Identity Crisis by Terry Odell

Author:Terry Odell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: new beginnings, endurance athletes, new identities, marathons, anti-technology, yoga, Colorado romantic suspense
Publisher: Terry Odell
Published: 2017-09-29T00:00:00+00:00

18

Holly dug her fingers into Brett’s thigh. An automatic reaction, his leg being the closest thing to latch onto when the sounds of someone coming downstairs sent her heart to her throat. Too loud for Jane. Dick? The mall thugs?

Aware of Brett removing her hand, she froze like a startled animal. He pressed his hand against her shoulder, pinning her to the couch. He rose, gun in hand. Her heart rode the free fall elevator to her stomach.

“It’s Dick.” A beam of light shone from the stairwell, bouncing with each footfall.

Brett lowered his gun, but didn’t put it in the holster. Why? She recognized Dick’s voice. Was Brett waiting for a prearranged secret password?

Or could someone else be with Dick? A not-so-nice someone. Holly stood in Tadasana, the yoga mountain position. Feet planted, weight evenly distributed. She was strong. Nothing could hurt her.

Okay, and Brett was between her and the stairwell.

“All clear.” Dick’s voice rang from the base of the stairs.

“Come here where we can see you,” Brett said.

Dick moved into the room, flashlight in his hand, aimed at the floor. His other hand was half-raised. His eyes darted to Brett’s gun, and a grin split his features. “Like to see you’re not the gullible sort. Should have come up with a safe word.”

Safe word. Secret password. Alternate universe.

Holly breathed for what felt like the first time in hours. Her mountain pose threatened to collapse into rag doll. “What happened? Did someone find us? Me?”

“Come on upstairs.” Dick motioned with his flashlight. “A lot more comfortable, and we can get everyone on the same page.”

Dick led the way to his duplex’s dining room, where Jane was laying out a bowl of fruit salad, a platter of cold cuts and cheese, and a loaf of bread.

Jane motioned them into the room. “Come in. Help yourselves. I’m sure you’re curious about all the secrecy. Let me fetch the final fixings, and we can talk.”

Holly’s stomach wasn’t ready to deal with food, but she put a small scoop of fruit salad on her plate and managed a weak smile. “Thanks.”

Jane popped into the kitchen and returned with a tray of condiments and a platter with sliced tomatoes, pickle spears, and lettuce leaves.

Dick, Jane, and Brett, Holly noted, seemed to have no problem filling their plates. Holly took a seat at the table and waited for the others to finish assembling sandwiches while she rearranged the pieces of fruit with her fork.

Dick took a healthy bite of his sandwich, chewed, swallowed, and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Here’s what we have.”

Holly set her fork beside her plate and gave Dick her full attention.

“We got an alert from Blackthorne,” Dick began, “telling us Kyle King was on a flight to Denver. It wasn’t clear whether he’d managed to squeeze this address out of his contacts, but in case he had, we agreed it would be prudent to have no evidence of your presence.”

“Did he show up?” Holly asked.

“No, but a couple of locals did,” Jane said.

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