Tania was his. His responsibility. His to keep safe. His to hold if she let him.
But first he needed to reach her. And yeah, something told him she wasn’t going to be happy when he dropped in and rained on her parade.
Chapter Eight
The clutch pressed to the floor, Tania downshifted into the next turn. As her car swung around the bend, she glanced out the side window. Something was, well...off. A little? A lot? She couldn’t tell. Or place the odd feeling, for that matter. Sensation pricked the nape of her neck and intuition whispered, raising awareness, making her think...maybe...
Tania frowned, then shook her head. No. She was being ridiculous. No one was watching her. How could they be? She was in the middle of nowhere. Headlights eating the night gloom, washing over twin center lines. Miles of blacktop in front of her, the prison behind her, racing toward Gig Harbor and the telephone in her hotel room. J.J.’s letter burned a hole in her back pocket while hope did the same to her heart.
Parole. Unbelievable.
Her sister had a shot at a real life. A better one seeded in a second chance. And Tania refused to screw it up for her. She prayed the reporter agreed to stall the news station and put the interview on the back burner for a while. All she needed was a month. A measly thirty days to get through the parole board hearing.
Big problem with that demand, though, and it had a name: Clarissa Newton.
Nibbling on her thumbnail, Tania racked her brain, searching for a viable strategy. One that would convince an ambitious woman to postpone an exposé that would no doubt make her career. Nothing came to mind. No clever argument. No aha moment or brilliant flash of clairvoyance.
She blew out a harried breath. All right, so it was a long shot. Tania knew it, but...damn it all. She had to try. J.J. was depending on her and—
A jolt of static electricity hit her.
Tania gasped, twisting in her seat, the tingle ghosting between her shoulder blades. Without mercy, the prickle collided with the base of her skull, then slid around to attack her temples. Ah, jeez. Another headache. The fourth one this week. She rubbed the sore spot between her brows. The throbbing sting was beyond strange. Especially since she wasn’t prone to migraines. Had never suffered one until a month ago. The first had come right after visiting Myst’s loft, and for a split second Tania wondered if the pain had something to do with the disappearance of her best friend. Worry and stress, maybe? The grief and psychological turmoil of heart-wrenching loss?
Check, check...and check to all of the above.
With a sigh, she pinched the bridge of her nose, combating the discomfort. Stupid cops. Double damn Detective MacCord. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes. She swiped at one, anger burning behind her breastbone. What the heck was he doing...besides not calling her back?
The pinpricks came again, slithering over her skin.
Frowning, Tania fidgeted, butt sliding on the leather seat, hands gripping the steering wheel as she leaned forward to peer outside. Nada. Nothing but her and a deserted stretch of blacktop. She looked harder, straining to see beyond her headlights in the dark. The muscles bracketing her spine stretched, pulling at the tension. Rain splattered her windshield and—
Huh. She sat back in her seat. Would you look at that? Snowflakes...mixed with fat raindrops, bizarre weather for November. Not that Tania minded.
She liked storms...of all kinds, the bigger the better. Truth be told, though, thunderstorms were her favorite. Something about the crash-bang, the absolute rawness of it, soothed her. She always pulled up a chair, poured herself a mug of hot tea, and stayed awake for hours when one of Seattle’s finest rolled through. Just to watch it. Experience it. Be one with an elemental force greater than herself.
Weird, she knew. Most people hated the rain. Wanted sunshine and summer fun. And while that was all fine and good, nothing beat the rumbling sound of thunder.
As if on cue, the sky growled overhead. The wind kicked up, mixing the rain with swirling snow. She laughed a little, loving the combination. Snow and thunder. Who knew they went so well together?
Flicking off her high beams to see through the flurries, she flipped on her wipers. Gears ground into motion and the blades swiped, whisking the slush away. Headlights flared behind her, lighting up the back of her car. Startled by the sudden appearance, Tania glanced in the rearview mirror. She squinted to see through the glare.
Oh, snap. Where had he come from?
She frowned. The front grille looked like it belonged to a pickup truck. The brilliance of high, square lights confirmed it. A Ford F-150 perhaps. Or maybe a Dodge Ram.
The breath caught in the back of her throat. Oh God. Griggs. It had to be. His threats earlier hadn’t been idle...he’d been pissed off and precise. And the engine that had cranked over in the prison parking lot? She now wondered if that had been him, lying in wait for her. Tania chewed on her bottom lip. All right...paranoid much? Maybe. But intuition yelled “no, you’re not!” and as fear pulsed through her, Tania got the message. The one telling her to run, hide, and not come out for a while.
“Stupid...stupid...stupid,” she mumbled, working the clutch like a pro, berating herself for not paying more attention. For being distracted. For letting J.J.’s good news overthrow her usual caution.
Tightening her grip on the wheel, Tania put her foot down. Her Mini might be small, but her girl had guts and a lot of horses under the hood. The engine whined. She shifted into fifth, burying the dial, and roared around the next corner. More cliff than bluff, a rock wall rose alongside her, hugging the right side of the road. The landmark reassured her. Not much farther now. Gig Harbor and safety lay less than a mile away. All she needed to do was hang on tight, drive faster, make it into town before—
The truck swerved wildly behind her. A second later, tires squealed as the driver hit the brakes. The pickup rocked beneath the sheet of rain, sliding across slick asphalt. Metal crunched. Glass shattered. The horrific sound cracked through the quiet as the vehicle whirled into a 180-degree spin behind her. The bright glow of headlights flashed against the sheer rock face, then disappeared from view.
Holy crap. What in God’s name—?
Bang!
Tania yelped as something landed on top of her car. Steel bent inward, groaning as it caved toward her head. She ducked and, easing off the gas pedal, struggled to control the pitching sway of her Mini and stay on the road. Her heart in her throat, she held her breath and listened. Something scraped across the roof of her car.
What was that? A tree branch? A rock? Had the wind blown it loose from the top of the bluff and hit the truck before bouncing on her? Seemed like a logical explanation, if a little far-fetched, but that didn’t change the facts. She needed to slow down and get off the road...
Right now.
She couldn’t see the truck anymore. The pickup was gone. No lights. No discernible wreckage on the road. Nothing visible in her rearview mirror. Good God, Griggs must have driven right off the shoulder. And as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t leave him there. What if he was hurt and in need of medical attention?
Tania slowed, intending to pull over. The scraping sound came again. Following the noise, she glanced toward the passenger seat. The door flew open, wind ripping it from the hinges. The Mini shuddered, pushing her into the oncoming lane. She glanced over her shoulder. Her mouth fell open as she watched her car door hurtling down the middle of the road behind her. An instant later, a man appeared in the gaping hole, long legs leading as he wedged himself inside her car. Fear shoved shock aside, hitting her with a shot of adrenaline.
Self-preservation riding shotgun, Tania screamed and lashed out. Her knuckles met bone. Wham! Pain screamed up her arm. She ignored it and let her fist fly again, aiming for the intruder’s face.
His head snapped to the side. “Ow!”
“Get out!” She wound up a third time. Leading with her elbow, she cracked him in the temple.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” He reached for he
r, big hands blocking each punch.
Terror drilled her, narrowing her vision until she saw spots. “Don’t touch me!”
“Tania...stop it!”
She paused midflail, sucking a quick breath. Wait a minute. Tania? The asshole knew her name? “Oh my God. Who are you? Who—”
“Mac.”
“What...w-where...M-Mac?”
Holding the side of his head, he mumbled, “Yeah.”
Breathing so hard she couldn’t hear herself think, Tania stared at the man seated next to her. Her Mini shuddered, small tires bumping to a stop on wet asphalt. The windshield wipers slid back and forth, the squeaking squawk loud in the sudden silence. She opened her mouth, then shut it again.
Holy jeez. What did he think he was doing?
As the question banged around inside her skull, relief grabbed her by the throat. Not a serial killer. A cop. Mac was a cop. Out of air, she gasped, filling her lungs, trying to make sense of the invasion. Her eyes provided a quick snapshot, her mind, the context. Dark hair. Angular, too-gorgeous-for-words face. Aquamarine eyes. Big, muscular body with long legs, wearing nothing but jeans and a T-shirt. A tremor rumbled through her, giving her a bad case of the shakes.
All right. All clear. No need to flip out, uh...again. Identification confirmed. It was definitely MacCord, the sexy-as-hell cop who never called her back.
“God, Detective, you...” Taking a breath, she trailed off. The adrenaline rush faded, pushing tears into her eyes.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s me...Mac,” he said, his tone full of reassurance. Reaching out, he caught her tear on the edge of his thumb and wiped it away. “You’re all right.”
“All right?” she repeated, incredulity spiking as her heart hammered. Concern in his eyes, he cupped her cheek, touched her skin, anchoring her with a gentle caress. Tania’s brows snapped together. What the heck did he think he was doing? Soothing her? After scaring the crap out of her? Well...nah-uh. Not calling her back was one thing. No way he was getting a free pass for this one. Gasping in outrage, she whacked him, smacking his hand away from her face. “All right! Have you lost your flipping mind?”
“Tania—”
“You son of a bitch! Where the hell did you come from? And why haven’t you called? You could’ve just picked up the phone, instead of tearing my door off.” Yup. No doubt about it. Lunatics-R-Us had nothing on her, because...crap on a crumpet. Her car and the gaping wound in its side were the least of her problems. Her first clue? Mac and his flying squirrel act onto the top of her Mini. Add that to the fact he now sat scrunched next to her—knees jammed against the dashboard, taking up all her breathing room—and...
Jeez. The entire situation qualified as certifiable.
“You stupid...” Glaring at him, she punched him on the shoulder. He flinched and mumbled something she didn’t quite catch. Unable to help herself, she wound up again...whap! “Idiot. You scared me!”
“I know, honey,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Defending himself from her onslaught, he grabbed her arms. Heat rolled from his palms to encircle her wrists. God, he had big hands. Made sense. He was a big guy. At least six and a half feet of smell-good, feel-right sizzle with eyes the color of a tropical sea and...
Tania blinked. Jumping Jehoshaphat. What was her problem? He’d just scared ten years off her life, and what was she doing? Leaning toward him instead of away. Enjoying his warm, masculine scent as he wrapped her up, holding both of her hands in one of his. She should’ve felt trapped. Instead, his touch calmed her down, helping her heart slow and her nerves settle.
Which was completely deranged. In every way that counted.
Needing her sanity back, Tania tugged on her wrists. “Let go.”
“You gonna hit me again?”
“Maybe.”
Amusement sparked in his eyes. His mouth curved. “Honest to a fault. I like that about you.”
Tania’s eyes narrowed. Enjoyed that, did he? She gritted her teeth, determined not to be charmed. But wow...he was dangerous when he smiled. “So glad I could make your day. Now...let. Me. Go.”
When he didn’t move, she added a “please” for good measure. He held firm, ignoring her, the heat of his hands caressing her skin. Making her react and shiver...and want. Frickin’-frackin’ guy didn’t know when to quit. Or how to look ugly.
Too bad, really. She could’ve used the break. Especially since her pheromones refused to cooperate, cool off, and acknowledge that she was angry at him.
“I’m sorry I scared you.” He took a deep breath, his expression moving from amused to serious in a heartbeat. “If I could’ve done it another way, I would have, but right now we need to go. It isn’t safe here.”
Unease skittered down her spine. “What’s going on?”
“Drive, honey.”
The rhythmic sound of the wipers whispering in the quiet, Tania hesitated. Should she trust him? Did she dare or even want to? The question circled, her uncertainty hanging between them as she tried to decide. He’d come out of nowhere. Landed on the roof of her car, for goodness’ sake. Only an idiot would go anywhere with him, but maybe that’s exactly what she was...a dum-dum, because he seemed solid to her.
Felt trustworthy. Felt right sitting next to her, as though he belonged there, as though she should accept him and his help...even though she didn’t know why she needed it.
And oh boy. Had she said lunatic earlier? Put a capital L in front of it, a few exclamation points behind it and...ding-ding-ding. All she needed now were admission papers to the psych ward and a straightjacket to complement the crazy.
The pad of his thumb stroked over the inside of her wrist. Goose bumps rose on her skin as he brushed over her pulse point, back and forth, again and again. Time stopped, one second slipping into the next. Suspended with him, she held his gaze. An image flared in her mind’s eye, one of him holding her, of her kissing him back; the intensity of heat and longing coupled with unbelievable pleasure.
A warm curl of sensation settled woman-low. Tania drew in a long breath. He mirrored her, inhaling deep, humming low in his throat, ramping up her reaction until it felt real instead of manufactured. Her brows collided. Impossible. She’d only met him once...she nibbled on the inside of her lip...right?
Yes. Absolutely. At the precinct when he’d questioned her about Myst.
Except with his hands on her, she couldn’t discount the connection or deny the attraction. Not with the unmistakable throb of recognition stealing through her. Something strange had happened between them. All right, so she couldn’t quite capture the memory or place it...at least, not all of it...but it was there, lying in wait, feeding her information, painting a picture of them entwined. On a bed. Him, surrounding her. Her, begging for more.
God help her. She knew him. Really knew him.
Tania swallowed, worry nagging at her. “Detective—”
“It’s Mac,” he murmured, uncurling his fingers from around her wrists. As his hands slid away, taking his heat with them, Tania tried not to mourn the loss. “I’m not a cop anymore.”
Not a cop? “What happened?”
She needed to know. Wanted to make the right decision. Drive into town and drop him off? Or go with him? It was hard to know which way to jump. Away from him? Toward him? A tingle crept across the tops of her shoulders. She wanted to trust him. She really did, but a lifetime of hurt—of disappointment and betrayal, of watching her mother make mistake after mistake with men—squawked, warning her to be careful. To look before she leaped.
“Tania, trust me,” he murmured. “We need to go...right now.”
The deep timbre of his voice washed over her, chilling her out, ramping her up. But it was the urgency she heard in his words and the worry she saw in his eyes that got her moving. She put her foot on the clutch and pressed the pedal to the floor. “You’re freaking me out, you know that?”
“Go.” Palming the shifter, he put it into first gear, urging her to move the car from standstill i
n the middle of the road to rolling. “I’ll explain later.”
“Promise?”
“Cross my heart.”
And just like that—with nothing more than his word and the steadiness of his aquamarine gaze—she tossed reason and a lifetime of caution out the window. But as she put her foot down and her faith in him, instinct spiked, telling her to watch out. Something wasn’t quite right. Mac was different somehow: more focused, brutally intense, stronger in mind and body. Weird that she could feel it, but...
No doubt. She could absolutely feel the shift in him.
Sneaking a peek, she scanned his profile and swung around the last curve—speeding down the hill into Gig Harbor, city lights spread out like a carpet of glitter below her, wind blowing through the missing door to tug at her hair—and prayed she’d made the right decision.
Intuition told her yes. Logic said no.
Too bad she was already neck-deep and sinking fast. With an ex-cop turned...well, she didn’t know exactly. But one thing for sure? She knew serious trouble when she saw it. An insanity-fueled, curiosity-driven mistake...that’s what Mac was. And one Tania hoped she lived to regret.
Wind whistled in through the side of the car, blasting Mac in the face. His hair blew into his eyes. He stared at Tania through the strands before raking a hand through it, shoving the pain-in-the-ass load out of the way to improve his view. Shit. He needed to do something about that, like get a haircut...along with a new brain.
His was obviously malfunctioning.
The same thing happened every time he laid eyes on her. Okay. So he was exaggerating, but not by much. The first time he’d been at the precinct, watching her pace from behind the two-way mirror. Angela had teased him about his dumb-ass reaction. Too bad his partner wasn’t around right now. He could’ve used a healthy dose of “you’re an idiot.” ’Cause, yeah, he was doing it again, gawking at her, reacting to Tania in ways that launched ridiculous into a whole new category.
Fury of Seduction Page 8
