by Nichols, A
“I’m going to the restroom, Jordan.” He nodded. She left quickly and hailed a cab outside the hotel. Their relationship was finished, and the cards in play. She would go to the closest town, get cash and a rental and be gone. She had a couple of days before her next speech. She needed to get away from this place before she could do that.
Jordan waited for thirty minutes, but he hadn’t seen Madison again. She had gone to the ladies room, and he figured that someone had stopped her on the way out to talk. He caught Myrna and asked her to check on Madison. She came out and told him that Madison wasn’t in the room. Damn. Had she been taken? He alerted his men and pulled out his phone, only to read a cryptic message from her.
Thanks for the illusion of belief. I am safe, and I no longer need your services. My final check can be found on your desk.
What the hell! He called for his car and made a dash for the house, but he already knew she wouldn’t be there. He ran up the porch steps to find the front door unlocked. Racing to the bedroom, he found her things gone, except for the outfits he had gotten her. He traced his steps back to the conversation with David; she must have overheard him. He had stabbed her pretty effectively with his comments, but why would she go? Didn’t she know she wasn’t safe? A check lay on his desk in his office; she had formally ended the relationship. Like hell she would.
Jordan spent the rest of the night trying to find her, but there were just too many directions she could take. Hell, maybe she had even had somebody pick her up. His men had found and talked with the cab driver that had brought her home. All the cars were still in the garage, so she had to have left on foot initially. Shit. She was out there, and it was his fault—once again, he had failed to protect.
Madison continued walking down the small rural road, hoping that a car would pick her up. Hitchhiking was not as safe as it once was, and the night was very dark. She had put hair color in her hair, shampooing it in quickly and dressed in jeans, looking more like a boy than a woman: she needed time. She had gotten one ride, and now was looking for another. A trucker coming down the road saw her huddled form and rolled to a stop; there was a fine mist in the air, and she was very wet. She walked to the door as the window came down. “Where you going, boy?”
“To the next town, sir.”
“Get in.”
Madison climbed up into the cab, and the truck rolled on. “You shouldn’t be out on this back road. It’s not safe for you.”
“I know.” She would offer him nothing.
“You running away from home?”
Madison murmured with a sad smile, “Meeting a friend.”
The trucker said little else, offering her a pack of crackers that lay on his console. “I got a kid about your age. I wouldn’t want him out on a dark night.”
Her mind showed her the scenario that the driver was considering. “Please don’t turn me over to the authorities.” She knew that’s what he intended to do.
He smiled at her. “OK,” but she knew he would. They stopped at a rest stop two hours later, and she disappeared into the night again as soon as she saw the trucker going to order something to eat; she took only a hot cup of coffee from the self-pay machine. She would bed down in the woods for the remainder of the night. She hoped she didn’t upset the driver too much.
Jordan was back home to grab a shower by early morning; he changed his clothes. He hadn’t slept, and he had consumed way too much coffee. There was no sign of her. He had tracked her cell phone only to find that it had been discarded in a waste bin on Route 75; but it did give him an indication of her direction. He would collect it to see what was on it. He drove down that road, his mind all over the place. Her next speaking engagement was in Virginia; he wondered if that’s where she was going.
He had contacted that group discreetly, talking about her safety and security; they had not heard from her. He had two days to find her. Now, which way would she go? If she rented a car, he would know; the alert had already gone out citing the theft of her credit card, and she would need one to rent the car. The only question was whether he could get to her before she ran again. Shit. She was a resourceful little thing, and she seemed to have little fear. He pulled up to the side of the road to pick up the discarded phone; it lay in a trashcan. He took the time to access her messages. Her phone had fifteen calls on it from him alone. But he was stunned by the texts she had received threatening her life, promising awful things if she didn’t cooperate, none of them signed. He would call in a team to follow up on each and everyone, hoping to trace the hatred to a single group or person.
Come on, Witch! Where in the hell are you? He drove slowly down the road, his eyes looking for her.
Madison was bedded down in the woods along the side of the truck stop on Route 75. She was tired and despondent, grappling with his denial of her, tears pricking her eyes. She held the warm cup of coffee and pushed her tired body up against a tree. It had turned a bit colder in the woods, and she rummaged in her pack for a sweatshirt, pulling it over her darkened hair. No one would remember a sorry-looking waif. She hoped the dye shampooed out as it said on the box, but then she laughed. Oh God. Wouldn’t that be a trip—showing up at her next venue without her signature red hair? Maybe she could catch a bus for the rest of the trip as soon as she hit somewhere that had houses and businesses. She had money on her and had left a large sum for her trucker in the console of the cab.
She sensed that Jordan was on the prowl, looking for her, but with her emotions scattered, she couldn’t tell how far away he was. It didn’t matter; he was probably glad to be rid of her. Once he knew she was safe, he would let her go. She touched her stomach lovingly. She carried his child; of course, he didn’t believe it yet. Would he give the baby up so easily? Remembering Jordan’s own lost child, she thought not. She would fix that by never telling him that the baby had been born lest he come to collect what was his.
Jordan pulled in the rest stop to grab more coffee and to make some inquiries about whether anyone had seen a young woman. As he talked to the clerk, a truck driver spoke up beside him. “Hey, I brought a young kid here about an hour ago. I think he was running away from home.”
“Can you describe him?”
“Black, ugly greasy hair, uncombed, with jeans and a T-shirt that was way too big. He said he would call home as soon as he got to his friend’s place. He had a backpack.”
“What color was the backpack?’’
The man laughed. “Now that I think of it, it was purple, not at all the color for a guy.”
Bingo! It was her color, and she had dyed her hair. “Where did she go?”
“I went to order some food while she got some coffee, and when I came back, she was gone. She couldn’t have gotten far.”
“Thank you.” Jordan threw some bills on the counter. “That’s for your help.” He walked out and surveyed the woods behind the rest stop. She would not be far. He thought she would try to pick up a ride as soon as it was light. He climbed back in the car and sat and waited, his body tense, watching the edge of the woods and trying to decide how to proceed if it was, indeed, her.
The sun had just come up over the horizon when he saw a tiny figure slip out of the woods; the purple backpack was a dead giveaway. He hoped that he had not made a mistake. The lone figure approached the store and went into the women’s restroom; he waited outside the door. When she came out, he grabbed her, muffling her mouth with his hand and pulling her out the side entrance before anyone could see them. She struggled and bit, but he was too strong for her, and he didn’t release her until he had pulled her into the woods. He didn’t want a run-in with the cops over this. He shook the tiny body; “Madison! Be still.”
At the sound of his low voice, all the fight went out of her. He waited until he was sure she wouldn’t scream and released her mouth. “Not a sound out of you until we get back in my car. Do you understand?” His voice was sharp and cutting. He tilted her head up to his and looked her over carefully. She was a mess, dirty and disheve
led, but she didn’t appear to be hurt. Thank God.
“I’m hungry, and I need more coffee.” He took her by the arm and pulled her into the rest stop. He kept a close eye on her, and his hand held her arm in a tight grip. He ordered the food and paid, and then he walked her to his black SUV, shoving her inside and locking the doors from the keypad. She didn’t look at him.
“I know I look bad, so don’t look at me,” she grumbled.
Jordan choked on his words. “It’s certainly not your color.” He handed her a hamburger and French fries and a hot coffee. She carefully peeled back the paper from around the sandwich and took a dainty bite. A French fry followed, then two, then three. Several more bites of sandwich filled her mouth. She probably hadn’t eaten since last night at the gala, and she had eaten very little there.
“I’m dirty.”
“I noticed,” he said dryly. He started the car and turned it towards the highway that would take them home. She sat huddled in the corner of the seat.
CHAPTER 11
It was late morning when he opened the door to his house and ushered her in. She hadn’t said two words to him on the entire trip, but she had finished her meal. He was not going to allow her to continue her silence.
“Go into the great room and sit down.” She hesitated, but only for an instant; she was somewhere else, removed from him, intentionally. He took her chin and turned her face towards his. “Enough of this. Eyes!”
She looked up at him, and her attention centered. “Why did you run?”
She looked down again unable to bear seeing him, as images of the two of them locked in a passionate embraces crowded her mind. He snapped her chin up again and said more patiently, “Eyes. On. Me.” Now he could see her anger beginning; her face tightening and if looks could kill, he would be dead. He saw the change. “That’s more like it.” Witch.
Madison’s voice was frigid. “You have no right to tell me what to do. You no longer work for ME, Mr. Lassiter. You can’t keep me here; I want to leave.”
“You will leave when I tell you that you can and not before.”
She chewed on her lip, calming herself. “Well, let’s get it done. What do you want?” Her icy disdain was back in full force.
“I want an explanation. I want to know where you go when you disappear into your own head, and I want to know what you’re hiding from me. I want to know why you ran from me.”
“You want”—her voice rose. “YOU WANT? Well, TOO BAD. I wanted, too, and I didn’t get. So now it’s your turn to want.” He tried to process what she said—what did she want that she didn’t get.
He tightened his lips and began a steady pacing back and forth in front of her willing himself not to touch her in anger. Taking a deep breath, he stopped and pulled her up from the couch, his voice a grouchy one. “Get that junk out of your hair, and get a bath. You have ten minutes, or I’ll be doing it for you, and I won’t be gentle.”
She squared her shoulders. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“You’re not afraid of anyone, and at some point in your life, that lack of fear may get you killed.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Do as I say.” She dragged her feet over towards the stairs. “NO!” Damn you. “You know where you are to go.” She glared at him, but she turned her steps toward the hallway and back to his bedroom suite. She had to pick her battles, and this was one she would not win. She knew that. He was barely under control; she couldn’t afford to set him off—again.
She turned on the taps to the tub and began to undress. Her dirty clothes landed in a pile on the floor. She heard him moving in the bedroom, and then he pushed open the bathroom door two inches and threw a long-sleeved T-shirt of his at her. Two towels followed. He closed the door with a slam. She had an awful headache; she sank down onto the floor, and she couldn’t help it; the tears started to come. She was back to where she started, alone again, an object of ridicule and scorn, and now pregnant. Well, she wasn’t exactly alone; there was the child to consider. She had to protect him at all costs.
Jordan stood outside the bathroom door. The soft, heart-breaking sobs he heard cut him to the quick, and before he could stop himself, he was in the bathroom. He sat down beside her on the floor, picking her up and cradling her in his arms, murmuring over and over to her that it would be all right. Still, she sobbed as if her heart would break, and the more he comforted her, the more she cried, her hands grasping at his shoulders as she wetted the entire front of his shirt.
He sat and held her, rocking her small body in his, his anger fleeing in the face of her despair. He stood with her in his arms, determined to help her finish undressing. When he was done, he eased her into the warm water. She looked like a broken, discarded toy. Jordan knelt by the tub and began to soap and rinse her scalp with gentleness, the dark dye running into the bath water; he washed her hair over and over, pouring more water over her head to rinse it clean. He repeated the action until the water running from it ran clear. She could feel her body relaxing as her tiredness swept in; he helped her up with an impartial touch from the blackened water in the tub and moved her into the shower. Clean, warm water flowed over her and washed the little remaining black from her red hair. She felt like a drowned rat both inside and out. His hands held her gently.
“I can finish,” she whispered. He sensed her need to do it by herself, and he closed the shower door as she soaped her body two more times and rinsed herself well. The tears continued to course slowly down her cheeks as she worked. He busied himself cleaning the tub, and then he left. Grabbing a large towel, she wrapped herself in it as she stepped from the shower and put another one on her head, rubbing it briskly.
She finally put on his T-shirt and towel dried her hair over and over with a number of towels. It was good to feel clean again. She looked in the mirror, and the red headed witch was back in all her glory, her lips soft from crying, eyes puffy with dark circles under them. She stepped outside the bathroom door only to find him waiting, leaning against the wall. He took her hand, pulling the last of her dying anger from her as he wound her into his arms, hugging her to him. “You were missed. Thank God you’re safe.”
He took her to the bed and put her under the covers, lying down on top of the bed spread, turning her body away from him and rubbing her shoulders and back evenly until her crying stopped and her breathing settled; she was exhausted. When he was sure she was fast asleep, he sat back in the chair in his room and watched her. His heart had finally settled into a normal rhythm. She was home; she hadn’t been hurt. He had no idea when he closed his eyes, the lost night catching up to him as well. They had so much to work out, but he too, slept.
He felt warmth penetrate his body as he fought to wake up. It seemed to radiate from his arm; he glanced at it only to find that the knife wound was almost healed. How had that happened? The doctor told him it would take months; his fingers skimmed lightly over the disappearing scar. Then his eyes turned to the soft blue ones that were watching him intently from the bed. “I see you are awake.” My witch.
She smiled tentatively. “I’m hungry.”
“I think I’ve heard that line before. What would you like?”
Her eyes turned impish, but she answered, “Whatever you want to make. I’m not particular.”
His heart lightened. “Use the bathroom and come out.” He got up, leaned over her and pulled her face up, kissing her cheek. He walked from the room shuddering at how he felt—complete. She made him feel complete, and he hadn’t felt that way in a long time.
Madison put on clean panties but kept his T-shirt wrapped around her, walking sheepishly into the kitchen, gathering placemats, silverware and coffee cups. She got the wine and dinner rolls. Jordan made steaks and salad, filling each plate and carrying it to the bar. The meal was a silent affair; Jordan watched her eat, savoring the steak, but noting the bug bites and scratches on her body from her impromptu trip; she continued to try to stop their itching. He took his plate to the sink, rinsed it, and pulled
an antiseptic cream from the cupboard.
He stood behind her stool and lifted her shirt, noting the scratches and bug bites on her body. He pulled her to her feet and smeared antiseptic cream on each and every one of them, moving down her legs in the back. “Time for the front, I think.” This time, Jordan couldn’t hide his grin. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“I’ll just bet you are,” she snidely replied, but the itch was going away.
She turned slowly, and he pulled her top up. His appreciative eyes followed his hand movement as her breasts came into sight. He remembered her body well. He drew in a deep breath and went to work coating each bite and scratch. “Think you’re done. Now, you talk, and I listen.” He stood in front of her looking at her, caging her against the counter. The silence grew awkward, but he didn’t help her out. He was obviously a patient man.
She looked over his shoulder, not wanting to meet his eyes. “You let me down when you told your friend that I didn’t know what I was talking about—the visions. You don’t know, Jordan, how accurate my visions can be.” Jordan tried to digest what she was saying, and the myth of the white witch came into his mind.
“So all of these people who are after you think you have predictive abilities through your visions? Am I reading this right? They think you are this white witch?”
Madison nodded. “I can’t always control it; it comes and goes, flashes here and there, strong sensations about people, a sense of upcoming events. But the players can change and so can the outcomes. That’s the tricky part, and that’s why I don’t say much about them.” She stopped to take a breath, and her eyes finally rose to meet his. “You are the only person in the world that I’ve told about my gift. The others are just speculating on my abilities and what they think they can do with them. I decided to become a public figure, making it far more difficult for anyone to take me, but the last year has been harrowing. They’re breathing down my neck and getting closer. I have healing powers, too, and these gifts of mine will be passed down to my child.”
