"I lied."
"But you—"
"So, sue me … or hit me."
She closed her eyes so tightly that colors exploded behind her lids. "I just pushed him, and he … he hit his head. Please, I need the ride," she whispered. Begging was distasteful to her, yet she knew she'd do anything to get to Sammi. "You can see what I'm up against. The Raineses have all the advantages. I don't have anything … including my car."
He released her unexpectedly, and Annie slowly turned to face him. "How in the hell could you assault a man?"
"I didn't. I told you, I just pushed him. He … he was drunk and…" She shrugged sharply. "He fell."
"Why does he want you back so badly?"
She shrugged, catching at a partial truth. "Trevor hates to lose. He gets what he wants, and he just happens to want me." She looked past him at the dark road. "Can we drive while we talk?"
She braced herself for more argument, but Quint surprised her when he turned and circled the car to the driver's side and got in. When he turned on the engine, Annie didn't wait for an invitation. She opened the door, scrambled in and, as the Corvette moved onto the road, she said a silent prayer of thanks that Quint hadn't tossed her out and driven away.
Quint eased the car up to sixty miles per hour, then settled back in his seat. "Why did you lie to me?" he asked abruptly.
"I didn't know you, and I didn't know if you knew the Raines family." That was the truth. "It just seemed easier if you weren't too involved. So I fudged a bit."
His snort of laughter held no humor. "What else did you 'fudge' about?"
She settled down in the seat and rested her head against the back. As long as the police hadn't mentioned Sammi, she felt as if she stood a chance. "I told you, I didn't want you to get too involved."
"That's a joke. I think I passed involved a long way back."
Quint drove in silence for a few minutes, the tension between them almost palpable.
Finally, Annie felt compelled to tell her side of things. "You asked who the woman in the photo really is. She's Anne Marie Thomas and she's from Taos, New Mexico. She was born in Arizona, moved around a lot and finally settled in Taos four years ago. She's been on her own since she was a teenager, and she worked as the manager of a small, elegant restaurant called The Place, for three years.
"She met Trevor Raines a few years ago and was momentarily dazzled by him. Then they lost touch. He came back into her life a couple of months ago. He asked her to come to Oklahoma to meet his family, then he asked her to marry him."
"You sound as if you're describing someone else's life," he said. His statement was close to the truth, especially now.
"It's mine," she said on a sigh. "My life in a nutshell."
"So, what did you overhear that made you assault this wonderful man?"
She gave him half of the truth. "I found out he didn't think marriage meant commitment."
"He was playing around?"
"Was, is, and always will," she muttered. She could feel Quint looking at her.
"I pushed him and he fell, that's all." She shifted in the seat. Now that the tension between them seemed to be easing a bit, a troubling thought came to her for the first time. "Are you married?"
"I told you how I feel about questions."
"It's a simple question. Are you married?"
"No."
"Ever married?"
"Not even close."
"One more question?"
He cast her a slanting look, then glanced back at the road. "Sure, go for it."
"What do you do for a living?"
"I'm not the son of wealthy parents, that's for sure. I've done a lot of things to make a living."
"Where are you from?"
"That's another question."
"I'm not good at math," she said.
"I was born in Florida but I left there when I was a kid. The last place I lived was back east."
"And you're going to…?"
"California."
"I've never been there," she said as she shifted lower in the seat.
"I was there years ago, out in Santa Barbara north of Los Angeles visiting my brother."
"Why go back?"
"It's a place to go."
She looked up at the starry sky skittering by overhead. "A place to go," she echoed, wondering if she and Sammi should head west to California. There were a lot of people there, a lot of places to get lost where the Raines family couldn't find her.
The sound of a distant siren cut through her thoughts and she bolted up, twisting to look behind them down the road. Her heart was pounding, but there were no lights in the night and the sound of the siren died out until there was just the rushing air and the sounds of the night.
"They aren't back there … yet," Quint said.
Annie sank back down in the seat and looked ahead of them. "But they will be. Trevor won't give up. He can't." She hugged her arms around herself and rubbed the flats of her hands on her upper arms.
"He's charging you with assault."
"That's what you said."
"What are you going to do if they catch up with you?"
"I won't let that happen," she said.
"But if it does?"
She shook her head. "I'll deal with it." That's what she'd always done, including having Sammi and caring for her. "How far can the next town be?" she breathed, then as if the answer came on cue, a sign was caught in the headlights of the car.
Quint didn't look at Annie as he slowed and read the sign by the road. Jarvis 41 miles. He knew that looking at Annie only made things more complicated, the way touching her did. "Forty-one miles to civilization," he said.
"If you can call it that," Annie said. "It's so deserted out here, it almost seems like another planet." Quint had felt that way since exiting the prison gates. Life went in a higher gear than he was used to, and it made him feel out of step. It was odd how his time with Annie could have almost been a delusion, a passing dream. Maybe he'd wake up and find himself in the four-man cell with the smell of human beings and disinfectant in the air.
Or maybe this was the first time reality had set in. He wasn't at all sure. When Annie shifted in the seat by him and the warm air was touched by that flowery scent he associated with her, reality hit him on every level. He'd had to fight himself to keep from holding on to her in the field, and now he had to fight the urge to look at her again.
* * *
Chapter 6
« ^ »
Quint barely covered a yawn and glanced at the clock. Midnight. He'd slept outside since he left prison, finding secluded places off the road and staying in the car with the top down. With the stars and moon overhead, he could breathe and relax, and he usually woke at first light. Today, he'd been driving since dawn, and weariness was beginning to take its toil.
"Do you want me to drive until we get to Jarvis?" Annie asked.
"No," he said immediately. Then he softened his rejection just a bit. "No one drives this car, but me."
"Is that another rule, no personal questions, no one driving the car?"
"I guess so."
"Any others?"
Not getting involved, he thought, and knew how irrevocably he'd shattered that rule with Annie. "I'm not sure."
"Well, I've got a rule about being in a car with someone who's going to fall asleep at the wheel."
Fields stretched out on both sides and as far ahead as he could see. "I'll find someplace to pull over," he said, "I only need a few hours of sleep, then we can go on to Jarvis."
"We don't need to stop," she said quickly. "That's not what I meant."
He could feel her restlessness at sitting still for very long. This assault charge had to have her more spooked than she'd admitted to him. And Trevor sounded like a man possessed. In a measure, he could understand it. If a man got involved with Annie, it wouldn't be easy to walk away. He was living proof of that.
"I need to stop," he said as the night began to blur in front of his eyes.
"But I can't—"
"I'm stopping. You're right that I'm not fit to drive much farther. There," he said, pointing in the dark shadows to trees clustered near the road to the right.
"We can't just stop by the road. What if the police—"
"No problem," he said as he slowed and eased the car onto the shoulder, then he carefully drove toward the trees. The rough ground bounced the suspension, but the field was actually fairly level. He drove to the side of the trees and saw that there was no way to drive into them. They were growing too tightly together, but it was clear on the back side, so he drove the car behind the trees and out of sight of the road.
He turned off the car and the night seemed to surround them. "They can't see us from the road, and it's quiet." He could feel Annie's nervousness. "Look, by now they know you left The Amigo in my car, and I think stopping where we can't be seen can be good. If they come this way looking for you, they'll go right on past. And if they don't come this way, you don't have a thing to worry about."
Quint adjusted his seat until it was comfortable, then he lay back. As he settled, he glanced at Annie. "Come on. Rest. You've got to be running on raw nerves. Take it easy, and we'll be on our way in a couple of hours."
He closed his eyes and tried to shut out the sensation of Annie's nearness. If he had a sleeping bag or bedroll he would have gotten out of the car and slept under the trees to put some distance between himself and Annie. But he didn't have that option. That thought almost brought a laugh. When had he had an option with this woman? Never. And that idea was as unsettling as her close presence.
Annie watched Quint and within minutes she could tell he was sound asleep. She envied him. She'd napped earlier while he drove, but right now sleep was elusive. She reached for the handle, eased the door open and quietly got out of the car. She walked toward the nearest tree and sank down on a patch of meadow grass.
She looked back at the car. It blended with the night, dark and sleek, a reflection of the man driving it. Turning from the sight, she pulled her legs up to her chest and hugged her arms around them. As she rested her chin on her bent knees, she thought about fate and how her life had been shaken up.
In twelve hours everything had changed. There was no marriage, no father for Sammi, no life that would be grounded and rooted for the child. Instead of being in her beat-up old car heading west, she was on the lam from the police, spending the night in a sleek black Corvette with a stranger who probably wanted to see the last of her as badly as she wanted to get to her daughter.
That thought brought back some of the tension and she looked back at the car. What if she fell asleep and Quint woke up and decided to leave her here? He'd wanted to see the end of her often enough. She wouldn't blame him if he took off, but she couldn't take that chance.
She scrambled to her feet, swiped at the clinging grass on her jeans, then went back to the car. As quietly as she could, she slipped into the passenger seat and shut the door. She wasn't going to make it easy for him to leave. She couldn't afford to.
She found the adjustment on the seat, eased it back and stretched out her legs, then looked toward Quint, his profile blurred in the darkness. When she finally closed her eyes, she tried to relax, but she couldn't shake the need to keep an eye open for trouble.
Gradually, though, Annie began to relax. Weariness seemed to invade her, and she slid into the softness of sleep. Her last waking thought was gratitude that she wasn't alone.
The dream came slowly out of the comforting nothingness and if she'd been awake, she would have fought against it. But in sleep anything could happen, and it did. She found herself drawn into a blurred world where all the sharp edges were gone, where pain and uncertainty hovered on the fringes, lost in the shadows.
Annie was in the car with Quint, driving through the night, slipping past the darkness together and heading for a nameless place where she knew they both belonged. It was ahead of her, rich with colors and newness, a place where she could turn to Quint, touch his face and know that he wanted her.
A place where he framed her face with his heat and strength, where no barriers existed. A place where his lips found hers, where his taste filled her and where his arms pulled her against him. A place of forgetfulness, a place where life was right.
Annie reached out, losing herself in Quint, in his scent, in his warmth, in his touch, and she knew a happiness that defied all reason. For one heartbeat, her life was perfect, then it shattered just as quickly as it had formed.
"Anne Marie!"
The sound of Trevor's voice cut through everything, and Annie saw him coming at her. When he was right in front of her, she saw that he wasn't alone. Sammi was with him, her green eyes filled with tears, her blond hair framing a pale face. "Mommy!" she sobbed. "Mommy, Mommy!"
Annie reached for her, but her hand closed on nothingness, and Trevor laughed, a horribly obscene sound. "Get out of here, Anne Marie," he said. "Just leave. I've got what I want."
"No, please, no," Annie begged as she lunged toward Trevor. But he was fading away, taking Sammi with him. All Annie could see in the blackness was her daughter's face filled with fear and she could hear Trevor's laughter.
"No! Sammi!" she screamed.
Quint had been yanked awake by screams in the night more times than he wanted to remember. But this time it wasn't some inmate having nightmares or a man ready to cause trouble. This time it was a woman, the words cutting through the night, and in a single heartbeat, he knew it was Annie.
Her scream echoed in him. "No! Sammi, no!" and Quint was instantly awake. He sat up, twisted and saw Annie in the seat by him, her hands reaching out in front of her. But her eyes were closed and her face was twisted with distress and streaked with tears. He reached out to her.
In less than a heartbeat, he had her in his arms. "No, no," she moaned and pressed her face into his shirt, her hands caught between their bodies against his chest.
He held her as closely as he could with the low console between them, and he stroked her silky hair. "It's all right. It's me, Quint. You were dreaming."
She slowly shook her head, rubbing her forehead back and forth on his chest. "A dream," she sobbed in relief. "It was only a dream."
"Yes, just a dream," he whispered, his fingers tangling in her hair as he closed his eyes. Her fear was a living thing, with an intensity that was almost painful for him to witness. "It's over."
She was very still, then slowly she moved back enough for him to look down into her tear-stained face. When he met the full impact of her gaze in the pale moonlight, he knew how horribly unaltruistic his actions were. He'd wanted to hold her from the first, he'd wanted to feel her close, to have her heat and sweetness right here. When her tongue darted out to touch her softly parted lips, he knew what else he wanted. And wanted desperately.
Slowly he lowered his head to hers, and when his lips found hers, emotions that felt as if they had been in their own prison exploded into freedom. He tasted the saltiness of tears as her lips parted. And Quint gave in to every need that bombarded him. All that mattered was the reality of this woman and a hunger in him that had a life of its own.
He could feel her straining toward him, her breasts crushing against his chest as her arms slipped around his waist. Her essence seemed to permeate him, gliding into his being, filtering into his soul. When she worked her hands under his shirt, he groaned at the skin-on-skin contact, and he needed to touch her as well as feel her touch.
He fumbled with her shirt, somehow working her buttons open, and the cotton slipped off her shoulders. He tasted the heat of her throat, the softness of her hair brushing his face, and his hands skimmed over her naked shoulders. His body tightened, and the aching need for her grew with breathtaking speed.
He moved his hand lower and the covering of an ornate bra was the only barrier left. As he tasted her, searching her mouth, running his tongue over her teeth, he found a row of buttons at the back of the bra that ran down to her waist. The tiny silk
-covered fasteners felt as if they had fabric loops around them, and his fingers were awkward in his haste to banish all barriers between them.
He felt her move, shifting back enough to look at him, and he couldn't take his eyes off her. Her moon-shadowed eyes were heavy with desire that echoed in him. The cotton of her shirt had fallen off her shoulders, and the lace-and-satin bodice provocatively contained her breasts. Yet it revealed enough of the swelling softness above the lace to seductively tantalize every nerve ending in him. He touched her with the tips of his fingers, tracing the swelling of her breast and feeling the beating of her heart. The ache grew in him, the agony of wanting her with a surety that almost took his breath away.
"Quint," she breathed, his name on the softness of the warm night stark contrast to the scream of fear before.
As his finger dipped to the cleavage, to tuck under the lacy cover, he suddenly remembered her scream that had torn him from sleep. His finger stilled. No, Sammy, no.
It wrenched at him when he realized she'd been screaming for a man, and not her ex-fiancé. A chill began to rob him of the fire, and he drew back. She was running away from one man to another, and he'd let himself get caught in the middle.
Even the sight of her softness, her parted lips, her hands on him, wasn't enough for him to forget. And he wished it was. He wished he could block out her cries, pretend they'd never happened. But he couldn't.
He drew back from her, exhaling a shaky breath, then he gripped the steering wheel with both hands. The leather was a poor substitute for the feel of her, but it kept him centered. "Bad dreams cause stupid reactions," he muttered.
"Quint?" she whispered, but he didn't look at her.
"Tell me something?" he said, staring at the dark hulk of the spreading trees near the car.
"What?"
"What was your dream about?"
He heard her take a shuddering breath. "I … it's nerves, all this trouble … I…"
He didn't look at her again. Instead, he turned the key and started the car. "It's almost four o'clock. Dawn's going to be here in a few hours, and it's time to get out of here and head for Jarvis." And time to bring this madness to a screeching halt.
THE BRIDE WORE BLUE JEANS Page 7
