Was he a rapist as well as a murderer? Possibly.
Terror clogged her throat. Oh, God! She was going to die, and the worst thing was she was going to die without even knowing the reason why.
What had she done?
Not done?
Seen?
Not seen?
Had she somehow pissed off her dear, sweet sister-in-law? Her brother? Yeah, she could see either one of them ordering a hit on her—if people only knew what she knew. She’d learned her lessons the hard way. The best way to survive was to not rely on someone coming to her rescue. No one ever had. So why should this time be any different?
Without hesitation, Flayme opened her mouth and let loose a shrill scream loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood. “Ahhhhh! Help! Somebody help me!”
A dog responded with several short, high-pitched yaps somewhere down the street, but she didn’t see the sudden glow of any porch lights pop on, didn’t hear anyone running to liberate her, or call out, questioning what’s wrong. There wasn’t even a soul about to order the dog to quiet down. Crap, so much for inquisitive neighbors.
But just let her come home half-tooted or with a man on her arm and she bet every neighbor up and down the street would know it instantly. However, her captor must have been concerned or feared a prying citizen might intervene, because he immediately let go of her wrists and clamped a big callused paw over her mouth.
“Shut up,” he snapped. “I swear to God I’ll rip out your tonsils if you make another sound.”
Ah-ha! Even he couldn’t do two things at once. Oh, but she could. Flayme curled back her lips in an attack snarl. Be damned if she was going out without the best fight of her life, ripped out tonsils or not, she wasn’t about to cooperate.
She raked her nails down one side of his face. At the same moment, she sank her teeth in the edge of the palm pressed against her mouth. Flayme chomped down like a rabid dog with a soup bone, locking onto his tough flesh. The callused skin broke between her teeth, reminding her of a ripe plum splitting wide open. Ugh!
The metallic taste of blood coated her tongue, but she didn’t let go. Flayme had a shark’s bite on his hand and she intended to hang on just like one, too.
“Ouch! Fuck! Let go! I said, let go! Hell’s bells! Let go, woman…”
Not in your dreams, buster.
She wasn’t about to see reason and free his hand. No way. No how. Not unless he knocked her out cold. He wouldn’t dare—Flayme jerked as a solid blow crashed against her jaw. Stars again—the lousy cheat—oow! Her nose burned. Eyes watered. Ears rang. Yep. That did it. She was done for. Her jaw slipped in to slack mode. With a soft moan, she let go of his hand. Jesus, what had he hit her with, a nine-pound hammer? Her jawbone felt like it had been clipped by a steam ship. Hell, she couldn’t focus her eyes.
Flayme blinked, tried to rise, fell back, and with a faint sigh, gave into the utter blackness descending upon her. Her last thoughts spiraled through her head like a burning star, twirling—whirling—spinning faster and faster until it sucked her inside the black void. She was a dead woman, and she had no idea why, or who this beast was who planned to shoot her dead.
* * * *
Duel slowly exhaled. “Sonofabitch!” He shook his throbbing hand, mouthing threats beneath his breath. His hand ached almost as bad as his shoulder and chest. In reality, his body was just one big crawling ulcer of pain. “Damn woman.” At this rate, the little cannibal was going to be the death of him. He studied the unconscious woman, but couldn’t see her face in the dark shadows. “Sorry, doll baby, it was you or me, and I’ve sustained enough collateral damage from you tonight. Better luck next time.”
He rose to his feet, staggered a couple of steps, then slowly, reluctantly, dragged the unconscious woman up by her arms. Grunting, he tossed her over his uninjured shoulder, fireman style. “Oughta just leave you lying in the snow, see if that cools off your happy ass a bit,” he grumbled. “Sam, you might be the boss lady, but you really owe me a bonus for this one, and I’m collecting, bet your ass I am.”
The cannibal’s arms slapped his butt every step he took. “Damn it, woman, you have to make everything hard.” Duel paused a moment and in spite of his misery, grinned. Come to think of it, everything was hard.
Now why the hell would he have such a physical reaction to a woman who’d just more or less tried to stab him through the heart? He had to be a tad insane. It wasn’t like she’d been trying to turn him on at any given time. On the contrary, she was as feral as any untamed she-cat he’d ever crossed. So why the hell was he hard as a branding iron?
Maybe it was all that wallowing around in the snow, two healthy bodies rubbing against each other creating a little heat and friction. For sure, he knew her breasts were full and firm, her body sexy and slender, and for heaven’s sake, she’d fit against his cock like she’d been built for it. She’d bucked like a wild filly against him and although he knew it hadn’t been her intent, she’d been damned wanton under him. The heat scalding his dick at the feel of her soft body beneath his—huh, he’d had to knock her out or go for the prize.
Wasn’t happening.
He never mixed business with pleasure. Besides, the woman was nothing but trouble. TNT in a skinny package made up of long legs, nice breasts, and a waist so small he just knew she looked incredible naked. Plain and simple, the woman was a bounty of sexy hills and valleys just waiting to be explored, tasted, and—mumbling about his rotten luck, he wound his way around the corner of her house and through the front gate to where he’d parked his car. Frustrated, and swearing with every breath, he dumped her in the passenger seat.
He popped open the glove compartment and dragged out a spare pair of handcuffs from inside. His lips curled with satisfaction as he drew her pale arms behind her and snapped the metal links around her fine-boned wrists. Crap! Did he have to think kinky? The cuffs were real, not sex toys, but oh, the games they could play with—Breathing hard, he leaned back and studied his captive. “Don’t think about it,” he advised himself. The last thing he needed was more trouble in his life. But hell, he felt manly, superior and all conquering. He’d beat the little tigress at her own game.
He slid his gaze over her features. Her face looked vaguely familiar. Duel frowned. “What the hell?” He eyed her vivid red hair. “Shit,” he huffed, “of all the lousy, rotten luck!”
In the dark, he hadn’t noticed her hair color, but under the dome light in the car, it was noteworthy, if a bit damp in places from the snow. Dismayed, he tilted her chin and noted a purple bruise darkening the delicate skin along her jaw line and some other unexplained scrapes he knew darn well he wasn’t responsible for causing. “Son of a screw-bob-bitch. Nicole. My Nicole.”
His Nicole? Yeah. His Nicole, who’d just gone winging off into the sunset fucking up any chance he ever had of fucking her. No way in hell would this fierce woman, who wielded a mean butcher knife, ever let him near her with his dick—unless she planned to lay it on the chop block.
He felt like howling his frustration. He was pretty sure he whimpered. And the cuffs he’d been fantasizing about became the tools of his trade—nothing kinky about them now.
Duel clutched his bleeding arm and panted. He swore. He cussed Samantha. The CIA. And the entire District of Columbia.
Oh yeah. He was pretty sure he cussed the world.
Nothing helped.
Nothing changed the facts.
This woman had still stabbed him. And he’d still punched her with his fist. On top of that, his shoulder ached like a mother. He wasn’t in a forgiving mood.
But for cripe’s sake, why did it have to be this woman? The first female he’d felt a spark of attraction to in months, and she had to go and be a major problem.
Lucky him. He’d captured the hot redhead he’d seen at the CIA building earlier tonight. He glanced at his watch, after midnight, so technically, yesterday now. Damn, he’d planned to find out who she was and ask her out to dinner. He’d wanted to spend a
few days wining and dining her, a few more bedding her.
He was pretty sure he could put the kibosh to all those plans. His gaze traced over the ugly bruise where he’d clipped her jaw. “Damn.” How could I have foreseen such a disaster?
Well. He held her captive, tigress that she was. She was handcuffed, his prisoner—now what the hell was he going to do with her?
Chapter Thirteen
No matter how bad things get, you got to go on living, even if it kills you.
~Sholom Aleichem
Castle Rock, Colorado
February 17, Tuesday
Three hours and fifteen minutes after the assassination…
Rafe McCord turned the Ford truck into the slot designated for room one-twenty-one of the Rocky Mountain Motel in Castle Rock, Colorado and killed the engine. Twelve hours of driving was enough!
For some time now, Lacey had used his right thigh for a pillow. She’d curled up on the seat hours ago and fell into an exhausted sleep mid-sentence. He hadn’t cared. He enjoyed guarding her, and her body and mind still needed rest and healing.
Most of the long miles, he’d rested his right hand in the wild tangle of her long thick hair, comforted by the warm intimacy of the cab, their solitude, and knowing this precious woman belonged to him. His wife. He had the legal right to hold her, kiss her, and make love to her without the consuming guilt he’d felt before.
Casually, he lifted her left hand and gazed at the simple gold band on her ring finger. His seal. Proof she belonged to him. Their wedding had taken place in Lacey’s hospital room. A simple ceremony, no outsiders, except for the two nurses who’d witnessed it. Neither he nor Lacey had any relatives to speak of, so they’d married quietly. It was the way they’d both wanted it.
The license lay neatly folded and tucked inside a plain white envelope in the glove compartment. Their wedding might have been quick and without fuss, but the little piece of paper with their names on it meant the world to him. Their future was tied together by a few words, words that had made him the luckiest man in the world.
Rafe rubbed the ring on her finger. Bright. Shiny. New. Like their love. God, he loved her. Weeks had passed since he’d last touched her intimately. Just like all the times before they were married, and Rafe had ached for her, his body hurt now. He needed her as much as ever, if not more than he’d needed her at Christmas when she’d melted in his arms.
Their marriage hadn’t been consummated yet. Rafe swallowed hard. He knew in his heart, it was going to be a while before Lacey was ready for him to touch her. She needed time. He’d give her all the time in the world, as long as she healed mentally and spiritually. He didn’t care how long it took. He’d wait for her forever if he had to.
God. He felt like he’d been blessed. Even there at the last, with all his plans and schemes to seduce Lacey away from Danger Blackstone, he’d never once counted on or believed he’d win her love or ever make her his wife.
His seduction schemes worked, but only because Lacey had been vulnerable and Danger had been fool enough to break her heart and spirit, then throw her away. Rafe didn’t know how he’d been so lucky. If it had been Danger’s reckless behavior or not, he didn’t care, he wasn’t about to question the gods that saw fit to let this woman fall in love with him.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he had a horrible fear that it’d all end, all crash down around his head and Lacey would fall out of love with him, leave him, and go back to Danger. If that’s what she wanted, of course he’d step aside and give her the freedom of choice. But he thought his heart would simply cease to beat if she ever decided she’d made a mistake loving him.
Parked in front of their motel room, Rafe smiled pleased at the distance he’d driven. He realized he’d savored every mile he took her away from Montana and Danger’s reach. Every mountain and hill he crossed, every mile marker he passed had been cause to secretly celebrate in his mind.
“Hey, wake up, sleepy head.” Rafe gently shook Lacey awake.
She stirred beneath his light touch, opened her eyes and sat up. She’d been asleep for the better part of the last four hours, not even stirring when he’d stopped to fill the tank or just now, when he’d checked them into a room. “Where are we?” she asked sleepily, yawning.
“Somewhere in Colorado. A few more hours and we’ll be in New Mexico.” Rafe pulled her close, tilted her face and took her mouth in a long, slow kiss. Reluctantly, he released her and rubbed his forehead against hers. “Hi there, Mrs. McCord.”
She smiled the first smile he’d seen on her mouth in a long time. “Hi, yourself.” Lacey wiggled closer, a sigh of contentment on her lips. “Let’s just stay right here. You’re so warm.”
“Uh-uh. It’s cold, sweetheart. It’s snowing like a sonofabitch. That’s why I stopped. It’s getting too hard to see and without chains, I was afraid we’d end up going through a fence. There’s about two foot of snow already. The wind is blowing incredible drifts. Another thirty minutes, and it’ll be impossible on the highways. We may be here a few days. Besides, I want to snuggle with you under the covers.” He kissed her again, savoring the softness of her mouth before slowly releasing it. “Stay here while I turn the heat on in the room and get our luggage. Are you hungry?”
“Mmm. Starving.”
“I saw an all-night diner across the street. Hamburgers and fries okay with you?”
She nodded. Rafe carried the luggage inside, flipped on the heating unit and returned to Lacey. Opening the truck door, he leaned inside. “If you want, wait right here until I get back with the food, by then, the room will be warm. Lock the door. And baby, don’t forget there’s a gun inside the glove compartment. Use it, if you have to.”
Her eyes widened. “You think Smitt—”
“No,” he was quick to assure her. “I don’t think he followed us, but I’m not willing to risk your life for a single second trying to out-think him.”
“Okay.”
He turned to leave, hating the thought of leaving her alone for even twenty minutes.
“Rafe?”
“Yeah?” He turned back at the serious note in her voice.
“I love you. I haven’t said that lately or nearly enough.” She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t even remember if I ever said it to you.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “That’s so unfair to you. I wanted you to know I haven’t changed my mind and I won’t. Danger and I—” she hesitated, then continued, “we lost something special, and I don’t mean only Joseph.” She searched his eyes, hers filled with utter despair. “We didn’t take care of what we had together, and it slipped away. I don’t want to make the same mistakes again.” Tears welled in her lovely eyes. “The failure of our marriage wasn’t his entire fault. I took him for granted. I thought he’d always be there for me. I don’t want that to happen to you and me. I plan to tell you every single day for the rest of my life I love you.” She paused and drew a deep breath, as if unsure how to continue. “I don’t want you to ever have doubts, think, or believe I’d cheat on you. In spite of his beliefs or what others might have told him, I didn’t cheat on Danger. Ever. Until you.”
“Lacey.” An ache settled deep in his heart. It rang in his voice. “Honey, don’t. You don’t have anything to feel guilty about.” Rafe shook his head when she opened her mouth to deny her feelings. “Don’t. I know you feel like you wronged him with me. Hell, I feel like I wronged him, but I know the kind of woman you are, baby. I know and knew you hadn’t been unfaithful to him. He just didn’t know or believe it. I know you’d never have let me touch you if you believed Danger loved you, or if you two stood a chance of saving what you had together. You aren’t the one who turned your back on your marriage.”
“I did. I gave up on him, and he was ill.”
“Yes. But he knew what he was doing. He walked away and left you with me because he had somewhere else to be and someone else waiting for him. He left you first, Lace. Danger gave up first. He never gave you a chance to face your accuser
s, let you deny or explain anything. He wanted you to sleep with me so he wouldn’t feel guilty for what he was doing to you.”
Lacey nodded. “I know. Maybe someday I’ll figure out what was going on inside his head. Maybe then I’ll accept that he stopped loving me and threw me away.”
“And I thank God he did, otherwise I couldn’t do this.” Rafe tugged her close and took her mouth with all the hunger pent-up inside his body. He swiped her lower lip with his tongue, nudging her lips apart in order to steal a deeper taste of her. Releasing her, he grinned. “I’ll never get my fill of tasting you.”
Lacey brushed a strand of his hair from his face, her touch gentle. “I’ve been given a second chance at life, Rafe…at love, at starting a family. I don’t want anything or anyone to steal it from us.”
“Baby.” He leaned inside and pulled her close, circled his arms around her and held her tight. “Nothing could ever make me stop loving you. I love you so much I ache with the need for you. You have no idea how badly I want to start a family with you, but only when you’re ready. Never will I ever do a single thing to hurt you or make you doubt my love for you, or give you reason to regret marrying me. I swear to you, I’ll never touch another woman. Hell, I won’t even look at another woman.”
She leaned back, grinned, and ran her gaze over his face. “I’m willing to bet there’s a woman working over there at that diner. I don’t expect you to walk in there with your eyes shut or go through life wearing blinders.” She palmed the side of his face. “What kind of miserable life would that be for you? I don’t doubt you, Rafe, but what took place between us happened so sudden.”
“Yes, for you maybe, but honey, I’d been in love with you for three years. They were long, miserable years where I kept turning and walking away from the one woman I wanted so much I thought my skin was going to burst. It didn’t happen fast for me. For us. I simply had to wait for you to catch up.”
Playing For Keeps (Montana Men) Page 15
