Beholden (34 page)

Clenching his jaw tightly, Luke watched Bob turn the Explorer around, then start down the snowy path. For long minutes afterward,
he stood staring after them, his thoughts murky. Finally, he turned and slowly walked back to the cabin.

Inside, Terry let the drape fall back into place on the window and walked over to the couch. She’d watched Luke and Bob argue
for some time alongside the rented Explorer. Two tall, guarded, implacable men. The casual observor might not have thought
from where she stood that they were arguing. But she knew the signs—the rigid stance, the subtle shifting of weight from one
foot to the other, the intense eyes that could intimidate so easily.

They’d been arguing about her, she was certain. Perhaps about the incident where she’d run away. Or maybe on how to handle
her as their only witness, how to keep her from leaving again before that nebulous court date. But more likely, they’d been
arguing about her relationship with Luke. She’d seen Luke’s back stiffen out there, seen his defensive look. Bob had probably
been even more blunt with Luke than he’d been with her.

Luke came in, stomping snow from his shoes, then stepping out of them. He tossed his jacket onto the chair and walked to the
fire, rubbing his hands together. “Damn cold out there.” He turned and saw the speculative look on her face. “Are you all
right?”

“Fine.” She watched him sit down beside her, wondering if he’d tell her what he and Jones had talked about if she asked.

Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the fireplace. To his annoyance, Luke found himself wanting her desperately just
that quickly. It had been hours since he’d held her
in his arms out in the snow. Do you know what you’re
doing
? Bob had asked. Hell, no, came the answer, more truthfully now. He turned to scowl back at the fire.

“I guess your conversation with Bob wasn’t too cheery,” Terry finally said, hating the sudden tension in the room. When his
frown deepened, she decided she’d hit the nail on the head. Perhaps she could distract him, seduce him out of his mood. “Why
don’t you kiss me?”

“I’m all cold.”

“I don’t care. Kiss me anyhow.”

He knew he shouldn’t, yet he couldn’t resist her. He pulled her close, both pleased and frightened that she seemed to want
him every bit as much as he wanted her.

Long, breathless moments later, Terry pulled back to look at him. She saw a hunger in his eyes that was as deep as her own.
Then he frowned again, and she saw caution overshadow his need. “Maybe we should talk,” she suggested, which wasn’t at all
what she really wanted to do.

“About what?” He bent to nibble on her neck. God, she smelled so good. He didn’t want to think, didn’t want to talk. He wanted
to lose himself in her while he still could.

“You got a lecture out there, didn’t you? From Jones. About me.”

He’d caught her determined look and knew she wasn’t going to drop this. “He worries too much.” Luke sat back, thrusting his
legs toward the fire. “He’s like an old woman, always fretting.”

“Please don’t joke about this. Am I a problem for you, Luke?”

The biggest one he’d ever tackled. “What did he say to you? What did he ask you?”

“He didn’t ask in so many words, but he guessed that we’re more than just friends.”

Luke felt his temper rise. “I hope you told him to go to hell for prying.”

“I told him the truth.”

“Shit!”

“Should I have lied? He’s worried that I’ll keep you from doing your job, that I’ll distract you and we’ll both be hurt.”

Luke swallowed down his temper and tried to put things in perspective. Nothing had really changed. “If you knew Jones better,
you’d realize he worries about everything from the ozone layer to the national debt to the escalating cost of orange juice.
Don’t you know that most things we worry about never happen? It’s the things we never give much thought to that knock us for
a loop.”

“You can say that again, like leaving work and witnessing a friend’s killing that changes your entire life.” Terry sighed.
Always, it came back to that.

He hated that haunted look that took over her eyes. “That pretty much threw a monkey wrench in my plans, too. There I was,
happily puttering around my ranch, fixing sagging porches, laying tile on the patio, talking to my faithful dog when along
came Jones and begged me on bended knee to take on this case. To interrupt my vacation to watch over this beautiful damsel
in distress.”

Terry had to smile at that. “Oh, and wasn’t she beautiful? Battered, beaten, burned, and bald. No wonder you dropped your
life for this knockout of a woman.”

“Damn, there she goes, fishing again.” He scooted over, turning her into his arms. “I happen to like bald women. Would you
shave your head if I asked you real nice?”

Nearly nose to nose with him, she decided to let him elevate her mood. She slid her hands into his thick hair. “No, but I
think if we don’t cut yours soon, we’ll have to put it in a ponytail. Or braid it. Something.”

“Do you know how to cut hair? It’s not exactly as if I can leave you here and run down the mountain to find a barbershop.”

“I’ve been known to whack away at mine a time or two. Want me to try yours?”

He shivered as her fingers massaged his scalp. “Maybe
later. Right now, I have more important things in mind.” He dipped his head and tasted the satin smoothness of her throat.

She let out a sound, half sigh, half moan as his lips moved up to capture her ear. “What are you doing? It’s broad daylight,
the middle of the afternoon. We’re in the living room. Shouldn’t we at least move into the bedroom?” Perhaps it was Jones’s
visit that had her feeling so suddenly proper.

“Stop being so Catholic school conventional, Theresa Anne. Who cares what time it is? Who needs a bed?” He slid onto the floor,
taking her with him, cushioning her slide onto him before he rolled her over and looked down into her surprised eyes. “No
one’s watching. It’s okay.”

“But what about Bob’s warning?” She dared him to deny it.

Instead, he chose to ignore it. “Screw Jones and the horse he rode in on.” Moving down her, he settled his mouth on the peaks
of her breasts through the silk of her blouse.

She felt the urgent rush of heat, but her practical side was still in charge. “Hey, this is the only decent blouse I presently
own.”

Leaning back, Luke gripped the front of her blouse and gave a powerful tug. The buttons went flying and she was exposed to
his hungry eyes.

Terry cried out a shocked protest. “You’ve ripped my favorite blouse.”

“I’ll buy you another one.” Working quickly, he yanked off the ragged blouse and the rest of her clothes. Wearing only firelight
and the St. George’s medal, she lay before him, breathing hard and looking beautiful. Her eyes were deep blue pools, aroused
and aware, watching his every move. “You’re incredible and you damn well know it.” If only that’s all it was, her looks, his
lust. He could get past that. But it was far more than that that he couldn’t let go of. The essence of her, this surprising
woman who’d so effortlessly turned his world upside down.

He placed his hands on hers and stretched her arms upward, then lowered his head to feast on her breasts, circling and tasting
each erect peak until her skin was flushed and her body shimmering with need.

Bob’s words echoed in his fevered brain.
You never should have touched her
. The chief was absolutely right. Only now, he couldn’t stop. She was like an addiction, a craving, an obsession. He wanted
to kick the habit, knew that the best thing for him and for her would be if he could. Yet he couldn’t turn away from her.

His hands moved down her, skimming over heated flesh. She was moving restlessly now, soft sounds coming from low in her throat.
His lips trailed lower, a dizzying journey. Guessing his motive, her body arched as his mouth settled on her.

In moments, she cried out with the power of it, the swift intensity of it. She closed her eyes as the afterwaves buffeted
her and her pulse pounded with the force of her release.

Slowly, Luke moved back up, wanting to read her reaction in her eyes. The fact that they were filled with shocked pleasure
shouldn’t have pleased him so damn much. He stood and quickly pulled off his clothes, lowering to her moments later.

Her chest still heaved as her breathing slowly normalized. She had never known anything quite like this with another man.
She reached up to touch his face. “How can I fight the way you make me feel?” The question was a husky whisper.

“Why do you have to?” he asked, kissing her eyes closed.

“Because one day you won’t be with me anymore.” It wasn’t whiny, or accusatory or complaining. It was stated as fact.

He had no answer he could give her. Instead, he knelt, then slipped slowly inside her. He took her mouth in a kiss filled
with passion, charged with need, tinged with sadness.
He moved with gentle care, with infinite tenderness, giving her physically what he couldn’t give her otherwise.

He held back, watching her give herself up to the sensations, needing to see the changes he could bring about in her. This
time she climbed slowly, yet he knew the second she was about to explode. Finally, his vision blurring, he let himself join
her.

It wasn’t until long minutes later when he raised his head that he noticed her cheeks were damp with tears.

Nick Russo was wet, tired, and hungry. He’d been driving back from California in a blinding rainstorm after weeks of a fruitless
search for some sign of Terry Ryan or Luke Tanner, only to get a frigging flat tire on Highway 10 just outside of Phoenix.
He’d pulled off on the shoulder and tried to get someone to stop and give him a ride to the nearest gas station. But at six
on a dark, chilly February evening, car after car had whizzed by him, the drivers anxious to get home and not giving a damn
if they splashed dirty road water all over him.

Finally, three farmhands in a rickety truck had stopped and told him he could get in the bed of their pickup with their dog
if he wanted to. Cursing elaborately and fighting off the stinking dog and coping with a tailgate that threatened to open
for the interminable half an hour it took to find a station, he’d almost cheered when he jumped off. From there, he’d paid
the attendant to tow in his car and service it, then made a call to one of the guys to come get him. By the time Gino had
deposited him at his apartment, Nick was already sneezing.

It took him over an hour to warm up in a hot shower, get into dry clothes, have a big plate of spaghetti with clam
sauce, and calm down. Now, looking at the phone, he was feeling nervous again.

He hadn’t been in touch with Sam since he’d left town. He’d intended to drive straight through to Florence and visit his brother
on his way back as they’d arranged, but the unexpected storm had slowed him and soaked him. The average guy would understand
normal delays. Sam Russo wasn’t your average guy.

Nick emptied his wineglass, lit a cigarette, and picked up the phone, wondering if they’d even call Sam to the phone this
late. The minutes dragged on, but finally he heard Sam’s terse hello.

“Hey, Sam, it’s me, Nick.”

“Where the hell are you?” At the wall phone in Corridor C where the call had been transferred, Sam’s cool gaze stayed on the
guard waiting and watching him less than ten feet away. He listened to his brother’s explanation of why he hadn’t shown up,
and snorted. “Must be nice, driving for hours in the sunshine, enjoying the view, probably with some broad draped over your
lap.”

Nick blew smoke toward the ceiling and swallowed down his temper. “Didn’t you hear me? It’s raining like crazy. I was alone
and I got soaked through to the skin.” As if to emphasize his point, Nick sneezed.

“I wouldn’t know, little brother. My hotel room don’t have no windows.”

Feeling bad, Nick shook his head. “I wish I could get you out of there, Sam. I tried, for weeks, but nothing panned out in
California.”

Sam’s fist hit the wall with a thud. The guard straightened, sending him a stern look. “Sorry. I slipped.” He turned his back
on the guard and spoke low into the mouthpiece, his voice muffled. “You tell the man he’s got two weeks, till the fifteenth
of February. Nothing happens by then to spring me, I start singing.”

“That ain’t gonna get you out, Sam.”

“Maybe not, but I’ll go down with company. Either he does something or you locate the lady. My final offer.”

“What? Tell me what else I can do.” Nick’s voice had become high-pitched in his anxiety. He drew deeply on his cigarette,
trying to calm his nerves. Fleetingly, he wondered if the phones the prisoners used were bugged.

Frustration coiled in Sam’s stomach, turning his dinner sour. “You seen Ozzie?”

“We can count him out. Says he tried, but he’s sick and tired. He’s back south of the border.”

“Shit! That tears it.” Sam turned and saw the guard motioning that his time was up. “Fourteen days, Nickie. Find her.” He
slammed the phone down. Eyes bitter, fists clenched, he marched back to his cell.