by Jo Leigh
“He was in the military?”
“Yeah. Some big shit. They all kissed his ass.”
“Why isn’t he still some big shit?”
Charlie felt his cheeks heat. He didn’t want to tell this part, but Ed would know if he was lying. “Because of me.”
“Really? What happened?”
“I, uh, took some things from one of his Army friend’s car one time.”
“Things?”
“Some papers about a weapon or something. I’m not even sure what they were. They were just in this locked briefcase, so I figured they must be worth something. I didn’t get to sell it, though. They caught me and I did some time. He said he was through with me, but I’m his brother, you know? He promised he’d look after me.”
“I see.”
“Anyway, I was wondering…what time are we gonna get the ransom? Because I have some, you know, things I gotta do.”
“Not for several hours, Charlie. Just finish your dinner, and I’ll let you know when we’re going to leave.”
He nodded, turned back to his plate. But now he was even less hungry. Damn that Mikey. He shoulda helped out his only brother.
FINALLY, JAZZ LEFT. He turned off the light and he locked the door behind him, but they were finally alone.
“I know,” Tate said, shaking the cuff against the bar. “It’s really uncomfortable.”
After dinner, Jazz had cuffed him right next to her. They were lying down with plenty of pillows behind them. He’d even gotten Jazz to cover them with a blanket. But there was no way he was going to be this uncomfortable for the whole night.
“Tell me something, Tate. What is it you like about that Prada store?”
She didn’t say anything for a minute, then she giggled. Tate was not the giggling type. It sounded pretty good on her.
“It’s not that I like the store so much. I know people there and I like the way their clothes look on me. What are you doing?”
He had gotten his comb out of his left back pocket and was now inching his way up the bed to get in the best position. They’d hooked him up with his right hand, unfortunately, but his left would do.
As soon as he could maneuver properly, he pressed the far edge of the comb down on the pawl. It took him a while to disengage the pawl from the ratchet, but once that was done, the cuff popped open.
“Was that what I think it was?”
He followed the same steps with her handcuff. He left both cuffs hanging from the bar as he moved down and closer to Tate.
“How did you do that?”
“My uncle was Houdini.”
“Really?”
“No. I wasn’t always a limo driver.”
“I know. You were a spy.”
“Sort of.”
“Why sort of?”
He moved even closer to her and decided he’d better just go for broke. “Lift up.” He tapped her on the back of her neck.
She did, and he slipped his arm in back of her, cradling her head.
“I was in military intelligence, which is, yeah, the spy division. We broke into places, stole information, coordinated military operations and the CIA presence.”
“Sounds terrifying.”
“It could be. But when I say I was well trained, I’m not kidding.”
“Why in the world aren’t you still there? Doing important things?”
“Taking care of you is important.”
“Oh, please. I’m a spoiled rich girl with psychiatric issues. How important can I be?”
“To me?”
She didn’t respond except for a little shiver. Good. He didn’t want her to be scared. He wanted her to believe that he could get them out of this. If not tonight, then in the near future. He needed her to do whatever he asked of her, no matter what. And for that she needed to be panic-attack-free.
It would all be so much easier if his own brother wasn’t sitting in the next room. What killed him was that he’d let Charlie get the better of him again. The first time had cost him his military career. This time it would cost a hell of a lot more. He couldn’t even blame his brother. Charlie was Charlie. Nope, this was his own damn fault, and before he got fired, quit, whatever, he was going to make damn sure Ed Martini and Jazz would never bother anyone again. He would make sure that none of the Baxter money was taken and he’d do whatever the hell it took to make sure Tate Baxter went home safely.
“Michael?”
“Yes?”
“Is something wrong?”
“No. No, I’m just angry at myself. I should never have let you go into that store alone.”
“I wasn’t alone.”
“But Elizabeth—”
“Is amazingly capable. She isn’t at fault. I won’t have her lose her job over this.”
He smiled, glad she couldn’t see him. “Okay. Elizabeth stays.”
“Good.”
“Speaking of good, you’re doing damn well yourself.”
“Not really.” She snuggled in closer, and he was glad to have her warmth. “I passed out. Several times.”
“Understandable.”
“And when I was conscious, I was in full panic mode. I didn’t do any of the stuff I was trained to do.”
“It’s a whole different ball game when it’s for keeps.”
“I’m just sorry, that’s all.”
“For what? None of this is your fault.”
“I don’t know. Maybe all these years of focusing so much energy into my fear of being kidnapped…”
“You did not bring this on.”
She sighed, and he felt a small drop of wet on his shoulder.
“Talk to me, Tate. I’ve heard…”
“That I’d been kidnapped?” she asked. “That we—me and my cousin—were taken from my bedroom?”
He wasn’t sure if he should push or just let it go. Maybe talking about it would help, but he was no psychiatrist. Of course, she’d probably told Dr. Bay about this, but Dr. Bay, he now knew, was an ass.
He nodded, squeezed her shoulder.
“Her name was Lisa. She was my best friend. My only friend. Because her father and mine worked together and we were the same age. We did everything together.”
“Same age, huh?”
“Yep. Her mother—my aunt Sharon—made sure we stuck close because my mother died when I was two.”
“I didn’t know you were that young.”
“I don’t remember much about her. But I remember everything about my childhood with Lisa.”
“Tell me about it.”
“She had really long hair and I used to love to brush it. I would pretend I was a hairdresser and we’d play every day. I was sure that’s what I was going to be when I grew up.”
“You? A hairdresser?”
“Why not?”
“I can’t picture it.”
“Back then, when we were little kids, we weren’t really rich. Not like we are now. My father and his brother had gotten some lucrative government contracts, which is basically what made the company, but we were as nouveau as it gets. We were so happy. We traveled, we explored. Lisa and I did everything together. We were as close as sisters.”
“What happened?”
“We were fifteen. So that’s—”
“Nine years ago.”
She nodded and her hair brushed against his neck.
“Since we traveled so much to places like Italy, England, Spain, we’d been taught to be really careful there because of all the kidnappings. Lisa and I barely thought about it, but there was always someone watching out for us. Damn, it was fun. I never felt lonely. We had the same tutors and the same homework. We wore the same clothes. We actually didn’t look that much alike, but everyone thought we were twins.”
“Sounds great.”
“It was.”
That little shiver he’d felt just a few moments ago was back, but it meant something completely different now. He’d seen her tremble just before a panic attack. Just before her breathing became labore
d and her skin turned deathly pale. He’d meant for the conversation to relax her, to help her trust him. Not send her into a tailspin.
“I never had anyone I was real close to when I was a kid,” he said. “I was into sports, mostly football, but I kept having to change schools.”
“Why?”
“My old man was a drunk. We had to skip on the rent at least once a year.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Yeah, well. He was the reason I signed up for the Army, so I guess it wasn’t so bad.”
She turned to look at him. It was so dark in the room he couldn’t make out her expression, although he had a good idea what it was. “Wasn’t so bad? I can’t believe you’re so cavalier about it.”
“I’ve lived with it all my life. One adjusts.”
“I don’t think it’s nearly that easy.”
“You’ve adjusted.”
“No, I haven’t. That’s the whole point. I should have adjusted years ago. I should have put my fear in the proper perspective. I mean, come on, what are the odds that—”
He heard her take a swift breath, then laughter. Not giggling this time but the real thing.
“What’s so funny?”
Her answer was delayed as she got herself under control. “What are the odds,” she said, “that I’d get kidnapped three times?”
He grinned. “I’d say they were pretty good.”
“Yep.”
He stroked her hair, which was softer than he’d even imagined. “Well, the odds of you getting kidnapped four times have to be astronomical. So once this is over you’re home-free.”
She laughed again, and he joined her, and it was maybe the best thing that could have happened. Her whole body relaxed. Hell, at this rate, she might actually get some sleep tonight. They both needed to eat, sleep, stretch. He had no idea when opportunity would knock, and they both had to be ready.
He thought about getting up, but then her hand went to his chest and he realized she hadn’t finished her story.
“Anyway,” she said, her voice softer now, “we were really careful in Europe but not so much back home. It wasn’t that no one thought anything could happen to us, but—”
“Home turf. It’s hard to stay diligent.”
She nodded. “We spent the night at each other’s houses all the time. The night they took us we were at my place. It was summer, hot. I wasn’t a big fan of the air conditioner, so I had my bedroom window open. It was nice to feel the breeze.”
“Sure,” he said.
“I remember a hand over my mouth. It smelled like stale cigarettes. We were dragged out the window in the middle of the night. Both of us were blindfolded, gagged and tied up. We were thrown in the back of a truck. We rode for a long time and then we were carried inside, down some stairs. It was a basement, and it smelled like cigarettes and beer.
“It gets fuzzy after that. I only remember a few things. Lisa screaming. Someone taking off my nightgown. Praying. Then I was on a street I didn’t recognize and I was wrapped in a white sheet. I was alone.”
“You escaped.”
“I got out, but I don’t know if I had anything to do with it. Someone could have put me there, for all I know.”
She wasn’t shaking. Her voice was steady. Even her skin felt warm and dry. Had she told the story that many times? Or would she fall apart if he said a wrong word?
“I saw a woman in a window and I went to her door. She called the police.”
“Lisa wasn’t so lucky.”
“No. She wasn’t. They found her body three days later in a field that was covered with junk. They hadn’t bothered to dress her, they just dumped her like so much trash.”
“Tate—”
“It’s okay. It’s good to remember. To focus on the fact that it isn’t over until it’s over.”
He pulled her close, resting his cheek on her soft hair. “There’s nothing fair or good about any of it,” he whispered. “I hope the bastards burn for eternity.”
“Yeah,” she said.
He rubbed her arm with his fingers, a very light, hypnotic touch. They didn’t speak, and she didn’t weep, but all the same the next hour was about calming down. About coming back to now.
When finally she sighed, he knew he could do what he had to do, even if it meant leaving her. Not for the whole night but for as long as it took him to do some recon. He’d been too busy fixing her wrist to really check out the bathroom. He was sure he would find something in there he could use as a weapon. Then there was the vanity and the dresser. Probably closets, too, although he didn’t remember seeing them.
He looked over at the door, and there was still light coming in around the edges. Which meant if he turned on the light in here, it wouldn’t be noticed.
“Tate, I have to move. I’m just going into the head. Will you be all right?”
The hand on his chest lifted slowly. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sorry, but I have to do this now. The light’s still on in the saloon.”
“Ah. That makes sense.”
“I won’t be long.” He climbed out of the bed and went to the door. Even though he knew it was locked, he tried it anyway. Mistakes happened, and sometimes not by him. “Close your eyes,” he said. “Light.”
As soon as his eyes adjusted, he went to the vanity. This cabin was clearly used to accommodate women. He found a hairbrush, a mirror, makeup, creams, sprays. Nothing particularly helpful.
There were clothes in the dresser—women’s, and some of them were mighty skimpy.
The head, however, held his interest. A package of safety razors. Those could come in handy. A long pair of scissors. Some isopropyl alcohol and a book of matches along with a scented candle. He could work with this stuff. He just had to be careful how and when, because Tate was his weakest link. He wouldn’t allow them to use her as a bargaining tool, so he’d have to make damn sure if he struck, he’d win.
There was also the question of Charlie. Yes, he wanted to kill him for his role in all this, but truthfully he wasn’t sure he could, so there was another weak link.
If it had been just him, he’d have had no problem with the crew. He could get rid of Jazz in two shakes. The man was a brute, nothing more. But the bald guy, he might be trouble. The chef was no big deal, and Martini was too used to letting others do the dirty work.
But it wasn’t just him. Tate’s safety overruled everything.
He rearranged some of the equipment in the head, then he leaned out and said, “Just one more sec,” before he closed the door with his foot.
After he’d washed, he went back into the cabin. Tate was still in the same position, the blue blanket pulled up above her breasts, her head resting on a mound of pillows. She looked pale and scared, but she hadn’t simply been resting, waiting for him to return.
There was a fierceness about her he’d never seen before. Curious. Was it the talk of her little cousin? Or was it the laughter that had brought her a few steps closer to fighting back?
“What’s that smile for?” she asked.
He hadn’t realized. “You’ve made a decision.”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing. It’s not important.” He turned off the lights and was once again amazed at the depth of the darkness.
“Are you going to be able to find your way back?”
“Eight steps,” he said.
“Now that sounds like something a spy would say.”
He got back to the bed and climbed in, shifting until he had her comfortably beside him again. “Those kinds of details make all the difference. Next time you go to the head, count. And when Jazz comes into the room, watch him. Does he go to the right or the left? Is he ready before he turns on the light or does he take a few seconds to adjust?”
Her hand touched his chest again. “Is it always like that for you? Everywhere?”
“Most of the time, yes.”
“So how do you relax?”
He chuckled. “Well, there are a couple of wa
ys….”
There was that little shiver again.
“I have a confession.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve been meaning to invite you for dinner.”
“Really?” Of course, he’d known about that for months, but he wasn’t going to spoil this moment for her.
“I’ve always enjoyed our talks. I thought it would be nice to spend some time with you off the clock.”
“It sounds nice.”
“I know. Unfortunately I’m a big chicken. I was afraid you’d—”
“What?”
“I don’t know. Just afraid.”
“We’re here now. And I don’t see a clock anywhere.”
Her hand moved. Not much and not under his shirt, but it was a start.
He stroked her hair once more and, as he did so, pulled her tighter against him. It wouldn’t be easy to kiss her in such a dark place. He could miss by a mile. Unless…
He took her chin in his left hand and held her steady as he lowered his lips onto hers.
8
TATE’S EYES FLUTTERED closed at the whisper of his lips. She held her breath waiting for him to pry her mouth open, for the gaping maw that was all she’d known of kisses. But he barely touched her. Just a brush, an almost that made her quiver. She tried to remain still, to let him show her what he wanted, but the way he teased her, nearly touching, made her arch forward.
Even then, even with him truly kissing her, he was soft and deliberate. As if he were testing, putting his proverbial toe in the water.
The metaphor made her smile, and when he smiled in return, she felt it. Felt his lips curve and his warm breath mingle with hers.
A moment passed, and he must have decided that the water was fine because there was no more teasing. He took her mouth and his tongue slipped inside. In that instant she realized everything she’d known about kissing in the past was wrong.
He didn’t swallow her whole or do anything that would spoil the moment. With his arm holding her head, his fingers still guiding her chin, she felt amazingly, astonishingly safe.
How was it possible to have the worst and best experience of her life happen at the exact same time?
Gathering her courage, she touched his tongue, and that was a sensation beyond thrilling. He let her lead the dance for a moment, then he was in charge once more.
