by Lydia Burke
Someone was in the bedroom!
The fear Jessie had pushed aside with her fantasy rolled over her again in double measure. Automatically she groped for Ben in the dark, found the smooth leather of his jacket and, trembling, moved closer to his big, warm body. His arm stole around her, pulling her tightly against him. The gesture heartened her and she burrowed in gratefully, conscious of the re-
assuring bulk of his muscles. His was a strength to be reckoned with.
Then, in a surprise move, Ben hooked his wrist around her neck and clamped his hand firmly over her mouth again, pressing her head to his chest. Jessie struggled briefly, but he tightened his arm against her shoulders.
Why, he wasn't comforting her at all! In a typical show of male dominance, he was using his superior physical strength to prevent her from making noise and alerting whoever was in the next room! As though she didn't have enough sense to keep her mouth shut without his help, she thought indignantly.
The rumble of a second voice in the bedroom made her forget her disenchantment with Ben. Gooseflesh dithered over her skin. The two men out there must be the pair Ben had warned her about earlier. What they planned for the occupant of the now-empty bed didn't bear considering, and their loud voices made the prospects seem all the more threatening. Didn't they care that they might be overheard and later identified?
On the other hand, maybe that was a good sign. It could mean they thought no one else was here. Jessie strained to hear their conversation. Unfortunately, she couldn't make out the words over the pounding of Ben's heart; only the definite distinction between the two separate voices was clear.
She wished she knew what were they saying. If she and Ben were about to be discovered, if one of die men even touched the bathroom doorknob, she didn't know what she would do.
Pa-pum, pa-pum, pa-pum, went Ben's heart, and Jessie suddenly realized it was racing almost as fast as her own. Which could only mean that he was no more composed about their desperate situation than she was, in spite of his formidable height and brawn, not to mention that gun in his hand. His whole body, in fact, was stiff with tension.
Maybe, Jessie thought, she was foolish to place her confidence in him. After all, she'd only known him for what, thirty minutes? Three hours? How long had it been, anyway, since she'd first been awakened by the hand that was once again half smothering her?
Then again, what difference did it make? She ought to be applying her mental energy to finding a way out of this mess. Her last heroine, Sydney, hadn't wasted precious time won-
dering how long she'd been trapped in her father's warehouse. No, she'd reasoned calmly and constructively and then saved the day by coming up with a couple of gas masks and a canister of tear gas from a long-forgotten storage compartment.
Jessie gathered her wits and tried to reason calmly and constructively, mentally surveying the contents of the tiny bathroom. It was no good. All she could think of was razor blades, and it wasn't likely that Allie's, outfitted as they were with pink plastic handles, would be of much use.
Where was a handy bit of tear gas when you needed it?
Just when Jessie was beginning to fed the ordeal would never be over, Ben took a deep breath and his body relaxed. He moved his hand to the back of her neck and said, "I think they're gone."
Jessie sagged against him in relief. "Oh, thank God."
"Are you okay?"
She nodded her head where it still lay on his chest. She should move, she knew, now that the danger seemed to be over, but suddenly she felt exhausted. She hadn't realized that terror took so much energy. And Ben felt solid and warm, like a protective haven.
He smelled nice, too. Jessie thought he must have showered not long ago, because the same fragrance of soap she'd noticed earlier on his fingers teased her nose through die fabric of his shirt. It blended subtly with another, more earthy smell, musky and masculine, no doubt the result of him so recently sweating out their harrowing experience. It wasn't at all unpleasant. In fact, she found it almost... arousing.
"You sure you're all right?" Ben's fingers moved gently on the sensitive skin at the side of her neck.
It was then she realized her arms were twined around his waist under his jacket. She felt the heat of his body permeating her unbound breasts, which at the moment were pillowed against his rib cage. In a nearly imperceptible move, his hips nudged her abdomen.
Jessie raised her head in alarm. Good Lord! She was clinging to him like a baby chimpanzee!
Quickly she disentangled herself. It was a good thing the light was still out; at least Ben couldn't see how flustered she was.
Instinctively she attempted to hide behind a mask of irritation.
"Yes, I'm fine, now that I can move again and my jaw is no longer in traction. What was the big idea, anyway?''
"You were scared," Ben answered evenly. "For all I knew, you were about to have a fit of the screaming meemies. I had to be sure you wouldn't give us away."
"I assure you, I've never had a fit of anything in my life. I'm not a child, nor am I stupid." Anger felt good after the unsettling chagrin of moments ago.
"Well, la-di-da, little princess. Pardon me for saving your rear end. Maybe you'd have preferred it if those two bozos had found you in your bed, snoring sweetly on your lacy feather pillow."
"I don't snore!" she replied, stung by his scorn. She supposed she was being ungracious, but for now the emotional buffer she'd erected seemed more important than good manners. "Anyway, what happened? Did you hear what they were saying? J couldn't hear a thing, thanks to you. Why did they leave?"
"Thanks to me, they saw the open window in the other room where I came in and thought you had sneaked out. They were afraid you might have gone to a neighbor's and called the cops. So they took a quick look around the bedroom to be sure you weren't under the bed or hiding in the closet, and then took off. We're just lucky they were in too much of a hurry to check out the bathroom. Where, thanks to me again, you were safely tucked away."
His sarcasm banished any gratitude Jessie might have felt. "You had a gun, and you said you're a policeman," she shot back. "Why did you let them go? Why didn't you arrest them?"
Ben swore so bracingly in response to that, Jessie cringed.
"Look, princess," he snarled. "While I'd love to hang around and soak up all this appreciation, there isn't time. For all we know, those guys are hiding in the bushes outside, waiting for you. And even if they're not, eventually they're going to make a return trip to take care of whatever business they came for in the first place. Which means you can't stay hare. Though why in hell I should give a damn, I don't know."
His derision smarted. Still, Jessie conceded he had a point. It was unreasonable to stand around arguing when her very life could be at stake. What in the world had Allie gotten her into? Why did it have to be this man she was dependent upon to get her out of it?
"Okay, you're right,'' she said grudgingly.
"Well, glory be! She admits I'm right!" Ben declared to an imaginary third person. Then, to Jessie, he said, "Angela, baby, that's worthy of a headline in your precious newspaper."
Jessie heaved an exasperated sigh. "Look, you big ignoramus, try to get it through your head that my name is Jessie. Now I agree we need to get out of this house, so why don't we quit sniping at each other and just leave, okay?"
"At last!" came the sneering response.
Jessie managed to squelch the impulse to have the last word. "How are we going to do this? I assume we can't just walk out the front door."
Ben didn't answer right away, and she wondered whether he would accept the belligerent truce she was offering.
"Maybe we can," he said finally. His voice, while not exactly friendly, was at least neutral. "First I'll have to sneak outside to see if their car's still there. While I'm gone, you get dressed. We'll decide what to do after that."
He was still uttering peremptory commands, but Jessie settled for making a face at him, knowing he wouldn't see the small rebell
ion in the surrounding darkness. It wouldn't do any good to antagonize him again. Besides, he'd said "we'll decide." That placated her in a small measure. They were in this together, after all. So rather than objecting to his arrogant assumption that she would do exactly as she was ordered, she told him, "Be careful."
But all she received for her expression of concern was a brisk, "Don't turn on any lights."
She heard a rustle of clothing and the soft slide of metal as he opened the bathroom door. In the next moment, she was alone.
Mai Duan drummed long, elegant red nails on the desk blotter in the secret room behind the marina. For the moment
unmindful of the incongruity of her exotic, well-tended beauty in these dingy surroundings, she waited impatiently for word from her men that their errand had been successful.
Never before had she had occasion to give than an assignment such as the one she'd given them tonight. Neither of the men had killed before, and they had been less than enthusiastic at the prospect. But in the end, their greed had won over their dubious ethics.
As distasteful as she would have found the task, Mai would have done the deed herself if they had refused. Angela West's removal was necessary. Everything, all that Mai had gained in the years since she'd escaped Vietnam with nothing but a will to survive, hung in the balance. She could not— would not— start over again.
Rage battled with desperation in Mai's almond-shaped eyes as she thought of the viper who had crept into her very bosom and betrayed her. Angela West.
No, not Angela West. The deceiver's true name was Alicia Webster. Only hours ago Mai had learned that the managing editor of the Sheboygan daily newspaper employed the impostor as a staff reporter. The editor himself, a frequent patron of Club Duan, who enjoyed all the services Mai offered, had recognized the cocktail waitress three days ago in the club. Unfortunately, he had been so anxious not to be recognized in return, he had fled.
Damn the man. Not until tonight had he sneaked into Mai's office with his suspicions that the woman was not merely moonlighting but was, in fact, investigating Mai in hopes of getting a newspaper story. The warning had come too late to prevent the theft that could ruin Mai's life.
"Bitch," Mai muttered, her red lips twisting in distaste. Alicia Webster had charmed everyone, Mai most of all, with her false simplicity. She had made a fool of Mai, caused her to lose face.
Tonight the conniver would pay for her treachery.
Even then it would not be over. Mai had told her men only that the woman was a reporter; she hadn't mentioned the missing journal. Nor had she mentioned it to the powerful man in Chicago whom she'd awakened with her call earlier tonight. She hadn't dared.
But once the Webster witch was out of the way, there would be time for Mai to locate the journal herself. She must locate it, before her ruthless associate discovered its existence. If she did not, the meticulous records she had kept for her own protection against him would become her death warrant.
Chapter 2
J essie groped her way into the bedroom and followed the wall to her suitcase, where she'd left the underwear, jeans and fisherman's sweater she'd worn the day before. She slipped out of her nightgown, recalling her belief when she'd dressed for bed last night that her sister would be home in the morning. Now she didn't know what to think.
Where could her reckless twin be? Ailie couldn't have known about the danger that would come creeping in the night, or she would have warned Jessie somehow. Of course, it was possible she'd tried and failed. Tired from the trip and the accumulation of too many late-night hours finishing her book, Jessie supposed she might have slept through a ringing phone.
She shuddered when she considered what could have happened if Ben hadn't come. She was grateful to him, maddening though he was.
Jessie dressed hurriedly. Thank goodness she hadn't unpacked anything but her nightgown and toiletries. Her getaway would be effected that much quicker.
Getaway. She could hardly believe she was thinking in such terms. This whole situation was preposterous, like something out of one of her novels. Except Jessie was finding that she
preferred dreaming up danger and intrigue to living it. Whatever she was made of, it was not the quick-thinking, gutsy stuff of her heroines.
Now Ben as a hero, on the other hand—well, she hadn't made up her mind about that yet. She liked her leading men to have sensitivity, as well as strength, and Ben was about as sensitive as a water buffalo.
Jessie crossed the dark room carefully, and when she bumped into the bed, she dropped to her knees to find her shoes and socks. After a good bit of fumbling around, she located both socks, but only one of her high-top leather shoes. Great. With all the traffic in here tonight, its mate could be anywhere. Jessie began searching the carpet with sweeping hands, her brain drifting back to the book-worthy aspects of her current predicament.
Mystery, mistaken identity, unknown, sinister attackers—it had all the ingredients of a gripping adventure. Her writer's mind began probing it for weaknesses. There were always some. A writer had to be careful not to overlook the obvious but uninteresting solutions to her characters' dilemmas. If she didn't root them out and dispose of them, she could find herself with an unbelievable story or even no story at all.
Jessie wished she could come up with such a solution right now. This was one plot she wouldn't mind relegating to the scrap heap.
Her search for the elusive shoe was interrupted by Ben's low-pitched summons at the bedroom door. She scrambled to her feet to let him in.
"They're out in their car, still watching," he said without preamble.
"Oh, no. Why didn't they leave?"
"Probably because they didn't hear any sirens. And since if s not likely they're going to, we'll have to hurry, before they decide to come back in. Are you dressed?"
"All but shoes. I can't find one of them. Can you help me look?"
"We don't have time. It'll be daylight soon. Get a different pair."
Jessie thought about the meager contents of her suitcase. "The only other ones I have are dress shoes with heels."
"You've got to be kidding/'
"I wouldn't kid at a time like this. Help me look, will you? This isn't easy in the dark, you know."
"Jeez, what else can go wrong? You aie a damned troublesome female, you know that?"
"Me. It's not my fault. I put both shoes side by side, very neatly, right by the bed. If you and those other guys hadn't been tramping around in here, they'd still be there."
Ben breathed a long-suffering martyr's sigh. "Did you look under the bed?"
"Of course I did. But my arms couldn't reach very far."
He moved away, grumbling, and Jessie heard him rummaging around in the vicinity of the bed. "If if s not under here," he said to her, "you'll have to go in your socks. You do have socks on?"
"Not yet, but it'll only take a minute."
"If she hasn't lost them, too," he muttered.
"I heard that. I have them right here," Jessie retorted, thankful she'd had the presence of mind to hang on to each item as she'd located it.
She sat down on the floor and quickly slipped on both socks and the single shoe she'd found. She had already tied the lace and was fastening the ankle buckle when Ben said, "Hereitis"
Good, Jessie thought. She wasn't relishing walking around with only one shoe. She'd be darned, however, if she would thank him.
"Where are you?" he groused.
"Over hare, Mr. Sunshine."
She heard him moving toward her. "Where, dammit?"
"Right here!"
His hand brushed, then grasped, her shoulder, and the shoe dropped into her lap.
"Thank you," Jessie said before she could catch herself.
"Hurry up. I don't know how much time we have before those turkeys decide to try again."
She gritted her teeth and summoned her by now frazzled patience. "You know, Ben, I've been thinking—"
"Don't think, princess. Just get that shoe on so we
can get moving."
"I'm getting it on, and I'm not your princess. I just wanted to-"
"Is it on?"
"I'm tying it!" If he interrupted her one more time, Jessie thought, she wouldn't be responsible. "Listen to me, will you? I think you should call for backup or whatever you police guys do, since that's what those men were afraid of in the first place. One way or another, it could solve all our problems."
Not the least of which, she added mentally, was getting this aggravating man out of her life.
"Good idea. Too bad it won't work. The phone's dead. I suspect our friends outside cut the line before coming in. Aren't you ready yet?"
"Yes," she snapped, getting to her feet. "What are we going to do, if we can't call the police? How are we supposed to get out of here without those men seeing us?"
"If you can move your butt before the sun comes up, we can leave through the window where I came in. You'll need a coat It's freezing out there."
"I left it in the hall closet. Is it okay if I move my butt out there to get it?" Jessie could be sarcastic, too, when the situation called for it.
"Get the damned coat."
She left the bedroom with Ben right behind her. Without light, she had to walk carefully, but she made her way through the living room to Allie's tiny foyer without tripping over anything. She opened the closet door and retrieved her heavy parka.
"Got it," she whispered.
"Put it on," Ben whispered back.
Jessie grimaced but followed his instructions. If it hadn't been so important to keep quiet, she would have let him know precisely how she felt about overbearing men. As soon as they were out of this, Ben's ears would peel like a bad sunburn from the blistering she would mete out. She zipped the parka viciously.
