Come with me to Philadelphia

Bella sat on the soft, leaf-covered ground and leaned back against a tree stump. The cabin walls had closed in on her, and without a car, her only other escape was the forest.

She had to leave. Her plans had foiled, no caps about that.

With a sigh she closed her eyes and rested her head back against the tree stump.

The late-morning air was warm, but not unbearable as it had been earlier in the week. The scent of dried leaves and pine surrounded her, carried on the soft breeze that lifted the ends of her hair.

Camilla wasn't picking up, so she considered, maybe asking the honeymoon couple or the father and son to give her a lift into town where she could wait until her car was repaired, then drive to the airport and take the first plane out.

Walk back to Philadelphia would be easier than dealing with Miguel.

But Bella knew she couldn’t leave, any more than she could give up. Margaret was too important to her.

After what she'd done to Miguel by leaving him and making him a prey, Bella wanted to at least bring him to his mother and she wouldn’t leave until every last card was played.

She’d hit a button with him last night. She’d gotten too close to the truth when she’d told him he was afraid he might come to care for Margaret. That’s why he’d lashed out at her as he had.

But she figured that she deserved every yell. A wife that escaped to save her head and left her husband to the hands of the enemy.... It took a lot of the sting out of the insult he’d tossed at her, but she’d be lying to say it didn’t still hurt.

But she would be angry with him. She’d like nothing better than to shove him over a cliff. But maybe just a short one, instead of the deep canyon she’d visualized last night.

And it made her all the more angry that even after what he’d said to her, she still wanted his mouth on her mouth, still wanted his hands on her body.

Damn you, Miguel Rodriguez.

“There you are.”

Her eyes flew open at the deep sound of his voice so close to her. The man was quiet as a mouse—no, make that a snake, she amended. And how had he found her, anyway?

She felt a small amount of satisfaction that he looked ragged around the edges. His hair hadn’t been combed, his jeans and red flannel shirt were wrinkled, his eyes were bloodshot, and he hadn’t shaved.

And he still looked sexy as hell, blast it.

But strangely enough, he also looked angry.

“Where have you been?”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“It was a simple question.” Jamming his hands on his hips, he marched toward her. “Where have you been?”

Obviously at Area 51, she thought in amazement. What else could explain his bizarre behavior? “I fail to see how where I am or where I’ve been is any business of yours.”

“You’ve been gone for hours.” Frowning, he stood over her. “People get lost up here if they don’t stay on the paths. They didn’t find one guy named Wallace Walker for six months. All that was left of him were bones and a pair of sunglasses.”

“Interesting image.” If he was trying to scare her, it was working. “And how would you know I’ve been gone for hours?”

"You left for five years, remember? So how wouldn't I know when you disappear?" He smirked. "However, the mechanic has been trying to reach you And we need to talk"

She ignored his hand. “Why has the mechanic been trying to reach me? Is my car ready? Oh, no.” She closed her eyes and moaned. “Please don’t tell me it’s not ready. It’s not, is it? Damn! I can’t—”

“Bella—”

“—be without a car—”

“Bella—”

“—until next week, I’ve got to-“Bella!”

He wrapped his hands around her shoulders and lifted her to her feet. Startled into silence, she stared at him. “What?”

“Somebody messed with your car.”

“Messed with my car? You mean it was vandalized at the mechanic’s shop?”

“Before you had it towed to the mechanic’s. He found evidence that your rear brakes were tampered with. That’s why they failed.”

It took a long moment for his words to sink in, and still she didn’t understand. Maybe she had hit him over the head too hard last night. She frowned, then laughed. “That’s ridiculous.”

“No more ridiculous than someone trying to break into your cabin last night.”

“You don’t know that.” Now he was really stretching it. “That could have been an animal.”

He let go of her arms, then reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a safety pin. “I found this on your porch this morning.”

She looked at the safety pin, then cocked an eyebrow at him. “And your point is what? That all burglars are prepared for emergency clothing repairs?”

“The end is sanded smooth, which makes it a tool for picking locks.” He slipped it back into his pocket. “I also found fresh bootprints that didn’t belong to you or me.”

The breeze picked up, scattering leaves at their feet. A slow chill slithered up her spine. “You’re making this up to scare me off, Miguel!"

He shook his head. “You can call the mechanic and ask him yourself if you don’t believe me.”

She didn’t believe this, not any of it. It was insane. But she had locked her door last night, she was certain of it, and it had been unlocked when Miguel came in.

“What are you saying? That someone wants to hurt me? No one knows me as Bella Trump with this face!" Her eyes widened suddenly as she stared at him. She put a hand to her throat, took a step backward.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Bella—” he rolled his eyes “—will you listen to me?.”

She released the breath she’d been holding, felt silly that she’d considered the possibility. “Well, you gotta admit. You might want to take your revenge now by playing these little tricks"

“Blondie, as far as I’m concerned,” he said dryly, “you haven’t even come close to seeing mad, but you’ve definitely pushed the wrong button on someone.”

She thought about the cliff her car had almost gone over, the prowler at her cabin. That was one hell of a big button. But it just wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.

“I don’t believe it.” She shook her head. “This is Valerie Jarrett Why would anyone here go to such extremes to harm me? I'm no longer Bella Trump!"

*Maybe it isn’t anyone from her or that knew you as Bella.” He stared at her thoughtfully. “Didn’t you tell me it was your job to uncover insurance and company fraud? You said you were good at it. I have to assume you have an inventory of unhappy victims.”

She did, of course, though the people she’d exposed didn’t know who she was. But if someone found out—she felt her pulse skip at the thought—well, they wouldn’t exactly be inviting her over for Thanksgiving dinner.

Still, it was just too far out-there.

“It doesn’t make sense.” She blew out a breath and dragged a hand through her hair. “Why would someone go to the extra expense and trouble to follow me all the way up here? Why wouldn’t they just go after me in Philadelphia?”

“Maybe because there’d be less of a connection,” Miguel suggested. “Especially if you lost control of your car and ended up at the bottom of a canyon. It would just look like an accident.”

“Breaking into my cabin wouldn’t look like an accident,” she insisted. “The authorities would know it was intentional.”

“You’re leaving in two days. Maybe they’re getting desperate and don’t care. There’d be no witnesses, and if there were no clues, there’d be nothing to trace back.”

She couldn’t believe she was standing here, analyzing how and why someone might kill her. When a twig broke in the brush behind them, she flew into Miguel’s arms.

A squirrel ran out of the brush, sat up and twitched its tail at them before darting off again. She let out a long, slow breath.

Embarrassed at her skittishness, Bella forced a soft laugh and placed her palms on Miguel’s chest to push away.

He tugged her back.

She could feel the heat of his body through his clothes, it poured into her, seeped into her blood. Her knees felt weak, her skin felt hot and tight.

How could this be happening? One minute they were discussing someone’s plot to murder her, and in the blink of an eye, she was melting in his arms.

“Bella,” he said her name softly.

“Hmm?” She stared at her hands on his chest. His flannel shirt felt soft under her fingers.

“I was out of line last night. I shouldn’t have said what I said.” He drew in a deep breath. “Maybe you were right, just a little. Maybe I don’t like the idea of having the responsibility of a family.”

Surprised not only at his apology, but at his admission she might be right, she looked up at him.

“Come to Philadelphia with me, Miguel,” she said quietly. “Just meet Margaret, that’s all. No strings attached, no guilt if you decide not to see her again.”

He shook his head slowly. “I can’t go to Philadelphia.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both.” He reached up
and snagged a leaf from her hair, then softly stroked it over her jaw. She cursed the involuntary shudder that vibrated through her body.