Against the Edge (The Raines of Wind Canyon) (9 page)

Claire thought of all those muscles and that he was a man trained to kill. “Ben, please...”

A heartbeat passed. He let go of Michael’s shirt but didn’t back away.

“Michael’s an old friend,” Claire said, hoping to defuse the situation.

“More than friends,” Michael corrected, pinning her with a glare. “At least we were.”

She turned away from him. “If you wouldn’t mind, Ben, I’d like to speak to Michael alone.”

Ben’s gaze remained locked on Michael’s face. Finally, he shrugged, but the muscles across his shoulders remained tense. “If you need me, you know where I am.” Padding back down the hall to his room, he closed the door.

“You notice he’s sleeping in the guest room,” Claire said as Michael’s dark gaze followed him, “if it’s any of your business, which it no longer is.”

“I’ve been away, Claire, but that doesn’t change the way I feel. I love you. I always have.”

“I thought we’d talked this out, that we both understood each other’s feelings.”

“You said the time wasn’t right. I’m here to tell you that in a few more weeks it will be. I have to go back to Colombia to finish my assignment, but after that, I’ll be back in L.A. We can set a date, get married, start living our lives together.”

Claire just shook her head. “What we had was good, Michael, but it’s over. I’m moving forward with my life. You should do the same.”

Michael reached for her, drew her into his arms. “I need you, Claire.” The door opened and Ben walked back into the living room.

“Time to go, friend. Claire needs her sleep. She’s got important things to do.”

Michael’s jaw tightened but he backed away. “It isn’t over, Claire. I’ll talk to you again when I get back from Colombia.” Turning, he walked out of the apartment and closed the front door.

“Your boyfriend, I take it.”

Claire turned to face him. “Ex-boyfriend.”

“For how long?”

“Five months.”

“He wants you back. That what you want?”

“No.”

“Good.” Claire gasped as he hauled her into his arms and his mouth crushed down over hers in a deep, hungry kiss.

* * *

God, she tasted like heaven. Petal-soft lips, skin damp from the shower and smooth as silk. He’d known he wanted her. Until he saw her with Sullivan, he hadn’t known how much.

His mouth moved hotly over hers, coaxing, possessing. She didn’t push him away, but he could feel her reluctance. He didn’t blame her. This wasn’t part of the plan. Couldn’t be.

Still, when her soft lips parted, he took advantage, his tongue sweeping in, her nipples beading beneath the silk robe, pressing into his bare chest. His arousal strengthened and he went hard beneath the fly of his jeans.

She tasted so good he kept on kissing her, and Claire kissed him back. She wasn’t immune to him. He was pretty sure she’d been without a man since Sullivan left five months ago. She had needs, and Ben knew exactly how to satisfy those needs.

Claire’s tongue slid over his. She leaned into him, pressed herself against his erection. Then she tore free.

Her palms trembled where they rested against his chest. “I’m not...not doing this, Ben. I can’t. I don’t do one-night stands, and we both know that’s exactly what this would be.”

His eyes ran over her, took in her rapid breathing, the hard peaks beneath her robe. “I don’t think I could get my fill of you in just one night.”

He didn’t usually say things like that. It sounded too much like a commitment, but it was true. Claire Chastain intrigued him. And she really turned him on.

“That isn’t the point and you know it. Sleeping with me would mean nothing to you, and once you’re ready to move on, our working relationship would be compromised.”

She was partly right. Their working relationship might suffer and he didn’t want that to happen. He had to think of Sam.

“Look, angel, it was only a kiss. You don’t have to get all bent out of shape about it.”

“Stop calling me that. You’ve probably used that on a hundred different women.”

“Hardly, sweetcakes.” Her hackles went up, and he almost smiled. “Somehow
angel
just seemed to fit.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s a side of you that’s still naive. I saw it the first time I met you. For one thing, just like you said, you aren’t the type for a one-night stand.”

“No, I’m not.”

“All right. So now that you’ve made your feelings clear, why don’t we go to bed?”

“What?”

He laughed. It happened so rarely it surprised him. “I meant in our own rooms.”

Her face colored. “Oh. Yes...well, all right, then.” She glanced at her bare feet. “Good night.” She started for her bedroom, kept walking and didn’t look back.

“Good night, Claire,” he called after her softly. He didn’t tell her that taking her to bed would mean more to him than just sex because he wasn’t sure it would.

He had a hunch, though.

And since those kinds of emotions weren’t things he wanted to feel, Ben hoped his hunch was wrong.

* * *

Claire couldn’t sleep. She kept feeling the heat of Ben’s mouth over hers, the glide of his tongue, the way he took complete control. Not like Michael. Michael’s kisses were warm and sweet, not hot and erotic. She remembered how the muscles on Ben’s chest had rubbed against her, how her nipples had begun to ache and distend. She couldn’t forget the powerful erection that told her how much he wanted her.

Made her want him.

She wasn’t really familiar with that side of her nature, but her response to Ben had proven it was there. She was a woman, more passionate than she would have guessed.

Dear God, how was she going to handle being with him day after day?

Maybe he would back off as she had insisted. Maybe he would realize that she was right and a night of passion wasn’t worth the price. Not when they were both trying so hard to find Sam. Ben was fiercely determined and so was she. She had promised Laura. And she had promised Sam.

Which meant she had to resist her unwelcome attraction to Ben.

As the hours crept past, her thoughts swung from the man down the hall to the boy he’d brought home with him. She kept seeing poor Ryan’s battered face. Then it would turn into Sam’s. She prayed that wherever he was, Sam wasn’t being hurt or abused. She was terrified for him, but the clues were mounting, giving her hope.

Tomorrow they would talk to Eddie Jeffries. Maybe Jeffries could tell them something useful.

Claire prayed it would be so.

Nine

T
he weather changed, turning overcast and cold. A stiff desert wind blew into the L.A. basin, whipping papers along the freeway as Ben drove Claire’s car north. Fortunately, the rush-hour traffic was over and wouldn’t start again till later in the day. Ben made it from the apartment to the Magic Mountain Parkway turnoff in less than fifty minutes.

Keeping her distance all morning, Claire had been quiet most of the way. Now as Ben pulled into the parking lot of the tile-roofed, beige stucco sheriff’s station and turned off the engine, her gaze swung to his.

“I hope he knows something.”

“If he does, I promise you we’ll find out what it is.” Her eyes widened, and he knew she hadn’t missed the threat in his voice. “You ready?” he asked.

Claire nodded. His cell phone rang as they got out of the car. It was the DNA testing lab where he’d left the foam cup and the blood sample from Bridger’s sink.

“No match on Bridger’s DNA,” he told Claire when the call came to an end.

“I guess that’s good news and bad. At least he isn’t a criminal.”

“Or at least not one who’s ever been caught.” Both of them fell silent. When they reached the door, Claire held up crossed fingers. They needed a lead. Ben opened the door, held it for Claire, and they walked inside.

People milled around the visitor waiting area; a pair of sheriff’s deputies walked past.

“Give me a minute,” Ben said. Claire nodded, and he went over to talk to the officer in charge, read the name on the tag on his uniform pocket.

“Deputy Montgomery, my name’s Ben Slocum. I’m a private investigator.” He took out his P.I. badge and flipped it open, showing his ID. “I’d like to talk to one of your prisoners, a guy named Eddie Jeffries. It’s in regard to a missing kid.”

The deputy’s gray eyebrows went up. He was older, seasoned, looked like a no-bullshit kind of guy. “Nothing about a kid in Jeffries’s file.”

“He knows the suspect, the man who may have taken him. I don’t know if he was directly involved in the boy’s disappearance.” Ben tipped his head toward Claire. “The lady’s Claire Chastain. She’s the social worker. I’m the boy’s father.”

The deputy gave him a once-over, his expression going from assessing to sympathetic. “I got kids myself. Mine are grown. How old’s your boy?”

“Nine.”

“How long’s he been missing?”

“Nearly two weeks.”

Montgomery shoved a clipboard across the counter. “The lady’ll have to show ID and you both need to sign in. Leave your cell phones and empty your pockets, then you can come on back.”

“Thanks.”

They took care of protocol then went into the visiting area and waited for a deputy to bring Jeffries out. From what Ben had read on the internet, there were only eleven cells in the jail but the place could hold up to forty inmates. Most were kept in the station until their court dates.

Ben looked up as the door opened and a freckle-faced man with thinning red hair stepped out. According to the deputy, Jeffries was thirty-eight years old. He sat down on the opposite side of the metal table across from Ben and Claire.

“Hello, Eddie. My name’s Ben Slocum. This is Claire Chastain.”

Eddie eyed them darkly. “Yeah? What do you want?”

“We want to know about a friend of yours. A guy named Troy Bridger. Or is it Troy Bennett? I think you knew him as both.”

Jeffries shrugged. He was nervous but trying not to show it. “I don’t know much. I know he quit his job and left town.”

“You know he took my son, Sam, with him?”

Eddie’s complexion went pale beneath his freckles, making them stand out. “I don’t know nothin’ about that.”

“You sure, Eddie? Because if it turns out you knew he was planning to take the boy, you’re an accessory to child abduction. That’s big-time, Eddie, not a measly year in jail for drunk driving.”

Eddie came up out of his chair. “I didn’t know—I swear it! I knew he was mad at that bitch he used to live with.
Laura.
And some damn friend of hers. Woman convinced her to kick him out for no good reason. Troy didn’t take kindly to a woman’s scorn.”

“He thought he was smarter,” Claire pressed. “Right, Eddie? He thought he was superior to a stupid woman.”

Eddie was wise enough not to answer. He just sat back down in his chair.

“You say you didn’t know he took the boy,” Ben said. “But you don’t seem surprised.”

Eddie didn’t answer.

“Remember, my friend, you don’t help us, the cops are going to assume you were in on it. They won’t just be looking for Troy, they’ll be coming here for
you.
”

Eddie’s eyes darted toward the deputy at the door. His hands were shaking. “Troy said something once about the kid. How he needed a father to make him a man.”

Ben’s stomach went cold. “So Troy could have taken him.”

Eddie’s expression turned wary. “You said he did.”

“We think he did. We need to know where he’s going, where he’d be taking the boy.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, Eddie. You knew him better than most. You knew him in Vegas, came with him to L.A. Where was he going after he quit his job?”

“I told you I don’t know.”

Ben leaned across the table, fixed his frigid eyes on Eddie’s pale face. “He was headed to Louisiana to see his brothers. Isn’t that right?”

“Maybe. He was real close with them.”

“What was Troy’s real name?”

“Bridger.”

“Not Bennett?”

“I don’t know.”

Ben rested his elbows on top of the table and leaned a little farther forward. “So he was headed to Louisiana. Which road did he take?”

Eddie swallowed.

“Which road, Eddie?”

The last of the man’s bravado faded. Maybe he recognized just how far Ben was willing to go to make him talk.

“He had a lady friend in Phoenix. Troy had a way with women, you know? At least at first. He’d usually mess it up. Drink too much, slap ’em around. But this one woman, she always took him back. I met her once when we were down there. She was older, maybe late forties, big-titted, redheaded broad. Troy could always count on Lyla.”

“And he would have to go through Phoenix if he was headed for Louisiana,” Claire said.

Eddie just hung his head. “Yeah.”

Her gaze swung to Ben, then back to Eddie. “What’s Lyla’s last name?” she asked.

Eddie’s head came up. He looked resigned. “Holden. Her name is Lyla Holden.”

“You got an address?” Ben pressed.

“No. Eddie and I met up with her in some bar. Now leave me the fuck alone.”

* * *

Claire’s pulse was still pounding when they got back into the car. “Oh, my God, Ben, we know where he’s going!”

Ben started the engine. “If Jeffries is telling the truth.”

“He is. I know it.”

Ben nodded. “I think so, too. He’s already got his ass in a sling. He doesn’t want any more trouble.” As they pulled into the street, Ben stepped down hard on the gas. “Which means Troy could still be in Arizona with Sam.”

“We can fly commercial. There are flights to Phoenix every couple of hours and it’s cheap.”

“Good, I can get a one-way ticket. If Troy’s already left Phoenix and I get any kind of lead, I won’t be coming back.”

“We’re going to follow him?”

“I am. What you do is up to you.”

She cast him a sharp glance. “I’m going. Just give me time to pack my things.”

“First we need a location for Lyla.” When Ben pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, Claire started to tell him it wasn’t safe to talk on the phone while he was driving—and it was also against the law. The look he shot her warned her not to say a word.

“I need an address, Sol. A woman named Lyla Holden. She lives in Phoenix. Bridger may be holed up at her house.”

Claire couldn’t hear, but Sol must have agreed to help locate the woman.

“How about Bridger? Nothing came up on facial recognition?” Ben’s dark look said the answer was no. “Okay, thanks.” He hung up the phone, turned in her direction. “He’ll call as soon as he gets an address.”

“You think he will?”

“If I had to bet, I’d say yes.” Ben kept up his speed and they made it back to the apartment in record time. As soon as they walked through the front door, his cell rang again.

“I’m here,” Ben said into the phone. He walked over to the notepad on the kitchen counter. “Chandler, Arizona, 4523 Armand Drive. Thanks, kid.” He tore off the sheet of paper and headed for his laptop still set up on the kitchen table.

“You go pack what you need,” he said. “I’ll get the tickets.”

“Check Southwest Airlines.” Claire hurried down the hall to her bedroom. “They should have the most flights.” Worried Ben would leave without her if she didn’t move fast enough, she raced into the bedroom and started throwing things on the bed.

When she walked back out of the room towing her carry-on, she had enough clothes packed for a quick trip to Phoenix, or longer if necessary.

Seconds later, Ben walked out of the guest room, his black canvas duffel slung over his shoulder. “We’ve got a one-thirty departure. It’ll be tight, but if we get going, we might be able to make it. If not, the next flight isn’t till five.”

“Then we better hit the road.”

His mouth edged up. “Good idea.”

Despite hustling and getting lucky with traffic, with the extra time it took to get Ben’s pistol through security, they missed their plane.

“Dammit!” Ben turned away from the boarding gate, stalked over to the waiting area and plopped down in one of the empty seats.

“LAX is a busy place,” Claire commented, sitting down beside him. People of every size and shape walked past, some dressed in jogging suits and sneakers like they were out for a morning run, some sporting tattoos and piercings, a few in business suits, all of them in a hurry. Kids scrambled to keep up with their parents, who tugged on their hands or chided them to move faster.

Ben seemed not to notice. Claire could feel the frustration coming off him in waves.

“Maybe we should call the police,” she said, “have them check out the address.”

“If Troy sees cops, he might take Sam and run. Next time it’ll be even harder to find him.”

The minutes crawled past as they sat in the waiting area, Ben working his laptop, Claire on her iPad, checking her email, sending a message to Mary Wilson. She wanted to find out about Ryan, make sure the boy was okay.

It was almost time to board the plane when her BlackBerry started ringing. Claire recognized the caller ID, considered letting it go straight to voice mail, then relented and answered.

“Hello, Michael.”

“Hello, Claire.”

“Michael, I’m kind of busy right now, is there something you wanted?”

“I just wanted to hear the sound of your voice.”

She looked over at Ben, saw him watching her, a scowl on his ruggedly handsome face. “I didn’t expect to hear from you until you finished your assignment.”

“I’m still in L.A. I don’t leave for a couple more days. I thought maybe I could come over and we could talk.”

There was a time she had yearned to talk more openly with Michael. That time was gone.

“I’m just about to get on a plane. I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

A long silence on the phone. “You’re not...with that guy, are you?”

She could feel Ben’s hard gaze boring into her. “We’re working together, trying to find Sam. I told you that, Michael.”

She felt a hand on her shoulder. “They’re boarding the plane. You can talk to your boyfriend later.”

She gave him the same dark look he was giving her. “I have to go. Take care of yourself, Michael.” She didn’t give him time to reply, just ended the call and went over to where Ben waited for her at the boarding gate.

Having missed the first flight, stuck with potluck seating, Claire wasn’t able to sit next to him. Fine with her. She didn’t like the way her attraction to Ben kept surfacing, her heart skipping when those steel-blue eyes met hers, the way she had to try not to stare at his amazing biceps, or the shape of the muscles outlined beneath his T-shirt.

She didn’t want to get involved with him, didn’t want to feel this constant sexual awareness. She told herself in time she would get used to being around him, but it was impossible to convince herself.

After a short hour-and-twenty-minute flight, the plane landed at Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport. Making their way to the baggage claim, Ben picked up the bag he’d been forced to check because of his weapon while Claire pulled her carry-on over to the rental car desk to pick up the vehicle Ben had reserved.

A silver Chevy Tahoe four-wheel-drive SUV waited in the Hertz parking lot. No more compact cars for Ben.

It was after seven by the time they were ready to leave the airport. The sun went down early this time of year and darkness had settled in. Ben threw her bag in the back of the Tahoe, set his duffel down and unzipped it. He took his empty pistol out of its locked travel case, shoved the loaded clip back in and reholstered the weapon. Just watching him made her nervous.

Ben stashed the gun in the console, then punched Lyla Holden’s address into the navigation system. A few minutes later, they were driving out of the parking lot, heading for the I-10 freeway.

The early-October weather was dry and warm, not the burning hot of a Phoenix summer. A slight breeze cleared the air, giving them a view of the barren desert mountains in the distance. The evening traffic wasn’t too bad, thinning as they drove farther out of the city.

The GPS was taking them out to Chandler, an area south of the city. They were making good progress when Ben put on his turn signal and started moving into the right lane.

“Where are we going?” Claire asked, looking at the nav screen, which told them to continue traveling south.

“I saw a sign for a Holiday Inn at the next off-ramp. I’m leaving you there till I get back.”

Claire leaned over and turned off the clicking signal. “No way. I’m going with you.”

“Look, Claire, if Troy’s there with Sam, there’s no way to know what he might do.”

“That’s exactly why you need me.”

He shook his head. “Forget it.”

“I’ll wait in the car. If something happens, I’ll have the engine running and be ready to pick you and Sam up and get you out of there.”