by Cindy Dees
Bass typed on his laptop for a while, and she lost herself in contemplating the woulda, shoulda, couldas. First on that list would be never, ever going to the police to accuse Lonnie Grange of anything, no matter how terrible a monster he was.
Bass spoke abruptly, startling her. “Says here Lonnie went to jail on racketeering and money laundering charges.”
“That makes sense. Shelly and Mrs. B weren’t around to accuse him of abuse or assault.”
“So, he was physical with them, then?” Bass asked evenly. His voice betrayed nothing, but Carrie sensed tension in him.
“Of course he was. Not that Shelly or her mom ever complained to the police—or anyone—about it for that matter. They were too scared of him.”
“Sounds like an asshole.”
“A gigantic sucking one with an oozing rash,” she added vehemently.
Bass grinned. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel about him?”
She answered soberly, “Scared enough to run for the past seven years.”
Bass tilted his head, studying her. “It all makes sense now. The nomadic life as a camerawoman. Very little contact with your family. The lack of friends. The name change.” He nodded. “You’re hiding.”
“Darned straight I am. Lonnie Grange is the scariest person I’ve ever met.”
Bass’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Then you haven’t seen me in full combat mode.”
That made her blink. Bass scarier than Grange? The thought was laughable. Bass was a certified, card-carrying good guy.
“You can’t run forever, you know,” he commented.
“Sure I can. I’ve been doing it for a long time. No reason I can’t keep on doing it.”
“What about you? Are you happy?”
“I’m alive,” she retorted.
“What if you want to have a family someday?”
“Not in the cards for me,” she replied bitterly.
“Do you like being alone? Without friends? Estranged from your family?”
She scowled at him, but paused to give the questions actual thought. She rarely paused to question her path since it was the only path that kept her alive.
Bass pushed, “If you had a choice, if you could live some other way, would you? What life would you build for yourself if Grange was out of the picture?”
She stared at Bass, shocked. Was it possible? Was there a way to be free of the ever-present pall of fear that hung over every breath she took? Did she dare hope? “How?” she breathed.
Bass shrugged. “There’s always a bigger, badder fish in the pond. If Grange understands that he’ll be eaten if he comes after you, he’ll back off.”
She wilted. “I’m no shark.”
Bass smiled coldly. “I am.”
She stared at him. “I can’t ask you to get involved in my personal life.”
“Fine. Then involve me in a police investigation of the guy.”
“How?”
“Does Grange know you’re working for your uncle?”
She considered. “I doubt it. I’m never on camera, and I work under my new name.”
“So, it’s entirely possible that his guys went after your uncle as a means of finding you, without realizing you were already right under his nose.”
Horror erupted in her chest. Was she responsible for Gary’s kidnapping after all? Oh, God. Her chest squeezed tight and drawing breath became nearly impossible. Without waiting for Bass to prompt her, she started holding her breath, counting and exhaling slowly, the way he’d taught her.
Eventually, she was able to answer him, “I guess it’s possible Lonnie’s guys went after Gary to find me.”
Bass nodded briskly. “It’s a valid line of inquiry. I’ll send the fingerprints we lifted from Gary’s apartment up to New York and see if they get any hits on the assailants. I’ll also send out a request for a list of known associates of Lonnie Grange. We’ll run financials on them and see if any of his boys have headed down this way recently.” He typed in his computer in a rapid burst and then leaned back with a satisfied expression on his face.
“And in the meantime, you’re with me. This jackass gets no chance to hurt you until you’ve faced him down and won.”
“I can’t face him!” she exclaimed in horror.
“You can, and you will.”
“No way—”
He cut her off. “You won’t be alone, Carrie. I’ll be with you. I’ll help you be strong.”
She shook her head stubbornly. “I can’t do it. The last time I tangled with him, Shelly and her mom disappeared. Because of me, Bass. Their blood is on my hands.”
Bass stared deeply into her eyes and spoke seriously. “Their blood is on the hands of whoever killed them. Not you. If nobody has the courage to stand up to evil, then evil wins. Yes, there can be a tragic cost to confronting evil, but it has to be confronted, nonetheless. You did the right thing.”
“My friend is dead.”
“How many more people would be dead if you hadn’t blown the whistle on him?”
And therein lay the heart of her guilt. She hadn’t told the police everything about Lonnie Grange. How many more women would he attack because she’d been too afraid to speak up?
“He needs to be stopped,” she declared.
“He needs to be taken out behind the woodshed and shot,” Bass snorted.
She couldn’t kill the guy! She must have looked alarmed because Bass added, “We’ll do this by the book. There won’t be violence unless Grange starts something. And if he does, I’ll finish it. I’ll finish him.”
Bass said the words quietly, but the cold conviction underlying them warmed Carrie’s heart like nothing she’d heard in a very long time.
Hope flickered to life in her heart, and she hugged Mr. Paddles tight. It was scary as heck to think about taking on Lonnie Grange, but oh, the possibilities if she won. A home. Friends. A dog. Heck, maybe even a family. Longing flared in her gut for everything she’d ever dreamed of having as a kid that Lonnie Grange had stolen from her. Could Bass truly give her dreams back to her?
She looked up at him, her heart in her throat. “What do we do first?”
Chapter 11
Bass studied Carrie carefully, intrigued by the light in her eyes. He’d never seen it there before. It looked like...hope. He wanted to put a lot more of it in her eyes and make it permanent. She deserved to live a normal life.
And he might just have a vested interest in getting her to a place where she could settle down. Stay in one place. Consider long-term relationships.
“Do you have all your personal possessions with you?” he asked her.
“Everything’s in the van. I was on my way out of town when I came here to get Mr. Paddles.”
“Perfect. You’re staying with me until Grange is dealt with.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
He snorted. “Honey, I’ve taken out entire international terrorist networks. Some two-bit thug who picks on women is easy.”
Carrie launched herself from her end of the couch and threw her arms around his neck. He caught her lithe body in his arms, relishing the sweet feel of her pressed up against him. She was like a wild thing only he could tame, a fey creature he’d miraculously managed to lure close.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“No thanks required. It’s what I do.”
“Still. I’m grateful.”
He stared down at her, and she stared up at him. An entire, unspoken conversation happened between them. Her desperate need to be free of the specter of her past, his compulsion to protect her from harm, both of their confusion at why they felt so irrevocably drawn to each other.
“What is this thing between us?” she asked, low.
“Whatever it is, it’s meant to be.” He added ruefully, “I’v
e tried my damnedest to fight it, and I failed.”
She smiled up at him. “I know the feeling.” She continued slowly, “When I thought I was leaving town, my one regret was never seeing you again. I almost didn’t go.”
“Promise me you won’t ever leave again without saying goodbye.” He had to have a chance to talk her out of going if she tried to run again. To fight for her.
She stared up at him for a long time. Then, “I promise.”
He leaned down and kissed her then, and her arms tightened around his neck. “I need to know you’re not a flight risk,” he murmured against her lips.
“I don’t want to go anywhere,” she murmured back, kissing him with sweet passion. “This is exactly where I want to be.”
He stood up, sweeping her up with him, her weight nothing in his arms. He strode back to his bedroom, carrying her in his arms, kissing her all the while so she would know he didn’t think of her as a child.
And besides, he couldn’t stop himself. He’d almost lost her, tonight, and the residual panic of that rode him hard, poking like a knife into his ribs. She could be exasperating, but now that he’d gotten to the bottom of her frustrating refusal to stand her ground and fight, he understood her much better.
If anything, his need to protect her had only grown with her admissions.
He laid her down on his bed, relishing the sight of her sleek body, her eyes warm as she looked up at him, a come-hither smile on her lips. He murmured, “God, you’re beautiful.”
Her gaze went bashful. Did she really not know how desirable she was? He stretched out beside her, shucking her clothes efficiently as he spoke. “Good thing you never stayed in one place long enough to have a steady boyfriend. Otherwise, he’d have convinced you of just how attractive you are, and you wouldn’t ever have given me the time of day.”
Her hands plucked at the buttons on his shirt and then at his belt buckle. “I still don’t understand what a guy like you sees in someone like me. You’re about as close to perfect as anyone I’ve ever met.”
He grinned and leaned down to kiss her neck, inhaling the soft scent of her skin. “Then you haven’t met many people, have you? I have tons of flaws.”
She arched up into him, her bare hands skimming across his chest muscles and making them jump beneath her palms. “Name me your flaws,” she challenged.
He rolled her onto her back and kissed his way down to the gentle valley between her breasts. He could lay his head there forever and die a happy man. The quick, light beat of her heart was music to his ears. “Well,” he drawled, “I’ve been told I’m stubborn.”
“More like pigheaded.” She laughed as she wrapped her legs around his hips, rubbed her core against his erection, and made him groan with pleasure.
“And I’m overbearing.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she teased as her body undulated invitingly against his.
“I won’t take no for an answer,” he muttered. Damn. He was actually a little out of breath at the mere idea of making love to her.
“Well now, that’s not necessarily a flaw in the right situation.”
He was having trouble following the conversation. The silken slide of her stomach beneath his lips and her fingers spearing hungrily into his hair were distracting as hell.
She tugged on his head and he rose up her body, kissing a path across her golden skin. And then her mouth captured his, open and warm and inviting, like her body and soul. “Make love to me, Bass.”
He positioned himself above her, and then, looking deep, deep, into her dark, sultry eyes, eased into the tight sheath of her body. His eyes all but rolled back in his head at the glorious sensation of her slick heat clutching at his arousal, pulling him deeper and clenching him close when he would retreat.
“More,” she gasped.
He groaned, fighting to restrain himself, hanging onto reason by a slim thread. But then she grabbed his glutes and pulled him all the way to the hilt within her. “Mmm. Better,” she purred.
“You’re an evil temptress,” he growled.
“Then give in to the temptation,” she replied breathlessly. Her hips moved impatiently against his, and he was lost. He surged into her, shuddering with pleasure. He withdrew partway and surged again. She arched up to meet him thrust for thrust, and his mind was blown by the passionate abandon with which she made love to him. He thought she’d been amazing before—but their previous lovemaking was nothing compared to tonight.
He stared down into her eyes, amazed at how generously and joyfully she met him, sharing her body and heart without reservation. Lord, the courage of this woman. She’d been living in her own private hell for years, but even the suggestion of breaking free was enough to transform her from a frightened mouse into a soaring falcon.
His body enforced a rhythm of its own upon the moment, and their lovemaking picked up in speed and intensity. But Carrie matched him every step of the way, her cries of ecstasy rising to mingle with his own shout of staggering joy as they took each other to the moon and back.
He sagged above her, supporting his spent body on his elbows, his forehead resting against hers. She clung to him with everything she had, arms and legs and internal muscles, and he felt more wanted, more loved, in that moment than he could ever recall.
“Am I crushing you?” he managed to mumble.
“Don’t you dare move,” she panted back.
His heart was pounding like a jackhammer, and not entirely from exertion. This woman did things to him that no other woman did. She made him feel things. Emotions. Possessiveness. Protectiveness. Joy. Hell, awe.
“You’re magnificent,” he murmured. He kissed her brow, her temple, burying his nose in her hair and relishing the silky slide of it against his skin.
“Gee, I was about to say the same thing to you,” she replied.
“We’re agreed, then. You’re perfect for me.”
“Am I?” she asked in a small voice. “You’re sure about that?”
He laughed. “Honey, I’ve been around the block a time or two, and I’m here to tell you that you’re one-of-a-kind.”
“Thank you, I think?”
He kissed her nose playfully. “I’m besotted. You’ve done me in.”
She smiled up at him, and he could swear those were tears glistening in her eyes.
“Hey. What’s wrong?” he asked quickly.
“Nothing. I’m just happy. I never dreamed I might have a chance at finding a man like you, let alone a chance at escaping Lonnie.”
“Consider yourself already escaped. Now all we have to do is make sure he knows he’s lost his hold over you.”
Her eyes went dark and fearful, and Bass kissed her again quickly. “Don’t think about him now. Focus on me. On us. On how incredible you make me feel...”
* * *
Carrie rolled over lazily, stretching residual stiffness from her muscles. After the third time they made love, Bass told her to take a nap, and she’d been happy to crash in the cool and dark of his windowless bedroom. Who knew it was possible to feel this happy? Overflowingly so. Not that she had any illusions that Lonnie Grange would go down without a fight. But she wasn’t alone now. Having a man like Bass in her corner made all the difference.
She strolled out into the living room wearing one of Bass’s T-shirts, which was a minidress on her. She pulled up short. Bass was sitting on the sofa, shirtless, laptop on his jeans-clad thighs, typing away. She demanded, “What are you still doing here? I thought you’d be out saving the world by now!”
He looked up at her and smiled. “I told you I’m with you until this Grange character is no longer a threat. I do need to go into the office this afternoon, though. You up for a field trip to a police department?”
“I’ve already been to your office,” she reminded him.
He grinned. “Yeah,
but I got you out of there as fast as I could. You didn’t catch the full broadside of interrogation about you and me from my fellow cops.”
“Sounds intimidating.”
He shook his head. “It’s a pain in the ass working with such nosy people. But I have no choice. You’re not leaving my side until this situation is resolved.”
“You gonna arrest me?” she teased. “Handcuff me to you?”
He looked up at her, eyes glinting in amusement. “Don’t tempt me.” He surged to his feet and she squealed, dodging him and running for the kitchen. He snagged her waist on the way past and spun her around easily, catching her against his big, delicious body.
“I hope you’re not too hungry,” he murmured, kissing her until her knees went weak.
“If you promise to make me one of your world-famous omelets, I could be convinced to delay eating for a little while,” she teased, nipping at his lower lip until he growled and slid his hand behind her head, deepening the kiss until she forgot to breathe.
His sofa turned out to accommodate a large man and a small woman with no problem whatsoever. Of course it helped that their bodies twined together, and that both of them were feeling a little lazy after last night. They made slow, sensual love, smiling and trading murmured words of praise and pleasure until she was practically delirious with joy. Bass LeBlanc liked her. Enough to fight for her.
No one had ever put himself on the line for her before.
It was kind of spectacular to think about.
Bass made taking down Grange sound so easy. But in the hard light of day, she knew it wouldn’t be a walk in the park. Lonnie Grange was a dangerous man, and he wouldn’t take kindly to being crossed. The old fear crept into her mind insidiously. Was this a crazy idea? Supremely stupid? Was she endangering not only herself but Bass? It would be so much easier just to run away.
“Don’t psych yourself out,” Bass murmured, sitting up and pulling her into his lap.
