The Heat Is On

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The Heat Is On Page 15

by Jill Shalvis


  So Bella said nothing as Trevor pulled her over to the far double glass doors. There, he pressed his thumb to a small screen, and the doors clicked open. “New security,” he said proudly, and pulled her through. “You have to be a boat owner or on file as a guest to get to the docks.”

  Bella dragged her feet along the dock. All she knew was that she didn’t want to get on the sailboat. If she did, and Trevor was able to get them out to sea, she was in big trouble. Maybe she could fall into the water, or just start screaming. Or—

  “Don’t,” Trevor said in her ear, his hand gripping hers hard.

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You’re thinking it.”

  She was. She was also thinking if she shoved him hard enough, he might fall in, and—

  “I’ll shoot you on my way down.”

  Yeah. Yeah, he probably would. Note to self: next time try to wade the psychos out of your friendship pool. “How do you possibly imagine you’re going to be able to keep me on the boat?”

  His eyes gleamed. “I have my ways.”

  Oh, good. He had his ways. Lucky her.

  “Don’t forget, Bella. You will behave.”

  Uh-huh. She’d get right on that.

  His Morgan sailboat was in the sixth of eight slots, with the last two being empty. No help there. It was blue and white with teakwood trim, and looked well loved and cared for.

  “Home sweet home,” Trevor said.

  She eyed the door that led to belowdecks, where there was undoubtedly a place he planned on restraining her. Her stomach cramped at the thought.

  Now or never, Bella…

  “Get on,” Trevor said.

  Stall. Run. Make a scene! “I’m hungry,” she said, albeit a little wildly. “We should go back and get some food—”

  “Get on now.”

  “But we need—”

  “I have everything you’ll ever need, Bella. Trust me.”

  Like hell. “I need sunscreen—50 SPF. I bet you didn’t get 50 SPF—”

  “Get. On.”

  He added a little shove to this command and it was either fall into the water or board.

  She took a big gulp of air, hoped a bullet couldn’t travel through water—probably if she’d paid better attention in high school physics class she might know this—and jumped off the dock.

  JACOB MADE IT TO THE marina in five minutes by running just about every red light and hitting Highway 1 at seventy-five miles per hour.

  When he pulled into the parking lot, Ethan was just getting out of his car, and they met up with a handful of others led by Ramon Castillo.

  “Trevor Mann’s boat is in slip D06,” Ethan told them, consulting his pad.

  The marina was large, and had five rows of docking that stretched into the bay like fingers. There were hundreds of boats, but not nearly as many people—the place looked completely deserted.

  As they stormed their way into the building toward the docks, a shot rang out in the air, echoing over the water.

  17

  THE MOMENT BELLA plunged into the water, she heard the shot ring out, and involuntarily screamed.

  Not a good idea underwater.

  She inhaled a cold lungful and promptly choked, forcing her back to the surface. She gasped quickly and plunged beneath again, bumping hard into the hull of the boat and knocking the air right out of herself. Good going, Bella. You get away from the crazy stalker and then try to help him kill you.

  Still beneath the water, she struggled with the strong urge to kick to the surface again, and just before she had to have air, someone splashed into the water next to her. Propelled by the momentum, again she hit the hull, hard. She didn’t scream this time, she didn’t have the air left. And she had even less when two hands grabbed her.

  Trevor.

  Oh, no. Hell, no. In that moment, her fear was replaced by fury. Because of Trevor, Jacob would think she’d run away, think she was yet another woman who didn’t believe he was worth fighting for. Because of Trevor, Willow would accept her skipping out as just part of her pattern. Because of Trevor, her chance to change had been taken away from her.

  So she fought back. Reaching up, she closed her hands around his throat, squeezing as hard as she could, which wasn’t hard enough.

  She was too weak, and this wasn’t going to work. Frustrated, she shoved him, trying to swim away down the narrow space between the slip and the boat.

  She heard a dull thud. Trevor’s hands fell from her neck, but before she could assimilate that, two more hands grabbed her and hauled her up to the surface.

  She came up swinging, and managed to get in a good punch to the gut.

  “Shit!” said someone who definitely wasn’t Trevor.

  Yet another set of arms slipped around her. “I’ve got her.”

  This voice she knew, and immediately she relaxed into the hard wall of muscle. “Jacob.”

  He hauled her in close, holding her above water. “I’ve got you, Bella. You’re safe.”

  She always was safe with him, she thought, blinking water out of her eyes as he lifted her up to someone on the dock already reaching for her.

  Ethan.

  He set her down but her knees were weak and she dropped to them. Directly in front of them was Trevor, facedown and being cuffed by a handful of uniformed men. He had blood flowing from a gash on the back of his head.

  “You knocked him off me.” She coughed as Jacob was pulling up out of the water.

  “No.” He dropped to his knees in front of her, running his hands over her as if he needed to make sure for himself that she was okay. “That was all you. You smashed his head against the concrete pillar under the dock. Nice going, by the way.”

  She stared at the boat that Trevor had planned to force her onto, the water she’d been pulled out of and then into Jacob’s eyes.

  “You did amazing,” he said softly, taking a blanket from a uniformed officer and tugging it around her shoulders. “You were in a bad situation and you kept your head. I’m so proud of you, Bella.”

  The words bathed her in desperately needed warmth. Weak and shaking from the adrenaline letdown, she dropped her head to his shoulder. She’d barely dragged in a breath before he wrapped his arms around her hard and shuddered. “I thought I’d lost you. I don’t want to ever lose you.”

  “I wasn’t leaving. Not willingly anyway.” She lifted her head, needing to see his face. “I didn’t want to leave you, Jacob. I know I was sending mixed signals, but that’s because I didn’t want to push you into this. I thought you weren’t ready, that you needed more time.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t need more time. I love you, Bella.”

  “I love you, too,” she whispered. She hadn’t gotten the words out before he lowered his head and kissed her.

  An EMT dropped beside them with his med kit. “She needs to be checked out, looks like she hit her head, too.”

  Yeah. Now that he mentioned it, she was feeling a little dizzy…

  Jacob looked deep into her eyes, his clouded with worry. “Stay with me,” he said, repeating her words from when he’d been shot back to her.

  “I’m okay,” she promised. “I’m not going to faint.”

  His laugh was nothing more than a breath against her temple. “I meant here. With me. Stay here with me. Because I want you with me more than anything else.”

  “You mean, here in Santa Rey?”

  “In Australia. In goddamn Timbuktu. I don’t care where, as long as we’re in the same place.”

  The warmth from the blanket and his own body continued to seep into her, but the warmth from his words penetrated even deeper, heating her from the inside out. “Yes, I’ll stay,” she breathed. “For as long as you want me.”

  His smile spread across his face. “That’s going to be a while. Forever a while.”

  “I can’t think of anything I could want more.”

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-6430-8

  THE HEAT IS ON

  Copyrig
ht © 2010 by Jill Shalvis.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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