Goodbye Arizona (6 page)

“Deb! Deborah!”

The call came out too strong, too frantic to be a figment of her imagination. Deb lifted her head, weak as a kitten. “Marcus? Marcus, I’m here!”

Tears poured down her face as hope flew out. There were noises nearby. A shuffle of feet followed by angry demands. Deb sank against the door, drummed her fists against the wood. “Help! I’m here! Marcus! I’m here! Help!”

****

“Sir, please stand back.”

“Open the fucking door, damn it! Deb! I can hear her. Deb!”

“I could override the system, sir, but her program will be complete in a couple of minute—”

“I don’t care—open the damned door!”

Marcus consented to step back so a technician in a peach coat could type a code on the control panel of the sauna. A few seconds later, a disheveled, crying beauty threw herself at him, and his heart started beating again.

Chapter Seven

“This is a mild sedative. Give her half a caplet if she becomes agitated. And don’t hesitate to call me.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

Marcus closed the door behind the physician and turned to look at the woman curled in the large bed.

The evening lights played hide and seek on her side as she slept. Marcus watched the gentle tide of rose gold and growing indigos, thankful for the peaceful rhythm of her respiration. It had taken several minutes for her to calm down after they let her out of her temporary cage, and several more to get a coherent story out of her.

She hadn’t seen her assailant, hadn’t noticed anything until she had woken up in the sauna. The hotel didn’t have any cameras in this area—one of the reasons he asked for a suite
inside
the main building—and with the crazy fest she’d been taken from, the police had little chance of finding her kidnapper.

Marcus leaned down to brush a kiss on the crown of her head. He’d vowed to himself to let her rest, but he needed to touch her once in a while, as if to make sure she was really there, that she was safe. Deb stirred.

“Mmm.”

“Sorry … I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

She snuggled closer. “What time is it?”

“A few minutes shy of seven. You’re all right?”

Deb rubbed her head on his shoulder like a cat, one arm wrapped around his waist. Marcus shifted on the bed and propped himself up against the mountain of pillows she’d insisted they needed. He knew by experience that most of them would end up on the floor during the night. His hand found hers and he laced their fingers over his stomach. The scent of her shampoo tickled his nose. Silence enveloped them for a while, so he wondered if she had drifted off again.

“I lost my ring…”

He stared at their entwined fingers. The band on his fourth gleamed in the falling light. “I’ll buy you another tomorrow, and not out of a vending machine but in a wedding chapel this time. So you won’t need to wear it on a chain around your neck.”

She pondered that for a moment, then uttered under her breath, “Yours always fit.”

Sensing there was more to it than a discussion about jewelry, Marcus rolled on his side so he could look at her. Her eyes vibrated with lassitude and unspoken emotions. Diving in their depths, Marcus wondered if he’d been wrong all along. He’d always thought that to be truly happy, she needed independence. That she couldn’t breathe unless she had the chance to experience whatever tickled her fancy. So he’d watched her come and go, no matter how badly he wished she would stop flitting around and would settle down. Perhaps what she’d truly needed after all this time was for him to ask her to stay.

“I thought I’d lost you this afternoon.” He felt her breath flicker, and brushed his nose against hers. “I was—I’m not ready to lose you. I don’t think I’ll ever be. I love you.”

Deb smiled at last. “I love you, too.”

She linked her arms around his neck, her lids closing as he changed their Eskimo kiss to a less innocent caress.

Her mouth parted under his. She tasted the same, but somehow sweeter. He knew every inch of her body, and yet took the time to rediscover the delicate curve of her shoulder, the silky feel of her skin. A feather-light kiss under her jaw earned a sigh, a nibble on a sensitive spot a chuckle.

She winced when he accidentally pressed on the small bruise on her shoulder.

“Sorry…”

Desire fought—and lost—an arduous battle with concern, but her limbs tangled with his to forbid a strategic retreat. Marcus stared up into her eyes, and nearly drowned in their light. The only move she allowed was to come close, so he lowered himself so his cheek rested on her breast.

Her heart palpitated in her chest like a panicked bird in a cage. He brushed a soothing kiss on the naked skin that was revealed by the shirt she’d put on. He freed one button from its hole to kiss her again. Another button popped out, followed by another kiss. Deb shivered and he warmed her with his mouth, blowing air and heat on the goose bumps, bringing a different frisson to her skin. Her hands detached from his hair to tug at his clothes. Marcus consented to pull off his polo and then returned to his worshipping.

Her flesh filled his hand, hot and so soft he nearly moaned in delight. When kisses stopped satisfying the growing need inside him, he suckled and lapped. His fingers busied themselves with her curves, the wonderful valley of her stomach, the length of her leg. She gasped when his mouth followed the bump of her hipbone. He nibbled the delicate flesh because he couldn’t resist.

He would never have his fill of her scent, of her taste on his tongue, of the glorious rasp that escaped her lips when he touched her. “Don’t make me beg, Marcus…”

Her husky whisper invaded his head, freezing his brain like a drug, until the only thing on his mind was her. He wanted her to beg. He wanted to please her until he was the one demanding mercy. She was the queen he obeyed, the goddess to whom he prayed. She was his best friend, his only love, his everything.

The mysteries he unraveled up her inner thigh teased every part of him. His body trembled with want. His senses overloaded. The romantic writer was at a loss for words. The lover relished the way she sighed his name as if it were a lustful secret. “Marcus… Marcus…”

The tight lid he’d put on his own needs shook, ready to explode. His mouth traveled north while he fought with his pants. The jerky movements against her stomach caused mixed giggles with her moans. “You’re tickling me!”

Marcus answered with a groan, finally managing to rip off the fabric. The contact of their feverish skin made him dizzy. Deb enlaced him. She offered her mouth, arching under him when he allowed his weight on her. “Please…”

He never could refuse her anything, especially not that. Marcus delayed nonetheless, digging the last of his control to pace himself, to offer gentleness in the tornado of passion that they had created around them. Want sharpened to a keen ache. One soft calf slid up his leg, the invitation impossible to turn down.

He tried anyhow, torturing them both. Her eyes fluttered open, so bright that his heart skipped a beat. Marcus felt her hands clamp on to his back. His muscles tensed under her touch. Inch by inch, his body escaped his control. Something inside him snapped, like a coil springing free. The world narrowed to the point where their hips joined. She cried out when he filled her.

He kissed her again, but the lack of oxygen forced him to release her mouth. He buried his face in her neck, pushing in deeper. Heat tightened an impossible grasp around him. She was so soft, so wet, perfect. “Mine … all mine…”

Ecstasy licked at the verge of his sanity. Every pant, every moan, became a prized reward, even more satisfying when she flushed in pleasure, her delicate face lost in rapture. “Marcus!”

One more thrust, one more dive, before he fell.

Chapter Eight

The midday sun tickled Deb’s nose. Eyes closed, she yawned, drifting along the last tendrils of slumber. When she couldn’t pretend to be asleep any longer, Deb opened one eye. As usual, the bed beside her was empty. She smiled.
Trust Marcus to get up at the crack of dawn, late nights or not.
He loved nothing more than having his first coffee of the day by himself, watching CNN, Discovery Channel, or whatever program piqued his interest that day. Last Christmas, she’d caught him on a
Tom & Jerry
marathon.

A quick stop in the bathroom assured her that she looked more rested than she felt. Deb arranged the Diamondbacks t-shirt she had used as pajamas and immediately regretted stretching. Combing her hair with her finger and a grimace, she went looking for Marcus.

She found him in the living room part of their suite, typing on a keyboard with his phone tucked under his jaw.

“Yes, yes, I know, Theo.” He smiled at her when Deb curled on the sofa with her legs tucked under. “Look, Deb’s here, I have to go, okay. The exact words? Fine. I promise. You too. Bye.”

He threw the phone on the cushion chair nearby and leaned over to peck her lips. “Theo said to tell you, I quote, ‘I hope you find the bastard and kick his sorry ass’.”

Deb grinned as he repeated his sister’s words, leering at the coffee mug close by. Marcus tugged it out of her reach. “How are you?”

“A bit sore, but okay. What time is it?”

“A little after noon.”

Deb pushed the borrowed laptop to take its place on his lap. Marcus took his cue, and circled her waist.

“Marcus…” She allowed him one kiss before she tilted her head away. “We’re trying something different, aren’t we?”

“Mmm-mm.”

“So it means that you unload some of your burden on me, and I’m there to support you.”

“It’s still my coffee.”

He grazed the column of her neck. Holding on to her train of thought grew harder. Deb sighed, fighting to keep her eyes open. The addictive caress paused and then narrowed on a sensitive spot in a rhythm that curled her toes. Her fingers threaded through his hair to bring him closer. Marcus resisted, working his way up until he found her mouth. Her mind blanked. For a few seconds, she became only a bundle of sensations, one of the sparks he so easily ignited inside her.

Marcus broke off for air and whispered against her lips. “Hello.”

Deb laughed and nestled on his chest. “Hi yourself.” This time, she managed to pick up the mug. “Where did you find the laptop?”

“I borrowed it from the hotel. I didn’t want to leave you alone while I made use of the business center.”

The fuzzy—borderline mushy— feeling he’d awoken in her the previous night soothed the burn of the coffee in the pit of her stomach. Marcus allowed her one gulp before he took the coffee from her hand. “I changed my passwords and logged out of a couple of websites. It’s just a precaution, really, in case they hacked their way in.”

“Good thinking. How’s Theo? What did she want?”

He hesitated a moment before saying, “She worries.”

“I understand how she feels.”

Marcus tightened his embrace around her. “Deb, let me talk to the sheriff. After what happened, she can’t refuse to let you go home.”

If she closed her eyes, she could almost see the house in the middle of the orchards. The blooming season must be in full swing, the air balmy and fragrant. Deb asked, “What about you?”

His eyes changed from gray to a cloudy slate the moment the question passed her lips, the silent answer all too clear. Deb extracted her arm from between them to cup his jaw, so she could look at him directly in the eye. “What’s happening here is not your fault, Marcus. It’s not your responsibility, either.”

“I know.”

She stared. He kissed her lightly.

“I know it’s not. But Flint is … I’m in the middle of this. I can’t … I can’t leave until I know how I fit in the picture, and why.”

Deb retained a smile. Now that the shock had receded, her natural curiosity perked up again and she wanted to solve the puzzle. She nodded and untangled herself from Marcus’s arms. “Then we’re staying.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she shut it with one finger. “We’re staying,” Deb repeated. “Which means you’re taking me shopping.”

Marcus scowled with the last word. “I fail to see how the two are related.”

“I can hardly go to tonight’s gala in a baseball jersey. I need an evening dress. And also a new pair of jeans, a couple of blouses and some toiletries.”

“Lingerie?”

Deb rolled her eyes and slid off his lap. She could feel Marcus’s eyes glued to the slight gait of her hips as she walked across the room toward the bedroom. She spared him a glance over her shoulder. “You’re so easy.”

Marcus joined her in three strides. “What about…” He picked her up so she had to cling to him with arms and legs for balance. “We skip the mall…” Her pulse spiked when his mouth caressed the underside of her jaw. “And the penguins’ parade…” Heat simmered, blurring her vision around the edges “So I can show you how easy I really am.”

He’d brought them back to the couch, and Deb found herself gasping for air, her knees on both sides of his thighs. His clever hands followed the stitches of her shirt until he found the sensitive points along her spine. Her resistance slipped through her fingers like water. “I have to, we, oh, what are you—”

“Crap.” Marcus bucked under her and pulled his phone from under him. “Damn, it’s Ty.”

Now free to pay him back, Deb peppered his face with kisses. “Ignore him.”

“He’ll just keep calling until I pick up the phone.” Marcus pressed
answer
and flicked the speaker on. “Your timing sucks, bro. I’m working on my marriage here.”

Deb slapped his arm.

“Is that what you intellectuals call it these days?”

Marcus grimaced in exasperation. “What do you want, Ty?”

“Theo called me. How’s Deborah?”

“I’m all right, Tyberius, thanks for asking.”

They heard a strangled sound, as if Marcus’s brother was choking on his abhorred first name. Then a baby wailed.

“Ah shit. Give me a minute, you two.”

Marcus and Deb grinned at each other while the broody, ex-hockey player crooned to the whining infant. “Shush… You don’t want to wake up Mommy, do you? Here, say hello to Mr. Rabbit.”

Deb wriggled on Marcus’s lap, barely able to contain her guffaw. He pushed her off him with a hushed groan. “Don’t start something we can’t finish. Ty?”

“I’m here. Tell me why my twin sister yelled at me for half an hour, as if it were my fault you were in deep … trouble. And make it quick. Ann’s got a sixth sense when it comes to Abigail’s crying. I don’t want her to worry about you in addition to everything else.”

“What ‘else’?”

“You’ll understand when you have kids, Marcus. Quit stalling. Oh, and spare me the bawdy details, will you? We’ll talk about your sex life when the lady’s not around.”

The named lady narrowed warning eyes on her husband, who quickly replied, “Or never.”

Ty’s laugh boomed from the speaker. “Sure. Spill, Shakespeare.”

Deb pricked up her ears, curious to hear what kind of net the writer in him had cast over the past thirty-six hours.

Marcus cleared his throat. “In a few words? A psycho threatened the contestants running against Flint for the Sue Award. The ROSA committee didn’t take it seriously, or seriously enough, to warn the participants. I learned about it myself when Deb told me two days ago. Unfortunately for Sybil Reiner, it wasn’t just a scam. She was gunned down Thursday night. Another author ended up in the hospital, because of an allergy or poison, we don’t know. Then yesterday, despite the police swarming the place, Deb was kidnapped.”

He laced his fingers with hers, maybe in hope the contact would erase those hours and the hollow terror they had brought. “But her assailant tipped me. I can’t make sense of that. He had already killed once. Why not a second time?”

Deb inched closer to wrap his arm around her shoulders, shivering.

“A warning?” Ty suggested on the other end of the line.

Marcus shrugged. “Maybe. But then, we already had one when our rooms were ransacked.”

“Yeah, Theo mentioned that, too. Was anything taken?”

“No. He got my laptop when he took Deborah, and that’s all. It’s a bother, but compared to anything else that might…” Marcus trailed off, more than likely conscious of the woman gripping his hand. “It’s really nothing. I wanted to buy a new computer anyway.”

Deb rolled her eyes. She imagined Ty doing the same.

“So a lot of smoke, but no fire. No offense, Dee.”

A knock on the door saved Deb from shooting back that it’d been hot enough on her side of things, thank you very much. By the scowl on his face, Marcus wasn’t exactly happy with Ty’s retort either, so she let the brothers bicker and went to open the door.

“Sheriff.”

“Miss Stone. I’m glad to see you’re up and kicking.”

“Up, yes. Kicking … it’ll depend on that one’s behavior.” She pointed over her shoulder at the man on the couch.

Pooley returned her half-smile. “I have four of those at home, not including the pets. I see what you mean.”

Deb couldn’t help but stare at the first personal tidbit they had gotten from the stern sheriff in two days. Pooley coughed, her face taking back its customary blank expression. “Our interview with the spa clerks was fruitless. The only camera is in the spa lobby, but since neither the front desk girl nor the technicians remembered seeing you, it’s useless. Unfortunately, the backdoor is not covered by video camera.”

“Isn’t the backdoor locked?”

Pooley nodded at Marcus’s question. The end of his phone call had deepened the frown on his face that Deb wished she could blame on Ty’s abrasive manners. Pooley shook her head.

“The spa is accessible to any guest of the resort. Chances are he used your own access card to unlock the door.”

Deb thought for a second. “I didn’t have it. I left my key in Marcus’s room when we went out for lunch.”

The sheriff squinted for a second before she returned her attention to her. “Then it’s worth checking the logs.”

“What about the break-in? Did you find who’s responsible?”

“Not yet.”

Marcus snorted impatiently. The petite woman raised one hand. “I’m not giving you the ‘no-comment’ line, Mr. Turner. In fact, I’m here to discuss something with you. Can we sit down?”

****

On the first floor, a glimpse at the ballroom confirmed the last-minute change of plans had been the right move. The place was swarming with cops who were ferreting everywhere. The shadow snorted in derision. They would find nothing. But tonight, liars and cheaters would pay in kind…