Out of the Dark
Page 8
She was already so pissed he expected her to take out a gun and shoot him. He damn sure didn’t want to fight over a bed, and if she starting crying again, he was going to commit suicide.
Picking up the receiver of the cradle phone resting on the nightstand, Mac dialed the front desk. Averting her gaze, he checked out the framed landscaped picture hanging next to the bathroom door, the open closet, the writing desk, and the TV.
Waiting through the uncomfortable silence, Mac chanced a look at Emily who’d barely stepped into the room. From the frown on her face, she wasn’t moving any further.
The news wasn’t good. Dread mounting, Mac hung up the phone. “Desk clerk said there was a mix up. This is the only room.” Knowing he’d never convince Emily to stay, he grabbed the envelope and scooped up the assorted toiletries. Finished, he turned to Emily. “Let’s take the key back. You drive until we find another motel. I’m too tired.”
“I can’t,” she said, inching into the room.
Confused by her statement, Mac stumbled backward. “You can’t drive?”
“I have night blindness,” she answered casually, like somehow he should have known that. “You sleep on the floor.”
Mac tossed the toiletries back onto the bed. “Like hell.” He folded his arms. “After flying from Russia, you want me to sleep on the floor when there is a bed big enough for both of us?”
She lifted her bruised chin. That gesture was starting to piss him off. “Yes.”
Oh, she was itching for a fight. “Come on,” Mac fumed, taking the keys out of his pocket. “I’ll drive.”
To his surprise, when he stalked passed her, Em touched his arm pulling him to a quick halt. “And take a chance on us ending up as road kill? No thanks. We’ll stay here and make the best of it.”
Doom settled across his shoulders with the weight of telephone pole. This couldn’t be good.
For the umpteenth time since he’d connected with Em, Mac didn’t know what to do. He felt like his face had been used for a punching bag, because that’s exactly what happened. He expected his head to explode any minute. Yet with all his aches, pains and exhaustion, his concern for Em frightened him more than anything he’d ever encountered.
Deep in his gut, Mac knew this room, this motel, and them spending all this time together, wasn’t good for either one of them. Taking a deep breath, he rolled his shoulders and said, “Let’s get this straight,” he said. “I’m taking a shower. Then I’m going to sleep on that bed.” He pointed to the king-sized bed. “And that’s the end of it.”
The words were no sooner out of his mouth when Em’s body drew tight as a bow. Her eyes glazed over with murderous intentions as she slowly turned to face him.
“Don’t you dare give orders, demands or even suggestions,” she hissed. “You’ve been bossing me around since Moscow. You sleep in that bed with permission only.” Emily touched her chest. “My permission!”
He jacked his fists against his waist. “So I have to ask to be invited?”
Defiantly she lifted her nose and turned her back. “Yes.”
Well, fuck me sideways.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The room reminded Emily of a small box. All it needed was a lid and packing tape, and she’d suffocate. Alone, with a dangerous man, Emily couldn’t help wondering what to expect next.
Mac had managed to turn her life into such disarray she wanted to scream. And it was all because she’d helped him out of Moscow. Now, somehow she was stuck with him. At least until someone managed to figure this all out. That could take days, weeks, or months. Who knew?
Mac moved to stand in front of her, his cobalt eyes dark and deadly.
His intimidating gaze kicked up the tempo of her heart, and she had to remind herself to breathe. She refused to reveal evidence that she’d love to grab him by the shirt, drag him to bed and make love until they were both drunk on lust.
She wouldn’t dare, still, a girl could dream. Emily did not flinch when Mac reached over her head and shut the door.
Swallowing, Emily sighed then met his bold stare, just to prove she wasn’t afraid. Somehow, the resounding thud of the door closing reminded her of a steel trap.
To hide her discomfort in a room that shrank by the minute, Emily cleared her throat and walked over to a small round table. Breaking eye contact with Mac, she put down her purse, briefcase and laptop.
Looking at her airport purchased jeans and blouse, Emily thought about all her clothes left behind in the Russian hotel when those crazy guys tried to kill them.
Mac stood by the door staring like a fox checking out his dinner. Ankles crossed, hands folded, he leaned casually against the wall. While he appeared to be in the comforts of his own home, she wanted to bolt. But where would she go?
Finally he shoved away and said, “Relax, nothing’s going to happen. I’m beat. All I want is a shower and a bed.”
“A shower sounds nice,” she said then cringed at the squeakiness of her own voice. She cleared her throat. “When you’re finished I’ll take mine.”
“I’m going to go get some ice. My head hurts. Do you want anything?”
“You alright?”
“I’ll be fine. Just tired.”
“Okay.” She sighed with relief. “Do you want me to go get the ice? I don’t mind.”
“No, I’ll only be a minute. You want me to bring you something?”
“A Diet Coke would be nice.”
“That stuff causes brain cancer or some shit like that.”
“I drink what I like.”
He tossed her an, ‘Of course you do, look. After picking up the ice bucket, he stepped to the door. “Lock it behind me.”
With him gone, Emily filled her lungs with air. The man was so big there was no space for her.
The motel was decent but had no amenities. No fitness room, no sauna, and no indoor pool. However, she did plan to make full use of the soap, shampoo and towels. Just to be on the safe side, Emily bent down, lifted the corner of the bedspread and checked for critters. Satisfied, she connected her laptop so she could catch up on her emails.
She wanted to contact Brenda and give her a better explanation for being late, but she didn’t want her to worry. Then she needed to let Debbie, her dog sitter, know she wouldn’t be home as expected. However, she wanted to wait until she knew for sure exactly when she’d be able to pick up Hershey.
Before sitting down, she clicked on the television, and the nightly news filled the screen.
Back into the room, Mac locked the door and placed the ice bucket on the table. He flopped down on the bed. “When you’re through with your laptop, can I use it for a few minutes?”
“Sure, I only have a few emails.”
“Don’t tell anyone where we are.”
Tossing him a scorching glare, she replied, “Really?”
He returned a stiff glance before the sports came on.
When she finished, she said, “Do you know that nothing has been reported about that incident in London that mess at DFW?”
“That’s not unusual.”
“What do you mean, not unusual? Someone tried to kill us.”
He shrugged.
“Tell me that being threatened at gunpoint is not news worthy.”
Reclining casually, Mac looked up at her, his brows pulled together. “Did you see a newsman standing in the corner taking pictures?”
“No, but surely the police followed up. Filed a report?”
Mac shook his head.
“You live in a very dangerous world, Mac. You’re lucky to be alive.”
“I know.”
“If I were you, I’d start a new career. Yours doesn’t have a good retirement plan.”
He laughed. A devouring smile traced across his lips. “I’ve never thought of retiring.”
“No?” Blood pulsed through her, heating up her body temperature and making her squirm. Lord, she hated that Mac could control her heart rate with a simple look. In an instant they were ba
ck on the plane and she felt him inside her.
Trying to distract herself, Emily popped the top on her drink and took a long swallow. Putting the can down, she stood. “I’m finished.”
He took the chair she’d vacated and went to work on the keyboard. It surprised her that he actually typed faster than she did. How could he be quick with a gun, and a speed typist? Beneath lowered lashes, she watched him as he worked on the laptop.
He must have felt her staring because his gaze collided with hers. “What?”
“Nothing,” she replied. Uncomfortable with her feelings, she stepped away and fudged interest in the television.
Finished, he closed the laptop and put it back in the case. He removed a gun from the back of his waistband and put it on the table next to the bed.
“I’m taking a shower. Are you going to be out here when I’m finished?”
Stunned by his question, she asked, “Have I said anything about leaving?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean the thought hasn’t crossed your mind.”
“It has, but where would I go? Have you forgotten? I’m blind?”
A crooked grin played with the corners of his mouth and her knees wobbled. “Maybe I’d better handcuff you to the bed anyway.”
She shot to her feet, eyes narrowed. “You just try.”
He laughed. “While the idea is tempting, I’m all out of hardware. I’ll just have to trust you.”
“Trust me?” she seethed. “I’m the one who trusted you enough to get on a plane with you. Get you across the ocean. And fight off a mob of guys at two airports.”
Arms raised, he chuckled. “Okay, okay, so we trust each other. I’m going to go take a shower.” While he kicked off his shoes, she took the toiletries out of the large envelope Zoe had handed her on the way out of Frank’s office. Arms full, she put everything on the stand next to the bathroom.
Carefully, Mac pulled the tail of his shirt out of his pants. His face tightened when he shrugged it off and tossed it on the bed. His body was a mass of bruises. He went into the dressing room and stood in front of the sink.
His head came up and he looked at her in the mirror. “Do you have anything in your purse? Aspirin, Tylenol?”
Hoping drool wasn’t leaking out of the corners of her mouth, she shook her head. “Sorry, just a small bottle of Midol, and that might mess with your testosterone, and turn you into a menstruating woman. Wouldn’t that be terrible?” She turned her back to him and picked up her can of Coke.
To her surprise, two strong arms wrapped around her waist and his mouth nuzzled her neck. Off balance, she fell backwards against a hot, bare chest, and Emily sucked in a nervous breath.
While she tried not to faint, he whispered into her ear, “You keep tossing out threats like that Em, and you’re going to force me to show you just how good I am and I’m not talking about a damn quickie on a plane.”
If she were a teapot, she’d be whistling loud enough to set off a fire alarm. His male scent accosted her, teased her, and taunted her feminine insides. Slowly Emily stepped away from him with the pretense of a sudden urge to change the channel on the television.
“I’m not threatening you, Mac, I’m just letting you know, loud and clear, so there won’t be any misinterpretations on exactly how I feel. No mixed signals, no subtle innuendos.”
Suddenly Mac threw his head back and barked a laugh then pointed an ‘I got you’ finger at her. “I didn’t say anything about bed. You need to stop letting your imagination run so wild, Em.” He came closer, and put his palm against her cheek. With deliberate slowness he ran his thumb along her bottom lip, making her quiver. “But I can guarantee you I do my best work with a woman between me and the mattress.”
Struggling to keep from swaying, Emily forced herself to stare at him without flinching. She’d been sweet-talked before, and it wasn’t going to happen again.
Releasing her, he walked over to the bed. “I’ll take the side closest to the door, if you don’t mind.” He stopped then turned to her. “With your permission, of course.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Whatever.”
As he pulled his personal things from his pockets and put them on the table, he unbuttoned his pants. Emily hoped her knees wouldn’t buckle as he slowly pushed his jeans down his narrow hips.
***
In his favor, Zoe had packed a set of clean clothes for him, but it would’ve been nice if she had found something for Em to wear. He made a mental note to stop somewhere so they could pick her up a change of clothes.
The adrenalin had vanished, and Mac’s battered body screamed with every move. A muffled groan tumbled from his lips as he stepped into the tub, and beneath the showerhead. After a few deep breaths, he turned on the water and braced his hands against the tile.
Relief rolled down his back like a mudslide as the hot water pulsated against his sore, stiff, shoulders. At this moment, nothing felt better, or was needed more. God, exhaustion seeped from his pores, making it difficult for him to stand. After shampooing his hair, Mac thought about lying down, and going to sleep in the tub with the water running.
Em.
That woman had such a hold on him, Mac wasn’t sure he could take anymore. In all his thirty-two years he’d never wanted a woman this badly. The whole situation was foreign. He didn’t know what to do or how to handle her moods, her laughter, or her bravery.
Every time he opened his mouth he sounded like a tongue-tied, sixteen-year old. And they were sharing a motel room together, in the same bed?
He didn’t stand a chance in hell.
Reluctantly, he turned off the water and stepped from the tub. As he reached for the towel, it felt like a sledgehammer smacked him in the side. Shocked, Mac bit back a scream. Bending over, he held his breath and waited for the wave of nausea to pass.
This particular pain blew in with shadows of familiarity. Somehow he’d managed to crack a rib, and he didn’t need a doctor, or x-rays to confirm his diagnosis. Nope, been there, done that...way too many times.
Trying to refocus his gaze, Mac released the air from his lungs, and gently dried off. He hopped around a few times, smacked the wall with his shoulder then finally managed to slip on clean underwear.
Leaving the steamy room, Mac ruffled his hair, and kept his right arm pressed against his side. No need for Em to worry.
With only two towels in the room, Mac spread the towel out on the bar to dry so he could use it again tomorrow.
Turning around, his gaze fell to the bed, and he stilled. Em lay relaxed, her cheek pillowed on her bent arm. She appeared more settled now. Not strung out like in the car. Every word she’d said sliced through his heart like a butcher’s knife. But Mac didn’t know how to fix that.
Hysterical women freaked him out more than a heat seeking missile. When Em went off on him, he wished she would’ve shot him instead. That he could deal with. He had no experience with women PMSing. His military training or intelligence knowledge didn’t extend to a woman like Em.
Careful not to reignite her, Mac said, “You’re next.”
Wordlessly, she eased off the bed and stalked past him without a word. A few seconds later the door slammed, shaking the cheap pictures on the wall.
As he stepped toward the bed, another sharp pain made him grab his side. Easing his way across the room with the aid of a chair, a small desk and an ottoman, Mac finally sat on the edge of the bed and released a pensive breath. Sweat peppered his forehead, and his stomach rolled.
Em stepped from the bathroom chased by the scent of mint toothpaste. Her face shiny and her hair free from the constraints of the rubber band. She glanced at him, her brow wrinkled. “Are you hurt?”
Not wanting to do anything that might upset her, Mac relaxed. “No, not really. I might have bruised a rib. But I’m okay.”
Hands on her hips, she said, “Spoken like a true man.” Like being a man was a bad thing, she turned and moved to the sink. “Get in bed and I’ll fix an ice pack.”
Before he could make a move, Emily pulled back the covers. With the ice bag wrapped in a small white towel, she put it on the table and handed him her Coke. He shook his head, but when she opened her fist and held out two round pills his eyes locked with hers. “Advil,” she said. “Found them in the bottom of my purse. Best I can do.”
Grunting, Mac pushed to his elbow. He popped the pills in his mouth and chased them with a swallow of the lukewarm, bitter soda. When he collapsed, she put the ice pack on his side then pulled the blanket to his chin.
“I’m going to take my shower,” she said. “A word of warning. You stay on your side of the bed.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He waited for the sound of running water. When it came, Mac closed his eyes and listened to Jay Leno on the TV. Facing the door, he couldn’t see the screen, but that was okay. All he wanted was a painless night’s sleep.
He must have dozed, because when he opened his eyes again he saw Em from the light reflecting off the screen of the TV. Quietly, she walked toward the door. Her wet auburn hair hung in shinny ringlets. She’d pulled on his T-shirt. She might be short, but Mac swore he’d never imagined legs that long or shapely before. And by God, he’d seen some legs.
Did she plan on leaving? He tensed, prepared to stop her. She pulled the curtain away from the window and looked out then she checked the lock on the door. Just as she turned, Mac closed his eyes. His side felt much better.
The room grew silent when she turned off the television and the hard mattress sagged slightly beneath her weight as she sat on the edge of the bed next to him. She lifted the covers to remove the ice pack, and cool air kissed his skin. Gently, she pulled the blanket over his shoulders.
Finally, Em stood and went around to the other side of the bed, but not before giving Mac a perfect glance of a pair of red bikini panties, she must have bought at the airport in London, shadowed beneath his black T-shirt.
It also caught him by surprise that he liked the idea of her sleeping in his shirt. Her body against his shirt seemed sexy as all get out.