"They're hell-bent on getting you."
"This is all like a nightmare that won't stop even when I'm awake," she said.
"Well, the nightmare's going to get very real in the next minute or two if we don't get out of here and get out fast."
She looped her purse over her shoulder, then moved over to grab her suitcase. With a grip on the heavy bag, she turned and hurried past Quint toward the door. "Let's go," she said over her shoulder.
Quint startled her when he touched her shoulder. When she turned, he let her go to reach past her and open the door just enough to see out into the terminal.
"There he is," Quint whispered so close to her ear that she felt the heat of his breath ruffle her hair.
She stared out the opening and tightened when she saw a uniformed trooper across the waiting room. Right then another ticket agent came up behind the desk, and the trooper handed her something. As the agent took it and studied it, Quint drew back and let the door swing shut.
Annie turned and Quint was halfway across the room heading to the double doors that led into the toilet area. "Wait right there," he said as he went through the doors and disappeared. But he wasn't gone more than a few seconds before he came back out. "The window's too small to get through," he said, then without missing a beat, he was right in front of her. "We've only got one chance."
She didn't get an opportunity to ask what it was before he said, "Just follow me and keep quiet." He cracked the door again, looked out, then turned back to her and unexpectedly reached for her hand. As his fingers closed around her hand, he drew her with him out the door.
Annie caught sight of the cop at the desk with his back to them for a fraction of a second, then Quint was taking her straight across from the ladies' room to the men's room. The next thing she knew they were inside and the door was closing behind them.
There was no lounge in here, just one long, narrow room with urinals and only two of the six stalls had doors on them. "Hey?" Quint called and his voice echoed around them.
When no one answered, he hurried with her to the last stall and pushed back the swinging door.
"Quint," she breathed, "we can't—"
He didn't stop. He pulled her into the stall with him, closed the door and threw the bolt. Then he turned to Annie, let go of her hand and pressed one finger to her lips. "If you want to get out of this without going to jail or being forced back to Trevor, just do as I say. Trust me."
She looked into his dark eyes and didn't even hesitate. "What do you want me to do?"
He took her suitcase out of her hand, put it on the top of the tank on the toilet, then put her purse on top of that. He dropped the lid on the toilet, sat down on it and the next thing Annie knew, he pulled her down onto his lap. He shifted, putting his arm around her waist, then whispered near her ear, "If the door opens, pull your feet up. Don't move and don't make a sound."
She closed her eyes, feeling as if she were being bombarded by sensations – the heat of his breath on her cheek, the feeling of his arm around her waist, the casual way his other arm rested across her thighs. "This is crazy," she whispered, and knew that about covered everything that was happening, and not just her hiding in a men's room.
"Amen." Quint's soft word lingered in the air, and she could feel his racing heart against her arm caught between their bodies. Despite his quick thinking and his apparent coolness under pressure, he wasn't exactly taking this lightly.
When she opened her eyes, she met his midnight dark scrutiny and her breath caught in her chest. And when his gaze slowly fell to her lips, she couldn't breathe at all. Even under these absurd, dangerous circumstances, this man had the ability to narrow the world to just the two of them, with a mere look.
Whatever spell he was weaving was shattered when a door slammed against a nearby wall, and the muffled sound of voices could be heard at a distance. Quint touched her parted lips with his finger. "Shh," he whispered and his hold around her waist tightened.
A moment later the door to the men's room flew open so hard that the metal barrier hit the cement block wall with a vibrating thud. Quint shifted, slipped his arm under Annie's legs and helped her lift them up out of sight.
"Go in and check," a man said, his voice echoing in the room. "That last woman was sure she saw her come over this way."
"Maybe she saw someone else, or maybe the Thomas woman went out the side door and kept going in that black Corvette."
Annie felt Quint's arm spasm slightly and tighten around her waist even more.
"Yeah, maybe, but I hate to think the dame could slip past us and disappear like Houdini."
"Yeah. Let me take a look in here," one of the men said, then footsteps struck the gray tiles. "Hello?" he called out, then something struck their stall door. "Hey, someone in there?"
"There's more stalls," Quint called out in a voice he'd altered with a slight twang. "Take your choice. I'm busy."
"I just wanted to ask if you've seen anyone else coming in here?"
"This ain't exactly a team sport," Quint snapped.
"Well, did you hear anyone come in here in the past few minutes?"
"I wasn't checking the traffic, but I heard the door open and close. No one came in."
"Did you see anyone by the phones when you came in? A woman with red hair, in her mid-twenties, pretty, in blue jeans and a white shirt?"
Quint looked right at Annie. "What're you asking for?"
"Listen man, I'm a state trooper. I'm asking nice if you saw a woman like that?"
Quint didn't hesitate. "Nope. Sure didn't."
"Damn," the cop muttered.
"You got a problem?" Quint asked without looking away from Annie.
"Yeah, you could say that," the cop said.
Annie held her breath when she heard the man walking away, then he spoke to someone else. "She must have made it out the side door."
"Yeah, that's what it looks like…"
The other man's words trailed off as they rushed out, the door clicking shut behind them. As soon as the room was quiet again, Annie would have scrambled off of Quint's lap to get out of there, but his hold on her tightened. She turned to look at him. "We have to—"
"Shh," he whispered. "Sit tight. They might come back or be waiting outside. Give them a few minutes, then I'll go and check to see if they left."
Annie looked at Quint, into the dark intensity of his expression, and a certain sense of the ridiculous surfaced, fighting past the fear and uneasiness. She was in the men's bathroom, sitting on the lap of a man she barely knew, in a toilet stall, trying to evade the police.
It shocked her that hysterical laughter was so close to the surface, but it was there, and she had to clap her hand over her mouth to try to stifle it. But even closing her eyes couldn't stop the tears that began to run down her cheek.
"Hey, they're probably gone," Quint said in a low whisper by her ear.
When she opened her eyes, the laughter was gone as suddenly as it had come. But the tears didn't stop. Noiseless sobs all but choked her, and she pressed her face into Quint's shoulder while she cried silently. When he brushed her hair with a gentle motion, skimming over her small cut, something in her began to relax, and she released a shuddering breath.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she mumbled, but didn't move away from Quint.
"You've been through hell. You've got a right," he said, his voice a rough rumble against her cheek. "Get it out of your system."
His words stopped any more tears as she suddenly thought that crying was one thing, but sitting here with him like this was something entirely different. When his fingers touched her chin and tipped her face up until she had to look into his eyes, everything changed. His gaze was intense, a fire deep in his eyes that was beginning to flare to life in Annie, and it scared her almost as much as the police had moments ago.
When Quint exhaled, Annie could feel the world start to narrow to just the two of them again. But the spell wasn't broken this time. It grew and pulled her in until th
e feeling of being held in Quint's arms was everything. The desire to kiss him was so potent, and nothing had ever seemed as natural to Annie as lifting her face to him.
The kiss was deep and searching, with a passion in it that flamed white hot almost instantly. The stunning intensity of the contact shattered every piece of logic, every thread of reason, and Annie wrapped her arms around Quint's neck. She buried her fingers in his thick hair, catching at the taste of the man, and inviting his tender invasion.
She had no idea where this was going, but she knew that despite the circumstances, she was glad Quint came back. That he was here with her, holding her, touching her, exploring her, and the rightness of it had nothing to do with logic. When his hand found her breast, she strained against his touch, an ache deep inside her building quickly.
Then the sound of the outer door crashing open again shattered the moment. Annie jerked back and Quint stared at her, his eyes burning with the same need she knew was in her own expression. A light sheen of moisture filmed his skin, and his nostrils flared with each ragged breath he took. Annie never looked away from Quint as someone came storming into the rest room muttering under his breath.
Water ran in one of the basins, there was splashing, then whoever had come in, left. As the door clicked shut, Quint exhaled unsteadily, and when he spoke in a vaguely hoarse voice, he didn't even mention what had just happened between them.
"You need to change your clothes. The cop's giving descriptions of what you're wearing. You've got your suitcase here. Get out something else to wear."
She looked around the gray-walled stall. "Here?"
"This is it," Quint said, then eased her off his lap until she was standing on legs that were far from steady.
When he stood, she deliberately didn't let her gaze drop below his waist. She didn't have to. He looked at her intently, then reached and undid the bolt on the door as he spoke softly. "I'll stand guard outside, and if anyone comes in, get up on the seat. I'll tell them this stall doesn't work."
She looked up at Quint and had to ask one question. "Why are you doing this?"
He studied her intently for what seemed an eternity before he whispered, "I wish I knew." Then he turned and opened the door. He checked the area before he looked back at Annie. "We don't have much time, so hurry."
When he stepped out and closed the door, she sagged back against the cold metal wall. She took a deep breath, then pushed all of her confusion to one side and reached for the suitcase. She laid it on the toilet seat, opened it and took out a pair of beige shorts with pleats at the front and a soft pink blouse. Quickly she stepped out of her sandals, slipped off her jeans and shrugged out of her shirt. She pushed the clothes into the suitcase, then tried to twist her hands behind her to undo the satin buttons on the bustier.
Quint's stomach was killing him. Nerves refused to settle and he paced back and forth in the dreary space, every sound from the stall getting his attention. Thoughts of what had happened just moments ago flooded his mind. His body tightened treacherously, threatening to display everything he was trying to fight and he fought to push the images out of his mind.
He stopped at the nearest sink, turned on the cold water, cupped it in his hands and splashed it on his face. But the action did little to kill the response his body seemed intent on having to the woman behind the gray metal door.
He grabbed at a paper towel, rubbed it roughly over his face, then wadded it into a ball and tossed it into the overflowing trash container by the door. He turned and crossed to the stall door and rapped softly on it. "Hurry up," he said in a tight whisper. "We can't waste much more time."
"I'm trying," he heard Annie mumble. "But, I…"
He pushed open the stall door and when he almost hit Annie with the barrier, he froze. She stood in front of him, her suitcase open on the closed toilet, and all she had on was a pair of beige shorts and that lace-and-satin bra thing he'd seen before.
He knew that she had to fight the urge to cross her arms over her breasts, but she didn't give in to it. She stood there and spoke in a breathy whisper, "I can't get this damn thing undone."
"Then leave it on," he said more abruptly than he intended, keeping his distance.
"Can't." She reached behind her with one hand and twisted trying to reach her back. "I've got them half undone, and I can't just—"
He felt his control starting to shatter, and he spoke quickly. "Turn around."
She stared at him.
"Turn around," he said, making himself not reach out to turn her himself. "We don't have time for this."
* * *
Chapter 8
« ^ »
When Annie turned her back to him, Quint looked at the row of satin buttons that were slipped through fabric loops. Then he started to undo the tiny buttons one at a time, and made very sure he didn't touch any of the silky skin under the fine material. He managed to get them all undone, and as the fabric fell apart, he had a fleeting image of her bare back. He turned and stepped out of the stall as he muttered, "Let's get going."
He never looked back until the stall door was closed, then he stared at the gray metal before he slowly lifted his hands up in front of him. They were shaking, but that was the least of his worries when it came to this woman. He could see Annie's bare feet under the door, then she pushed her feet into her sandals.
The next thing, the door opened and she was there just doing up the buttons on a pale pink blouse. "Done," she said.
He looked at the still open suitcase behind her. "Get that thing fastened, and I'll check outside to see what's going on." He was glad to move away, to go to the door and ease it back. The distance between himself and Annie was very welcome right now. He looked out into the waiting room and couldn't see anyone but a man sleeping on a bench in the center of the room.
"Be right back," he said over his shoulder, then went out farther, past the pay phones and got a good, unobstructed look around.
A ticket agent was working at a computer with his back to the room. The bus out front must have left, because the rest of the room was basically empty, except for the man sleeping on the bench and a woman reading a novel near the luggage area. Quint looked at the side door, then quietly walked across to it, looked through the sheet glass and saw the all but deserted parking lot. He couldn't see anything moving at all, and no trooper cars in sight.
He turned, glanced at the ticket agent who was still busy at the computer, then he went back to the alcove. Quietly he went back into the men's room. Annie was in the doorway of the stall with her suitcase in one hand and her purse clutched to her side. Her coppery hair was still in the band, but if anyone noticed anything about her, it had to be her hair.
"Have you got some sort of hat in that suitcase?" he asked without going closer.
"Just a baseball cap that I—"
"Perfect. Get it out and put it on while I keep watch." He turned without waiting for her to answer, and he held the door ajar enough to see anyone who might come in their direction.
He stared straight ahead until he heard Annie speak right behind him. "How's this?"
He turned and Annie was close to him, her hair tucked under a white cotton bill cap. And any hope that she'd look less appealing that way was shattered. If anything, she looked more lovely, with her fine bone structure exposed and her eyes looking incredibly large and green.
"It'll do," he muttered. "All right, we'll go out together. You stay between me and the wall. No matter how much you want to run, walk at an easy pace. We'll go to the side door about twenty feet down on the right. Go out the door, down the step and the car's parked behind trash bins near the back wall."
He took the car keys out of his pocket, then held it out to her. "Get in the car, get down and wait for five minutes. If I'm not out by then, or if you see the cops anywhere around, get the hell out of here."
"Quint, I can't just leave you like that."
He cupped her chin with his free hand and it unnerved him to feel she was trembling
. "Annie," he said softly and urgently. "Just do what I'm asking you to do, and don't look back."
She stared at him, and he could see the glistening of tears in her eyes. The last thing he needed, and the last thing he could cope with now, was more tears. "I don't know how to thank you," she whispered.
"Don't thank me. Just do as I ask."
He let go of her chin, reached for her hand, then pressed his keys in her palm. As she closed her fingers around the keys, he turned from her. When they left this room, they were exposed. And neither one of them stood a chance if the cops were waiting out there. Annie could be locked up or taken back to Raines and he'd be taken back to prison if the truck driver he'd hit had filed assault charges against him.
There was no looking back now. Fool or savior, he wasn't quite sure what he was, but as he looked back at Annie, he knew he didn't have a choice. He'd do what he had to do to make sure she never went through a fraction of what he did being locked up, to hell with the reason she was going to New Mexico.
He reached for her suitcase and took it from her, then he opened the door, looked out and motioned for Annie to come with him. She stayed behind him until they walked out into the main terminal, then she did what he'd told her to do. She fell in step between him and the wall. They didn't touch, but Quint could literally feel her presence.
He had to force himself to walk casually and quietly, while he kept the ticket agent in sight out of the corner of his eye. When they reached the side door, he turned his back on Annie and watched the terminal. When Annie opened the door, warm air swept into the room. For a fleeting moment, he felt Annie press her hand to his back, then the contact was gone as if it had never been made.
He felt the door close, and he didn't have to turn and look to know Annie was gone. He couldn't even sense her near him anymore.
Carefully, Quint turned and when he reached for the door, he looked through the glass at the parking lot. Annie was nowhere in sight. He pushed open the door, stepped out and walked down the single step, scanning the area as he went, but he couldn't see anyone at all.
THE BRIDE WORE BLUE JEANS Page 9
