No One Knows Part 36

Aubrey Today It was 8:55 p.m. when she got to the train station. The parking lot was its usual chaos, and Aubrey quickly saw Josh's logic in sending her there. It would be harder to find them here than in the airport, with its long security lines making them sitting ducks for cameras and cops alike.

She should call Tyler. Tell him what she was doing. So he wouldn't worry. Wouldn't be looking. And Chase . . .

And then she saw Josh, and all thoughts of others disappeared.

He hadn't seen her, and he was pacing. God, she'd recognize his walk anywhere. It was something about the cock of his hips, the way they stayed somewhat still while his arms moved. He looked like a caged lion, a gunslinger, someone whose movements were never to excess. In addition to being varsity football, he was a swimmer, which was why his arms moved more than his hips. Years in the pool, off-season training, served to make his body and his gait very distinctive.

Just like Chase.

Chase doesn't exist anymore. There is only Josh.

He turned and saw her, and his face lit up in a smile. It wasn't Josh's face, not exactly, but it was his smile. She saw the years in that smile. She knew it was home. She was home.

The minute he saw her, his gait widened. His walk changed. She watched in fascination-he'd been doing it so she could spot him more easily, and now he went back to some sort of different stepping, so he'd disguised his most recognizable feature yet again.

She was impressed. It must have taken so much time to make all this work. His face, his voice, his walk.

But his face. His face was altered, somehow. Her Josh, but not her Josh. With the coloring, he looked oddly similar to Chase.

Chase, but not Chase.

Josh, but not Josh.

When she reached him, he handed her a ticket. "Follow me," he said, then walked away. There was no grand reunion, no kissing and hugging and crying. She waited a moment, then followed. He headed toward the northbound trains. A heartbeat later, he grabbed her hand and changed directions, down a staircase. She followed him, confused, but realized quickly that he was throwing whoever might be on their trail off yet again.

When they were at the bottom of the stairs, out of sight, only then did he reach for her, pull her into his arms, and hold her tight. It felt so good, so right. She fit with him like she'd never fit with another.

This wasn't happening. This had to be a dream. The meds had kicked in fully, and she felt their warm buzz.

It was all real. It was happening. He was back.

"Josh-" she started, but he shushed her.

"There will be plenty of time to talk later. I need to get us out of here."

She understood. He needed to keep all of his senses about him to keep them safe.

She glanced around, taking in all the details. She'd read enough spy novels to know some of the tradecraft tricks, so she did her best to be subtle, glancing in the reflection of the parked train windows for people looking their way, looking for newspapers upside down in a signal or chalk marks on the station walls they passed.

She saw nothing.

He led her out the side entrance and up to Charlotte Avenue, where they caught a cab east toward the airport. Josh had the cabbie drop them off in the long-term parking lot. As the cab left, he took her hand again and they jogged to the short-term lot. After a moment, he veered off, back to the main parking lot. There was a black SUV in a slot. Josh pulled the keys from his pocket and gave them to her.

"You drive."

He climbed in the backseat.

"Where am I going?"

"The private airport, John C. Tune, off White Bridge Road."

She tried to talk as she drove, tried to ask questions. But Josh kept telling her there would be time for them to catch up later, and to pay attention to her driving.

Traffic was light. Twenty minutes later, they were on a small jet, buckled in, the plane in the air, and she finally saw his hands relax.

"Now can we talk?" she asked.

"Not just yet."

The excitement and drama was turning to annoyance. She wanted answers. She wanted a lot of things.

"Just tell me this. Why?"

He held her hand, tracing his fingers along hers. The familiarity was disconcerting. It felt so right, and so very wrong. Josh gestured to the pilot. "Please, baby. Not until we're safe. Alone."

He handed her a bottle of water, which she drank greedily. When she put it down, he pulled her close, into his arms. Stared into her eyes. Put his hand on the back of her neck. Her heart started to beat like crazy. She wanted this, so badly.

Slowly, he brought his lips down on hers.

Her eyes closed immediately, and she fell into the kiss. This was bliss. She didn't care, didn't care about any of it. Just being able to spend five more minutes with him was heaven.

Her heartbeat was off. Wrong. It was going faster and faster until she could barely breathe. She opened her eyes. Josh had stopped kissing her, was watching her thoughtfully. Her head began to swim; the walls of the plane started to close in on her. She had just enough time to register-he's drugged me-before the world went black.

CHAPTER 63.

Aubrey woke to sunlight. It took her a full minute to get her eyes open. Her head ached and her mouth was bone-dry.

The events came rushing back. Chase. The TBI. The sprint to the train station. The plane.

Josh.

She swung her feet onto the floor. She was barefoot, and the floor was a whitewashed honey oak. She didn't recognize it. She did, however, recognize the voice.

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

He was sitting in a chair four feet from the bed. He shifted, set down a newspaper, and smiled.

"Where are we?" she managed.

"Someplace safe. Head hurt?"

She put a hand to her forehead. "It's splitting."

"Yes, I was afraid of that. Drink some water. It's by your right hand."

She turned her head carefully and saw the tall clear glass. Water became the most important thing to her. She gulped it down.

It didn't make her head hurt any less, but it did help her tongue, which was practically glued to the top of her mouth.

"What's happening? Am I dreaming?" she asked, setting the now empty glass down on the table.

He didn't leave the chair.

"Oh, Aubrey. It's a very long story. One which we will have plenty of time to discuss. But for now, I think it's best that you rest."

It was all hitting her now, the reality of her strange new world. "Not good enough, Josh. I want to know what's happening. I want to know where I am. And where the hell you've been for the past five years. You bastard! You left me all alone."

His voice sounded odd to her cottony ears. "I would never hurt you, Aubrey. Don't you trust me?"

Did she? She looked around the strange room, at her husband's strange face. This man, whom she'd promised to love, honor, and obey until death did they part? Death had parted them. Her obligation ended at death, right?

This man, who'd taken advantage of her. Who'd drugged her. Who'd whisked her away from her life. This man, who let her spend five years praying he was alive somewhere.

The love of her life. The destroyer of all she held dear.

He'd been as good as dead for five years.

And now she was supposed to trust him?

She sat up straighter, tucked her legs beneath her.

"No. I'm afraid I don't trust you a bit."

He laughed then. It was mirthless, and short.

"I can't say that I blame you."

"You have to tell me what's going on. Did you hurt Chase?"

Josh's new face froze. "Five years apart, and you're worried about him? God, Aubrey, I thought you'd be happy to see me. Happy to see that I'm alive. I just saved you from them. I saved your life. Allen was coming for you."

She heard the desperation in his tone. This wasn't going how he'd planned. And Josh was a planner, always had been. When things didn't go along their appropriate path, he always got upset. And she needed him clear and focused right now so she could figure out what the hell was happening.

Amazing how quickly they fell back into their old roles.

"Josh, I . . . Of course I'm happy to see you. I'm still in shock. Please, tell me, what's going on? Where are we? And what did you do to Chase?"

"Fuck Chase," he spat, and she recoiled. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so hostile. It's just that . . . Aubrey, you don't know what it's been like. I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you, too. It's been hell for me. But I suppose you already know that."

His eyes closed, her words slicing across him like a knife. She didn't mean to cause him pain, but she couldn't seem to help herself. Five years, alone. He'd made his choice. A small wall began to build inside her, propping up her spine so she didn't simply collapse in a quivering heap. She had to hold it together. She had to know.

She could still see the hints of the man she'd loved in his new face. But he was a stranger to her now. A stranger who spoke like Josh and walked like Josh. Josh, but not Josh.

"You had plastic surgery?"

"I had to. What was I supposed to do? I was on the run."

She shook her head, looking into the stranger's eyes. "On the run. Five years without a single word. So why now, Josh? What's brought you back to me at last? Is it the money?"

"You never used to be bitter."

"Hey, fuck you, Josh. You clearly have no idea what I've been through, or else you wouldn't be so cavalier with your little quips. Of course I'm bitter. Do you blame me?"

He finally left the chair and dropped to his knees beside the bed. Clasped her hands in his. She let him, for the moment.

"Honey, you have no idea what being apart from you has been like for me. I've missed you every second of every day. It's been hell being apart from you."

"I think you better tell me what's been happening, Josh. From the beginning. Because I'm so confused I don't know what to think."

He nodded, the shadow lifting from his face.

"Aubrey, first . . . Can I kiss you? I promise I won't drug you again, that was for your safety. But, my darling, I've missed you so."

He turned his face to hers, and she couldn't stop herself. She wanted that kiss. She'd ached for it. And when it came, when his lips touched hers for the second time, she was surprised at how strange it felt. Familiar and strange, all at the same time. But not comforting. Not sexy. Not . . . anything.

It's just the stress, Aubrey. That's what's wrong. Just the stress.

She tried to relax, to accept what was happening. To experience the moment. Instead, her desire never rose. A chill went through her. She'd dreamed about this moment, begged for it, bargained and pleaded, just for one more chance to kiss Josh.

What the hell?

Josh noticed her lack of passion, too, ending the kiss at the very moment she started to pull away. She moved her head down, glanced toward the floor.

"It's been a long time, Josh."

"It has." He stood, waiting. When she didn't move into his arms again, he crossed them on his chest and smiled sadly.

"Where are we?" she asked again.

"Ocracoke Island. I've been living here for the past year. It's secure, as secure as I can make it, and it's the only place I know I can keep you safe. I can see them coming, you see. You have to take a ferry to get here. And I have friends here. They're close by."

He moved to the window, which he unshuttered and threw open. She joined him, looking out. A soft, warm breeze caressed her face. The sun was shining; it looked to be midafternoon. The beach came right up to the house, and the ocean spread before her, stretching endlessly out of sight.

"It's beautiful," she said.

"It should be. It cost me enough."

He laughed harshly, and she wondered if he was talking about money or something else. She turned away from the view.