No One Knows Part 39

People like who, though?

Tyler? He'd rushed off to God knew where, clearing out to give her space to be with Chase. He wouldn't come around until after the weekend, she was sure.

Arlo? He'd come to pick up her, planning to take her to the police. Too late.

Daisy? Clinging to life in the hospital.

Tom? Worshipping at Daisy's shrine.

Linda wasn't expecting her back to work until next week.

Meghan would be worried, absolutely. Not right away, but if a day had passed, then yes, there was a chance she'd get concerned.

Her mind touched on Chase, and her heart constricted. Her breath came short, and she shut her eyes.

A wave of regret flowed through her. Her whole life had become the sum of its parts, and she was alone, surrounded by insanity, on a beach in North Carolina. But the police were supposedly watching. The TBI, too. If they were lucky, maybe they'd find her before she ended up dead on the beautiful white sand.

Josh shot her a look. Distract him.

It might be their only chance.

"How did you find us?" she asked.

Allen glanced at her briefly. "I put a tracker on you. In your running shoe. It was rather simple. You need to be more careful about locking your deadbolt."

Aubrey's first instinct was to take her shoes and throw them off the deck. She didn't, though. She only had the one pair. If they were going to get out of this alive, she might need them.

"How did you know he'd show up?"

"I didn't. But when I saw you in the hospital, I thought he just might. You are still a beautiful girl." He licked his lips, and she forced back a shudder.

Allen smiled, vulpine. "Enough of that. So, Hamilton, are you going to get me my money, or do I need to shoot you?"

"Hell no. I'm going to kill you, and then Aubrey and I are leaving."

He fired at Allen. Allen ducked and disappeared around the corner. Josh grabbed her arm and towed her toward the kitchen, firing over his shoulder as he went. "The deck," he whispered. "We can go off the deck, by the pool."

They ran for the deck, bent at the waist, hiding behind the kitchen island. The doors were open; they'd stormed into the kitchen after their fight and hadn't slid them shut.

Silence.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know," Josh answered. "You go first, I'll cover you. I won't let him hurt you, Aubrey."

Aubrey pulled up short. She smelled smoke. "What is that?"

"Shit," Josh declared. "He's going to try and burn us out. Come on, come on, come on, come on."

He pulled her out onto the deck, to the edge of the pool. There was a narrow circular staircase that led down to the beach. She started down the steps.

Shots rang out, splintering the water jug above her head. She froze on the stairs, clinging to the center pole. She couldn't see Allen, or anyone else; there were no clear lines of sight. Which meant he couldn't see her, either. It had been a lucky shot.

The smell of smoke was stronger now. Josh came down the stairs, gun swiveling left and right. The back of the house was on fire; she could feel the warmth of the flames.

"It's clear. Come on. Jump."

Instead of following the stairs down any farther, they dropped onto the sand. Josh went first; he turned to catch her fall.

As her feet touched the ground, a bullet caught Aubrey in the leg. She went down with a strangled cry, landed face-first in the sand, her heart doing triple time. The shot had come from nowhere. Josh scrambled across the ground, closer to her.

"Is it bad?"

Aubrey gave him a look of incredulity. The pain made her sick to her stomach. "He shot me."

Josh pulled off his shirt and held it to her leg. He had a knife in his pocket, which he used to rip open her jeans. Aubrey grunted in pain but bit her lip.

Josh was tending her leg frantically, repeating the words I'm sorry over and over and over.

The flames were getting closer now, embers sparking down their stairwell escape.

"We need to get out of here," Josh said. "The shot's not deep, it's just a graze. Can you put weight on it?" He grabbed Aubrey and helped her up. She set her foot in the sand. It hurt, but it wasn't unbearable. This was bad. She was going to slow them down.

They started to move, but Allen was suddenly on the stairs behind them, his weapon trained on them. He followed the steps to the beach.

"You little shit. How dare you try and run?"

Josh put himself between Allen and Aubrey. "It's over, Allen. I don't have your money. You've shot my wife. Leave now, and I won't kill you with my bare hands."

"You fucker, you shot me and left me for dead in that parking lot. You brought this on yourself, and on her. If you aren't going to repay me, then I might as well-"

The gun. Aubrey fingered the trigger of the gun in her waistband and took a deep breath. Despite her past, being around Tyler and his cronies, she'd never fired one before. She figured as long as she aimed for the middle of Allen's chest, that would work. It was their only chance. He and Josh were raising their arms, facing off, screaming at each other.

She whipped the gun out and pulled the trigger.

The recoil was shocking. She lost her balance and fell over backward, watched Allen turn her way, rage contorting his face. She'd missed.

Josh started to shoot. Aubrey's ears rang, and she ducked her head into her hands and squeezed her eyes shut.

Please, let it be over.

It wasn't. Allen grabbed Aubrey by the hair, wrenched her from the ground, and pulled her to her feet, putting her between him and Josh, the gun to her head. Josh stopped shooting immediately, raised his hands in surrender. His face twisted with fear, and finally, finally, she saw the man she used to know.

"Don't. Don't hurt her!"

Allen's vicious voice sounded in her ear. "Time to end this, Hamilton. Say good-bye to your pretty little wife."

Allen didn't see she still had the gun.

Aubrey shot him in the side, smoothly this time, ready for the kick. He jerked, twisted, screamed in pain. He let go of her hair, and she fired again, catching him in the neck.

Allen fell to the sand, blood leaking out onto the sugar-fine grains, staining them crimson.

She wanted to pull the trigger again and again, but she held her finger still and watched him struggle, spitting and groaning, his words coming out in a mumbling curse. He was the reason her world had fallen apart, and she was the one who'd taken him out of it.

She smiled at him, imitating his rictus grin. His eyes widened. He slumped down into the sand. He struggled for a moment, then went still.

She stared at his chest, waiting to see it rise. It didn't, and something inside her, the old Aubrey, the terrible girl she used to be, tainted and spoiled and bad, cheered.

Then Josh was at her side, taking the gun gently from her hand.

"Let's go," he said calmly. "We need to get out of here."

Allen's warm blood was spreading through the sand. It reached her toes and she could only think, I've just killed a man. Why don't I feel anything? I should feel something.

Josh wrapped his arms around her shaking body. "It's going to be okay, baby. I promise. It will all be okay. We're safe now."

"He's got someone else with him."

Josh shook his head. "He was lying. He's alone. There's no one here but us. And that's how it's going to be from now on. Us."

CHAPTER 68.

Aubrey shouldn't have been surprised by the glossy speedboat anchored by the house's dock, but she was. Continually surprised. Her husband was a thief. A common criminal. A murderer. A liar. He had changed. There was nothing good about him anymore.

A quote floated to her mind.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men.

God, wasn't that the truth.

Josh helped Aubrey into a life jacket. "Never gonna take a chance with you again," he said with a smile. "Okay?"

She nodded. She was anything but okay.

"Where are we going?"

He whispered in her ear, "Home, at least for a little bit. We need to get the insurance payout, and Winston. Then we can disappear. Don't worry. I'll protect you. I won't let anyone find out you killed Allen."

His assurances felt like threats.

"We killed Allen together."

"Yes, we did. Of course we did." He leaned down and kissed her, went to the wheel and started the engine. The boat roared to life with a throaty growl, and he maneuvered it out of its slip.

"It's all over," he said. "No one's chasing me anymore. We can live our lives, now."

"But your house . . ."

The house was fully engulfed in flames. Josh looked back at it once, and shrugged. "We'll build another one. Somewhere safe. Anywhere in the world. You get to choose."

Aubrey sat back against the seat, let her eyes close. They crashed through the waves, then hit the open sea, toward the mainland, where Josh let the motor roar. Spray hit her face.

"Why?" Aubrey finally asked. "Why did you lie to me? Why didn't you come back?"

Josh shook his head. "Oh, baby. I didn't have a choice."

It took a day to get back to Nashville. They docked the boat in Nags Head; Josh had a friend who had medical supplies, so they fixed up Aubrey's leg. Another friend of Josh's flew them back to Tennessee the next evening, the same man who'd piloted the plane down earlier.

Aubrey was amazed, and a little impressed-Josh had certainly cultivated a crop of people who could help him slip past the authorities when necessary. But the anger simmered, just below the surface, ready to strike. He'd had time to build himself a network of friends, but hadn't bothered to let her know he was alive.

They landed at a small, private airstrip in Manchester, Tennessee, an hour south of Nashville. A car was waiting for them. Josh drove them north toward the city, seemingly ignoring the fact that Aubrey wasn't partaking in his manic chatter. He had plans. Plans that would let them live happily ever after.

On the run. With all the lies hovering like ghosts between them.

"There it is," Josh said as Nashville's skyline appeared in front of them. It was just getting dark, and the lights of the city looked like circling fireflies. "Our town."

"I need to eat," she said, realizing she was getting dizzy. The pain in her leg was dull and throbbing.

Josh's expansive mood continued. "The world's your oyster. What are you interested in? Steak? Mexican? Italian? We could try Valentino's. Remember we always wanted to go there but couldn't afford it? We can afford it now, baby."

"That's . . . that's fine. Valentino's sounds good."

She didn't know how he could be so glib. Less than twenty-four hours earlier, she'd shot and killed a man. It didn't seem to have any effect on him. He was just so happy. So relieved. All the pressure was gone from his shoulders. His trial had ended. Hers was just beginning.

She gave herself a little shake. What was wrong with her? For five years, she'd begged, pleaded, bargained, prayed-anything that would bring him back to life. Her dreams had come true, and she just wanted some space. Some time to be alone. To think. To understand what she was feeling. Or not feeling.

To talk to Chase. To disappear.

Josh pulled up to the valet in front of the restaurant.

"We're not dressed," Aubrey murmured.

"It's Nashville. If the country stars can go to the five-star restaurants in jeans, so can we."

He swept out of the car and beat the valet to her door. He swung it open and reached for her hand. The matre d' gave them a look of derision when he heard they didn't have a reservation, but Josh slipped him some bills and he found them a table.

Josh ordered champagne for them, ostentatiously choosing a $420 bottle of Dom Perignon. She fingered her menu, deciding. He ordered for them both, antipasto, frutti di mare, vitello Marsala. He spoke Italian now, apparently. He winked at her as the waiter conversed with him like he was native-born. When the waiter glided away, Aubrey gave Josh a tremulous smile.

"I need to use the ladies' room."