“You’ve got a guess.”
“That’s all it is, a guess.”
She gulped. “Do you think it was Pickins?”
“He likes games.”
The breath that had coagulated in her lungs leaked out. “He’s here? Somewhere nearby?”
Darkness hooded his eyes, made reading his expression impossible. “Someone is.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Wait for Brian and Rhone. Then play our own version of hide-and-seek.”
Fear for him held her momentarily in its frozen grip. “Is everything a game to you?”
“Nothing’s a game where your life is concerned, Arielle.”
“But what about yours?”
“I’ll protect you,” he swore.
He hadn’t answered her question. His unspoken words contained more power than the ones he’d said. He’d save her, she knew, even at the cost of his own life.
She shuddered. Earlier, she’d tried to tell him she loved him, only to have him cut through her words with his lips. The kiss had tasted of passion and urgency, of trust, of belief, of promise and of determination. He’d released her, leaving her reeling, hardly able to stand.
And even though he’d cut off her declaration, sealing off her confession, she loved him, more than anything. She needed him, wanted him. She didn’t want a hero...she wanted Doug.
Instinctively she rested two fingers across her lips. They’d made love, explored a part of her she’d never known existed.
The doorbell rang. For a moment, their eyes met, and Arielle’s heart sank. Doug’s eyes were as dark and dangerous as they’d been that first afternoon, as they ran through the streets of New York.
He straightened his shoulders, reaching for the nine-millimeter that rested at his fingertips, and, in a single, effortless motion, stood.
Her hand went to her throat “Rhone and Brian?”
“No. I don’t expect them to arrive for another couple of hours.” He moved into the front room and pulled back the drape with his index finger. “What the—? Stand clear of the door.”
He glanced back at her, apparently making sure she’d moved away. Then, squatting, he reached out with his left hand, turning the knob. A flurry of snow blasted through the opening.
Arielle heard his sharp intake of breath, saw the odd-shaped object he’d retrieved from the doorstep. Backhandedly he swiped the door shut.
“Oh, my God, Doug, it’s a grenade!”
“The safety pin is still intact.” His voice was unnervingly calm as he picked up the explosive, gingerly wiping snow from the surface.
Hands gripped at her sides, Arielle watched.
Doug laughed, the short, bitter sound slicing through the tense silence. “It’s not real.”
“A toy? But why—?”
“I told you, Pickins likes games.” He stood, tossing her the plastic replica. “Arielle, I’ve got to go after him.”
Arielle dropped the fake grenade on the couch and rushed toward Doug. “No, please, don’t go until Rhone and Brian get here.”
“No time. I don’t know what other ideas of fun and frivolity our boy has planned, and I’m not willing to risk your well-being waiting to find out.”
“You don’t know for certain that it’s Pickins. You said so yourself earlier. And you don’t know if whoever is out there is alone,” she pleaded, unaware that she was squeezing his arm until Doug gently loosened her grasp.
Holding her hand in both of his, he kissed her palm, then curled her fingers over the spot his lips had touched. “I...know it’s Pickins. I also know he’s alone.”
She battled tears, the reason for them a toss-up between his tenderness and consuming fear for his life. As his words sank in, she blinked away the moisture, welcoming the anger that had begun to build, replacing the fear.
Apparently he saw the gathering storm in her eyes. He shrugged. “After the incident this morning, I found a little message in the snow. One set of footprints.”
“Semper fi?” Arielle asked.
Doug’s gaze flicked over her. “Yeah.”
A sense of betrayal lanced through her. “Pretty good deductive reasoning, Sherlock, for someone who wasn’t sure his hunch was correct.”
“Arielle—”
“You lied to me, Doug.” A knot of tension settled in her shoulders. When she asked him if he knew who the intruder was, he’d told her he could only guess.
His eyebrows arced together as he looked at her. Latent energy pulsated from him, but she refused to back down now.
Arielle released a breath. “You demanded complete honesty and forthrightness from me,” she said, struggling to hold her calm. “You didn’t rest until you’d uncovered all my secrets and exposed them. You wouldn’t let me run or hide from myself or from you.”
“Arielle, no good could have come from you knowing about Pickins.”
“So lies are better, is that right, Doug? Is it?” Her fingernails dug into her palms. “It’s my fault he’s here, my fault he’s after you.”
Doug shook his head. “It’s not your fault. Pickins has wanted revenge on me since the day my testimony sealed him behind bars. He’d have found a way to get it.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that you demanded my trust and won’t return the favor.” Quietly, emotion rampant, she asked, “We’re in this together, aren’t we?”
“For better or worse,” he agreed. “You’re right about that, and nothing else.”
“Where am I wrong?”
“My job is to protect you—”
“Wait a second,” she said, interrupting him. “You withheld information from me to protect me? You’ve got it backwards. You said we’re in this together, and I hired you, Doug. I’m paying for the protection. Surely that counts for something.”
“Get this straight, lady, I’m not working for you.” He took a threatening step toward her. “I didn’t take a penny of your money. I don’t want your money. I’m doing this because I want to, not because of the promise of a nice thick paycheck.”
Arielle swallowed. He’d never admitted how much he cared, but this, this, came as close as she might ever get. Tears stung at the back of her eyes, and she bravely held them back.
“You came looking for me, but when I agreed to help you, it was under my terms, my rules.”
“Trust is a two-way street. I’m not Kerry, I haven’t fallen to pieces yet. You owe me the courtesy of belief. You owe me that much, Doug.”
“I owe you your life,” he said, vanquishing the rest of the distance separating them and capturing her shoulders. “I owe you a shot at survival.”
“I don’t hold you responsible for me. I’m a big girl, I’ll live with the consequences.”
“You’re right,” he said. “Live being the key word. But while we’re at it, get one more thing straight. I hold myself responsible for your safety.”
“You have to trust me,” she said, feeling his fingers digging into her shoulders. He gripped her with barely restrained anger, and she didn’t want to crack through the reserve. All she wanted was his faith in her. “The same way I trust you.”
He kissed her. Long and hard and rich, with the same passion he’d coaxed from her last night, then again this morning.
When he released her, she leaned against the wall. The man weakened her, chased away logic. If this was love, she wasn’t sure she’d survive it. She’d never before been through such turbulent emotions.
“Arielle, I want nothing more than to take you back to bed and prove how much I trust you.”
She sucked in a shallow breath.
“But until this is over...”
He captured her lips again, her mouth, seeking her tongue. Willingly she melded with him, relaxing against him, feeling the hardness against her stomach that proved just how much he wanted to take her back to bed.
Anger evaporated, and all that remained was the honesty of her feelings and the beauty of her belief.
“We’ll talk late
r,” he promised, ending the kiss and leaving her aching for so much more.
She stepped away from him slowly, realizing that this might be the last chance they’d have to hold each other. The thought terrorized her, even more than the idea of losing her own.life. She wanted to remain in his arms forever, pretend the future didn’t exist.
But it did.
“The sooner this is over, the better.”
She nodded, fighting for nonexistent bravery. He was right, even if that very fact broke her heart.
As much as she loved him, she knew she’d never fit in his world. Her life was filled with lesson plans and homework assignments, not guns and ammo clips.
Arielle choked back a sob as she followed Doug back into the kitchen. Trust her to finally find what she’d been searching for, only to see the possibilities fade like snow in the bright sun.
“You okay?” Doug asked, opening a map of the surrounding area.
“Nervous,” she admitted.
She sat in one of the chairs at the table, drawing her legs close to her chest. Doug stood at the island, his gun in its holster under his arm. Even though his words were calm, she read carefully leashed energy in each motion.
He continually glanced toward the windows and doors, always on guard and alert. She should take comfort from that, she knew, but yet she didn’t. In fact, she wondered if she’d ever be calm again. The East Coast no longer seemed like a real world, more like a figment of her imagination. Was it just a couple of weeks ago that she’d made a decision to increase the benefits of her life insurance policy? It didn’t seem possible.
“There’s nothing I can say to sway you to wait until Rhone and Brian arrive, is there?”
“No.” Both his tone and the directness of his glance forbade argument or discussion. He straightened, refolding the map.
Doug strode through the downstairs rooms, pulling back blinds and drapes to look out each window. And with each moment that passed, her insides twisted a notch tighter.
“It’ll be over soon,” Doug promised, returning to the kitchen. “Pickins isn’t patient He likes to play, but always likes to be dealing. He wanted me to know he’s here. Most likely he knows I have backup on the way. He won’t be expecting me to hunt him down alone.”
Needing to distract herself while Doug assembled extra ammo and checked the clip in his gun, she asked Doug, “Are you nervous?”
“Always the psychologist?”
She attempted a half smile in response to his lightness.
“Not nervous,” he said. “Filled with anticipation, like it’s a long holiday weekend. What does that tell you, Doc?”
“That you get entirely too much pleasure out of this.”
His eyes took on a smoky darkness. “Among other things.”
“Doug, I...”
He raised his brow, waiting.
She’d tried to make her confession once, but he hadn’t wanted to hear it. And even though the words echoed in her mind, she didn’t dare distract him.
“I need coffee.”
“Is there anything but caffeine in your veins?”
“Adrenaline,” she admitted. “And I’m scared it’ll wear off.”
Doug had been there himself. In Central America, he’d spent three days running on adrenaline, scared spitless it’d wear off before he accomplished his mission. He hadn’t had time to rest, to eat or to sleep.
Yeah, he knew how Arielle felt. He’d been there. Hell, he was there right now. He’d let down his guard once, and Pickins had gotten in.
And now, while the cover of rapidly approaching darkness was more friend than enemy, Doug hesitated to leave. He could not ignore the intense feeling that something wasn’t right. He’d learned years before to listen to his gut, rely on his premonitions. His life and others’ had depended on it.
This time was no exception.
More than anything, he wanted the whole mess ended, wanted a well-deserved rest in the Bahamas. Of course, that meant he needed a new yacht. Better yet, maybe he’d fly. He had more of a chance of actually making it that way.
Arielle crossed to the counter, but didn’t reach for the carafe. Instead, she looked at him. And the expression in her eyes robbed him of his breath. Her eyes wore the expression of trust, but mixed with reality.
No other woman possessed that capability, to be so open, even when faced with the truth. She was a gem, and he had been right the night before. He didn’t deserve her, didn’t deserve her love.
But, God in heaven, that didn’t stop him wanting....
“Will I see you again?” Her words trembled on the air.
“Yeah,” he said, wondering if he’d lied. Seeing her again might lead him straight to hell, because he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to resist her. She had dreams, she’d told him, of a house with a split-rail fence. She dreamed of a family, of kids.
But Doug didn’t dream.
And as much as he was willing to admit that he cared, he didn’t have the right to rob her of her dreams.
“Anyone ever told you you’re a lousy liar?”
“Anyone ever tell you you talk too much?”
She gave a shaky smile, and he admired her courage.
An explosion rocked the house, shattering a front window. Instantly he grabbed Arielle, placing her behind him. His body a shield, he whipped his gun from its holster. The alarm shrieked. Adrenaline slammed into his gut, and he pivoted toward the sound. Then, looking over his shoulder, he snapped, “Stay close to me.”
She nodded, her eyes wide and her mouth open with shock.
“Arielle?”
“I’m okay.” She nodded again. “I’m right behind you.”
He started toward the front room.
Just then, another explosion ripped the atmosphere, followed by a third and fourth. Glass shattered, and the house shook. Doug ground his teeth together. Hide-and-seek. Damn it to hell and back again. Where the hell was Pickins?
Before he’d gone another step, a cold chill lanced him.
“Semper fi, buddy.”
Doug froze, the coarseness of Pickins’s evil voice creeping down his spine.
Arielle.
Doug executed a swift turn, leveling his gun at Pickins... and at Arielle.
Son of a bitch.
Cold sweat beaded on Doug’s brow, and more dripped down his spine.
Pickins had climbed through the shattered patio door and grabbed Arielle around the throat. He held her in a choke hold, a beefy elbow tipping back her neck. Deadly black metal pressed into her temple, and her toes barely brushed the floor.
Her eyes were wide with terror, her breath coming in short, desperate little bursts.
For the barest hint of a second, Doug’s pistol wavered. Pickins noticed it, though, a cackle blending with the piercing shrieks of the alarm.
History unfolded before Doug, a horrible replay of a situation he could never hope to win.
Guilt assailed him, cutting at his heart. He should have known Pickins would blaze back in, full of righteous indignation and glory.
The tattooed pick on Pickins’s forearm flashed ominously toward Doug. Fear made his blood coagulate, dredging through his veins.
“What do you say now, buddy?” Pickins demanded, the unholy light of insanity radiating from his eyes.
“Whatever you want,” Doug said.
“How’s it feel to have someone you once counted on...semper fi, you freaking jerk...staring at you, holding the power of life or death in his hands?”
“You know how it feels.”
“I wanna hear you, man. I wanna hear you tell me.”
Pickins tightened his grip on Arielle, making her gasp.
And it hit Doug with the force of a rocket blast. He loved her.
He loved her with his heart and soul. Somehow, over the past few days, he’d fallen in love with her. And it wasn’t a young, immature love like the one he’d had for Kerry, but a soul-deep love that transcended everything.
He’d sealed off
her own confession, hiding behind his own lack of courage. He’d known then that he returned the emotion, but he hadn’t had the strength to admit it. Hadn’t had the chance to admit it. And now each second marked a lost possibility.
“I lost my girl ‘cause of you, you righteous, self-important bastard!” Pickins yelled. “You sent me to prison, and my Rita said she didn’t have no time to wait for no loser. She shoved my ring through the metal bars, threw it at me, like I was a piece of trash.” Then his eyes lit again. “You ever lost a girl?”
Once. And Doug vowed it wouldn’t happen a second time.
“Huh, Dougie boy? Have you?”
Arielle belonged in his arms, and Doug wouldn’t rest until that happened. She belonged in his arms, in his bed, in his life. And he intended to tell her just that.
Rhone and Brian couldn’t be far away. If Doug could only stall long enough, maybe they’d arrive and the situation would be resolved peacefully...without a hair on her head being touched.
“Got out of prison ‘bout a month ago. No job, no one waitin’ for me. Now I got something you want.” He cackled again.
The alarm continued to wail, and tension tightened around Doug’s neck like a noose.
“There’s one thing I want, Sammy...your sorry, worthless butt six feet under. Shouldn’t have gone for imprisonment, should have recommended they seek the death penalty. New York doesn’t need your kind of trash wandering the streets.”
Pickins’s eyes narrowed.
Doug surged on. “Only feel like a man when you’re threatening a woman, do you? How about you act like a real man, go a round of one-on-one, just you and me?” Doug didn’t mean basketball, except for the part when he’d slam-dunk Pickins’s skull.
Pickins pressed the barrel deeper into Arielle’s temple, and Doug shut his mouth.
“Ain’t gonna happen, my boy.”
“You don’t want her...you want me. Revenge, right? Let her go, Sammy.”
Pickins tutted. “Ain’t gonna happen, not when it’s my lucky day and all. I got twofers, got the little lady and you.” He licked his lips. “Couldn’t have afforded no plane ticket without her money. Now where’s my manners? My mama would be ashamed of me for forgetting myself like that.” He lowered the gun momentarily. “Thank you for the money, little lady,” he said.
One Night At A Time Page 21
