by Cara Summers
The creak of a floorboard interrupted her thoughts. Sierra strained to listen. She was almost positive that the noise hadn’t come from inside the apartment. And she hadn’t moved.
She heard it again. This time she could definitely pinpoint its location. The porch. At two in the morning, there shouldn’t be anyone on her front porch. Her neighbor seldom had visitors even when she was in town. And she wasn’t.
There was another noise—a quiet, tinny sound of metal against metal.
Someone was definitely on the front porch and that person wasn’t ringing the doorbell. Acting on instinct, she stuffed the note card back in her bag, then leaned down and pulled the night-light out of the outlet. Quietly, she let herself into her apartment and locked and bolted the door. Ryder strode from her office as she turned.
“Someone’s trying to get in the front door,” she said.
Ryder didn’t even blink. “I didn’t see a back way out. There isn’t one?”
“No.”
Taking her arm, he urged her toward the bedroom. As she watched him raise the window and deal with the screen, the nerves in her stomach transformed into an icy ball of fear. She knew what he was going to do. Directly below the window, the roof sloped sharply, and there was a twenty-foot drop to the side of the house.
Ryder had swung one leg over the sill when he turned to her. “Tell me you’re not afraid of heights.”
She drew in a breath and let it out. “I’m not afraid of heights.”
“You’re lying through your teeth, Doc. But we can’t stay here. I don’t know how many there are or what kind of fire power they have. Some battles, you just have to retreat from and fight again the next day.”
Sierra moistened her lips. “Right.”
He climbed out onto the roof, and with one hand gripping the sill, he extended the other one to her.
“If you could just lay it out in steps for me, I think I can do it.”
“Steps?”
She nodded, knowing that he was going to give her the you-must-be-an-alien look.
Instead, he said, “Step one, give me your hand.”
She put her hand in his and swung one leg over the window ledge. The moment her foot touched the roof, a shingle broke free and they both listened as it slid off the edge and hit the ground below. Sierra tried very hard to suppress the image of herself doing the same and instead concentrated on breathing in and out.
“I don’t think the step-by-step thing is going to work,” Ryder said, gripping her hand tightly. “In cases like this when I’m being chased by men with guns, I operate pretty much on instinct and intuition. So let’s try this.”
The steady sound of his voice was soothing her.
“Have you ever played Follow the Leader?”
“No.”
“It’s a simple game,” he said easily. “You just do exactly what I do. First you’re going to sit down on the roof just like I’m doing.”
Gripping his hand tightly, Sierra drew her other leg over the ledge and sat down beside him.
“Good job. Now we’re going to just inch down the slope on our butts. Got it?”
She didn’t say a word. But with his help, she managed to make it down the incline until her feet were propped against the gutter.
“Now, I’m going to go first.” He released her hand, then twisted onto his stomach and lowered his feet over the side. “Watch and do exactly what I do.” Balancing his weight on his forearms, he began to inch his body backwards. “The trick is to get as far off the roof as you can before you drop. That way it’s a shorter fall. You’ve got to appreciate the logic of that, Doc.”
“This isn’t logical.” Sierra could barely recognize her own voice, it was so tight with fear. “I’m not going to be able to jump.”
“Okay, forget logic. Just push everything else out of your mind and think of this. Those bastards kidnapped Mark Anderson and shot at you. Are you going to let them win?”
A second later he disappeared over the side of the roof.
Wood splintered as her apartment door crashed open. Fear lodged once again in her throat and iced her veins. But this time it pushed her into action. Twisting onto her stomach, she concentrated on doing exactly what Ryder had done, letting gravity pull her backward. A second later, she was hanging by her hands from the gutter.
“Trust me, Doc. I’ll catch you.”
His voice was only a hoarse whisper, but it was enough. Closing her eyes, she said a quick, silent prayer and dropped. Arms clamped around her and they both fell on the grass. An instant later, Ryder was on his feet, pulling her with him.
“Is there an alley?”
“That way.” She pointed with her free hand.
The first bullet ricocheted off the drain pipe of the garage as they tore through the gate. They ran then, but not to the end of the alley as she’d expected. Instead, Ryder pulled her into a yard about three doors down from her house. They raced across the grass and around the side of the house. She was struggling to suck in air when he dragged her behind one of the large, thick bushes that bordered the front of the house. Before she could blink, he pushed her down, and then sat in front of her so that his body pressed hers into the brick wall of the house.
It was only then that she fully realized she was out of breath. Automatically, she thought of her inhaler. Maybe she needed it after all, but her bag was trapped against the wall. When she tried to wiggle it free, Ryder turned his head and spoke in a low voice. “We have to be perfectly still.”
“Why? What are we doing here?”
“Hiding in the bushes.”
“I got that. But I thought that the plan was to run away and live to fight another day.”
“Still is. But I want to see what they’re doing. From what I can see they’ve left one man stationed at the front of your place. There’s no sign of the ones who broke through the door. They’re either searching the apartment or they’ve come after us.”
She could see that his lips were moving, but his words had become no more than a buzz in her ears. The sensations that came from being near him had sneaked up on her. She’d gradually become aware of the hardness of his body and the torrid, liquid heat that was flowing from him to her. The feelings were so vivid. She could feel the press of each one of his fingers on her shoulder. His scent was just as she’d remembered it, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her lips each time he drew in air and expelled it. Desire was winding tight inside of her.
“We won’t have to wait much longer,” he whispered.
Suddenly, she didn’t want to wait. It seemed she’d been waiting all of her life.
“I want to kiss you.”
“Sierra…”
“I have to kiss you.” She was shocked when the words slipped out of her mouth. But it was nothing less than the truth. There was such an ache building inside of her, sharp and compelling. “I can’t wait.” She didn’t care where they were or who was after them; she simply had to feel that mouth pressed against hers again. Tightening her grip on his shoulder, she tried to draw him closer.
“We can’t make any noise,” he warned.
Sierra wasn’t sure if Ryder closed the distance between them or she did. All she was aware of was the brush of his lips against hers. This wasn’t the hard pressure she’d experienced before. His mouth was so gentle, so teasing. The ache inside her grew stronger.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he whispered, and she could feel his breath move into her. And all the while his mouth continued to move softly over hers, as if he couldn’t stop himself. The possibility thrilled her, but it wasn’t enough, not nearly. She shifted just a little to ease the awkwardness of their positions.
“Shhh.”
This time, she raised her hand to his cheek, and she was the one who closed the distance. At last. The fit of his lips to hers was just as perfect as she’d remembered, his flavor just as unique. Beneath her hand, she felt the sharp line of his cheekbone, the strength of his jaw. Yes, she thought as the
sensations she’d been imagining streamed through her. Oh, yes. If she had any doubts that this was the man she wanted, they streamed away.
SHE WAS DRIVING him crazy, he thought as he shifted his position slightly and took the kiss deeper. He had no business messing around with her when they hadn’t made their escape yet. But he didn’t seem to have control of himself where she was concerned. When she’d said she had to kiss him, he hadn’t been able to refuse. And now, with the taste of her surrender streaming through him, he had even less choice.
He wanted his hands on her, but there was no way he could do that. Not here, not now. Even more, he wanted her hands on him. The feel of that soft palm against his cheek had him imagining those clever hands of hers all over him.
Pleasure turned sharp and twisted. He had to put a stop to this now before—
A rustle in the bushes nearby had him slipping a hand behind her neck as he drew away. He said nothing and willed her to do the same.
Seconds ticked by as neither of them moved. There was another rustle, and this time Ryder spotted the squirrel under the lowest branch of a nearby bush. For a moment, they merely looked at one another, and then the squirrel turned and raced away.
“A squirrel,” he whispered as he once more turned to peer through the bushes. The next sound he heard wasn’t a squirrel. It was footsteps, and they were close.
He gripped the hand that she’d left on his shoulder and turned his head slightly.
“Ever play Statues, doc?” he asked very softly.
“No,” she whispered.
“Piece of cake. Just freeze until I tell you it’s safe.”
SIERRA WENT stock still and listened hard. At first she heard only the usual night-time noises—the chirp of insects, a dog barking some distance away. Then, closer, she heard the crunch of gravel. Every muscle in her body tightened as the sound grew louder. Whoever it was had followed the same route they had. Had he been close enough to see them duck into the bushes?
She held her breath, comforted somewhat when Ryder’s hand tightened on hers. Through the bushes, she could just make out a beam of light as it played itself over the shrubs. There was one moment when it seemed to linger on the bush they were hiding behind, but then it moved on. She didn’t let out the breath she was holding until she heard the sound of footsteps on the sidewalk ten yards away. The moment the steps faded, Ryder squeezed her hand again and whispered, “The good news is that they’re piling into the van.”
“And the bad news?” Sierra asked.
“There’s a lot of it. For starters, there are three of them. One of them just came down the front steps. So he stayed in the apartment most likely to search for something while the other one followed us.”
“What were they searching for?” Sierra asked.
“Good question. Ramsey told me that they’d trashed Mark Anderson’s apartment. Maybe they think he gave you something. The timing of their arrival makes me think they knew when you’d be coming back here. There’s a good chance there’s an informant down where your sister works.”
“And?”
“If that doesn’t worry you, it should.”
“Everything worries me. I’ll worry more if I think you’re holding something back.”
“If they have an informant on the police force, then chances are some very powerful people could be involved in this.”
“So what’s the next part of your plan?”
He turned then and kissed her hard. “Just in case I haven’t mentioned it, you’re all right, Doc.”
“Thanks.” The kiss hadn’t been long this time, and it had been kind of…friendly. But her lips were vibrating again.
“As for my plan—I don’t have it all mapped out yet. The way I figure it, they’re going to canvas the neighborhood for a while in the van, widening their area with each sweep. The final bad news is that between our position right now and my car, there’s P Street—which is dead at this time of the night. We’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”
“Why don’t we take my car?”
Ryder stared at her. “You have a car? I didn’t see it when we ran past the garage.”
“My neighbor pays extra to park there when she’s in town. I use the street.”
“You know, if you ever decide to give up the halls of academia, I could use someone like you at Kane Management.” The sound of a car’s motor had him turning toward the street again. Through the bushes, Sierra watched the dark-colored van make its way up the street.
When it turned the corner, Ryder pulled her up and drew her out of the bushes. “It’s safe to make a run for it. Lead on, Dr. Gibbs.”
When they reached the car, he took her keys and opened the passenger door. “Crouch on the floor and keep your head down.”
She waited until he’d climbed behind the wheel and maneuvered the car out of the parking space. Then she said, “What’s next?”
“We’re getting the heck out of here.”
7
SIERRA WOKE SLOWLY to the smell of coffee. Odd, she never smelled coffee when she woke up. Tasks in the kitchen weren’t one of her priorities, so in the mornings she made do with instant. As she burrowed deeper into the pillow, trying to snatch that last few minutes of sleep before she had to face the day, something else struck her as odd. She could have sworn that the bed was swaying slightly—almost as if it were a cradle that was being rocked.
Then it came back to her in a flash. She was on Ryder’s houseboat on the Chesapeake Bay. He’d explained where they were going before she’d fallen asleep in the car. Exhaustion had hit her hard, probably due to the adrenaline rushes she’d experienced earlier in the evening. She vaguely remembered Ryder carrying her to the cabin, tucking her beneath the covers, and telling her that they’d talk in the morning.
Sitting up, she surveyed the room. There was a masculine feel to it—pine furniture with Shaker lines, a quilt in a brown-and-gold pattern. A closet door stood slightly ajar and she saw men’s clothes hanging neatly inside.
Through the window, she saw the sun shooting bright sparks off an expanse of water, and the scent of coffee was coming from a thermal pot that sat on the nightstand next to the bed. Groping for it, she poured herself a cup and took a sip in the hopes that caffeine would clear the cobwebs out of her brain.
She took another swallow of the coffee. The scent in the room—something intensely male—was Ryder’s. She would have recognized it anywhere. So this must be his room.
Where was he?
And why hadn’t he stayed with her last night? A little voice nagged.
He wanted her. Surely she couldn’t have mistaken the signs. Hadn’t he told her that he did? And when she’d kissed him while they were hiding in the bushes, it had been just as intense, just as arousing as the first kiss they’d shared. Merely thinking about the way he’d made her feel was enough to start clouding her mind all over again.
So why hadn’t he stayed with her last night? Had he changed his mind?
She took another swallow of coffee and set the cup on the bedside table. If he had changed his mind, what was she going to do about it? The old Sierra would have accepted his decision and gone back to her research and her books and her movies.
But she wasn’t that person anymore. She wasn’t sure who she was. Not Jane Eyre certainly. She’d whapped a man in the face with her canvas bag and she’d jumped off a roof. Buffy would have been proud of her. And she hadn’t had to use her inhaler once. She’d thought about it in the bushes, but she’d kissed Ryder instead.
The memories made her smile. Whoever she was, Sierra Gibbs was definitely off the sidelines. And she was involved in an exciting adventure with a man who made her want to forget the lists she’d always run her life by. The whole thing scared her—and that meant that the old Sierra wasn’t entirely gone. But she was thrilled, too, and she wasn’t about to turn back.
She drew in a deep breath. If Ryder Kane had changed his mind about wanting her and making love to her, she’d just have to figure
out a way to make him change it back.
Tossing the quilt off herself, she noted that she was still dressed. Her shoes were tucked neatly by the end of the bed, and right next to them was her canvas bag.
A glance at her watch told her that it was ten o’clock. Relief streamed through her. She hadn’t slept that long. All she had to do was find Ryder and have that talk.
After fortifying herself with another swallow of coffee, she grabbed her canvas bag and fished in its depths for her comb as she made her way to the bathroom. But it wasn’t her comb that her fingers closed around. It was a key.
She pulled it out and cupped it in the palm of her hand. It wasn’t hers. She’d given her keys to Ryder. And this one had a plastic grip and a number stamped on it that suggested it belonged to a storage locker.
Her heart skipped a beat, and then kicked into high gear. Did it belong to Mark Anderson? Could it have fallen out of the book he’d left with her?
After hurrying into the bathroom, she did her best to make herself presentable. Then she headed to the door, opened it, and climbed up a short flight of stairs. She had to find Ryder.
She spotted them immediately—Ryder and another man. The stranger was wearing cut-off shorts and T-shirt, and he had a fishing pole in his hands. His blond hair was long enough that he’d gathered it into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck, and though he looked very laid back in his attire, he projected the same aura of competence that Sierra had sensed from the very beginning with Ryder. Neither of the men noticed her as she quietly climbed the rest of the stairs to the deck.
Ryder was wearing black jeans and a black T-shirt and he was carrying a leather briefcase.
“Hopefully, I’ll be back this evening,” Ryder said. “I don’t expect any trouble. No one followed us here, and there’s no record anywhere that I own this houseboat.”
