Kiss Them Goodbye

by Stella Cameron

  “You’re not keen on kids,” he announced. “You’ve got your dog and you dote on it.”

  ”Her,” Vivian said.

  “Yeah. Kids are important to me.”

  She rubbed her face with both hands and rolled the window down an inch. “Leave Boa out of it. You don’t make one bit of sense. Because a person loves a dog, they can’t like kids? I like children a lot. I think Wendy’s a doll but I don’t know her yet and I haven’t had a lot of practice with saying the right things to little girls.”

  “You don’t have to worry about sayin’ the right things. Be yourself. Kids know if you’re a phony tryin’ to make points.” He didn’t sound as if he particularly enjoyed what he was saying.

  “Well, you’ve let me know I don’t have to worry about being taken for a phony, then. I’ve let her lead the way, which is how I think it should be done.” She felt like getting out of the van, but what would that prove when she wouldn’t know how to get home? “I don’t understand why you started on this.”

  “I want more children.”

  A very still place opened in Vivian’s mind. No particularly constructive thoughts formed there. “The way you love Wendy, I’m not surprised.”

  “Am I wrong about you? Would you like your own children sometime? Maybe soon?”

  Okay, so what did she say to that? What would make him ask such questions in this situation? “I hope to have children one day. I haven’t had a reason to think about it.”

  “But you would like to?”

  He was really serious about this stuff. “Yes, I would. One day.”

  “There’s nothing like having your own kids. They love you because you belong to them and they belong to you. You can make them happy and secure or disappoint them sometimes. But they want to trust you so bad, and I think it’s real hard to make them stop loving you.”

  The way he talked brought a lump to her throat. If she had the guts, she’d ask him if this was an offbeat way of saying he’d like her to be the mother of some children for him. She shouldn’t even think about making fun of his feelings. How many men would take a woman aside to talk about how much he liked children.

  No man in his right mind.

  “You think I’m crazy,” he said.

  She started and laughed uncomfortably. “I do not. I think you’re sweet and special. And lovable. I admit it’s a shock to hear a man telling me he wants more children and explaining what they mean to him, but I like it.” She did.

  “Lovable? You think so?”

  “I might. And it would be your fault for pressing my buttons.”

  “I’d like to press all kinds of things for you,” he said. “And you could do the same for me.”

  Vivian caught her breath. “You change topics fast,” she told him. “If you were a woman, you’d probably be accused of talking dirty, too.”

  “Life’s short. Make love a lot,” he said. “I don’t believe in wasting time. And talking dirty can be a turn-on for some folks.”

  “Have I told you you’re not subtle?”

  “Yes, you have, but I already knew. At least when it comes to talkin’ about things that matter to me.” Spike slid a hand behind her neck and massaged the base of her head. “You’re tense.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “My fault for comin’ on to you the way I did. I’d better fix that.” The massage shifted to her shoulders, a kneading pressure that made her want to hang her head forward.

  His hand slipped down her back until he reached her waist and tugged her blouse free of her pants. “Your skin’s hot,” he said when he played his fingertips around to her side and eased her to kneel on the seat. He moved her so effortlessly, she felt insubstantial and liked it. Tucking his hand beneath her bottom, he tipped her toward him over the console. “Put your arms around my neck,” he said and she did as she was told.

  “Didn’t you just apologize for coming on strong?”

  “No, cher, I just mentioned I had come on to you and said I needed to fix it. I think I meant, finish it.”

  She thought about the back of the van, and immediately told herself off for wanting him so badly that she hated the console between them.

  Then she couldn’t focus on the console.

  Had she been worrying about the console?

  She needed to hang on to his neck tightly or she’d fall and might keep on falling forever. He turned sideways in his seat and kissed her. He had a lingering way with kissing, all careful attention to every tiny move. He kissed her as if he needed to eat her and her mouth was a great place to start. Swollen lips shouldn’t feel so good.

  Mr. Devol had special skills. His particular way of smoothing his hands over her bottom, of sliding long fingers between her legs from behind, of pressing, manipulating, could be a form of torture, or just plain magic. And he managed it all without taking his mouth from hers.

  Vivian felt the start of a pulse, right where a pulse felt best, but she had enough reason to make sure she was only titillated, not satiated. She sat on her heels and made it impossible for Spike to keep on doing what he was doing.

  “Mmm,” he murmured. “A man loses one way of entertainin’ himself, he finds another, cher.” Another meant he took advantage of having her arms around his neck and her body stretched so that she couldn’t protect vulnerable parts, and undid her blouse.

  He shifted swiftly and slung her over his shoulder. While she laughed, he gripped her knees with one forearm, swept her legs over the console and wriggled her so that she lay more or less flat on the passenger seat.

  “The circus,” she panted. “You should join a circus.”

  A single long, blunt finger, landing on her lips, silenced Vivian. The faintest of air currents came through the window she’d cracked open, the occasional fractured drop of rain, even, but Spike had been right when he said her skin was hot. She’d burn up completely any minute now.

  He held her down by the shoulders, under the blouse that wasn’t covering anything anymore. Then gradually, while she saw his concentration, while he leaned over her a little, she forgot everything but his palms brushing her nipples, moving in circles, and bringing her bottom arching up each time a sweet sting darted through her. He filled his hands with her breasts and pushed them together. His head tilted back and he shook her flesh. All but falling on her, he sucked each nipple into his mouth, playing the tip of first one, then the other with his tongue, closing his teeth carefully, moving his face back and forth on her tender skin.

  “Don’t stop,” she told him.

  His answer was to drag off his shirt, roll it up and cushion her hips on that sneaky old console. On its way down, the zip on her pants sounded deafening. So did his. He concentrated hard while he did extraordinary things to render her naked but for the shirt still bound to her by the arms.

  The moments he used to bury his face between her legs while he pulled her pants from the second foot made her thrash. “Ouch,” she moaned, hitting her wrist on the dash. Then she just moaned. Next she pulled him away by his hair and he played her body like an inspired musician, hitting every note true and clear. She broke into a sweat, panted, tried to catch his hands.

  Spike made it his turn to kneel on the seat, between her knees and then with her legs wrapped around his waist.

  With his forearms beneath her, his hands at the back of her head, he entered her. Care lasted all of two strokes before he made a keening sound and drove them together. Vivian added her own impatient wildness to his, met him again and again for the few thrusts it took to reach that explosive, welcome little death.

  The sound he made now was almost a sob, or was that her, Vivian wondered without caring.

  “Cher,” he murmured. “Darlin’ woman. You are so beautiful and you make me feel I never want to move away—or I would if I didn’t want to be on a soft bed with you. I don’t want to wake up in the mornin’ without you by my side.”

  “Hush,” she said. This man who wasn’t good with romance could sweet-talk babies to sleep
anytime.

  She opened her eyes. “I stopped taking my pills,” she said, horrified at having forgotten. “I needed to come off them for a while.”

  He shimmied low enough to kiss her stomach and stroke his tongue into her navel.

  Panic had never changed much of anything. “Spike—”

  “I’m flattered,” he said, laughter in his voice. “Guess I had you so distracted there were things you didn’t notice. Nothin’ to worry about, cher.”

  She relaxed and peered at him. He raised his face and she saw a very white smile in the gloom. “You’re laughing at me,” she said, although she wasn’t serious.

  “Just struck me you might think I’d decided to start one of those babies I talked about. Me, I’m not into trickin’ like that.”

  “You’re a bad man,” she said, and felt herself quicken some more as he began his clever handwork all over again. “You love to tease.”

  “Hmm-hmm…”

  He stopped moving, held completely still. “Hush,” he whispered. “Do you hear anythin’?”

  Vivian fought the urge to cover herself. She turned her head slightly to listen. Nothing. But then a faint rustle that didn’t sound like wind or rain in the grass. She looked at Spike and nodded.

  Carefully, he pulled her blouse over her and she buttoned it while he eased her back onto her side of the van and retrieved the rest of her clothes.

  They didn’t speak while she got her panties on and he pulled up his pants.

  Spike didn’t bother with his shirt. A film of sweat glistened on his shoulders and chest. “Keep your head down,” he said while she was still working into her pants.

  Harsh rapping on the back doors of the van stopped her heart. She pushed down a scream. “Don’t get out,” she begged, clutching at Spike’s forearm. “You don’t know what’s out there. They could be armed.”

  He got the shoulder harness behind her and fastened the seat belt over her hips. For an instant he passed his fingers over her mouth in a silent order not to make a sound. He doubled her over and drew away.

  Please don’t leave me. Please don’t go out there.

  Whoever was torturing them knocked again, this time on the panel behind Spike’s door.

  Vivian heard the faintest noise when he turned the key a single notch in the ignition. Then a hiss reached her and she crammed her hands over her mouth so Spike wouldn’t hear her retch. She’d roll up the window if she dared. Snakes liked abandoned vehicles and they weren’t big enough in the brain department to figure this one was still occupied.

  The hissing got louder.

  “Shee-it,” Spike said, not bothering to lower his voice. “Hold on.”

  He started the engine and gunned it. Immediately they listed to the right, the right at the front, just about exactly where Vivian sat.

  “Lean my way,” he said. “Do as I say. Now.”

  She tried, but couldn’t do it. “We’re slipping,” she told him. “Going down the bank.”

  He eased back on the gas, then tried one more time to propel them forward and onto firm ground. Vivian felt the wheel grip and breathed through her mouth, daring to hope they’d make it out.

  Cautiously, not taking his eyes off the windshield, Spike reached under his seat and produced a gun. He steered with his left hand and cradled the weapon in the crook of the elbow on the same side.

  Vivian’s instinct was to cover her face but that wouldn’t help a thing and it surely wouldn’t help Spike who didn’t need to worry she was about to fall apart.

  They stopped and once again the hissing sound came. Vivian had discarded all thought of snakes. This noise was wrong for that.

  The van tilted forward and to the side and the angle increased slowly but definitely.

  A mighty smash, on the back doors again, jolted Vivian. She took shaky breaths and saw Spike glance down at her. “There’s a man out there, one man,” he said. “I keep catching glimpses of his shadow. He only wants one thing, to scare us to death.”

  “He’s already done that,” Vivian whispered, her throat so dry the words hurt. “Why?”

  “Probably just a powerless kook getting his jollies.”

  “Or someone warning us to stay away from some things. Like the Martins’ business.”

  “Now you’re guessing. We’ve gained some traction—now hold on tight. The ride out is going to be rocky with a slashed tire. We’ll be driving on a rim.”

  The hissing. Of course. Air escaping the tire. “It’s too dangerous,” she muttered. “We’ll have an accident.”

  The vehicle swayed and she found Spike’s leg in the dark, held more tightly than she knew she should.

  “An accident on the road, where we’ve got a chance of being seen, appeals more than getting stuck here with a loon. Fuck his creepy mind. I’ll get him.” The van swayed harder and harder. “He’s not going to quit.”

  “But he’ll knock us into the bayou. Drive, Spike.”

  He depressed the gas slowly, but might as well have saved his time. The right front wheel seemed to be spinning a deeper and deeper groove into mud and the crazy who tortured them rocked the van in earnest.

  They slid sideways at least a foot and Vivian, pressed against the door, peered out of the window and looked directly at the shifting gleam of water. Spike was uphill from her now.

  “I’m going to be sick,” she said.

  “You don’t have time.”

  She crammed one fist into her stomach and grabbed blindly for something to hold on to with the other hand. She found the steering wheel and Spike cursed, not so quietly. He grabbed her hand and held it.

  “Vivian,” he said while they were thrown from side to side. With each bounce they tilted farther and farther over the water. “Vivian, he’s trying to send us into the bayou and I think he’s going to make it. If I try to get out and stop him, it’ll happen fast and you’ll be down there in the water alone, and if I don’t get him before he gets me, he’ll be waiting for you if you try to swim out.”

  “There are snakes in there. And alligators.” She didn’t want to wimp out on him.

  Then it happened. The van half tipped, half slid down the bank.

  Vivian screamed.

  She felt Spike yanking her seat belt undone and he reached to roll her window all the way up. He was a big man and his weight finished them. With a screeching, tearing noise, the wheel rim jarred over embedded rocks, and the left-hand wheels parted company with the ground.

  Vivian tried to twist toward Spike. He reached for her waist and hauled her against him, right before they landed against the door, his weight crushing Vivian. The vehicle hit the murky waters with a great slap.

  “We’re going down,” Vivian shouted. “We’ll drown.”

  “Not without a fight.”

  Second after agonizing second passed, filled with a roaring, sucking sound. Drops of water fell on Vivian’s face. The van wasn’t watertight. “It’s coming in,” she told Spike. “We’ve got to get out.”

  “Just hang on,” he told her. “If we were alone we’d be out of here by now. Okay, that’s what I hoped, we’re righting a bit. Wait, then do exactly what I tell you.”

  With that, he hacked at the passenger window with the butt of his gun.

  “It’s not working.” She sobbed and shook, struggled to keep a hold on his naked torso.

  “Cool it,” he told her, swinging a leg over her. He put all of his weight into kicking at the window. The glass parted company with the frame, but only enough to allow water to gush in. No way could they get out through the gap.

  Vivian tried to stay calm. Hard things clattered across the floor of the van. Water poured in fast.

  Spike twisted around and reached behind the seats. He scrabbled among objects that clanked. “There’s gotta be something heavy enough,” he said. “Maybe this.”

  She couldn’t see what “this” was but it was long and curved and when Spike used it on the window like a battering ram, the glass shattered.

 
He didn’t speak again. Grabbing Vivian, he pushed her through the empty window frame, pushed her against the blasting weight of water until she slithered out.

  Almost instantly her head was above the water and on a level with the top of the van. Attempting to smother her coughs, expecting gunshots to explode around her, she fended off the floating water hyacinth that glided around her neck and shoulders.

  She searched around, looking for Spike. Her shin cracked against a submerged tree trunk. Tears stung her eyes.

  Spike should be right behind her.

  Hands, closing on her ankles, punched her heart into her throat. She couldn’t breathe. Something had happened to Spike. A brief vision of him, submerged and dead inside the car, froze her blood. Trying to hold on to the roof of the van was useless. Slowly her splayed fingers slipped. Slimy flotsam caressed her chin, then the lower part of her face. The man beneath the water, and she knew it was a man, felt for her arms and pulled them to her sides.

  Help me, Spike. She cried out to him inside her head before she sank beneath the surface.

  Water rushed into her nose, then into her mouth and down her throat when she tried to scream.

  Chapter 24

  If she didn’t drown or die of a heart attack, he might save them both.

  The odds weren’t great.

  She’d think he was the enemy intent on killing her but there was no way to let her know otherwise.

  Spike’s lungs burned. He couldn’t hold his breath much longer. Grabbing a handful of Vivian’s hair, he pushed her back inside the Ford and up to the roof where an air pocket would keep them both safe, at least for a little longer. Clamping her there with his feet, he arched backward until his face broke the surface and he sucked in air. He wasted no time before slipping beneath the water again and lifting Vivian all the way into the vehicle before following her.

  Water hyacinth decorated her streaming head. She pushed the trailing stuff aside and looked into his face. He was sure she’d instinctively realized it was him by now.

  “Spike.” She coughed and spat out water. “I thought you were dead. God help us. Is he up there waiting—seeing if we get out?”