Lost in Deception (Lost series)

by DeVito, Anita

  Wet and cold as he was, his body was better built for rocks of this size. With a combination of cajoling, pushing, and pulling, she got him to the top. She ducked under his shoulder and dragged his arm around her. Taking what weight she could, they hobbled to the heated trailer. “Almost there. Ten more steps. You can do it. That’s right. Now, up the stairs. There’s only five.” He nearly went down, unable to lift his leg high enough to clear the top step. She swept her free arm under his knee and lifted his leg. “We’re there. Two more steps.”

  The door opened into a conference room. She set him in the nearest metal folding chair and hastily rummaged the workspace. In the adjacent room, she found the thermostat and cranked it to eighty. In the same room, she found a flannel shirt, a hooded sweatshirt, and three rain coats. Without permission or apology, she stripped the coat he wore and unbuttoned his shirt. “We need to get you out of here before that asshole comes back. Is that truck out there yours?”

  Tom nodded a heavy head. “Loaner.”

  “Where are the keys?”

  “P-pocket.” He reached for the discarded coat. She snatched it, shoved her hands into the zippered coat pockets. She came out with the keys, his wallet, his hotel key, and a dead cell phone.

  “We have to get you dry.” She used the flannel shirt as a towel across his chest and back. A thin red welt stretched from his upper right shoulder to his spine. The skin was intact, and he moved his shoulder without a problem. She did what she could to get him dry and dressed. He looked ridiculous but looks took a backseat to hypothermia. “I’m going to start the truck and get it warm. Just stay here.”

  Tom grabbed her arm before she could leave. “My computer. G-gone.” He pointed to the conference table that held only the drawings for the building.

  “The son of a bitch who pushed you hauled out an armload of equipment.”

  “My notebook. Cameras. H-had them with me.”

  “I’ll take a quick look for it but just a quick one. If the asshole didn’t take them, they’re probably in the lake.” She pried his fingers from her arm. “Just stay. I’ll be right back. I promise.”

  …

  Tom was numb. He never fully appreciated the meaning of that word. Numb. It was not only the absence of feeling, it was the absence of the will to feel. Or to move. He blinked, trying to get his little gray cells to fire on all cylinders. “She said I was p-pushed. What the h-hell?” He reached for the phone on the table. It took three tries to press the right numbers in the right order, but finally it rang.

  …

  Peach ran out of the trailer, tore open the door to the truck, started it, and blasted the heat. The wind gusted, reminding her that she was wet, cold, and tired herself. The water shoes she wore provided no protection from the uneven ground and debris. Time wasn’t on their side, and since she had copied the notebook and digital camera a few hours ago, she wasn’t wasting time on the cameras or notebook. The originals weren’t worth him freezing to death. She pulled the truck around so the passenger door was at the bottom of the stairs and then hurried back into the trailer. Tom was collapsed over the table. “Tomas. Tomas. Time to leave. Up.”

  He woke as she pulled his shoulders back. At her command, he braced his arms on the table and pushed himself up but fell back into the chair. A smaller man she would have had a chance to carry, but he was too long.

  “On your feet. Now.” She wrapped an arm around his waist and steered him out of the trailer. Driven by an overwhelming urge to get the hell out of there, she muscled him out the door and into the warm truck. “There’s a hospital close by.”

  “N-no. J-just take me to my h-hotel.”

  “Are you crazy? Someone takes a baseball bat to your head, you go to the hospital.”

  “N-not-t my head. Sh-shoulder. H-hotel.” He kept his eyes open on the short drive and began to shiver, a sign that heat was seeping into his wet body.

  “I knew you were stubborn,” she muttered as they tore out of the parking lot. She didn’t stop to close the gate. She didn’t give a damn about it. All that mattered was getting him dry and warm. Going for expedient, she valet parked the truck. The young man came out of the hotel as she raced around to the passenger door and opened it, catching Tom as he fell out. “I knew we should have gone to a hospital.”

  “J-just…get me…upstairs.” He took a lumbering step, his arms wrapped around her shoulders.

  “Is he okay, ma’am?” The valet quickly covered the short distance from the front doors, concern evident in his wide eyes and helpful hands. “He’s wet.”

  “He fell in the lake. I need to get him up to his room.”

  The valet took Tom’s other side, and together they walked him through the lobby. “Shouldn’t he be at a hospital?”

  “That’s what I said, but you know men.” She used her foot to press the “up” button on the panel. It took teamwork to get his uncoordinated body to the room. She felt ridiculous propping Tom against the doorframe while she settled with the valet but didn’t want to explain the room if he hadn’t cleaned it.

  “Come on, honey, almost there.” She opened the door to the aftermath. It was hard to believe that just the two of them had caused the apocalypse before her. “First things first. We need you warm.” She guided him to the toilet, sat him down, and then turned away to start the shower. “Let’s get you out of these clothes.”

  “That’s what you said last night.”

  She lifted her gaze away from the water pooling around the drain. With the urgency of the moment, she hadn’t thought this part through. She didn’t have the energy for a confrontation. She was cold, wet, and tired. She still had to retrieve the Jet Ski and, oh God, she was going to get wet again. If he had a problem with her being there, she’d leave. Simple.

  “I know you.” He leaned close, brushing her as he inhaled deeply. “I would know you anywhere.”

  She turned—slowly, calmly—and faced him. “What is it you think you know?”

  Tom smiled. His frozen lips felt about to shatter, but he couldn’t stop it. “I knew you weren’t a natural blond.” She laughed as he hoped she would. Slowly, because it was as fast as he could go, he lifted the Velcro that hid the zipper on the neck of her wet suit. He would know Catalina anywhere, anytime. He had her taste imprinted on his tongue, her feel an indelible memory.

  Her hand covered his, and she turned to him. Those beautifully vivid eyes shone like twin jewels, so pale they practically glowed. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m cold. I want to be skin to skin. Like last night.” With trembling fingers, he took the thick material and peeled it from her shoulders. He couldn’t stop the shaking, but he was feeling better, stronger, quicker witted. She withdrew reluctant arms, letting the top of the suit fall limply from her hips. He pulled her rigid body against him. He expected to feel her warmth, but he didn’t. “You’re as cold as I am. Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I’m fine. You’re the one who got hit over the head.” She stepped back, but his fingers held tight to the painted-on suit.

  “I told you, it’s my shoulder. Take this off.” He tugged it down another inch, but it was going to take work getting over the curve of her hips.

  Her gaze met his, and then she dropped her chin, shaking her head slowly. He felt sadness in her, something he hadn’t sensed the night before, and he didn’t understand it. She didn’t regret coming after him. It was something else. Finding the motivation to move, he stripped the wet suit off her legs. She stood in front of him in a floral-print bikini with a heavy rope of dark, braided hair over her shoulder and her arms banded around her stomach. “Get into the shower.”

  She shook her head. “You need to get warm and dry. Hypothermia is nothing to mess with.”

  He didn’t argue. It took all his energy to stand, lift her off her feet, and set her back down in the bathtub under the spray. She yelped as the water hit her, and she nearly fell. He caught her with one arm, the water searing his skin. He quickly lowered the tem
perature with his free hand. His movements were jerky and his fingers still hard to control, but it was getting better. He stripped the sweatshirt and then the pants and underwear. “You can lose the suit. I’ve already seen the show.”

  “I’m fine.” She started to climb out, and he suspected the tint in her cheeks was from more than the warm water.

  He climbed in, trapping her as he groaned from the instant relief the water brought. Warmth, feeling, and control seeped into his extremities as he held her. “No, you’re not. You’re freezing, just like me. Stay here for a little while.” He rested his head atop hers, half asleep, completely content. He knew he was alone in that sentiment. She held herself stiffly, and not from the cold. She had stood under this shower washing his back just hours ago. But this was different. His hands ran up and down her arms. “Then we’ll order some chicken soup from room service. Do you like chicken soup, Catalina?”

  She jumped like a scared cat. “I can’t stay.”

  “Just for a little while.” He used his most compelling voice, tempting her to stay, not demanding. He took that thick braid in his hand and untied the end. “Now it makes sense. Yesterday you didn’t want to get your hair wet. I thought it was one of those girl things. God, I had wanted to touch all of those golden waves.” He unwound the strands and turned her so the water ran down the length of it. The dark hair, heavy and wavy, belonged with her face and body. He began a slow, sensuous massage. Inch by inch, she melted. The tension in her face evaporated, and her mouth fell open as if the effort to keep it closed was too great. “This is so much better.” She swayed; he stepped closer. He leaned down and spoke in her ear. “I was working on a plan. To see you again. I was contemplating camping out in the hotel lobby to wait for you. But that wouldn’t have worked, would it?”

  She shook her head.

  “And your name isn’t Catalina Barco?”

  She lifted her thick black lashes and blinded him with the intensity of her gaze. “No.”

  He dipped his head and brushed his lips across her mouth. “Tell me your name.” He watched as some idea settled across her expressive face, and she tilted that beautiful, cocky chin to the side.

  She smiled, the dark, secretive one she’d used the night before. “What do you want it to be?”

  He shook his head, an answering smile settling in on his face. “You ruthlessly screwed my brains out last night, and then you save my life today. I want to know the name your mother calls you.”

  Her smiled faded, and she pulled away, stepping out of the shower. Something was wrong. She didn’t face him, as he expected, but shut him out. He didn’t like it. He turned off the water and followed. It had done the job, pulling him back from a bleak, cold place. He wasn’t a hundred percent yet. Still weak, shoulder throbbing, and with growing headache, he wasn’t in a mood to be dismissed.

  She took two thick towels from a rack, handed him one, and began to dry herself. “I do not think I would like to hear what she calls me coming from your mouth, Tomas. You like Catalina. Let her stay a while longer.”

  Back was her flourished accent, lighting a flash of temper through Tom. “I don’t want some damn character. I want the real you. The one who pulled me from the lake and stayed with me. What is her name? Tell me.” He made it an order as her gaze drifted to the bathroom door. She wasn’t running out on him, no matter what she thought. He wrapped his towel around the small of her back and pinned her against him. “Name?”

  She squirmed uncomfortably with brows furrowed. There was very little between her and his now-warmed body. “You can call me Peach. I’m not telling you the name on my birth certificate, and any man stupid enough to use that name is one with a death wish.”

  It was enough, more than she planned to give. “I still love your eyes. I’ll miss the way you spoke.”

  “Does the way I speak turn you on, Tomas?” she asked in Catalina’s lifting accent.

  He let out a shuddered sigh as his cock made a valiant attempt to rise. For the moment, having her close would have to be enough. “Yeah…yeah, it does, but I rather have the real you. You’re still cold.” Two more dry, fluffy towels sat high on the shelf. He wrapped one around her hips and the other around her shoulders.

  She shivered despite the steamed air and leaned against him. “I have things to do.” The little ice cubes pressing into his hips were her fingers.

  A weariness crept into her voice that worried him. The spunk was waning instead of growing. “First thing you have to do is rest. I think you wore yourself out saving my ass.”

  “Your heavy ass.” Her eyes fluttered and then closed.

  He huffed at the insult and lifted her, holding her tight against his chest. Startled, she held herself stiff. She shivered again; he felt it through the thick towels. She was running on fumes. No way she was going anywhere. Not like this. He carried her into the bedroom. “You like my ass.”

  She snorted, her eyelids drifting closed again. “I’ve always appreciated a nice ass. High and tight.” He set her gently on the stripped bed. “I don’t know what your fine ass is thinking, but it’s going to be disappointed.”

  “You couldn’t disappoint me.” He retrieved the pillows and tucked one under her head. He picked up the bedspread, arranging it with the chocolate stain on the outside, down by their feet.

  “I don’t think I will ever look at a bottle of Hershey’s syrup quite the same,” she said, watching him through narrow slits.

  He crawled under the covers and tugged at the towels. “Off with these.” He yanked them away when she shifted her weight and then pulled her bikini-clad, shivering body into his naked one. The heavy rope of her hair was plastered to her back. He pulled it away to rub his hands over her, sharing his new-found warmth.

  In the quiet, the afternoon sun brightening the room, his brain began to realize how close to death he had come. Everything he was, everything he worked for would have…he shivered but not from the cold. He hugged Cata—Peach. The name was too simple for a woman as audacious and brave as she was; it was perfect. He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I don’t think I’ve thanked you.” She snuggled into him, smiling. “I loved the pictures.”

  “You found them.” The grin turned devilish.

  “Oh, yeah. Will you dance for me?”

  “I can’t stay,” she whispered, but her words fell off. She pressed her face into the notch in his shoulder, gave a long, content sigh, and fell asleep.

  He tunneled his fingers into the truly wild strands of hair. He shouldn’t be so happy. Someone had tried to kill him, for fuck’s sake. But right at that moment, he didn’t give a damn. He pressed a kiss to his familiar stranger’s hair and followed her into sleep.

  Chapter Six

  Monday, April 10 six p.m.

  A growling in his belly woke Tom. He laid on his side, his body cradling the warm, sweet-smelling woman. A fire in his groin grew as she arched her back. The thick rope of hair had dried to a wild mane that covered both of them. He lifted it, revealing the soft spot under her ear. “Are you awake?”

  She inhaled deeply and released it with a long, slow sound of satisfaction. “Hmmm. I don’t need to ask if you are.” She rubbed her bikini-clad bottom against his erection. “What time is it?”

  He rolled over to see the digital display. “Almost six.” His stomach made its needs known again, causing her to laugh.

  “I think somebody missed lunch.”

  He remembered the fast-food breakfast and the pictures he found. “I’m hungry all right.” He nibbled her ear, feasting as he moved down her neck. Then his stomach made a noise that sounded like a threat, and she laughed again. “Giggles. Not what I was going for. Let’s order room service. We need more chocolate sauce.”

  She looked at him over her shoulder, her smile fading into sadness. “Staying would be so easy, but I have things to take care of still.” She shoved at his arm. “I need to get up.”

  He relaxed his grip but ran his hands over the length of her body as she l
eft the bed. She looked sexy, all rumpled as if they’d spent the afternoon playing. He clasped his hands behind his head, lingering on the image of her naked body under him while he waited for her to return. A single knuckle rap came from the door.

  He’d put out the “Do Not Disturb” sign this morning. Whoever it was could take a hint.

  The knock came a second time. “Clyde, I left my bride in an empty bed for you. The least you can do is answer the damn door.”

  Relief swept through Tom. He hopped out of bed and dug through his bag for his sleep pants. Finally, his head cleared enough to wonder why Jebediah McCormick was knocking on his door. “Jeb? What are you doing here?”

  “You call saying someone’s trying to kill you, it tends to get some attention. Whole family’s worried. You didn’t answer texts or calls. Took me too damn long to find you.”

  “I called you?” He hadn’t been in the state of mind to consider the details. Now that he was, there were a few blank spots. “You came? Yesterday was your wedding day.” He threw the door open.

  “I know it, but you’re family, and you needed us. You sounded…” Jeb paused, rubbing his hand across his mouth while his gaze verified Tom was still among the living. “You were in bad shape.”

  “I was. Wait, us?” He shoved his head into the hallway, looking for an entourage.

  “It’s just me. Carolina wanted to come, but I convinced her it was more important for her to focus on that little assignment you gave her. Butch knows, but we’re keeping it from Katie. Lord knows what she would do if she thought you were in trouble.”

  “She’d move hell and high water,” he said, knowing because he’d done the same for her. Vaguely, a dull memory surfaced of wanting Jeb’s help. He didn’t remember calling. If he’d been in his right mind, he wouldn’t have done it, which showed how out of his mind he’d been.

  “You gonna let me in?” Jeb stepped into the room as Tom retreated, then whistled long and low. “And to think I was worried about you being up here with someone beating on you. You out-did yourself.” He picked up the discarded champagne bottle and set it next to the door. He wandered the room, toeing the empty whipped cream can and picking a ripe strawberry from a white bowl. “Many of your ladies live in Cleveland?”