didn’t follow us.”
Momentarily placated, she returned to putting pressure on his arm. “Where are we going?”
“My house. We’ll make a plan from there.”
“Your house?” she asked with just enough of a catch in her voice to make him glance her way.
“Problem?”
“No, no problem. Those men weren’t FBI agents.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But the FBI doesn’t typically try to kill people like that and I wasn’t willing to take the chance.”
She was glad he hadn’t. “What would they have done if you hadn’t been there?” she asked quietly.
“I was there. That’s all that matters.”
They drove in silence for a while. Kaylee felt her body relax with every mile they put between them and her apartment, but it jolted when her cell phone rang. She grabbed it, praying that it wouldn’t be her Winfield source. Not now, not now .
“Do you recognize the number?” he asked.
No . “No.” She held out the phone to him and he stared at the small screen.
“Out of the country area code,” he said slowly. “Africa exchange.”
Her mouth dried.
“Answer it—put it on speaker. Tell whoever it is that you’re alone if they ask,” he told her.
“Hello?” No answer, just the familiar crackle, the faint hum and pause of an overseas line.
“KK.”
Aaron . “What’s going on? The FBI were here asking me questions about you.”
“What did you tell them?”
“Nothing. I told them nothing. But they know you’re alive—said you faked your death.”
There was a long break, and she thought for sure she’d lost the call. And then she heard his voice crackle across the line. “Don’t tell them anything. Don’t trust them.”
She didn’t say anything, stared up at Nick while he listened intently.
“KK, are you there?”
“I’m here. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I need you to pull the money from my account and bring it to me, to Africa, or else I’m a dead man for sure.”
“What do you mean?”
“The less you know for now, the better.”
“Where am I going with the money? I can’t just show up in the middle of Africa.”
But he wasn’t listening, was giving her a string of numbers, repeating them over and over. They sounded like latitude and longitude.
“Please, just meet me, bring me the money—I’ll need it within forty-eight hours.”
“Aaron, I can’t—”
“Please. It has to be you who brings it. I would never hurt you, KK. You know that. Please just come to Africa now.” A long pause and then, “If it wasn’t so important, I’d never ask you to do something like this.”
The line went dead and for a few minutes she closed her eyes and let the motion of the car transport her to someplace else—anyplace else—until Nick jerked the car off the road at a secluded spot along the thruway and slammed it into park.
When she finally opened her eyes, Nick was staring at her, waiting, and her words came out in a rush. “He left me money—a lot of money, too much for him to have gotten legitimately.”
“Did you check with the bank?”
God, why was he so calm? “Right after that first call from Aaron when I opened the safe-deposit box and found the list and a bankbook. Do you think those men know about the money?”
He drummed the top of the steering wheel with his fingertips, like he was sending out some kind of code. “They seemed to know a whole hell of a lot.”
Yes, they knew too much, and she far too little. That needed to change. “What kind of game is this, Nick?”
This situation was far from a game. Nick had wanted to pull over, grab the phone and demand that whoever the fuck was pretending to be Aaron cut the bullshit immediately, but Nick was well aware that his emotions were far too close to the edge. The past forty-eight hours had been a whirlwind—the past twenty-four alone had drained nearly all of his reserves.
So he’d listened instead. Listened to the man
Momentarily placated, she returned to putting pressure on his arm. “Where are we going?”
“My house. We’ll make a plan from there.”
“Your house?” she asked with just enough of a catch in her voice to make him glance her way.
“Problem?”
“No, no problem. Those men weren’t FBI agents.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But the FBI doesn’t typically try to kill people like that and I wasn’t willing to take the chance.”
She was glad he hadn’t. “What would they have done if you hadn’t been there?” she asked quietly.
“I was there. That’s all that matters.”
They drove in silence for a while. Kaylee felt her body relax with every mile they put between them and her apartment, but it jolted when her cell phone rang. She grabbed it, praying that it wouldn’t be her Winfield source. Not now, not now .
“Do you recognize the number?” he asked.
No . “No.” She held out the phone to him and he stared at the small screen.
“Out of the country area code,” he said slowly. “Africa exchange.”
Her mouth dried.
“Answer it—put it on speaker. Tell whoever it is that you’re alone if they ask,” he told her.
“Hello?” No answer, just the familiar crackle, the faint hum and pause of an overseas line.
“KK.”
Aaron . “What’s going on? The FBI were here asking me questions about you.”
“What did you tell them?”
“Nothing. I told them nothing. But they know you’re alive—said you faked your death.”
There was a long break, and she thought for sure she’d lost the call. And then she heard his voice crackle across the line. “Don’t tell them anything. Don’t trust them.”
She didn’t say anything, stared up at Nick while he listened intently.
“KK, are you there?”
“I’m here. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I need you to pull the money from my account and bring it to me, to Africa, or else I’m a dead man for sure.”
“What do you mean?”
“The less you know for now, the better.”
“Where am I going with the money? I can’t just show up in the middle of Africa.”
But he wasn’t listening, was giving her a string of numbers, repeating them over and over. They sounded like latitude and longitude.
“Please, just meet me, bring me the money—I’ll need it within forty-eight hours.”
“Aaron, I can’t—”
“Please. It has to be you who brings it. I would never hurt you, KK. You know that. Please just come to Africa now.” A long pause and then, “If it wasn’t so important, I’d never ask you to do something like this.”
The line went dead and for a few minutes she closed her eyes and let the motion of the car transport her to someplace else—anyplace else—until Nick jerked the car off the road at a secluded spot along the thruway and slammed it into park.
When she finally opened her eyes, Nick was staring at her, waiting, and her words came out in a rush. “He left me money—a lot of money, too much for him to have gotten legitimately.”
“Did you check with the bank?”
God, why was he so calm? “Right after that first call from Aaron when I opened the safe-deposit box and found the list and a bankbook. Do you think those men know about the money?”
He drummed the top of the steering wheel with his fingertips, like he was sending out some kind of code. “They seemed to know a whole hell of a lot.”
Yes, they knew too much, and she far too little. That needed to change. “What kind of game is this, Nick?”
This situation was far from a game. Nick had wanted to pull over, grab the phone and demand that whoever the fuck was pretending to be Aaron cut the bullshit immediately, but Nick was well aware that his emotions were far too close to the edge. The past forty-eight hours had been a whirlwind—the past twenty-four alone had drained nearly all of his reserves.
So he’d listened instead. Listened to the man
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