CAPTURED INNOCENCE (11 page)

             
Two beds with flat gold bedspreads took up most of the space in the small room. One end table sat between the two beds with a wall-mounted lamp hanging over it. Faded, green flowered wallpaper covered the walls, one corner pulling free. A musky smell wafted up from the bedclothes. Conley wrinkled his nose.

             
“Sit up for a minute.” She removed his helmet and tossed it onto the other bed. “Do you need help getting your shirt off?”

             
He shook his head and, arms shaking, pulled the shirt off. He lay back against the pillows as Jo lay out the supplies on the nightstand. The rough fabric of the gold bedspread itched his bare back.

             
She disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a folded towel which she placed under his injured arm. She uncapped the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and poured it liberally over his arm. He hissed.

             
“I almost bought iodine, just to be mean.” Jo winked. “But my compassionate side reared up and wouldn’t let me.”

             
“Thank God you have a compassionate side. I was beginning to wonder.”

             
She dabbed around the wound with a smaller towel. After opening a box of butterfly enclosures, she bent low over his arm. Her hair brushed his chest. Conley drew in a deep breath and inhaled a scent of warm golden tresses and Vegas evening air. She pinched the edges of the wound together and secured them with a few strips of the butterfly tape.

             
“Am I hurting you?” She raised her head. Concerned eyes peered into his.

             
“A little.” Conley cupped the back of her head, gently entangling his hand in her hair, and pulled her closer. “But I know what would make me feel better.”

             
“What?”

             
“This.” He pulled her to meet his lips and lost himself for a moment in her softness. Her lips trembled beneath his, and his heart skipped a beat as she pulled slowly away.

             
“Better?” She took her bottom lip between her teeth, doing things to his insides better left in the recesses of his mind.

             
“Oh, yeah.” He forced his breathing to remain regulated.

             
She got up and pulled a blanket from her bed and covered him. Bending over him, she placed a kiss on his forehead. “You should sleep. You feel warm. Let me get you some aspirin.”

             
“I’m fine.”

             
“I want to.” She disappeared again, this time outside.

             
Conley raised himself to one elbow and waited anxiously for her to reappear. When she did, she carried an ice bucket and two plastic cups, and filled them at the sink. She got two aspirin from the bottle beside the bed and handed them to him, along with one of the cups.

             
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

             
“What?”

             
“I’m sorry.”

             
“I can’t hear you. The bullet must have done something to my hearing.”

             
“Conley.”

             
He laughed. “It’s okay. It was funny, and I won’t deny I enjoyed it, but I shouldn’t have laughed.”

             
“Are we even talking about the same thing?” She perched on the bed next to him. “I would have done the same, if it would have been someone else flashing their nether regions.” She looked toward the window. “But, I’m talking about putting you in danger. Do you think that man followed us?”

             
“I’m sure he did. If not, he knows which way we’re headed. Don’t leave the room again without me. Jo, I’m here of my own accord. Don’t apologize.”

             
“Alex sounded so scared. I wanted to gather him in my arms and hold tight.”

             
Conley reached up and cupped her face with his hand. “We’ll find him. He’ll be all right. Blake put in the newspapers that Alex is home. He can’t let him disappear now without a lot of questions.”

             
Nodding, she stood and put the medical supplies back into the bag. Then she stuffed them in the saddlebags.

             
She moved to the other bed, pulled down the covers then slid fully clothed beneath them. She reached above her head for the chain on the lamp and tugged, plunging the room into the semi-darkness common to cheap hotel rooms.

             
She lay facing him, her eyes shadowed. He wasn’t sure, but Conley thought he saw the glimmer of tears make their way down her cheeks. He ached to rise from his bed and go to her, pulling her close, giving her shelter, but the thought of moving that far made his wound ache.

             
Light glinted off the ring she wore on her left hand and joy rose in him. He was married. Maybe not in the way he thought he’d be, but God willing, Jo would grow to love him.

             
He rolled to his back, folding his uninjured arm and placing it behind his head. Staring at the ceiling, he allowed his thoughts to wrap around the fact they might have rescued Alex and annulled their marriage before her love could grow. The air left him in a rush. His fear of losing her crashed down upon him.

             
“Are you in pain?” Jo’s voice drifted softly across the room.

             
Yes
. “No, I’m fine.” He turned his head to smile at her. “Just sighing. How are
you
doing?”
How are you doing?
Conley felt like punching himself in the head.

             
She giggled. The sound rippled through the room and lifted Conley’s heart on its waves. “I’m fine. How’s the weather over there?”

             
“Dry.”

             
Her laughter held a touch of hysteria, and she wiped her eyes on the corner of her blanket. Within seconds, she sobbed, burying her face in the pillow.

             
Conley tossed his blanket aside. “Come here.”

             
She shook her head. “It wouldn’t be right.”

             
“We’re married. I’m just going to hold you. I’m in no physical condition for anything else.” He patted the bed.

             
Hesitating for only a second, she slid from her bed and into his. He held his arm wide, inviting her to scoot close. When she did, snuggling up beneath his armpit and laying her head on his chest, Conley closed his eyes and worried what the next day would bring.             

              Blake slammed the phone into its cradle and glowered at the boy. Alex scurried to the corner of the room. “Relax, boy. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He strode to the leather chair behind the massive oak desk and sat
. The leather creaked beneath him. He twirled the ball point pen lying on the highly polished surface, then picked it up and brought it to his mouth. He tapped the end of the pen against his teeth.

Married. She
couldn’t marry. She belonged to him. He tossed the pen across the room, bouncing it off the 13 by 20 inch portrait of Jo hanging on the wall. Bolting to his feet, he paced, coming just inches from Alex.

The boy drew his legs closer to his body, and Blake smiled. “Don’t be afraid of me. Without you, your mother would have no reason to return.” He bent over
to bring his face close to the boy’s. “You have a new daddy now. Did I tell you?”

Alex wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin on top of his knees. “I hope he’s nicer than you.”

Blake’s face moved closer, so close, he could feel the boy’s breath on his face. “He won’t be,” he whispered. “He’s tattooed and drives a motorcycle.” He rose and stood before Jo’s portrait. “She married a man so far beneath her, she’ll need a scraper to get him off her shoe.

“But, then, she’s not who I thought she was. She hasn’t risen to my expectations.” He doubled his fist
with the intentions of striking the portrait. Thinking better of it, he spun on his heel and left the boy alone.

The first person his eyes fell upon in the hall was the boy’s new tutor. A quiet, mousy woman. “Alex is in my office. Please remove him then send Rosarita to me.”

“Yes, sir.” The woman scurried past him. “Right away.”

Blake stood, hands clasped behind his back
, and waited for the woman to reemerge with the boy. A thin smile split his face when the boy stopped before him.

“I know who you’re talking about,” Alex
said. “He went to the zoo and bought me and Mommy ice cream. He
is
nice.” The boy stuck out his tongue and followed his tutor down the hall and away from Blake.

White hot anger engulfed Blake. He grabbed a Tiffany lamp from a side table and hurled it to the floor. With a curse, he slammed his fist into the wall. Shaking the pain free, he strode back to his office and picked up the phone.

###

             
The bugs were back. Once again Jo found herself in the dark.

B
ugs crawled through her hair, into her mouth, and dropped from the ceiling above her. This time she found herself bound hand and foot and struggled to get free. She clamped her lips tightly together in order to prevent more of the nasty things from finding their way in. Whimpers escaped her throat.

             
A door opened and light burst through, blinding her. A heavy-set man stood shadowed there. “Are you ready to cooperate?” He advanced. His laugh bounced off the rock walls which surrounded her. He reached out…

             
“Jo.”

             
She screamed and fought the hands that grabbed her shoulders. Her flailing hand connected with something, a face, and she raked her fingernails.

             
“Ow! It’s me, Conley. It’s only a dream. A nightmare. Wake up, sweetheart.”

             
She opened her eyes. Conley’s worried face leaned over her. Red tracks from her nails left shallow furrows down his cheek. She struggled to move only to find her legs entangled in the sheets, and she kicked harder to free herself. “Let go of me.”

             
Conley raised his hands and sat back, his brow wrinkled. “Okay.” He lifted a hand to his cheek.

             
After crawling from the bed, Jo sprinted to the restroom and slammed the door behind her. She leaned her hands on the sink and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Perspiration dotted her forehead and upper lip. Her shirt clung to her shoulders and a trickle of sweat ran down her chest between her breasts.

             
Reaching over, she turned on the cold water faucet, letting it run full blast. Slipping her hands beneath the flow, she cupped them and lifted to bring the water to her face. Her hands shook, spilling some of the water down the front of her. Grunting, she whipped the shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor.

             
Her trembling increased as her stomach heaved, and she lurched toward the toilet, losing everything she’d eaten the night before. With a groan she slid to the floor. She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them.

             
The tile splashed wall behind her was cold on her back and the hooks of her bra dug into her skin. She contemplated moving, then thought otherwise as an attack of weakness came over her and she fell over on to her side, her clothes pillowed under her head. Tightness constricted her lungs.

             
“Jo?” Conley pushed the door open and peered inside. He scooped her into his arms. Murmuring endearments, he carried her to the bed.

He lay her down and went back to the bathroom, reappearing with a damp rag. Perched on the side of the bed, he wiped her face, smoothing her hair back. “What’s wrong?
Where is your inhaler?”

She shook her head and shrugged. “I don’t know. I have this dream sometimes where I’m in this room, it might be a cave, and I’m surrounded by insects. They’re in my hair, my mouth
, and under my feet.” She shuddered. “I’ve never thrown up after having the dream before.”

“Some dream.” He smiled down at her. “How often do you have it?”

“More frequently lately. Used to be I’d only have it a couple of times a month.” Blood seeped from beneath the butterfly enclosures on Conley’s arm, Jo bolted up. “You’re bleeding. You shouldn’t have carried me. You’ve pulled it open.”

“It’s all right.” He glanced down at his arm
and flexed. “It’s not bleeding much.”

“Let me fix it.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and rose, desperate to escape his eyes which seemed to her to search her face, looking for something she couldn’t give. Suddenly conscious of her state of dress, or lack thereof, her eyes widened. “Um…I need my clothes.”