Everything But The Truth (13 page)

Reeve could kick himself for telling her in the middle of the night that way. She hadn’t slept a wink after that. Her puffy, bloodshot eyes were proof. The way she’d tossed and turned had him awake most of the night as well.

He needed coffee badly, but first he needed to calm her down. With only a towel draped across his middle, he sat down beside her and took her hands in his. “The last place they’ll look for us is in the city.”

“No.”

“C’mon,” he said, “you know I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Tugging her hands free, she crossed her arms in front of her and started rocking back and forth.

“You’ve been so brave through all this. You’re not going to start caving in on me now, are you?” he asked, searching her face. Or at least he was trying to search her face, but she wouldn’t sit still. He put his hands on her shoulders and massaged some of the tension away, until finally she began to relax.

“I’m never going to have a normal life again, am I?”

“Sure you are. The cops will get these guys. Trust me.”

“And then what? I testify,” she said, answering her own question. “They all end up in jail, and then that monster will hire someone else to kill me.”

“Stop talking like that,” he told her, although Reeve knew she had a point.

“Detective Brozack mentioned the Witness Protection Program.” She tilted her head and met his eyes. “That’s what’s going to happen after the trial, isn’t it? I’m going to walk out of that courtroom and into a totally different life. I’ll never be able to see my parents again, will I?”

He couldn’t lie to her. “I don’t know, Peyton,” he said. “I honestly don’t know.” He’d fallen for her. Hard. The thought of never seeing her again weighed heavily on his heart.

Well, it wouldn’t do any good to tell her how he felt about her. If she happened to be right about the Witness Protection Program, sharing his feelings now would only make things worse when the time came.

Damn, he swore under his breath. As soon as they got to New York, he needed to see Matt. Together, maybe they could figure out a way to get her out of this mess. That would take some doing, because short of killing these guys in cold blood, he sure as hell hadn’t been able to think of anything so far. Just because he’d shot and killed Jameson didn’t mean he could hunt someone down and murder them, not even scumbags like Donatelli and the men who worked for him.

No, murder wasn’t his style. But outfoxing Donatelli…

The idea held promise, and his mind started formulating a plan. Breathing a sigh of relief, he kissed the tip of her nose. “C’mon, get dressed.”

“I
am
dressed,” she said, tipping her head down as if to double check. She’d dressed in her new khaki shorts and the bright yellow T-shirt.

“No, not those clothes,” he said, standing. He made his way to the duffel bag, which sat in the corner of the room, and dug out the red leather skirt and skimpy tank top she’d worn the day she’d limped into the tavern. “These.”

Her mouth opened wide. “But—”

“Peyton, were you dressed in these clothes the day you saw Donatelli’s men kill Father Micelli?” he asked, nodding at the skirt and top he was holding.

“No.”

“Exactly. So, they won’t be expecting to see you in them.”

Her expression registered that she understood. Holding out her hand, she took the items from him and smiled weakly.

“Good girl. If you hurry, I’ll even treat you to a huge breakfast.”

She looked skeptical. “You’re not going to be embarrassed sitting across the table from me in a restaurant?”

Grinning, he said, “Not at all, sweetheart. I’ll be too busy fantasizing about you stripping out of those clothes later. Maybe I’ll even be able to talk you into doing another little dance—” His words came up short as a pillow smacked him in the face.

****

While Reeve dressed, Peyton changed her clothes. The black sheer stockings she’d worn with the leather skirt were snagged pretty badly, but they’d have to do.

Seams ran along the backs of the legs and she needed to get them straight. Trying to concentrate on what she was doing was difficult with Reeve standing in the center of the room, gloriously naked. He certainly wasn’t the modest type. Staring at him wouldn’t help matters. She might find her bold streak again and attack him, and then they’d end up in bed together for the rest of the day. As much as the idea appealed to her, she knew he wanted to leave soon.

She didn’t want to go back to New York. She just wanted to stay in this cheap motel room wrapped in Reeve’s arms for the rest of her life. Yet, she agreed with him; the last place they’d probably look for her was in the city. At least she hoped so.

He hadn’t tried to tell her she would have a normal life, probably because he knew she was right. They’d never leave her alone if she testified. Her only recourse would be to assume a new identity. She sighed, smoothing one stocking over her leg and thigh.

If only she could call her parents and tell them she was all right. That would help ease some of her concerns. Her eyes darted toward the phone on the nightstand. No, that wouldn’t be smart. She could actually put them in danger.

But if Donatelli and his guys knew who she was—and it was obvious they did since they had her purse with her ID—they could easily find her parents.

Alarm bells went off in her head. That was something she hadn’t thought of before. What if those madmen hurt her mother and father?

She needed to warn them.

“What’s wrong?” Reeve asked, concern etched across his brow.

“Nothing,” she said, quickly pushing her foot into the second stocking and pulling it up. “I was just thinking about how hungry I am.”

“For someone so thin, you certainly have a big appetite.” He sat down on the bed beside her and pulled his boots on.

“My mother used to say the same thing. She said if she ate half as much as me, she’d be as big as a buffalo.” Shrugging, she said, “I must have a fast metabolism.”

Standing, he went to the window, peeled back the drapes and stared out. “There’s a car in the corner of the lot over there with a flat tire. Looks like it’s been sitting there gathering dust for some time. I’m going to switch the plates with Jameson’s SUV, just in case anyone is looking for it.”

“What if someone sees you? Isn’t that against the law?”

“Yeah, but so is stealing a car. Don’t worry. It looks like there’s only one other guest here, and I doubt they’ll be up this early. Stay put. I’ll be back shortly.”

Peyton finished dressing, then applied more make-up than necessary. She teased her hair, fluffed it, and then stood back to admire her handiwork in the mirror. She didn’t look anything like herself, which was the idea. Besides, the get-up had worked once already at the bus station.

Walking to the window, she peered out and saw Reeve kneeling on the ground behind a beat up old car, the one with the flat tire. She eyed the telephone again, telling herself to forget about calling her parents. Then an idea came to her. What if she had a friend call them?

Without wasting any more time, she hurried to the nightstand, grabbed the receiver and punched in a number she remembered. 555-JADE.

Jane answered on the second ring. “Speak to me,” she said in a sleepy voice.

“Jane, it’s me.”

“Peyton, where are you?” Jane squealed.

“Never mind. I’m safe, but I need you to do me a favor.”

Chapter Thirteen

After parking the SUV in the underground parking garage, they took the elevator to the hotel lobby. They’d had breakfast at one of her favorite places, although she hadn’t been able to eat much when her food arrived. Worrying about her parents had her stomach in knots.

If Reeve had any idea she’d called Jane, he’d probably strangle her, but she didn’t care. She had to get a message to her parents. She only hoped it wasn’t too late.

When the elevator doors opened, her sense of dread began to increase. She took a quick glance around, half expecting to see guns pointing at her, then breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t see anyone who looked even faintly familiar.

There were dozens of people milling about. Business men and women, tourists, and hotel employees. None of them seemed to pay any attention to her, or the way she was dressed.

The clicking of her red heels echoed throughout the old marble and brass annex as Reeve took her hand and led her to the registration desk.

“I’d like a room, please,” Reeve said to the bald man behind the desk. The name tag on his navy blazer read Ralph Peters.

Clearing his throat, Ralph typed something on the computer keyboard, then, raising his hooded, hawk-like eyes, speared Reeve with a chilling look. “I’ll need a credit card,
sir
.” The man obviously didn’t care for the fact that Reeve, who was dressed in seedy jeans, had brought a hooker into his establishment, but he certainly wasn’t going to refuse their money.

Dropping her hand, Reeve reached into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out a wad of bills. “Sorry, I don’t have one, but I’m sure you take cash.”

Peyton knew he was lying about the credit card, but that was because he planned to use a phony name.

Ralph’s eyes shifted toward her, then back to Reeve. Mumbling something that sounded like a yes, he asked if they’d like a smoking or non-smoking room.

“Non-smoking would be great.”

Reeve filled out the registration card with a phony name and address and handed it back to Ralph.

“Shall I ring for a bell-hop?” the man asked, almost snickering.

She wanted to smack him on the head.

“No, thanks. We can manage,” Reeve said, waving the canvas duffel bag at him.

Ralph seemed surprised that they had luggage. He handed over a key and pointed them in the direction of the polished brass elevator doors.

“Jerk.” Both she and Reeve mumbled the word at the same time.

Their room was located on the fourteenth floor, which she knew was really the thirteenth. Because so many people were superstitious about staying on the thirteenth floor, she knew many hotels skipped it altogether, including this one.

But it was still the thirteenth. The bad luck floor.

Shuddering, she tried not to think about it as they made their way down the corridor.

“This is it,” Reeve said, pushing the card key into the door slot of room 1413. Even the room number had a thirteen in it.
Jeez, how much worse could it get?
It’s a good thing I’m not superstitious, or am I?

He flipped on the light, held the door open for her, and she walked inside, hearing the rattle of the chain lock and the dead bolt clicking into place.

The room was done in dark colors of burgundy, navy and forest green.
Why couldn’t it be pink or yellow?
Something cheerful to take her mind off her troubles.

Well, she thought, dropping to the king-sized bed, at least it didn’t smell like smoke or BO like their last room. And unlike the dingy room in the motel, there was a desk, complete with hotel stationary and a pen. Not that she’d be writing any letters.

Reeve walked over to the window and said, “There’s a nice view of Times Square.” Then he turned on the pole lamp in the corner of the room and pulled the drapes shut. So much for the view.

He came to stand almost in front of her. “Are you hungry? There’s an honor bar. I’m sure it’s loaded with all kinds of snacks and junk food.”

She shook her head.

“You hardly ate anything at breakfast.” He picked up the movie selection pamphlet and scanned it. “We could watch a movie,” he suggested, pointing to a horror flick that he obviously wanted to see.

Reeve had seemed so concerned over her the last two days. She almost liked it better when they’d been fighting and arguing. At least then, she couldn’t have cared less whether she ever saw him again. But now, once this was over, that was probably what would happen, and she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

She could think of only one way to get her mind off the bad stuff, and that was to lie in his arms, naked. Lifting the hem of her skirt, she rolled one elastic-top stocking down her leg and kicked it aside, then did the same with the other one. Standing, she unzipped her skirt, let it slide down her hips and thighs, and stepped out of it.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his eyes roaming her body.

“Getting naked.”

She lifted the tank top over her head and tossed it next to the skirt on the floor, then unclasped the hook of the black lacy bra.

Reeve grinned. “We can always watch a movie later,” he said, tossing the pamphlet on the desk. “What you’re doing looks much more interesting.”

Peyton smiled inwardly, loving the way she could get him excited. And he was definitely excited, she thought, noticing the growing bulge in the front of his jeans. Gingerly, she laid the bra aside. No more slingshot tricks for her.

Clasping her hands in front of her, she looked up at him expectantly.

He lifted one brow and searched her face. “Aren’t you going to take off the panties?”

“What?” she asked, then said, “Oh, those. I thought I’d wait for you to catch up.”

He smiled. “You’re embarrassed.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You didn’t take them off last night either. I finally had to, remember?”

Of course, she remembered.

“Besides,” he said, moving toward her and tilting her chin up, “your face is almost as red as your hair. You don’t need to be shy with me.”

She knew that. Moistening her lips, she stared up into his face.

His expression stilled and grew serious, determined, his dark eyes gleaming like glassy volcanic rock.

“Take them off,” he said, “so I can taste you.”

Her insides tingled at the suggestion. She felt her face brighten even more. Her knees weakened and she could barely stand. Hooking her thumbs in the waistband, she yanked the scrap of black silk over her hips and let them fall.

After taking a few steps backward, his gaze swept approvingly over her naked body before meeting her eyes. “Do you have any idea how badly I want you right now?”

Unable to stop herself, she glanced at his fly. “I sort of have an idea.”

He laughed and came to her. Parting her lips, she raised herself to meet his kiss. It was urgent, exploratory, needy, and she loved it. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she silently begged for more, shocked by her eager response. He didn’t disappoint her.

One large masculine hand found her breast and nipple, the other pulled her hips to meet his. His jeans-clad thigh probed at her, until she had no choice but to open her legs. Instantly, she felt the passion rising in her, clouding her brain, as she rode him.

He pinched her nipple, just hard enough to make her gasp with pleasure. Her lips quivered and tiny little moans escaped the back of her throat as he drew her to an uncontrollable height of passion.

“Oh, Reeve,” she cried out when she couldn’t take anymore. “Make love to me. Please.”

“That’s what I’m doing, sweetheart.”

His warm hands explored her buttocks, kneading and pulling her closer to him, closer to the point of no return. Until she exploded against his thigh.

She whispered his name as waves of ecstasy throbbed through her, and then she fell backward onto the bed. Looking up at him looming over her, she offered him a faint smile. “That was wonderful. Thank you.”

He laughed again. “I’m not through with you yet. Spread your legs for me.”

Feeling wanton and totally uninhibited now, she opened her legs wide as Reeve knelt between her thighs. The touch of his hot moist tongue had her body arching off the bed, eager to meet his mouth. Although he’d shaven that morning, his beard stubble scraped against her skin, and the flames of passion kicked up again, like the hottest fire burning deep inside her.

“Come for me again, Peyton. I want to feel your orgasm against my mouth.”

Grabbing onto the bedspread, she held on as he, once more, rocked her world out of control. This time she screamed his name with her climax.

Reaching for his face, his hair, clawing at him, she said, “Please, Reeve, I need you inside me. Now. Hurry.”

“Well, sweetheart, if you’d let go of my ears, I might be able to oblige you.”

His ears?
Peyton lifted her head, glanced down and let her hands fall away. She’d had no idea what she’d been clutching. “Sorry.”

He got to his feet and began tearing his clothes off as he moved across the room to the duffel bag. One boot on, and one boot off, he hopped his way back to the bed and sat down. Moments later, he was as naked as she, except for the condom that covered his swollen manhood.

In an instant, he was deep inside her and thrusting, his expression a mixture of pleasure and pain. “Are you with me, sweetheart?”

She couldn’t possibly climax again. Or could she? But then she was hurtled to a place so wonderful, so mind numbing.

“Yes!” she screamed and felt herself spiral out of control. Reeve was right behind her.

****

Reeve had never watched a horror flick buck naked before. But here he sat, propped up in bed by pillows, shoulder to shoulder with Peyton, both of them naked as the day they were born.

She was still blushing, even after making love and showering together. Or maybe the pretty pink stain on her cheeks and neck was from all the orgasms she’d had. She’d had two before he’d ever entered her, and one with him deep inside her while he’d stared into her eyes. Then she’d climaxed again, when he’d asked her to get on her hands and knees and he’d entered her from behind. After that last time, he’d almost blushed himself. Whatever the reason for the pretty pink color, he found it endearing.

What wasn’t so pretty was the razor burn he’d left on her skin. Her cheeks, breasts, stomach, and inner thighs were covered with dark pink marks, evidence of their lovemaking. But she hadn’t complained when she’d looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. Instead, she’d smiled like a woman who’d just been thoroughly loved. Which she had.

A loud crunching sound interrupted his sexual thoughts. “Give me some of those,” he said, trying to get the jar of macadamia nuts from her.

Twisting away from his reach, she said, “Get your own jar.” She popped another nut in her mouth and crunched again.

“That is
my
jar. You ate the other one, and you didn’t share any of those either.”

“I’m sorry, but macadamias are my favorite. It’s been years since I’ve had any.”