Getting Lucky m-2

by Susan Andersen

  "Excuse me?" She slowly straightened, turning the shoe between her bound hands as she sat back up. "Did you say ugly !"

  " Si ." His lip curled up in a sneer. " Muy ugly."

  "You know," she said sweetly, "this has been a really crappy night. I put up with being dumped by my boyfriend, and I've been quite the sport, if I do say so myself, about being trussed like a turkey and thrown into this pigsty of a car by a self-important little chauvinist barely old enough to shave."

  He blinked, clearly confused by the disparity between her words and the tone in which she spoke them.

  "You think these shoes are dangerous?" she asked softly, favoring him with a great big friendly smile. "Let me show you just how dangerous they can be." And gripping the shoe between her hands like a high-fashion sap, she swung it with all her might at the young man's head.

  He threw an arm up, blocking a fraction of the impact. She figured that was probably a good thing— otherwise she might have driven the spiked heel clear through his temple, and that was simply too gross to contemplate. As it was, it still connected with considerable impact, making a nasty, meaty sound that made her stomach roil, and she watched him collapse like a sack of wet cement over the steering wheel. Dropping the shoe into her lap, she grabbed a fistful of his hair and hauled his head back, gratified to see he was out cold but still breathing. She let his head drop, and reached to pull the keys out of the ignition. Then she bent at the waist to work the shoe back onto her foot, but didn't take the time to try to fasten it. Straightening, she twisted to reach for the door handle.

  "Ugly, my Aunt Petunia," she snapped at his unconscious form. "I might've had to take all the other crap you idiots dumped on me tonight. But nobody, but nobody, junior, mocks my shoes and gets away with it."

  Zach checked the magazine in his pistol as he headed along the second floor hallway. Seeing the group in the foyer as he started down the stairs, he shoved in the clip, slid the safety on, and tucked the nine millimeter into his waistband at the small of his back. His departure from the parlor in the wake of his conversation with Magnusson had been more than abrupt, and he halted at the bottom of the stairs in front of his sister.

  "Okay, here's the deal. I have good reason to believe a South American with a grudge followed me up here and has abducted Lily. I want you to call the sheriff for me. Tell him the man's name is Miguel Escavez, and he's already approached Lily twice. Inform him he's probably driving a dark blue '83 Ford LTD with California plates." He recited the number.

  Glynnis looked sick. "Oh, God, Zach. Will he hurt her?"

  "I honestly don't think he will, Glynnie. But I'm operating under the assumption that he's dangerous all the same, and I promise you, I won't rest until we have her back."

  "I know you won't." She squared her shoulders. "How did your friend manage to find out what kind of car he's driving?"

  "Maggie said as soon as the word went around Pendleton that Escavez had skipped, a private came forward to volunteer that Miguel had won his car from him in a poker game."

  "Okay, let me make sure I've got this straight." She repeated the information back to him, including the license-plate number, with no-fuss efficiency.

  "Excellent." Hauling her into his arms, Zach gave her a brief hug, then held her at arm's length to look down at her. "The first time I met Lily, she told me you were a lot more grown up than I gave you credit for—and I can see that she was right. I'm real sorry I didn't do better by you, Glynnie."

  "What are you talking about? You can be a giant pain in the butt sometimes, but you have never let me down." Grasping his arms, she gave him a shake. "Now," she said briskly, "where will you look first?"

  "The ferry terminal. Does anyone have a schedule?"

  "If you leave in the next five minutes, you should be in time to check the dock before the eight-oh-five loads," Christopher said. "The boat after that, which is the last to leave the island tonight, is at ten-fifty."

  "Let Christopher and me check it out for you, though," David said. "Between us, we know most of the ticket takers, and we probably have a better chance than you of talking them into keeping Escavez's car off the boat if he's there."

  "Thanks." Zach gave them a brief description of Miguel, then pulled his keys out of his pocket. "I'll head back to Rosario and see if I can pick up a trail to follow from there. Glynnie, can I take your cell phone?"

  "You bet." She went into the parlor to collect it.

  When she returned an instant later she handed it to him with a scrap of paper containing two telephone numbers. "The top one is David's cell and the bottom number is for the phone here. Keep in touch. I'll contact the sheriff, then let both of you know what he says."

  Within moments the three men were climbing into their vehicles, and Zach followed David's car as it raced along the winding country roads. Reaching a crossroad, the other two men continued straight for the ferry dock, while Zach turned left onto Crow Valley Road to head to the east side of the island. Once alone, the hollow space in his gut began to spread, melting outward like a piece of old film caught in a projector. If anything happened to Lily—

  Every word they'd exchanged tonight as a result of her evening-altering declaration played back in his head. He'd told himself that while he clearly could have handled it better, his succinct, dispassionate summation had been necessary to let her know in no uncertain terms that he could never love her. But who the hell was he fooling? That excuse was so full of shit it was a wonder there wasn't a cloud of flies surrounding it.

  Lily had accused him of being afraid, and he'd blown the suggestion off. He wasn't a man who thought of himself as being afraid of anything that didn't result in death or dismemberment. But the truth was, he was terrified. He was scared right down to the ground that if he admitted to the feelings that had been growing ever since he'd realized how special she was—and then lost her when she discovered that he didn't have what it took to hold on to love—it would destroy him.

  How the hell had he managed to keep the truth from himself, though? He should have known the instant he'd awakened from his dream the other morning and found himself oddly comforted by her presence, realized when holding her had kept at bay the old familiar sense of abandonment the dreams usually left in their wake. He should have known when, beneath his towering relief upon discovering she couldn't possibly be pregnant, there had been the tiniest spark of disappointment that an excellent excuse for hanging on to her had been removed.

  Shit. On some level he had known. He just hadn't want to confront it. Exposing emotions was too much like ripping off your armor in the heat of battle. It left you wide open for the knife's plunge or a bullet's destructive, ripping force.

  But the raw fact remained, he acknowledged as he pulled into Rosario's parking lot for the second time that evening, that if anything happened to Lily tonight it would kill him every bit as much as it would have if he'd taken the chance and they'd lived together for months or years before she left him. The difference was, he would have had time to bask in her integrity, her honest sexuality, her sweetness.

  Right now he had nothing but too few memories.

  He didn't know what he expected to find by coming back here. He'd gone over the area pretty damn carefully earlier. But he'd been looking for her then; he hadn't been searching for a clue that might allow him to follow her trail. He headed along the path that led to the point.

  A few minutes later, he paused beneath the dense stand of trees to let his night vision establish itself away from the lights. This was pointless. He was following a concrete path, for crissake—it wasn't as if he'd find holes from her spike heels to lead him to her. Bending his head, he dug his fingers into the tight muscles knotting his neck.

  A second later he realized the darker shadow he stared at on the ground wasn't part of the tree trunk as he'd first assumed. He squatted and felt a hot zing in his gut when his fingers slid over the smooth leather of Lily's little purse.

  Slowly he straightened, the small hand
bag clutched in his hand. And an icy calm settled over his nerves.

  He couldn't afford to race around blind; he needed a plan. But before he could form one of those, he needed to know if Lily was still on the island. He pulled Glyn-nis's cell phone from his pocket and punched in David's number.

  "What have you found out?" he demanded the instant his future brother-in-law answered.

  "Chris is up checking every car that loads on the boat, but so far neither of us have seen one that fits the description of Escavez's. And no one remembers seeing either him or Lily."

  The rush of relief had Zach's spine bowing for a second. Then he pulled himself back upright. "That's good. The longer we can confine Escavez to the island, the better chance we have of finding Lily. And where I was ninety-nine percent certain he had her before, now I'm a hundred percent positive. I just found her purse under the trees near that little park on the point."

  The other man swore, and Zach said grimly, "As long as I'm over here, I'm going to drive through the park. It seems a logical place for Escavez to go."

  "Try Mount Constitution," David suggested eagerly.

  "There's a lookout tower up at the top—he might have headed up there for the night."

  "Thanks. I will. Have you heard from Glynnie?"

  "Not yet, but I'll call her to pass on your information, and one of us will get back to you."

  They disconnected, and Zach headed for his Jeep. He was torn. Most of him wanted Escavez to be somewhere in the park, since it was a specific place to search and his best bet for getting Lily back as soon as possible. But there was a fraction of him that remembered how much the place had frightened her the last time they'd been there. Then he stuffed everything except the need to concentrate into the back of his mind and drove up to the highway, where he turned toward the park.

  His sister called to let him know the sheriff's office would be on the look out for Escavez's car. With renewed purpose, he continued on, driving slowly and stopping to peer into anything large enough to shelter a car.

  When he rounded a slight bend and his headlights suddenly picked out Lily, carrying her shoes and limping along the shoulder of the road, he stood on the brakes and stared, unable for an instant to believe his eyes.

  Then sweet relief flooded his system. "Thank you, Jesus; thank you," he breathed.

  She stumbled to a halt and threw up her hands to block the light from her eyes, and rage exploded in his gut when he saw the cord binding her wrists together. But before he could react or even open the door to go to her, a look of pure panic flashed across her face. And, pivoting on her nylon-stocking-clad foot, she plunged off the road into the woods.

  Chapter 25

  LILY HAD SEEN TOO MANY SLASHER MOVIES.

  When the car lights found her by the side of the road she was so unnerved that the first thing to pop into her mind was the standard plotline of those films—woman gets hacked/slashed/chainsawed by resilient, utterly invincible killer. Fresh adrenaline roared through her and, since she'd already done the fight thing tonight, flight seemed the better choice.

  And the worst of it was, it was her own darn fault. It hadn't taken five minutes alone in the dark, after her escape from Miguel, for her to realize just how badly she'd screwed up. Rather than taking the car keys to prevent the young thug from gunning for her the moment he regained consciousness, she should have just shoved him out of the car and taken the vehicle for herself. This pockmarked, rock-strewn, pitch-black wilderness was no place for a city-bred woman—particularly not one whose hands were bound and whose feet had been shod in her highest pair of heels until she'd fallen flat on her face trying to run in them down the goat-path that passed for a road.

  Of course by the time she'd figured out her mistake, it had been too late to go back and rectify the matter. For all she knew Miguel might have already come to, and she hadn't wanted to be anywhere in the vicinity if that were the case. But after her second tumble to the rough ground, she'd started to rethink even that —until the vehicle with the blinding lights had slammed to a halt in front of her.

  That's when her fantasy of taking over Miguel's car with its sturdy, lockable doors vanished, and the young man—who in her mind had been growing increasingly more easily conquered—suddenly morphed into a monster with foot-long steel blade fingernails. Dear God, he'd found her! Gripped by terror, she didn't stop to wonder how he'd managed to get the car started or why he was approaching from the wrong direction. She simply turned tail and ran.

  Hearing her name called as she crashed through the underbrush unnerved her even more, but it was the sound of pursuit that really shot her panic up into the stratosphere. Ignoring the branches snagging her clothing and catching at her hair, she battled her way through the foliage, and when some small gleaming-eyed creature suddenly scurried in front of her before just as abruptly skittering out of her way, a sob pushed its way past the lump of terror clogging her throat.

  A rebounding branch she'd turned loose too quickly whipped back and thwacked her left elbow, and a battalion of pins-and-needles charged down a pathway of nerves to her fingertips. One of her shoes tumbled to the ground, but she didn't dare stop for it. Instead, she desperately tightened her grip on the remaining one. She didn't have a clue how effective it would prove as a weapon now that the element of surprise had been removed. But it was all she had to defend herself, and she wasn't about to lose it, too.

  The trees and undergrowth suddenly thinned, and her heart lifted at the prospect of picking up her speed—only to drop crashing to her stomach when she pushed into a small clearing and found the way in front of her blocked by an almost vertical rocky cliff. Whirling to the right, she discovered that avenue obstructed also by an impenetrable thicket of brambles and young trees.

  Breath sawing in and out of her lungs, she swung around to examine her options, and found there weren't any. So she turned back to face her pursuer, whom she could hear rapidly closing the distance between them. When a nocturnal bird suddenly screeched on the bluff above her, she screamed.

  Trembling as she teetered on the slippery slope of hysteria, she tried to regulate the speed of her breathing. To keep herself from tumbling into an abyss from which she feared she'd begin to scream and scream and never stop, she sucked air deep into her lungs and held each inhalation as long as she could before exhaling it. Then, her breath still coming too fast but feeling marginally more in control, she raised her shoe with its spiked heel out, ready to swing the makeshift weapon the moment anyone got too near.

  That's how Zach found her, hair wild, eyes ablaze with equal amounts of terror and determination, her nyIons in shreds, her clothing snagged and streaked with dirt. Blood was a black trickle down her right leg from an abrasion on her knee, and her hands and face sported a number of welts and scratches. She looked one scant nudge away from a total meltdown, but still she stood like a rookie up to bat, her stiletto-heeled shoe gripped between her bound hands, ready and willing to inflict damage on anything that came within reach.

  Aw, man. And he'd actually thought he had a prayer of not loving this woman?

  "Stay back!"

  "Lily." He inched nearer, wishing he'd thought to grab the flashlight so she could see his face. "It's me, sweetheart. It's Zach."

  "Stay away from me, I said!" Her voice wobbled and she adjusted her stance, lifting the shoe a fraction higher. "I cold-cocked you once, buster—don't think I won't do it again."

  "It's not Miguel, honey; it's me. Shh, shh, shh, now," he crooned. "It's all right. You're safe and nobody's gonna hurt you. I just want to get you out of these woods."

  It was the latter, he suspected, that finally got through to her. He watched as she blinked and then leaned forward, eyes narrowed, to peer suspiciously at him through the meager illumination provided by the fingernail moon drifting in and out of the clouds.

  "Zach?" She took a tentative step forward, but didn't lower the shoe.

  "That's right, baby, it's me." He eased toward her. "You're safe now,
Lily. Let me take you back to the car."

  The stiletto heel tumbled from her grasp. Her arms dropped, and she seemed to sag where she stood.

  It only took him three strides to cover the ground between them, but even as he reached for her, she rallied. Her posture snapped erect, and she swung her clasped hands at his chest, connecting with a solid thump. "You wretch! You scared me to death—I thought you were him ." Then she threw herself into his arms.

  He held her tightly, aware of the rapid drumming of her heartbeat against his abdomen.

  She rocked her forehead back and forth against his chest. "Of course, I also thought he was Freddy Kruger. I guess both assumptions were pretty stupid." A wild laugh exploded out of her throat. "Stupid seems to be the order of the night. I can't believe I lost it over my shoes , of all things."

  He didn't have a clue what she was babbling about and didn't particularly care—he was just grateful to have her back safe and sound. He tucked in his chin to peer down at her. "Are you all right? Escavez didn't hurt you, did he?"

  "No. I'm shook up, isall." She pressed closer. "Just hold me."

  "Oh, yeah; I intend to." He'd forgotten how tiny she was without her four-inch shoes, and being reminded caused him to hunch over her protectively, tightening his hold. But her bound hands between their bodies kept him from enfolding her as closely as he'd like, and with an exasperated murmur, he swept her up off her poor abused feet and turned to stride back to the road.

  Teeth chattering, she burrowed against him on the short journey to the car, and stayed close when he set her on her feet.

  He grabbed a knife out of the toolbox and cut the cord that tethered her wrists together, then watched helplessly as she rubbed the skin where the ligature had chafed. Guilt and love welled up in him and, reaching out, he gently smoothed back her hair, plucking bits of flora from it. "God, Lily, I am so damn sorry I got you involved in this mess. The instant I knew Glynnie was safe I should have checked up on Escavez's whereabouts. If I'd called the base sooner you could have been spared all this."