Beholden

by Pat Warren

  Unlike Jones, Luke kept himself removed from the personal problems of the witnesses assigned to him after several incidents that had nearly gotten him killed. He’d learned not to take on their troubles, not to turn himself inside out trying to keep them amused until their confinement ended. He was painfully aware that he never should have gotten to know Terry Ryan any better than the others. A protector was most effective when he was detached, impersonal, somewhat distant.

  Somewhere over the past weeks, he’d lost that distance.

  All right, damn it, enough! He started up the stairs.

  Terry felt too weary to move, too bruised to cry. She wanted nothing more than to be in her own bed, to curl up and pull the covers over her head, to escape until she could deal with the world again. Provided that day ever came.

  She was so very tired, yet afraid to sleep for she knew that tonight, she’d dream, reliving that nightmare chase. This whole thing was never going to end. She must have angered the gods but good, for she seemed destined to spend the rest of her days and nights running, trembling, frightened.

  Setting aside her earphones, she sat up and reached to the nightstand for a tissue and blew her nose. It was then that she saw Luke standing in the doorway, his face stormy. What rule had she violated this time to upset him still again? Calmly, she waited for the explosion.

  If he’d come upon her sobbing, he might have walked away, unable to deal with a distraught woman weeping. But he’d stood watching the silent anguish on her face, and she’d gotten to him. Though he felt a shade out of his element, he stepped into the room and walked over to look down at her.

  It wasn’t like the night he’d charged into her room with his gun drawn and scared her. He saw no fear this time, just sadness and fatigue. She’d removed her contacts and headscarf, and wore only jeans and a blue sweater, her feet bare. She looked much younger than he knew her to be, yet the awareness in her deep blue eyes was very much that of a woman.

  He didn’t know what to say to her, so he said nothing. Instead, he sat down on the bed, scooted back to the side-wall, and gently eased her into his arms. He felt her stiffen for a moment, resisting the contact. Then she let out a sigh, wound her arms around him, and snuggled into his chest. Luke let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

  She was so slender, scarcely a hundred pounds, a fragile mound beneath his big hands. He was reminded of a song that spoke of the trembling heart of a captive bird. As the memory formed, Luke frowned, unused to entertaining fanciful thoughts. He certainly didn’t consider himself a tender man, yet Terry Ryan moved him to a sensitivity he hadn’t known he possessed.

  Against his shirt, he could feel her eyelashes as she blinked, so he knew she wasn’t dropping off to sleep. Yet she lay against him so still, so quiet. He reacted instinctively, not thinking so much about what he was doing as much as letting his feelings guide him.

  His one hand gently stroked her back, his touch one of comfort and nothing else. His other hand strayed to her hair, his fingers exploring the baby-fine texture, letting her know with slow caresses that the short length didn’t bother him the way it bothered her. Gradually, he felt her breathing change and knew the instant she began to respond.

  She shifted slightly in his arms, her hands on his back subtly drawing him closer. The warm female scent of her wrapped around him and he breathed in deeply. A warning bell sounded in the back of his mind, and Luke knew he was wandering into dangerous territory. He was too smart for this, too well trained to allow his senses to dictate to his brain.

  But the message didn’t get through. His arms tightened around her as he lowered his head, his cheek resting on her hair. It felt so good to hold her, to feel the flutter of her heart against his. When was the last time he’d simply held a woman, making no demands, expecting nothing? He couldn’t remember if he ever had.

  If his intention had been to empty her mind of fear, Terry thought, then it was working. Suddenly she could think of nothing but how it felt to be held against that hard, strong body, of how safe she felt for the first time in weeks. He was so big, so solid. And for once, he wasn’t issuing orders or being cool, controlled, and standoffish. He was being human.

  How had he known how badly she’d needed the touch of another human being? How could this tough, focused lawman have ever seen the need hidden beneath the facade she’d shown him? How could he have guessed that she’d wanted this so badly?

  But she couldn’t indulge herself too long, couldn’t take advantage of his kindness, couldn’t take a chance that he’d misinterpret her need for comfort for another more basic need.

  Slowly, Terry pulled back and sat away, not meeting his eyes. “I’m all right now. Thanks.” She felt awkward, even a little embarrassed.

  Luke studied the dusting of golden freckles across her small nose, so common to the Irish. His gaze moved to her mouth, full and soft and inviting. He knew she felt self-conscious about her looks since the accident. He didn’t have the words to tell her that she was lovely in his eyes. He’d let his actions speak for him.

  He reached to tilt her chin upward so she had to look at him. He saw the need in the blue depths of her eyes, and gave in to his own. In one swift movement, he touched his mouth to hers and drew her back into his arms.

  Surprise had her lips parting and he seized the moment to send his tongue in to mate with hers. She didn’t struggle, didn’t move at all. Then she breathed a soft sigh and gave herself up to the kiss.

  He’d expected shyness, hesitancy, a touch of reserve. Instead she kissed him back, fully, completely, her taste exploding on his tongue. His hands roamed her back as he shifted, slanting his mouth more firmly over hers, taking her deeper. She didn’t kiss like a wounded bird, but rather like a woman who was making his heated blood race through his veins.

  Luke couldn’t have said later how long the kiss lasted. But suddenly he knew as surely as he knew his own name that he never should have touched her, that he’d started something he might not be able to stop if he didn’t end it right now. Pulling back, breathing hard, he stared into eyes still hazy with passion unexpectedly aroused.

  What in hell had he done?

  Terry saw the regret on his face, and looked away. “Are you playing games with me?” she asked softly.

  “No. I wanted to reassure you and… ” He rubbed the back of his neck, disgusted with himself. “Oh, hell. I wanted to kiss you and I did. No big deal.”

  No big deal. Anger replaced the last vestiges of desire. “Do you kiss all the women you’re assigned to protect?”

  He almost flinched at that one. “No.”

  She scooted off the bed, her bare feet cold on the floor, and hugged herself in a classically defensive posture. “No, of course not. Then you must have kissed me because I’m so beautiful, so irresistible, with my perfect face and my gorgeous hair.” She watched a frown appear and rushed on. “No, I thought not. You kissed me because you felt sorry for me, the poor little battered, bald waif. Well, I don’t need your pity, thank you very much.” She whirled away from him, choking back the tears that threatened to fall.

  “Pity?” Luke got to his feet, grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him. Before she could react, he yanked her close and crushed his mouth to hers.

  This was no sweet, tender kiss, no slow exploration, no tentative mating dance. His mouth devoured, his tongue plundered, and his arms molded her body to his with a ruthlessness just barely held in check. He drank from her, deeply, thoroughly, and finally felt her stunned response.

  Terry’s hands moved up his back, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she hung on, scarcely able to stay upright, her knees wobbly. She tasted his anger and felt his strength as he held her in a bone-crushing grip. She’d thought him dangerous from the moment she’d first laid eyes on him, but hadn’t realized until now how much control he’d exerted over his emotions. She’d made him mad and he’d unleashed the fury that lay just beneath the surface.

  Yet she didn’t fea
r him, not physically. Senses swimming from the passionate onslaught, she knew her greatest fear centered around the way he could so effortlessly make her feel. Alive, aware, throbbing with needs she could scarcely put a name to. What defenses did she have against all that?

  Just as abruptly, he wrenched his mouth away and let her go. He watched her take a staggering step backward to maintain her balance, and felt a fresh rush of anger at what he’d done. No, he never should have touched her. But she’d pushed him too far.

  “Did that feel like pity to you?” Luke asked, his voice thick. Without waiting for her answer, he left the room and went downstairs.

  No, that definitely hadn’t felt like pity. Terry walked to the wall mirror and studied her reflection. Her eyes were bright and shining, her mouth swollen from his kisses. She licked her lips and tasted him. The truth was staring her in the face, the truth she’d denied even to herself.

  She wanted Luke Tanner and now he knew it, too.

  The phone rang at ten that evening, surprising Luke. Only Jones had the number. At this late hour, he doubted if his commanding officer had called for a chat. He’d been sitting staring into the cooling embers of the fire, going over the scene in Terry’s bedroom, wondering what he should have done differently. He welcomed the diversion as he went to the kitchen and picked up on the third ring.

  “Luke? We’ve got a problem,” Jones said without hesitation.

  He listened quietly, taking notes, asking a few questions. Less than ten minutes later, he was taking the stairs two at a time.

  The door to Terry’s room was ajar and the bedside lamp was on low. She was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She turned to the doorway, a question in her eyes, a guarded look on her face.

  “We have to move out,” Luke told her. “Get dressed and pack up your stuff.”

  She sat up, the fear returning rapidly. “Why? What’s happened?”

  “There’s been another killing.”

  ***

  Terry sat in the passenger seat of the van trying to sort out her jumbled thoughts as Luke turned onto Highway 1 heading south. They’d left at precisely ten-forty, after he’d piled everything they’d brought with them into the van. Prince was sitting up on the seat behind Luke looking out the window, his ears sharp and alert. She hadn’t asked any questions yet, knowing there wasn’t time. Luke wouldn’t have been rushing them along if there wasn’t a real sense of urgency.

  She glanced at his profile now and saw that steely control clearly visible. She’d seen him soften only twice, when he’d held the little boy he’d saved in the drugstore and earlier when he’d kissed her senseless. But she didn’t want to think about that right now.

  “Will you tell me where we’re headed?” she began, needing to know. After all, this was her life, too.

  “A safe house up a mountain trail in Big Sur. Used to be owned by a millionaire named Higgins as a sort of getaway cabin. He had it built for his mistress, or so I was told. He’s in prison for a long stretch. Tax evasion.”

  She’d told him earlier today when they’d been out driving around—Lord, had that been less than eight hours ago?—that she’d like to live in Big Sur. But she hadn’t meant in hiding. “You said there’d been another killing? Who died?”

  He’d wondered when she’d get around to asking. He was getting to know her, the way she mulled things over in that sharp mind, then began questioning. “A police officer named Neil Manning.”

  “What’s he got to do with us?”

  “Manning was partnered with a cop named Jerry Foster who was gunned down in a Phoenix alley the same night your reporter friend was killed. At first, Jones wasn’t sure there was a connection. Then when they started poking around and found evidence of money laundering and corrupt cops, the Federal investigators became fairly certain that Foster was involved and was the one Simon was going to meet that night. So they started leaning on Manning to see if he knew anything.” Luke slowed down, realizing that he’d been speeding. This was no time to be pulled over with explanations required.

  “And did he?”

  “We’ll never know. He was roommates with Foster and he was settling the guy’s estate. A good guess is that he probably ran across something incriminating in going through Foster’s papers. He called Lieutenant Remington and set up an appointment to see him in person. Said he wanted to talk over something he couldn’t discuss on the phone. We also know that Manning’s new partner told him that the Feds wanted to talk with him. But apparently Manning felt more comfortable with Remington. Then, when he didn’t show and didn’t report for his shift either, Remington sent a couple of cops to his apartment. They found Manning dead in the shower, the water still running. Coroner said the head wounds were more in keeping with a beating than a fall. The apartment had been professionally searched and stripped clean.”

  Terry felt a shiver take her. “Then it wasn’t an accident?”

  “No, that’s why I told you there’d been another killing. The Feds couldn’t find anything to indicate what Manning felt was so important. The apartment was clean as a whistle, no fingerprints, no papers, nada.” He glanced over at her and saw the worried frown. “Do you know this Remington? Did he used to come over to your father’s house, too?”

  “No, they didn’t socialize, but I’ve heard Dad speak of him for years, and I’ve met Phil. He’s a gentleman cop, as Dad used to say. Didn’t start out walking a beat, but came right out of college, then graduated at the top of his class at the Academy. He’s good-looking and knows it. He dresses beautifully, but there’s something about him that keeps people at a distance. An aloofness, I guess. I understand he’s next in line for the captain’s job when Marino retires.”

  “What about Marino? Do you think he’s clean?”

  “Lord, I don’t know. It’s not like I hung around the precinct, you know. Most of my impressions are secondhand, through my father’s opinions. I’d sure like to know how Dad feels about Mac. That must have been a shock.”

  “Were Mac and Remington buddies?”

  She frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t know. They worked together, but they’re very different men. They don’t seem the type to be friends in their off hours.” She peered over at him in the dim light of the dash. “Do you suspect everyone at Central?”

  “Pretty much, until this is over and we can clear them. There’s Mac and Foster, maybe Manning. I’d be willing to bet there are more.”

  “You think this Manning was on the take, too?”

  “Could be. Or he could’ve found something and tried fleecing the big boys. When they wouldn’t play, he decided to turn them in to Remington. The boys heard about his call and saw to it that he had a little accident in the shower. It has all the earmarks of a professional hit.”

  “It all sounds so calculated, so cold-blooded.”

  “That’s because it is.” Luke turned off the highway, down a side street, and into a Chevron station. He looked the place over, then pulled up next to the rest rooms. “See that green van over there? We’re going to transfer our stuff into that on the off chance that someone has made this one. I’m going to check out the ladies’ room and, after I do, I want you to wait inside there until I come get you.”

  “Why can’t I help you move our stuff? I don’t want to wait in some crummy rest room.”

  Luke swung his cool gaze to her face, back to being the Federal Agent again. “Will you just do as I say?”

  Terry sighed heavily. She wouldn’t like it, but she’d do it. “Can I take Prince in with me?”

  He nodded as he jumped out of the van.

  In twenty minutes, they were on the road again in their new van. If possible, it was outfitted with even more gadgets than the prior one. Terry was continually amazed at what Bob Jones could accomplish with a couple of phone calls. She glanced back at Prince curled up on the backseat, apparently having decided they’d be spending many more hours traveling through the night.

  “How much farther is this Higgins house?�
� she asked Luke.

  He rubbed an old scar near his right temple that always ached when he was tense. Relocating was always the hardest on his nerves. “It’s not all that far, but after we leave the highway, the road becomes little more than a path. Big Sur is very much a private community, with some of the strictest building codes and restrictions in California, if not the country. Homes or buildings may not be visible from the highway, so they’re all tucked up in the hills among the rocks and trees. Great for our purposes, but the devil to find the first time.”

  “So you’ve never been to this place either?”

  “No, but Bob tells me it’s about as safe and secure as they make them. You might even get your view of the beach from up there.” Spotting the sign he’d been seeking, he turned off the highway onto a narrow road that stretched straight up.

  A light coastal fog had rolled in, swirling around the bent cypress trees and much taller redwoods and pines. It was chilly out, but warm and cozy in the van with the heater on. As they climbed, Terry became aware of the utter blackness surrounding them, with only the headlights shining ahead. The highway far below was no longer visible nor were there streetlights. If they passed houses, the inhabitants must all be asleep, for it was dark everywhere. It was a decidedly eerie feeling.

  Luke drove slowly and with great care, knowing that if he missed a turn up here and crashed, they probably wouldn’t be found for a long while.

  Terry’s thoughts were back in Phoenix with the slain police officers. “Did either of those men killed have families?”

  “Manning never married. Foster was divorced with two kids.”

  “Who do you suppose killed them?”

  “Could have been Ozzie Swain, the gunman whose picture you drew. Or Sam Russo’s brother, Nick. Or some other scumbag who works for the Russo brothers or the mob.”

  “I’m not sure I understand why we had to relocate just because this policeman was killed.”

  It was the question he’d been wanting to avoid. “Just a precaution,” he hedged.