by Rebecca York
After looking around to make sure nobody was watching, they pulled his limp body into the backyard where he’d been hiding and quickly taped his hands and feet, the way they’d been taped in the van. His face was already battered and bruised from when Craig had slammed his head against the floor.
He groaned, and Craig shook him. His eyes blinked open. For seconds they were clouded with confusion before he focused on his captors.
“Who are you working for?” Craig asked as he crouched over the captive.
Curly’s only answer was a feral glare.
Craig slapped him across his bruised face, and he gasped. “Who?”
The man looked desperate, but he answered, “I don’t know.”
“Nice try.”
“It’s the truth. We was hired by phone.”
“How did they know to contact you?”
“I guess we got a reputation.”
Craig snorted. “Okay, I can buy that. Where were you supposed to take us?”
“To the parking lot of a shopping center in Thibodaux.”
Craig sighed. If it was true, it was an arrangement designed to reveal the least possible information if this guy was apprehended.
“We got away from you. Did you tell your client?”
“Yeah.”
Craig fired more questions at their captive. “And what did he say?”
“He sent us here.”
“It’s a man?”
“Yes. At least I think so, unless it’s a woman using one of those fancy things that distort your voice.”
Craig sighed. “Why did he want us?”
“He didn’t say.”
“So you have a number to call. What is it?”
“I can’t tell you.”
Craig raised his hand, and the man cringed, then spit out a number. Stephanie pulled a pen and paper from her purse and wrote it down.
Figuring he’d gotten what he could, Craig slapped a piece of tape over the man’s mouth, then handed the captured gun to Stephanie. “Keep him covered.”
While she held the gun in a two-handed grip, Craig went through the man’s pockets. This time he found a wallet and a cell phone, which he took.
The man made an angry sound as Craig took the money from the wallet. There were no credit cards or identification.
“I’ll be back in a couple of minutes. Keep him covered.”
He knew she didn’t want to be left alone with the guy, but she didn’t voice the complaint as he hurried to the back door of the bed-and-breakfast.
Was he making a mistake coming back here?
He hoped not.
Cautiously he opened the door and scanned the back hall, but it was empty. Still ready for trouble, he climbed to the second floor and tested the knob on his door. It was still locked, and he inserted the key.
To his relief, it looked as if nobody had been in the room since he’d left it that morning. He threw his computer into a carry bag and grabbed the suitcase that he’d left packed. Two minutes after he’d entered the room, he was on his way out.
As he ran back down the alley, he cast his mind ahead of him. At first he heard nothing mental, then about twenty yards from where he’d left Stephanie with the thug, his thoughts suddenly collided with hers.
Thank God.
Everything’s fine.
She answered with a silent laugh. I guess that’s relative.
The guy glared at them as Craig stepped into the backyard. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
The man on the ground stared bullets at their back as Craig hurried Stephanie away.
“Can we stop at my house?” she asked.
* * *
TOMMY LADREAU HEAVED himself out of the car and stretched.
He’d been watching Stephanie Swift’s house for hours, and he was sure he wasn’t going to find out anything new by knocking on her door.
But those were his orders, so he ambled across the street and knocked.
When there was no answer, he looked back toward his partner.
Marv Strickland got out of the car and joined him.
“Now what?”
“Let’s see if her car’s really there.”
They walked around to the back of the house. The vehicle was still sitting where Stephanie had left it when she’d come home.
They exchanged glances, then crossed the enclosed patio and knocked on the side door. Still no response.
Marv pulled out his cell phone and called their boss.
“Stephanie Swift’s car is here, but she’s not answering her door. What do you want us to do?”
There was a long silence before Reynard answered.
* * *
CRAIG SIGHED. “We’re already pressing our luck. You can pick up some clothes at a discount department store outside of town.”
“It would be a lot more efficient for me to just take some stuff from my house.”
He thought about it, knowing that she’d be more comfortable with her own things. “If you’re quick,” he finally said.
They drove toward her house, and he slowed as he came to the cross street. The car where the two men had been watching the house was still there, but he couldn’t see anyone inside.
“Duck down,” he said to Stephanie.
She slid lower in her seat as he turned the corner and drove by the car. It was empty, but as he drew abreast of her front door, it opened, and one of the men who had been in the vehicle stepped out. He saw Craig, and their eyes met.
Craig swore under his breath and stamped on the accelerator. The man shouted to his partner, who also dashed out of the house. Both of them ran for their vehicle as Craig sped away.
Stephanie popped up in her seat, trying to see what was going on.
“Stay down,” he shouted, but he had the feeling the damage was already done.
He wove through the French Quarter, trying to avoid pedestrians. A truck pulled in front of them, blocking their way.
Craig leaned on the horn. Stephanie looked in back of them and dragged in a strangled breath. When he looked in the rearview mirror, he could see the car gaining on them. It pulled up behind them, and one of the bodyguards jumped out.
“Make sure your door is locked,” Craig shouted.
Stephanie pressed the button seconds before the man reached her side of the vehicle and yanked on the door handle.
Just then the truck moved a couple of feet, giving Craig room to maneuver around it by putting his left wheels on the sidewalk.
“Turn down the alley,” Stephanie told him.
He took her advice, turning right and heading for the next street. They came out on Esplanade, and he turned right again. Although the bodyguards were no longer in back of them, he kept up a circuitous route through the city, thankful that there was no tracking device on his rental.
“They saw me with you,” Stephanie whispered. “They’ll tell John.”
“You can say I kidnapped you.”
“Oh, sure.”
“It could be true.”
“That guy saw me lock my door.”
“Maybe I was holding a gun on you.”
She clenched her hands into fists.
“Sorry,” he murmured.
“What do you want to do?” he asked, his breath frozen in his chest.
She swung her head toward him. “I don’t want to go back to John Reynard, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He managed to breathe.
She reached for his hand, and he felt the mental connection they’d established—and sensed her thoughts. Her fear of John Reynard. Her relief that she’d escaped. Her fear that perhaps she’d jumped from the frying pan into the fire.
Yeah, he silentl
y answered.
So now what?
I think we’d better not go to your cabin. Give me some other suggestions.
Houma?
The other guys could be looking for us there.
She named another town. “It’s about twenty miles from Houma.”
“That should work.”
As they drove away from the city, he felt a mixture of emotions. He’d found a woman who shared a bond with him that was stronger than anything he’d ever experienced, but that might be the reason someone was trying to capture them.
She caught the thought. Sorry.
We’ll deal with it.
How?
It depends on what we’re up against.
He put thirty miles between them and the city before stopping at a shopping center.
“Just pick up a few things,” he said. “You can use my toothpaste.”
“I’m very particular about toothpaste. What brand?”
When he told her, she laughed. “I guess we were on the same wavelength there.”
He knew she was trying for a light tone as she exited the car. He hesitated for a moment, then climbed out.
She looked at him.
“I don’t want to leave you alone.”
He pushed the shopping cart while she made some quick selections of T-shirts and jeans, then headed for the health section, where she picked up deodorant and moisturizer.
In some ways, it was such an ordinary domestic shopping trip. A man and his girlfriend getting a few things for a weekend getaway.
When she glanced at him, he knew she’d caught the thought.
But it’s something I never expected to share.
Yes, she answered.
When she pulled out her credit card at the cash register, he shook his head.
“I’d better pay cash.”
Right. I wasn’t thinking.
I can use the money I took from baldy.
She laughed. Perfect. And your gambling winnings.
Yeah, there’s that.
They finished up quickly, then headed for the town she’d mentioned. On the outskirts, she pointed to a bed-and-breakfast called Morning Glory that advertised cottages.
“What about there?”
He slowed and looked at the place, knowing it appealed to her.
“How are we going to pay,” she asked, “if we can’t use a credit card?”
“I still have money from that thug. He had a lot of cash on him.”
“Yes. Good.”
“Stay in the car while I register.”
When she gave him a questioning look, he explained, “I don’t want us seen together, if possible.”
When he stepped into the office, he saw a middle-aged woman sitting at the desk. Her name tag read Helen Marcos.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“My wife and I have been traveling around the area, and we’d like a nice room. In a private cottage, if possible.”
“Magnolia Cottage is one of my best. It’s got a bedroom and a sitting room and a large bathroom with a separate tub and shower.”
“That sounds perfect.”
He took the key and went back to the car. “I have a room I think you’ll like,” he said, feeling the tightness in his chest.
They’d both heard the phrase “get a room.” They both knew why they were getting this room.
The cottage was white clapboard, with green shutters and a couple of wicker rocking chairs on the porch.
“Nice,” Stephanie murmured as she inspected the exterior.
They were careful not to touch each other as they gathered their things.
Craig unlocked the door, and they stepped into a sitting room furnished with antique chests and tables and what looked like a comfortable chair and couch.
“Let me check it out,” he said, taking a quick look at the bedroom and then the large bathroom. He came back to the bedroom and drew the drapes over the window, darkening the room.
When he turned around, he saw Stephanie was standing a few feet away.
The mixture of anticipation and uncertainty on her face made his mouth go dry. He hoped his expression was more certain. He had longed for this kind of connection since he’d lost Sam. They’d grown up together and forged a bond as naturally as breathing. And now he felt even closer to Stephanie. It must have something to do with the clinic, but he didn’t know what that was yet. He knew he and Stephanie were on the verge of something astonishing. If they dared to take the next step.
“Are you afraid of this?” he managed to ask.
“You know I am.”
“You think it would be possible to walk away from each other now?”
The question brought a spurt of panic. “No.”
He saw her swallow.
“I never made love with John Reynard,” she said.
“Thank God,” he heard himself say.
“I came up with excuses.”
As she spoke, she took a step forward, and he did the same. They reached for each other, swaying as they clung together.
It’s going to be okay, he said.
We don’t know that.
Do you want to...stop?
I don’t think we can. Not now.
He absorbed the truth of her silent words as he lowered his mouth to hers for a long, hungry kiss.
When they’d gotten close before, they’d picked up thoughts from the other’s past. Now there was nothing between them but this moment in time.
They were alone with each other. And this time nothing was going to stop them. And yet they both understood that they were taking a risk that neither of them fully understood.
Chapter Ten
Craig kissed her again, his hands moving over her back, down to her hips, pressing her middle to his erection, knowing they were about to change everything.
Everything already changed the first time we touched.
That was true, too.
His head was pounding, a counterpoint that he wished he could banish. But it seemed to come with the arousal.
Maybe this is like the first time a woman makes love—there’s pain, she suggested.
Not a headache. That’s a different cliché. But we should go back to what you said first. What if we have to break through a barrier between us?
How?
He sent her a very graphic picture. When she moved her body against his, he knew they were on the same wavelength.
He slipped his hands under the edge of her knit top, sighing as he stroked the soft skin of her back.
Then he reached up to unhook her bra so that he could slide his hands to her front and cup her breasts, gliding his thumbs across the hardened crests.
“Oh.”
He bent to kiss her again, his goal to make her so hot that she couldn’t think about anything besides what they were doing together. Maybe that was the way to wipe out the pain building inside his skull.
He knew she’d captured that thought when she slid her hand down the front of his body, cupping his erection, rocking her palm against him.
Not too much of that. I want this to last.
She raised her hands, doing what he had done, slipping her fingers under his T-shirt so that she could stroke his back before pushing the fabric up.
He stepped away from her and pulled the shirt over his head.
By the time he’d tossed the shirt away, he saw that she was standing in front of him naked to the waist.
He stared at her in the dim light coming through the crack at the edge of the curtains. “You are so beautiful.”
She grinned. “Your chest isn’t bad, either.”
He crossed to the bathroom, turning on the light a
nd leaving the door a little ajar. When he looked back to her, he saw that she had turned down the covers and was reaching for the button at the top of her slacks.
“Let me.”
She went still as he crossed to her, worked the button, then slowly lowered the zipper so that he could shuck her pants down her legs, taking her panties with them.
He felt so much. Too much. Sexual arousal, the thoughts leaping toward him—and the pounding in his head that might wipe out everything else.
He strove to put that worry out of his mind. It wouldn’t happen if they did this right.
Which was what, exactly?
As he caressed her, he moved his lips against hers, stroking then nibbling with his teeth. He knew the exact amount of pressure that would bring her pleasure instead of pain, because he felt her reactions as well as his own.
She was busy, too, removing his pants and briefs.
Finally they were naked in each other’s arms, and his need for her threatened to overwhelm him.
If he didn’t make love with her...
He couldn’t finish the thought because he knew that neither one of them could stop. If he pulled away from her now, his brain would explode. And if he didn’t pull away, the same thing might happen.
She understood all that, and he sensed her fear. But they clung together, never breaking the contact as they staggered to the bed and fell onto the mattress. He rolled toward her, gathering her close, his body rocking against hers, both of them gasping at the sensation of skin against skin.
They were both trembling, coping with more than it seemed possible to bear. His head throbbed, and he knew that he might stroke out from the intensity.
He heard her gasp. Not just the sound, but in his mind—generated by the same pain he felt.
But he couldn’t let her go.
Maybe that was the key to survival. The courage to see this through—no matter where it led.
Remembering his vow to arouse her to fever pitch, he slid his hand down her body again, dipping into the folds high up between her legs. She was wet and molten for him, and he didn’t have to ask if she was ready to take the final step. He knew.
And she didn’t have to use her hand to guide him into her. They simply did it, moving from separate individuals to one being in a smooth, sure motion.
