Carrie's Protector. Rebecca York
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laugh. “I’m fine.”
“You were shot a little while ago. You were resting when I got ahold of Patrick.”
“I’ve been hurt before, a lot worse than this.”
“That scar on your chest.”
“Yes.”
“And you were in the hospital, right?”
“I said it was worse than this.” He eased away from her. “We need to get a couple of prepaid phones so we can use them and throw them away.”
“Okay.”
He gave Carrie a direct look. “You trust Patrick?”
“Of course!”
“Who else is at your house?”
She thought for a moment. “There’s Inez, our maid.”
“How long has she been with you?”
“Fifteen years.”
“Does she need money?”
“Everybody needs money.”
He nodded. “Who else could have heard you talking to your father about your plans to hide out?”
She felt as if she was being interrogated, but she knew he needed to know the answers. “There’s a gardening crew that comes by a couple of times a week. They could have been eavesdropping.”
“Anyone else?”
“Not on a regular basis.”
His eyes narrowed, and she could see he was considering contingencies. “I don’t want to leave you here, and I don’t want to take you to the store, but I think that sticking together is better at the moment.”
She nodded, assuming he was probably afraid she’d call Patrick if he left her.
He carried the cell phones to the bathroom and crushed them under his heel, then stuffed the pieces into his pocket.
She winced, thinking about the contacts and the pictures he’d just destroyed.
He glanced at her, apparently reading her expression. “You can get a new one later.”
“Right.”
“I’m going out first.” He opened the door and looked out, then crossed to the car and motioned for her to follow.
As she got in the car, she asked, “They couldn’t have found us here already, could they?”
“Probably not, but I didn’t think they would show up at the safe house before we got back there. It appears that this operation is bigger and better organized than we assumed initially.”
“Oh, great.”
Minutes after they’d entered the motel room, they were back on the road.
This time, Wyatt took the driver’s side. She wanted to protest that he should be resting, but she was pretty sure he wouldn’t pay any attention to the suggestion. Obviously he was the kind of man who wasn’t going to let a woman drive him unless he was incapacitated.
As he drove, he tossed away the pieces of the phones, then turned to her. “I have Patrick’s bio. He’s been with you for twenty-five years, right?”
“Yes.”
“And does he have any reasons to dislike your family?”
“Why would he? My father did everything for him. He treated him like a son, actually. He had a bedroom down the hall from me. He ate all his meals with us. My father sent him to the same private school I went to. He paid his tuition at Ohio State.”
“So he was a good student?”
“Yes.”
“Did he ever give your father any trouble?”
“You mean like rebelling?”
“Yes.”
“He and I did a couple of stupid things—like borrow my dad’s car when we were both fifteen.”
“What happened when your dad found out?”
“He didn’t. We covered for each other.”
“You like him?”
“He was as close to me as a brother.” Memories flooded her. “We hung out together, because Dad was usually busy. You could say he was the kind of father who didn’t have a lot of time for his kids, but I knew he loved me.”
“We were talking about Patrick, not your dad.”
“I was trying to explain why Patrick and I were so close.”
“And he loved Patrick?”
She hesitated. “That might be too strong a word. I know he’s fond of him. And he’s certainly come to rely on him.” Again she paused before continuing. “Patrick didn’t have to come back and work for Dad, but he did that on his own.”
“Okay.” Wyatt checked the rearview mirror. “What about your mother?”
“Dad never talks about her.”
“When’s the last time you saw her?”
She thought for a moment. “When I was maybe six. I went into her room, and she was packing.” The pain and confusion of that long-ago moment came zinging back to her again. “She said she loved me, but she needed to leave. She said she’d be back to see me, but she never came back.”
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