Crimes of Passion

by Toni Anderson

  Nat straightened away from the wall, placed the rifle on a rack above the door. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  His gaze pinned her where she sat and for a second her heart stopped. Why didn’t he understand that he was one person she would never risk? She forced her expression to remain impassive. Cold.

  “You don’t understand—” she began.

  “Don’t patronize me.” Nat’s tone inflexible and clipped. He raised himself to his full height and rested his hands on his leather belt. Warm and tender Nat was gone. Big and pissed Nat was in his place. “I understand just fine. You’ve got some bastard after you and you’re too stubborn to let anybody help.”

  Unable to remain still, she sprang up from her chair, had to maintain the perpetual motion that kept the demons at bay. “The mob doesn’t just give up and forget, you know. They’ll kill anyone who gets in their way.”

  She paced the kitchen floor, needing more space, unable to breathe properly or think quickly enough. Too many people...why didn’t they understand? “What about Sarah? Tabitha? You for Christ’s sake!”

  “They can go away for a little while.” His gaze was resolute as if the decision had already been made.

  “No.” Elizabeth dragged her hands through her hair, clasped her skull with rigid fingers. “I will not screw up other people’s lives like this. I will not put other people at risk from that monster.”

  “But you’ll screw up your own life? Mine?” Nat spoke so softly she had to stop pacing to hear him. Reluctantly she turned to face him, hypnotized as he stepped towards her. “Ours?”

  Tears made it hard to see.

  How could he think they had a chance of a future together? She was as good as dead. If she didn’t get out of here soon, he could be too.

  Nat stood quietly, patiently, waiting for her answer.

  “Don’t you understand?” The tears brimmed over, ran down her cheeks and dripped onto her shirt. “I don’t want you to die.”

  Nat took the remaining step to touch her, cupped her face with his hands and wiped at the tears with his thumbs. His hands were warm and comforting. She gazed up at him, knew her vulnerability was exposed like a raw nerve.

  “I’ve never had anything to lose before,” she whispered.

  “Leave now and he’s won. Hurt you—again. Scared you—again. Beaten you—again.” Eyes darkened to midnight, a smile curved his lips, but his expression was lost. “Look around. You have people here who want to help you, who care about you. Don’t throw it all away just because of what he did to you.”

  She pressed her hand against his heart, cherished the solid beat beneath her palm. Stalling for time she traced the edge of a mother-of-pearl button and moved to touch the “v” of skin that was just visible. She tried to block out his words. Tried to distract him with her touch.

  He grabbed her hand and held it still. “You can’t run away forever. No matter how frightening it is to stand and fight. You said yourself we don’t always get to make the choices we want.”

  Startled, she jerked her hand away as her eyes flew to his. He was thinking about his mother, she realized. His pain was still sharp and fresh. It wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t have to deal with this now, shouldn’t have to deal with her problems on top of his grief.

  Nat stared into her eyes and read her thoughts. “I will not let you go.” He glanced up, caught Ryan’s eye. “Take Tabitha and Sarah into town. Cal and Ezra too.”

  Cal straightened from his position against the wall. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You can’t stay here—” Eliza said.

  “I owe you.” Cal never took his eyes off the sheriff. “I pay my debts.”

  Talbot stiffened. “You ain’t carrying a gun.”

  Cal gave a dark laugh and stared the sheriff down. “I don’t need a gun.”

  Ryan argued too, despite his red-rimmed eyes and weary as hell expression. “I could take them to Atty Willard’s,” he said. “Come back here and help.”

  “No.” Nat’s tone was flat and firm. “I need to know they’re safe, really safe, no matter what happens.”

  “What about Mom’s funeral?” Ryan didn’t look fit to drive a car, let alone handle a gun.

  “It can wait a couple of days.” Nat must have thought it through. “Rose would have wanted us to help Eliza.”

  “I’m staying.” Sarah stood in the doorway. “I want to help too.” Tabitha clutched at Sarah’s knee, watched the adults with wide blue eyes.

  “No,” Nat and Elizabeth said together.

  “You might need a doctor...”

  “No.” Elizabeth was fierce. She didn’t want to put anyone else at risk. Marsh shook his head, and stood.

  Sarah crossed her hands over her chest, ignored the feds and concentrated on her brother. “This is my home.”

  Elizabeth was quiet. Sarah was right and she should leave. The pressure of Nat’s fingers on her shoulder stopped her from going anywhere, and then he hunkered down and held out his arms for Tabitha. The little girl eyed the strangers warily, then let go of her aunt’s pant leg and ran to her uncle.

  Nat swung the child high up into the air and gave her a kiss. “Hey, Tiger. Wanna go get a treat from the toy store?”

  Tabitha smiled, and grabbed his ear with a small hand. Nat caught her fist, held it gently within his own and kissed the delicate dimpled fingers.

  “She needs you,” Nat told his sister. He turned to where his brother peered determinedly into his coffee mug. “You might not think so, but she needs you too.”

  For a moment, Elizabeth thought Ryan was going to refuse. He sat immobile, his shoulders stiff and his mouth twisted. Then he took a mouthful of coffee, swallowed and nodded. Finally, he pushed his mug away and walked over to where his daughter hung from Nat’s shoulder. Ryan’s hands shook as he took hold of his little girl. Whether from the DTs or some other unnamed emotion, Elizabeth couldn’t tell.

  “Come on, kid. We’re going for a ride.” Ryan reached over and pressed a quick kiss to Elizabeth’s cheek, turned on his booted heel and walked away.

  Sarah stared mutinously at her older brother who stood surrounded by strangers in their dead mother’s kitchen. She must have read purpose in Nat’s stance and the stubborn thrust of his chin because she sighed, shook her head and gave in. She walked over to where Elizabeth stood and gave her a quick hug. The move was so natural, so eloquent, and so unexpected that Elizabeth didn’t have time to react before Sarah threw her arms around her brother’s neck and kissed him too.

  “Be careful,” Sarah warned with a tight hug before following Ryan down the hall.

  Elizabeth watched her go, hating herself for being the cause of such disruption to innocent lives. She noticed the silence and looked around. Nat, Cal, Marsh and the sheriff were all watching her.

  Alarm crawled up her spine and spilled into her mouth like bile. It seemed the poor little orphan had finally found a place to call home and she was staying, whether she liked it or not.

  Unease nudged her conscience as she thought about the assassin she’d hired. He was her backup plan, her failsafe incase DeLattio or the mob got to her first. Her contract had been simple. When DeLattio was free, kill him. She just hoped the assassin got to DeLattio before DeLattio got to the ranch.

  ***

  Stone Creek, Montana, April 16th

  “What the fuck are we doing here?” Charlie rubbed chubby fingers across his balding scalp.

  DeLattio hunched down in the seat next beside him, a leather ball cap wedged tightly on his head. The waistband of his jeans dug into his gut and the leather jacket was stiff with newness. Charlie was dressed in a snappy gray suit and wouldn’t even take off his jacket. He looked like a gangster. Even driving a Dodge Caravan around Montana, he looked like a freaking gangster.

  So much for incognito.

  Charlie wasn’t happy. He thought they’d be heading straight to the Cayman Isles. The older man figured Andrew should forget about Juliette Morgan—or rather, Eliz
abeth Ward—but Charlie figured wrong. Andrew had a guy inside the FBI who’d been feeding him information for years. The agent had told him some Podunk sheriff in Montana had requested an ID on fingerprints that turned out to belong to the woman who’d made such a fool of him. So rather than leaving the States they’d flown out west in a small plane and were going to the town where she’d been last seen. Andrew didn’t care how long it took. He would find her. He would teach her that he kept his promises.

  Rubbing his hands along the length of his thighs, Andrew sucked a breath through his teeth.

  Elizabeth Ward.

  Nice name for a dead bitch.

  A willowy blonde struggled with the gas nozzle as she tried to fill a rental car. She was hot and Andrew toyed with going over to help—his dick twitching as she bent over to pick up the gas cap. But someone might recognize him and gas stations always had hidden cameras.

  Andrew flinched as Charlie’s cell phone rang and all thoughts of the blonde evaporated as Charlie stuck the phone to his ear.

  Charlie pulled out a pen and scrawled across the top of a newspaper that was spread awkwardly over the steering wheel. He thrust the paper at Andrew, started the engine then paused as he too noticed the blonde. “Well, look at that.”

  “What?” Andrew asked. A fat smile curled Charlie’s lips, the first in some time. Andrew sat up, gripped the edge of the dash. “What?”

  “Remember I told you some broad pretended to be Juliette Morgan when she first disappeared? That we whacked her old man, but missed her?”

  “Yeah.” Andrew remembered, but still didn’t get it.

  Charlie nodded toward the blonde as she headed into the filling station to pay for her gas. “That’s her. That’s the broad.”

  ***

  Elizabeth avoided Nat’s eyes and tucked her Glock into the back of her waistband. Mexican carry. With her luck she’d probably shoot herself in the ass. The Kevlar vest she wore under her sweatshirt meant she couldn’t use her shoulder holster. Dancer had loaned her another SIG, which she wore as a sidearm.

  This wasn’t what she’d planned.

  Her breath funneled out as she realized the bastard might not even show up. How pathetic was that? But instinct told her otherwise, DeLattio wasn’t known for his patience.

  The light had started to fade. Storm clouds blocked out the last of the rays of the sun. The kitchen clock ticked loudly against the silence that stretched thin between her and Nat.

  He watched her, but said nothing.

  Adrenaline hummed through her bloodstream, made her edgy and her hands shake. She rested her palms on the edge of the sink, forced herself to calm down and took two deep breaths. The phone rang and her heart damned near stopped.

  She checked the number on her cell, relaxed a little as she answered. “Josie?”

  “Did you miss me?” His voice was pure malevolence, noxious and deadly, diseased with evil.

  Dread immobilized her spine as nausea robbed her of speech. DeLattio’s face splashed through her mind as clear and sharp as a photograph. She sagged against the countertop, watched Nat rise and come towards her.

  He touched her arm, a tentative squeeze of support and she drew on his strength, fighting to find her voice and smother the panic that welled up like blood in a wound.

  “Where’s Josie?”

  “You never told me you had such pretty friends. Tut. Tut.” The bastard’s laugh mocked her, just as it had all those months ago. “And a blonde too. I thought I liked redheads best, but maybe not. But then you’re not a natural redhead are you...Elizabeth?”

  She couldn’t move. Her lips cracked open and words spilled out. “You don’t want her. You want me.”

  Nat’s grip tightened on her arm, but she ignored him. DeLattio snickered and she didn’t know if she could hold it together.

  “You’re wrong.” For a moment she heard nothing but the rough draw of his breath. “I do want her.”

  He was touching Josephine. She knew it—could almost feel the slide of his hand—and knew that one wrong word, one misstep and Josephine was dead. Elizabeth gritted her teeth together to stop herself from begging, because begging didn’t work.

  “But I want you more.”

  Strong arms wrapped around her as if to hold her up. When had her legs stopped working?

  “We’ll do a swap. I’m on my way to you right now.” DeLattio said. “Two minutes. If I see anybody else, I kill the blonde.” He hung up, his words echoing in the silence.

  Reeling, she looked up at Nat. His face was grim, distorted.

  “He’s got my friend Josie.” Her voice was fragile. She had no time to waste, no time to plan. “He’s here. He wants to swap her for me.”

  How did he get Josie? How long had he had her? Blood tasted sickly in her mouth. She choked it down and cursed the day she’d met Andrew DeLattio.

  Palms damp, heart racing, she dialed Marsh, gave him the update, and told him to keep out of sight. She rang off before he could reply.

  Nat lifted his rifle off the rack and stuffed a box of ammunition in his back pocket before he cycled the bolt. He looked up and met her gaze.

  Headlights swept down the hill behind the house, lit up the dim interior of the kitchen as the car swung into the yard. Elizabeth stared at the door. He was here. Andrew DeLattio was right here outside that door. Lightheaded, she swallowed, touched her hand to the hard jut of the gun that pressed against her spine. She flicked a glance at Nat.

  “I have to go,” she said.

  Taking a step closer, he grabbed her arm. “No. I won’t let you.”

  “I have to.” Her emotions threatened to swamp her. She had to save Josie. She forced herself to stand straighter and look him in the eye. “I got her into this mess. This is my fault.”

  Tension crackled to breaking point between them.

  “You’re not God, Eliza.” Nat’s hand dropped away, his blue eyes bleak, desolate, but grimly determined. “You’re not responsible for the whole goddamned world.”

  The van idled in the yard. She could hear the engine thrum quietly like a drum march to her death. Headlights poured into the main house, dazzling them even as they stood in the shadows looking at one another. Maybe for the last time.

  Nat’s expression turned mean, the planes of his face rigid with bitterness. “Eliza—”

  “No.” She cupped his cheek with her palm. Pressed a quick kiss to his unrelenting lips. She didn’t want it to end this way. “I know I’m not God, but I am responsible for this.”

  She turned away and braced herself for goodbye. She couldn’t endure a lingering farewell—she’d already proven she wasn’t strong enough to let him go. Glancing over her shoulder, she nodded towards the rifle. “How good are you with that thing, really?”

  “Freakin’ deadeye.” His eyes gleamed in the darkness. He didn’t say another word, no begging, no pleading; he just slid deeper into the shadows.

  “I love you.” She mouthed the words softly, knowing he couldn’t hear her, but needing to say them out loud just once.

  She gave him a few heartbeats to get into position and then eased the door ajar. The air smelled like a storm, rain drumming down, electricity crackling through the twilight like a living thing.

  The car idled, steam pouring off its hood. Elizabeth opened the kitchen door wide and stood exposed in the beams of the headlights. He might shoot her now but she was betting on a more hands-on ending to his little game.

  The car’s passenger door was pushed open and DeLattio thrust Josie out ahead of him, using her as a human shield. The car protected his back. He knotted a hand in Josie’s hair and dragged her back against him.

  Elizabeth’s flesh crawled as she looked at him. His handsome face was swarthy and harsh, his wet hair plastered black against his skull. Her personal demon. A laugh bubbled up inside, putting a hysterical smile on her face. He’d always looked like the devil to her. Judging from his bulky frame, the sly son of a bitch wore body armor. They’d need a head shot to
take him out.

  But DeLattio wasn’t going anywhere, she reminded herself. He had at least four guns trained on him and he wasn’t going to win this last battle. She’d live or die, but she wouldn’t die in vain.

  DeLattio stuck a pistol under Josie’s chin and Eliza’s stomach slammed into her mouth. Josie’s head was forced back, her eyes rolling to reveal a mixture of horror and defiance. She threw Eliza an apologetic smile—as if it were her fault they were in this mess. Elizabeth tried to smile back, but it was just a jumbled quiver of lips.

  “We meet again,” DeLattio shouted over the rain.

  Elizabeth blocked out her fears, blocked out his arrogance and worked on autopilot. She stood with her hands loose at her sides, ready to move. “Let her go.”

  DeLattio shook his head and smiled. “I don’t think so. You come out here first, Elizabeth.”

  Nausea curled in her stomach, hot and greasy. Hearing him say her name was like giving control of her soul to the dark-side. Shivering, she ignored the tiny pellets of rain that stung her skin as she moved out into the open. Drenched within seconds, she was glad of the excuse to shiver. Water streamed down her face and weighed down her clothes like lead.

  Josie staggered and cried out. DeLattio jerked her back against him with a tight fistful of hair.

  Striding forward, Eliza forced control over her fear-drenched body. Holding Josie’s gaze she flickered her eyes to the ground on Josie’s right and tried to plant the thought inside her head.

  “Let her go,” she said again. “She’s done nothing to you.”

  “But you have, bitch. You set me up.” Andrew hoisted Josie closer and she whimpered. “Throw down the gun.” He nodded towards Elizabeth’s sidearm.

  Elizabeth shook her head, but he tightened his hold on Josie’s hair and she cried out in pain. The sound cut through her. Why had she ever allowed Josie to become involved in her mess? She unsnapped the holster, withdrew the weapon and placed it on the ground.

  “Did you miss me, Elizabeth?” DeLattio taunted. “Do you think about the night I fucked you stupid? When you begged me for more?”