Elusive (On The Run Book #1) by Sara Rosett Page B

you on his business
trips out there.”
    “I don’t know what this Jack guy
told you—”
    “He’s my ex-husband, and I have an
e-mail he sent you,” Zoe’s free hand dug into the comforter, twisting and
wrinkling the lush fabric.
    “I wish I could help you, but I
don’t know him,” the woman said and hung up.
    Zoe pulled the phone away from her
ear and stared at it, checking the number. Yes, she recognized the pattern of
the last four numbers. It was the number she’d dialed earlier, the number from
Jack’s e-mail to this Murano Glassworks place. “What is going on?” she asked
aloud, rubbing her forehead.
    ––––––––
    Dallas
    Thursday, 8:37 a.m.
    ––––––––
    THE sun had barely cleared the
treetops, and the humidity was already building, but Zoe barely noticed as her
feet pounded the asphalt. She had awoken with all the questions still buzzing
around her brain and decided a run might clear her head. It felt good to focus
inwardly, settling into the comforting rhythm of her breathing and the pulse of
the music in her ears. On her tight budget, she couldn’t afford a gym or the
martial arts classes that she and Jack had briefly taken together during the
early months of their marriage. Any kind of fitness classes were out of her
reach financially now, but she didn’t mind. She had some kickboxing and yoga
videos for when the weather was too bad to go outside, but running was her most
frequent workout—cheapest, too. She splurged on a pair of Asics running shoes
once a year, and she was set.
    She made the turn in the
cul-de-sac near the end of her run at Whispering Wind Court, her cue to crank
up the speed. She loved her sprint home, and she shot out of the short
cul-de-sac, her ponytail beating against her shoulders as her arms pumped. She
glanced left and right before she dashed across the street and that was when
she caught a glimpse of the brown car again. She stumbled, regained her
balance, and automatically returned to her quick pace.
    That
can’t be a coincidence
. Her thoughts raced as quickly as her feet.
It was the same car she’d seen yesterday, doing the slow roll by her house, and
now it was back again. She made the turn onto her block, and instead of running
home, she dodged into her neighbor’s yard and slipped behind the tall hedge
that bordered their house.
    Breathing noisily, she crouched,
wishing she hadn’t worn a hot pink tank. At least her running shorts were
black. She waited, her heart hammering and her calves tightening from the
abrupt halt in exercise and her awkward position. She shifted on the balls of
her feet. The street remained empty and quiet, except for the chatter of a
squirrel.
Maybe I am losing it
.
    Then she heard the low purr of an
engine and the brown car slid past. The older FBI guy, the quiet one, was on
the passenger side, and his gaze scoured the street.
    Zoe leaned back against her
neighbor’s house. The rough brick bit into her bare shoulders. They were
following her. Watching her. The thought made her heart rate climb more than
her jog had.
    Zoe quickly shadowed the hedge and
slipped into her backyard. She slammed into the kitchen, grabbed a paper towel,
and wiped the sweat from her forehead and the back of her neck as she sprinted
upstairs. In Jack’s bedroom, she stood to one side of the window, careful not
to let her sweaty back touch the gold curtains. Her breathing had returned to
normal, and she was doing some calf stretches by the time the brown car eased
up to the curb a few houses down and parked.
    Zoe bit her lip as she stared at
the car. No one got out. Why were they following her? What did they have to
gain from watching her? She knew nothing about GRS and after her discoveries
last night, it was apparent that she didn’t even know Jack that well. Heck,
they probably knew more about him—the real Jack—than she did. She stepped away
from the window and went to shower, hoping it would be a blazing hot and humid
day.