“Yes, it was good. Life changing, really.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow.
“I’m going to check out today. Thank you.”
Darcy smiled at her. “Tired of our town already?”
“No. I love Shelly. But I don’t…well, I got what I came for.”
“The scenery?”
RJ nodded, unable to speak through the thickening of her throat. Then she turned and headed up to her room.
She should have left earlier, but this morning…well, she’d needed something. Needed to lean in to the only thing that had ever made sense…
Because for the first time in her life, she felt very, very alone. And normally, in the past, her father would have shown up with wisdom.
So she’d come down to breakfast and asked Darcy for directions to the nearest church.
She never expected to see York sitting near the front.
Opening the door to her room, she went straight for her carry-on and tossed it on the bed. Swept the clothing from her drawer into the bag. Went to the bathroom to fetch her toiletries bag.
Stared at her reflection in the mirror. Reddened eyes, a hint of a tan, her dark hair tangled around her face. Do you have nothing? Do you want to be reborn? Do you want to discover your true self?
She had discovered her true self—or at least she thought she had—with York. With him she’d been brave and strong and capable and…
Maybe she didn’t have to have York to be all those things, right?
She ran water and dampened a washcloth, pressing it to her face.
Breathed, hearing her thundering heart.
Then right now is the day of your rebirth.
She couldn’t believe it when she saw York rising, saw him scoot out of the pew, saw him walk up to the altar and bend to his knees. Bow his head.
Saw his shoulders shake.
And right before her eyes, he became reborn. Free.
It wrecked her.
She couldn’t imprison him again with his past. Not just his pain, but with the fear of it roaring back. She couldn’t leave him looking over his shoulder wondering when it might hurt the life he wanted.
She’d find Gustov on her own and make sure he never destroyed Mack’s world.
But somehow, she had to figure out a way to tell Mack about his past…something that didn’t destroy him but enough to let him in on the danger of Gustov.
Then again, Gustov hadn’t shown up yet, and if Mack could stay out of the news, the likelihood of Gustov tracking him to this little town…
Yeah, he should know.
Maybe she could write him a note. Just tell him to watch out.
Grabbing her toiletry kit, she dropped it into the carry-on bag, then closed it up. She could probably bunk with her mother at Wyatt’s place tonight in Seattle. Resume the search for Gustov with Vicktor in the morning.
Yes.
She stood in the silence of the room, pressing her hands to her face.
God, I know I don’t pray enough, but…please, help me to let him go. And protect him.
She blew out her breath, turned, and scooped up her baggage.
Opened her door.
Mack stood in the threshold, one hand braced on the frame. He looked at her, his blue eyes stormy. “I don’t believe you.”
She hitched her breath. “Uh—”
He took a step toward her, backing her into the room. “I don’t believe you.”
“What don’t you—”
“That’s what you said to me five days ago. In Russian, at the pub, wasn’t it? I. Don’t. Believe. You.”
Oh. She nodded.
He closed the door. “Start at the beginning.”
7
None of her crazy story should make sense. But deep in his gut, in the core of his chest, Mack—er, York—knew she was telling the truth.
Or most of it. Because there were parts that didn’t quite fit together.
“Stop, wait. Let me understand this.” He turned to her on the bench where they sat, the afternoon sun falling behind them.
They’d started the conversation in her room. With him on the chair, her pacing.
She made him a little seasick, watching her figure out how to tell him that he was an…well, she didn’t say it aloud, but she’d alluded to the fact that he’d killed people. For a living.
Which, in his book, sounded like an assassin.
What the—?
He’d needed some fresh air then and dragged them outside.
“You’re saying that you were framed for the attempted murder of a Russian general by some mafia thug. And I helped you get out of the country?”
“Yes. You are—were—connected to a guy named Roy. That’s how I found you. Or rather, you found me.” She looked up at him, those blue eyes holding so much of his past, and said, “You saved my life, York.”
York. Not Mack. Still, they sounded alike. So maybe that’s why the name Mack slid so easily into his mind and soul.
“And when you say saved—”
“You helped get me out of Russia. And since then you’ve been hunting for the Russian killer, a man named Damien Gustov. He tried to kill my sister, Coco—your friend Coco. And we think he followed you to America.”
He drew in a breath, met those eyes. “And why did I come to America?”
She swallowed, and there it was.
He might still have whatever instincts that he’d cultivated doing whatever dark things he’d been doing because he could spot a dodge when he saw it.
“Sydney—”
“RJ. My name is Ruby Jane. But sometimes you called me Sydney.”
He frowned.
“After Sydney Bristow, a television show—never mind.” She looked away. “You came to America to bring my nephew, who is half Russian, to the hospital. He has leukemia.”
Oh. Huh.
Yeah, no, he still didn’t believe she was telling him the entire truth.
“Ya ne veryo tebe.”
She looked at him, frowning.
“That’s what you said. It came back to me like a slap right about the time I returned to the church. I was standing in the parking lot and just like that, I heard your voice, clear as day, in Russian. And I understood it.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I debated not coming back, but it occurred to me that someone who had taken the time to track me down all the way to Shelly, Washington, might be someone I need to talk to.” He glanced at her. “And yet, you were leaving. Why?”
She sighed. “Because of what happened today, in church.”
Yes. That.
He could still feel the crazy rush of freedom, the fresh breath, the sense of clean that saturated his body.
He felt new. And even her crazy story didn’t seem to diminish it. Probably because he was finding it very hard to see himself as the action hero-slash-007 spy she painted him as.
Or maybe he just wanted to disbelieve it, because there was the tussle with Teddy…
“You said to me more than once that you’d like to start over, begin again, and…well, here you had your chance. And I didn’t want to take it away from you.”
So she was going to leave him to restart his life. Maybe he had been reading too much into their unspoken past. His own strange attraction to her.
“Then why did you find me in the first place?”