Saving Love Read online

  “I doubt anyone thinks I’m dead, and I know my husband doesn’t want to put that in anyone’s head. He’d prefer the world see me as this rotten bitch who stole his kid.”

  “Who’s your husband?” Dakota asked.

  “Josh Brolin.”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Dakota dropped his hands to his sides. “The son of one of the most notorious criminals in the United States? You’re Amanda Brolin?”

  “In the flesh.”

  Chapter 5

  For some strange reason, Alabama felt as if the weight of the world had just been lifted from her shoulders. It was as if she said Josh’s name and a hundred pounds dropped off her body.

  “Fuck,” Dakota muttered as he entered the family room carrying a tray of food. “He’s a fucking monster.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that.” Just having one person know her true identity both horrified her and comforted her in ways she couldn’t describe, much less explain.

  Dakota set a plate with a grilled cheese sandwich on the coffee table before pouring two more glasses of wine. He settled back on the sofa while he munched on his snack and sipped his beverage.

  “You didn’t expect me to drop that big of a bomb now, did you?” Alabama said with a long sigh. She leaned back, resting her head on the back of the sofa, and stared at the ceiling. When she’d first met Josh, she had to admit his family name gave her pause, but his charm melted all that away in a matter of seconds. Besides, during their dating phase, Josh didn’t spend a lot of time with his father, or the family business.

  Or, at least that’s what she thought.

  During their engagement, she learned otherwise. Looking back, she saw all the signs, but she chose to ignore them.

  “No, I can’t say that I did,” he admitted. “I knew whoever you were hiding from had to be an asshole; I just never expected him to be a powerful asshole with government officials in his back pocket.”

  “Have you told your buddies yet?” she asked with a heavy dose of sarcasm. She knew he would, eventually, but she figured as soon as that happened, she’d need to be on the run again. But at least she knew she’d be able to get in contact with the underground since he knew Chauncey, and maybe, just maybe, Chauncey might be able to work some magic and get her and her son another new identity in a new city and state.

  Maybe they could move her out of the country.

  “Not yet and when the time comes, I’ll just be having a conversation with my boss Hank and maybe my buddy Clayton. He and his wife run a few charities for the homeless and for prostitutes, but they also do work with battered women and children. They will have a lot of connections and will also know how to make sure we keep your identity and whereabouts under wraps.”

  “I don’t like anyone knowing who I am,” she said.

  “I don’t plan on telling anyone who you are unless my boss thinks I should. Otherwise, they will help me navigate this without that knowledge. But it depends on a lot of things. One of them being Chauncey, if I ever hear back from him.”

  “When I got to him, he thought my name was Alice.”

  “Chauncy had to know who you were, or he wouldn’t have sent you to me.” Dakota chuckled. “In all the years I’ve known Chauncey, he’s never put anyone in my backyard. He didn’t send you here with the idea that no one would figure out that you were on the run. There are too many men and women working for the Brotherhood Protectors in this area. We’re a way too suspicious group. Chauncey sent you here on purpose.”

  “Then why didn’t he just call and tell you that?”

  “Because that could send up a red flag with anyone who might be looking for you, including the FBI.”

  “They think I kidnapped my own son,” she said softly.

  “Among other things.”

  “I don’t want to know.” She tossed her forearm over her eyes and groaned. “When my water broke, Josh went and smashed my car, put me in it, and called the first responders. He wanted everyone to believe I was in a car accident. No one believed him, but no one did anything because half the police department is terrified of him and his father.”

  “They are horrible people.” He tugged at her hand, forcing her to sit up. “I need you to walk me through what happened from the time you went underground—specifically, who knew your true identity.”

  “Why is that important?”

  “When did you first meet Chauncey?” he asked, avoiding her question. He’d answer that eventually.

  “A couple of months ago,” she said. “When I landed in San Diego.”

  “How long where you there?”

  “Just a couple of weeks. It was my last stop and really just to help me get out in the world.”

  “And that’s the problem.” Dakota took his wine glass, stood, and started to pace in front of the fireplace. “The way the underground works with a high-profile case such as yours is that each time they move you, they give you a burn identity. Each new group of volunteers you work with think that burn identity is actually your real identity. Your narrative stays the same, meaning if it was your husband who abused you and you ran off right after childbirth, that doesn’t change, but you were never Amanda Brolin, not since that first initial run. So, even Chauncey shouldn’t have known who you were.”

  “I understand that. When I flew to San Diego, it was in part to test the identity, but they had me go back to Albany, New York, and fly from there to make my story plausible, which was terrifying. I hated being so close to Manhattan.”

  “I can imagine,” he said. “But tell me, did you meet Chauncey right away, or did that happen right before you came here?”

  “I met him about three or four days before I got on the road, but that still doesn’t mean anything to me. I don’t understand where you are going with all this.”

  “Where did Chauncey tell you to go?”

  “He recommended this area over the places I was looking at in Wyoming. He showed me your rental, but it wasn’t the only one.

  “But did he push in that direction? Did he say anything about knowing the area? Or it being quiet and remote, and it would be easy for you to blend in living in that tiny house?”

  “Yeah. Actually, he did.” Alabama leaned forward and rubbed her temples. “Obviously, everyone at the hospital in Manhattan knew who I was even if you couldn’t tell by looking at me. It was the first time Josh had ever hit me in the face.” Her eyes burned from the tears flowing like a raging river. She couldn’t stop them if she tried. “I remember lying on the kitchen floor curled up in a little ball as he kicked and hit me, laughing at me, telling me the first thing our baby was going to see was how hideous his mother was.”

  “Fucking bastard,” Dakota muttered. He knelt in front of her and wrapped his strong, protective arms around her shaking body.

  “I should have gotten out sooner. Josh could have killed Wyoming.”

  “You can should have, could have all day long. The fact is, you did get out. You and Wyoming are safe.” He lifted her chin and tenderly wiped her tears away.

  She searched his gaze for that sign that said he was a bad man. For that hint of something that told her trusting him was a mistake.

  But all she saw was a kind soul.

  “I was able to leave Josh thanks to a nurse who, once she realized the police weren’t going to arrest my husband, or even slap his wrist, found a way to sneak me and my son out and sent me to a shelter in New Jersey.”

  “Anyone there know you?” He sat on the sofa next to her, pulling her head to his chest. His fingers glided through her hair, occasionally tickling the skin on her shoulders and arms.

  “The nurse had a friend who worked there. I spent two nights there while she got me a fake ID and sent me underground in Pennsylvania. I stayed Alice for a couple of months, and I went from one shelter to the next until I was then moved to Virginia where I worked in a soup kitchen with a new identity. It went on like that until I ended up in San Diego.”

  “So, to yo
ur knowledge, the only people who knew your real identity was the nurse and the person in New Jersey?”

  “After New Jersey and until now, I’ve never uttered my real name,” she said. “However, when I landed in San Diego, the plan had been for me to head to Wyoming, but Chauncey also talked me out of that plan. He said my kid’s name would draw attention to us, and he really thought I’d have better luck finding a job here.” She brushed her hair from her face and stiffened her spine. That was enough crying on her boss’ shoulder for one day.

  “When did Chauncey recommend the change?”

  “The morning I left,” she admitted.

  “I think Chauncey either knew there was a breakdown in privacy and someone in the underground was talking. Or he just knew who you were and was being super cautious, knowing that I would see the signs and would do whatever I could to protect you.”

  “He said I would never see or hear from him again under any circumstance.”

  “Well, he lied because we do have a way of contacting him. The question is do we want to do that right now when there is absolutely no reason to believe you are in danger of any kind.”

  “Except for Candice and her boyfriend.”

  “Normally, I wouldn’t believe in coincidences, but I don’t see a connection. That said, my team is working to make sure there is no way Candice, Chad, or his family has any dealings with your husband or knows anyone in the underground.”

  “I overheard your friend Clayton and Viper talking about Chad and his family. While I’ve never heard the name Hooker in any of Josh’s dealings, it doesn’t mean that Josh’s family dealings didn’t stretch this far. He now owns nightclubs in Vegas and property in Lake Tahoe.” It always amazed Alabama how many people she’d met while married to Josh who enjoyed bending and breaking the laws in the name of getting ahead. Of course, Josh kept her from most of the family business dealings, but the longer she stayed married, the more she realized Josh and his family were nothing more than gangsters.

  “The Brotherhood Protectors have worked cases in the past involving members of your husband’s organization.” Dakota pinched the bridge of his nose. “Specifically, we were hired a couple of years ago to protect Leslie Witcher.”

  Alabama gasped. Her heart pounded in her chest. Leslie had been her friend. Her confidant. And then one day, she vanished, only to show up months later with enough evidence to take down her own husband and three other people inside the Brolin organization.

  They had tried to find incriminating evidence on Josh and his father, but they failed. Before the trial, Leslie’s husband was found murdered, and three months later, Leslie was found dead in a hotel room.

  The headline read: After falsely accusing a half dozen people of espionage, Leslie Witcher commits suicide.

  “Leslie was my friend.” Sucking in a deep breath, she leaned over and lifted the wine glass to her lips. She took a good whiff before letting the bold liquid slide down her throat. “She told me she was going to turn her husband in to the Feds. She said she had evidence that proved he was selling intel to foreign governments. I thought she was crazy, and I told her it would get her killed. She said she knew someone who could protect her.”

  “Shamus,” Dakota said. “Leslie knew his wife from college. Shamus set up the entire protection detail, and we all helped gather the intel, but her husband has a fortress built around him. So does yours. No one could find the connection to the foreign governments, but the DEA had enough on him for drug trafficking. They had to act on Hamlin, and Leslie agreed. So, we turned her, and all the evidence she had and that we collected, over to them. It’s not one of our more shining moments as an organization, but we did everything we could.”

  “She didn’t commit suicide. I don’t care what the medical examiner stated.”

  “We’ve always believed she was murdered, and we are still looking into it. My boss doesn’t let these things go, and frankly, neither do any of his employees. We take it personally.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel better. How can I be sure I’m safe here if that happened on your watch?”

  “For the record, my company wasn’t protecting her during the trial. That was the FBI and the DEA. But you’re right, we did fail her. We should have done more.”

  “Everyone failed her, including me.”

  “No. You didn’t. Until recently, you haven’t been in a position to do anything but survive, and you were barely doing that.

  “I’m still too scared to do anything.”

  “Right now, the only thing you need to concern yourself with is protecting yourself and your son, which I can help you with. Let the cops deal with Josh, and let me keep on an eye on that for you.”

  “My husband has so many lawyers, government officials, cops, and federal agents in his back pocket, no one can touch him. His father and grandfather built a huge protective wall around them starting when his father changed his name from Gorgivani to Brolin, which was his grandmother’s maiden name.”

  “His father did legitimize many businesses, and for a decade, he had the world snowed that his family turned over a new leaf,” Dakota said. “But that quickly changed when your husband started running things and started showing his true colors, but the Feds haven’t been able to gather anything of substance to arrest him on.”

  “I’m very aware of that.” She rubbed the side of her stomach, remembering the head blow and how she prayed her husband’s pointed expensive shoes didn’t kill her unborn child. Every time he kicked her, he’d laugh and tell her how many things he’d gotten away with.

  The money laundering.

  The corporate espionage.

  The selling of technology to foreign countries.

  The killing of her only friend.

  Her husband’s business wasn’t typical mafia. Not in the terms of what you saw in the movies. But shakedowns did happen.

  And so did murders.

  Her husband would do whatever it took to get what he wanted. He had no control, something his late father used to tell him would end up being his demise.

  Thus far, his father had been wrong.

  “You’re a smart woman. What can you tell me about your husband’s business dealings? You had to have seen something. Know something.”

  Shame and rage twisted her gut. She should know more than she did, but she was too busy letting herself die one punch at a time. Instead of being a whole person, she buried her head in the sand. “I know he was a bad man. I know he stole from his own companies. I know he stole from other companies and sold to terrorists. I just can’t prove any of it.” With as much dignity as she could muster, she stood. “I’m not as smart as you think I am; otherwise, I would have never ended up with such a monster.”

  “Alabama, wait.” Dakota raced through the house toward the in-law apartment. “I didn’t mean it like that.” How could he have been so stupid as to imply that her intelligence should have gained her some insight into her husband’s criminal dealings when her entire marriage had been about her survival.

  “Yes, you did.” She paused at the doorway and glanced over her shoulder. “But being smart doesn’t mean you’re immune to being taken advantage of.”

  “I know that. The words I used and the way in which I said them didn’t come out right. What I meant was that you might not realize that you know something. If we talk things through, we might uncover some important facts.”

  “My world was very small while I was married to Josh. I had no friends, and he controlled everything I did. When I finally left, I had no idea what to do, or how to do it. The underground had to teach me how to even balance a checkbook. For a woman with a four-year degree, I was totally clueless.”

  “Not totally,” he said. “That’s what he wanted you to think, but it wasn’t true.”

  “But it felt that way. Even after I left. For months, I stayed away from watching the news. I didn’t want to know what anyone was saying about me, or Josh.”

  “I’m sure they told you to ignore
your old life and not do things like Google yourself.”

  She nodded. “But it’s sometimes impossible not to see it, and about six months ago, I was sitting in a children’s clinic. Wyoming had an ear infection. The news came on, and a picture of me flashed across the screen.” She reached up and ran a finger through her long blond hair, which he just realized wasn’t her natural color.

  Not even close.

  “Then I saw Josh, and the first thing out of his mouth was how worried he was about his mentally ill wife who kidnapped their newborn son. At that moment, the nurse called us in, and I didn’t see any more.”

  “That’s probably—”

  She raised her hand. “I don’t care what he says about me, as long as my son never has to hear the those lies, and I’m starting to wonder if that will ever be possible.”

  “I promise you that I will do whatever it takes to keep you and Wyoming safe from that asshole.”

  “You can’t make that promise.” Her thick lashes blinked over her soft ocean-blue eyes.

  “Alabama, you have to trust me. This isn’t my first rodeo when it comes to helping battered women.”

  She let out a soft chuckle. “I don’t trust any man.”

  “You know I’m not like him. Most men aren’t like him.”

  “Actually, I don’t know that,” she said, lifting her chin. “You’re a very charismatic person. So was Josh. He found my weakness and exploited it. You seem to be finding ways to break down the walls I so carefully constructed, but I obviously didn’t use enough grout to keep the tile together.”

  Dakota wanted to take her into his arms, but he knew right now that would cause her to pull away even more. “I can understand why you’re being so guarded.”

  “I don’t think you do,” she said. “The day I left San Diego was the first day in almost a year that no one was telling me what to do or where to go. My life was in my hands, or so I thought. But now I find out this Chauncey guy might have sent me here on purpose and you moved me into your house.”