CAPTURED INNOCENCE (10 page)

             
Conley stood so close behind her she felt his body heat. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. His breath stirred the hair behind her ear and sent shivers down her spine. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

             
She turned and bumped her nose on his chest. Without looking up, she said, “I have to tell you something. I need to tell you who Alex’s father is.”

             
“Okay.”

             
She led the way farther into the room and sat cross-legged on the bed, tucking the bottom of her dress beneath her.

             
“May I?” Conley gestured to the spot next to her.

             
She nodded as he lay on his side and propped his head on his hand.

             
“You don’t have to tell me anything.”

             
“I know, but you deserve to know why I’m so prickly. Why I pull away from you so much. Why I jump when you touch me.”

             
“I thought it was my animal magnetism.”

             
She tilted her head and glared. How could he joke when she was trying to be serious?

             
“Sorry. I’m a stranger. I get it.”

             
“It’s more than that.” She shook her head and stared into his eyes. He smiled. One corner of his mouth hitched, inviting her to confide in him.

             
“There’s a lot I don’t remember from the years before I married Blake. Parts of it are dark. Things I’ve blocked out, I guess.” She took a shaky breath. “My mother’s brother, my uncle, is named Dave.” Jo ran a hand through her hair. “This is difficult.”

             
Conley reached over and engulfed her hand with his. “You don’t have to tell me.”

             
“My uncle had been ‘visiting’ me for as long as I can remember,” she blurted. If she thought about it, paused, she’d never get the words out. “Every time he visited, I’d freeze up. Do whatever he told me to.” Her words faded to a whisper. “He said he’d kill me if I told anyone. Alex is his son.”

             
“Do your parents know?”

             
She shook her head. “I never told them. I didn’t think they would believe me.” She rose from the bed. She walked to the window and parted the curtains to peer out. What if Black had sent someone to follow them back to Prestige? “You see how they are with my ex-husband. They’ll believe anyone over me. My mother just believes I was a wanton teenager, forsaking everything she’d taught me.”

             
Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I feel like a weak idiot. Letting it continue even after I became an adult.” She slapped the window and banged her forehead against the glass. “He frightens me. Even now, after I’ve been gone all these years, Dave and Blake haunt my dreams.” She turned back to face him. “I don’t mean to be cruel to you, Conley. I find it hard to trust people. I went from my uncle to Blake. Blake was my husband, but he acted as if he owned me. Do you know how that can be? I wasn’t his wife, I was his possession.”

             
Conley rose from the bed and wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her close and held her head to his chest. For several minutes she cried silently, listening to the beat of his heart. He who broke the silence. “I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

             
“I wish I could believe that.” She wanted to, but no man had ever proven trustworthy in her life. Conley seemed different, and she realized how useful he could be as her husband when she confronted Blake, but total trust…she wasn’t sure she was capable.

             
“Jo.” He tilted her face up to his. As he lowered his mouth to kiss her, the phone rang. Its shrill brrring separated them as effectively as if someone had stepped between them.

             
Jo walked to the phone, her steps heavy, and lifted the receiver on the fourth ring.

             
“Did I interrupt something, Jocelyn?”

             
“Blake.”

             
“Who is the man in your room?” His cold voice sliced through the phone.

             
“Where are you?” She parted the curtains and peered out into the gathering darkness. “Can you see me?”

             
“No, but my man can. It’s amazing what money will buy. I’ll repeat, Jocelyn, who is the man in the room with you?”

             
“My husband,” she whispered. “He’s my husband.” She slid to the floor and reached to clutch at Conley’s hand. He grasped hers and knelt beside her.

             
“Your husband. Well, well, well. You do work fast. The man in my employ said he’d seen you enter a chapel. I refused to believe it. Your parents will be so disappointed.”

             
Jo listened to his breathing. Her heart laid heavy in her chest. She squeezed Conley’s hand.

             
“Well, I knew the type of woman I married.” Blake’s voice lacked emotion. “The fact you were pregnant when we wed branded you the trollop you seem to be.” He sighed heavily. “I had such hopes for you, my dear.”

             
“Let me talk to Alex.”

             
“I don’t think so.”

             
“Please.” Her words shook. “He’s my son.”

             
“Say goodbye, Jocelyn.”

             
“Mommy.” Her son’s voice shrieked in her ear. “Mommy, where are you?”

             
“Alex.” Jo bolted to her feet, not letting go of Conley’s hand.

             
Blake got back on the phone. “I have the upper hand here, my dear. I suggest you annul your marriage and get back home where you belong.”

             
Click.

             
“I can’t believe he keeps hanging up on me.” Jo stared at the silent receiver in her hand.

             
Conley took the receiver from her hand and placed it back in its cradle. He lowered her to the edge of the bed and stared into her eyes. “Talk to me.”

             
“He threatened me with Alex.” She looked at him. “Told me to say goodbye.” She glanced toward the window. “He has someone watching us. He knows where we are.”

             
“It’ll be all right.” Conley rose and went to the window.

             
A shot ripped through the night, showering them with glass from the shattered window. A woman screamed, high and shrill. At first Jo didn’t realize it was her, but then Conley spun and fell to the floor.

             
Blood welled from a wound in his shoulder. Crimson soaked the blue fabric of his shirt. She dropped to her knees beside him and pulled his head into her lap. What had she done? By marrying him, she’d signed his death certificate. “Conley.”

             
“I’m here.” He struggled to a sitting position. “The bullet just grazed me. I was already turning when he shot.”

             
“Let me see.” Jo pulled at his shirt, popping buttons and Conley laughed. “What’s so funny?”

             
“I’ve always dreamed of a woman ripping my shirt off. Just never thought it would be under these circumstances.”

             
“Very funny.” She eased the shirt from his wounded arm. A deep furrow ran across the flesh of his upper arm. “That’s more than a graze. It’ll need stitches. We’ll have to go to the hospital.”

             
“Can’t.”

             
Sirens wailed in the distance.

             
“We’ve got to go now. Grab your stuff.” He rolled to his knees, holding his arm against his side.

             
Jo frowned. “At least let me wrap it for you. You’re bleeding.”

             
He yanked the pillow case from the pillow and handed it to her. “Tie it around my arm. As tight as you can.”

             
When she’d finished, he pushed to his feet. He rushed to the saddlebag and grabbed a clean tee shirt. He pulled it over his head and grimaced as he pushed his arm through the sleeve. “Hurry.”

             
“What if the shooter is still out there? Let the police catch him.”

             
“We’ll take our chances. If the police get here, we’ll be detained. It’ll take us longer to get to Alex. There will be a lot of questions. Do you want that?”

             
“No, but…”

             
He tossed her the saddlebag and opened the door. With a stern look, he jerked his head toward outside. Without another word Jo rushed outside, leaving Conley to grab their helmets. By the time he joined her, she was seated, saddlebag firmly in place. She slapped the helmet on her head, wrapped her arms tightly around Conley’s waist, and they roared off.

             
Fully expecting a shot in the back, she tensed her shoulders, holding them rigid. The skirt of her dress flew, rising above her waist, blinding her. A horn blared and male voices jeered, only to be blown away on the wind rushing past. Conley glanced over his shoulder and the bike tottered. His shoulders shook as he laughed.

             
Struggling to keep her hold on his waist as they sped through the Vegas streets, Jo released one hand and gathered her dress in front of her. Her temper flared, and she gritted her teeth. She lost her grip on the dress as they careened around a corner. Once again, the dress billowed around her, sending the cool evening air up her back.

             
She sighed, her shoulders relaxing when Conley slowed the bike and drove into an alley. When Jo removed her helmet, she realized he was still laughing and slung the helmet at his back.

             
“Hey! I’m injured.” He removed his own helmet and remained seated and grinned. “As much as I enjoyed the view, and I’m sure others did, I think you’d be more comfortable in pants.”

             
“And
you’re
still bleeding.”

             
He looked down at the spreading stain through the pillow case. “We’ll stop at a drugstore, you can go in, grab supplies, and when we stop again I’ll sit patiently while you nurse me, okay?”

             
“Nurse yourself.” Jo pulled a pair of pants from the saddlebags. As she bent over to step into them a gust of wind blew the dress over her head. Exasperated, she straightened and glared at Conley, daring him to laugh.

             
It didn’t work. By this time, Conley laughed so hard, he snorted.

             
Jo straightened, eyes narrowed. She pulled the pants up and zipped them. “If you’re finished laughing at my demise, we can continue on our way.”

             
“Sure.” He snorted again, replacing his helmet. “Shame to hide that view, though.”

             
She glanced at the stain on his shirt and lifted her chin.

             
“You wouldn’t.”

             
“Wouldn’t I?”

             
“You’re not that mean.”

             
“Aren’t I?” She swung her helmet at him.

             
Conley deflected it with his uninjured arm. “You win,” he said, lowering his face plate. “You have me at a distinct disadvantage.”

             
“And don’t forget it.” She swung her leg over the bike and took her seat behind him.

###

              Conley maneuvered them back into the Vegas traffic and headed toward the freeway. His mind retrieved the image of her barely covered bottom, pale in the gloom of the alley, and he chuckled, catching himself before Jo could pound on his back. That sight was worth taking a bullet for.
He grinned.

             
They stopped at a small drugstore where Jo ran in and returned moments later with a plastic bag. Soon, they pulled into a smaller, more ramshackle motel than they’d been in previously. Conley sent Jo inside the manager’s office.

             
“I got a room with two beds,” she said, sliding on behind him. “It’s on the other side of the hotel.”

             
He nodded. His limbs trembled with fatigue. When he pulled into the empty space before their room, Jo slid off the bike first and scooted under his uninjured arm. “Let me help you.”

             
She propped him against the wall of the building while she inserted the key into the lock and swung the door open. Once again taking his weight upon her shoulders, she helped him into the room and onto the closest bed, stepping back. “This is the ugliest room I’ve ever seen. I thought the last one was bad.”