Mad Love

by Amy Olle

  “Here, take these.”

  She held out her hand and he dropped two pills into her palm.

  Then he offered her the sandwich. “Better try to eat something with them though.”

  “Why did you pay for my lunch?” Though the sandwich held little appeal, she took it from him.

  “I don’t want you using your cards.”

  “Too easy to track?”

  He inclined his head.

  “I’ll pay you back,” she muttered.

  The pills abraded her throat when she swallowed them so she took a long drink from the water bottle. More water was needed as she forced down bites of dry bread and turkey. Soon, the pain in her side eased. She relaxed in her seat and watched the scenery change from populated urban cityscapes to the rolling hills of western Pennsylvania. When the hills flattened out into the rural farmlands of eastern Ohio, she began to doze.

  When the car’s lulling motion varied, she stirred from sleep. They’d exited the highway and Leo steered them into a hotel parking lot.

  Rubbing her eyes, she straightened in her seat. “We’re stopping?”

  “I hope that’s okay.” He killed the engine and gave her a long, assessing look. “I need to make some more calls and grab a couple hours of sleep.”

  She lifted her shoulders. “I’ve never been on the run before. This is all new to me.”

  There it was again. The almost-smile.

  He grabbed their bags from the back seat and she scooped her purse off the floor at her feet, which still sheltered a cowering Arlo. Sore from her injuries and stiff from lack of movement, she walked slowly. Leo shuffled along beside her, a deep scowl on his face.

  While he disappeared indoors, she hung back to let Arlo down in a grassy speck of lawn. When Leo returned for them, she followed him inside, through the hotel lobby, and down a long corridor of doors to arrive at the last one on the right.

  With a card key, he let them into the room, which had no view and only one bed, but was quiet and clean. After spending the previous thirteen hours in a car, her body begged to stretch out on the double bed.

  But first, she needed a shower.

  “Do you mind if I have a look at your cell phone?” Leo asked. “I want to make sure you don’t have any apps running that can track your location, or anything else that might cause us problems we don’t need.”

  She pulled the device from a side pocket on her purse and handed it over. “Do you mind if I shower?”

  A flicker of something flitted across his features, but he shook his head and stared down at her phone. “Not at all.”

  She plucked her suitcase off the bed and retreated to the bathroom.

  Not until she was in the shower and soaked through did she realize she’d handed her phone over to him without a moment’s hesitation. Not one suspicious or cynical thought had entered her head before doing so, even though her entire life was on that phone. One app opened directly to her email account, which contained her credit card and banking statements, and access to all her research on Aron King.

  And she’d just left Leo alone with the device. As though she trusted him completely. Implicitly.

  Damn, she was bad at this.

  With a defeated sigh, she shut her eyes and let the warm water pour over her.

  But as soon as her eyes closed, memories of the assault sprang from the shadows in her mind to torment her. The terror hit her all at once. The utter helplessness she’d felt to realize she couldn’t match his power, or his ruthlessness. The panic that’d gripped her when she stared into his cold, dead eyes. The devastating certainty that she wouldn’t survive the attack.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks and she swiped at them, but she couldn’t stem the onslaught. Fear rose up to choke her and she slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle the wrenching sobs that racked her body.

  Sinking to the tub floor, she pulled her knees to her chest and wept.

  He awoke with a start. That was how he always woke up, as if he hadn’t meant to fall asleep and yanked himself awake, ready to fight.

  At his side, the soft, delicate sounds of Prue’s snoring told him she slept.

  Daylight persisted at the edges of the drawn curtains, and the clock on the nightstand informed him that he’d slept nearly an hour. He rubbed a hand over his face and braced himself for the next phase of their journey.

  Unable to come up with a better strategy, he’d resigned himself to the course he’d chosen. Two weeks. That’s all he could give her. He’d keep her hidden, but only until Owen returned. And not one day more.

  While Prue showered he’d called the power company to have service switched on as soon as possible. Some instinct, or maybe it was just plain old-fashioned paranoia, told him not to stay in one place too long. They needed to keep moving, and if they were going to make it to their destination yet tonight, they needed to hit the road within the next hour.

  Just then, movement at his elbow startled him, and he jolted. In turn, a gray puffball launched itself a foot into the air.

  Leo stifled a curse and collapsed back in the bed as the cat landed gracefully in the covers. Prue’s cat was charcoal gray, except for the splotches of white on all four of his paws and his tiny chest. He sidled closer and placed a white paw tentatively on Leo’s rib cage. Then he looked at Leo, with only one eye.

  The little guy was missing his right eye, which lay uselessly shut, the small slit nearly lost amidst gray fur. With one finger, Leo scratched him under the chin and the cat stretched into his touch. The soft hum of his purring motor revved.

  Once satiated, Arlo curled up next to Prue and Leo climbed from the bed. He set the alarm on his cell phone to make sure they left on time, then headed into the bathroom for a quick shower.

  Afterward, he pulled on a clean pair of shorts and used the towel to scrub the water from his wet hair.

  When he returned to the main room, Prue still slept, so he retrieved the first-aid kit from the console and approached the bed. Her dark lashes lay on rounded cheeks flushed pink with sleep. A pang wrenched his insides when he noticed the shadow of a bruise forming on her cheekbone.

  He trailed his fingertips over her skin, careful not touch the tender spot. She was warm, but not feverish.

  His fingers lingered on her unbearably soft skin.

  Dammit, but he should’ve been there for her. With a sharp bite of regret, he pulled his hand away and knelt on the floor beside her.

  He lifted the hem of her shirt to reveal the site of her wound, then gently peeled back the bandage. A huff of breath he didn’t know he’d been holding rushed from him. The cut looked good, clean and healthy. He placed a blob of antibiotic ointment on the gash and applied two butterfly bindings before covering the area with a larger bandage.

  His work done, his gaze wandered over her body. Over the smooth skin of her abdomen to the dip of her waist. A deep, primitive sensation tugged at his groin. It’d been so long since he’d experienced it, he’d almost forgotten the feel of his own arousal.

  Madness took hold and he flattened his palm over the rounded swell of her belly. The night he spent in her bed, had he taken the time to explore her body? To taste her skin? If he had, would another taste now return his memory to him?

  He wanted to remember being with her. To recall the feel of losing himself in her warm, soft flesh. What sounds had she made when he’d entered her body? He’d been dead so long, he’d forgotten what it felt like to partake in life. Suddenly, he wanted to remember that, too.

  He bent his head over her and searched out her scent. With a mere sliver of space between his face and her skin, he inhaled deeply. Then he pressed his lips to the unharmed flesh on her abdomen.

  Her soft gasp reverberated through him. Without lifting his head, his eyes met hers over the plane of her stomach. A primitive, possessive need took control. His grip on her waist tightened and he rose up, ready to claim what belonged to him.

  Then his gaze landed on the darkening shadow under her left eye.


  He touched her cheek, beneath the budding bruise. “He hit you?”

  She nodded, and her eyes clouded with The Fear. He recognized it instantly.

  “What if he comes back?” Her throat worked when she swallowed. “What if he finds us?”

  “I’ll kill him.”

  His response didn’t dampen the terror. Might’ve increased it, actually.

  “But you won’t be with me forever,” she said softly.

  His chest ached. “Prue, I know I let you down. I’m sorry.”

  Her brow crinkled with equal parts confusion and heartbreak. “You didn’t let me down. You came even though I told you not to. You came when I didn’t call you.”

  “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

  A hint of a smile touched her lips. “No. I’ll never forget what you did for me.”

  “I won’t leave you again unless I know you’re safe.” Emotion thickened his voice. “I promise.”

  Oddly, that statement did dilute some of her trepidation. A soft hum of gratification ricocheted through him. More than anything, he wanted to banish that last shadow of fear from her eyes.

  Of its own volition, his hand on her stomach rubbed in slow, soothing circles.

  When her mouth formed a sexy little O of surprise and her breathing hitched higher, his hand stilled. Their gazes tangled.

  Then he watched in horror as her hand slipped down her body, over her stomach, where her fingers snagged on the hem of her shirt. With an aching, sensual slowness, she inched the fabric upward.

  She. Inched. The. Fabric. Upward.

  The punch of lust that struck him was so strong it knocked the air from his lungs. He wanted to fuck her. The wanting was visceral. All-consuming. God, but he wanted to know what it was like to bury his cock in her wet heat.

  She was the first thing he wanted from this world in so fucking long that his body began to tremble with the pain of holding himself back. His breath shuddered through him.

  “Leo?” Her eyes pleaded with him, and fear shifted to something more like hope.

  Correction: Arousal.

  He gulped.

  She’s vulnerable, he reminded himself. He’d be the worst kind of monster to take advantage of her.

  Then she touched his hand, and her eyes turned soft and imploring.

  Owen was going to kill him.

  For crimes already committed, the devilish voice whispered inside him. What was another wrongdoing added to the first? Especially if he restricted it to a lesser crime?

  After a gluttonous feast, what was one more little taste?

  He dipped his head, and his mouth brushed the skin near her naval. His fingertips touched where his mouth had been and a breathy moan escaped her.

  Standing at the precipice, his gaze sought hers once more. He didn’t know what he sought from her. Affirmation? Permission? Some sign that what he was about to do wasn’t the stupidest, most self-destructive thing he could possibly choose to do just then?

  But when he peered into her face, he didn’t see any of those things. He glimpsed instead the shimmer of fear, and he knew what he would do.

  While he couldn’t fight her battle with The Fear for her, he could help her deceive it, at least for a time. He could stoke her pleasure to the point where no room remained for fear.

  If he hadn’t already made his decision, Prue, in her maddening sweetness, would have pushed him to it when she reached for him with one small, trembling hand and slipped her fingers through his hair. Tenderly, she fondled the dark locks. Then, with gentle but firm pressure, she nudged his head back down to her body.

  Something inside him, way deep down in the darkest corner of his soul that’d been despaired without light for all the ages, sparked.

  His hand slipped to the delicate skin of her inner thighs.

  She appeared mildly alarmed, and confused, but as his hand inched higher, she slowly parted her legs. He hooked a finger beneath the crotch of her panties and pulled the fabric aside.

  With the tip of his index finger, he traced the opening of her sex. She gasped, and he experienced a flash of primitive pleasure. Taking his time, he toyed with her curls until they grew moist. Then he pushed a finger inside her warm hollow. He stroked and teased, and soon her arousal made his fingers slippery.

  Her soft moans pulled him under and the last clear thought he remembered having was that, while he was sorry for betraying his friend again, he wouldn’t regret giving Prue anything, everything, she asked of him.

  She wiggled her hips, chasing the pleasure he gave her, and her breathing came in sharp, quick pants. Her eagerness devastated his control. Settling more deeply between her thighs, he dipped his head and took a long, slow lick of her.

  She tasted of heat and honey. He lapped up her flavor while her soft cries tore him apart.

  He was unraveling.

  Then she lifted her hips, and something uncoiled inside him, near his black center. Something soft and wild where it should be wound tight and hard, and safe.

  Before he was ready for her pleasure to end, her body clenched around his fingers. He slid a second finger inside her and stroked in counterpoint to his tongue.

  She cried out with her release, the sound throaty and uninhibited. In that moment of her unguarded ecstasy and ultimate trust, she was a goddess. Her cheeks flushed pink and the lips of her plump mouth parted with her spent arousal. When she blinked open her eyes and offered him a shy smile, the blue irises shone like buffed jewels.

  For his part, he’d never been so hard.

  With a piercing wail, the alarm he’d set on his cell phone shattered the quiet in the room.

  He left the cradle of her thighs, pushed to his feet, and silenced his phone.

  His voice rasped harshly when he said, “We better get going.”

  Chapter Ten

  In the confines of the car, her awareness of him took on a new potency. His scent assailed her. His hands on the steering wheel whipped the odd little flutters in her stomach into a whirlwind.

  The dark scowl on his face hurt her heart.

  As they hit the highway and headed north, leaving the small Ohio town behind, his dark mood seemed to grow darker. Indeed, the farther north they drove, the more she sensed him pulling away. He was turning inward, away from her, and after their intimate interaction in the hotel room, she didn’t understand why.

  They passed over the border into Michigan, and for the next three hours, they drove north and west. Cities faded into rural landscapes and the sun dipped low in the sky. By the time the sun slipped behind the earth, cloaking them in a blanket of darkness, the change in him from the hot, attentive man in the hotel room to the cold, withdrawn one behind the wheel of the car was complete.

  She stared out her window and watched small snippets of scenery pass by in the car’s headlights. Nearly four hours after leaving the hotel, Leo steered the car from the highway. They journeyed along a rural road, deeper into the night. After a time, they passed through the smallest downtown she’d ever seen and then, at the end of a prototypical main street, turned the corner.

  A large ship loomed before them. Leo maneuvered into a small gravel parking lot and joined a line of cars waiting before the boat.

  “What is this?”

  “A car ferry. It’s a short ride out to the island.”

  “Wait, you were serious about the island?”

  The ship’s hull opened and the first car inched forward, disappearing inside the boat’s dark underbelly.

  “I was serious.” He inched the car forward.

  Curiosity overcame her. “What’s the name of it? How big is it?”

  His scowl deepened. “Thief Island, and it’s small, but the population swells in the summer now that the damned tourists have discovered it.”

  He eased the vehicle up a gently sloping ramp and slipped inside the steel ferry. They filed with the other cars into parking spots, and then he switched off the car’s engine.

  “We’ve got t
o go above deck for the trip over.”

  She tucked Arlo inside her purse and followed Leo across the dim lower deck to a poorly lit stairwell. They climbed the steep steps and emerged on the boat deck, where a gusty wind lifted off the lake to whip at her hair and the hem of her top.

  Passengers gathered at the deck rails and she squeezed into an open spot while Leo hung back. Far below, water lapped at the boat’s sturdy sides while in the far distance, a few lonesome lights twinkled in the dark.

  A low rumble soon sounded, and beneath her feet, the floor began to vibrate as the ferry’s engines powered on. Minutes later, the boat began to pull away from the dock. She crept slowly through the water until they reached the edge of the harbor. Then, with the blast of a horn, the engines thundered and the boat set out into the night.

  She had no sense where they were headed. No light guided them. No moon or stars dotted the sky. Behind them, land fell away.

  Amazed by it all, she turned to Leo with a smile.

  But he wasn’t there.

  A brief search of the small crowd tracked him to a white bench a few feet away where he sat with his elbows on his knees, staring down at the concrete flooring.

  Feeling the loss of him acutely, she turned toward the darkness. She stared into the black void, which her fears rushed forward to fill until, in the distance, lights winked to life. The railing pressed into her chest when she leaned against it, desperate to catch more glimpses of lights.

  Soon, the shadowy form of a landmass rising from the sea took shape in the night sky.

  When the boat eased into a harbor much like the one they’d departed, she followed Leo back downstairs into the ship’s hull. In the car once more, he steered them onto land, but while most of the other cars leaving the small parking lot exited to the right, he went left.

  They drove for a time along another dark, rural road. Towering trees sprang up around them and the darkness became stifling, suffocating. The smooth stretch of road became rough and bumpy, and she grabbed onto the handle above her door.

  Deep in the woods, he turned up a rocky path and when they came to a seemingly random spot, he slowed the car to a stop. He switched off the engine and she peered through the window into utter blackness. Instinctively, she shrank back in her seat.