Cheyenne McCray - Point Blank (Lawmen Book 4) (17 page)

Tears rushed to her eyes, making them watery. The tears she held back made her eyes ache as if the pressure was going to push them out. She buried her face in her hands, afraid she would fall apart, and hoped that Brooks wouldn’t call back. The phone remained silent and she raised her head.

How could she have allowed herself to sleep with him?
A port in a storm.
That’s what it was. After the “incident” at the show, her hotel room being tossed, the dead rat and bloody message, followed by Mark’s call—she had needed to cling to something, someone—and Brooks had been there.

She shuddered as the image of the dead rat invaded her mind and she opened her eyes and raised her head. Getting rid of the rat had been horrible. She didn’t even want to think about how she’d dealt with it. She’d managed to wrap the body in a hotel hand towel and stuff it into a plastic dry cleaning bag that had been in the closet. She’d been ready to throw up, feeling too sick to her stomach to feel bad about using the towel and disposing of it all in the garbage receptacle by the elevators.

A man with a baseball cap had been sitting in a chair near the elevators, reading a newspaper, but he hadn’t paid attention to her. She’d had a brief thought that maybe Mark had sent the man to watch her, but she had been far too overwhelmed to think much about it. She was glad she had cleaned up everything before Brooks arrived at her hotel room door.

She inhaled and then blew out a long, slow breath. She did it over and over again until she had blanked out the image of the rat and the bloody message she’d had to clean up. She stuffed the memory back until it was on the fringe of her thoughts rather than consuming them.

Her night with Brooks replaced the horrible thoughts and her belly tingled. Sex with him had been one of the most intense, incredible things that had happened in her life. His body against hers, his mouth and tongue on her, his cock deep inside. He had filled her in every way, giving her a sense of completion that had made her feel safe and desired.

Words repeated in her mind, over and over.
Yes. A port in a storm. A distraction. That’s all it was.

Yet, a very strong part of her knew that wasn’t the only reason. She shoved the part that wanted him in so many ways into a capsule and tried to bury it in her thoughts. That wasn’t so easy.

What if someone had seen Brooks come into or leave her room? She could have been followed. He was in law enforcement and would know how to avoid being seen… But he couldn’t possibly have any idea what had happened or know she couldn’t chance anyone seeing him around her.

She needed to move to another hotel or to another room—someplace Brooks wouldn’t know about. She couldn’t risk him coming to see her again—ever. People’s lives were at stake and she wasn’t taking chances.

Not to mention it would be good to get out of this room after what had been there for her when she’d come back to the hotel from the show. The vivid images of the rat and the bloody message came rushing back.

Talk and everyone dies.

She swallowed as she picked up the hotel phone and pressed the button for the front desk. Within moments she’d arranged to be moved to another room, after telling the reservations agent that the floor was too noisy. Her one piece of luggage would be moved from her room to the new location while she was at the tradeshow—she just needed to have it ready by the door.

After she’d accomplished that task, she hurried to shower and dress. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning, since she’d found the cocaine, but she didn’t feel hungry. Still, she needed enough time to get something to choke down so that she didn’t get lightheaded during the show.

This time she wore the plainest top she’d brought with her. She put on jeans and tucked her pant legs into her sturdy, functional boots before zipping up the footwear. She had no desire to wear any of her colorful skirts. Color had always made her happy in the past. Now she was nowhere near that emotion. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be happy again.

After she packed, she set her suitcase by the door and shoved her arms into her coat sleeves. She shook her head as she pulled her hair out of the collar, before grabbing her purse and jerking open the heavy door. Her feet felt like lead, and her steps were heavy as she walked to the bank of elevators.

A different man sat in the chair by the elevators, reading a magazine. A chill ran down her spine and she looked away from him. The way he was dressed in ragged clothes and his scraggly appearance, the man didn’t look like he belonged here.

Since when did I become so judgmental?

The answer was right in front of her. The distinct possibility Mark had sent the man to watch her had her questioning everything.

She took the elevator and headed toward the hotel’s front entrance, but couldn’t help looking over her shoulder every now and then to make sure the man wasn’t following her. She walked past the registration desk. She would get a keycard for the new room when she returned.

Cold air stung her cheeks when she walked out, as snowflakes lazily drifted through the air. She zipped up her coat and took in the newly fallen snow beside the salted sidewalks, on top of parked cars, and in mounds covering hibernating bushes in front of the hotel. It all looked so fresh and clean, and it was hard to believe the horrible things that had happened over the past few days. It didn’t feel like anything would be clean in her world again. Mark had polluted and stained her life.

Nothing would ever be the same again.

Last night she had thought about killing the bastard, and in that moment she thought she could do it. Shoot him. Poison him. Hire an assassin to get rid of him. She could almost picture his corpse being hauled off to the coroner’s and the relief she’d feel that he was gone. Gone for good.

She looked over her shoulder, through the glass doors, to see if the man had followed her. A few men and women walked in and out of the entrance, and others sat in the lobby but the man she’d seen upstairs was nowhere around—unless he was good at hiding.

Her mind returned to Mark as she faced forward. She knew she wouldn’t be able to follow through with murder, no matter how bad things got. The idea of killing him had been desperation speaking in her ears. It had been a loud voice that now returned with a fervor that made her shiver.

Or was she more capable of murder than she would admit to herself? Wasn’t anyone capable of doing something so heinous to save his or her loved ones?

For now she had to go along with Mark’s orders. She would do anything for her those she loved.

Anything.

~~*~~

Brooks worked everything through his mind over and over again as he watched the hotel entrance from his truck. He had parked across the street, far enough that he would be able to see Natasha when she came out of the hotel. He was certain she wouldn’t notice him from where he had positioned his truck.

He examined each piece of what had happened in detail—every word Natasha had spoken and every action she had made. He analyzed the fact that she had been followed and a watch placed near her room.

What had spooked her so badly and why was she being followed? He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. The one thing that kept going through his head was that Mark Okle must have threatened her. It was the only reason he could think of that would scare her so badly. She was clearly terrified and Brooks was determined to do something about it, whatever it took.

“Whatever it took” hadn’t meant adding sex into the equation. He’d never intended to go to bed with her, even though he’d been attracted to her. She was his assignment for crissake. He’d intended to nail her for drug trafficking, not nail her in bed.

Would he have had sex with her if he’d believed she was guilty?

No,
he told himself, then wondered if that was a lie.

Guilt in not telling the truth before taking her to bed made him feel as though his gut was lined with lead.

Shit.

Natasha fascinated him in so many ways. Her intellect, her spirit, her laugh, her sense of humor when it came to herself and the situations she’d found herself in.

Only now it was possible she was in a situation where no humor existed. The thought of Natasha’s spirit being repressed made his gut feel even heavier and his body tense. He was going to fix this, whatever it took.

When he finished thinking about every nuance of what he’d seen so far, he placed each puzzle piece in separate mental compartments for later reference.

His heart gave a strange thump as she walked through the hotel doors and into the gently falling snow. She was so beautiful despite the strained expression tightening her features. Fear was there, but anger too. He liked seeing the anger because it meant she wasn’t going to be beaten down by whatever the circumstances were that had her somehow trapped—at least not yet.

Her hair fell over her shoulders, this time not pulled away from her face. The dark brown mass was smooth, not tangled as it had been last night. He had loved how it felt, how his fingers caught in the weight of it as he had cupped the back of her head.

Now the dark hair emphasized her pale features that had been filled with vibrant color yesterday morning before he had dropped her off. Something had happened between that moment and the time she had left the building.

He wanted to climb out of his truck, go to her, and bring her into his embrace. He wanted to hold her tight and take every bad feeling away from her. He wanted to make her feel safe and loved.

Loved.

It was a crazy word considering he barely knew her. Although, after meeting her briefly at the wedding, examining the surveillance photos so often, and everything he had heard about her from Trace and Christie…he felt as if he had known her for a long time. Years even.

“Jesus.” He slammed his palm on the steering wheel hard enough that pain shot to his elbow. “I shouldn’t have fucked her last night.”

Fucking. That was it. He dragged his palm down his face. The word “fuck” rang harsh and wrong when he thought about last night.

Love…
that
emotion didn’t come into the equation, either.

As he watched, she paused to look around her before she turned and headed for the parking lot. She jammed her hands in her pockets, her steps slow, as if she was dreading going to her destination. The first night, when they had talked in the lounge, he’d had the impression that she enjoyed working tradeshows and couldn’t wait to get started on this one. That had clearly changed.

He waited until she drove her rental car out of the parking lot, and he made sure no one followed her. This morning a different man had been sitting near the elevators, and Brooks had been careful to avoid being seen.

When Natasha was driving in the opposite direction of where Brooks had parked, he pulled his truck into traffic and followed her.

Why had he asked her if she was in a relationship with another man? The question had come out of nowhere. A territorial feeling had gripped him and he’d wanted to make sure no other man had a claim on her.

Even though the surveillance information indicated she didn’t have a relationship with any man, for all the agents knew she could have had someone back in Indiana and the pair kept in touch by telephone. They could even have seen each other at the tradeshows she’d gone to.

Damn.
This was getting out of hand. He was obsessing over her and had insulted her in the process. He already wanted her again, craving her in a way he’d never experienced with another woman.

Like his heart would stop beating if he didn’t slide inside her again.

It didn’t take long before they reached the tradeshow location and she entered the parking lot. Her car disappeared from view as she turned right and drove down a row of vehicles. He parked on the street and saw flashes of the car as she hunted for a parking space.

Since no one had followed her from the hotel to the tradeshow, he felt reasonably certain she was safe in the lot. He waited in his truck, the heater blowing out warm air. He kept his gaze focused on the aisle that she would have to walk down unless she wound her way through parked vehicles. He waited for what seemed far too long, and started wondering if she had taken the latter option.

He relaxed as she stepped into the aisle and walked along the right side toward the building. His heart walked toward the building with her.

~~*~~

Natasha couldn’t shake the sensation that she was being watched. From the moment she had left her hotel room, to the time she walked up to the tradeshow building, she felt eyes on her. She still felt them as she stared at the big doors in front of her.

Her thoughts returned to the scraggly man sitting near the elevators on her floor and she shivered. As far as she knew, he hadn’t followed her from the hotel. It was clear her imagination had to be in overdrive. Or was it? Mark had made a point of having her room trashed. It wasn’t beyond him to have her followed. Her throat worked and her stomach bottomed out. If that man had followed her, he could have seen Brooks last night.

Her spine tensed as she passed the K9 officer and avoided his gaze. A small wave of relief washed over her as she entered the building and he hadn’t approached her. Unless he was overly suspicious, because of his K9’s reaction, he had no reason to bother her.

While she walked toward her showroom, she felt as though a yoke weighed her down as she was forced toward a destination she didn’t want to go to. She could almost feel the snap of a whip hitting her from behind and hear the crack in the air.

Gary was back in his showroom. He looked tired and haggard.

She stopped by. “Are you okay?” she asked when he looked up.

“I’m so sorry you were drugged, Natasha.” An angry look crossed his features. “The bartender, Jim, told the police what happened. Mitch told Jim to do it for kicks. I’m ready to kill him.”

Natasha went to Gary and hugged him. “I’m so sorry you were taken to jail.”

He hugged her back. “I’ll deal with him.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Her mind started to slip away from that ordeal. She had far worse things to think about. “I need to get to my booth.”