Linda broke the silence. “Should we go now?”
“Finish dinner,” Ben said. “Liz and I are about to leave.” And tomorrow he was going to find Carlos Sanchez.
* * *
When Ben decided it was a risk for his young cousin to stay at the ranch, the evening’s illusion of safety shattered. None of them were going to be safe until Carlos Sanchez was dead. Even worse, Liz noted a new determination in Ben that told her he knew the same thing—and planned to do something about it.
Once Linda and Allie left, Ben joined Liz in the den.
“I’ve got a motel in mind for us,” he said.
“You mean like the hotel where Captain Medina registered me under an alias?”
“Big hotels mean lots of employees, which means bigger risk. The place I have in mind is respectable and small.”
“How about some place where there’s no chance they’ll find us?”
“You’re thinking the Senator’s house,” he said.
Liz nodded. “He returned to Washington today. The only people there are the permanent staff.”
Ben agreed and, an hour later, they were shown to the same rooms they’d occupied the night before. Liz was relieved to have Ben in the next room, and at the same time wished with all her might that she had the willpower to sleep in his arms without asking him to make love to her. But she didn’t, which was why, after laying awake for an hour imagining him killed by a bullet, knife or speeding car, she finally resigned herself to the truth: she couldn’t let him go without touching him, without having him inside her.
She would accept nothing less than his promise to come back in one piece, and he had to accept that tonight was about two people needing each other for the moment. Nothing more.
Liz stripped off her bra and panties and slipped into the robe she’d been given. She went to the door and peeked into the hallway. Deserted.
Liz stepped out, clicked her door shut, then hurried to Ben’s room. She reached for the knob, then stopped. Ben would be out of his bed and have her on the floor before he realized the intruder was the woman he was supposed to protect. The idea had some appeal, she owned up with a silent laugh, but she was too old to be thrown to the ground—and then perform with any finesse.
She knocked and in two seconds, the door opened. Ben stood as he had last night, jeans-clad and shirtless. Her heart jumped to a gallop.
“What’s wrong, Liz?”
“I’ll show you.” She brushed past him into the room.
Ben closed the door. As he turned, Liz let the robe slip from her shoulders.
He stopped cold.
Liz stepped close and flattened her palms on his chest. “Don’t you read too much into this. I’m scared. We both need some rest and God knows we need to relieve the stress. So you just remember that—”
He cut her off with a kiss. Before she could respond, he turned her, pinning her to the door with his body and crushing her breasts against his bare chest. Heat rocketed through her. His mouth ravished hers and her head whirled when he thrust his tongue into her mouth. He twirled his tongue with hers and undulated his hips. Her head spun and she moaned.
He broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Liz, I’ve resisted, God knows, I have, but another instant—one instant—and I won’t be able to stop. If you don’t want—”
She pulled his mouth down to hers.
He kissed her long and hard. When her knees went weak, he swept her into his arms and crossed to the bed. Ben lowered her onto the mattress, coming down on her in a wall of yielding muscle, pressing her into the bed in a delicious warmth that stole her breath. The juncture between her legs throbbed with every beat of her heart.
He broke the kiss and raked his teeth over her jaw, moving lower, down her neck and collarbone to the swell of her breasts. When his lips grazed a hardened nipple she drew a sharp breath and he gently sucked the bud into his mouth. He rocked his hips and the brush of his skin sent a skitter across her flesh that collided with the erotic warmth of his mouth around her nipple.
Desire streaked through her. Too much and not enough, all at the same time. She wanted all of him—now—but feared the end, and wanted the end to remain in the future, always in the future where he remained safe.
Ben’s hand skimmed her thigh, her stomach, shoulder, then neck, all the while his mouth teased one nipple then the next until she couldn’t tell where his hands ended and his mouth began. Her flesh caught fire and she seized his shoulders. He laughed low against her breast, then his mouth trailed a wet kiss toward her ear.
“I love the way you feel.” His breath warmed the sensitive flesh and he nipped her earlobe.
A tremor rocked her stomach and she knew an instant of fear. Fear for how this man made her feel. Fear for the power he could exert over her. Fear for how deeply she was starting to care for him.
He gave a low laugh, as if reading her thoughts, and Liz shuddered. Then he reached between her legs. His fingers dipped into her channel and a wave of embarrassment swept through her at the realization of how wet she’d become.
His fingers grazed her sensitive sex, she arched into him before thinking. His scent—their scent—hung thick and sweet in the air and left her dizzy with need. He stroked her with sure fingers until she couldn’t stand the pleasure any longer her body exploded and she tensed with pleasure. She groaned, then threw her legs around his hips and rocked against his erection until the orgasm faded.
“Liz,” his hoarse whisper sent a shiver of desire through her.
She reached for his shaft. Her mouth went dry at the weight of his velvety steel in her hand. Liz couldn’t wait. She fitted him to her. He started to ease in, but she grasped his buttocks and arched as she pulled him inside hard and fast. He drew a sharp breath and she knew exactly how he felt. She drew back, then arched again. He didn’t hesitate, but thrust—hard. Her breath caught, and she buried her face in his neck. His ragged breath tickled the sensitive spot where neck met shoulder and she felt another orgasm begin to build.
Liz nipped at his shoulder and tasted the salty tang of his skin. He growled and drove deeper into her. A violent wave broke over her and pleasure tensed her body. He burst apart inside her and his arms tightened around her so that she could barely breathe. This was the way to go. He groaned again, deep, long, and with male satisfaction that sent a wave of pleasure clear to her core. When he stiffened, his buttocks hardened beneath her fingers and another orgasm swept through her. He thrust slowly, stroking until the orgasm passed, then relaxed on top of her.
Gradually, she became aware of the beat of his heart against hers. He slid off her and pulled her to him, chest to chest, and wrapped his arms around her.
“I’m reading a helluva lot into this,” he said.
“Ben—”
“Hush, Liz. You’re not going to change my mind.”
He traced lazy circles on her leg. Her heart beat fast again and she wondered if he would make love a second time. After a while his hand stilled, then twitched, and for a long time she lay awake listening to his shallow, even breaths.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ben woke in the night and they made love again. Sometime before dawn, Liz fell asleep with her head on his arm and Ben watched her sleep, his body aroused for the third time that night. At some point, he dozed off, and woke to find the sheets beside him empty.
He found Liz dressed and sipping coffee in the breakfast nook off the kitchen. The cook and housekeeper bustled in and out and he couldn’t do more than greet Liz and ask for coffee. If he hadn’t known better—and he didn’t—he would almost think she had planned the situation so she could avoid a discussion of what had happened between them. And he planned to discuss it before they reached Las Cruces.
When they got in the truck, he waited until he’d pulled onto the road before saying, “I don’t regret last night.”
She looked at him, brows raised. “You seemed satisfied. There’s nothing to regret.”
He shot
her a reproachful glance. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“I told you not to read too much into it.”
He braked at a stop sign and looked at her as the car to his left started through the intersection. “Do you regret it?”
Her expression softened. “Of course not.”
Ben released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, then accelerated through the intersection. “I suppose there’s not much else to say right now, then,” he said, surprising himself. “When I get back—”
Liz laid a hand on his arm. “Just come back, Ben.”
He squeezed her hand. “Count on it.”
She pulled her hand free of his grasp and he wondered how he was going to leave her. A silver SUV pulled up on the right as he slowed at the light. He shifted his gaze past Liz, but movement in the corner of his eye caused him to turn his head as a black Hummer pulled up alongside them in the opposing left-hand lane.
“What in the world?” Liz said, but Ben shoved her head toward the console. “Stay down!” he shouted, and slammed the accelerator.
The truck shot forward through the red light and the deserted intersection. Rubber squealed and the Hummer and SUV jettisoned after them. The glint of a large-bore handgun flashed outside the passenger window of the Hummer.
A staccato of shots sounded. Liz screamed and threw her arms over her head as Ben hunched low in the seat. The driver’s and passenger’s windows shattered. Nuggets of glass sprayed them. Ben straighten enough to recon the situation. Cracks and holes spattered the windshield.
The SUV pulled alongside on the right, then blew past and skidded to a halt at an angle in front of them. Ben slammed the brakes and yanked the wheel hard left. His seat belt clamped down. Tires skidded in a high-pitched wail. His truck slid sideways, closer, closer, not stopping.
The side of the truck bed slammed into the SUV with a bone-deep jolt. The front end reversed direction upon impact, pinning the SUV. Liz cried out. The truck ground to a halt. Ben yanked the gun from his ankle holster as something hissed like a blown tire.
Ben clicked his belt free, then released the latch on Liz's belt. “Get on the floorboard.” He grabbed the door handle.
“Try it, motherfucker,” came a voice through the passenger window.
Ben froze. The voice belonged to the American goon who had kidnapped Liz. Ben slowly turned and faced him. He held a 9mm semi through the passenger window, aimed at Liz. The Hummer pulled up on his side of the truck. A door opened. An instant later, the cold metal of a gun barrel pressed his neck.
“Give me your gun,” said the Mexican who had helped kidnap Liz.
Ben rotated slowly. The barrel pressed harder against his neck.
“Give me your gun, now,” the man said.
Ben jerked when the American yanked open Liz's door.
“Don't move,” the American growled.
He seized Liz’s arm, pulled her up and hugged her to his chest. Her breasts rose and fell in quick breaths, then stilled when he pressed a curved filet knife to her neck below the right ear. Ben's heart hammered. One swipe of the razor-sharp knife would sever her jugular and windpipe.
He met Liz's gaze and read in her eyes the same question that burned inside him: how did they find us?
He willed her to stay calm.
“Sanchez needs me alive,” Ben said. “He needs to know who I am.” He hoped like hell that was still true. The fact his men found them could mean Sanchez already knew the truth.
“You don't know what Sanchez needs,” the American snapped. “We can kill you here.”
“Nope,” Ben said. “If that was true, we’d already be dead. You need us.”
The man's mouth twisted in a satisfied smile and he hugged Liz tighter. “Sanchez doesn’t need her.”
The muzzle pressed deeper into Ben's neck and blood roared in his ears on a tidal wave of fear.
Easy, he told himself. Panic will get Liz’s throat cut.
He still gripped his weapon. Ten years as a sniper. He was the best. But was he good enough? Could he get the gun up fast enough to shoot the American before the gun digging into his neck fired? And could he hit Liz’s assailant and not her while making that quick a shot?
* * *
The razor-sharp blade dug into Liz’s neck. Her heart pounded. If she panicked and fought, the American would hurt her, and Ben wouldn’t restrain himself. The Mexican would pull the trigger. Hot breath filled her ear and she cringed.
Her captor chuckled. “You feeling what I’m feeling, baby doll?” He licked her neck from shoulder to ear.
Her stomach roiled.
Ben’s jaw visibly tightened. Stay calm, Liz pleaded with her eyes.
The forearm tightened around her waist and her stomach churned harder.
“The gun,” the Mexican hissed to Ben.
Ben lifted the gun, which hung from his forefinger though the trigger guard. Fear caused Liz’s stomach to convulse. She swallowed and tried to ignore her captor’s hot breath. Once Ben handed over his weapon, they were dead. The Mexican reached for the gun.
The American pulled her backwards. The knife blade shifted against her neck. She backpedaled on the truck’s floorboards in hopes of taking the strain off the knife and maybe loosening his hold.
Ben lashed upward with his gun, now fisted like brass knuckles. He hit the Mexican in the face and, with his free hand, grabbed and lifted the barrel of the man’s gun. Blood spurted from the Mexican’s nose as he shouted. Ben swung a leg onto the seat and launched himself through his door. A gunshot blasted. Both men disappeared in a tangle on the pavement.
The American yanked Liz out of the truck and her heels hit the ground. She scrambled for purchase. He spun her around and she glimpsed the back of his hand an instant before it cracked against her cheek. The force of the blow staggered her, but he yanked her against him. She gasped for breath amid the throbbing pain in her face.
Breathe, she ordered her body, but her lungs didn’t seem to work.
Memory flitted of the time she’d fallen off her uncle’s horse and had the wind knocked out of her. That had been nothing like this. This time, she couldn't seem to catch her breath. The sound of a fist crashing into bone caused her to cringe.
Ben.
A siren wailed in the distance. The American snapped his head in the direction of the sound. Liz clawed at the arm that restricted her breathing. He turned and she caught sight of the Hummer and a young man standing beside the open driver’s side door. The American dragged her toward the vehicle.
“Where’s Jorge?” the young man shouted.
She twisted, clawing her captor’s eyes and raking his flesh.
“Bitch.” He grabbed her arms and yanked them down so hard her left shoulder felt as if it detached from the socket. “I'm going to kill your boyfriend, then fuck you until you scream.” He pinned her elbows to her sides with one arm and dragged her toward the Hummer.
“Where’s Jorge?” the youth demanded.
“Open the fucking door,” the American ordered as Liz twisted in an effort to break free.
The young man cast a glance past them.
“Now,” the American shouted. “Fuck up your first job and I’ll kill you myself.”
The young man jumped to open the passenger door. The American shoved her inside. Her head struck the doorjamb. She gasped in pain. Darkness blanketed her brain and, the next second, her cheek contacted the seat.
“Drive,” the American ordered, then jumped into the back with her.
Car doors slammed. She scrambled to the far side of the vehicle, suddenly confused as to where she was. The engine roared to life as she remembered Ben. She had to get out. Her head whirled amidst a chaos of prickle points that felt like a thousand tiny needles.
She fumbled for the door handle. Her fingers closed around the armrest, then froze. The American aimed a gun through his open window. The vehicle jumped forward. Ben and the Mexican came into view near the truck. The American’s g
un leveled on them as the Mexican landed a hard blow to Ben’s jaw.
“No!” she screamed.
Liz lunged, landing against the American’s shoulder as the gun blasted. Pain lanced her eardrums. A siren penetrated the ringing in her ears. Her heart leapt. Police. The American twisted and shoved her so hard that she slammed against the door. Liz cried out. The siren grew louder.
The police are close.
Liz fumbled for the door handle, found purchase and pulled. She yanked harder. Harder. Harder. Nothing. Child safety locks. The vehicle was outfitted with child safety doors? The Hummer swung hard right and the door handle slipped from her grasp as she swayed left. She caught sight of Ben lying on the asphalt between the truck and the SUV, the Mexican a few feet away. The siren drew closer. The Hummer accelerated like a rocket. Liz struck the seat back as Ben disappeared from view.
Chapter Twenty-Four
A siren screamed and Ben thought his head would split. Pain stabbed bone deep in his ribs. He blinked his surroundings into focus and stared across a sea of asphalt. He managed to lift his head off the pavement and shove to one knee before he faltered. He caught himself with a hand on the asphalt and pushed to his feet. That’s when he saw the Mexican lying on the road near the hood of his truck. And remembered.
Liz.
Ben spun a three-sixty. His surroundings blurred and he grabbed for the open door of his truck to steady himself.
Gone. She was gone.
His heart pounded. The SUV sat where it had when he’d crashed into it, but the Hummer was nowhere in sight. Fear rammed through him like thunder. Sanchez’s American goon had Liz.
A skid of tires on asphalt screeched behind him and the wail of police siren penetrated the deafening roar of blood in his ears.
“Put your hands on your head,” an officer shouted.
Ben turned to face a black and white squad car twenty feet away. Two police officers crouched behind the open doors of the car, pistols trained on him.
Ben forced calm. He had to get the cops moving in order to have a chance of saving Liz. “I'm Ben Hunter, Texas Ranger.”
Abducted: Reconnaissance Team (Texas Rangers: Special Ops Book 1) Page 18
