Undercover Lover (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Jane Leopold Quinn

  I’ve gone to rehearsal. There’s coffee in the pot. Just turn it on.

  No I’ll see you later or even Have a good day.

  Ho-kay. Obviously, he’d been kicked to the curb. He didn’t blame her. It was in her best interest that he get out of here, out of her life. He had one priority, and he couldn’t forget it. A woman, especially one as beautiful and sexy as she was, would distract him from his objective.

  At the door, he took one last look around. He’d taken another shower, and the fragrance of her soap inundated his senses. Drying himself on her soft towels was a luxury. Her bright, comfortable house was like the woman herself. She’d washed and dried his jeans and T-shirt. He must have been dead to the world to not have heard that.

  Maybe some day he’d have a chance at a normal life. He’d have what his parents have. He wouldn’t be alone any more in a barren apartment and a barren life. It was necessary now, but he hoped it would be over. He’d do what he had to do to make it be over soon.

  Because he wanted more. And he wanted it with her.

  * * * *

  “Could this day last any longer?” Liz muttered.

  “Dying to get home to Sam?” Bailey asked, winking teasingly.

  Bailey didn’t know it, but what happened last night superseded anything else that had ever happened to her. She’d actually tended to a man with gunshot wounds. That gave her the shivers. Good God, so many things could have gone wrong. They’d looked to be minor, but what if they’d become infected?

  He wouldn’t be at her place when she got home. She’d purposely left a non-encouraging note propped on the coffee maker. He had problems in his life that he didn’t want to, or couldn’t, share with her. Maybe she could help him, but he wouldn’t let her. They barely knew each other. Except in bed. Making love with him was amazing. An erotic dream for sure. Her stomach muscles clenched, and her face heated at the memories.

  “The man was in tense,” Bailey said.

  Startled out of her thoughts, she frowned at her friend.

  “Honey,” Bailey said. “You don’t think a dangerous, earring-wearing stud is going to escape my notice, do you?”

  Yeah, a dangerous stud. Bailey had no idea how dangerous.

  “Is he as hot in the sack as he looks?” His grin flashed, handsome face wreathed in smiles.

  “I wouldn’t know,” she replied primly.

  “Hmm.” He wasn’t buying her denial.

  Chicago had a small, gossipy theater community, but if she asked Bailey to keep it confidential, he would. “Bail, this isn’t for general consumption, but something’s going on with him. He came to my house last night, and he’d been shot.”

  “Holy cow, honey! This isn’t good.”

  “I know. But he’s confusing, too. He can be sweet and tender.” Sex with Sam was great. It had been a long time since any man had aroused her so deeply. Fred had been an okay lover, but Sam’s intensity and skill took her breath away. Literally and figuratively.

  At times, from the look in his eyes, he seemed to cherish her, to need her. Why else had he come to her last night? Maybe he didn’t want to need her, but his conflict, his hunger, seemed to be for something more than sex.

  The pizza night, she’d gazed down the line of her body to see him nestled between her thighs, rustling his beard over her mound, a stray bit of light glinting off the gold hoop in his earlobe. His darkly intent eyes looked rakish and sexy. Looks weren’t deceiving.

  She’d squirmed with anticipation, hip joints aching from the width of his shoulders holding them apart, the wet heat of his breath bathing her exposed folds. Instinctively, she knew he’d be a good lover and gasped when his tongue speared through her cleft and set her clit afire with ravishing jolts. Her heels had levered her upward, awkwardly directing him. He’d told her to slow down.

  Patronizing bastard. He’d controlled her movements and slid his fingers through her pulsing, wet pussy. Stop. She’d wanted to say stop. Then his lips clamped around her clit. Astonished and delirious with sensation, she’d let him suckle. God, what heaven.

  Bailey’s fanning her with his script brought her back to the present.

  “Yeah, girl, I can see your confusion,” he said, his white teeth flashing in his full out laughter.

  Chapter 11

  Sam hadn’t left a note, but the bathroom and kitchen had been straightened up, and he’d washed out the coffee pot. He must have been raised well.

  Before she could change clothes, she heard a knock at the door. Her traitorous heart hammered. Maybe he was back. When she pulled the door open, two big hands pushed her, and she landed hard on her butt. She opened her lips to scream, and a hand in a black leather glove clamped over her mouth.

  “Shut up, bitch!”

  Wide eyed, she nodded, his hand moving up and down with her head. The man roughly pulled her to her feet, swung her around, and propelled her toward the couch.

  Oh, God, rape. No one’ll hear me scream. Her mind whirled with the possibilities.

  A bald head topped an overwhelmingly large body in jeans and a black trench coat. He stuck his wide, dusky face against her nose and snarled, “You’re gonna keep quiet and be a good girl, aren’t you, doll face?”

  Brown. His eyes were hard, brown nuggets, his cheeks pockmarked. She concentrated on his facial features in case she survived this and could describe him to the police. In case she survived. She choked back a sob.

  “I said shut up.” He took a roll of gray tape and a switchblade from his coat pocket. Pushing her into the cushions, he held her down with one knee planted on her stomach. He cut a piece of the tape and slapped it across her mouth.

  She hyperventilated. Couldn’t breathe, her mouth covered with tape, her chest crushed. I’m gonna die. She’d never thought anything like this could happen to her. She wouldn’t make it easy for him, though.

  Arching her pelvis, she tried to push him off her belly. He easily caught her batting fists and brutally yanked her arms over her head. She stared into his eyes, watching his expression for what he’d do next.

  He focused on her wrists, wrapping more tape around them. When he sat up, she was too scared to move her arms even though it left her body undefended.

  “Where’s your boyfriend, bitch?”

  Boyfriend? She shook her head.

  The man gripped her jaw, tightly squeezing her neck. “Bolt,” he snarled. “Where’s the asshole Bolt?”

  She shook her head again. Her lungs ached. She couldn’t get a deep breath and was terrified of smothering to death.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t know where he is. He’d never leave a sweet little babe like you for long.” The man heaved to his feet.

  She groaned, the sound lost behind the thick tape. The sudden removal of his knee from her stomach brought more pain, and tears leaked from the corners of her eyes into her hair.

  The man’s expression turned savagely sensual as his gaze raked her body from neck to thighs.

  She couldn’t stop trembling. His gaze focused on her breasts. No, God. He drew his hand down her chest and cupped a breast, squeezing it to the point of pain. She stared into his eyes, trying to read him, trying to be ready for whatever would happen next. It would not happen without her fighting back.

  “Mmm. Nice, baby.” He squeezed again.

  Her whole body quaked. She whimpered. His tongue snaked across his lips.

  At that moment, she heard a knock at the front door. Shrieking as loudly as she could under the tape, she thrashed her legs, kicking at the man.

  He grabbed her up and yanked her to his side. Looking through the peep hole, he sneered, “Bolt.” Shoving her against the wall, he opened the door to lure Sam in.

  She twisted and tried to scream a warning.

  “What the hell…? Liz!”

  The man pulled a gun from his waistband and pointed it at Sam. She lurched and fought, trying to throw off his aim.

  Kaboom!

  The sound roared through her brain. God, no! Sam! Ple
ase don’t let him be hit. The man knocked her to the floor. She caught a glimpse of the closed front door, with no Sam dead or dying on the inside.

  The blast of the gunshot had been too close. She couldn’t hear a thing. The man dragged her over to the phone. He picked it up, holding it to his ear. His lips moved, sharp, short movements, spit spraying onto the phone, onto her face. He put his arm around her shoulders, stuck the mouthpiece against the tape over her lips, and squeezed her until she moaned into the phone.

  Sound came back to her in little bits, and she heard him say Sam was welcome to join them, but he wasn’t letting the woman go.

  Then she heard loud and clear, “Are you crazy, Bolt? You’re a dead man.” He flung the phone into the cradle.

  She heard sirens in the distance. Please, God, let them be coming for her. What could she do? He waved the gun near her face. She could still feel the heat from the barrel.

  “You in the house. Come out with your hands up.”

  Oh, God, just like in the movies.

  Her phone rang.

  The man picked it up.

  She took her chance and started kicking him.

  The phone to his ear, the man shouted at her, “Get down, you bitch.” Then into the phone said, “What are you going to do, Bolt? Are you coming in?

  “Who’s this? Unh, Sergeant Anderson, is it? I want Bolt. Get him on the phone.”

  She couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, just this guy’s demands and threats. She didn’t know if she felt any better now the police were here. She could still be killed.

  “Bolt! You’re gonna be sorry you ever touched me. Do what I say, and your lady maybe won’t get hurt.”

  This is revenge against Sam?

  “I want two million dollars and a free pass out of here. An SUV, and I’m taking the woman. When I’m out of the city, I’ll drop her off. As long as no one is following me.”

  “No, I won’t trade. I’ll take both of you, but she’s staying.”

  Then it was quiet. He forced her to sit, and, after slicing the tape between her wrists, he pulled them behind her back and re-taped them.

  Every fifteen minutes the phone rang. He got more and more wired and demanded to know the status of the SUV and money. The police apparently tried to negotiate, but he never changed his demands. She hyperventilated again, trying to calm herself. This guy would never let her go.

  On one of the phone calls, he said, “Sure, Bolt, I’ll let you talk to your girlfriend.” He held the phone to her ear. “Say something, honey. Oh, wait, you can’t talk.” He leaned into the mouthpiece and taunted, “Her mouth is taped shut, asshole. Say something, baby.” He prodded her by pinching her breast.

  She moaned into the phone.

  “Liz, you’ll be all right. I’ll get you…”

  Sam’s voice. He sounded calm, in control. She squealed high-pitched sounds. Even if it only showed him she was alive, it was worth it.

  The man now paced her house from front to back. He checked the back door to make sure it was still locked. He opened the refrigerator. “Don’t you have anything to drink in this dump? So, lady, did your boyfriend tell you about me? He never should have screwed around with me.”

  She stared helplessly at him. Wrists taped behind her back, she’d never felt so physically vulnerable. Her mouth taped closed, she was still terrified of smothering.

  “Thought he’d got his baby brother away from me, but that never happens. Once I get ‘em, they’re mine forever.”

  His intent gaze frightened her. She had no idea what he was talking about. Sam had mentioned he had brothers, but he’d never talked about this guy.

  “Thought he could beat me up and get away with it? Fucking asshole!” He paced the kitchen area, his strides becoming more and more agitated. “Where the hell are they? I’m not gonna wait forever.”

  His cold, evil gaze connected with hers. She’d never taken hers off him with his wild ramblings and movements. Now he focused in on her. He looked like he had one thing on his mind.

  She couldn’t stop the whine coming up from deep in her belly. He stalked nearer, fists clenching and unclenching.

  “Yeah,” he growled, a sneer making his face even uglier. “You know what’s gonna happen, baby, don’t ya? Maybe you’ll like it better than with pretty boy.” He grabbed her upper arms and wrenched her to her feet.

  She huffed sharp, horrified breaths into the sticky tape, never taking her eyes off his. Her hyperaware mind screamed, Don’t! Don’t! Her heart thundered in her chest.

  Ring.

  She almost choked on her own spit.

  Ring, ring.

  He stared at her, his jaw tight, the joint below his ear moving rigidly.

  Please. Please answer it. She didn’t blink, just watched for his next move. There was nothing to say he would answer the phone.

  Ring, ring.

  She prepared herself to fight him off as long and hard as she could.

  He blinked, several times, pursed his lips as if weighing his options.

  Whatever was going on in his brain, answering the phone finally won out.

  “Yeah,” he snapped. “It’s outside?” He glared at her.

  She was under no illusion she was out of danger now.

  “Yeah, I’m here. I want everyone back, except Bolt. He can watch me take his girlfriend.” He threw her a glance that promised retribution.

  Her stomach contracted even tighter in terror.

  “Drive it right up on the sidewalk, driver’s side by the door.” He listened a moment then bellowed, “Do it!” He nervously paced, muttering, losing control.

  This was it. He would kill her and escape before the police could do anything about it. She heard pounding on the door.

  Then Sam shouted, “Dominguez! The SUV’s in place. Let her go and take me.”

  He sounded so good. If the worst happened, at least he’d be near.

  “Liz, are you all right?”

  “She can’t talk right now, but she is having a good time, aren’t you, baby?”

  “Liz, it’ll be okay. Soon.”

  “Yeah, asshole. Everything’ll be okay. You’re not gonna screw with me and get away with it.”

  “Dominguez, let her go. She’s not involved in any of this. You want me, you can have me.”

  “Why would I give up a sweet little package like her for an asshole like you?”

  “You hurt a hair on her head, and I’ll tear you limb from limb.” Sam’s voice went from demanding to threatening.

  “Enough of this chit chat. We’re coming out. That SUV’d better be in position, or she’s dead right now, right in front of you.” Dominguez slid his left arm around her neck and squeezed, forcing her toward the door.

  Chapter 12

  Liz jerked and fought, afraid of passing out from the pressure of his arm around her neck. Flashing stars danced in her vision, and she couldn’t get a deep breath. Dominguez held her upright, because he needed her as a shield. He opened the front door, and before stepping out, transferred his gun from the hand at her neck back to his right hand.

  The bright lights blinded her. She turned her head away. Giant spotlights shone glaringly on the house. A dozen police cars, fire engines, and ambulances, all with their lights flashing, dotted the street. A helicopter droned ominously above them. If she’d been scared before, this was worse. Soon everything would be all over. Either she’d be dead now or dead later out in the country. In no way did she believe he’d let her go.

  The police ranged haphazardly in front of them, the SUV close, driver’s side door yawning open and waiting. She did not want to get in there. Closing her eyes, she prayed whatever happened would happen fast. He held the gun to her temple. The cold metal felt savage against her skin. She was defenseless with her hands taped behind her back.

  Open your eyes, Liz. Look at me. Look at me, baby.

  In her head. The words were in her head. At first they didn’t mean anything, just low sounds beneath all the
other noise.

  Look at me.

  Sam.

  Liz, baby, open your eyes.

  She cranked her eyes open a slit, saw the thick arm cloaked in dark wool imprisoning her neck. Her lashes lifted, she let her gaze roam under the level of the lights, the cops, the cop cars, back down to the arm restraining her. These might be the last things she ever saw… A strange peace took over. It was out of her control.

  Look at me, love. Look away from him. Look at me.

  She didn’t think she could be any more terrified. If she died, could she do it with dignity? Did that even matter? Sam. She found his face in the crowd, their eyes locked. He was so beautiful, the sweet and sensual memories came back to her. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  She gagged but was too frightened to moan. She wanted to scream and never stop but was too terrified to make a sound. She lost Sam in the crowd. Her gaze flicked desperately from face to face. It looked like a scene from a movie. A scene out of a nightmare. Surely this many people could save her. She struggled, testing his hold.

  Dominguez tightened his arm across her throat, the gun’s mouth lethal on her forehead.

  There, she found Sam again. The blades of the helicopter still thwapped overhead, and the police radios still squawked. Everyone waited for Dominguez to make his move. She wished something would happen. Just to get it over with.

  Sam scrunched his nose. What was he trying to say? He hunched forward, bobbing his head.

  Faint, sweetheart. Fall down. Look at me, baby. Sink down.

  Faint? That’ll just make it easier for Dominguez to throw me in the SUV.

  Trust me, Liz.

  Her name, his voice in her head. Trust him. I do. I trust you.

  Do it, baby. Faint.

  Her gaze on Sam, she let her weight carry her downward.

  Crack!

  Showered with blood and gore, hot and clotted, she screamed behind the tape across her mouth. Dominguez pulled her under him when he collapsed. Brain and bits of bone fragments filled her field of vision. She screamed and the screams stole her breath. OhGodohGod, help me.