by Debra Cowan
Kit opened the car door, glanced at him. “Any advice?”
“Small bills. You don’t want anything that might call attention to Liz and Tony.”
“Right.” She smiled, the motion easing some of the fatigue in her features. “Be back in a minute.”
Rafe nodded, his gaze riveted on her as she moved onto the concrete walk, then disappeared inside. Those khaki slacks curved over her bottom just the way his hands had yesterday. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles showed white.
He shook his head and told himself to do something productive. Surreptitiously, he checked the side and rearview mirrors. No sign of the silver sedan he’d shaken a couple of days ago. None of the other cars in the parking lot had followed him here. The cars passing on the busy street behind him didn’t repeat. So far, so good.
Rolling his shoulders, he focused on leveling out his pulse, tried to erase the pictures of Kit that still teased his mind. Considering the fact that he felt like his brain had shut down due to pure lust, he thought he’d done a damn fine job of keeping his thoughts, and his hands, to himself last night.
She walked out of the bank and toward the car, her pink cotton sweater molding her breasts and tucking snugly into the thin waistband of her slacks.
As she moved toward him with athletic fluidity, something hot balled in his chest. Something fierce and possessive that he refused to examine. He glanced away, rubbing a hand over his face.
She slid into the car, reaching to put her purse on the floorboard behind him. “I withdrew sixteen hundred dollars. Do you think that’s enough?”
“Yeah.” Her too-careful tone indicated that she was trying to include him even while maintaining a distance. Which was exactly what he was doing.
He reversed out of the parking space as she fastened her seat belt.
Keeping an eye out for a tail, he headed east on 122nd Street toward the Turner Turnpike. They’d cruise through Tulsa, stay on I-44 East until they neared Wexler.
Beside him, she shifted in the seat, first angling away, then toward him. She reached over and changed the radio station. A rollicking country tune by Vince Gill filled the car. She drummed her fingertips on her thigh.
Rafe kept his gaze trained on the road, but his thoughts seethed. Last night, he’d wanted to tumble her onto his bed, make love to her with no thought about how that would skew things. And it definitely would. Getting naked with Kit would only cloud the issues between them, and he was through letting her confuse him.
Just thinking about those hot, desperate kisses they’d shared at the creek yesterday edged his hormones up an unnecessary notch. Feeling crowded, restless, he settled into his seat, leaning one shoulder into the door.
She reached up and changed the radio station again. As Rafe identified the bluesy soul of Eric Clapton, Kit’s soft wildflower scent drifted to him, had him tightening his grip on the steering wheel. This case was nearly over. He hadn’t done anything stupid yet. He could last until they met up with Liz.
Somehow he would last. Rafe wanted Kit more fiercely than he’d ever wanted anything, including to fly jets. He’d never connected with any woman the way he still did with Kit. And he shouldn’t want to connect with her. He knew what she could do to his world, his heart.
But what he hadn’t known was how well they would really work together. Last night, for the first time, they’d been a full-fledged team. She’d let him know immediately that Liz was on the phone. She’d asked his advice, followed his suggestions.
Even without his prompting, she’d tried to get the right information out of her sister. The old Kit would’ve bristled if Rafe had told her what questions to ask, listened in on their phone conversation. This Kit, the one who was even now making his palms damp, had let him in. Just like she’d said she intended to at the creek.
He liked it. Knew he could easily come to crave that give-and-take like an alcoholic craved his first drink of the day. She’d actually depended on him. He recognized that it was satisfaction filling him, rather than the frustration he usually felt when dealing with Kit and one of her family situations.
Quickly, he tamped down the emotion. He couldn’t let himself trust that. Right now, he was all she had. That was why she leaned on him.
Liz’s prolonged silence had eroded the strength Kit wore like armor. But once she had her sister safely rescued from this latest fiasco, things would probably go back to the way they’d always been. Kit taking responsibility for everyone and everything, giving all of herself to her family with nothing left for anyone else.
She punched the radio buttons again, then again. By now, he’d heard everything from Gershwin to Boy George.
He slid a sideways look at her. “You nervous?”
“Anxious, I guess.” She answered carefully, raked a hand through her short, mink-dark hair.
“It’ll be over soon.”
“Yes. I can’t wait.” The smile she aimed at him was a combination of relief and uncertainty. Then her eyes widened in horror. “Oh, I didn’t mean…not because of you.”
“I know.” He smiled.
She flashed a shy smile that jolted him to the soles of his feet.
His gut hollowed with want. No matter how he ached to pull her under him, make her go all liquid and limp the way he knew he could, he couldn’t afford to let down his guard, couldn’t trust her not to hurt him again. Rafe rubbed his neck and eased out a long breath between his teeth.
He needed a clear head, and to get that he needed some space from Kit. After they met up with Liz, he’d no doubt have all the space he wanted, and then some.
He looked at her, the fan of her velvet lashes dark against pale cheeks, the straight, classically boned nose, the stubborn curve of her jaw. Thought about the promise he’d seen in her eyes last night, how they’d worked together like two people who trusted each other implicitly. It wasn’t lost on him that they were both making an effort to stay on opposite sides of the invisible line he’d drawn last night.
A dull ache settled at the base of his skull. The only thing he could let himself think about was getting to Liz. He couldn’t deal with the confusing tangle Kit was making of his thoughts, his mental balance.
Rafe had really moved on. Kit had spent last night and all this morning forcing herself to remember the unyielding decision in his eyes, his unwillingness to give them another chance. He didn’t think she could give him all of herself. And he had every reason to doubt. She doubted, too.
She had to accept his decision, accept that they were really over, but the four-hour drive to Wexler, Kansas, hadn’t brought her any closer to letting go. At the thought, pain squeezed her chest. She slid a look at him, and he glanced over before returning his attention to the road.
In his eyes, she saw the same wariness she’d seen the day she’d walked into his office asking for help. With a pang of bittersweet pleasure, she let her gaze wander over him, admiring the profile of carved cheekbones and jaw, the bronze column of his throat, the smooth V exposed by the opened top of his button-down denim shirt.
She remembered his kisses yesterday, hungry and desperate for her. She was trying to stay out of his way, follow his lead, but what she really wanted was to get smack in his way. They’d never be lovers again, but they were partners.
She told herself that was good. Tearing her gaze from him, she studied the scenery. They passed acres of farmland, trees heavy with freshly greening leaves, and finally a sign welcomed them to Wexler, population just under forty thousand.
Being alone with him was what made her wish for things to be different, made her regret walking away from him. Once they found Liz, Kit wouldn’t be alone with Rafe anymore. That would help her find the common sense that seemed to have deserted her yesterday at the creek, help squash the urge to beg him to reconsider. Or, if she’d had any hope that it would do any good, to seduce him. But she’d seen that no-trespass look in his eyes before. She didn’t have the guts to try it.
Deep down, she knew it was
because, no matter how much she wanted him, she couldn’t promise that things would be different. Couldn’t promise that she could really give up all the responsibility she’d grown used to carrying for everyone else.
She laced her fingers together, trying to calm her jangled nerves. Just a few more hours and they’d find Liz. Then Kit would get some much-needed space from Rafe. She could do this.
They topped a hill, and he slowed according to the speed limit signs. A charming town spread out before them at the base of the hill, green and lush and built around a square marked by four white stone pillars as well as rectangular planters bursting with red geraniums.
Following directions Kit had gotten by calling the check-cashing business where Liz had instructed her to send the money, he turned right off the exit ramp.
They pulled onto the city’s main street, called Center. A half mile brought them to a stoplight. Gas stations took two corners and a newspaper office another. The fourth corner belonged to a locksmith. Past the stoplight was the original section of town, restored to historic glory and steady with foot traffic.
Downtown Wexler boasted businesses on both sides of Center Street. Parking spaces fronted stores that looked as if they could’ve been there since the turn of the century. A computer business and an Internet company gave evidence to the fact that even this small town had moved into the new millennium. Stoplights marked each block and, as Rafe drove, Kit kept an eye out for their destination.
They passed two jewelry stores, several antique stores and restaurants, a real estate office and a bank. Just past the third light, at what looked to be the end of town, Kit saw the sign for Check It Out, the business name Liz had given her. “There it is.”
Rafe swung into the first available space several doors down and they both got out.
Check It Out was snugged between a pharmacy and a jeweler, its front matching the tall plate glass of all the other businesses. Red-and-white striped awnings stretched over the wide, brick walkway, providing shade from the increasingly hot June sun. Butted against each intersection light pole, square concrete planters held flowering dwarf fruit trees and gave a quaint charm to the prairie town.
Kit snagged her purse from the back of the car and stepped up the curb to join Rafe on the bricked walk. Her soft-soled shoes made no sound as she and Rafe walked two doors down.
Feeling his gaze on her, she turned her head.
He looked at her, considered for a moment. “If they’re hiding out, she may not be in there.”
“I know.”
“I just don’t want you to be upset if we don’t see her right off.”
She smiled at him, remembering how he’d tried to reassure her after they’d learned of Eddie Sanchez’s murder and the increased danger to Liz and Tony. “Thanks.”
He nodded and opened the door for her.
Kit stepped inside the small open space. Several copy machines crowded the wall to her left, whirring with activity. Across from her, a small counter was protected by a tall sheet of glass. There were only a few customers moving around the worn carpet, none of them Liz. Kit didn’t panic. She had the money Liz needed; her sister was here somewhere.
A thin-faced man peered out from behind the glass. “May I help you?”
Rafe touched her elbow, then let go as if he hadn’t meant to touch her. She swallowed a sting of hurt and walked with him toward the counter.
She smiled at the clerk. “I wondered if you’d had anyone waiting for a money wire this morning?”
Rafe slid Liz’s photo across the counter and through the space underneath the glass. “This woman.”
“Yeah.” The man, whose name tag read Ronnie, looked to be around thirty. His long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. His hazel eyes were curious as he studied the picture. “A woman named Liz. She had blond hair, though, not dark. She took off quite a while ago. Said she couldn’t wait any longer.”
“How long ago did she leave?” Rafe asked.
The guy pursed his lips as he returned the picture. “More than an hour, probably two.”
Kit stuck the photo in the side pocket of her purse. “Did she ask you to forward the money wire anywhere if it came in?”
“We can’t do that. She just muttered something under her breath and flew out of here.”
“Did you happen to notice her car?” Rafe asked.
“No, I sure didn’t.” The man’s gaze slid to Rafe, and he leaned forward. “She acted like she needed that money pretty bad.”
Evidently Rafe didn’t feel the need to elaborate. He simply asked, “And she didn’t give a phone number in case the wire came in?”
“Nope.”
“Do you remember what she was wearing?” Kit asked.
“Oh, yeah.” A grin split the man’s pinched features. “A lime green zebra shirt. Tight.”
Kit rolled her eyes, but Rafe gave the guy a half smile. “Thanks. Do you have a phone book we could look at for a minute?”
“Sure.” The man pointed at a small worktable, which held a phone book, phone, stapler and a box of paper clips.
Kit walked with Rafe to the table. “What are you doing?”
“Looking up hotels.” He flipped to the business listings. “I don’t think there’s any sense in waiting around here. We can check out the hotels in town, then swing back. If she comes in, Check Boy there will tell her we were here. She’ll wait.”
“Yes. There’s no way she’d leave without this money.”
Several minutes later, after making a copy of the single page that listed the hotels in Wexler, they thanked the man and told him Liz might show up again. If so, would he ask her to wait? The man agreed.
Rafe held the door for Kit, and she walked past him, more aware than she liked of the strong hand holding the door, the corded forearm bared by rolled sleeves. Once outside, he slid his sunglasses on, hiding his eyes. His features closed, his jaw set, he looked intimidating. And unfamiliar.
“She’ll call.” She suddenly felt the urge to fill the silence that had followed them all the way from Oklahoma City. “She won’t be happy that I didn’t wire the money.”
“Maybe we’ll hear from her soon.” He unlocked the ’Vette’s door and opened it for her.
Once in the car, he circled the block, then turned the opposite direction down Center Street. The town stretched about four miles along the busy main street. The first hotel was a little over a mile through town, on the other side of the highway overpass. They drove past fast-food restaurants, a tire store, a statuary, several florists.
The Wexler Inn resembled an old English cottage. Made of light stucco and dark timbers, it boasted the same old-world charm as the downtown area. Inside, they spoke to a reservations clerk. The young woman didn’t recognize the photos of either Liz or Tony, but she offered to fax the pictures to the night manager, who was at home. The night manager didn’t recognize them, either.
Kit thanked the woman and walked out with Rafe, fighting irritation. Where was Liz? Had she led them on a wild-goose chase? “She never could stay anywhere longer than a minute.”
Hands braced on his hips, Rafe surveyed the long avenue of businesses, the steady stream of noon-hour traffic. “If she’s here, we’ll find her.”
“She’s here,” Kit said quickly, running a hand through her hair. “She’s probably just getting me back for not sending that money right away. Too bad. I’ve been waiting on her, worried out of my mind.”
Rafe turned his head and looked at her, his dark eyebrows arching.
“What?”
A small smile tugged at his lips. “Tough looks good on you.”
She waved him off, walked to the car, but she couldn’t squelch her smile. Nor could she dismiss the warmth his words sent through her. For the first time since last night, he’d said something personal, and it had been a compliment. She thought she’d long ago outgrown the need for male approval, but evidently approval from Rafe was different.
There were five more hotels in town,
and they checked them all. Finally, at the last one, the desk clerk who’d just come on his shift recognized both Tony and Liz. “Sure, they stayed here. Checked out early this morning.”
Kit, who’d been turning away in anticipation of failure, pivoted. “How long were they here?”
“Just the one night.”
“Did they register as Mr. and Mrs. Tony Valentine?” Rafe slid off his glasses, shifted to make room for Kit as she stepped up to the counter.
“No.” The older man typed something into his computer, then looked up. “Mr. and Mrs. Washington.”
Kit shared a look with Rafe, who nodded to show he recognized her mother’s maiden name.
“Thanks.” Rafe took her elbow and guided her outside. This time, he didn’t seem to notice he was touching her.
“So now what?” Kit’s arm burned with the imprint of his fingers.
“We definitely know they’ve been here. We know Liz was at Check It Out a couple of hours ago.”
“We know she wouldn’t leave town without that money,” Kit offered.
“Probably. Unless something happened.”
“Like Alexander?”
“Maybe. I haven’t spotted anyone following us since we left Oklahoma City, but that doesn’t mean Alexander didn’t get a line on Liz and Tony.”
He let go of her to slide the sunglasses on. She could feel his gaze, intense and penetrating, from behind the reflective lenses, and she fought the urge to squirm.
He walked toward the ’Vette. “I think we should check in with the police.”
“There’s no way Liz or Tony would go there.” Sunlight bounced off the car’s hood, shimmered in the lenses of Rafe’s glasses.
“If we’re going to find them before Alexander’s goons do, we need to spread the word about them.”
Kit nodded, determinedly shoving away her admiration of the way his broad shoulders filled out the soft denim of his shirt, the way his jeans molded sleekly to his long legs. She settled into the car.
He drove the way they’d come, into downtown Wexler, past Check It Out and pulled up in front of a white-painted brick building that took up about half a city block. Black stenciling on its front identified it as the Wexler Police Department.
