Her throat went dry. “All right.”
Al stoked the fire, then laid the saddles on the ground to use as pillows. He put them very close together, she noticed. Then he picked up his long coat. Stretching out on the ground, he pulled the coat over him, then held one side up and looked at her. “Come, Mary Catherine. You know you’ve nothing to fear.”
“I know,” she said, maybe a tad defensively. “I’m not afraid.” Or if she was, it wasn’t for the reasons he was thinking. Lying so close to him all night long—and not touching him—was going to be a challenge. It wasn’t Al she was worried about, it was herself. Did women come on to men in his time? What would he think of her if she—
What was she thinking? He was the one obsessed with sex, not her. And since he’d vowed not to touch her until his role as protector was fulfilled, she didn’t have a thing to worry about.
Did she?
“Mary Catherine?”
His brows were arched as he lay there waiting for her, looking like a centerfold—except that he had his clothes on. M. C. sighed and went to him, slid underneath the coat, and laid her head on the saddle.
“Good night, my lady. Sleep well.”
“ ‘Night, Al,” she said, but she didn’t think she was going to sleep.
She did. Must have, because when she woke up, her head was no longer pillowed by the saddle, but by something far warmer, soft and firm at the same time, and with a much nicer smell.
She opened her eyes to the brilliance of dawn, and realized what it was. Al’s chest. And his arms were wrapped around her, one hand buried in her hair. One of her legs had decided to rest atop both of his, and her arms were twined around his waist.
He smelled good. God, he did, and he was so warm and hard underneath her. She lifted her head, wondering if she could slip away before he woke. But when she looked at his eyes, she found them open, staring into hers, a fire burning in their depths.
“Mon Dieu,” he whispered. “You are...so beautiful.”
His lips were only inches from hers, and pulling her closer, like magnets. Drawing her. She didn’t fight it. She let her mouth be tugged to his until their lips touched. And then Al’s arms tightened around her, and he kissed her. His mouth pushed at hers until she opened to him, then his tongue slid inside to lick and caress. She’d never known her mouth could be such an erogenous zone. She’d never been kissed like this. Tenderness and passion at once. She wanted him. It hit her like a bullet between the eyes. She wanted to make love to this man. Here. Now.
She was practically on top of him now, and as he continued kissing her, she moved the rest of the way. Her legs straddled his, and she felt his arousal pressing hard between them. But then his hands came to her shoulders, and gently, he lifted her away.
“Never,” he whispered, “has temptation been so difficult to resist.”
“For me, either.” She leaned forward to kiss him again, but he held her away.
“Yet resist I must.” He closed his eyes, as if in pain. “But if desire can kill a man, I’ll not live much longer.”
“Al, don’t...”
“We mustn’t. It was my vow, long ago—the code by which I’ve lived. I am your protector until you are safe. And only that.”
M. C. went stiff, staring down at him in disbelief. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”
“If I make love to you now, Mary Catherine, my thoughts will be of nothing else for days to come. I will be distracted, even weakened by a desire this fierce, the memory of a pleasure sweeter than any I’ve known. No...I cannot.”
M. C. rolled off him and got to her feet. “Fine. That’s just fine with me, Al. I didn’t want to anyway!”
“I have hurt you.” He rose and came to stand behind her, his hands massaging her shoulders. “Make no mistake, ma chérie, were it not for my vow, for honor’s sake, I—”
“Oh, to hell with you and your damned honor.”
She pulled away, busied herself dousing the dwindling fire, scooping dirt over the coals.
“You do not mean that.”
“Let’s just get out of here, okay? Let’s just find a phone, call the D.A., and set up the appointment.”
He stood where he was. “This is as difficult for me as for you, Mary Catherine.”
She ignored him, embarrassed, downright stung by his rejection. “We’ll have to find a car. Can’t use Aunt Kate’s even if no one’s found it by now. The cops have probably called her by now—they’d have traced the plate number and—”
Mary Catherine stopped talking and bit her lip. “Oh my God.”
Al was beside her in a second, his hands gripping her shoulders again. “What it is?”
“The license plate. Oh, God, why didn’t I think of this last night? Al, Guido saw that plate. He can probably track down the car’s owner as easily as the police can!”
“Your aunt?” he asked, looking worried.
“She could be in danger. We have to call her, Al, tell her to get out of the house and lay low for a while.” She looked into his eyes, shook her head as a ball of dread formed in the pit of her stomach. “And we’d better do it fast.”
*
The woman was a bundle of contradictions. First she denied wanting him, a habit which had begun to make him doubt himself for the first time in recent memory. Then she’d made it all too clear that she did want him. And then she’d become angry, unable, or perhaps—as stubborn as she was—unwilling to understand his reasons. But all of that had fallen by the wayside when she’d realized she might have inadvertently put her aunt in danger.
As they rode side by side, he watched her. The way her eyes took on such intensity when she was worried. The way the wind tossed her dark hair and the morning sun made it gleam.
He’d wanted many women, had most of them. But never had he felt anything like what he was feeling now. It wasn’t just stronger, it was different. An entirely new brand of desire he’d never felt before. And it left him with the odd sense that everything he’d experienced before had been only a faint foreshadowing of this...this new and powerful feeling.
Would it fade once they’d given in to its demand and made love together? That was the way it usually worked for Alexandre. But he had a feeling it wouldn’t be the same this time. Nothing seemed the same this time.
When they finally arrived back at the farm, the farmer greeted them with a smile and a wave from his front porch. Mary Catherine was off her mount almost before it came to a stop, and heading up the steps. “Please,” she said breathlessly, “I need to use your phone. I’ll pay you for the call, but—”
“Sure, sure. Come on inside. So how was your ride? The horses look none the worse for wear.”
Mary Catherine didn’t answer, just hurried past him and into the house. Alexandre watched as the farmer leaned through the door and pointed, then turned to face him again, grinning expectantly.
Alexandre dismounted and took another gold coin from his pocket, handing it to the man.
“Thank you kindly,” the older man said, smiling.
Al nodded and turned to remove the saddles.
“Oh, now, don’t you bother with that.”
“The animals are hot,” Al said. “They need to be rubbed down.”
“And Tony will take care of it,” the farmer insisted. Then he cupped his hands and yelled, and a young man emerged from the barn. As he hurried across the lawn toward the house, the farmer said, “See, I took them coins you gave me yesterday into town this morning and had ‘em appraised. When I found out what they were worth, I figured I could afford to hire me a hand around here.”
Alexandre frowned. Perhaps Mary Catherine had been right about the coins’ value.
Tony arrived, looked at the horses, then at the farmer. “These are the ones? When’s the last time they were groomed, anyway?”
“Been a while,” the farmer said, chuckling. “Tony here is real experienced with horses. He’ll have ‘em in tip-top shape in no time.”
Alexandre saw the w
ay the boy’s hands were already moving over the animals’ coats. It was obvious he not only knew about horses, but cared about them. At least one good thing had come of his visit here.
Then the bang of the door drew his gaze, and he saw Mary Catherine standing there, looking pale and wide-eyed.
“What is it, chérie! Did you reach your aunt with the telephone device?”
She nodded, closed her eyes. “Guido de Rocci answered the phone.”
Alexandre shook his head, not certain he understood.
“He’s there, at her house, Al,” she went on. “He has her, and he won’t let her go unless we give him the tape.”
Chapter Nine
There was no time to find another car. M. C. backed Aunt Kate’s Buick out of the farmer’s dim, dusty barn without a thought about how many cops might spot it on the road. If she saw flashing lights behind her on the way, she would keep right on going.
“It will be all right,” Al said softly, touching her shoulder, drawing her gaze.
She glanced his way as she drove, saw the concern in his eyes. But not for Aunt Kate. His worry was for her, and for what she might be feeling right now. “How can you be so sure of that?” M. C. asked. “For all we know Aunt Kate could already be—”
“No.” Al said it firmly. “De Rocci isn’t stupid. He wants to trade your aunt for this tape. He cannot do that unless he keeps her alive.”
M. C. tried to keep her eyes on the road, tried to keep her speed to within ten miles an hour above the speed limit, though every instinct was to press the pedal to the floor. If she showed up with cops in tow, the whole thing could turn into a standoff, with her odd. eccentric aunt playing hostage. Aunt Kate would be in far less danger this way.
“What do you want to do when we get there?” Al asked softly.
She glanced at him again, surprised that he would ask. He was the expert in fighting here. But she was the expert on modern goons like de Rocci. “I don’t think we have a choice, Al. I’ll have to give him the tape.”
Al’s lips pursed.
“What?” she asked. “You think it’s the wrong decision, don’t you?”
“I think...you’re wrong about one thing. We do have a choice. And we have to make it carefully. Mary Catherine, do you really think de Rocci will let you or your aunt leave that house alive once he has the tape?”
M. C. sighed, grating her teeth. Al was right. He was so right. “No, he won’t. He can’t. We’d have him dead to rights on unlawful imprisonment, breaking and entering, maybe assault. And he has to know I can testify as to what I heard on that tape, even if the tape itself is long gone.”
“Then we cannot turn it over.”
“But Al, what else can we do? He’s there, and you can bet he’s not alone. He knows we’re coming, and he’ll be watching for us. How can we...?”
“There’s always a way, Mary Catherine. Trust me.”
She looked into Al’s eyes, and realized that she did trust him. She’d trust him with her life. When the hell had she decided to believe in him this much? But no matter, she had. And she nodded to tell him so.
“Good,” he said. “And let us not forget, your aunt Kate is not entirely without resources of her own.”
They left the car nearly a mile from the house, hidden behind a neighbor’s hedges on a side road. Then they walked. And not on the narrow lanes of the suburban-leaning-toward-rural town of Craven Falls, either. They crossed back lawns and vacant lots, skirting the edges of trees and bushes and woodlots where they could. And soon the gothic white elephant was in sight. Flat roof, widow’s walk in need of another coat of white paint, curlicues of wood trim everywhere. Tall, narrow windows, their curtains drawn tight like closed eyes, as if the house were sound asleep.
A parked car with two men inside sat opposite Aunt Kate’s driveway. A shadowy form lurked just beyond the back door. From their position behind some trees in the back lawn, they could glimpse him when he moved.
“They’ll have a man at the front door as well,” Al said. “What we need is another way inside. But first”—he glanced toward the car out front—“we should eliminate some of the contenders.”
“Even up the odds,” M. C. said. “Gotcha. I can take care of the ones in the car, Al. All I need is a roll of duct tape, a length of garden hose, and a pair of shears.” She glanced around. “I imagine I can find all of that in the toolshed.”
Taking her arm, he started toward the shed, but she shook her head at him. “No. Look, try to get a look inside, make sure Aunt Kate’s okay. I can handle this part alone.”
He frowned. “I think we should stay together, lady. It would be safer.”
“I’m a big girl, Al. And I’m worried about my aunt. Please, I’ll feel so much better knowing you’re close by, keeping an eye on her.”
Closing his eyes, he nodded once. “All right. I know you’re more than capable.” Then he closed his hand on her outer arms and drew her close to him. “Be careful, ma chérie.” And he kissed her, hard and fast.
She blinked, tried to catch her breath, gave her head a shake. “Don’t let them hurt her, Al. I’m counting on you.”
“You have my word as a Musketeer, Mary Catherine. No harm will come to your aunt.”
As soon as he said it, she knew it was true. Amazing how much faith she’d come to have in him. She looked at his face, dark eyes blazing into hers, one last time, then crouched low and made a dash to the toolshed. She didn’t pause, but yanked the door open and ducked inside. Then she peered back toward the house to see how Al was doing, and caught her breath.
He gave a hop, reaching overhead to catch hold of a tree limb. Then he swung back and forth, faster and faster, his body sailing higher into the air each time, and finally, on the biggest upswing yet, he just let go.
His momentum carried him higher, and he flipped in midair before catching hold of the edge of the flat, tar-coated roof. Carefully, he pulled himself up and crept toward the widow’s walk at the center.
M. C. couldn’t believe it. He could have broken his neck. Shivering, she glanced through the shed’s dusty window toward the guys in the car, but they hadn’t moved. Didn’t seem as if they’d noticed a thing amiss.
She flicked the lighter to see in the darkness and foraged for the tools she needed. It didn’t take long to find them. She let the lighter go out, pocketed the shears and the tape, and carried the length of hose in one hand. As an afterthought she pulled out her gun with the other. Just in case. Then she crept out of the shed and across the lawn, keeping low, using the hedges for cover. When she ran out of hedges, she dropped to the ground and crawled right up to the car, which the fools had left running. Hadn’t anyone ever told them how dangerous that could be? She ripped off some tape with her teeth, stuck the hose into the exhaust pipe, and wrapped it up tight. Then she took the other end of the hose with her as she wriggled on her back underneath the car. Right under the driver’s seat, she found the air vent, and she stuck the hose right there.
Then she shimmied out again and made her way to the backyard, all without once being seen.
She smiled to herself. She was good.
But Al was better.
When she looked up she saw a length of rope dangling from a hidden corner of the roof. He’d left her a way inside.
What a guy.
*
When she crept down the attic stairs, praying none would creak and give her away, she wished to heaven she knew where everyone was. She got to the second-floor hall and started down it on tiptoe, passing each closed bedroom door with her ears straining and her heart in her throat.
Then one opened just as she moved past, and she was pulled inside. A big hand covered her mouth, and the room was utterly dark. She struggled...but briefly. That wide chest behind her; that scent. She stilled, waiting. The hand left her mouth, and she whispered, “Al?”
“Oui, ma chérie. Who else?”
“Did you find them? Is my aunt all right?”
“She is fine. In t
he next bedroom. De Rocci is with her. As far as I can tell there are two others in the house, one at the front door, one at the back. It would be best if we could eliminate them at the same time.”
“That way neither has time to warn the other.”
“Or to warn de Rocci,” Al said. “The men in the car?”
“They’ll be sleeping by the time we get downstairs.”
She couldn’t see his frown, but knew it was there, all the same. “I’ll explain later. Trust me, Al, they’re not going to be a problem.”
“I do trust you,” he said. “It is odd, being in battle with a woman at my side. But even more strange to feel so certain she is equal to the task. You are...you are a special woman, Mary Catherine.”
“Glad you realize it,” she said. “Now let’s get this show on the road.”
“I’ll take the back door,” he told her. And she had no doubt he’d already checked the two men out, and decided the guy by the back door was bigger, or meaner, or more dangerous. Not that she minded.
“Let’s make it quick and quiet, okay?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Meet you at the bottom of the stairs.” Then she ducked out the door and headed down.
Al came behind her, and he squeezed her hand at the base of the stairs before they turned in opposite directions. M. C. drew her gun and crept into the living room. It was dim, but not all that dark, despite the fact that the lights were all out and the curtains drawn tight. She could see the guy fairly well. He was looking outside, expecting visitors from there, not from within. She crept closer, lifting her gun. She was almost right behind him when she heard a dull thud, a low grunt from the back of the house, followed by what had to be a body slumping to the floor. The goon heard it too, and spun. But she clocked him with the pistol butt before he came to a stop, and he sank to the floor like a limp noodle. M. C. pocketed the gun, yanked out the duct tape, and used it to tie him up. A little more over the mouth. Perfect.
She headed back to the stairway and met Al at the bottom. “Done?” he asked.
Three Witches and a Zombie Page 14
