by Debra Cowan
She stood where she was, her arms wrapped around her waist, her gaze focused on a spot over his shoulder. "Then what?"
He pulled on a sock and a boot, glancing up. "Then we'll decide whether to hang out here or find other accommodations."
"Like these?"
He grinned at her obvious distaste. "Hopefully better."
She gave him an absent smile, her gaze flitting about the room. He looked around, trying to see what she found so interesting. Maybe she simply couldn't get over the lewdness of the place.
Running a hand through his damp hair, he glanced back at her. She looked quickly away and his breath lodged in his chest. He wished she'd quit looking at him as if he were something between her protector and the devil incarnate. She'd tried to hide the raw hunger in her eyes, but he'd caught it all the same.
His quick flare of irritation blazed higher. She wanted him. He wanted her. It would be so easy to use her, to relieve this constant throb in his body until this job was over. But he couldn't do it. Not to either of them. So things would go on between them as they had been.
Stilted. Tense. Damn unsatisfying.
Determined not to dwell on what would never be, Mace rose and moved to the window. Devon stepped out of his way, careful to avoid touching him.
His gut knotted with frustration, but he focused his attention on the parking lot outside, where the same four cars that had been there last night were still parked. The squeak of vibrating beds and the low hum of television sets were absent in the light of day.
He turned to Devon. "I'm going out for some food. I'm sure I don't have to tell you this, but don't open the door to anyone. Except me." He reached for his keys and gun.
"How long will you be gone?"
"No more than ten minutes. I saw a gas station up the highway. I'll be right back."
She nodded, uncertainty darkening her silver eyes.
He moved to the door and slid open the chain lock, then turned the dead bolt. "You'll be okay."
"Sure." She swallowed, but met his gaze, attempting a smile.
He couldn't help it; he wanted to pull her close and hold her until she believed everything would be all right. Instead, he grinned. "Don't let me catch you trying out that bed."
She laughed then. "Get out of here. I'm starving."
With the smile, her skin warmed and her eyes sparkled like they used to when they teased each other. His heart kicked into high gear, and for his sanity as well as hers, he walked out the door.
* * *
The sound of Mace's car faded into the distance and Devon's smile disappeared. Now that she was alone, fear scratched at her. But she refused to succumb.
She'd done just fine up until now. Mace wouldn't let anything happen to her. And if something occurred while he was gone, well … she'd just handle it. She hoped.
She made the bed, then picked up her towel and Mace's. His dark, musky scent rose from the wet towel and for an instant her fingers clenched on it. Then she hung it beside hers on a small silver hook in the bathroom.
Unbidden came the image of him walking from the bathroom. She didn't have to look at him to appreciate his body. In fact, though she'd fought it, her mind replayed full-color images.
Even though he'd been wearing jeans and a shirt, in her mind's eye she saw the broad, muscled planes of his chest, the dark hair that feathered over the padded muscles and down below his navel in a V, to disappear beneath the waistband of his jeans. She knew by feel the supple leather of his skin, the flex of muscle in his strong arms and back and buttocks as they made love, the sleek power of his runner's legs.
More than anything she remembered the way his blue eyes burned for her—coaxing, urging, pleading. A lump formed in her throat and loneliness slammed through her.
This combination of regret and desire always made her want to dismiss her weaknesses, focus on the strength of what they had shared. Wasn't there any way they could be together? Hadn't she grown enough, overcome enough in the last year that she could be what he needed?
What was wrong with her? After what she'd done to Mace, why would he even want her? Oh, physically he did want her. He'd made no secret of that. But he would never open his heart to her again.
Trying to pull her mind from thoughts of Mace, she wandered about the room, staring distastefully at the cardboard sign advertising the pornographic movies. Her mother would laugh herself silly if she could see Devon here.
Her mother! She was scheduled to return from Aunt Sue's last night. In all the commotion, Devon had completely forgotten. Marilee had probably been trying to call her and would be beside herself with worry.
Devon glanced at her watch. Mace had said he would be back in a few minutes, but already ten had passed. He had taken the cellular phone with him. Her gaze lit on the utilitarian beige phone stuffed behind the pink lamp. Just a quick call to reassure Mom. Surely Mace wouldn't mind that.
Devon rushed to the phone and punched in the number.
Marilee answered on the second ring.
"Mom? It's me."
"Devon! Where are you? I've called your house five times and—"
"Just listen, Mom. I don't have long to talk." Devon explained briefly what had happened since she had made her statement at the police office. "I can't tell you where we are, but we're fine. This should all be over soon."
Devon wished she felt as confident as she sounded.
"Mace knows what he's doing, Devon."
"I know."
"He'll be careful."
"I know, Mom." Devon had intended to reassure her mom, but instead Marilee was reassuring her.
"You're much stronger than I ever was, honey. Believe that. Remember it."
Touched by her mother's words, Devon felt her throat tighten. "I will. Listen, Mom, I don't have long to talk."
"Oh." Marilee's voice suddenly dropped to a whisper. "Devon, how are things going with Mace?"
"Mom, I can hardly hear you."
"Are you and Mace—you know, reconciling?"
"No!" she yelped. "Of course not." She lowered her voice, knowing her too-observant, too-hopeful mother would read something into that. "Nothing like that. In fact, we're barely getting along."
"Uh-huh."
Nothing would please Marilee more than for Mace and Devon to reunite, but her mom knew what kind of pain Devon had put Mace through. And Marilee knew what Devon had been trying to learn to handle. "Mom…"
"I'm glad you're all right. Josh told me some of what happened, but he didn't know much, either."
"You've talked to Josh?"
"He's right here. Would you like—"
"No." Devon cut her off before Marilee could ask if she wanted to speak to him. She felt a twinge of guilt that she hadn't even considered calling him again. "I can't stay on the line."
A double knock sounded on the door, then another one. Mace's signal.
"Honey, Josh wants to talk to you."
"Mom, I can't. Mace is back and I've got to go."
"Just for a second, honey."
"No, Mom, really. Tell him I'm sorry. I'll talk to you both soon."
"Devon!" Mace's urgent tone carried through the thin door.
"Take care, honey."
"I will."
"I love you."
"I love you, too, Mom."
"Devon!" Mace's voice was more urgent this time.
"Bye." She quickly hung up the phone, then crawled over the bed to unlock the door.
His blue eyes were gray with concern. He shut the door behind him with his foot and set down the two coffees along with a bulging, white paper sack.
He turned. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"
"No. I'm sorry it took me so long to come to the door."
His gaze scoured her features. "Are you sure? I was afraid something happened to frighten you."
"Honest, Mace." She turned back to lock the door behind him. "I was just talking to Mom."
"You what?" He snagged her elbow and spun her around.
She gaped at him, rubbing the spot, which now stung from his touch. "What's the problem?"
"You called your mom? What in the hell for?"
"Because she returned from Aunt Sue's last night and I knew she'd be worried sick!" Devon jerked away, her earlier warmth toward him quickly evaporating. "I wasn't on there long. I would've waited for you, but I suddenly remembered she was back and I thought I should—oh, no."
He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as if he were trying desperately hard not to yell at her.
"Mace?"
"Devon," he said through gritted teeth, "you should've used my cell phone."
"How am I supposed to know all this stuff?"
"It's okay."
"I'm not in the cloak-and-dagger business. Every time I go outside, I don't immediately assume someone is following me. I'm not used to guys with guns chasing me around. Or people listening to my phone conversations. For crying out loud, I'm not … James Bond or something."
"Okay, okay." Mace chuckled. "You're right. You just didn't think."
She stiffened. "I'm not stupid. I just didn't—"
"Hey." He held up a hand. "I'm not saying anything like that. Just that perhaps you weren't very cautious?"
Her fear and anger eased. "Sorry. It's just that I knew Mom would be worried and I wanted to reassure her."
"It's okay. We'll manage. You didn't call anyone else?"
"No." She rubbed her neck, suddenly ravenous. "What did you get to eat?"
He chuckled. "Some things never change. It was always food first with you."
Mace opened the white sack, removing doughnuts and other breakfast items. He was seemingly unaware of the fondness in his voice, but Devon stopped cold.
Nostalgia and longing hit her with the force of a blow. Blinking back the sudden sting of tears, she took the food from him. Marilee had been right to ask if Devon and Mace had talked about reconciliation.
For the first time in over a year, Devon admitted to herself what she'd been running from. As much as the pain of her father's murder, she'd been fleeing from the horror of what she'd done to Mace.
And now she wanted him back. As well as the whole issue of his job, Devon knew there was a bigger hurdle to clear. She had destroyed Mace's trust in her and she didn't know if she could ever earn it back.
* * *
Chapter 10
« ^ »
Tension prickled in the room, sharp with danger and awareness and allure. It wasn't just the knowledge that they'd been found once and could be again. It was the full-blown realization that her life was in danger. And she could be spending her last minutes with Mace.
The temptation to curl up beside him and pretend none of this was happening overwhelmed her. But it was happening and she had to deal with it.
Minutes stretched into hours as they waited for the phone to ring, and when it finally did, Devon couldn't bear to listen to Mace's taut voice. She got up and went into the bathroom.
"Dev?" Mace rose from the bed, alarmed at her suddenly pale features.
"I'm fine," she assured him before closing the door.
"Okay, gotcha." He spoke quietly to O'Kelly, explaining how they'd been found and where they'd run to, all the while wondering if Devon was really all right. "So have you come up with anything?"
"Not yet." O'Kelly's voice lowered. "We're still working our way through the list of PD employees."
"Look at everyone. Hell, check out the secretaries."
"Will do. I'll get back to you ASAP."
Mace hung up the cell phone and looked toward the bathroom door. Devon was holding up admirably, but it was getting to her. Just like it was getting to him. He tried not to notice, but the pinched lines of her mouth and the shadows of fatigue under her eyes tugged at him.
Tension coiled in his shoulders until they ached. His head throbbed and his gut knotted with the instinct that the hammer of doom was about to fall.
And until O'Kelly called back, he and Devon were stuck here. Together.
They both needed a release. Of course, the most preferable way of doing that was impossible, and he quickly dismissed it.
He set the cell phone on the bedside table and glanced around the room. His gaze fell on the old money box that hung at the head of the bed and he grinned.
"Coming out anytime soon, Dev?" He dug into his jeans and popped a quarter into the box, grinning as he imagined her face when she finally emerged from the bathroom.
The bed bucked beneath him and his head slammed into the wall, but he quickly balanced himself and lay down, folding his arms behind his head. The bed shook and jiggled like a mechanical bull, but Mace relaxed his body and tried to appreciate that some of the kinks might be worked out of his neck.
Staring up at the mirrored tiles on the ceiling, be gave a bark of laughter at the jittery reflection bouncing back at him.
The bathroom door opened and Devon exclaimed over the annoying squeak of the bed. "Mace! What are you doing?"
"Thought I'd try this bed." He jounced around like rock in a cement mixer. "Never tried one before."
She grinned, tension melting from her face. Her eyes sparkled with that old familiar light that had always set his blood to humming. "Garrett, you're crazy!"
"Hop on." He patted the spread beside him. "You might like the ol' rock-o-rama."
She arched a dubious brow at the wiggling, jiggling contraption, then chuckled. "You're the kinky one, not me."
"Never know 'til you try it." He grinned, astonished at the joy bubbling up inside him. Man, he'd missed her!
He missed making her laugh, making her eyes turn dark with need for him, making her moan low in her throat for him. "Come on," he coaxed, knowing he shouldn't. "You'll never forgive yourself if you miss this opportunity."
As he slid around like unset Jell-O, she laughed, a rich, full sound that made him respond in kind.
"Do you have any idea how ridiculous you look?"
He reached up and snagged her wrist to tug her down beside him. "Hah! I'm not the only one."
"Mace!" She landed on her stomach, and raspberry velvet bunched beneath them. Her arm brushed his and their thighs entwined. Color flushed her neck and cheeks as she quickly disentangled herself from him and scooted a few inches away.
It wasn't far enough to erase the scent of honeysuckle shampoo or forestall the occasional slide of silky hair against his arm. Mace swallowed, his body starting a low, heavy throbbing. "Hey, you better hang on. I think it's speeding up."
Latching on to the velvet bedspread she grinned up at him, and his breath caught at the sheer pleasure in her eyes. "Well, aside from not being able to think—"
"Or hear," he interjected loudly, over the annoying creak of the machine.
She grinned. "I guess it's not so bad. Although I don't see how you could make love—er, do anything else while it was on."
Her cheeks colored at the slip, but Mace pretended not to notice, even though his gut knotted up and heat slid under his skin.
He'd want nothing so jarring as this bed to get in the way of feeling her satiny skin against his, her lips sparking needles of heat wherever they touched, her body welcoming him home.
He shut off those thoughts. They'd only get him on a course to trouble, considering they were going to be stuck in here alone most of the day.
The bed gave a final jiggle and groaned to a stop. In the sudden silence, Devon laughed, holding her stomach. "That's the goofiest thing I've ever seen. You always could make me laugh."
He grinned and pushed himself up, so that he leaned against the wall.
Her gaze followed him and her laughing eyes sobered. "Did you talk to O'Kelly?"
"Yeah. Looks like we're going to be here for a while longer."
"No more vibrating bed!" she pleaded with a pained smile. She pushed herself to a sitting position and shoved her dark hair out of her face.
He grinned. "No more rock-o-rama."
She laughed softly, her gaze meeting his. "So tell me
what O'Kelly said."
"They're going to pick up one of the guys you described. They've been watching him since we left town."
"Do they think he's the one who cut my brake lines?"
"Not sure. Probably not."
"What happens after they pick him up?"
"You go in, make a positive ID."
She swallowed, nodding.
Mace moved off the bed, anxious to get away from the heat of her, the scent of her that tempted him to reach across and pull her to him.
"So we wait some more?"
"Yep." He kept his voice even, but tension lined his face. Automatically he checked his Glock, then double-checked to make sure his extra fifteen-round clips were filled. The .357 lay nestled safely in his duffel, just in case, and his .32 Walther rested snugly in his ankle holster just inside the top of his boot.
She surged up from the bed, her shoulders stiff. "Seems like all we've done is wait."
"I know," he said softly.
She chewed at her bottom lip, then met his gaze, her eyes uncertain. "You're not still mad about me calling Mom, are you?"
"We'll deal with it, Dev. Try not to worry."
She grimaced and turned away, pacing back and forth in front of the television.
He dug into his duffel for the pack of cards he always carried. "Wanna watch TV?"
Her lips quirked. "You're kidding, right?"
"We can play cards, if you want."
"Gin?"
She knew he preferred poker, so he pretended to hesitate. "Oh, all right."
She smiled and moved back to the bed, sitting on the edge and curling one leg under her. "You know, Garrett, seeing how at ease you are in this room, I've really got to wonder about that job of yours."
"How so?" He sat across from her, drawing up his knees and leaning against the wall.
"Well…" She glanced around, her stare lingering pointedly first on the television, then the change box. "Just how many of these hotels have you been in?"
He chuckled as he dealt. "That's a little personal, don't you think?"
She smiled, then smothered a yawn. Throwing out a card, she asked for another.
They played several hands. Outside, semis roared past on the highway. From a few doors down, Mace could hear the dim hum of voices from new clientele. The only sounds in the room were the occasional creak of the bed when one of them moved and the low murmurs as they asked for another card.
