by Anita Meyer
She clutched the brush so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Why the hell not?”
“Because believe it or not, you need me. You can’t stay awake twenty-four hours a day. You can’t always watch your back. I can. We can. Together.” He seemed to stagger under the weight of his own words. “The three of us,” he amended. “You, me and Mac.”
“No. I won’t let you risk your life for me.”
“It’s my life and I’ll do whatever the hell I want with it. Now, stop arguing and get some sleep.”
In a burst of fury, Caroline hurled the brush across the room. It crashed against the wall, the sound echoed by the bathroom door as it slammed closed behind her. A moment later, he heard the shower run.
Jeff rubbed his forehead and temples with the tips of his fingers. Why was she so stubborn? Why was she destined to learn everything the hard way?
One way or another, he had to show her. Had to prove that she was vulnerable. She’d hate him for it, but it might be the only way to save her life.
With a flick of her wrist, Caroline turned off the water and reached for a towel. After squeezing most of the water from her hair, she wrapped the towel around it, turban-style. Then she wrapped another one around her torso, tucking the end in across her breasts.
She flipped off the bathroom light and stepped into the bedroom. Darkness surrounded her. “Jeff?” she whispered. She hadn’t been in the bathroom long, but it was long enough to fall asleep when you’d been on the run for twenty-four hours. She listened for a snore, a moan, or even heavy breathing. But there was only silence.
She turned back to the bathroom, fumbling for the light switch. But before she had gone two steps, she was grabbed from behind. A hand clamped down hard over her mouth, and her scream died in her throat.
Chapter 16
Caroline stomped down hard on the man’s instep. It would have been a whole lot more painful if she had been wearing heels, but it was effective enough. He staggered.
Then she jammed her elbow into his stomach. He made a woofing noise. His grip lessened and she wrenched away.
Adjusting to the darkness, she saw the outline of the furniture. She grabbed a lamp from the dresser and ripped the cord from the outlet, then spun around, the lamp raised above her head.
“No!” Whether the sound came from him or her, she couldn’t tell.
She swung the lamp in a wide arc, aiming for the man’s head. Steel fingers snapped around her wrists as he wrestled her for the lamp.
“Stop fighting,” he grated. “It’s me, Jeff.”
Moonlight filtered through the thin curtains and she got her first good look at him. Coarse stubble covered his jaw, making him look dangerous. But the sharp planes of his face were familiar;
“Damn you!” she seethed, the lamp dropping from her hands. “Are you out of your mind?”
He caught the small lamp and righted it on the dresser, then flipped on the bathroom light. His eyes met hers. And in that moment, she knew. This little ambush had been a test. Her anger exploded.
“You still don’t get it, do you?” she said. “Read my lips,
McKensie. I can take care of myself.” She jabbed his chest with a finger. “You’re standing there with a sore instep, an aching gut, and you came within inches of having your skull cracked open. And me? I don’t have a scratch.” She stepped back and spread her arms wide. “See for yourself.”
That’s when the towel came undone.
His gaze remained fastened on her face. He blinked, then looked at her. All of her. His expression, if anything, became even harder.
A deafening silence filled the room. Caroline felt the blood rush to her cheeks. The towel lay on the floor. She bent to retrieve it, but he kicked it aside.
Reflexively, she backed up. His eyes were dark, dangerous. His lips drew back in an almost-savage smile. Her breath caught in her throat.
The turban that held her hair slipped, and she yanked on the second towel, pulling it off her head, holding it awkwardly in front of her. He took a single step forward and ripped it from her hands, tossing it across the room.
Excitement racked her body. Heat swept through her like the flash of a blowtorch. He would take her. Ravish her.
And she wanted him to.
Jeff stared at her. Her skin glowed with a damp, pearlized sheen. Her dark hair was wet and tangled, her breasts swollen, nipples hard, and her eyes—more tempting than ever. He wanted to strangle her. Wanted to punish her.
Hell, he just wanted her. Hard. Fast. Now.
Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he recognized the feelings as madness. Anger, or maybe frustration born of fear. Whatever it was, wherever it came from, damned if he could stop it. He grabbed her wrist and wrenched her into his arms.
Caroline winced as his fingers dug into her flesh. His mouth crushed down on hers, and she tasted rage mixed with desire. She met his violent demand with one of her own. With a low, hungry growl, she pressed her naked body against him, her teeth raking his tongue.
He buried his hands in her thick, wet hair, and inhaled her scent. The fragrance of soap and shampoo swirled around him like a whirlpool, drawing him in deeper. Her mouth added fuel to a fire that was already raging out of control. Again and again his tongue slipped between her lips, savoring the taste of her.
He grabbed her hand and pushed it down between their bodies to the hard ridge straining against his pants. Never in his life had he been so painfully hard. She unzipped his fly and stroked him slowly with her palm. Up, down, then up again. A hand dipped in fire, igniting flames with every touch.
He threw her onto the bed, and blanketed her with his body, his weight wedged between her thighs. He took her mouth again, claiming her, savagely branding her.
Reaching down, he brushed past the soft mound of hair, his fingers seeking her warm center. She was hot, slick. He probed and stroked, deeper and deeper, with bruising caresses, her long, throaty moan reverberating against his mouth.
Her hips arched against his, seeking him, fighting to bring him closer. His shirt bunched in her hands. She clutched his shoulders and moved beneath him in suggestive invitation. She was seductive. She was daring. She was his.
Triumphantly, he rose over her, the muscles in his back and arms trembling as they supported his weight. For a second he hesitated, but her eyes—those damned eyes that tempted him beyond endurance—were open and locked on to his. He drove into her, burying himself with one desperate stroke.
Caroline cried out, then relaxed, trying to draw him in deeper. Nameless sensations battered her and tears dampened her cheeks. She was so full, so complete. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, urging him on.
He thrust powerfully again, his teeth clenched in a grimace of exhilaration and torment. Perfect pleasure. Perfect pain. His mind raced his body for control. But there was no control. His heart pounded and his body shuddered with every ragged breath.
Her neck arched and her head pressed into the mattress as she tried to gulp air into her lungs. His body slid over hers again and again until every nerve screamed for release. She clung to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, locking her ankles over his—entangling their limbs, entwining their needs.
He felt the helpless quiver that took her body—felt it to the depths of his soul. She wanted him. And that fact alone drove him to a summit of pleasure he had never known. He rode her like fury, and she matched his surging rhythm.
She came with a wicked shudder and a final cry of stunned release that echoed through the room and sang in his blood. He felt the sudden surge of her body, and then her fingers lessened their grip on his clothing. He held her, shaking and shivering, tightly against his body and drove once more deep inside her pulsating warmth. He exploded, shattered, clutched her close and held on as the vicious ecstasy caught him. Strength sapped, he called her name and collapsed onto her while the whole world drifted away.
Moments later, with his heart still pounding and his lungs gasping for breath, he considered moving off her. But he co
uldn’t summon the energy. The truth was, sex with this woman was unlike anything he had ever known. Glorious, overpowering, mind-shattering. A union he hadn’t thought possible.
And thoughts like that could get them both killed.
Sanity returned, and with it came a host of recriminations. He’d done it again. Compromised her safety. He’d always been able to plan everything down to the last detail. But one look at her, and every one of his well-laid plans had gone up in smoke. Not to mention any idea of careful, re sponsible, safe sex.
She could have pulled away, he reminded himself. Resisted, slapped his face. But the fact that she wanted it as much as he did, did little to absolve his conscience. He’d behaved recklessly, foolishly. That wasn’t like him.
And it scared him to death.
Her eyes closed, Caroline tried to comprehend the imponderable. They had come together like thunder and lightning—a noisy, turbulent energy that was terrifyingly wild. Even through the clothing, his body radiated heat, and she could feel his heartbeat, still far from steady. Serenity and calmness enveloped her now, like the quiet after a storm. She had never felt such peace…contentment….love.
Then she felt him slip away. Felt cool air move across her body. Heard the rasp of a zipper as he adjusted his clothes.
“Caroline.”
The bed shifted under his weight as he sat down beside her. She opened her eyes and saw a mix of emotions darken his face—shock, confusion, and, God help her, regret.
“Caroline, I’m—”
She pressed her fingers against his mouth. “Don’t say it, Jeff,” she warned. “Don’t tell me you’re sorry. I can handle anything else you have to say, but not that.”
“I—” He looked into her eyes and his heart stopped cold.
There was no pain, no anger, no bitter resentment. Just a smoldering passion that even their lovemaking had not doused.
He hadn’t the words to describe what he was feeling, so he said the first thing that popped into his head. “I still don’t know how you got off the island. You didn’t have a penny to your name.”
Caroline smiled. “We’re even. I don’t know how you managed to follow me from a field in St. Croix to a field in Tennessee.”
She sat up on the bed, unembarrassed, uninhibited…still naked. She looked like a Botticelli nude—elegant, unassuming, beautiful. He felt himself hardening again. He stood and walked across the small room, as far away from her as he could get.
“We can compare notes later. I think right now, we’d better get some sleep.”
She nodded and rose from the bed. “My clothes are in there,” she said, pointing toward the bathroom. “I don’t have a spare set.” She smiled. “I travel light.”
Jeff waited until she’d disappeared in the bathroom before stooping down to retrieve the discarded towels. His hands were finally steady, but his insides were still shaking. He dropped down into the chair and held the towels to his face, inhaling the fragrance of her shampoo, her soap, her.
He looked up when she came into the room. Her hair was brushed and she was wearing a light blue T-shirt that barely covered her bottom. When she walked, a hint of white showed from beneath. She peeled back the covers on the bed and slid between the sheets.
He stretched out in the chair. “It’s probably better if I stay here.”
She laughed and the sound was as warm as sunshine. “Isn’t that a bit like locking the barn door after the horse ran away?”
Her smile was infectious and he returned it easily. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
She patted the bed beside her. “You’ll be better off if you sleep here. And if it puts your mind at rest, I give you my solemn word I won’t be running out on you tonight. I don’t have the energy.” With her back to the center of the bed, she lay down and tucked a hand under her pillow.
Slowly, Jeff stood and turned out the bathroom light. He undressed in the dark, stripping to his underwear, then crawled in next to her. The bed was only a double; much smaller than the king-size bed they’d had on St. Croix. But size didn’t matter. Being away from her did—whether it was a few feet or a thousand miles.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She turned, sighing as she snuggled against his chest. Like it or not, accept it or not, she was part of him. The best part. And finding her again was like finding the other half of himself.
Sleep clung to her like wet wool, thick and heavy, and Caroline struggled to force it aside. She rolled onto her stomach and stared at her watch. Almost seven—she lifted the window curtain above the bed—in the evening. She’d slept through the entire day. And if her growling stomach hadn’t wakened her, she might have slept right through the…
Trial.
She glanced from the empty spot beside her to the bathroom. The door was ajar and the shower was running. She staggered out of bed and into her clothes as the flood of memories washed away the dregs of sleep. Last night had meant everything—and had changed nothing.
More than ever, she was determined to finish this alone. Davis wanted her dead. Davis would kill anyone who got in the way. It was as simple as that. And she couldn’t…wouldn’t risk Jeff’s life.
She grabbed her nylon jacket and slipped out the door.
“Good morning.” Mac looked up at the moon. “Or is it good night?” He tossed a small stick to the puppy.
“Whatever,” Caroline muttered, cursing herself and fate and just about everything else.
“You hungry?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “When Jeff gets out of the shower, we ought to get some breakfast…or dinner.”
She spun around. “How did you know he was in the shower? No,” she said, “don’t answer that.” As he’d promised, Jeff wasn’t going to give her any opportunity to slip away.
“Looks like I’m the last one,” Jeff said, sauntering out of the room. A smug smile danced across his face. “I’ll turn in the keys and then we’ll hit the road.”
Half an hour later, they stopped to eat. The place was billed as a family restaurant—nice but not fancy. A waitress showed them to their table. “Here you go,” she said, handing each of them a menu. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order.”
Caroline leaned back in her chair and opened the menu. Breakfast items on the first page, lunch on the second, dinner on the-She stared at the small white paper clipped to the top of the third page.
GO TO THE PHONE. NOW.
She closed the menu and looked around the restaurant. A few late diners, but nothing out of the ordinary.
“Get a load of these specials,” Mac said. He tapped the small white paper clipped to his menu. “Meat loaf, liver and onions, turkey and dressing. That’s what I call real food. None of that tofu bean-sprout stuff.”
Caroline opened her menu and looked again. No meat loaf. No liver. No turkey. She swallowed hard.
“Are you ready to order?” the waitress asked. She put three cups of coffee on the table and pulled a pad and pencil from the pocket of her apron.
“Meat loaf with the works,” Mac said, “and Dutch apple pie for dessert.”
“I’ll have a ham-and-cheese omelet, pancakes, and hash browns,” Jeff said.
“And you, miss? Miss?”
Caroline stared at the waitress. She was perfectly composed, calm, her face revealing nothing as she waited for Caroline to place an order.
“Caroline?” Jeff nudged her arm.
“Sorry,” Caroline said. “What’s your soup today?”
“Bean with bacon and clam chowder.”
“I’ll have the chowder and an avocado-and-tomato sandwich.” She closed the menu and held it out to the waitress. The woman finished scribbling on her pad, then tucked all three menus under her arm.
“By the way,” Caroline said. “Where’s the ladies’ room?”
The waitress pointed to two doors at the far end of the restaurant. A waist-high partition stood in front, dotted with potted plants. “Right behind that half wall. The one on the right.
” She turned to leave, but Jeff grabbed her arm.
“Are there windows in there?”
The woman’s brows drew together. “No. Why?”
Jeff grinned. “Just curious.”
The waitress left, and Caroline looked scathingly at Jeff. “Do I have your permission?”
Jeff nodded. “Be my guest.”
Taking her time, she pushed away from the table and walked slowly toward the back of the restaurant, looking for the phone. It could be a trap, an ambush. But if something was going down, she didn’t want Jeff or Mac anywhere near it. She had rounded the half wall before she spotted the phone, in an alcove at the far end of the hall. She could feel Jeff’s eyes on her back, watching her every move. Wiping the smile from her face, she leaned into the ladies’-room door, pushing it open as far as it could go. The room turned sharply to the right.
Caroline let go of the door, took one step around the corner, dropped to her knees, and scooted back out the door before it closed. Crouching below the wall she hurried to the pay phone. It rang the moment she stood.
She reached for it, then stopped. What if it was Brian’s voice? Or Alden’s? She steeled herself, prepared for the worst.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Caroline. This is Augie Davis.”
Of all the voices she expected to hear, his was the last.
“How did you know I was here?” she asked. Her voice cracked and she cursed the fear that made it happen.
“I know many things,” he said. In contrast to her squeak, his voice was a smooth purr. The same purr she’d heard in the library. The purr of a tiger before it strikes.
“What do you want?”
“I want to talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Oh, but I have a great deal to say to you.”
“Then you may say it in court, Mr. Davis. Goodbye.”
“I wouldn’t be so hasty to end our conversation, Caroline. Or should I call you…Mrs. McKensie?”
Her insides started shaking like a leaf blowing in the wind.
“Yes.” He chuckled. “I thought that would get your attention. It’s wonderful to be married. It’s even more wonderful when you’re in love. Your father loved your mother very much. Did you know that? And love makes people do all sorts of…unpredictable things.”
