Her mother stalked forward, pointedly ignoring Anthony Callas, and grabbed Buffy by the arm. “This way, young lady. You’re grounded for a week.”
“But I’m supposed to take him back there!” The twelve-year-old tried to wiggle free. “Mom, I have an important mission.”
“Take me where?” Concern coiled in Ryder’s stomach. Why had Buffy been sent to fetch him if everything was under control? “Did you find Ginger?”
“I’m not sure.” Buffy’s sandals slid across the floor as her mother dragged her out. “Lisa wouldn’t let me go inside the apartment.”
“Who was in there?”
“I don’t know.”
Warning bells rang in Ryder’s mind. What if the predator had returned? Lisa had no weapons and, as far as he knew, no self-defense training. “Mrs. Grayson,” he said, “I’m sorry, but I need your daughter’s help. Just for a few minutes.”
“Mister, I don’t know who you are, or your friend here either, but these girls are preteenagers. Got that?” The woman roared like a lioness protecting her young. “You have no business even talking to these kids! Starr! You’re coming, too.”
Reluctantly the blonde girl emerged from behind the counter. Buffy, halfway out the door, called, “The address is 125 1/2!” “What street?” If she’d had claws like a cat, Ryder felt sure the girl would have dug them into the floor and left a trail of scratch marks. “It starts with a P!” She vanished through the opening.
“Is this how you normally do business?” blustered Anthony Callas.
Ryder couldn’t afford to waste time arguing. “Outside!” he rapped, and the other man hesitated only a moment before obeying. Ryder locked the store behind them. Thank goodness, less than an hour ago he’d run across the policeman and told him about Ginger’s latest encounter, so the man was up to speed. “There’s an officer who patrols this area on foot. His name is Valencia. Tell him we’re looking for 125 1/2 on a street that starts with P. And tell him it’s urgent!”
“I’m not the one being paid to—” Callas stopped. Maybe he’d finally heard himself, Ryder thought, and realized whose responsibility this was. “Yes, of course. Just find my daughter.”
As he hurried down the sidewalk, Ryder struggled against fear. There was no reason to believe Lisa might be in danger. Just a gut feeling so strong he could hardly breathe.
He had worried about her decamping on him. He had worried about someone from New York hunting for her. But it had never occurred to him that he might be throwing Lisa into the path of a predator.
At 125 1/2 Poppy Street, Ryder was greeted by an elderly woman doing aerobics. Circulars stuffed the mailbox of 125 1/2 Pansy, which had a For Rent sign in the window. When he rang the bell at 125 1/2 Primrose, a mother fixing lunch for her children said she didn’t know anyone named Ginger, Greek or Moron.
Was there another street that started with a P? Ryder broke into a run along the beachfront sidewalk. The names weren’t in alphabetical order. He’d passed Marigold and Zinnia, and the next one he reached turned out to be Lily. Beyond that, he discovered, lay Heliotrope. Then Ryder spotted yet another street sign. Peony.
He sprinted to 125 and ran up the stairs. The door stood ajar, but as he approached, someone inside pulled it shut. Without weighing the consequences, Ryder grabbed the knob and hauled full strength.
A sudden gap revealed a hand on the inner knob, a roughened man’s hand with a spider tattoo half-covered by an ill-fitting polyester sleeve. Clearly, the man hadn’t expected company. In the time it took him to clamp down, Ryder wedged himself into the space and grabbed the man by his shaggy hair, pulling his head back. If I’ve got the wrong apartment, boy, am I in trouble.
“Ryder!” It was Lisa, inside. “Thank goodness!”
“Let me go or I’m filing charges,” growled the man. His hair felt greasy in Ryder’s grasp.
“Please don’t let him loose!” Ginger spoke between gulps of air. “He said I’d be sorry I was such a little... he used a bad name.”
“I never did nothing.” The snake on the man’s neck bulged and squirmed.
“We told him to leave, but he stomped in and closed the door,” Lisa said. “Isn’t that some kind of crime? False imprisonment, maybe?”
“The girl owes me money. I got a right!”
Footsteps creaked on the stairs outside. Ryder let out a long breath as he spotted Officer Valencia with Anthony Callas right behind. He didn’t release his quarry, though. “This man was holding the girls against their will. He might be armed,” he called.
Pulling out handcuffs, the policeman snapped them onto the man’s wrists, then frisked him. He removed an ugly knife from a belt sheath and, after checking the man’s wallet for identification, called in the information.
“Daddy?” Ginger edged out of the apartment. “Oh, Daddy!” She flew into Anthony’s arms. He caught her close, and Ryder could have sworn he saw tears in the man’s eyes.
Lisa half smiled as she watched them. Ryder couldn’t believe he’d let her walk into this kind of danger; she looked so fragile in her jeans and thin blouse. More than anything, he longed to take her home and keep her safe.
“You can’t charge me with nothing,” the handcuffed man bluffed. “I was just talking to these girls. I’ll sue you for false arrest!”
The officer got off the phone. “Well, sir, it appears you’re violating your parole. That, plus being a convicted felon in possession of a concealed weapon....”
“A pocket knife? That don’t mean nothing!”
Valencia shook his head. “I doubt you’ll be ‘talking’ to any girls for a long time.”
A police cruiser arrived in front of the apartment. While two other uniformed men took their suspect to the station, Officer Valencia interviewed all the witnesses. Lisa bore up well, with only a bit of shakiness in her voice to reveal that she’d been through a frightening ordeal.
When Ryder finally escorted her away, however, he could feel her trembling. “Let’s go home,” he said.
“The store! I left Starr in charge.”
“She’s gone and it’s locked,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Thanks.” Lisa sagged against him. Ryder, slipping one arm around her for support, didn’t mind at all.
*
In one blinding burst of fear, Lisa had discovered what mattered most. When she’d seen Ned charge through the door, her chest had squeezed so hard she’d had to fight to think clearly, to devise some method of stopping this monster—a race to the kitchen for a knife, except she hadn’t known where the kitchen was. A scream, but it had stuck in her throat. All she’d been able to summon was a desperate, beloved image of Ryder.
Suddenly he’d been there, his face dark with concern as he’d jerked the door open and captured Ned. In that instant, Lisa had discovered that she loved him. Not only for saving her, but for being who and what he was. Fierce and tender, wary and vulnerable. A man who would risk his life for her, even though she’d once abandoned him.
She would never leave again. No matter who she’d been, or what scheme she’d been involved with.
“I’m sorry,” she said as they reached the parking lot.
“Excuse me?”
“For running away last time.”
They proceeded along a lane clogged with vehicles searching for a free space. “What brought this on?”
It occurred to Lisa that, kind as he was, Ryder might not welcome a confession of love. Certainly he didn’t owe her any permanent arrangement. “I just—don’t think I appreciated you properly.”
He opened the car door and eased her inside. “Feeling confused? It would be only natural, after what’s happened.”
“Confused?” Lisa said. “I’m thinking more clearly than I ever have.”
“ ‘Ever’ being the length of your memory, which is less than a week.” He closed the door.
Lisa had to laugh. As he got in she said, “You don’t like to accept compliments, do you?”
“Were you paying me one?” He turned on the car and backed out, to the delight of a carload of teenagers eager to take the slot.
“Let me clarify. I think you’re wonderful,” she said.
Dark brown eyes swept her. “Not all that wonderful. I had no business involving you in this case, especially not after I realized a predator might be after Ginger.”
“You only involved me because I had nowhere else to go. Besides, I was glad to help.”
Something tickled the back of her brain. “I had a snatch of a memory earlier, but I’m not sure what it means.”
“Oh?”
“Something about pregnancy. We did quarrel about you not wanting children, isn’t that what you said? But this was different. It had to do with me getting pregnant, as if it were likely to happen soon.”
His mouth tightened. “We forgot to use a condom. Are you telling me—isn’t it too early to tell?”
“I think so. Maybe I was worried about getting pregnant,” she said. “Ryder...”
“Yes?”
I love you. But I have no idea whether you’re ready to hear it. “Are we nearly home?”
“Right this minute,” he said, and pulled into the apartment complex. When they stopped, she didn’t wait to be helped out. She came around and took Ryder’s hand, and barely let him lock the car before she tugged him up the stairs.
If she couldn’t tell him how she felt, she could certainly show him.
*
This wasn’t the self-conscious young woman who had plucked Ryder off a ski slope, propositioned him and then blushed at undressing. This woman felt confident about herself and her sexuality. She wanted him. And he needed her with every atom of his being.
He was still reeling with the fear he’d felt when he realized she might be in danger. It was worse than being dumped, worse than being tricked. If Lisa had been harmed, Ryder wasn’t sure he’d be able to bear it.
He’d never had much use for love. That hadn’t changed. Yet he’d recently recognized a hollowness inside him that only Lisa could fill.
In the bedroom, she didn’t wait for his participation. Off flew the blouse and the bra, as if she were eager to be rid of them. She moved sinuously as she bared herself for his pleasure.
His gaze lingered on her parted lips and firm, inviting breasts. Her skin glowed, and her eyes took on a luster that revealed her own growing desire.
She unsnapped her jeans and slid them down her hips, relishing her femininity and enjoying his response. Ryder flexed his shoulders as power rippled through his muscles. His pants grew tight across his groin. He belonged inside Lisa, burning away the chill of separation.
Hands on hips, she shot him a teasing smile. Shrugging free of his shirt, Ryder came forward and caught her, pressing her hardened nipples against his chest as his mouth invaded hers. Her tongue tantalized his and her arms enveloped him. Through the fabric of his pants, her hot center teased his masculine hardness almost to the point of ecstasy.
A groan welled from his throat and he pressed her backward. As the water bed rippled beneath them, Lisa trailed kisses along his jaw. Her hands seized his buttocks and urged him on.
Smooth flesh wriggled beneath him, intensifying the sensations, while her mouth played across his. Her body opened to him, and he barely managed to undo his pants before plunging into her. Ryder heard her breathing quicken, along with his own, as they united into one molten creature on a field of flames.
If only he could hold this perfect moment, make the razor-edged pleasure last forever. With Lisa, he had found a perfect balance between the agony of anticipation and the glory of satisfaction. She must have felt it, too, because a stillness invaded them both. Their mouths formed a seal, and her hands held his hips, and he swelled inside her.
Despite their efforts to prolong this tranquility, the water-filled mattress picked up the faint stirrings of breathing and circulation. The bed began to shift rhythmically, as if moving of its own accord.
Carefully, by fractions of inches, Ryder drew himself out of Lisa and then entered her again. This time he was in command, and she lay within his power, only the tip of her tongue alive against his teeth. This self-control proved more than he could bear. With primal urgency, he intensified his thrusting and felt Lisa’s grip on him tighten.
Joy splashed over him, as he and Lisa shimmered together. They soared, arced across a rainbow and, at last, sank blissfully into an exhausted slumber.
*
As Lisa hovered on the edge of sleep that night, her mind played over her lovemaking with Ryder. She’d developed a sense of belonging so strong that it overwhelmed even her curiosity about her past.
She and Ryder were forging something new and precious. They hadn’t said a word. He hadn’t spoken the words I love you and neither would she until she knew he was ready to hear them.
The man beside her had fallen asleep on his back, angled toward her protectively. Even at rest, he bore the signs of hard living, in the sternness of his jaw and that jagged scar above his temple. He bore other, invisible scars from his childhood, Lisa had gathered. His refusal to commit himself to anyone must have been a vital protective mechanism, and she couldn’t expect him to abandon it easily.
She would allow him time for trust to grow. However long that took, she intended to stay with Ryder.
Chapter Thirteen
Boris snatched a newspaper from the sidewalk kiosk and tossed a few coins at the seller. Without waiting for change, he shook the paper open and stalked along the broad sidewalk, letting the Parisians dodge him as he read.
There was no mention of the phony kidnapping, thank goodness. The maid had assured Lothaire that the De La Penas had notified neither the press nor the police, and apparently she’d told the truth. Boris’s plans were progressing to perfection. When their daughter failed to return after last weekend, the De La Penas had readily believed she’d been kidnapped and were prepared to deliver a ransom of $1.5 million on Monday.
An isolated vineyard, which he could access by helicopter, had been agreed upon as the delivery point. There was only one, not-so-small problem. The De La Penas insisted that their daughter be handed over in exchange for the money.
Lothaire, dispatched to Denver on the chance that she’d returned there, had had no luck finding the girl. She hadn’t contacted her friend Maureen, either, according to the woman’s boyfriend.
Where the devil was Annalisa? What if she turned up at home, or didn’t turn up at all? What if the maid, who had grown increasingly nervous once she realized what she’d gotten involved in, panicked and told her employers what she knew?
When his cell phone rang, Boris snatched it irritably from his pocket. “Well?”
“Mr. Grissofsky?” A tenor voice spoke in German-accented English. “This is Win Hoffer.” Ah, the cameraman. “I couldn’t get hold of Lothaire, so I thought I’d try your number.”
Boris felt sweat popping out on his forehead, despite the cool April air. “Has Miss De La Pena contacted your girlfriend? We are very concerned for her safety.”
“No, but I just thought of something that might be useful. Since you’re so concerned.” The last word dripped with sarcasm. Win Hoffer couldn’t know about the ransom demand, but he’d obviously figured out that something sneaky was afoot.
Boris paused near an entrance to the Metro. Subway riders breezed up and down the stairs, none lingering long enough to listen to his conversation. “And what useful thing might that be?”
Win Hoffer cleared his throat. “Something worth more than Lothaire’s been paying me, I should think.”
Boris gritted his teeth. So Win had called him directly, not because he couldn’t reach Lothaire, but because he thought he could squeeze more juice from a bigger lemon. Sourly he said, “Twice the usual, then.”
“I’ve remembered someone who might know where she is,” said Win.
Awkwardly, Boris took down the name, phone number and address. Ryder Kelly, finder of missing persons. Win explained tha
t he had suggested, via his girlfriend, that Annalisa ask this private investigator to help her locate a suitable father for her baby. Since the man’s office was in Los Angeles and she had gone to Denver, Win had assumed she’d disregarded his suggestion.
“But it occurs to me that she might be in touch with him,” the cameraman said. “Maybe he knows who she visited in Denver. If not, he might be able to help you trace her. That is his specialty, after all.”
They had two days. Not a lot of time to find the girl, snatch her, and cart her off by private plane to France.
At this point, Boris would take whatever help he could get. “If he finds her, it’s worth triple,” he said.
*
A corporate executive had vanished with a laptop full of industrial secrets, and the head of the company demanded to meet with Ryder in an hour. He finished returning the rest of his phone calls and chucked the last of his mail, mostly advertisements, into the round file. Another half hour and it would be time to leave the office for his appointment.
Lisa had insisted on being dropped off at the store this morning, since Saturdays were Biff’s most lucrative time. An edge of uneasiness had troubled Ryder as he watched her stroll away along the beachfront sidewalk. What had passed between them last night still glistened with such newness that he hated to let her out of his sight. He longed to stay close, to watch expressions dance across her face and hear her laughter.
Ryder toyed with the idea of postponing the appointment, dropping by the beach and persuading Lisa to accompany him to some remote spot for the rest of the weekend. But this corporate case had a large bonus attached. Too large to ignore.
The phone rang. Zizi, who was working on Saturday to make up for missed time, answered. A moment later she announced a Mr. Smith, calling from Paris. Due to his website, Ryder received a fair number of international inquiries, although not usually from men named Smith. Unless they wanted to hide their real identity.
Let's Make a Baby! Page 15
