by Jill Shalvis
He rolled her onto her back, holding her down possessively with his body, and closed his lips on hers. "Well, then," he murmured, sliding his hot, open mouth over her jaw, down her throat, "Let me oblige you, darlin'."
* * *
Amazingly, Cam slept. He dreamed the light, weightless dreams of a very contented man. But even before he came fully awake, before he reached for her, he knew.
Haley was gone.
* * *
Chapter 11
« ^ »
Cam stood in the center of the guesthouse, frantic. Haley had cleared out, damn her, without a word. She'd taken nothing, not a stitch of Nellie's clothes that he could see, nor any of the things she'd bought in town that first week.
But she was undoubtedly gone.
Storming into her bedroom, he stared at the neatly made bed. Dread and welling fury mixed now. On the small chair, neatly folded, lay his denim jacket—the same jacket she'd worn since the beginning. He scooped it up and the scent that was so uniquely, gloriously her wafted up.
He shook his head, as angry at himself as with her. He'd known it, had prepared for it, but it still hurt more than he could possibly have thought.
She'd run.
Max rubbed against his legs, whining, worrying. Cam scooped up the puppy and got a sloppy kiss that failed to bring a smile to his face.
Why, dammit? Why now?
"Cam," Zach said from the doorway.
"Go away." Cam didn't turn to face him, wasn't ready to see the I-told-you-so his brother would never utter, but that would be there so plainly in his eyes. "Just go away."
"Can't do that, I'm sorry. Cam…"
His brother's voice came low, controlled … and very shaky. Nothing rattled Zach—nothing—and Cam whipped around to look at him. "What?" he asked, fear lacing his voice. God, what else? "Nellie?"
"No." Zach took a deep breath and looked at Cam with things in his eyes that hadn't been there since—since Lorraine had died. The horror, compassion and gut-wrenching loyally had Cam bracing himself for the worst. "It's not Jas, either," Zach added quickly. "It's Haley. There's something on the answering machine you're going to want to hear right away."
* * *
The day was cold, nearly frigid, and all Cam could think as he walked to the big house was that Haley had left wearing only her light blouse and trousers.
They strode in grating silence inside, to where both Jason and Nellie stood by the answering machine, ominously quiet. Nellie had tears streaming down her face and Jason held her tight. Cam looked at them, swallowed hard and hit the message button.
He listened to a harried Haley picking up the line just as the machine clicked on, recording her every word. Listened to the dark, threatening voice demand that she do as she was told and no one would be killed. Listened as Haley realized she'd been betrayed by someone she'd trusted. Listened as Haley pleaded for their lives, willingly giving up her own. For them.
For the love of them.
Sickness rose in him, and a dark rage such as he'd never known.
When the raspy voice laughed at Haley's fears, it sent chills down Cam's spine, but the sheer terror in Haley's voice shook him to the core. She believed every word the man said. Every word.
And she'd gone to him, back to South America. Back to the hell she'd run from in the first place. To protect him and his family. She'd gone, knowing she'd end up dead.
Damn her for not trusting him enough to help her.
The machine clicked off and everyone looked at Cam, but he could only stand still, replaying every last tortuous moment of the day; how she'd come into his bar with that wild look she'd immediately replaced with hunger and passion; then the magical time in his bathroom where they'd made love by candlelight.
He'd known something was wrong, hadn't he? He'd seen the nervousness and terror shimmering in her eyes and he'd let her seduce him regardless, telling himself it was just first-time jitters, because he'd wanted her so badly.
Now she'd gone back to that place that had taken everything away from her, her pride in her work, her self-confidence, her simple joy in living. She hadn't had much of that, and he'd wanted nothing more than to give her everything she'd missed out on. Warmth, affection, fun. Life.
"Oh, Cam," Nellie sobbed. "He'll kill her. She left because she was afraid for us, and he'll kill her anyway."
"No," he promised her grimly. "He won't." He hit star sixty-nine on the phone, which redialed the last number used. As he expected, a taxi service answered.
Haley had called a cab.
Tersely he asked for information on a recent pickup and was told their computer system was temporarily down. "Dammit!" He slammed down the phone and moved to the door.
"Cam," Zach said sharply.
He didn't want to stop, not until Haley was back in his arms. He yanked open the door. Zach was there in an instant, pulling him back. Cam whipped around him, ready to fight. Needing to fight.
"Wait." Zach held his arms down with a surprising strength. "Just stop a minute."
"I can't. Dammit, Zach, back off!" Couldn't they see? It could already be too late.
Jason moved up behind Zach, obviously willing to be backup if needed. "We have to have a plan here."
Cam stared at them, and at Nellie quietly crying by the phone. His brothers, though worried sick, were together going to force him to listen. He didn't have time for it. "I want you guys to get out of here until this is over. Take Nellie to town and stay there. Call the police. I'm going to the airport."
"Jason'll take Nellie," Zach said. "I'm coming with you."
"No." Cam stepped over the threshold, daring them to stop him. "Call into town. Do what you can to round up help before you follow. Call the airport and warn them. Call the FBI if you have to. You know everything I do about this."
Zach nodded. "We'll catch up with you, or meet you back with Haley."
Cam moved toward his truck. "Cam?" Nellie called out from the door. "Bring her home safe and sound."
"I plan to," he said grimly. "I plan to."
* * *
The taxi ride was blessedly long, and it was dark, quiet. Haley shut off her brain, afraid to think. Leaving as she'd come, she had only the clothes on her back and a few dollars in her purse.
She caught her reflection in the rearview mirror of the cab. Yes, she looked like the same woman who'd come to Colorado. The fear was still there, the wariness. But something had changed on the inside. She no longer lived for the sole purpose of work. She'd experienced love, which made the hopelessness of this situation all the more unbearable and terrifying.
This time, she'd die. And this time she cared, because she had so much to lose.
The taxi came into Colorado Springs and she knew she'd be at the airport in a matter of minutes, then with Branson in no time at all. Every passing second brought a new and overwhelming sense of nostalgia. She'd never again see the deep blue skies of Colorado, never again see the sharp mountain peaks and lush pine foothills she'd grown to love.
Her heart started pounding the minute the airport came into view and by the time they'd turned into the loop of terminals, she was near a full-fledged panic.
She couldn't go through with it.
Images of Cam came to mind: the way he'd looked at her that first night at the airport, accepting her without question, how he'd made her laugh, live … love.
He was her life.
But Haley knew she had to go inside. Knew, too, she had to hurry. If she didn't and Branson got tired of waiting, who knew what he'd do.
She couldn't risk it.
"Are you getting out or what?" The cabdriver tipped back his hat and gave her an impatient look.
He couldn't have been more than twenty, she thought dully. So many years left. Again, that impossible lump stuck in her throat. She felt like screaming at him, You're so young, so free. Go live!
Instead she paid him, her nervous hands fumbling for change. He sped off without a backward glance, leaving her to her private hell.
/> With a deep breath and a growing sense of horror, Haley stepped up to the terminal, her insides quivering with fear and regret.
What if she was doing the wrong thing? What if Branson hurt her friends anyway?
He wouldn't, she assured herself, staggering slightly. He wouldn't. But she couldn't stop thinking about it. Her stomach roiled painfully, reminding her she hadn't eaten. A sharp pain stabbed through her. Her ulcer, of course. It was back with a vengeance, and worse than ever.
Pushing past a large group of Japanese tourists, she blindly ran down the hallway and into the first women's rest room she found.
She threw up, then rocked back on her heels and stood shakily. Staring at herself in the mirror, she slowly shook her head. She couldn't give in to self-pity. Not yet. Not until she was absolutely positive Branson was on a plane headed far away from the people she loved. Then, and only then, would she find a way to contact the authorities, to lead them to Branson. It would mean her own capture, of course, but she would have to trust the system to prove her innocence. Nothing mattered—except getting Branson put away.
She rinsed her mouth and took a long drink of water from the sink. Then she took her ulcer medication. She'd have to accept the fact that without the happiness of freedom, without Cam, she'd need it.
Other people shuffled through the rest room, giving her no more than a cursory glance. Even in her haggard state, she didn't look out of the ordinary—just like one of a thousand weary travelers. Head held high, she started back toward where she'd come. She checked the huge monitor overhead to see which gate she needed, then started walking, her mind carefully blank.
She'd forgotten how noisy an airport could be. People walked, ran or carted to their destinations. Talking, screeching, crying … in several languages. The dull roar seemed to vibrate mockingly in her head.
Ahead, she faced three sets of glass doors that led to the next terminal. This was it. But just as she reached for one of the doors, a steel grip clamped down on her arm, spinning her around by force. As she turned against her will, she swung her purse up high and hard.
And clobbered Cam in the face with it.
He let go of her to grab his nose and she gaped at him. "Cam!" He winced and she took a step backward, colliding with the glass door. Oh, God, Cam. Here.
He tweaked his nose. "You nailed me."
"What are you doing here?" she whispered, glancing wildly around. Please, please, she chanted to herself desperately. Don't let Branson see him.
"That was my question for you."
If Branson thought she'd brought him, if he saw them together… "Get out of here. Now," she demanded, pushing at him. He didn't budge and she shoved him again.
He dropped his hands from his face and looked at her. Everything he felt for her, everything he was, swam in those dark, aching eyes; and her heart—the one she'd been trying to harden over the past several hours—slowly cracked open.
"You had no right to follow me. No right at all." Her voice wobbled.
"I thought we'd covered all this." He shook his head and reached for her. "Some genius you are."
She backed up a step, unable to believe that this nightmare of hers was about to come true before her very eyes. "Cam, you've got to go. Now."
"Can't do that." Though she tried to evade him, he took one of her hands in a grip that might as well have been steel handcuffs. "I'm sorry, Haley," he said flatly. "But we're going to play this my way for a few minutes." He turned and half dragged her back the way she'd come.
"Cam," she whispered furiously, beating him on the shoulder with her free hand. "Don't do this. Please, don't do this!"
Capturing her other hand, he continued walking, moving even faster. "You could have told me, damn you," he said in a voice just as quietly furious as hers. Several people glanced at him as he muscled their way through a horde of travelers, but Cam paid no attention. He shoved open the front doors of the terminal and yanked her out into the cold, dark evening.
She stared at the beautiful Colorado night sky she'd not thought to see again. She tried again to squirm free of the painful grip he had on her wrists, but his bruising hold merely tightened as he craned his neck to check for traffic. Calmly, ruthlessly, he pulled her across the street.
"Cam, wait. You have to wait."
He didn't even look at her. On the ground floor of the parking structure, he headed purposefully toward his truck. Fury rolled off him in waves.
"Cam, stop!"
"Nope," he said in a deceptively mild voice, still tugging her along. Easily, he held both her wrists in one band while he fished for his keys.
"Cam!"
"Save it, Haley," he ordered. "Later."
She had to get him safely away, even if she had to use his feelings for her to do it. "You're hurting me," she said quietly, letting her voice crack.
He loosened his hold with a surprisingly obscene oath.
"It's a free world. I can leave if I want to."
"Haley, I know."
"Look," she said desperately, glancing over her shoulder to see how far she'd have to run back to make it. Quite a distance, she thought frantically. And she still had to get Cam to leave. "Sometimes these things just don't work out and—"
"Don't, Haley."
"I'll explain better in a letter, I promise. Now you just go home and I'll—"
He swore again. Grabbing her shoulders, he gave her a shake. "I already know! And I'm getting you out of here. Now."
"No!" she cried, trying to break free. "I can't. I—"
"You're leaving," he said harshly. "With me."
He opened his door while keeping a firm arm around her waist.
"Why are you doing this?" she whispered.
"You already know why," he said, giving her a not-too-gentle shove toward the open door. "I love you."
Damn him, she thought, tears threatening again. "I don't want to go with you," she said, not having to force the little sob in her voice. "I want you to leave me alone."
He didn't even blink. "Well, there's a surprise. A lie." He shook his head. "I'm trying not to lose my patience here, Haley, but you're really pushing it." Again, he pushed her, but she fought him.
"I mean it!" she cried, holding the door so he couldn't shove her in. "I won't go with you. I'll scream if you try to make me!"
He stared at her for a minute, then at the guard at the end of the parking aisle. They both knew what would happen if she made good on that threat.
Then, very deliberately, he hauled her up against him until their faces were only inches apart. For the first time, she realized exactly how furious he was. His eyes shot fire. His arms quaked. His heart pounded against hers. But his voice remained quiet and calm. "You're doing it again, Haley. Testing me. Now listen carefully… It's not working." He shook her. "Are you listening? I love you. I always will. I think you love me, too, but we'll get to that later, since much as I hate to admit it, now's one of those times we've got to hurry."
"Hurry?" She could have laughed. He had no idea the hurry she was in.
"Yeah, hurry. I think Zach's taken care of it, but I want to be sure." His hold gentled, his gaze did not. "I know why you're here and there's no way in hell I'm letting you go. He won't kill you. He won't kill me. And he sure as hell won't kill my family. Now get in the goddamn truck so I can get you away from here." No longer nice and patient, he pushed her down into the driver's seat.
He leaned in, his eyes so dark and dangerous she nearly didn't recognize him. "Scoot over, darlin', and don't even think about bolting. I'm really quite angry at you, and believe it or not, I'm fast when I'm mad."
"Cam—" She squeaked and moved over a split second before he sat down on her. Reaching across her, he checked the lock, locked his side and thrust the truck in gear. "Get your seat belt on," he commanded and fastened his.
He knew. He really knew. But how? Could he be bluffing?
She reached for her door handle, but he slammed on the brakes, skidding to a halt right there in
the parking lot. "Don't even think about it." He tried to glare at her, but sighed instead and closed his eyes for a second.
When they flashed open, the fury had dissipated. "Haley, I can't let you go. I just can't. Don't ask me to."
"I can't stay," she whispered.
"You don't have a choice." And he sent the truck screeching out of the lot so fast, she was thrust against the back of the seat.
Cam's mouth was a tight, grim line as he maneuvered them through traffic and onto the highway. He wasn't going to let her go back. She shivered, icy to her bones. He tossed her the denim jacket lying on the seat, the same one she'd worn the entire time she'd been in Colorado. "Wear it, you're cold," he said gruffly. "And next time you run away, be sure to take the correct clothing—I hate worrying about you getting sick."
He was so quietly furious, so absolutely rational. She, on the other hand, was going insane. "Please, Cam. Stop the car."
"Why? So you can jump out?"
He snorted his opinion of that. "Do us both a favor, Haley, and be quiet a minute."
"Cam—"
"Are you going to tell me why you left me without a word? Are you going to tell me why you didn't respect me enough to even wake me? Or why you even agreed to make love with me in the first place? Are you?"
"I— Oh, Cam," she said wearily. "Why did you come for me?"
He glanced at her in surprise, then shook his head. "You've got a hell of a lot to learn about me, Haley, if you can ask that." He drew a deep breath. "I heard the call you took." He reached over to take her hand in his large warm one. He ran his thumb softly over the wrist he'd bruised, his gaze hard on the road. His jaw was granite. "It got recorded on the answering machine."
She stared at him, at the tense lines in his face. "He'll never let me stay. He'll hurt—"
"No," he said flatly, driving fast. "He won't. Jas took Nellie into town. Zach's taking care of things, I hope, but I still want to get you out of here. He can't hurt any of us, Haley. Whoever he is." He brought her wrist to his lips. "I'm sorry I hurt you. You scared me to death." He whipped his truck around a slower vehicle, keeping her hand to his mouth. "Now, I need a favor. It's a big one." His breath fanned the skin of her wrist, somehow warming the chill that had seeped through her bones. "Okay?"
