Everything But The Truth (14 page)

He didn’t think she looked sorry at all. “Stingy,” he griped. “You’ll probably put on five pounds eating those.”

She shrugged. “I can afford to. Besides, there’s only three ounces in each of these tiny jars.”

She had a point, he thought, scowling at her. Then his gaze drifted to her naked body. He took in her small perky breasts and her flat stomach. Although he loved every inch of her silky flesh, five pounds wouldn’t hurt her a bit.

“Can I have a sip of your cola?” she asked.

“Why should I share my drink when you refuse to share your nuts?”

Keeping the jar at arm’s length, she said, “Because I just want a sip.”

Staring at the twinkling lights of amusement in her green eyes, he said, “One nut, and I’ll let you have a sip.”

She seemed to be thinking it over, and finally, shook one lonely nut into her palm and handed it to him. He chewed it and swallowed.

“You’re all heart,” he teased, handing her the red can and watching with interest as she tipped her head back and brought it to that amazing mouth of hers.

“Thanks,” she said, then ran her pink tongue along her upper lip to catch the dew. Passing the can back, she settled her naked body next to his once again.

He loved the feel of her smooth skin, and the scent of her freshly showered body. His eyes drifted to the patch of springy honey blonde curls at the apex of her thighs, and he wondered what she’d look like with her natural hair color. Although he’d grown rather fond of her bright red hair.

“Oooh. There’s one of those creatures again.” Pointing to the TV, she did a little body shudder. “They’re so creepy.”

“Well, don’t watch,” he told her, kissing her cheekbone. “Close your eyes.”

Shaking her head, she said, “You’re just trying to get me to close my eyes so you can snatch my nuts away from me.”

That wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, he thought, touching the cold can to her nipple. She gasped, but didn’t move out of his reach. He watched with fascination as it peaked and hardened. Repeating the process with the other nipple, he smiled when her eyes finally closed and her head tilted back.

“Here,” she said, waving the jar in front of him. “You can have them. Just promise me you won’t stop.”

Laughing, he slipped the jar from her fingers and set it, and the cola, aside. “You’re totally insatiable. I love that about you.”

He planted tiny kisses along her neck, throat and shoulders, working his way down to her breasts. With his teeth, he nibbled lightly at her nipples, loving the sound of the little gasps and moans she made.

“Oh, Reeve, can we do it again? I mean can you…” Her eyes opened and drifted toward his erection.

He took her hand, guiding her fingers around him. “What do you think?” he asked, feeling rather full of himself.

She smiled up at him, her fingers stroking along the length of him. “Can I be on top this time?”

Laughing, he said, “I thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter Fourteen

“How long will you be gone?” Peyton asked when Reeve announced he was going out. He said he needed to get in touch with Matt; something about a plan he was working on. She knew it had to do with her situation, but he refused to discuss it with her.

“Not long. You’ll be fine,” he said, tucking his shirt into his jeans. He sat on the bed and shoved his feet into his boots. “I’ll put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door when I leave.”

Refusing to sit around naked while he was gone, she pulled on a clean pair of underwear, and tugged a T-shirt over her head.

A little while ago, he’d tucked a gun under the pillow—the one he called a SIG-Sauer—and he’d given her a quick lesson on how to use it, not that she’d be able to shoot anybody. The mere thought made her sick inside.

After tucking the other gun into the waistband of his jeans, he threw a navy nylon windbreaker over his clothes to hide it.

“Put the chain lock on,” he said, “and the dead bolt. And don’t answer the door for anyone but me. When I get back, we’ll order room service, and then we’ll see if we can work our way through that second box of condoms.” With that, he kissed her briefly on the mouth and headed for the door.

Peyton hurried after him. “Reeve, wait!”

He turned around, his eyes questioning hers.

She wanted to tell him she loved him, but thought better of it. “Be careful,” she said instead.

Smiling, he said, “Lock up.” And then he was gone.

After securing the locks, she rested her forehead against the cool metal door and sighed.

Why had she chickened out at the last moment? Why hadn’t she told him she loved him?

Maybe it was because she wasn’t sure how he felt about her. If he didn’t feel the same way, he wouldn’t welcome a statement like the one she’d planned to make.

After all, he was doing a job. A favor for a friend. And when it was over, he’d be returning to his own life. A life that didn’t include her. Not when she’d probably be forced to assume a new identity.

It wouldn’t be fair to ask Reeve to go with her—wherever it was she’d be going. It especially wouldn’t be fair to his son. Kevin had a life in Albany. A cousin, school friends, soccer buddies. She couldn’t ask a child to give all that up and become someone else. Even if Reeve
did
happen to love her.

Refusing to cry, she picked up the remote and flipped through the channels of the TV, trying to find something to distract her. After surfing the channels twice and still finding nothing to hold her interest, she hit the power button. Except for the quiet purr of the air conditioning, the room grew silent once more.

She had to think of something to do while he was gone, or she’d go crazy. What did she usually do when she was bored, or trying to keep her mind off something?

She’d love to paint her nails, but she didn’t have any polish.

Or she could always read, but she didn’t have anything to read; not a book, not even a magazine.

She could take a hot bubble bath and try to relax, but there weren’t any bubbles.

And she certainly couldn’t bake cookies.

“Darn!” she swore, stomping her foot on the carpeted floor.

And then the tears came.

It was the first time she’d cried since all this had happened. She’d been too scared to cry at first, and then her mind had been so focused on staying alive, she hadn’t had any time to waste on tears. She hadn’t been in love with Reeve then either. Thinking about a life without him was just too much for her to bear.

Throwing herself facedown across the bed, she sobbed. She didn’t care if she was acting like a baby. She needed a good cry, and a good cry was what she was going to have.

After a good long while, she finally fell asleep. Two hours later, she lifted her head from the tear-dampened sheet, feeling drained.

She made her way into the bathroom, washed her face and blew her nose. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she noticed her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, her nose pink and raw looking. But she didn’t care.

She just wanted her old life back. With one exception. She wanted Reeve to be a part of it. Only she knew that would never happen.

It was time to face the facts. She would soon be alone in the world. No family, no friends, and no Reeve. Heck, she didn’t even have a cat to keep her company.
Well, I’ll just have to get one
.

Turning out the light in the bathroom, she went back to the bed and sat staring at the walls. Then her attention turned to the phone and her pulse kicked up. She wondered if Jane had been able to reach her parents.

Peyton picked up the receiver and punched in the familiar number. But instead of the girl’s usual greeting, she simply said, “Hello.”

“Jane, it’s me.”

“You have the wrong number,” the girl said.

“Jane, it’s me,” she said again, certain it was Jane on the other end. “Peyton.”

“I told you, you have the wrong—”

She heard static and then a man’s voice in the background. “Jane?” she yelled into the receiver.

“
Jane
can’t come to the phone,
Ms. Delaney
,” a man said. “Don’t bother to hang up. I’ve got your number and location on the caller ID.”

Oh, God. He knows where I am
. They’d be coming after her. She almost hung up and ran, when she realized they had Jane, and she was the one who’d involved her.

Gripping the phone like a vice, she asked, “What do you want?”

“I think you know the answer to that. If you don’t want to read about your friend’s body washing up in the Hudson tomorrow morning, I think you’d better listen…and listen well.”

Her hand trembled as she wrote the address of a warehouse on the notepad she’d seen lying on the nightstand, but she could barely see as scalding hot tears filled her eyes and streamed down her cheeks.

“Put Sinclair on the line,” the man ordered when he finished giving her directions.

“Who?”
she asked, playing dumb. She didn’t want Reeve involved in this. She didn’t want him to get hurt.

“Don’t underestimate me, girly. Put him on!”

Swallowing, she said, “He’s not here. Honestly, he’s not. I don’t know where he is. After that Jameson guy tried to kill us, I ran. I haven’t seen him since.”

“You’d better not be lying, or else Jade’s gonna get a bullet in her pretty little forehead.”

She gasped. “Please don’t hurt her. I’m on my way.”

When she hung up, she took a deep breath, then scrambled from the bed to get dressed. Rooting through Reeve’s duffel bag, she found her khaki shorts. But instead of putting them on, she cast them aside.

For some reason, she dressed in the red leather skirt, tank top and heels. Then, she ran to the bathroom, painted her face, lips and eyes with make-up, and teased her hair. Perfect.

Opening the locks on the door, she remembered the directions and went back to the nightstand to retrieve them. Tearing the top sheet of paper from the pad, she tossed it into her canvas bag, headed toward the door again and froze.

The gun.
She should probably take the gun. If she couldn’t shoot anyone, she could at least point it.

Lifting the pillow, Peyton shuddered just touching the thing. Very carefully, she picked it up and threw it in the bag, and then, she was off.

She had to save Jane. Even if that meant getting herself killed in the process.

****

Reeve knocked on the door to their hotel room and waited. When Peyton didn’t answer, he assumed she’d probably fallen asleep.

He knocked again, harder this time. He hated to wake her, but with the extra locks on, his key would never work.

How stupid of him. No wonder she hadn’t answered; he hadn’t identified himself. “Peyton,” he called. “It’s Reeve.” The poor thing was probably scared to death.

Again, he waited for her to answer.

“Peyton? Sweetheart? Open the door.”

Pressing his ear to the door, he grew wary when he didn’t hear anything. He told himself she was asleep. Nothing more. But he tried the key card in the lock just the same. Getting the flashing green light, he tried the door, and it opened. Swearing, he drew his gun and flew into the room.

She was gone.

“Peyton?” he called, knowing it was pointless. He swore again, and dropped down onto the bed.

“Where the hell could she have gone?
” he asked himself. He’d told her to stay put. Why couldn’t she listen to him for once?

Spotting her khaki shorts on the floor, he stood. Giving the room a quick search, he noticed the red skirt and heels were missing and so was the red canvas shoulder bag she always carried.

Could she have gone down to one of the restaurants to get something to eat?

“Nah, she wouldn’t have done something like that. Or would she?” He spoke the words aloud as if to convince himself.

He’d told her she was safe wearing the hooker outfit. Maybe he’d done too good a job convincing her. Well, he’d just go downstairs and have a look around. When he found her, he was going to make her sorry for scaring him half to death.

Seeing a pad of paper and a pen on the nightstand, he decided to leave her a note in case she happened to come back while he was out looking for her.
He’d tell her to keep her pretty little butt in the room or he’d paddle it for her. He would too. And then he’d plant kisses on her pretty, little pink bottom and make love to her the rest of the night.

But when he picked up the notepad, he noticed someone had written something and torn off the top sheet of paper, leaving only a fragment behind. If Peyton was the one who had used it, what would she have written?

Holding the pad beneath the bedside lamp, he tried to read what had been etched into the pad, but couldn’t. Damn, he swore, then an idea came to him. Hurrying to the desk, he jerked open the drawer and found a pencil. Shading the paper with the soft lead, he was able to make out most of it. It said “Warehouse” and below it was an address in Queens.

Why the hell would she be interested in a warehouse in Queens?
Maybe she hadn’t used the pad
.
Maybe whoever had occupied the room before them had used it.

That had to be it. But seeing the way the jagged edge of paper had been ripped from the pad had him concerned.

For one thing, he didn’t remember the pad having a torn edge. For another thing, Sonny Donatelli used to have a warehouse in Queens, but Reeve wasn’t sure if this was the same one.

Clutching the pad in his fist, his anger mounted. He tossed the pillow aside, looking for the SIG he’d left behind, but it wasn’t there. Swearing, he yanked the phone cord from the wall and heaved the telephone across the room. Then he ran out the door.

He took the elevator to the lobby, then ran down a back hallway toward the garage elevator and jabbed at the button. Jameson’s SUV had a mobile phone. He could call Matt and tell him where he was headed.