In the distance, he heard a muted noise. With a whispering breath, he shushed Vic. “Hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“A car.” He strained as he listened hard. “A car door.”
She began to tremble. “Do you think they came back?”
Del shook his head. “Nope. I think it’s the cavalry. Can you scream, baby?”
Vic shook her head, so Del shouted. “Up here!" She jumped, as if her entire body had been shocked. She still didn’t scream. “Hurry!” Del shouted again when he heard footsteps pounding on the stairs.
“If it is the cavalry,” Vic whispered, “are they too late? How much time do we have?”
Del smiled. “Enough, I think.”
“You think?” she asked.
The door to the room burst open, and Vic almost fainted. Her vision blurred and her head swam. This couldn’t possibly be the cavalry. The man who stood in the doorway was small, very thin. His hair was as long as Del’s, and the fine strands were a dirty dark blond instead of Del’s thick black. His eyes were… buggy, his face was pale. He held a gun in one hand and a knife in the other and he was poised to do battle.
“It’s about time,” Del snapped. “Get us out of here.” The little man holstered his gun. “Sorry I’m late,” he said as he came toward them with the knife grasped in his hand. “I got lost. Took the wrong exit.” He glared accusingly at Del. “Man, your one looked like a seven. Anyway, I turned around and headed back this way and...”
“Shock,” Del snapped, “I hate to interrupt, but there’s a bomb taped to the underside of the chair. How about take a peek and see how much time we have left.”
The man Del called Shock complied, dropping down and sticking his head beneath the chair. The single word that came out of his mouth did nothing to soothe Vic’s nerves. “I hate bombs,” he said as he returned to an upright position and began to decisively and expertly cut away the duct tape that bound Vic and Del together and to the chair. “Hate ’em.”
“Tilt detonator?” Del asked.
“Yup,” Shock said as he continued to cut.
“How’s our time?”
“Shorter than I’d like.”
As Shock moved behind Vic, he whistled through his teeth. “You’re bleeding,” he said without slowing his chore.
“It’s not too bad,” Vic said, her voice not rising as much as she’d intended.
Shock made a noise, something between a groan and a hum.
When she was free, Vic thought about standing. And couldn’t. Her legs shook. Her hands trembled. She glanced down at the gashes on her fingers as Shock cut the last of Del’s bonds away. Blood dripped down her palm, across her wrist.
When Del was free he put his arms around her, assisted her to her feet and led her from the room. Quickly. Shock was right behind, doing his best to hurry them along. Del, one arm securely around Vic’s waist, pulled her so quickly her feet barely touched the ground as they flew down the stairs.
She wasn’t exactly thinking rationally. Halfway down the stairs, she came up short. “My cell phone is still up there.”
“Screw the cell phone,” Del grumbled as he dragged Vic off her feet and down the rest of the stairs.
They ran through the double front doors, into the bright summer sunshine. Vic apparently wasn’t running fast enough to suit Del; he dragged her along. A moment after they left the building, Shock appeared at her other side.
“Let’s go,” he said as he added his arm around her waist.
The two men pulled her along, her feet off the ground, her heart caught in her throat. They had reached the parking lot and were running hard toward the two cars at the far end when the explosion rocked the building behind them. The noise was deafening, the blast of heat unnatural even on this summer day. Shattering glass was loud, a strangely pretty, dangerous sound. Shards landed in the parking lot, just behind them. As she heard the glass land on the asphalt, Vic was glad Del and Shock had grabbed her up and hurried her along. They didn’t look back, not until they reached the cars.
Vic’s heart sank as she studied those cars, a black Jaguar and an electric-blue Dodge Viper. Those two vehicles together surely cost more than her house. Del Wilder, a drug dealer. She couldn’t believe it. “At least they didn’t take your Jag,” Shock said.
Del responded without emotion. “Even Tripp and Holly are too smart for that. They want to disappear and a Jag is definitely not a ride that makes you invisible.”
Vic listened, but her mind was elsewhere. She’d almost told Del about Noelle, she’d almost confessed to him that they had a child together. That could never happen. Never. If someone would try to get to Del through her, what would they do if they knew he had a daughter?
They watched the building burn.
“Did they get your Glock?” Shock asked.
“Yep,” Del answered.
Shock mumbled an obscenity, then turned to Vic and smiled, presenting a grin that was all teeth and gums. “Name’s Albert Shockley, ma’am,” he said. “But you can call me Shock. A name should suit a person, you know? I don’t know what my mother was thinking when she named me Albert.” He waited a moment. “And you are?”
“Vic,” she said, the name barely passing through her lips.
Shock’s smile faded a little, and he turned a suspicious glance to Del, who continued to watch the spreading fire.
“Vic,” Shock repeated. “Now, that’s just not right. Vic is a name for a fat, smelly guy, not a pretty lady. Gotta be short for something.”
“Victoria,” she whispered.
Del tore his attention away from the burning warehouse and took her hand in his, studying the cuts on her fingers. Again, he cursed.
“It’ll be okay,” she said, trying to draw her hand from his tight grasp.
Del held fast. There was no withdrawing her hand from his, not unless he wanted her to. “Baby,” he growled, “nothing is okay.”
Chapter 2
Vic hadn’t looked him in the eye since they’d left the warehouse parking lot, and the only words she’d spoken had been lifeless directions to her South Huntsville home. He’d bandaged her hand quickly, using the first-aid kit he always had in the trunk, while Shock had checked the Jag inside and out for explosive devices. Just in case. Shock had found nothing, and they’d gotten out of there while the fire raged. They were gone long before the volunteer fire department could arrive.
Del steered the Jag in and out of shaded portions of the street, driving slowly since there were kids everywhere. They played ball, rode bikes, attempted tricks on skateboards and in-line skates. It was a nice neighborhood. The homes were nothing like the antebellum house in Old Town where Vic had grown up, but nice just the same.
“Here,” she said, pointing to an empty driveway. Del turned sharply and came to an abrupt stop before a midsize, middle-class Colonial home. Two stories, neatly landscaped, nothing special that might reach out and grab a person. It was just a house.
“Thanks,” Vic said as she opened the passenger door and stepped out of the car. Still, she didn’t look directly at him.
Del cursed beneath his breath. She’d survived the crisis and now she was falling apart. Women did that, or so he’d been told.
He left the car and headed for Vic’s slow-moving form, tempted to put his arm around her as he had when they’d run from the warehouse. She looked like she needed the support, but he didn’t touch her. He stayed close, though, just in case.
She stepped onto the porch and reached out to touch the doorknob. The door easily swung open. Finally, she looked up at him. “They didn’t lock the door.” From the tone of her voice, it was clear she found this the most egregious of the Mayrons’ sins.
“Should anyone be here?”
Vic shook her head.
Del drew the Colt pistol Shock had pressed upon him before they left the warehouse, taking care that the weapon was not visible to anyone passing on the street. “Stay here,” he said softly as he left Vic waiting
on the front porch.
His search of the house was quick, efficient and productive in an unexpected way. No one was waiting for Vic’s return. Tripp and Holly, who were not the most brilliant of the criminals he’d run across in his career, had been sloppily confident that there was nothing wrong with their plan. They actually thought that Del would take their warning that they’d know if he told anyone where he was going seriously.
After talking to Holly and hearing Vic say her name and then cry out, Del had written a quick note and slipped it to Shock quietly, in case the caller had been telling the truth and he was being watched. He’d suspected all along that threat was false; he knew the other agents in the office too well to suspect that they’d be involved in anything like this. But he couldn’t take the chance that he was right about them all. Not with Vic’s life at stake.
The quick check of her neat home revealed something interesting. The shirt she wore was the only piece of men’s clothing in the house. There was no electric razor in the bathroom, no men’s shoes in the closet… nothing. This was a woman’s house, pure and simple, put together with an easy blending of soft colors and comfortable furniture. The only exception was the daughter’s bedroom, which was decorated in purple and black and adorned with slick posters of bands Del had never heard of. From the looks of the guys in the posters, they weren’t exactly into easy listening.
“All clear,” he said, placing the pistol at his spine as he opened the front door and reached out a hand to assist Vic over the threshold.
She nodded her head, obviously relieved, and stepped inside, releasing his hand as she walked through the foyer. Unconsciously, he was sure, her fingertips trailed across the palm of his hand. “Thanks. Should I do anything? Call the police?” She turned slowly and tilted her head back, looking him squarely and bravely in the eye. “I won’t,” she said. “Not if you don’t want me to.”
He knew how this looked, what she was thinking. With a few words he could set her straight. He said nothing, telling himself it no longer mattered what Vic thought.
“I’ll handle it,” he said, his voice low.
She nodded. “Thanks for the ride.” It was a neat, almost polite dismissal.
“Coffee,” Del said, brushing past her. “And I need to use your phone.”
“There’s a cafe on the corner that has great coffee,” she said quickly. “They have a phone, too. I think,” she added in a softer voice.
Del turned before he reached the short hallway that led to the kitchen. “Trying to get rid of me?”
She nodded.
“I can’t leave you here alone.” He leaned his shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, relaxing outside even as tension coiled inside him. Vic had been less than forthcoming. “I thought maybe I’d wait around until your husband gets home. Is he at work? You can give him a call and...”
“That’s not necessary,” she said, her voice low and quick, her eyes darting away from him. At least she had the good manners to look a little guilty as she lied.
“What’s his name?” Del asked.
“Preston,” Vic whispered. “Preston Lowell.”
“And when will he be home?” How many chances was he going to give her to tell him the truth?
Her face went pale, once again. Her usually luscious lips thinned and tightened. “We’re divorced,” she finally admitted. “He lives in North Carolina.”
Del smiled. “You forgot to mention that earlier.” He turned and headed for the kitchen. “Pack a bag,” he said as he walked away. “We’re getting out of here.”
He heard Vic’s footsteps behind him, the pad of her tennis shoes soft on the tile floor. “No. That’s not necessary. The bomb blew up, surely those two will think we’re dead. Right?” That last word was tinged with hope.
“For a couple of days,” Del answered. “Eventually they’ll wonder why there’s no mention of the bodies on the news, and they’ll do a little digging. Won’t take them long to find out the building was empty when it blew. You’re not safe here.”
He expected her to argue, but his declaration was met with dead silence.
He found the coffee and filters in the most logical place, in the cabinet above the coffeemaker. While Vic watched, he measured out the grounds and got the brew going. When he turned around, he found her staring at him so hard he could feel it.
“Why me?” she asked. “I haven’t seen you for sixteen years. It doesn’t make sense that they would kidnap me to get to you.”
He’d had the same thought. Why her? True, the assignment to Birmingham, Alabama, put them in the same geographical area, but still, there had been other women in his life. Women who’d lasted more than a month. But then, Vic hadn’t been a woman sixteen years ago, she’d been a little girl playing with womanly things.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’m going to find out.”
She nodded her head and looked away from him.
“How’s the hand?”
She wiggled the tightly bandaged fingers. “Fine.”
An awkward silence filled the air of Vic’s homey, bright kitchen. The coffeemaker gurgled, and outside a bird chirped. The light that broke through the wide window at the breakfast nook bathed her in a way that made her look golden, more beautiful than she really was, surely. Del tried to tell himself that he no longer cared for her, that she didn’t grab him somewhere deep inside and hold on.
“They’re going to come here, aren’t they?” Her voice was breathless with fear.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t think so. They won’t be back tonight, that’s certain. They want to be far, far away when you come up missing or dead. If they decided to come back and swipe your TV or rifle through your jewelry box like common thieves, someone might see them in the area. It’s not a chance they’ll take. You need to get out of here, though, because when they find out you’re not dead they will be back. Like I said, we have a little time.”
She nodded. “Noelle’s not supposed to be back for four days.”
“We don’t have that much time. Should we go to Gulf Shores and pick her up?”
Vic’s eyes were condemning, sharp and no longer afraid. “We? No. I’ll go get her myself.”
Del shook his head. “I can’t let you do that.” Dammit, there was no way he’d leave Vic to handle this on her own. He couldn’t
“Let me?” she snapped.
Her defiance was almost amusing. Almost “You have no idea what you’re up against. I can’t just let you run out of here on your own.”
“What are you going to do, tag along?”
He sighed, not at all happy with this turn of events. “Yeah.”
Del refused to leave, even when Vic reached the end of her rope and threatened to call the police. He said one night in the house would be all right. The local TV station had covered the explosion of the abandoned warehouse off of 1-65, and while they hadn’t reported anything about discovering bodies inside, there hadn’t been much information at all. The fire had still been too hot for investigators to explore the building.
Maybe right now the kidnappers thought she and Del were dead. That incorrect assumption would not last long.
So come tomorrow morning, she and Del were headed for Gulf Shores to collect Noelle. Then what? Oh, it was not a good idea for those two to be together, not even for a short time. Noelle had Del’s black hair, his blue eyes, his way of finding and embracing trouble. Would he take one look at her and know?
Del finished making his phone calls in the kitchen and walked into the living room where Vic was curled up on the couch. She couldn’t help herself. She was taken aback by how beautiful he was, how unexpectedly tempting. Talk about trouble! Del Wilder was a criminal who’d come back into her life with a bang. Literally. He couldn’t stay, and she couldn’t let herself be tempted by what she couldn’t have.
“I’ll hire someone to go with me,” she said, not sounding as confident as she wanted to. “A private investigator,
maybe, someone who specializes in personal protection.”
“Still trying to get rid of me?”
“Yes.”
He ignored her, smiled and walked to the mantel where a collection of photographs were carefully placed. Vic’s heart almost stopped when he reached out and grabbed an eight-by-ten of Noelle at the age of nine. She’d been taking dance lessons then, and was wearing a ladybug outfit, complete with wings and antennae. Her heart thudded too hard. What if he looked at Noelle and saw the truth?
“Pretty girl,” he said, smiling as he returned the framed photo to its place.
“Yes, she is.”
“So,” he said, turning to face her. “What happened with Presley?”
“Preston,” she said tersely. “And what happened to my marriage is none of your business.”
“Just curious. Trying to kill a little time.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, the move making him look like a large, tense, restless boy. “Shock will come by in the morning and drop off a bag. I’d like to get out of here pretty early. By ten, anyway.”
“Del...”
“And don’t tell me I’m not going with you,” he interrupted. “You need me, Vic.”
Those were the last words she wanted to hear! “I do not need you.”
She didn’t need anyone to look out for her or Noelle. The only men who had ever tried to shelter and protect her had ended up betraying her, in one way or another. Her father; Preston. Even Del. These days Vic looked out for herself and her daughter. She didn’t need a man to play the hero.
“At least let me see you settled somewhere safe,” Del said, obviously trying to placate her. “I know of a few good places to hide.”
“I’m sure you do.”
He grinned at her blatant insult. “You got tough while I was gone.”
He couldn’t possibly know what a nerve he’d touched on. “I didn’t have any choice.”
WILDER DAYS Page 2
