Part 5 (1/2)
Jackson stepped through the door and glanced around the old foyer. ”This place looks like the last gang hideout I busted.”
Blu eyed the peeling wallpaper climbing the wall along the stairway. ”She looks tough,” he agreed. ”But she's solid brick on the outside, worth the investment once I fix her up.”
The two men stood side by side. Both tall and dark, they could have easily been mistaken for brothers, except for the fact that Jackson had cat-green eyes and a Chicago accent. But they were perfectly matched at six feet, three inches, both quick thinkers with rebellious natures, and enough nerve and grit to carry through on anything they felt was worth the trouble.
”So you're serious about moving in here?”
”Eventually. Margo says I've been portable long enough.”
Jackson leaned against the doorjamb and shoved his hand into the back pocket of his jeans. ”A
permanent home wouldn't be so bad if you had someone to share it with.”
”Still looking for a wife?” Blu chuckled.
”Or a dog,” Jackson joked, ”that might be easier to live with. I talked to Ry after you left the precinct this
morning. Ran those names for you.”
”And?”
”And nothing. Want me to keep digging?”
It was clear his little nun was on the run-the look on her face when Blu had mentioned Jackson was a
cop had confirmed that much. Questioning his next move, he gestured to the cut on his temple. ”I woke up with a headache this morning. Before I cooled down, I went to see Ry. The more I think about it, the fille must have mistaken me for someone else.”
”You think?”
”Yeah, I think. No sense you wasting your time on a dead end.”
Blu opened the door and followed Jackson outside. Over the hood of the pickup, Jackson hollered, ”Let
me know when you want to start cleaning this place up. I'll give you a hand. I used to work construction
for a few years back in Chicago before I turned stupid and decided to be a cop.” Once Jackson had driven off, Blu headed back inside. He'd barely gotten the door closed when he came face-to-face with his little nun. ”You went to the police about me? Why?”
”Why? You pulled a gun on me yesterday,” Blu pointed out. ”d.a.m.n near put my boot through my skull. My brother-in-law's a cop. I asked him to run those two names you gave me through the computer to see what he could find out. But as I'm sure you heard, they weren't able to get anything on either name.”
”Why didn't you turn me in? As you said, I pulled a gun on you yesterday.”
”Want me to call Jackson back?”
”No!”
”Then start talking,” Blu demanded, leaning against the wall and blocking the only exit available to her. ”I
think being up all night with a headache ent.i.tles me to an explanation.”
”I'm sorry,” she repented. ”I-I'm Kristen Harris... That is, I think I'm Kristen Harris.”
”You think?” Blu frowned. ”What the h.e.l.l does that mean?”
She jutted her chin out stubbornly. ”It means that Ithink it's my name, but I'm not sure. I've lost track of some time.”
”Just how much time are we talking?”
Blu watched as she sat down on the stairs. She ran her hands through her endless hair, then settled them in her lap. ”Everything up until three years ago.I'dlike to go home, but...” She looked up, her brown eyes searching his face. ”I was hoping you could tell me where that might be. Only it looks like that's not going to happen.”
”Why me?”
”I found the photo, and I- This is going to sound weird, but I knew just by looking at you that you were a fisherman.” She paused. ”And ... and I knew it was a hydraulic winch.”
”What?”
”In the picture you're repairing a hydraulic winch.Idon't know how I know that, I just do. I thought it could be a clue to who I was.”
She was right-it sounded crazy to know something but not why or how she knew it. But there might be something to it. A hydraulic winch wasn't the kind of thing a woman would pay much attention to. ”You think you belong here? Belong here with ... me?”
The question caused her cheeks to turn pink. She lowered her head again and stared at her hands. ”You don't recognize me. No, I no longer think you and I have a connection, but I still think there is a strong possibility that you know Salva, even though you say no. Why else would he have your picture on his wall?” She sighed again, then stood. Brus.h.i.+ng her hair away from her small face, she locked gazes with him once more. ”I'm sorry for cracking you in the head yesterday, and for causing you more trouble today. I just wanted a clue so badly that I- Well, I'm sorry.”
When she started past him, Blu reached out and locked his hand around her tiny wrist. ”Not so fast.”
”What now? I said I'm sorry. What more can I say?”
Blu jerked her arm up in the air. ”You can explain these.”
Her face paled and she tried to pull away. ”Let go.”
”These bruises are recent,” Blu insisted. ”Don't pretend you don't remember who gave them to you or why. Is Salvador Maland your boyfriend? Did he rough you up? Are you on the run? Will he follow, or is he already close behind? Is he dangerous, or just a jealous hothead?”
”Stop it!” Suddenly she wedged her hand between them and pulled the derringer from Blu's waistband. Jabbing it into his belly, she said, ”Backoff. I've had enough of big men thinking they have the right to man-handle me.”
Blu released her, but he didn't move back. ”Now what, Angel?”
”He's not my boyfriend. He's...” Her hand started to shake. ”Please, just turn your back for a second. I'll be gone and I won't come back. I promise.”
Blu didn't doubt the minute he did what she asked, she'd slip through the door and he'd never see her again. That fact didn't sit well, and because it didn't, with lightning speed, he knocked the gun from her hand and sent it spinning across the floor. A second later she was in his arms, pressed so close to him that he could feel her heart trying to jump out of her chest.
She started to fight him. When that didn't work, she began to cry. ”Why couldn't you just let me go? I would never have come back. I-”