by Jaycee Clark
Perfect. A piece of the red plastic fell away and sunlight lasered through the hole.
She squinted. That wasn’t what she’d wanted. It took some maneuvering, but she wedged the flat of the screwdriver farther up so that it caught the edge of the light, or she hoped so. Using the edge of the hole as a fulcrum, she applied pressure hoping, hoping, hoping.
“Come on,” she whispered. The screwdriver slipped and she cut her knuckles on the metal.
Again she tried and again it slipped. Finally she managed to pry a bit of the edge of the stupid light away from the car. She kept at it and it seemed to take her forever, but she finally managed to get one of the long taillights off the back of the car. There were two round holes that she could fit her hand through.
Instead she wiggled down so her mouth was even and started to yell.
• • •
Jock made it back to the house and passed it, walking up the other direction.
The bastard had to have parked his car here somewhere; otherwise, how would he take his possessions with him?
Then he saw it. He yelled, ran across the street without looking and held up a hand as a car’s brake’s squealed.
Andrews was running up the sidewalk toward him.
Sirens still wailed in the air as a new police car pulled onto the street.
He ran over the yard to the car and jerked open the passenger door. No one was in the front seat. He thought he heard a faint sound, but the damned siren drowned it out. He looked in the back. Nothing. There was nothing. Other than her white nurse’s cap lying on the back floorboard.
“Shit,” Andrews said and radioed to the others. “Cut the damned siren!”
Kaitie. Where was Kaitie?
The siren cut mid-wail.
“Where the hell is she?” he yelled and thumped his fist on the roof.
Something thumped back. “Right here!”
He stilled.
“Would you please stop throwing a fit and let me out of here?” her voice snapped.
It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.
He hurried to the trunk, saw the long taillight lying on the driveway, and bent down.
Her hand reached out to him and he caught it, kissed it and saw her wrist and knuckles were bloody.
The trunk. “He locked you in the damned trunk?”
“No, I locked myself in the bloody thing,” she said through the hole. “Get me out of here, Jock.”
Andrews laughed. “We’ll have you out in a minute, ma’am.”
“Who’s that?” she asked him.
He kissed her hand again. “Detective Andrews.”
“Took you long enough. I finally found the jack, which I have to say was not easy because it was not where it was supposed to be. But I’ve got the jack together in here, I just can’t decide if I should put it near the latch thing or the side of the trunk.”
The jack.
His girl had found the jack, and something to take out the taillight.
“Given enough time, you would have saved yourself.”
“Possibly, but you’re here, so be my knight and open the damned trunk!” she hissed.
Jock laughed. “Yes, m’lady. Your wish is my command.”
He heard her snort as he stood. “If only. But for now I’ll agree. I just want out. It’s dark and it’s tight in here and I don’t like it. I was having a great day at work,” she chattered.
He opened the car and saw the keys were not inside, or in the visor or under the seat.
Damn it.
“We could try another key. Sometimes works with my mom’s car when she loses her keys. My uncle had a spare to some other car that was newer but it fit Mom’s doors.”
“You could take out the backseat,” Kaitlyn offered. “Though how anyone could fit through that tiny space is a mystery, but I’m more than willing to try.”
“Kaitie,” he said, squatting back down. “We’ll get you out, I promise.”
“Sometime soon?” she asked sweetly.
He couldn’t hold back the grin.
“What happened to your hands?” she asked. She reached through the hole, scraping along metal as she reached for him.
He took her hand again. “Nothing, and stop that. You’re tearing your wrist and hand up.”
He started to stand but she held on to his hand.
“Where are you going?”
“To find the key.”
“Like I said, we could try other keys,” Andrews offered.
He shook his head. “No, he has the keys on him.”
Andrews nodded and radioed for his partner to check for keys.
Sure enough, minutes later the partner and the chief jogged over to them. Neighbors were now out on their lawns watching. Jock didn’t care.
He squatted there beside her and held her hand.
“You know, you promised me a date I’d never forget,” she said, her voice echoing from inside. “I rather think, Jock, I’d like a mundane date. Maybe even just room service.”
He nodded. “All right.”
“And I’m going to be so mad if my uniform is ruined. This one is new. And I was making a great impression at my new job! Now what will they think and . . .” Kaitie chattered on as they tried the first key and then the second. Finally he heard the snick of the lock.
Kaitie’s silence only lasted until the trunk lid opened.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I don’t like tight spaces,” she said, all but leaping into his arms.
Jock held her tight against him and lifted her from the dark trunk. She was shivering and her arms were cold to him, her hands icy. He’d thought it was just the one but they were both icy.
How long had she been in the trunk?
Jock kissed her cheeks, her nose, her eyes. Finally her mouth. Her arms wrapped around him and squeezed.
He kissed her with every last worry and hope that was in him.
She met his kiss, then she jerked back. “Took you long enough!”
Jock threw back his head and laughed. “Kaitie lass, I drove here like a soul escaping hell and thankfully didn’t have a traffic accident. But you’re welcome.” He’d seen she didn’t have a new bruise on her, didn’t have any blood other than on her hand. Her white stockings had a slight tear in them, but other than that, she seemed fine. Thank God.
“Hmmm.” Her eyes narrowed then glanced around, and he felt her tremble. “Where is he? Did he get away again?”
“No. They have him.” Jock jostled her in his arms and started walking toward his car, which was blocked in by the police. He looked at the chief. “I’m taking her to the hotel, you can talk to her there.”
The chief jerked his chin up and then shook his head. “Why is it the thing I remember the most is the trouble you cause?”
“Because he’s just that special,” Kaitie said.
The chief laughed. “I’ll let Dan know you might need him.”
Jock shrugged and carried Kaitie away. He put her gently in the car, and in no time, after the chief made the boys move their cars, he drove them away.
He cranked up the heater.
“Can we go home?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Maybe later after the police talk to you.”
She sighed. “That’s going to ruin our date night.”
He smiled and reached for her hand, careful of the knuckles.
“What did you do to your hands?” she asked.
He shrugged. “What I had to.”
She opened her mouth, shut it and then sighed. “We are a pair, aren’t we?”
He nodded. “That we are, Kaitie lass.”
She frowned as they pulled up to the hotel. “I can’t believe our date is ruined. I had things planned.”
“Really? What did you have planned?”
She shook her head. “It’ll keep. Not today. Today’s been too much and I want special for this and—Oh, let’s just go upstairs. And can you please order me a burger, I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since early this morning a
nd I’m so hungry.”
She rambled on as they went through the lobby, talked as they rode the elevator, told him—with plenty of opinions of what she thought of Dr. Dick—exactly what had happened as far as she knew.
Which was very little.
Thank God. He wasn’t going to tell her where the bastard had planned to take her. Of the dress, of the rest. Of what the police suspected.
“I don’t want to wait for a wedding,” Jock blurted as he shut the door to their suite.
She turned to him and then rolled her eyes and strode to the bathroom. “Why? You’ll have to talk in here. I want these clothes off and I want them gone.” She wiggled and said, “I need a shower.”
He leaned into the shower and turned it on, then leaned back onto his palms, wincing at the thrum of pain in his knuckles when he did. She noticed, came over and took his hands. Then she turned on the water in the sink and washed his hand. “You need ice on these.”
He grunted. When she was done, she turned and unbuttoned her shirt.
“So, why don’t you want to wait to get married?” she asked, stripping.
Jock simply watched her. She opened the shower door. The long line of her back flared out over her curvy ass. Jock smiled. Freckles dotted the skin across her shoulders.
Glancing back over her shoulder at him, she said, “Don’t just stand there, handsome, strip.”
He raised a brow. “I see grave things in my future.”
She laughed and shut the door. Jock stripped and stepped into the blast of heat.
“Christ, Kaitie, that’ll scald the skin off.”
She was busy lathering her arm. He took the soap from her.
“So the wedding?” she asked.
“I don’t want you wearing white.”
She stopped and looked up at him over her shoulder. He leaned in and kissed the bare skin, so soft.
“Why?”
“You look better in green? Or red.”
“I don’t look good in red, Jock. The hair.”
“Fine, a dark purple velvet?”
“Jock.” She turned and put her hands on either side of his face.
He clasped her tightly to him and buried his face in the side of her neck. “I thought . . . I couldn’t find you . . . I couldn’t find you, Kaitie. My Kaitie.”
She squeezed him tightly. “I knew you’d find me, Jock. I knew you would. And if I happened to get that stupid trunk open before then, then I’d find you. But I knew you’d be looking. I knew I could count on you.”
“Always.” He kissed the side of her neck. “I can’t lose you.”
“I’m right here.”
He took a deep breath and stared at the tiles, at the rivulets of water as he swallowed back his emotions. “I want a wedding with you, a wedding night, a honeymoon. I want to see you have our children, and do stupid stuff together. I want to laugh in bed with you and I want to grow old together, to spoil our grandkids together and today . . . today . . .” He swallowed and pulled back, so he could look in her eyes. “Today I was scared I’d lost all that. All that was you. I’m sorry I failed you, Kaitie.”
Both her brows rose. “Jock—whatever your middle name is—Kinncaid. Stop. He’s not taking that from us. Would you let him take that from me? Hell, you didn’t let him take Johns Hopkins from me, I’m not about to let you blame yourself for this.”
“I should have guarded you better.”
“Sometimes if you hold too tightly, it becomes a prison,” she whispered.
He saw again that white room in the basement and knew she was right, but that didn’t stop the way he felt.
“I don’t want to imprison you.”
“I know. Let’s just enjoy now, today, the lovely police interview that’s coming up, and then maybe I can finally eat. Either that or I’ll pass out and you’ll freak out and—”
“Kaitie, I do not freak.”
She picked up his fist and kissed it as the water washed down over them. “No, of course not.”
“That was a fight. I do not freak. There’s a vast difference.”
She smiled at him. “A fight.”
“Of course, you didn’t think I was just going to let him walk away, did you?”
“He is still alive, isn’t he?” she asked.
“Kaitie, I’m shocked.” He leaned in and kissed her.
“Oh, I know you. You like to protect, he took me, thus, he must die,” she said, lathering her hands and rubbing them across his chest.
“I’d have preferred it but the chief didn’t want to see me in jail and I figured you wouldn’t be happy with me, you being a nurse and all, healing hands and all that.”
“Nope, wouldn’t have been. We’ve already discussed how you in prison was not a good thing.”
Their hands lathered, and explored, softly, gently.
“I want to make love to you, but I know the chief, he’ll be here soon.”
She sighed. “I know. I wasn’t kidding about being hungry. I’m famished! I’m betting it’s not as fun if I pass out just as the earth shatters with you in me.”
He sucked in a breath. “Playing with fire, Kaitie.”
She grinned at him and slid out of the shower.
He watched her, glad she wasn’t quiet like before.
She was his spitfire.
“Okay. We can get married sooner. When and where, that’s the biggest question,” she said as she pulled on one of his button-downs from the closet and rolled the sleeves up. He realized he’d have to call down to the gift shop for a pair of jeans. With the towel around his waist he walked to her.
• • •
Kaitlyn watched Jock, wet from the shower, water droplets still shining on his chest, the towel draped low on his hips, and she sighed.
The man was just good enough to eat.
Her chain with her engagement ring hung long between her breasts.
Jock reached her, slid his hand into the open neckline and pulled the chain out. Then he unclasped it and slid the ring off the chain and slid it onto her finger.
“That’s where it belongs.” Kaitlyn looked from the ring to him. “Please, for me, Kaitie, don’t wear white.”
Kaitlyn searched his eyes, saw the dark shadows in them that hadn’t been there before. “Grammy will be shocked.”
“You won’t.”
“This is important to you,” she said, not asking.
He only nodded.
“Will you tell me why, you never mentioned this before. Why now?”
For a minute he only stared at her, then he raked a hand through his hair.
“Would you trust me if I said I’d tell you if you pushed it but I’d rather you not know?” His mouth was tight, his eyes dark. The phone rang and he picked it up. “Yes, send him up. Kaitie wants a burger. Medium. No onion or pickles and a side of fries. And I need a pair of jeans . . .” He talked some more, listened to whoever he was talking to, but never took his eyes off her. “Thanks, Scotty.”
“This change happened today,” she guessed.
He didn’t say anything, only took a deep breath and finally tilted his head in what she assumed was affirmative.
“Okay, Jock. I won’t press it. I suppose a white dress isn’t a must.”
His shoulders eased. “Thank you.”
Then she laughed. “I can have any color I want?”
Jock watched her for a minute and then pulled her closer to kiss her softly. “Any color you want, Kaitie.”
She laughed, leaned up to kiss him again, but a knock reverberated through the apartments.
Darn. Oh, well, she’d have him later. Maybe they could stay the night, and just enjoy each other. Plus, she needed to find out when he wanted the wedding.
Chapter 12
The man was late.
Kaitlyn stood in her wedding gown—not white—behind the arch someone had erected and woven with ivy.
She was getting married.
Married to Jock Alasdair Kinncaid. He wasn’t up front yet. She
had no idea where he was and was trying not to get anxious. Where was he?
His brother kept smiling at her and telling her they needed a few more minutes.
“Is he having second thoughts?” she asked, secretly worried.
She glanced around the assembled guests and knew only a few, from her work. The rest were all friends, relatives, or associates of Jock’s. Chairs marched on either side of an aisle. There were flowers and ferns and tulle. She couldn’t believe they were getting married on the lawns shadowed by the old Kinncaid family home in Seneca, Maryland. It was a mansion, dark and gray, imposing as the man who owned it.
“Of course the man’s not having second thoughts,” Broderick—Rick, Jock’s brother—muttered. “You two are exhausting.”
She grinned.
“Well, then what is it?” She waved her bouquet around. “I knew we should have just had a church wedding. Easier that way. I know he hasn’t been back to this place since your parents and sisters died. We should have—”
“Oh, he’d been back, but he, and I, never stayed.”
“Which is why I told him we could have it anywhere else.”
Rick took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder as Rainey walked up.
“Jock wanted the wedding here. Wants the big family home to have a big family again.” Rick turned back and grinned at her. He looked so much like his brother, though there was something softer about him, a bit rounder in his face or something. “Me, I just want to see all the women bemoan the fact they don’t get the big shiny ring, with the big shiny house, and Kinncaid.”
She snorted. “Only you two can understate a home and house. It’s a bloody mansion.”
Rick shrugged. “Walls, roof, rooms, family, home. Doesn’t really matter what size it is.”
Rainey shook her head. “Who cares. Hon, do you need anything?”
Kaitlyn laughed. “The groom?”
Rainey and Rick shared a look. “Well, he’s here, but you’ve made it plain he can’t see you before the wedding.”
“So?”
“So, we’re waiting on something.”
Kaitlyn looked from one to the other. “What?”
“Rather a who,” Rick said.
Several more minutes passed and Kaitlyn tapped her fingers against the silky material of her dress.
