by Riser, Mimi
“Yeah, I suppose.” Tyler waited for the news, whatever it was, feeling the numbness grow heavier.
“Farrell said he finally finished Molly’s background report. Took him awhile to locate what she did before she was with your brother, but he found out, if you’re interested.”
“Let me guess. She was a burglar?” Did he really mean that as sarcastically as it sounded? Yes, Tyler was afraid he did. Although it was probably the truth, too.
Never trust a woman.
“No,” Barry said, ignoring the sarcasm. “She ran a Karate school. She’s a Black Belt.”
Tyler sighed. “Yeah, that would have been my second guess. She just kicked the crap out of the west wing guards, Butch Bronson and Dan Murdock.” Big men, both of them. “That’s why she has a ten-minute lead. It took them that long to regain consciousness and report what happened.”
“I’ll bet they feel dumb.” Those probing hazel eyes scarcely blinked. “So…what are you going to do?”
Good question. Tyler only had three real options. Let her go, let his security team handle it, or…
The image of a deliciously feminine little blonde taking on two brick-hard men in hand-to-hand combat flashed across his mind’s eye. He almost grinned. Damn, he’d have liked to see that. Talk about spunk.
The lead shroud lifted a bit.
More images rolled in on the heels of the first – memories of that same blonde taking on him in other “hand-to-hand” activities – and a fist squeezed inside his chest.
The shroud cracked like a sheet of ice shattering under a mallet blow, leaving him hurting and angry beneath. Not a pleasant sensation, but at least it was sensation. He wasn’t cold numb anymore. He could think and act again. And feel.
He knew what he had to do.
Three months…
He’d have those months, damn it. She’d wanted that stupid contract. She was going to stick to it if he had to drag her back by her braid.
“I’m going after her,” he said. “Just me. Contact Security and tell them to call off the dogs—”
Dogs?
Wait a minute, what had Wilson told him? Tyler racked his brain, straining to remember that fuzzy phone report. He blanched.
Oh, no…
His security team had, perhaps, been a tad overzealous tonight? Embarrassed, no doubt, by the ease with which Molly had stolen his diamonds and beat up Bronson and Murdock. Frankly, they were pissed – taking no more chances with her, Wilson had said. The James security team didn’t dick around. They knew from past experience their collective ass would be grass if they did, and that their boss would turn into a lawn mower. They hadn’t sent only men after Molly. They’d—
“Shit.” Tyler’s gaze went wild. “They turned loose the dogs.”
Real dogs. Large dogs. Dogs trained to track.
And attack.
Holy fucking shit—
He lunged down the hall.
“Call them off!” he yelled to Barry. “I don’t care how they do it, but get those dogs away from her – now!”
Chapter 12
12:26…
Sidestep, whirl, leap, kick – almost like a dance, but to the music of thuds and grunts. None of them hers, thankfully. Molly was out of practice, but so, it seemed, were the guards. If this was the best the James security team could do, she wasn’t impressed. She spun and kicked again, and the last of her pursuers crumpled unconscious to the ground. He and his buddy were going to have nasty headaches when they awoke. Poor guys. She’d apologize to them later. If allowed the chance.
Scanning the area, finding it clear, she took off running. Dry earth crunched under her feet as she raced across the private airfield, the last barrier between her and the open prairie where the dugout lay. Ahead loomed a hanger, behind which Carlotta and André should be waiting if all had gone smoothly on their end.
The trio had split up after leaving the boys’ suite, Carlotta to change clothes, André to deliver the twins to the girls, and Molly – following Carlotta’s directions – to grab the ransom. The directions had worked, mostly, and a glittering fortune now sat safely stashed in a small pouch in the pocket of her jeans.
She skidded to a stop and breathed out in relief when she saw the pair at the far end of the hanger, leaning against the back wall, André with his ponytail and pink boots…and his camera still slung around his neck. Marvy.
Carlotta looked surprisingly natural and unfashionable in an outfit that almost matched Molly’s. Black pullover, faded jeans, and battered tennies. Who’d have thought she owned such attire? Her glamorous red hair she’d tucked up under a scarf tied on gypsy-fashion, and she held a state-of-the-art flashlight in each hand, but they wouldn’t need them with a clear sky and full moon overhead.
The Queen of the Heavens beamed out like a beacon, turning the scrubby terrain beyond the airfield into a magical patchwork of silver light and mysterious grays. Soul stirring eerie beauty. A moon bright enough to cast shadows. Imagine that. Molly stole a precious few seconds to turn her face to it, soaking in its soft power, calling for courage and strength, asking for the safety of her missing boy. A Witch’s prayer, born of a woman’s need to protect her own.
A desperate woman, once more playing a desperate game. Tyler did have a knack for driving her to extremes, didn’t he? To whore, then jewel thief in one night. It shocked her to consider how easily she’d fallen into both roles. Especially the first. What on earth had she been thinking when she dreamed up that contract?
Protecting the boys. The same thing she was doing now.
Yes, of course, that was the only reason. It had nothing to do with testing the magic between her and Tyler, exploring the passion, seeing if it could outlast Carlotta’s predicted time limit.
Hell, even if it did last, there had to be more to a relationship than passion. How about mutual respect, friendship, sharing the same interests and ideals? All the things she’d had with Steve…and could never have with his brother. She and Tyler faced life from opposite ends. They wanted and believed in opposite things. Three months, three years, even three centuries wouldn’t change that.
An asinine idea, her business contract had been. Pure grabbing at straws, hoping for the impossible, when she knew better. And he’d probably cancel it now anyway, since she’d stolen his diamonds. How she’d hang on to the boys at this point… Crap. She had to get Stevie back safely first. Then worry about the rest.
Mentally kicking herself into action, she sprinted the length of the hanger to the figures at the end. André greeted her with a bright smile and a brighter flash, but Molly was ready for that.
“You closed your eyes!” he complained, then snapped his mouth shut at his companion’s glower.
“I’ll close your eyes permanently, if you don’t stop taking pictures,” Carlotta threatened. “Him and that damn camera.”
“So? It is what I do.” Andre chuckled and shrugged. “My little fashionista is angry because I photographed her in her très chic hiking ensemble.”
“Twelve times.” Carlotta sighed. “But the last six were only to annoy me.” She turned an aggrieved gaze to Molly. “I was afraid you’d never get here. What happened? Were the diamonds not where I thought? Did something go wrong?”
Only if you counted a pair of unconscious bodies as “something wrong.”
Molly gave her a weak smile. “The diamonds were where you said they’d be, in the wall safe behind the Picasso in the library. And you remembered the combination right.”
“I should hope so.” Carlotta’s cat-grin appeared. “Ty used my birthday for it.”
Terrific. Molly really needed to know that. How many other reminders of ex-wives did Tyler keep lying around? With his backlog of marriages, a ton probably. Not that she cared. Much. This little reminder just reminded her she’d never be anything more than another notch on his bedpost – even if it felt now like he’d carved that notch into her heart.
“I was worried he might have changed the safe, or at least ch
anged the combination,” Carlotta said, looking relieved that he hadn’t.
After André had led off the twins, Molly had been able to fill her in, briefly, on why the diamonds were needed. It seemed only fair since she was making the woman an accessory to the crime. She’d better fill her in on the rest of it now.
Cough.
“Um, no. As far as I could tell, the only thing he’s changed is the security system. I turned off the safe’s alarm the way you told me, but they…ah, must have added some hidden surveillance cameras or something. Two guards surprised me when I ran out the back of the house. They obviously knew I was coming and were waiting.”
“Ai dios mio—”
“Oh, it was all right. I surprised them even more.” Molly grinned. “I know Karate. Apparently, they don’t.”
Carlotta returned the grin. “How very careless of Tyler. His security men used to be far sharper than that.”
“And I missed this?” André slapped his hands against his head. “What photos I could have made! What art! The expressions on their faces must have been extraordinaire!”
That was one way of putting it, Molly supposed. The grin disappeared as she glanced from André to Carlotta. “Stealing the diamonds was bad enough, but I’ve just added assault and battery to the crime. I really don’t want to involve you two any further. Just point me in the right direction, and I’ll find the dugout on my own.”
“Not a chance, chica. Even if I thought you could find it, André and I wouldn’t let you go alone. Tyler will know we’re involved anyway. If nothing else, he’ll guess I’m the one who gave you the combination.”
Straightening her scarf, Carlotta stepped away from the cover of the hanger’s wall and hit the open scrub land with an easy, swinging stride, leaving Molly nothing to do but run to catch up. Scattered clumps of knee-high dried grasses rasped against their jeans, and sun-baked clay soil scrunched beneath their shoes. A sudden burst of brilliance brought a split second of harsh noonday to the moonlit midnight world.
Carlotta jerked to a halt and spun about. André, several paces behind her, released his camera, letting it dangle from its strap around his neck, and met her glare with wide-eyed innocence. She stalked forward and shoved the flashlights she carried at him.
“Here. I doubt we’ll need these, but hold on to them just in case.”
“Why me?” Sputtering indignantly, he waved the two cylinders in the air. “How can I make my pictures with these filling my hands?”
“That’s the idea.” She executed a neat about-face and resumed the lead.
Molly fell into step beside her while André heaved a dramatic sigh and tagged along on their heels, grumbling exotic invectives under his breath.
“Speaking of Tyler…” Molly’s stomach knotted at the thought. “Just how, um…angry do you think he’ll be?”
“Knowing Ty, very. Anger is the one emotion he does well.” Carlotta’s laughter mixed with the whispering of the weeds. “But don’t worry about it. He puts on a good loud show, but his bark is worse than his bite.”
Molly wished she could believe that, wished she had the slightest reason to trust the man, but he hadn’t given her any yet. More like the opposite. He must have been angry that she’d flown here in the first place – in his private jet, no less, and without an invitation. He was certainly angry over their contract. And now she’d thwarted him again.
With three strikes against her, she was probably “out.” The male ego could take only so much, and Tyler’s ego was king-sized. He hated to lose, and she kept beating him at his own games. It would be too much to hope that he’d want her around after tonight. Not that she wanted him either, of course. She was only thinking of the boys.
And maybe if she kept telling herself that, she’d believe it.
Eventually.
Heartache and headache hit simultaneously. She suppressed a groan as she hustled to match Carlotta’s brisk pace over the rugged ground. The woman walked like a pro. Nothing slowed her, not even that patch of prickly pear cactus Molly almost stumbled into.
Damn, maybe I should watch where I’m going?
Easier said than done when she was thinking about where she was going. The dugout first – a gut-wrenching thought. Stevie had better be there and unhurt, or someone would get a large dose of instant Karma.
What goes around, comes around.
And in this case, she would be what “came around.”
Where she went afterward… That involved the boys, too, and was just as gut-wrenching to consider. Tyler had never wanted her to have custody. He’d yielded only because he wanted something else more. Her. But if he’d changed his mind on that…
They were back to square one, weren’t they? He’d threatened once already to send her packing. Given her actions tonight, he could conceivably pack her off to prison.
Would he stoop so low?
He’d been shameless enough to use children as a bargaining chip, hadn’t he? An Eagle Scout, he wasn’t (regardless of his skill with knots). And if he wanted to keep her away from the kids, incarceration would sure do the trick. If the law would cooperate. Who knew the legalities at work here. Was it still theft if you stole something to pay a kidnapping ransom? Sorta put a whole new slant on “robbing Peter to pay Paul,” didn’t it?
A high warbling howl suddenly rose out of the night. Other howls answered it, filling the air, spectral voices weaving together in haunting harmonies.
Molly stopped dead in her tracks, pulling the others to a halt with her.
Carlotta cocked her head, entranced, her eyes glowing in the moonlight. “Listen. A coyote chorus. I’d forgotten how beautiful they sound.”
“Beautiful?” André shuddered. “They sound like the cries of the damned.”
You’re both right, Molly thought. The chorus was beautiful, yes. Also eerie. Music to prickle one’s back hairs. A warning was what it sounded like. As she stood scanning the prairie and listening, new voices joined the song, sharp and shrill, freezing the blood in her veins to ice.
The baying of hounds.
“Ai dios mio!” Carlotta slapped the heels of her hands against her head. “So much for our stealth. They’ve released the dogs! What are those idiots thinking?”
Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed Molly by the arm. “Look.” She pointed and spoke quickly. “You see that line of mesquite trees up ahead? There’s a gully, a dried creek bed, right behind them, and on the opposite bank is the dugout. You’ll have to find it yourself, after all.”
“Why? What are you going to do?” Molly turned with the question, but Carlotta had already taken off at a trot back the way they’d just come.
“I’m going to shoo those mutts back to their kennel!” she called over her shoulder. “They know me, so I’m the only one of us who has a chance of stopping them.”
Chance? Which meant what? That there was also a chance she couldn’t stop them, a chance they might rip her to shreds?
Good Goddess…
“Do not worry. She has knives hidden all over her,” André said, but he looked pretty darned worried himself.
He glanced from Molly to Carlotta’s retreating figure and back again, a man racked between desire to play the protector for one woman and just plain desire for the other. Too bad he couldn’t take a photo of himself. If the expression of emotion was what he sought, his own expression right then was an artistic goldmine, a bittersweet portrait of pain.
André D’Leon was obviously head over hot pink boot heels in love, and Molly knew it wasn’t with her. The lady he wanted no longer believed in romantic love, only passion, and that for a limited duration. Hence, the pain. Poor André.
“Go on, go with her.” She gestured for him to follow Carlotta. “I’ll be fine on my own. Really.”
Hell, he can’t come all the way to the dugout with me anyway.
André hesitated, the evident victim of an internal tug-of-war. His native chivalry, flamboyant but very sincere, pulled him in two directions. B
ut since he couldn’t split himself down the middle, and Molly was urging him away, he finally gave in to his deeper desire. Flinging the flashlights aside, he charged after the woman he loved.
“I will see that Carlotta makes it safely to the house, then return to help you!” he promised.
Please, no. The man sounded like a full cavalry as he crashed through the brush.
Molly watched for an anxious instant, then spun about and raced toward the trees while all hell broke loose behind her. André wasn’t the only one flattening weeds back there. The noise of barks and shouts nipped at her heels, spurring her into a reckless speed over unfamiliar terrain.
“Molly! Watch out—”
“Ai dios mio—”
“Monsieur James, I shall thank you to get off of my woman— Arrgh! The beast bit me!”
Which beast? Tyler?
Sound did carry out here, didn’t it? If she could hear the commotion, maybe so could the kidnapper? A terrifying maybe.
Goddess, no…
Stevie! She had to reach him in time—
Heart pounding, ears ringing with yelps and confusion, Molly barged through the thorny mesquites – and almost broke her neck falling into the gully, which appeared sooner than she’d anticipated. Gasp! She lay on the bottom, blurry and stunned, fighting to hang on to consciousness. A hard battle, but brief.
She lost.
Chapter 13
Tyler picked himself up off the prairie, pulling Carlotta with him. He’d just tackled her, thinking she was Molly. Thinking he was shielding her from three out-of-control canines. Out of control because they’d scented the woman who’d cuddled and coddled them as puppies. They hadn’t been attacking, just bounding forward to greet her. The three furry stooges, they looked like now, staring at her with adoring eyes and big doggy grins, while the two security guards who’d rashly unleashed them hung back, looking equally foolish.
Tyler stared, too, but not nearly so happily as the hounds. Well, hell, she and Molly were about the same size, plus she was dressed the way Wilson had said Molly was, and with that scarf covering Carlotta’s signature red hair…
