The little girl stirred but didn’t waken. From an early age, neither Eliza nor Tabitha had experienced a mother’s love. He wasn’t going to waste time feeling sorry for himself. Rose had always hated whiners, had always hated being the center of attention.
Nat walked around the bed, slid his arms beneath Eliza and lifted her up. Thankfully there was no gun tucked under the pillow. She snuggled closer to his chest, burrowing into his arms. Leaning down, he kissed her hair and caught a hint of her scent.
Nat carried her through the empty house and placed her carefully on his bed. He was too numb to feel rage and even misery was moving beyond him. Too battered to want to do more than search for comfort any way he could.
He undressed, dampened down the stray emotions that threatened to fill his chest, slid into bed and pulled Eliza close. Murmuring something unintelligible she snuggled closer.
Nat lay awake, staring up at the ceiling. His mother had been the mainstay of his life. Now she was gone. He’d known she was ill—hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the reality that she might actually die. Rubbing his chin in Eliza’s hair, he reflexively tightened his grip, he didn’t know what he was going to do about Eliza, but he didn’t want to let her go, not yet.
Maybe not ever.
He’d gone and fallen in love with her and that scared the shit out of him. God knows, he’d been hurt by Nina’s betrayal, he didn’t want to go though that annihilation again.
His jaw ached from the effort of keeping his emotions in check and his heart thudded against his ribs. He’d promised his parents that he’d save the ranch and he wouldn’t give up. Debt was his middle name, encumbered by a family that was splintered around the edges. He could never leave.
Nat growled softly under his breath. What about Cal? Ezra? Who’d employ an ex-con, and an old man who should’ve retired years ago?
Eliza moaned in her sleep and he soothed her with a kiss on the temple.
Tomorrow’s sale of Venus’ woods might generate enough money to get them out of this year’s mess, but what about next year? Where would he get the money to build the indoor arena he needed to train other people’s mounts during the winter? The vultures were circling and Troy Strange was the most ravenous one waiting to pick over the bones.
Hell. The son of a bitch was the last person Nat wanted taking anything from him. His stomach pitched and rolled with a mixture of hate and dread.
Eliza whimpered and twitched in her sleep, pulling him back from his thoughts. He wished he could dispel the sadness that crept upon her, darkened her eyes and doused her happiness.
It would take time. The one thing he figured he didn’t have with Eliza.
The tempo of her breathing changed, tension invading her muscles as she started to writhe under the covers as if running away.
He leaned over her, brushed a strand of hair off her forehead. “Eliza, wake up, honey.”
Green eyes opened, wide and shocked, but she relaxed on a sigh. Realization crowded her gaze and chased away the vestiges of sleep and tears formed on her lashes. She reached up to cup his cheek.
“I’m so sorry about your mom.”
Tears slid down the sides of her face, staining the pillow. Nat held her gaze even though he didn’t want to. He traced a tear with a blunt finger and wiped it away. Some things were too important to avoid. Nodding, he let the misery slide through his mind and acknowledged the pain.
She tried to smile at him, but her lips trembled too badly to pull it off. He couldn’t read the emotions that shone in the depths of her eyes, but reminded himself that sympathy was a poor substitute for love.
Now wasn’t the time to figure it out.
She leaned up. Pressed her lips to his in a gentle caress. Time hovered slowly and she drew out the touch until it was saturated with longing. Nat savored the feel of her lips against his. Tasted each kiss, and let them feed his sorrow.
He undressed her slowly. Lay back when she moved over him. Let her soothe his hurts and absorb his misery with kisses and unbearable gentleness. Oblivion loomed over him with an intensity that burned white behind his eyelids. He grabbed onto the passion, ignored death that hovered in the background like a soundtrack. He didn’t want to feel anything but Eliza’s breath on his body or her touch on his skin. Pain and heartbreak could wait.
SEVENTEEN
Learjet, April 16th
“DeLattio escaped?” Sick with dread Marsh paced the passageway of the jet.
Half an hour ago he’d been feeling great, wide-awake and alert after a few hours sleep. The anticipation of finding Elizabeth and Josephine had zinged along his nerves like electricity. Now his good mood sank below a rising tide of fear.
“Someone poisoned the agents assigned guard duty—Bob Butler and Peter Wade.” Dancer grimaced, tapped more keys on his laptop. Marsh hadn’t known the agents personally, but his stomach twisted anyway.
“Sodium cyanide. DeLattio’s lawyer was found with a 9 mm gunshot wound to the head.”
“Christ,” Marsh stuffed his hands in his pockets, alarmed at the turn of events. “And Ron Moody said Stone Creek, Montana?”
A sheriff from a small town in Montana had put in a request for an ID on fingerprints that turned out to be Elizabeth’s.
“Yeah.” Steve Dancer pointed to a GPS map on the computer screen. “Gave me the usual bullshit, but that’s where he said. And it lines up with Josephine’s route. She’s heading north on Highway 15. If we fly straight to Kalispell we could be waiting for her when she arrives.”
Marsh thought about it and liked the idea. He’d love to see the look on her face. Turning, he gave the orders for the pilot to change the flight plan. Still restless, he paced up and down the corridor, examining their plan for loopholes.
“How do we find Elizabeth once we get to this place?” Marsh grabbed an apple from the complimentary bowl, thought about the effects of cyanide and changed his mind.
“The local sheriff is a guy named Talbot. I figure we contact him first, find out what he knows.” Dancer reclined in his leather seat, stretched his arms over his head and yawned.
“What if she bolted?” Marsh felt uneasy about this. Elizabeth wouldn’t have stayed in one place for so long, not when she’d had a run in with the local sheriff.
“We just keep on tracking Josephine.” Dancer nodded to the red dot moving across the screen. “Sooner or later those two gals are going to hook up.”
And they’d be ready...you betcha.
Marsh prayed it was sooner.
If DeLattio being on the loose wasn’t bad enough, he’d also got a call from Director Lovine telling him Peter Uri had given his surveillance team the slip. Marsh didn’t like the timing, didn’t believe in coincidence. The assassin seemed to know DeLattio’s moves before he did. Or maybe Uri had a different agenda.
The FBI had to have a leak, but no one had traced it yet. That meant chances were Peter Uri was on his way to Stone Creek, Montana, just like they were. Marsh peeled a banana and ate without enthusiasm.
He’d baited a trap with a woman who might well be carrying his child, never expecting two predators to be unleashed into the fray. Throwing the banana peel in the trash, he settled into his seat to try to get some sleep. Reaching Eliza before anybody else did was the best they could hope for. Even with that bastard DeLattio on the loose it was still the best they could do.
***
Nothing had changed. The ranch house still stood. The world still spun on its axis and the mob still wanted to kill her. But she’d changed. She’d changed beyond belief.
She was stretched out naked on the bed, breathing hard. The soft wool of the blankets tickled, making her shiver, so did the sweat that was growing cold on her skin. Nat lay beside her, face down in the covers, unmoving.
Slowly her heart rate returned to normal and she raised her head, laid her cheek against the warm muscles of his broad back and tasted the salty dampness of his flesh.
“Again?” Nat’s voice rumbled through the pillow. “
Already?”
She laughed and kissed the flat hollow between his shoulder blades. “I’m so exhausted I couldn’t move if there was an earthquake.”
She trailed a finger down his spine, over each bony indent, and marveled at the strength of the man, tempered by gentleness. She savored the freedom she had to explore his body—those strong wide shoulders and long muscled limbs. His skin was smooth beneath the pad of her finger, made her tingle with want.
There was only a little time left. She didn’t want to waste it.
She’d made him laugh, tried to make him forget, and had comforted him while he’d cried. Then, as she’d been wrapped securely in his arms, he’d told her how Rose had fought valiantly for life and how hard it would be to let her go.
She remembered that. Remembered the pain of being left behind, remembered being told her parents were dead. She’d been scared and lonely until her aunt had come to claim her. Then she’d been scared and lonely in boarding school.
“Rose told me she was dying,” Eliza told him quietly. He lifted his head off the mattress to stare at her.
“What?” Nat asked her. An incredulous note overrode the roughness of his voice.
Eliza studied the way the dim light flowed over his back and avoided his eyes. “She told me she was dying. She wanted to make sure you were going to be okay. For me to promise I wouldn’t hurt you.”
“What did you tell her?” His blue eyes were intent on her face.
Moisture dried up in her throat as Eliza forced herself to meet his eyes. “That we don’t always get to make the choices we want.”
He rolled over, snagged her to him so that she lay across his chest. She tried to pull away, but he held her effortlessly.
“How come you joined the FBI?” He watched her eyes intently as if looking for secrets.
“Marshall Hayes, a friend of mine.” Elizabeth relaxed on a sigh. “I’d known him for years.” The details didn’t matter anymore. “He recruited me when I was still too stupid to know better.”
She remembered how easy it had all seemed. “We had a lot of fun over the years, caught a lot of crooks.”
With three agents working deep undercover and very little backup they didn’t have time for the usual bureau politics. They didn’t apprehend the criminals, just collected information then called in the field agents for arrests. An easy job, for the most part.
“What made you become an agent?” Nat caressed her cheek with his index finger and caused a shiver of reaction to flutter all the way down to her toes.
She shrugged, unconsciously played with the crisp hair that sprinkled his chest.
“I don’t really know...I guess it was all tied up with losing my parents.” She looked up at Nat, touched his hand. “I still have a lot of baggage up here.” She tapped her finger against her skull. “I wanted to help people, to make a difference and my specialty subject was art.” She laughed at how young she sounded. “When Marsh offered me the chance to join his team it seemed like the perfect opportunity. And I was good at it too. Thought I was finally doing something that mattered.”
She looked down into dark eyes, absorbed the contrast with the pale lashes and golden skin. She could feel the hard length of him beneath her, the solid planes of sinew and bone that made up his body. Heat radiated from him like a furnace and she wanted to remember him this way forever.
“I was very good at it until I started work with the Organized Crime Unit.”
A chill glanced against her skin and she pulled the covers up around her shoulders. Nat watched her, quiet and somber.
Bitterness swept through her like poison. “OCU couldn’t believe it when they realized I was an undercover fed and that Andrew DeLattio had asked me out on a date. They orchestrated a second meeting and this time I agreed to go out with him.” The bastards had moved heaven and earth to throw them together again.
Holding herself very still, as if a single movement would shatter her control she continued. “He was very polite at first, a real gentleman.” She didn’t want to remember how he’d become less polite and more insistent. More forceful.
“I planted bugs in locations other agents couldn’t infiltrate.” She tapped her finger against his chest before she caught herself. “I witnessed some incidents and helped OCU work out who worked for whom.” She looked down, held his gaze. “But I got nervous and bailed.”
“You didn’t want to sleep with him.” It was a statement, not a question.
She nodded, moved her gaze to his lips and dropped a quick kiss there for good measure. “OCU begged and threatened, but I stopped seeing DeLattio and tried to return to my other duties.”
Pulling the covers around her shoulders she sat up. “I guess I was feeling pretty damned proud of myself.” Her fingers clenched the blanket. “He came to the museum’s Christmas party, spiked my drink, and carried me out telling everyone I was drunk and needed to go home.” Her voice shook with both anguish and anger. “He took me up to my apartment, tied me up, beat the crap out of me and then raped me.”
Nat put a hands on her shoulder, touched her as if she were fragile.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” His gaze was full of empathy and rage. She understood the rage.
“You deserve to know.” Elizabeth let the blanket hang loosely around her shoulders, stretched her hands and arms out in front of her. “I don’t remember most of the attack. But for me, the worst thing was having the other agents find me tied to the bed.” Her voice cracked. “The special surveillance group had stood down when I stopped seeing DeLattio, but my purse was still wired and monitored by OCU. They recorded every scream I made, taped me begging for help and pleading. And they used it. Used it to make him turn state’s evidence and give up his crime connections. Can you imagine?”
Elizabeth could see that Nat imagined all too well.
She held his gaze. “I spent two days in hospital before my friend Josie broke me out.” God, she’d have been lost without Josie. “When the bruising on my face faded enough, I covered it with makeup and went back to work.”
She ignored the ache in his eyes. It was a reflection of her suffering and she wanted it to end.
“I made a lot of mistakes, Nat. I ignored the advice I was given. Refused counseling. Refused to let OCU tell Marsh or any of my other colleagues what happened.” Tears spilled over. “I was too humiliated for them to know.”
Nat wrapped his arms around her, silently gave her his strength.
“I walked around like a zombie for weeks, terrified, absolutely terrified he would come back. I barely slept or ate, carried a loaded gun wherever I went.” She laughed when he raised a brow. “Even worse than I am now.”
Elizabeth ran a hand through her hair, brushing it away from her face. “Then one day I quit—left Marsh in the lurch and ran. Like a coward.”
Tears formed on her lashes, but she dashed them away. “I was so scared for so long...” She didn’t know how to go on, but Nat silenced her by placing two fingers gently on her lips.
“You did what you had to do.” He wrapped her up tight in his arms, kissed her cheek. “What are you going to do now?” His directness startled her.
She avoided his gaze and made a part confession.
“Every day since then I’ve fantasized about killing Andrew Mario DeLattio.” She closed her eyes and hid the emotions that might reveal the plans she’d put into action. He couldn’t begin to understand. “I have to leave here before I put you guys in danger.”
Nat leaned his forehead against hers. “Listen to me, Eliza, it doesn’t matter. None of the past matters.” He took her hands in his. “I don’t care who’s after you. I don’t care what you’ve done. We’ll figure this out.”
She stared back at him. Sadness drowned what should have been pleasure. It wasn’t the past she was worried about.
“I need you to stay.” Nat’s eyes burned fierce and bright in the lamplight while his hands were as hard as steel. “Please stay.”
> The words jolted her, like unexpectedly stepping off a curb. She looked up at him, a quick glance that read the truth in his intensity. In the stark vulnerability of his gaze. Anguish and hopelessness burst the euphoria of finally finding love. He was everything she had ever wanted. Good and honest. Strong and brave. Integrity matched with an innate sense of honor.
Another tear formed and overflowed down her cheek. She didn’t want to leave him, but she had to. She wiped away the tear, pulled the blankets back up around her shoulders.
The world was caving in around her. It was happening so fast now that she couldn’t stop it, couldn’t plug the gaps with lies anymore. Every day she spent on the ranch increased the danger to the others. Nat had already lost his mother, she didn’t want to bring more disaster down on him.
He’d told her once she was trouble and he was right.
I love you, whispered through her mind, but she couldn’t say it. If she did, she’d never be able to leave him. He didn’t care what she’d done? Well, he should care. She was beyond redemption. Not that it mattered. She wouldn’t put him at risk.
The scent of their lovemaking filled the air, reminded her of the bond they’d forged, but the words dragged out of her mouth anyway.
“I can’t stay. I’ll leave today.” She hadn’t wanted to tell him—had wanted to creep away like a thief in the dark.
“What?” he jerked as if he’d been bitten. “What the hell did you say?”
Elizabeth bowed her head. “After the auction.”
Nat jumped off the bed, paced up and down.
“Jesus!” He rubbed his hands through his flaxen hair, so upset he was physically shaking. “My mother died and you can’t even wait a couple of days?”
Elizabeth was silent. Nothing she said would make this any easier. She could only screw it up.
His anger didn’t scare her. She’d rediscovered the courage that had deserted her for so long—thanks to Nat. He stared at her, his jaw set in a hard line. “You’re not telling me everything.”
Crimes of Passion Page 52
