stared at him, mouth agape, "So what, you want me to check it across every dead criminal?"
"One with motive."
"Well that narrows it down."
He lowered his voice to a low, confidential growl. "And I have just the dead person in mind."
~
"What did you just say?"
"I want us to go to my family home."
"What? Why?"
"Because I want us to."
"No, Devlin. I don't think it's the right thing. I mean, you don't want to. Do you?"
He smiled gently at her. "I have made peace with my past. It's about time, too."
Pamela looked doubtful. "Are you sure?"
He nodded. "I want the the woman I love to know all about me. If you want I'll tell you my whole story."
"It's not necessary. I mean I want to hear it," she quickly said. "I just don't know if you're ready. I don't want to make you talk about your past that made you so..." She paused to search for the proper adjective but couldn't come up with one.
"Scarred." He supplied and she winced. "I know. It's ugly. And you are entitled to know just how ugly it was."
She said nothing but looked up at him, her eyes sad. He continued, "As husband and wife, we should be transparent. We should have no secrets. And honey I have a gallon of those."
"I'd love to hear your story."
"Thank you. You're a worthy audience." He pulled her close and kissed her hair. "But first, we have to sort out this problem with the cops."
Pamela frowned as she remembered. "Do you know a Cain Rodgers?"
"I don't think so, no."
"Oh? Okay."
"Why? What's wrong?"
She shrugged. "He was one of the crime scene investigators. I hate him. He has this reptilian attitude, ugly as hell."
"Amen."
They burst out laughing but was interrupted when there was a knock at the door. They exchanged curious glances.
"Who is it?" Pamela called.
"Detective Rodgers."
Pamela gave Devlin a frightened look and whispered, "It's him."
He squeezed her hand. "Open it. Act normal. You'll be fine."
She shook her head. "He'll want to come in. Where can you hide?"
"I'll leave though the conditioning vent. That's how I got in that day."
She didn't have time to question what he was talking about but she believed him. She waited for a full minute after Devlin had crawled into the rather small conditioning vent that was in the room before she took a deep breath and walked up to the door.
She had a smile plastered on her face but it froze when she opened the door and saw what he pointed at her.
"Can I come in?" He asked sweetly.
"No. I'm very tired. I want to rest."
"I won't take long."
"You left a few hours ago. Why are you back here? What do you want?" She looked pointedly at what he held like a weapon in his hand. "And why do you have a picture of my husband in your hand?"
He pushed his way in and came around to face her, then raised his hand to push the door shut. The sound of the door jamming made her jump.
"I won't waste your time."
She crossed to the other end of the room. "Let's go downstairs. To the siting room."
He smiled. "I don't have that time, Miss. As I said, I'll be quick."
She folded her arms beneath her breasts and nodded at him to go on.
"I have reasons to believe that your husband is alive."
Pamela went weak with dread. "What?"
He took a step closer. "I know that this must be hard for you to swallow but you need to hear me out."
"No. Get out."
The next instant, he was standing beside her and holding her arms. Pamela struggled to free his grip but he held on tight.
"I know your husband is alive, Pamela, and I know you know about it."
"Let go of me."
"It will be in your best interest to give him up, else, you'll be aiding and abetting a fugitive."
"Let me go!"
He did. Pamela put enough distance between them. She became conscious of the fact that she was wearing just a bathrobe. She was glad she had switched her towel for one after Devlin arrived.
"I know your husband's alive." He said again.
She looked up at him with eyes as cold as ice shards. "He is."
Rodgers' eyes went round in shock but it quickly wore off and got replaced by suspicion. He obviously hadn't expected her to confess easily. "I see. When did you know?"
"A few weeks ago."
"Was he the reason you called off your wedding?"
She was quiet for a little while then reluctantly nodded.
"So he has made contact with you."
She shook her head. "He sent flowers on the wedding day with a card that read, 'You're getting married? Have you forgotten you're still married to me?' "
He watched her for a full thirty seconds before saying, sounding like the voice of doom, "I don't believe you."
"Why would I lie about something so sensitive?"
"Because you're a damned good lair and you're hiding something, I know it."
Pamela took in a deep breath, letting it fill her lungs and then expelling it slowly. "I know what you're chasing."
"Really? What am I chasing?"
"A wild goose. You will get nothing from me because I've told you all I know."
"You're lying."
"I'm not!"
"Where are the flowers?"
"I burned them. Along with the card."
He barked a short laughter. "Unbelievable."
She stared into near space for a few seconds, then looked over at him. "He died before my eyes, Detective. I buried him. What would you do if you got flowers from a person you had buried?"
"I don't know, take it to the cops, maybe."
"I didn't think it was necessary."
"Of course you didn't. You don't trust the authorities. Everyone has a price. Blah dee blah. Dogshit!"
She closed her eyes and counted to ten. "I thought it was someone playing a cruel joke on me."
"That someone must have been really persuasive cause he made you call off your wedding and move out of your house."
Her patience had worn thin. She walked to the door and yanked it open. "You need to leave. Now."
"Not if you just confessed to aiding and abetting."
"Really? So am I under arrest?"
He looked on stubbornly. "I am very close to bringing you in. And trust me, it will be sooner than later."
"Guess I'll have to book my lawyer now."
"I can let it all go away if you tell me where your husband is."
"I don't know."
He rushed over to her, kicked the door close and gripped her arms. "You're lying!"
She dug her nails into his arms and tried to wrest her hand free from his grip. "You're hurting me!
"For the last time, where is your husband?" He gritted with an undertone of threat, playing on her evident fear.
Her eyes were filling with tears that she didn't want him to see. "I don't know!"
"Lair!" Rodgers bellowed but Pamela didn't hear the shout because the sound of a vase crashing on his head overpowered it. It caught him on the temple and split the skin on impact. His eyes rolled back, his knees buckled, and he went down flat.
Devlin came into view. He stepped over Rodgers and took her in his arms.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes." She looked down and the detective. "Is he dead?"
"I hope."
"No, he can't be dead. They'll put you behind bars for real!" Her lip quivered and a sob threatened to choke off her voice.
"Pamela calm down. We don't have time to care if he's alive or not. We have to leave now. Put some clothes on."
Without arguing, she peeled off her robe, letting it slide off her onto the floor. Then she stepped into panties and worked a T-shirt over her head. He took a pair of sneakers from the closet and dropped them at her feet, then helped her into them.
"Where are we going?"
"I don't know. It could be the Netherlands or Timbuktu. We just have to put distance between us and this place."
"But if you take me with you, you'll be adding kidnapping to your other crimes. At least that's what they'll think."
"Let them." He looked at his wristwatch and looked back at her. "So here's the plan. You're going to tell the cops downstairs that you're going somewhere."
"Where?"
"I don't know, anywhere. Say your grandma died or you're in labor. Come up with something. Then I, as the waiter, will take this food away and say you refused to eat."
"Don't you think they'll recognize you?"
"Let's better hope they don't."
She took a jacket and wore it over her T-shirt then started moving toward the door. He grabbed her arm suddenly, halting her. She raised confused eyes at him, but he raised a finger to his lips, telling her to be quiet.
They were still for a few seconds when the door barged open and two uniformed cops burst into the room.
One of them uttered a surprised sound when they saw blood pooling on the floor. Before they could turn around, Devlin grabbed one of them and practically threw him, face first, into the wall. He went down with a grunt.
The other one lunged at Devlin with a heavy blow, making him stagger backwards. He reached for his gun and jammed it hard against Devlin's temple. Devlin reeled backwards and landed on the floor and lay motionless.
Fear clutched at Pamela's heart. She had to do something! Then she remembered. The same club Devlin had used to brain Henry was still in her room and so she ran to reach for it, but as she moved, the cop wheeled around and caught her ankle. She stumbled, fell forward and hit her collarbone hard against the wooden bedframe. She cried out in pain.
"Bitch!" The man spat at her and turned to look at Devlin. "I kill you myself and I will be promoted. The whole town will chant my name for this heroic deed." With that conviction, he quickly reached for his handgun and aimed it at Devlin's chest, in a bid to fire.
But Pamela was quicker.
While he was busy gloating, she had retrieved the club. Now, putting her entire weight behind the swing, she whacked the man in the ribs. He bent over double and bellowed swear words. She raised it again and hit him hard on the back of his head. He went out cold.
Her heart in her mouth, Pamela bent over Devlin and slapped his face.
"Devlin? Babe? Wake up!"
He was still and cold. Her hands started to shake. Was he gone? Tears filled her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. "Devlin!" She placed her finger over his nose. His breathing was shallow but it was there. He needed a doctor, a hospital. But she couldn't take him to one, he wouldn't want her to! She slapped him harder. "Come on! Devlin!"
"That hurts." He groaned and opened his eyes slowly.
She laughed in relief and kissed him, teary faced and all. "What was that you were saying about going to Russia?"
"Yes?"
"I think it's high time we did."
~
This chapter is very long. I hope you loved it! Thank you so, so, so much for reading. I can't begin to express myself in words. I'm grateful.
And happy Thanksgiving in arrears! As promised, there'll be a bonus chapter during the week. See ya then!
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