Accomplice by Kristi Lea

turned to
face her “Who was the guy in the alley?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “What did he want?” His voice was flat.
    “I don’t know.” His eyes bored into hers until she
couldn’t take it any longer. She looked away. “You can let me go now.”
    She tried to push past him and bumped him in the
arm with her backpack.
    He winced and his face paled, and he caught her by
the hand, lacing his fingers through hers in a gesture that would be sweet and
lover-ly if his grip weren’t as tough as iron. “I can’t do that.”
    “I thought you said I’m not under arrest.”
    “I said ‘not yet’. I have been looking for you all
over the country. All over two of them. Now that I found you, I want answers.”
    She lifted her chin a notch higher. “Get a
warrant.”
    He stared her down. “Would you rather I drove you
back to that alley? Maybe your pal there will give me some answers.”
    Jessica felt the blood drain from her face.
     
    ***
     
    Noah took Jessica by the hand and pulled her into
the front parlor of the bed and breakfast. Her fingertips were frigid.
    He stopped her in front of a Queen Anne settee
upholstered in Pepto Bismo pink velour. “Sit.”
    She glanced down at their still-joined hands and
extracted her fingers from his before perching warily on the edge of the couch.
Jess wrapped her arms around herself and hunched over. She looked thinner and
the dark smudges under her eyes were definitely not mascara. With the harsh
haircut and the shocking black color, she looked more like a college student
than a starlet.
    The place seemed deserted now, but he had no idea
whether other guests or the owners were lurking about. He wished he had a more
private space, but taking her to his room was wrong for all the wrong reasons.
He tried to swallow, to wet his parched lips. Must have been the run. “How did
you get here? To Asheville?”
    Her eyes flashed. “Magic carpet.”
    Noah turned and stalked to the lace-draped bay
window. He glanced up and down the street, half expecting to see the thugs from
the alley cruising by. The only moving creature was a squirrel, jumping from
bush to bush under the shade of a large magnolia. The quiet should have relaxed
him, but adrenaline still flowed through him.
    “I can't help you unless you trust me.”
    She raised one perfectly arched eyebrow, and he
felt himself drowning in the blue of her eyes. How could anyone see those eyes
and not recognize her?
    “Does that mean you are offering me a plea deal?”
she asked.
    “Does that mean you are guilty of a crime?”
    She made a small harrumphing noise and stared down
at the end table instead.
    Irritation shot through him. “Look, Jessica, I
need answers. I can't help you until I know what is going on. Did you know that
guy in the alley?”
    “No.” She picked at a lace doily with ragged
fingernails.
    He sat on a wing chair covered in some kind of
shiny blue and white striped fabric. It reminded him of his grandmother's
house, all flowers and stripes and perfect dustlessness. The kind of place
where a little boy was expected to sit straight and not wiggle. And sure as
hell not get dirt on the carpet.
    His only consolation was that Jessica looked
equally uncomfortable. He rested his elbows on his knees and tried to catch her
gaze. “Did the thugs know you?”
    “Shouldn't you be calling for backup or something?”
    “I'm off duty.”
    “Is that supposed to make me feel more
comfortable?”
    “I can protect you if you tell me who you're
running from.”
    Her eyes flashed again. “What if I'm running from
you?”
    Her words hit him square in the chest and he sat
back. She was right. What would he do if she was running from him—from the FBI?
    Turn her in.
    His conscience had no doubts. His training had no
doubts. His sense of duty had no doubts. But his wounded shoulder hurt like
hell and Cole’s words haunted him.
    “You're right, Jess. You shouldn't trust me. While
you were on your 'magic carpet ride', someone