Author: Valerie Hansen
Category: Nonfiction
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/valerie-hansen/page,13,574796-on_the_run.html
Just then there was a bump and a squeal that sounded like car tires spinning on wet pavement. The plane pitched forward slightly, then settled and began to slow.
Brad was so relieved, so overjoyed, he dropped his guard for a split second. That was long enough for Janie to lean closer and kiss his cheek unexpectedly.
A wide grin split his face. “Thanks, but I didn’t do anything special. The pilots should get all the credit. That was some awesome flying.”
“I know.” She grinned back at him. “I’ll kiss them, too, if you want.”
“Never mind. You don’t want them to get the wrong idea.”
Her smile grew as her cheeks warmed to a pretty pink. “Uh-oh. Did you?”
“I sure hope not,” Brad said lightly, hoping she’d understand a little of what he was trying to tell her without coming right out and saying the words.
Judging by the rosy color of her fair complexion she was getting the idea that he was taking the show of affection seriously. It was way too soon for that, of course, but he knew no amount of reasoning was going to alter how he felt.
Either the following days would bring them closer or push them apart. Whatever happened, he knew he’d have to accept it. But he sure wasn’t going to be happy if he was distanced from Janie.
Not one bit.
SIXTEEN
As the plane taxied off the runway, Janie peered out the closest window, expecting to spy a terminal and other planes. The lighted outline of the airstrip, itself, and several small hangars were all she could see.
The tail swung around. The hatch, a side section of fuselage with steps on it, lowered slowly. She waited with Pixie as Brad shook hands with the pilots and paused at the open doorway. The tension in his body was evident. Then he apparently spotted a friendly face because he waved and started down the ramp to the tarmac.
Damp, cool air swirled until the engines were stopped. Then there was silence except for the leftover gusts from the edges of the storm. Waiting for Brad’s signal, Janie stood very still, listening, alert for any possible threat despite Brad’s relaxed demeanor.
Finally, he turned and motioned to her. “Come on. I want you to meet my chief.”
She clung to the railing with one hand and cradled her little pet with her other arm as she went down the stairs.
“Janie Kirkpatrick, meet Chief Wes Winterhaven,” Brad said as she joined them.
“How do you do, sir?” Janie offered her hand and the chief shook it. He was a bit older than she’d imagined but since he had had a nearly adult son it made sense that he’d be middle-aged. Although he was in plain clothes instead of his uniform, his bearing identified him as a person who took charge and knew what he was doing. He could just as easily have been a retired military officer with his short gray hair and well-trimmed mustache.
“My pleasure. And please call me Wes. In the operation that’s to follow we’ll be on a first-name basis, anyway. The last thing I want to do is cause anyone to suspect I’m anything but a wealthy businessman.”
“Of course.”
Brad interrupted, “Where are we, anyway? The pilot mentioned the name Armbruster.”
Janie’s glance had drifted past the hangars to a brightly lit building perched on the crest of a hill in the distance. It reminded her of one of the modern mansions she’d seen on the covers of decorating magazines. If it was half as big and luxurious as it looked, it promised to be amazing.
“Yes,” Wes said. “This place belongs to Harold Armbruster. We met in college, years ago, and have stayed friends. He and his wife, Meg, have a son about Wesley Jr.’s age.”
Speaking that name caused the older man’s smile to fade and his countenance darken. Janie remembered well the name of the teen whose murder Brad was trying to solve. No wonder the chief had gone to such lengths to discover who was behind that killing and probably others.
Brad looped an arm of comfort over Wes’s shoulders and walked with him to a waiting limo. Janie followed. She wished she had nicer clothing but that couldn’t be helped. Surely, there would be accommodations in that enormous mansion that would enable her to both clean up and appear less like a street urchin. That was certainly how she felt climbing into the back of the limousine with Brad and Wes.
A uniformed driver the size of a football linebacker held the door for them, then slid behind the wheel. She yearned to ask more questions, to hear about the plans for her and for Brad now that they were in a secure location, but she didn’t want to disturb the men’s thoughts.
She stared at Brad, waiting for him to notice. An arch of one eyebrow was his only reaction when he met her gaze. That, and a barely perceptible shake of his head was all the acknowledgment he gave.
Fine. She’d sit there like a useless bump on a log for as long as it took. At this point there was no way she was giving anybody a reason to sideline her. She was in this up to her neck and intended to see it through to the end, whatever that turned out to be.
Her intrinsic awareness of the driver gave her a shiver. The man’s eyes reflected in the mirror were dark and brooding. They matched the rest of his persona and it was unsettling.
So, how was she going to figure out who to believe and who to doubt?
Don’t trust anybody came to her as clearly as if Brad had whispered it in her ear.
Janie shivered from her toes to the top of her head. Don’t trust any man had been her motto from childhood and she had managed to cling to that without exception. Until she’d met Brad. Her heart and mind insisted he was the exception to her firm rule and she refused to argue the point. She was, however, suspicious of everyone else to some degree.
Did that include the police chief? she asked herself. His role in their ongoing drama seemed innocent enough. It was his friends she felt most wary about. Them, and their minions, such as the chauffeur, who looked as though he could snap this limo in half without even breaking a sweat.
The luxury car followed a circular drive, stopping smoothly in front of a stone portico framed by square columns and containing an intricately carved door with eclectic patterns of stained glass inserts.
Janie stifled a gasp. “Oh, my!”
Brad agreed, “Yeah. What she just said.” He turned to his chief as the driver opened the car door. “You actually went to school with this guy?”
Winterhaven nodded. “I did. Of course, I didn’t know at the time how wealthy his family was. Unlike a lot of my classmates, he didn’t flaunt it. After we graduated, I went on to the police academy and Harold came back to Missouri to join his father and brothers in the advertising business. Thanks to him, the company diversified from print into multimedia at just the right time.”
“Earning enough to build a palace,” Janie said softly, belatedly realizing she had spoken her thoughts aloud.
That brought a chuckle from Brad that made her blush as she grasped his offered hand and stepped out.
“Yeah,” he said to Wes. “It looks like your friend can afford to send a private plane for us. I was kind of worried about that. I know it costs a lot.”
The chief gave them a wistful smile. “He’s promised to fund my—our—efforts to get to the bottom of things. I already mentioned some of our suspicions and he’s acquainted with a few of the names on my list.”
Brad voiced Janie’s innermost thoughts. “I don’t see how that can help. I mean, suspecting and being certain are very different things, not to mention proving anything.”
Nodding support, Janie kept watching the chief’s face and analyzing his responses, searching for warning signs. She saw none. Nor did she doubt Winterhaven’s trust in his old friend. The problem was the outlying figures in this possible conspiracy. Who was going to vet them?
Together, the trio climbed the stone steps to the front entrance. Before they got to the door, it swung open. A portly gentleman wearing a cashmere sweater and obviously expensiv
e loafers with fine wool slacks greeted them with open arms.
“Hello, hello, hello. Welcome. Any friends of Wes’s are friends of mine.” He swept his arm to the side and half bowed. “Please, come in. And call me Harold.”
Brad and the chief stood back for Janie so she led the way, managing to offer a hand and shake Armbruster’s without Pixie trying to nip him. “I’m Janie Kirkpatrick. How do you do?”
“My pleasure.” His twinkling gray eyes seemed totally without guile. “I take it you’re the courageous nurse who accidentally got mixed up in all of this.”
She smiled in response to his praise. “It was a surprise but so far, so good.”
“And more good to come, Lord willing,” the older man said as he reached to greet the men. “Has Wes filled you in on our latest plan?”
Shaking her head, Janie noted that Brad looked confused, too. That wasn’t terribly comforting. She’d have liked it better if he had at least known what they were getting into before agreeing to it. However, in retrospect, she could see that they hadn’t had much of a choice, particularly with armed assassins waiting for them around every corner and behind every bush.
“Well, never mind that now,” their host said. “I know you all must be tired and hungry. What will it be first? Food or sleep?”
Brad deferred to his chief and Janie to Brad. Wes took charge. “Let’s get these agents a decent meal and then show them to their rooms,” he said. “There’ll be plenty of time for planning tomorrow.”
Janie had to struggle to keep a wide grin in check. The chief was equating her with Brad as if she, too, were a police officer. The notion was thrilling. Complimentary beyond imagination.
It was also frightening, particularly since she was now in unfamiliar territory both physically and emotionally. There was nothing in her upbringing or any of her professional training that equipped her to fit into this environment, let alone function so that she wouldn’t attract undue attention.
Armbruster led the party through a formal dining room, opulent with crystal chandeliers and fresh flower arrangements setting off an enormous table and twelve chairs. Janie absently brushed at her worn clothing, hoping he wasn’t going to invite them to sit at such a formal table.
The kitchen they then entered was mostly polished stainless steel and copper and appeared to be fit for any occasion from small family meals to preparing the grandest of banquets.
“Please, everyone, have a seat,” Harold said. He eyed Pixie. “Would you like me to have one of my people take care of that dog for you? They could walk her.”
“Thank you for the offer. But I’d rather look after her myself. She’s used to me.” Janie flashed a glance at Brad. “To us.”
“I see. Well, as long as my wife isn’t here to object, it’s fine with me if you keep her with you at the table.”
Warmth of embarrassment rose on Janie’s face, turning her cheeks rosier. “I am sorry. Really. Pixie needs me to take care of her.”
The police chief elbowed Brad. “Sounds an awful lot like something you’ve said recently, if I recall.”
It was evident, judging by the guarded expression on Brad’s face and the cynicism on Wes’s, that she was involved in that comparison even though her name hadn’t been mentioned, and she decided to turn the tables on them.
“The main reason I agreed to fly up here was to keep looking after Brad the same as I do Pixie. I wanted to be handy if he needed more patching up.”
Although Janie had intended to be funny, the thought of Brad being injured caused cold dread to spread through her. He was standing right there in front of her, yet she was already experiencing a sense of great loss.
SEVENTEEN
Brad didn’t particularly appreciate Janie’s insinuation that he’d needed her instead of the other way around, but he could understand why she’d made it. And, in a way, he had to agree. She had pulled him out of the figurative fire more than once. Of course he’d returned the favor, a fact he would fully explain the first chance he got to speak to Wes and Harold in private.
No doubt Janie was special. There was a feistiness to her that reminded him of the way her silly little dog tackled the world. Maybe that was why dog and master were so well suited to each other. He wondered which breed of dog would best complement him. Not that it mattered. In his line of work, having pets at home would be a distinct disadvantage.
The same thing went for having a family, Brad realized. Most of the cops who did marry reported difficulties. Not only did they face constant temptation, the spouse often felt physically and emotionally abandoned, not to mention the possibility of children growing up without the positive influence of two parents.
That was what had befallen Chief Westerhaven, Brad recalled. Wes and his ex-wife had shared custody of their only son, but the older the boy got, the less control Wes had over him. When Wesley Jr. had gotten in a bind with the drug scene and had begged his dad for help, it had already been too late.
Which was another reason why the chief was so determined. And why Brad had vowed to help his friend and mentor regardless of the sacrifices he’d have to make. The only aspect that wasn’t fair was the involvement of the innocent nurse.
His gaze met Janie’s across the kitchen table. Their eyes locked and the rest of the room faded into insignificance. Brad reached toward her hand, realizing the distance was too great yet yearning to offer encouragement.
Instead of meeting his effort halfway, Janie got to her feet and purposely changed chairs. Once she was seated beside him she rested one hand on the edge of the table where he could easily reach it.
“I’m so sorry this is happening to you,” Brad said quietly as he threaded his fingers between hers.
“It is what it is,” she replied.
The trembling he had expected to feel was gone. So was the physical chill he’d felt a few times when he’d touched her during the flight. “You’re really all right?”
She gave his hand a squeeze. “I am.” A smile twitched the corners of her mouth. “When I’m with you, I’m more than all right. Don’t ask me to explain it, I just feel safer.”
“You’re not all that safe when people are shooting at us,” he countered.
“We’re here. Together.” Another squeeze. “We survived things that could have ended one or both of us. Yet they didn’t. I, for one, am deeply grateful.”
“And I owe you,” Brad said tenderly. “A lot.”
Chuckling, Wes interrupted, “Okay, you two. If the mutual admiration is finished, let’s eat, shall we?” He looked to their host. “My thanks to Mr. Armbruster and his staff for providing such wonderful choices on short notice.”
Brad passed the basket of bread first, then began to hand along plates of roast meats and cheeses that servers in aprons had placed there. Condiments sat in the center of the oval table in small crystal bowls and cruets.
A shiver at the nape of his neck caused him to eye the door. Two large men wearing tailored jackets had taken up positions on either side of the doorway. He turned to the opposite exit. It, too, was being guarded.
At his side, Brad felt Janie’s elbow. When he looked at her, she was nodding in the direction of the men he’d noticed. “Yes,” he said. “I see them.”
“They’re good guys, right?”
“They have to be,” Brad told her.
“You’re sure?”
Janie’s doubt reinforced his own. Yes, they were supposed to be on safe ground there. But his instincts were not convinced. Normally he’d have credited his unease to the trials they’d experienced in order to reach the estate. In this case, however, he tended to trust Janie’s senses as well as his own. Given her reluctance to simply accept the situation and let down her guard, he wouldn’t do so, either.
Leaning closer to whisper in her ear, Brad said, “Time will tell.”
She turned to face him. “That
’s what I was afraid you’d say.”
Their eyes met. So close despite the others at the table and the servants and bodyguards in the background.
All he’d have to do is lean a few inches closer and he could kiss her. Again.
Long seconds passed. Time slowed. Brad hardly breathed. Then he began to turn his head away.
In his peripheral vision he caught a slight movement. Janie had moved, too, only not away from him.
He felt her soft lips brush his cheek, the caress of her warm breath against his skin. If he’d been a split second slower she’d have actually kissed him—in front of all these people!
The thought brought an unwelcome blush and a tenuous smile as Brad looked around the table. Wes and Harold were averting their glances and ostensibly concentrating on their food. But they had seen.
Releasing Janie’s hand, Brad picked up his sandwich and took a bite. It might as well have been made of cardboard because he hardly tasted it.
In his mind, despite all his efforts to the contrary, he was reliving her innocent kiss and remembering what it had felt like when he had kissed her to silence her outside the hospital.
That was different, he insisted. He’d only done it because he hadn’t wanted to clamp his hand over her mouth to quiet her down. Yeah, right, his conscience countered. You did exactly what you wanted to do.
He shrugged, continuing to eat. Any affection he had shown Janie when they were away from known acquaintances actually had been different. Then, nobody who mattered would have observed their emotional connection or guessed how much they meant to each other. Here and now, they were on a totally different playing field.
That’s what it was, Brad concluded. An arena. With unknown players and very little defense on their team. Wes, he trusted. And perhaps Armbruster, too, although that was still to be proven.
He cast a sidelong glance at the bodyguards. They were the largest unknown factor. Brad’s experience as a cop had shown him that some allegiances were deeper and stronger than money, no matter how much cash was involved. Almost anyone could be bought but that was no guarantee that they would remain true to the one who paid them under every circumstance.