Annie sank into the warm leather, a strange shakiness deep inside her. To respond to a man like that, to a man she barely knew, was frightening. She wrapped her arms around herself and lifted her face, letting the warm air brush her skin. What had happened with Quint went beyond a mere response. She knew that if he hadn't drawn back, she wouldn't have stopped herself.
She bit her lip hard. The idea that she hadn't wanted their embraces to stop was stark and painful. Was she crazy? She'd made such mistakes because of being impulsive, and this was certainly impulsive. Or was she that needy? Did she have to have someone there for her? She never would have thought that answer could be yes before … until now.
She didn't need anyone else. She couldn't. There had to be just her and Sammi now.
"A question?" Quint said, his voice rough in the night.
She didn't look at him, not when just the sound of his voice could set her nerves on edge. "What?"
"Why were you going to marry Raines?"
She rested her head against the seat back and closed her eyes. "I thought I should," she said with real honesty.
"Thought you should?"
She knew that sounded odd, but she wasn't about to tell him about Sammi. The man could barely deal with the police and Trevor coming after her. "I mean, it seemed right. I told you we knew each other a few years ago, then he came back and he said that he loved me, that he wanted to get married." She could barely say the words, words that had been a blatant lie. "I came out to meet his family, and he asked me again."
"And you agreed?"
"Yes."
"I don't suppose it hurt that his family has tons of money."
She heard the edge in his voice and it hurt. "I didn't know that, not until I got here."
"And that's when you said yes to his proposal."
"Listen, it's not—"
"As if you were passionately in love?" he cut her off.
"What?" she asked, turning to look at him and wishing she hadn't.
The moonlight touched the planes and angles of his face, and the sight of him took her breath away.
"Love, passion. Obviously you didn't delude yourself to that extent."
She didn't know why his words stung so much. "How can you say that?"
"You don't deck someone you love. Then you walked out … or at least, ran out, didn't you?"
She wished she could say that wasn't the way it had been with Trevor, but she knew it came very close to the truth. But she wanted everything for Sammi, not herself. "I left. Period."
"He was playing around?"
She took an unsteady breath. "That was part of it."
"What else is there?"
Another part of truth came from her. "I was going to marry him, but I overheard him telling a friend about some girl, and then he told him that he was only marrying me so he wouldn't get kicked out by his parents."
"Why would his parents kick him out?"
"He'd been in trouble off and on, and I think his parents thought if he got married he'd become responsible and settle down."
"So he went looking for a bride?"
"I guess so." She flinched when Quint laughed, the sound jarring to her. "It's not funny," she muttered.
"Damn straight it isn't funny. You didn't know a thing about it when you agreed to marry him?"
"No. I believed him."
"What did he believe about you?"
"Pardon me?"
"What did you tell him? That you loved him?"
It startled Annie to think that she'd never said those words to Trevor … or to any other person in her life except for Sammi. "I guess he assumed that I did."
"If you agreed to marriage, it's a good bet he assumed it."
She knew getting married and having the child as his pawn so he could have access to his family funds was all he'd thought about. "I couldn't go through with it."
"When you found out the reasons he wanted to marry you, you got into a fight?"
"I confronted him. He was drunk and he said things that were…upsetting, then he tried to…" She bit her lip hard and veered back to the truth Quint already knew. "He was afraid that he was going to lose his family fortune, that he'd have to get an honest job and work like the rest of us."
"That's why he's going after you?"
"He's mad and probably a bit desperate," she said truthfully. "His folks will think he fouled things up again." She looked ahead of them. "Quint?"
"Yeah?"
"I appreciate all of this, I really do. You could have kept driving after the roadblock when you found out about the assault thing."
"I almost did."
His blunt words made her breath catch. "You did?"
"I told you I don't want to get involved, and if this ex-fiancé has so much money and power behind him, he could make things pretty tight for both of us."
"Not you. You didn't do a thing. I'd just tell him you gave me a ride."
"Maybe he'll think you were running away from him to be with me?"
"Oh, I don't think so."
"It sounds logical to me. You walked out on him to go to another man."
He was right. It sounded logical, but another man wasn't even in the picture. "Trevor wouldn't think that. He's probably certain that no man could compete with him."
"Or with his money."
"He probably thinks that, too."
"This friend you're going to meet in New Mexico—"
She cut him off. She couldn't keep talking about this and not trip herself up. So she changed the subject. "Have you been in Oklahoma before?"
He looked at her. "You aren't going to tell me, are you?"
"I'm just tired of talking about this."
He fingered the steering wheel. "All right. I was in Oklahoma once years ago."
"You lived around here?"
"No, I worked near Tulsa."
"Doing what?"
"I was a bodyguard."
She stared at him. He had the size and the bearing. She had seen him take out Bugsy with one kick. Yet she remembered the gentleness in him when she'd come out of the nightmare. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious."
"Who were you working for?"
"A businessman who had enemies."
"How long did you work for him?"
"Until he died."
She stared at him. "He was murdered?"
He cast her a darkly shadowed look, but she could see the hint of a smile tug at his lips. "He died of a heart attack, not a bullet or a bomb. And I wasn't anywhere near him when he keeled over and bit the big one."
She sank back in the seat. "Have you worked for anyone famous?"
"A few, here and there," he murmured.
"Who?"
He looked at her again. "A couple of singers."
"Really? Who?"
"Have you ever heard of Bentley Days?"
Who hadn't heard of the soul singer? "You worked for him? You're kidding?"
"I wish I was. He was a royal pain in the butt."
"How long did you work for him?"
"Until I couldn't take it anymore, about a year and a half."
"What did he do?"
"He wouldn't do anything I asked. He wasn't about to alter his life-style to stay alive, so I finally walked."
"Where did you go?"
"To another job. Then another."
"Are you working for anyone now?"
He was silent and she thought at first that he hadn't heard the question. But just when she was about to repeat it, he said, "No. I'm changing professions."
"What are you going to do now?"
"I haven't decided, but it's not going to be body-guarding. I think those days are over."
"That's too bad."
"No, it's a relief."
"You said your brother lives in California."
"No, I didn't."
"Yes you did, when you were talking about going to Santa Barbara."
"Oh, yeah. I guess I did. Actually, I think I'll hit Patrick
up for a job. He owns his own paint and body shop."
"That sounds tame after being a bodyguard."
"Tame isn't all bad." He motioned ahead of them. "Maybe that's Jarvis."
She looked and saw the glow of lights in the predawn sky, partially hidden by low hills. She wanted to get to Sammi, but for some reason the idea of leaving Quint made her feel uneasy. And vulnerable. He'd been a bodyguard of sorts for her over the past hours. "It could be."
"Where do you want to go when we get there?"
"The bus station, I think. I'll get the first bus west, then get off along the line and find a rental car." She sighed. "I hate doing this, but I can't let Trevor find me, and now that he's gone to the police…" Her voice trailed off, then she took a breath. "I'm sure not going to let him put me in jail for pushing him when he was … being such a jerk."
"He doesn't have a clue where you're going?" There were so many things she hadn't thought out. Of course he'd know where she was going, and he could be there waiting for her when she arrived at Jeannie's. "Yes, I guess he'd figure it out."
"Then don't go to New Mexico. Change your plans and go someplace he'd never think to look for you."
"I have to go there first," she said.
"To meet your friend?"
"Yes." But she couldn't meet Jeannie at her home or the restaurant. She'd have to call her when she got to the bus station and make plans where to meet.
"I figured as much," he muttered.
* * *
Chapter 7
« ^ »
Annie didn't have a clue why Quint sounded so put out by her simple statements, and she didn't have time to worry about it when they neared the outskirts of Jarvis.
She was surprised. Jarvis wasn't a tiny town like Scarlet. It sprawled out in either direction toward low hills. It was an assortment of buildings, both houses and businesses, that were low to the ground with flat roofs and a few trees shading the wide streets.
Right under the sign welcoming everyone to Jarvis, population 35,000, was a sign that listed the bus terminal as one mile and an arrow pointing south. Before she could say anything to Quint, he saw the same sign and turned south on the next street.
They drove down the deserted street, past closed businesses with false Western fronts, then Annie spotted a blue-and-white neon sign. It was off to the right just beyond a hardware store and in front of an old building with a flat roof, peeling paint on the walls, and a jutting portico out in front where a single bus idled near the glass entry doors.
Quint drove past the front under old-fashioned streetlights and turned right into a parking lot to the side of the building that held a handful of cars. He didn't bother parking the Corvette, but stopped near the entry, let the car idle, and he turned to Annie. "I guess this is it."
Annie held her purse to her middle and looked at Quint. "I don't know how to thank you for what you've done for me."
He actually smiled at her, a slow, devastating smile that made her eyes burn with the sting of tears. "Did I have a choice?"
"Yes," she whispered. "You did."
He shifted toward her and, without warning, touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers. The heat sizzled through her, and she was afraid to move. Afraid to break the contact, but afraid if she didn't, she'd reach out to him one last time. "I actually don't think I did," he said in a rough whisper.
She closed her eyes tightly for a moment, then took a shaky breath before looking at Quint again. For a long moment she stared at him, memorizing every detail of the man. Then his fingers trailed down her cheek, and the contact was broken. "I won't forget what you did," she said in a tight voice she barely recognized as her own.
For a second the world seemed to stop, then Quint leaned toward her and brushed his lips against her forehead. "I hope you get where you want to go, Anne Marie Thomas," he whispered. He drew back and turned from her. "I'll get your bag out of the back."
Annie took a second to inhale one deep breath, catching at the lingering scents in the car mellowness of leather and a certain essence that seemed to be all Quint. She stored it all away with the other memories, then opened the door and got out.
She turned and Quint was there with her bag. "Do you want me to take it inside for you?" he asked.
She shook her head. "No, thanks." She didn't want to draw this out any longer than she had to. When he passed her the bag, she made very sure not to touch him in the process, then she had her heavy bag in one hand, her purse in the other.
She looked up at Quint, marveling at how short a time she'd known him and how sad she felt knowing she would never see him again. Without trusting herself to say anything else, she headed away from him and went toward the entry to the terminal. When she passed the idling bus and went up the single step to the glass doom, she had to fight an urge to take one last look at Quint.
Instead, she pushed the closest door open with her shoulder and went inside.
Quint watched Annie disappear and knew it was safer this way. She was going to her "friend" and he was getting on with a life that had taken a short, but temporary detour. He turned, closed the trunk, then went around, got back in the car and put it in gear.
As he drove toward the far end of the lot, he repeated a mistake he'd made the first time he left Annie. He took one last look in the rearview mirror. This time he didn't see Annie at all, but he saw flashing lights and he hit the brakes.
He twisted in the seat and saw two squad cars pulling into the drive by the entry. One stopped behind the idling bus, the other one went around and parked nose into the curb in front of the bus, effectively blocking it from leaving.
When the cop in the front car got out, Quint saw him clearly for a moment, and he knew right then they were after Annie. The man was the one who had talked to Quint at the roadblock and showed him Annie's picture. Trevor Raines really meant business and wasn't giving up. Worse yet, Annie was in there, a sitting duck without any idea about what was going to happen.
At that moment, Quint gave up even trying to rationalize anything he did where Annie was concerned. Instead of driving out onto the street and leaving only his dust behind, he went to the back of the asphalt lot and parked the Corvette out of sight behind a group of trash bins.
He got out, looked around and when he spotted a side entrance, he headed for it. With any luck the door wouldn't be locked from the inside. He went up the single step, grabbed the handle and the door opened without a sound. He stepped into what looked like a locker room, where cool air brushed across his skin as he looked around the gray-and-green space. Worn tiles were underfoot and gray metal lockers lined the walls on either side.
He crossed to an opening directly opposite the side entry and looked into the main room that smelled of age and cigarette smoke. A low ceiling umbrellaed an area with benches in the middle, more lockers on the wall by Quint and a ticket counter and luggage area on the far wall.
Maybe half a dozen passengers were waiting in the room, a couple stretched out on the hard wooden benches sleeping, the others scattered around, reading or just staring off into space. Quint barely had time to see that Annie was nowhere in sight before the front door opened and two cops strode in.
Quickly Quint ducked back to use the side of the nearest lockers as partial shelter, and he watched the two men cross to the ticket counter. His heart hammered against his ribs; the cop who knew him was less than thirty feet from him at the ticket counter.
Where was Annie? She couldn't have left by the front door without running into the cops, and she certainly didn't duck out the side door. He looked across the room, but the only doors were at the back where the luggage went. Then he looked to his left past a series of vending machines and he spotted restrooms; that was the only place she could be if she was still in the building.
He made sure the cop still had his back to him as he spoke to the ticket agent, then, as casually as he could, he stepped out into the main room. When he ducked into the alcove, he paused self-consciously before
the door to the ladies' room, astonished at how far he would go to keep Annie from being locked up, then pushed the door back and eased inside.
He found himself in a narrow room with a sagging sofa against one wall with a mottled mirror over it, and double-stacked lockers on the facing wall. Double doors at the far end were closed, and he couldn't hear anything except the low drone of elevator music being piped in from the waiting room.
No one was in here and, for a moment, he had the thought that maybe Annie wasn't here because Annie didn't exist. He'd produced her from an imagination that had grown too active in prison, an imagination that had drawn him into the Oklahoma night, into a ladies' room in a run-down bus terminal, looking for a woman who'd turned his world on its ear and jeopardized his freedom. But as he turned to get the hell out while he still could, he spotted her suitcase pushed between the wall and the end of the couch. Just as he started toward it to make sure it was real, the double doors to his right swung open and he turned.
Annie was there, staring at him as if he were a ghost.
"Quint?" she whispered as she slowly crossed to where he stood. "What … what are you doing here?"
He didn't have an answer for that. He wished he did, but nothing made sense about what he was doing. Not any more than it made sense that without even touching her, he could remember the feel of her as if the contact had just taken place. He jammed his fingertips in the pockets of his jeans and spoke quickly, hoping to grab at some form of sanity.
"The cops are out there looking for you."
Annie could feel the blood draining from her face at an alarming rate. Seeing Quint there had startled her. She'd never expected to see him again, and for a split second she knew such relief and pleasure at the sight of him that everything else had faded.
Then he told her the situation and reality hit her with a sickening blow. "What?" she managed.
"The trooper who showed me your picture at the roadblock is out there talking to the ticket agent right now."
"Damn it," she said as she turned from Quint. She hugged her arm around herself as she faced her own reflection in the distorted mirror on the wall. She looked as if she were hugging herself to try and hold herself together, and that was truer than she cared to admit.
THE BRIDE WORE BLUE JEANS Page 8
