Out of Control

by Shannon McKenna

  “It’s OK,” he told her. “I’m fine.”

  She dropped a kiss on his hand. He turned his fingers to stroke her face. A pale beam of sunlight found its way between the curtains. It lit up his eyes till they glowed like glacial water. His fingertips on her face were so gentle. Memorizing every detail.

  There were so many things she wanted to say. How sorry she was for every scratch and bruise. How she regretted dragging him into this awful tarpit of hers. And how incredibly grateful she was not to be all alone there, guilty though that made her feel.

  And underneath it, an emotion she couldn’t admit to him, but could no longer deny to herself. She trembled like water shaken by deep currents, aching with longing deeper than anything she’d ever known.

  She was in love with him. She had to be so careful. Stay sharp, keep things light, while her heart quaked and her world fell apart.

  “We have to decide what to do,” he said. “We can’t stay here.”

  She was unprepared to think about such immediate practical problems as staying alive. “What do you want to do?”

  He twirled a lock of her hair between thumb and forefinger into a loose ringlet. “I’ve been thinking about it all morning. I don’t want to be a fugitive. I had other plans for my life. I like being Davy McCloud. I’ve invested a lot of energy in that persona, and I don’t want to be cut off from my brothers, either. But if you want to run, I won’t leave you.”

  He took her breath away. She gazed at him, wet-eyed, and swallowed. “I can’t run anymore,” she said. “I’m run into the ground.”

  “OK, then. I’m going back to where it all started. To San Cataldo.” He stroked her cheekbone with his fingertip. “I’ll start digging. Shake trees, turn over rocks, try to figure out who did this to you and what the hell they want. When somebody gets nervous and reacts, I’ll have a place to start. That’s my hope.”

  “What do you mean, I?” she said. “It’s we, Davy, not I.”

  He shook his head. “You’ll stay with Seth and Raine up at Stone Island. It’s only accessible by boat. Bristling with Seth’s spywear. You’ll be safer there than anywhere else.”

  She laughed in his face. “Right. Like I want to sit around in some island fortress while you’re out mucking around with killers.”

  “I can kill, too, if I have to,” he said. “I’m not an easy target.”

  “Ouch, Davy.” She shuddered. “That’s not comforting.”

  “You know me. Comfort’s not my strong point.” He studied her face. “Does it freak you out? That I can kill?”

  She shook her head. “It’s just that I’ve always lived in a different world, where that kind of danger and violence wasn’t real,” she said. “And you’ve always lived in a world where it is. It’s discombobulating.”

  “There’s only one world,” he said. “It’s violent and dangerous. Always has been. Anyone who thinks it isn’t is just fooling himself.”

  “My, aren’t we cheerful and positive this morning,” she murmured. “I’m sorry if it makes you nervous, but I’m coming, too.”

  He shook his head. “Bad idea.”

  “It’s not your decision,” she told him.

  His face went hard with anger, and she braced herself against the elemental force of it. “The hell it’s not. You’d complicate everything, if I have to constantly worry about you.”

  “You’re under no obligation to do anything of the kind.”

  “That is such a crock of self-serving, manipulative bullshit—”

  “I’m not going to cower on an island worrying about you while you’re out there investigating my problems!”

  “Didn’t you hear what Gomez said last night?” His voice had taken on a vicious edge. “They’re my problems too, babe.”

  “Yeah, well, they were my problems first. Nyah-nyahnyah. Do whatever you have to do, but I’m going back to San Cataldo.”

  Davy rolled over on top of her. “Margot. It’s not going to happen. Get it through your head.”

  “Do not bark orders at me in that tone of voice, Davy McCloud.”

  “What tone of voice?” he snarled.

  “The military sounding one,” she said. “I will not say ‘sir, yes sir,’ after everything you say. So don’t even try it.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Tone of voice is subjective. Another way for women to whip themselves into a frenzy over insignificant issues.”

  She shoved him until he rolled off. “Welcome to Planet Female,” she said sweetly. “Enjoy your stay. The first stop on our tour will be Insignificant Issues. Please open your guidebooks to page 317.”

  He clapped his hand over his eyes. “Oh, God, why me?”

  “Are you wondering if having wild crazy sex all night long is worth this kind of abuse?”

  A dimple glimmered in his cheek. “How’d you know that?”

  “I know how men’s minds work,” she said. “Men are predictable.”

  He glared at her. “I am not predictable.”

  “You are insofar as you are a man,” she said. “Women study men a lot more than men study women. Sad, but true.”

  “I’m not going to debate that with you. That stinks of a trap.” He pounced, pinning her down, and this time there was no dislodging him. His erection pressed hard against her belly. “Now, if we were to have wild crazy morning sex, I’d be convinced that it’s worth the abuse.”

  “You think you’re so slick,” she said. “You think you can distract me? You think it’s that easy to persuade me to let you go off alone—”

  “We will discuss that later.” Davy’s voice was steely, but his skilful mouth licked and nibbled the tendons of her neck until she quivered.

  “You’re doing it again,” she warned. “That military tone. I won’t have it.” She started tickling him.

  He clamped her arms closed, trapping her in a breathlessly tight embrace. “And you’re challenging me. You get off on that, don’t you? Provoking me, making me lose it. You love that.” He rolled a condom deftly onto himself that he’d pulled out of nowhere, trapped her wrists and pinned them over her head. “I’ve studied you, too, Margot. I know what you want in bed. And I can give it to you.”

  “Macho, arrogant…” Her voice trailed into a choked gasp as he slid his penis tenderly up and down her labia. “I’ll make you pay.”

  “Yeah, you do that, sweetheart. Have at me. I can’t wait.”

  He took himself in hand and slid inside her. After all their passionate love play the night before, she was ultrasensitive, but soft enough so that he entered in one long, slick delicious glide that made them both sigh with delight. It started out playfully rough, her arms pinned, his teeth set against her throat while his hips surged.

  She writhed and tossed in mock struggle, but they couldn’t keep that up for long. The pleasure was too sweet, the feelings between them too strong. Clear and bright, lit up from inside, like his beautiful eyes.

  Soon they were clinging to each other as they rocked together. Davy angled himself against her expertly, pressing his surging hips against the yearning ache of her clitoris, slow and steady and relentless, until the warmth crested, and overflowed. She dissolved around him.

  When she opened her eyes, he was still rocking tenderly inside her, pushing damp hair off her face. “You’re going to Stone Island.”

  She gazed up at him. “No,” she said. “You can’t control me with sex. I’m not putting my fate in someone else’s hands. Not anymore.”

  His face tightened. “Goddamnit, Margot—”

  “Please, Davy. Not now,” she pleaded. She reached up to caress his face. “It’s so sweet. So perfect. Let’s have this fight later.”

  He pulled out of her body and rolled her onto her stomach, winding his fingers into her hair. He pressed his face against her neck, and drove into her from behind. She whimpered with pleasure at each savage, passionate lunge. He exploded with a cry almost like a snarl.

  He lifted himself off her trembling body. She reached out t
o touch him, but he pulled away from her and slid off the bed, taking off the condom. The magical tenderness had vanished behind a cold mask.

  “Davy. Please. Don’t be—”

  “We’ll talk about it after we eat,” he said. “Get yourself ready.”

  Cooking while angry was a messy, dangerous business. He was so distracted, he almost burned the ham that was browning in the skillet while the pancakes rose on the griddle. He was too busy contemplating strategies for convincing her to go to Stone Island to keep it all together.

  Or failing that, coercing her. Whatever the fuck it took.

  She ventured down the stairs, damp and sweet smelling from her bath, and stared at the table. “Wow. You never cut corners, do you?”

  “Blackberry jam or raspberry for your pancakes?”

  “Um…raspberry, I guess.”

  They ate in almost complete silence, washing the food down with coffee sweetened with a can of condensed milk he’d found in the cupboard. She kept shooting him nervous glances, like she wanted to talk, but he refused to meet her eyes. He didn’t trust his own temper.

  Adrenaline shot through him at the sound of a car. He leaped to his feet, gun in hand, and twitched the curtain aside. A black Chevy Avalanche, and a white Taurus. He was so relieved, his knees wobbled.

  “Who is it?” Margot asked.

  “Seth,” he said. “And another car. That’s Miles driving.”

  He tucked his gun into the back of his jeans and walked out the kitchen door. Margot followed him out, barefoot.

  He knew she had nothing else to wear, but her clingy slip bothered him. She looked like a woman who’d been passionately fucked all night long. Flushed lips, wild hair, lush cleavage, nipples poking through the clingy fabric. Jesus. He would have wrapped her in his shirt, if Seth hadn’t already been getting out of his truck.

  Seth’s dark gaze raked over Davy’s body, lingering on his scratched face. “Everything mellow up here last night?”

  Davy grunted. “More or less. I found out last night that I’m a murder suspect. Our stalker buddy beat a guy to death and planted a whiskey bottle with my prints on it at the scene a couple days ago.”

  “Fuck.” Seth’s jaw tightened. “That’s bad.”

  “Yeah,” Davy agreed dourly. “Big bummer. How was last night?”

  “Long and boring. Sean and I could both have had a lot more fun in our respective hotel rooms, but whatever. We love you, man.” He held out a plastic bag to Margot. “Here’s your stuff. Sean collected it this morning. He’s babysitting the lingering bridesmaids, but I don’t think they’re gonna leave until he does. He’s keeping an eye on Mikey.”

  She took the bag. “Thank you. I really needed my clothes.”

  Davy turned to greet Miles, who was crunching morosely through the gravel, head down. “Hey, Miles. I didn’t know you had new wheels.”

  “He doesn’t. Those are your new wheels,” Seth said. “Or to be more precise, those are Michael Evan’s new wheels. Remember when I told you I’d grown you an alternate identity? And you gave me a lot of high and mighty moralistic attitude about working inside the system?”

  “Those weren’t my exact words, but I do remember the incident.”

  “I was figuring you might have changed your mind,” Seth said. “Snakey might have tagged your car. I would have, if I were him. And if the police are after you…” He dug into his pocket, pulled out a wallet, and tossed. Davy caught it one-handed. “License, credit cards, video clubs, library card, Social Security number. Solid credit history. Michael Evan is a mellow, crunchy kind of guy. Votes Democrat. Member of the Sierra Club. Donates to UNICEF. You’ll like him. The rental car info is under the visor. Knock yourself out, dude.”

  Davy flipped through the wallet. “Thanks,” he said. “I think you just saved my ass. Come in and have some coffee. You want breakfast?”

  “Nah,” Seth said, as they trooped into the kitchen. “I stuffed myself at the resort buffet, and Miles is on the love diet.”

  Miles flung the rental car keys onto the table. “Am not,” he mumbled. “I just don’t feel like eating, that’s all.”

  “You should’ve kept Miles out of this,” Davy said to Seth. “It’s getting dangerous.”

  “I am a goddamn adult, and can goddamn well decide for myself what I get involved in.”

  Davy was startled at the savage edge in Miles’s voice. “Uh…OK.”

  “I have a favor to ask of you, Miles,” Margot said. “About Mikey. I have to do some traveling, and I can’t take—”

  “You’re not going with me to San Cataldo,” Davy cut in.

  Margot’s chin went up. She continued without looking at him.

  “…and I wonder if you could dogsit for me. Mikey likes you.”

  Miles folded his arms over his chest. He shot a cool glance at Davy. “Free kung fu and karate lessons for one year,” he said. “Use of the dojo for practice and weight training whenever I feel like it.”

  “Jesus, Miles,” Davy muttered.

  “Private coaching in kung fu forms. Once a week. For one year.”

  Seth whistled. “Whoa. Did you take a cynical pill? Or are you just hanging out too much with the likes of us?”

  “I’m through being the chump asshole who gets walked on by everybody.” Miles’s voice was very hard. “I’m getting a clue. Finally.”

  “Is this about Cindy?” Davy asked warily.

  Miles shook his head. “No way. This is about me having better things to do than obsess over a brainless piece of fluff.”

  Davy and Seth exchanged telling glances. “About time he woke up,” Seth murmured. “About your road trip. Want reinforcements?”

  Davy hesitated. “I don’t want you guys implicated. And besides, I was going to ask you if Margot could stay up at—”

  “Thanks, but Margot has other plans,” Margot broke in.

  “We’re working out the details,” Davy said, through clenched teeth. “And a man and a woman attract less attention than a group.”

  Seth eyed Margot’s clingy slip with approval. “Depends on the woman. If you want to fly under the radar, I recommend a baggy T-shirt and some uglifying glasses for your girlfriend.”

  Davy’s jaw began to ache. “You can stop ogling her anytime now.”

  Seth’s teeth flashed white against his dark skin. “Whoa! Mr. Cool is getting jealous and territorial. It must be love.”

  Davy’s savage irritation edged higher. He turned to Margot. “How about you take that bag upstairs and make yourself decent?”

  Margot’s cheeks flared crimson. She snatched up the bag and stalked towards the stairs, head very high.

  Davy would have felt like an asshole even without the uncomfortable glances Miles and Seth gave each other.

  “Uh…wow,” Seth said. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

  Davy had nothing to say for himself. He was suffocating in here. He tossed back the rest of his coffee and stomped out the back door.

  The phone started ringing while Margot was in the bedroom, lacing up her high-tops. It rang and rang. She hesitated, and ran to the window. Davy was out in the meadow, talking to Miles and Seth, far enough away that even if she called him to the phone, he would never make it in time. She was being silly. Now was not a time to miss an important call. The worst that might happen was an uncomfortable conversation with one of Davy’s ex-girlfriends. She could survive that.

  She ran down the stairs and grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

  “Hey, is this Margot? It’s Sean. Where’s Davy?”

  She sighed in relief. “He’s outside with Seth and Miles. He didn’t hear the phone. Want me to call him in for you?”

  “No, I can tell you. Nick called, Connor’s FBI buddy. He’s been trying Davy’s cell all morning but the mountain house never gets cell phone reception, so he called me. He found someone to do prints on your snake thingie.”

  “And?” she said eagerly. “Did he find a match?”

  “Sure, but n
ot a helpful one. There was only one good latent print, and the print examiner said that the only potential hit she found was Davy.”

  Her hand tightened on the phone. “Davy’s?” she said, bewildered.

  “Yep. All us poor schmucks crazy enough to join our glorious armed forces have been printed. Keeps us honest, I guess. Sorry I don’t have more useful news for you. I’m gonna give Davy a hard time for putting his oily paws all over the evidence like some geek amateur.”

  Margot didn’t know what she said to end the conversation. She might have hung up in Sean’s face for all she knew. She stood there, paralyzed, unwilling to follow this thread of reasoning all the way down to the dark place where it led. It didn’t matter. It was dragging her.

  Davy had never touched that necklace. She ran through every moment she’d spent with him. She’d never taken the thing from the place where it lay buried among her hairpins, clips and scrunchies.

  He had been in her house three times. Always with her. The first time he’d ever even seen the snake necklace was when he’d seen it hanging from her wind chimes, and he’d made a big point of not touching it then. Which meant that—no. He couldn’t be. Not Davy.

  But why go to the trouble of getting someone to run prints on the necklace if he knew that his own were on it?

  Because he had fully expected to field this call himself, a cool voice in her head said. Nick had tried Davy’s cell phone. This call had slipped by him by chance. No one was perfect. Not even Davy McCloud.

  A cold, dense feeling solidified in her gut, weighing her down until she doubled over, almost crouched on the ground. Panting around the cramp of pain. And fear. How incredibly stupid. A little tenderness and attention from a man, and she fell. Plop. Like an overripe fruit.

  It wasn’t possible. She wasn’t going there. Anywhere else. Not there. The recent events of her life cataloged themselves mercilessly in chronological order. She’d started teaching at Women’s Wellness three weeks ago. The rose petals started two weeks ago. The burglary was a week ago. The dead dog six days ago.