The fall must have addled her brain. Jayne suddenly realized that she was lying on the floor wearing nothing but her slip and panties, and in the fall the slip had ridden up high on her thighs. "Do you mind?" she said coolly, fluttering her fingers in Boone's direction.
"Pardon me, ma'am," he said, deepening his Southern accent and shifting away.
Jayne gathered what was left of her dignity and crawled back beneath the covers, while Boone remained on top. As soon as she was situated, he sat up and pulled off his black T-shirt.
"It's awfully chilly to be sleeping without … something on."
He tossed the shirt aside and lay back down. "I'll be fine. Nice of you to be concerned for me, though." There was just a touch of sarcasm in that last sentence.
At least he kept his jeans on. When he reached over and turned off the bedside lamp and they were left in darkness, Jayne breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe if she didn't have to look at him, she wouldn't be so … so distracted.
"I'm not being silly in wanting to call my parents," she whispered.
"I know. They're bound to be worried."
"That's true, but I'm also anxious about what my father might do. If this area is overrun with federal agents, army, navy, marines…"
"Navy in Arizona?" Boone asked, humor in his deep voice.
"Probably," she said softly.
"We'll be fine," he assured her.
How could she tell Boone that if he got killed or hurt because she'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time, she'd never forgive herself? There was more than one danger to worry about. If Darryl found out who she was and that Jim had survived, they were both in trouble. If they actually did get out of here and Boone was mistaken for a kidnapper, he might be dead before she had a chance to explain things.
Apparently Boone didn't want to talk anymore. Just as well. The man confused her. He looked like a criminal, he cursed too much, he was crude and wicked. But he was also one of the good guys. An angel. A modern-day knight.
More than that, he was sexy as all get-out. The smile, the eyes, the body. A quickie? She knew what a quickie was, thank you very much. Her one sexual experience had lasted less than two minutes, and it had been painful and unpleasant. She hadn't minded at the time, because she'd thought the man who had asked her to marry him actually loved her, and that things would get better with time.
But she and Dustin Talbot hadn't had time. She'd found out too soon that the only reason he'd asked her to marry him was that he had political ambitions, and being married to Gus Barrington's daughter would be a real boost for his career.
Since her recovery from that disastrous encounter, she'd been cautiously guarding her heart and waiting. Waiting for the perfect man to come along. Waiting for her knight in shining armor to appear.
She might occasionally think of Boone as a kind of errant knight, but he was far from perfect.
Maybe she'd waited too long. She was twenty-seven years old, and no man had ever made her moan or shake or shout yee-haw.
As Jayne drifted toward sleep, she chastised herself. She'd be lucky to survive the coming days, and here she was worried about her sex life! Or lack thereof.
But once, just once, she'd like to shout yee-haw.
* * *
Boone awoke slowly, reluctant to return to the world of the waking. He'd feel better if he didn't have to sleep at all, at least not on this job. He didn't trust Darryl. And Darryl didn't trust anyone.
There were four of them living in this shack, five if you counted Jayne, and yet there was only one working cell phone. Darryl's. One car. Darryl's. This shack was well off the beaten path, and whenever anyone needed to go to the nearest poor excuse for a town, usually for food or beer, he was not allowed to go alone. They traveled in pairs, always.
Setting up his cover here had taken time, but thanks to Dean and Luther, he'd had the paper trail and the contacts to make it work. An introduction from a snitch who hadn't yet been retired or caught had brought Boone, as Richard Becker, into the circle that Darryl ran and worked. And Darryl was his only key to finding Gurza.
As he came fully awake, Boone realized he was warm. Very nicely, unusually warm. Jayne was using his chest as a pillow. Her head rested over his heart, and one arm was draped around him. She breathed deeply and evenly, and had thrown the covers off so the sheet was partially twisted around both of them. Most of the green comforter had fallen off the foot of the bed.
He should think of Jayne as nothing more than a nuisance. That was all she was. She had stumbled onto something ugly, and in doing so she'd complicated an already difficult job. That aside, Jayne Barrington was everything he didn't like in a woman. Petite. Classy. Spoiled. Prudish. Rich. Dainty.
It was this make-believe relationship, he supposed, that made him occasionally look at her and wish that some of what he pretended was real.
He touched Jayne's red-gold curls and gently shifted her head. Comfy as this was, it definitely wasn't a good idea. "Wake up, sugar," he whispered.
She murmured against his chest, wriggled a little and didn't wake up.
His physical reaction to finding a half-dressed, pretty woman clinging to him in the morning, especially when he hadn't had sex in months, was completely natural, he was certain. Perfectly understandable. Somehow he had to get this woman off him. Now.
"Jayne," he said a little more loudly, patting her on the back this time.
She stirred finally, lifting her head to look him in the eye, whispering, "Yee…," before coming fully awake.
Realizing where she was, Jayne rolled quickly away. "How dare you?" she asked in that prim voice she used when she was really annoyed.
"Pardon me, Miss Priss, but you will notice that I'm on my side of the bed and have been all night."
She had no argument for that.
"Don't worry about it," he said as he left the bed. "You probably just got cold." Or lonely. "No big deal."
"Sorry," she said softly.
Darryl was probably already up and about. Maybe the boys, too. He really should grab the headboard and shake the bed and tease Jayne until she squealed. But he couldn't. No way. Not now. He grabbed his pistol from the bedside table and stood. "I'm going to take a shower." A cold one. "Lock the door behind me. Don't let anyone in but me."
"Don't worry," she muttered.
Once he was in the hallway, he listened until he heard the lock turn. He knew Jayne wouldn't open that door to anyone but him, but still he rushed through his shower. One way to get his mind off inappropriate speculation was to get his mind back on business.
Gurza had the kid, he knew it. Felt it in his gut. Maybe he was so damned certain because he knew if he didn't find the boy with Gurza, he'd probably never recover him at all, and that wasn't an option. So Boone could not let himself get distracted.
When he exited the shower, resolve strengthened, and headed for the kitchen, he noticed that Darryl was awake and sitting on the couch in the living room, staring at the space where his television had been.
"You owe me a television, Becker," the big man growled as Boone made a beeline for the coffee that smelled so good.
"When this is over, I'll buy you a big-screen TV," Boone said loudly enough for his voice to carry from the kitchen.
"You'll have the money for it," Darryl said, "once you start doing business with Gurza."
Darryl and the elusive Gurza thought Richard Becker was looking to expand his territory from the Atlanta area to all of Georgia and into Alabama. Since Gurza operated primarily in the Southwest, he was definitely interested in a piece of that action.
Darryl had been working with Gurza long enough to have a nice little bundle of his own somewhere. But for this meeting and subsequent deal, a low profile was called for. They didn't want to call any attention to themselves. Another reason the deal gone wrong really chapped Darryl's butt.
"I'm thinking of sending the boys out this afternoon to get me a TV," Darryl grumbled as Boone stepped into the living room. "I don't l
ike this. The radio doesn't pick up much of anything out here, just that one easy-listening station."
Boone's heart climbed into his throat. "Afraid something important might be happening in the world of fashion and entertainment and you're missing it?" he said sarcastically. "Wondering what the weather's going to be like tomorrow? Besides," he added, "you said we were to stick close for these last few days. Do you really want to send those two idiots out to buy a television?"
Darryl looked up and around to glare at Boone. "One of those idiots is my nephew."
"I know that," Boone said. "But he's still an idiot."
Darryl just shrugged. "Besides, they're not going to buy one. They're going to break into an empty house and steal one."
The very idea made Boone sweat. What if the house turned out not to be empty? What if, once again, things went wrong? "Oh, yeah, great way to keep a low profile. Steal someone's television. Get the cops and the locals all stirred up."
Darryl didn't like having his authority questioned. "I have a particular house in mind. It's a vacation home, and the couple that stays there a few months out of the year have gone home. No one will know. No one will get stirred up."
"You've given this a lot of thought," Boone said as he sipped at his coffee.
"I don't like being out of touch."
Every curse word Boone knew flitted through his mind. Jayne would have been horrified.
"When are the boys going out?"
"This afternoon." Darryl grinned. "Wanna ride along?"
And leave Jayne here with Darryl? No way. "No thanks."
* * *
She didn't have much choice but to wear one of Boone's T-shirts, at least for a little while. Her suit was to be dry-cleaned only, so she couldn't do much about that, but her slip, blouse, bra and panties needed to be washed. Badly. The hose she'd simply thrown away.
Jayne cringed as she used liquid hand soap to wash her delicate things. The soap was surely much too harsh, but it would have to do. While she was in the middle of lathering and rinsing her things, Boone hammered on the door.
"Just a minute."
"No," he said. "Let me in. Now."
"I'm almost—"
"Now!"
She reached across and unlocked the bathroom door, and as Boone walked in and slammed the door behind him, locking it once again, she finished rinsing and wringing out her delicates.
"What are you doing?" Boone asked with a shake of his head.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" She kept her eyes on the last of her work as she wrung out her panties and hung them up to dry. She should be embarrassed, and she was, a little. But considering the situation, she didn't think she needed to overreact just because Boone was staring at her panties.
He shook his head again and glared at her. "I told you to stay in the room."
"No, you didn't. You told me not to let anyone but you in. I peeked into the hallway and no one was there, so I ran down to the bathroom and locked myself in here. I just needed to rinse out a few things."
His eyes raked over her body. Jayne didn't flinch. She was perfectly decent in one of Boone's many black T-shirts. It was baggy and hung almost to her knees. It was actually longer than her coral skirt.
He moved closer, leaned over her and whispered in her ear. "We have to get out of here today."
Her heart lurched. She wanted out of this place more than she'd ever wanted anything, but a necessary escape meant something had gone wrong. "Why?"
"Darryl's sending the boys out to steal a TV this afternoon. As soon as they see the news and find out who you are, we're done."
"Darn," she mumbled.
"My thought exactly," Boone said gruffly.
Jayne's heart lurched when someone tried the doorknob. The jiggling of the knob was followed by a sharp knock.
Boone grumbled, "Hold your horses."
Just as Jayne automatically said, "Just a minute."
Doug called out. "I gotta take a leak."
"Go outside!" Boone shouted. "We're not … finished."
"Jeez," Doug complained as he moved down the hallway. "It's like living with a couple of rabbits."
When Doug was gone and the hallway was silent again, Jayne looked into Boone's eyes. He was angry and he was very frustrated. Taking care of her had ruined this case, on which he'd spent months. Judging by the sober expression on his face, he probably wished, at least a little, that he'd let Darryl shoot her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Me, too."
"Maybe you could let me get away and … stay here to finish what you started?"
Boone shook his head slowly. "If I let you get away, Darryl will kill me on the spot."
"Oh," she breathed, her heart kicking again. There was another footstep in the hallway, another knock on the door.
"One minute!" Boone said testily.
"Sorry," Marty called.
"What do we do?" Jayne asked, leaning into Boone and whispering softly.
"You're not in there alone, are you, Becker?" Marty asked, more than a hint of teasing in his voice.
Boone stared down at Jayne, his long hair brushing his cheek, his corded neck telling her he was wound too tightly. "Get your stuff," he said, nodding toward the items she had drying on the shower-curtain rod.
"They're not dry."
He clenched his jaw. "If you want to keep anything that's hanging up there, bring it with you now."
No matter how dire the circumstances, she wasn't going to run without her underwear. Jayne quickly snapped all the wet items down, wondering as she did so what Boone would do next. Would he conjure up some kind of noise to make Marty think they were fooling around in the bathroom? Maybe pick her up as they left the tiny room and impatiently carry her down the hallway?
In the end, he didn't do anything but open the door and take her arm as he led her back to the bedroom. And still, Marty snickered.
* * *
Chapter 5
« ^ »
Boone ejected the magazine from the butt of his Colt and examined it quickly. Fully loaded, as he'd known it would be. He had hopes that maybe, just maybe, they could get out of here without the escape turning messy. He had to be ready just in case they weren't so lucky. He stuck the pistol in the waistband of his jeans and shrugged on his leather jacket.
They'd talked it over. Twice. Jayne knew exactly what she was supposed to do. He glanced at her. She stood by the window, looking out on another sunny Arizona afternoon. She hadn't complained, but she was scared.
He couldn't blame her.
She looked different than she had when he'd first seen her. For one thing, she wore one of his black T-shirts with her slim peach skirt, pearls and pumps. Her hair was curlier than it had been when he'd caught her running from the scene of Jim's shooting. She'd washed her hair and let it dry naturally, bemoaning the lack of a hair dryer, and the curls went this way and that. She didn't like it. He did.
She didn't bother with makeup now, since all she had in her purse was lipstick and mascara. Jayne didn't need makeup. Her skin was like silk, and her lips didn't need artificial color.
Any man might be distracted, especially if he had her still-damp panties and bra stuffed in the pocket of his jacket, as Boone did.
"Ready, sugar?"
Jayne nodded.
Doug and Marty were running their errand, which meant they'd only have Darryl to deal with. Darryl usually took an afternoon nap. Boone crossed his fingers that this was one of those afternoons.
He took Jayne's arm and they stepped into the living room. Sure enough, Darryl was sleeping on the couch, his head on the armrest, his feet hanging over the end.
Boone and Jayne turned, arm in arm still, toward the kitchen. They hadn't taken two steps before the couch creaked. Boone closed his eyes and cursed silently.
"Where the hell do you two think you're going?" Jayne had left her purse, blouse and slip behind, but wore her suit jacket over the T-shirt. They didn't want to look as if they were leavi
ng for good.
Boone turned to face Darryl as the fat man came to his feet. "We're going for a walk." Easily, and as if he was hiding the gesture from Jayne, he laid his hand over the butt of his pistol.
"Why don't you wait until the boys get back?" Darryl scratched his massive belly. "They might want to walk with you."
Boone shook his head. "No."
Jayne, playing her part perfectly, reached out and grabbed his arm. "Is something wrong, BooBoo? You don't seem very happy today. We don't have to go for a walk. I can make you something to eat or rub your back or … or wash your clothes or—"
"Enough," Boone snapped, rolling his eyes,
Darryl grinned, buying their ploy that Jayne was getting just a little bit too clingy for her captor.
If everything went well, they'd walk toward the vast stretch of rugged unpopulated land that separated the shack from rolling hills and red rock formations in the distance. Darryl would be watching from the window, of that Boone was certain. When they were out of sight, Boone would fire one shot into the air. Darryl would be satisfied, thinking Jayne was dead.
But Boone wouldn't be returning to the shack. He and Jayne were going to keep moving, and by the time Darryl thought to look for him and the boys got back with the car and the television, Boone and Jayne would be long gone. He hoped.
He took Jayne's arm and escorted her through the kitchen and out the door. A gust of wind met them. It wouldn't be an easy walk, but they'd be fine. Anything was better than facing Darryl and his boys once they knew the truth.
They circled the shack, and Jayne got a good look at the landscape they'd be crossing on foot. It wasn't going to be easy, he knew, but it was the best chance they had.
He'd studied this area, and he knew they'd be all right. Might have a few rough hours, but in the end Jayne would be safe … and he'd be back to square one. Dammit, he had no idea how to start over, how to get to Gurza now that his hard-won association with Darryl was finished.
His first hint that things were not going as planned was the sound of footsteps behind them. "He's following us," Boone muttered.
IN BED WITH BOONE Page 5
