Hiding His Witness (22 page)

“Give me a chance to make it hot.” He nuzzled her neck and brought his mouth to hers, kissing her indulgently, deeply, his tongue stroking hers, building their pleasure until she couldn’t think about anything except the electric press of skin against skin and her body melting into his.

He parted her thighs, lifting her foot and setting it on the ledge of the tub. His body was in line with hers and he was ready. He paused. “I need a minute.”

He kissed her hard and got out of the tub. Her legs quaked and she gripped the shower head to maintain her balance. He returned in a moment, foil packet in hand.

Carey waited with growing anticipation. Sheathing himself, he reached between her legs and ran his finger along the apex of her thighs. She needed this. She needed him. She was hot and ready, and she moved her hips against him in invitation.

He reached to her lower back and pulled her body against him, capturing her mouth with his in a slow, deep kiss. He tasted of mint and smelled of spice. Fresh and masculine, both calming her and arousing her at once.

He positioned himself between her legs. The need was overpowering. Slowing down was impossible. In one smooth motion, he buried himself inside her. She cried out, her fingernails digging into his shoulder blades. He moved out and in, out and in, pleasure building in her core. Excitement escalated inside her and she grasped his hips, urging him faster. He cupped under her buttocks, lifting her into his arms, sliding her against him and creating the perfect friction between their bodies. Their wet mouths slipped together, their tongues stroking, tasting. They fit perfectly as he pushed into her. Wrapping her arms around him, she accepted him as a part of her.

With insistent, powerful thrusts, he pumped into her, faster, deeper, until she found release in his arms. She cried out his name and moments later he exploded inside her, moving slower as her climax eased. Incredible. The power of their love-making made her body quiver.

He set her feet on the tub and disposed of the condom, letting the water ripple over their bodies.

She waited to feel sadness at the idea it was the last time. None came. No sense of loss hit her. This wasn’t a mistake. This was good. This was right. For the first time, they were on the same page, in this together, without secrets between them.

Reilly had given her the fragile, delicate hope that she could leave the past behind her and start over fresh.

A new life. A clean start.

Hope. Wonderful hope. Only the knowledge that Mark was out there, still looking for her, threatened to destroy it.

* * *

Carey slept curled next to him, her back pressed to his chest, her hips nestled into the curve of his body. Reilly let his hand drift along her side. He had missed having this connection with someone. The children running through the halls had settled around 10:00 p.m. and with Carey’s warm body tucked against him, it had been easy to drift off to sleep for a couple of hours. He woke several times throughout the night, once when a door slammed in the hallway, alert to anyone approaching their room.

Lying in the dark, he worked his mind over the ways Mark or John Sundry could trace them. Reilly had checked into the hotel using cash and a hefty deposit. Few people had seen him and Carey together, and they’d changed locations twice since the attack at the police station. The hotel was filled with harried holiday travelers, making it easy to blend. He wasn’t driving his car and the rental could belong to any number of visitors.

But he wasn’t going to get too comfortable. He’d underestimated Mark before and had nearly paid for it with his and Carey’s lives. They needed to keep moving, make sure they weren’t followed, and get somewhere safe.

Reilly was accustomed to going with five or six hours’ sleep and a few naps in between shifts. Crimes he worked haunted him, making his thoughts race and chasing away sleep. This one was no different, except that he had the witness with him in his arms. He was responsible for keeping her safe. He rolled onto his back, stared at the ceiling, trying to force his mind to slow enough to sleep another hour.

Carey let out a contented sigh and shifted, slipping her arm around his waist. He drew her against him and a sense of utter peace fell over him. He couldn’t put his finger on the precise moment his feelings for her had changed. She wasn’t just a witness in a case he was working. She was someone he wanted in his life for more than the present. He wanted her for keeps.

Chapter 12

“Y
ou’re just in time,” Jane said as Carey and Reilly came through the front door, stomping their boots on the welcome mat to bang off the snow.

Carey inhaled the scent of freshly baked cookies and her stomach growled. They’d taken a longer, indirect route, Reilly’s concern about being followed ever present, and they’d stopped only once for gas and snacks.

Reilly unwound the scarf from his neck. “In time for what?”

“We’re trimming the Christmas tree,” Jane said, taking their coats.

Brady appeared in the hallway, holding a mug in his hand. “You missed the hard part. Mom made us chop down a tree from the woods and haul it in here.”

“Tradition,” Jane said, turning to Carey. “Did your family chop down a Christmas tree every year?”

Carey shook her head. “No, we hired people to come to the house to decorate and trim the tree.” Those same people wrapped garland around the banisters and laid it on the mantle, leaving the house scented in pine and glimmering with lights and glitter. Soon after Christmas, they returned to take away the decorations, vacuuming and wiping up every last bit of sparkle.

“Maybe you’ll get a chance to help us next year,” Jane said.

Optimistic. Possible. That fragile hope that Reilly had instilled in her cried out with joy. Carey was quick to temper it. She would take it day by day.

“I’ve fixed some snacks and we’re getting ready to put the balls on the tree. Do you want to help?” Jane asked.

Carey glanced at Reilly, unsure if she should beg off and leave his family to their traditions. He nodded once and smiled at her as if to say, “I want you to join us.”

Carey’s heart warmed in her chest. “That sounds like fun.”

She followed Jane to the living room where Doc was holding the tree by the trunk and Harris was beneath it, affixing the stand.

Jane knelt by a red plastic container with a green lid, popping the sides open and lifting it. The inside was filled with colored ornaments, red, green, gold and silver. Jane hooked a few ornaments and carried them to the tree. Reilly turned on Christmas music, playing it low.

Carey was unsure of where she fit in here. Everyone else seemed to have a role. She was the outsider.

Reilly motioned for her to come over. He handed her an ornament with his name scrawled across it. “I made this in the third grade.”

She examined the gingerbread man with silver writing on the front. “That’s pretty good handwriting for a boy.”

Reilly lifted his brows. “I always was an overachiever.”

Brady snorted. “You mean you’ve always had girly handwriting.”

“You’re just jealous because no one can read your writing,” Harris said, nudging Brady in the ribs.

Carey listened to their familiar banter and smiled at their teasing. Being an only child with one parent had been lonely at times. She’d never had that warm familiarity with anyone.

Carey walked to the tree and placed the ornament near the center, turning it so Reilly’s name faced out. She started when he set his hands on her hips and brought his mouth close to her ear. “Looks great.”

Turning, she pushed his shoulders slightly. She felt his family’s curious gazes. “I can’t take credit for that. I didn’t pick the tree and I put on one ornament.”

He waggled his eyebrows playfully. “What makes you think I was talking about the tree?”

Her cheeks flushed hot, knowing his family had heard but were pretending they hadn’t. Something had changed between her and Reilly in the last few days, their relationship moving to deeper levels, faster than she’d thought possible. His positive outlook had started to rub off on her. She wanted to believe her problems would work out, that Mark and the Vagabond Killer would be caught and jailed and she’d be safe to live her life out in the open—no hiding, no running—with Reilly at her side.

* * *

Reilly couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Carey was beautiful. He’d thought it from the first moment he’d met her and seeing her with his family felt right. She fit.

He’d tried to ignore the attraction. He’d tried to maintain his distance. But it had been futile. They belonged together.

“Is this a Christmas Eve Truman family tradition?” Carey asked, taking a seat on the floor near the fireplace.

“This and the town Christmas party,” Brady said.

Reilly shot his brother a silencing look. Carey had asked about the banner announcing the town’s Christmas party as they’d driven in and Reilly had waved off the question. His family attended every year, but they wouldn’t this year. Carey would be noticed as an out-of-towner and people would ask questions they didn’t want to have to answer.

“It’s a small get-together held in the mayor’s barn. We weren’t planning to attend,” Doc said and Reilly mentally thanked his father for knowing he wouldn’t want to go.

Carey narrowed her eyes and looked around the room. Everyone refused to make eye contact with her. “Because of me?”

Reilly took her hand, the contact elevating his body temperature and stirring his emotion. He would do anything to protect her. She didn’t need to lump more guilt onto herself. Carey’s safety was more important than a holiday gathering. “It’s safer for us to stay here.”

Carey pulled her hand away. “Everyone doesn’t need to stay with me. You should go. All of you. I’ll be fine here by myself. I’ll find a good holiday movie on TV and relax on the couch.”

“Absolutely not,” Jane said. “We’re not leaving you alone on Christmas Eve.”

They fell silent except for the sound of the crackling fire.

“Why don’t I stay here with Carey and the rest of the family can go?” Reilly asked. A night with Carey wasn’t a hardship. He could think of a number of things they could do alone.

Carey frowned. If she knew the ideas racing through his mind, she’d be smiling, agreeing to stay with him. “Then you won’t be with your family. I’ll be fine alone. I have lots of things I need to catch up on.”

“Like?” Reilly asked, knowing she’d be bored and lonely.

Carey glowered at him. “I could paint my nails. Or read a book. Or get some extra sleep.”

Reilly wasn’t leaving her alone. “I’ll stay with you. The rest can go.” It was a party. Missing it wasn’t a big deal. “Dad has the cameras hooked up and I’ll keep the alarms on. We’ll be safe.”

Doc nodded at his son. “It’s your choice.”

“We can stop in for a short while, and then we’ll come back to the ranch and spend the rest of the evening with you two,” Jane said.

Brady and Harris mumbled their agreements. The best of both worlds—time alone with Carey and time with his family. “Carey and I will have fun. Don’t worry about us.”

* * *

“Do you really not mind missing the party?” Carey asked after his family had left with promises they’d return soon.

“A couple of hours alone with you? Better than any party I can think of,” Reilly said, sitting next to her on the couch, slipping his arm around her.

The sultry hum of anticipation floated in the air. Alone in a safe place with Reilly. A sense of calm washed over her—everything was going to be okay.

The smell of hot cider drifted from their mugs and the crackling fire warmed the room. This was the best Christmas she’d had in a long while, maybe ever.

Carey brought her mug to her lips and jolted when an alarm rang, sending cider down the front of her. The shrillness of the sound petrified her. In the time she’d been with the Trumans, she’d never heard one of his father’s alarms trip.

Terror slammed into her. Mark had truly found her this time.

Reilly was on his feet in moments, setting his cup down and taking her hand. “Monitoring console’s in my dad’s office. Maybe an animal tripped one of the alarms.”

“It’s Mark. He’s found us.” Her legs shaking with fear, she followed Reilly, her hand tucked in his. The smell of smoke wafted through the house. A fire. A chilling sense of panic tore through her.

Reilly must have caught the scent of the fire, too, and raced faster, entering Doc’s office and scanning the video monitors and alarms. He flicked a red switch at the console.

Carey looked at the monitors, searching for the source of the problem. Where was the fire? Where was Mark? She didn’t see anyone else on the screens, but she knew Mark was out there, somewhere, lying in wait. How could they escape without Mark finding them? Was he inside the house? Or lurking outside in the dark?

Reilly dialed the combination lock on a wall safe and opened it, pulling out two guns. One he slid into his back pocket and the other he palmed in his hand. “I hit the panic button. I want the family back here. The alarm will notify the fire and police departments, as well. I need to get you to the safe house.”

“He’s going to kill me. He won’t leave here until I’m dead.”

Reilly shook his head. “He has to get through me first. We’re going to be okay.” Carey recognized the determination in his eyes. Reilly continued, “Mark can’t be everywhere at once. The fire’s on the west side of the house. Stay at my side until we get to the safe house under the barn. Once I secure you, do not open the door for anyone. Stay inside until I come get you.”

He was already moving and she ran to catch up with him. “Where are you going to be?”

“I’ll handle this,” Reilly said, his voice tight. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Could anyone keep her safe? After all the Trumans had done, Mark had found a way to get to her.

The smell of smoke grew thicker in the air. “What are you planning to do?” she asked, straining to speak through the smoke that had replaced oxygen in the room.

Reilly dragged her to her knees and they crawled toward the back door in the kitchen. Even the air near the floor burned her lungs as she inhaled.