by Diana Palmer
“Learning how to break somebody’s arm would do nicely,” she said, smiling.
He shivered. “As long as it isn’t mine!”
“Would I damage my friend?” she chided. “Shame on you!”
They went to the gym, and Lang was aware, as Kirry wasn’t, that they were being followed again. He wanted nothing more than to stop the car and get out, and beat the devil out of Erikson. But that would be playing right into the man’s hands. He had to play a cool and careful hand here, or he could put Kirry in even more danger.
Meanwhile, it was going to be a very good idea to teach her some damaging moves.
They did the warm-up exercises, and went through the hand positions. Then Lang began to teach her escape maneuvers.
“This is boring,” she muttered when he had her break a chokehold for the tenth time.
“Pay attention,” he replied tersely. “This isn’t a game. Pretend that it’s for real, and act accordingly.”
She tried to, but her hands were getting tired.
“Okay, honey, if this is the only way I can get through to you…”
His hands tightened, and he moved in with a menacing expression. Kirry panicked, but she kept her nerve. Using the technique he’d taught her, she broke his handhold around her neck, stepped in, broke his balance and pushed him neatly onto the mat.
He rolled as gracefully as a ball, got to his feet in a combat stance and rushed her, his hand rising sharply in a side hand position. He gave a harsh, sharp yell and brought his hand down.
Kirry did what came naturally. She threw her hands over her face and screamed.
There were chuckles from the other side of the gym, from men who’d seen Lang use that shock tactic on young cops he was training, years ago.
Kirry caught her breath and swatted angrily at Lang. “You animal!” she raged. “That wasn’t fair!”
“People are born with two natural fears,” he informed her. “Fear of sudden, sharp noises and fear of falling. A sharp cry can temporarily paralyze, as you saw. That’s one of the methods I like to teach. Sometimes just the yell is enough to buy you some time.”
“It’s very unpleasant to be on the receiving end of it!”
“I don’t doubt it. But getting used to the idea of an attack might save you one day.”
She saw his point. She was still getting her breath, and her heartbeat was frantic.
“Had enough?” he taunted, bringing back her fighting spirit.
“Not on your life,” she told him shortly. “If you can take it, I can take it. Do your worst!”
He proceeded to, grinning all the way.
6
Kirry slumped beside Lang on the mat after an hour of exercises in breaking handholds, balance and repelling attacks. She could barely breathe at all, and every bone in her body felt as if it had taken a beating.
“Giving up?” he teased.
“Only for the moment,” she said, panting. Her face was red and her hair was all awry. Lang thought she looked like a charming urchin.
“Remember the day we went swimming in the river?” he reminded with a gentle smile. “You almost drowned because you wouldn’t admit that you couldn’t last long enough to get across. I had to tow you back.”
“I almost made it,” she said, recalling the incident.
“And on the way back,” he said, lowering his voice as he bent to stare into her eyes, “your top came off.”
She felt the impact of his gaze as she’d felt it that day, when she’d experienced her first intimacy. Lang’s eyes on her bare breasts had made her blush all over, had made her heart run like a mad thing. He hadn’t embarrassed her, or made fun of her plight. He’d lifted her very slowly out of the water and looked at her; just that, then he’d put her back down, found her top and turned his back while she put it on again. It had been so natural and tender that she’d never regretted the experience.
“I remember the look on your face most of all,” he continued quietly. “You were shocked and delighted and excited, all at the same time. An artist would have gone nuts trying to capture your expressions.”
“It was the first time,” she replied simply. “I was all those things. Of course, it wasn’t unique for you.”
“Wasn’t it, Kirry?” He wasn’t smiling, and his eyes were dark with secrets.
She averted her face. “Well, it was a long time ago. We’re different people now.”
He thought of all the places he’d been, all the adventures he’d had. He thought about the close calls and Kirry’s laughing eyes, suddenly filled with tears because he wouldn’t believe her the one time when it really mattered.
“I failed you,” he said aloud.
“You wouldn’t have been happy tied to me,” she said, looking back at him. “You wanted your freedom too badly. That’s why it didn’t work out for you with me or Lorna.”
His eyes narrowed. “Lorna was different,” he said shortly. “She knew from the beginning that I wasn’t interested in marriage, and she took me on those terms. But I never laid any conditions on the line with you. I didn’t even really rule out marriage at first.”
“Until you thought I’d slept with Chad.” She finished the thought for him. “And that hurt your pride more than your heart.”
“Love comes hard to some men, Kirry.” He searched her eyes for a long moment. “And settling down…” His voice trailed off as he remembered, without wanting to, his own childhood.
“I knew you weren’t ready.” She dredged up a smile. “And despite the fact that you’d proposed, I wouldn’t have married you, knowing that you really wanted the Company more than me. It was nice to pretend, though.”
“Kirry,” he began slowly, “I asked you once how you’d feel about trying again. You never really answered me. I wasn’t kidding.”
Her heart leaped, but her expression was wary. “I don’t know, Lang.”
“We could start from where we left off,” he told her. “You’re a woman now, not a girl just past adolescence. We can have a full relationship, without any of the hang-ups.”
“You mean, we could sleep together, don’t you?” she asked bluntly.
He stretched out his leg and studied it, not looking at her. “Yes. That’s what I mean.”
“I thought so.” She reached into her bag for her shoes and socks and began putting them on, without answering.
“Well?” he asked shortly.
Her eyebrows lifted. “Well, what?”
“How would you feel about starting over?”
“I don’t like glueing broken mirrors back together,” she told him. “And you know how I feel about sleeping around already.”
“It wouldn’t be sleeping around,” he said angrily. “You’d only be sleeping with me.”
“For how long, Lang?” she asked matter-of-factly, her green eyes boring into his. “Until you had your fill?”
He saw the bitterness in her eyes. “You’re twisting my words.”
“No, I’m not. You need a woman, and I’m handy,” she said, her eyes glittery with anger. “Thanks. Thanks a heck of a lot, Lang. It’s so flattering to have a man look at me and see a half-hour’s entertainment!”
She got to her feet and so did he, feeling frustrated and angry. She wouldn’t let him finish. It seemed as if she didn’t want him to make any serious propositions. On the other hand, she didn’t want or love him enough to settle for just him, without the promise of permanent ties. That had always been the barrier between them, and it was still firmly in place. Kirry didn’t trust him.
“Let me tell you something,” she continued hotly, “when I want a man to sleep with, I’ll find my own. And it won’t be some hotshot with a string of ex-lovers! I wouldn’t sleep with you if you had a medical certificate signed by the surgeon general!”
She picked up her bag and walked past him toward the entrance.
“Hold it right there,” he said when he caught up with her and blocked her way. His face was livid, but he was in perfect
control of his temper. “You go nowhere without me at night, or have you forgotten your ‘other’ beau?”
She hesitated. Anger suddenly became less important than the fact that Erikson could be out there waiting for her.
“I’m glad you’ve used your sense,” Lang replied curtly. “Wait until I’ve changed and I’ll take you home. After that, except for doing my job, you and I are quits. Happy?”
“Ecstatic,” she said with a forced careless smile. “I don’t have to have a man in my life. I get along very well on my own.”
“So do I,” he responded. “But if I get desperate, there’s always Lorna. And she was never the old-fashioned type.”
With that parting stroke, which went right through her heart, he sauntered off to get changed. Just as she thought, he was going back to Lorna. Well, he needn’t think that she was going to stand around bleeding to death emotionally because he couldn’t make a commitment.
She stared down at the gi bag with dead eyes. She’d hoped that Lang might be different, but those years abroad hadn’t changed his basic attitudes at all. He still didn’t need anyone in his life permanently, while Kirry couldn’t survive a loose relationship. She was too intense, too possessive to live with the constant knowledge that she was just a pastime. Lang would take her for granted, use her and cast her off like a worn-out shoe. And where would she be then? With her heart broken all over again, that’s where.
Lang was back five minutes later. He looked fresh and cool despite the frantic activity of the past hour. Kirry, by comparison, felt sticky and sweaty. She followed him out to the car in silence and climbed in on the passenger side.
With quiet caution, Lang checked the car out before he got in and started it. Even in his present mood, he couldn’t let himself forget how unbalanced Erikson was. A man like that was a cunning enemy. It wouldn’t do to become lax.
He left Kirry at her door with a good-night that was just barely civil—like hers to him—and went to bed uncommonly early. He hadn’t wanted to start a fight with her over the past or the present. He wanted to settle down; it was why he’d come back here in the first place.
But Kirry wouldn’t listen. Perhaps she didn’t want to. Her career might be all she needed now, and just because she was jealous of Lorna, that didn’t ensure that she was in love with him.
He’d exaggerated his relationship with Lorna, just to irritate Kirry. Lorna had been a delightful fling years ago, and she’d no more been serious than Lang had. She was still a pretty woman, and he found her attractive. But Kirry had his heart. The thing was, she didn’t want it anymore. Even less did she want him. That was what had angered him so much, when just looking at her made him go rigid with desire.
Well, he wasn’t going to worry himself into a fit about it. He’d cross the bridges when he came to them. He rolled over and closed his eyes. What he needed now was sleep. Plenty of sleep.
For days on end, there was no sign of Erikson at all. It was a shock to Kirry, who looked for him everywhere with nervous apprehension. But as time went by, and there were no more phone calls or surveillance from him, she slowly became complacent. She was happy, too, because she believed that he’d given up. Maybe he’d put it all into perspective and decided that harassing her wasn’t worth the possible cost to himself. It even made sense—if he wasn’t playing some psychological game with her, that was, lulling her into a false sense of security. She grew cautiously optimistic, though, when nothing happened.
Erikson’s absence was the only thing that gave her cause for pleasure, however, because she’d landed Lorna’s account. That meant she had to spend considerable amounts of time with Lorna, who was now dating Lang again. And Lorna apparently felt obliged to share every little detail with Kirry.
“I do like the idea of making this ribbon-cutting appearance, dear,” Lorna purred as they conferred over a business lunch. “But it mustn’t interfere with my private life. They’ll simply have to change it to the afternoon. Lang is taking me to the opera.”
Kirry didn’t betray her feelings by even the batting of an eyelash, but she was certain that the durable plastic smile she reserved for Lorna was going to be on her lips when she was buried.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she promised the other woman, mentally anticipating being cussed out royally by the business in question. She would have to do some really fast talking to get them to agree to what Lorna wanted. Even then, they might not cooperate.
“Good. And one more thing, Kirry. Is it absolutely necessary for you to have an apartment next door to Lang’s?” she asked with visible irritation. “It seems to inhibit him when we’re together.”
“He moved next door to me because of the threats an ex-employee here was making,” she told Lorna. She didn’t mention that Lang made sure she heard him bringing Lorna to his apartment every other night. Or that hearing the two of them laughing next door, after midnight, had left her sleepless for the past four days. “Since the threat no longer seems to exist, I don’t see why Lang couldn’t move back to his old place.” In fact, she’d be delighted if he left. Then she would at least be spared the audible evidence of Lang’s pleasure in Lorna’s company.
“I knew you’d agree! I told him it wouldn’t hurt your feelings if I made the suggestion to you! Men are such cowards about women’s emotions, aren’t they?”
So she’d been discussing it with Lang, had she? Kirry was as angry as she was hurt. “He might have asked me himself,” she said.
“Oh, he couldn’t bring himself to do that.” Lorna dismissed it. “But when I tell him, he’ll be pleased.”
“I’m sure he will.”
“Now, about the network coverage, do you think you could get CNN to come…?”
By the end of the day, Kirry was totally washed-out. She couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so bad.
Lang had stopped by just briefly, a stranger with his cold face and eyes. He hardly spoke to her at all lately unless he had to. He was remote and polite. She knew that he was still keeping her under surveillance for her safety’s sake, but there was nothing personal about it, and no warmth in him. Kirry grieved all over again for the past. Why couldn’t he have stayed out of her life? she wondered miserably.
He’d stuck his head into her office door just to tell her that she’d be on her own that one afternoon, as he was to meet Lorna at a local restaurant for a quick dinner. He cautioned her about watching out for Erikson, which led to a heated exchange of words. It was a relief when he left. She could function, she told herself, without someone shadowing her. She really felt that way. Until she got to her car.
Erikson was sitting in the front seat. She came to a sudden halt and gaped at him. He was back. She wasn’t safe. He hadn’t given up. She could have cried. It was going to start all over again, and she felt her stomach tying itself in knots as she wondered how she was going to cope with this.
“Hello, sweet thing,” he said with a cold smile. “Did you think I’d forgotten you?”
“Get out of my car!”
“Make me,” he challenged.
She knew better than to try that. Erikson was a trained security officer. Her few hold-breaking routines might work on a novice, but he probably had a colored belt, and hers was still white. Knowing when to back off was as important, Lang had once told her, as knowing when to attack. And you never attacked; you waited for the opponent to come at you, which gave you the advantage. All these thoughts worked through her mind while she stared at the man occupying her car. “Okay, Mr. Erikson. I’ll let the police extricate you for me.”
She turned and went quickly back toward the building, red-faced with temper. As she got to the door, she heard a car door slam. She whirled. Erikson had left her car and was on the way to his. As she watched, he got into it and drove slowly away, tooting the horn as he reached the corner.
For a moment she wavered, wondering if she should call the police anyway. But it would hardly do any good, when he was no longer there.
She walke
d back to her car and opened the door, just in time to see the grenade on the floorboard. She gasped and started to step back, but it exploded. She covered her eyes instinctively, expecting the concussion to knock her backward, but it was only a gas grenade. There was a loud noise that hurt her ears, then her car filled with noxious fumes and she got out of the way in time to escape everything except a stinging pain in her eyes and throat. The fumes made her cough.
It was the last straw. Damn Erikson! Sobbing with bad temper, she got into the building and called 911. Minutes later, two police officers arrived. Lang was just behind them.
He started toward her, grim-faced, but she resisted the need for comfort. She turned to the first police officer who reached her and told him exactly what had happened.
Lang stood by, his face hard and unreadable, and listened while she talked and then answered questions.
“He’s long gone, now,” she said miserably. “I didn’t think he’d try to hurt me….”
“If he’d wanted to do that, it would have been a hand grenade, not a gas grenade,” the young patrolman assured her. “But this qualifies under the terroristic threats and acts law, and we can also get him for breaking and entering.”
“If we can get any prints off the car,” an older officer amended quietly. He looked at Kirry. “Was he wearing gloves?”
She remembered Erikson’s hands on the wheel, and as they flashed into her consciousness, she remembered the black covering on them.
“Yes,” she said miserably.
“There goes the case. It’s your word against his,” the older man said.
“But…!”
“It’s the way the law’s written,” he said irritably. “None of us like it. Do you have any idea how many creeps prey on women and get away with it because we can’t do anything to help them? God, I’d give anything for a stalking law with teeth, but we haven’t got one yet! You aren’t the only victim, although I expect it feels that way right now.”
“It does.”
“Watch this guy,” the older police officer said suddenly. “You shouldn’t have been out here alone.”
