Hiding Jessica (16 page)

“All right,” he conceded, and found he was honestly grateful for her thoughtfulness. “Just don’t tell anyone.”

Her features at once froze, her brown eyes sweeping up to find his with aching hauntingness.

“Bill and Jamie?” she asked softly. “What do you think happened to them?”

The grin vanished, and suddenly his face was tight.

“I don’t know,” he said flatly.

She looked down at her hands, suddenly twisting the blanket into fists.

“But it’s probably not good,” she said absently.

“These people play for keeps,” Mitch said darkly. Abruptly he slammed his fist into the steering wheel, causing her to jump. A road miraculously appeared before him, but he turned the Blazer onto it without any real thought.

Her question conjured up images he’d pushed thus far from his mind. Like Victor, falling down as the shots rang out. Like his own startled cry as a bullet had ripped through his upper arm. And deep inside, he knew what had happened to Bill and Jamie. It filled him with anger, deep dark anger at himself because he was supposed to be the specialist. He was supposed to keep people safe.
He was supposed to be the strong, capable one.

And with the anger came another dark thought and another low curse.

“Was he worth it?” he found himself asking, his voice so tight, he barely recognized it.

“Who?” Jess asked. The grinning Mitch was gone, and in his place was the formidable, furious man who had caught her trying to take the car just three hours earlier.

“Your lover,” Mitch ground out.

She shook her head, looking away. “I told you,” she said, “there is no other man.”

“Then how did they find us, Jess?” he quizzed intently. “How did they know where we were?”

She hesitated, and for the first time the true implications of the last thirty minutes washed through her. All at once her heart was pounding again, and she didn’t have to look down to know her hands were shaking.

“I don’t know,” she told him, a slight quiver in her voice. “I honestly don’t know.”

“You didn’t tell him anything?” Mitch prodded brutally, not quite ready to relent. “You didn’t contact him, leave some signal for Les’s men to trace?”

She shook her head vehemently.

“Look,” she said, willing the conviction into her voice. “I wanted to leave, Mitch. I wanted to leave because I was afraid of just this moment. Don’t you understand? The violence follows me. It doesn’t matter what I do, what I try. And I thought—” Her voice broke slightly, but she forced herself to continue. “I thought if I could just be by myself, live by myself, then finally everything would be all right.”

He glanced over at her, and for the first time, her face was something other than an expressionless canvas. Instead, the worry and the fear etched lines in her forehead and shadows in her eyes.

“There’s no one else?” he asked again, but this time his voice was softer.

She looked out at the white patterned landscape rippling on by. The lie stuck in her throat, and even as she cursed herself for the weakness, she couldn’t summon the dispassion needed to look this man in the eye and lie.

“I don’t have a lover,” she said at last. That much was true.

The words took a weight off his shoulders that he hadn’t realized had been there. The kernel of his anger dissolved, and at once he realized just how much he’d put her through this evening. He had condemned her for her inability to trust, but looking at events this far, he wondered if she hadn’t been right.

Two attempts were made on her life during the trial, and now, in the place he’d told her was safe, the place he’d told her he was in charge of, yet another attempt.

The implications furrowed his brow and darkened his gaze. Because if Jess hadn’t betrayed them by outside contact,
who had?

Chapter 8

T
hey traveled for one more hour in silence, both burdened by their own heavy thoughts and the numbing cold. Mitch would like to have put more distance between themselves and their pursuers, but the cold was becoming a serious safety factor. They’d long ago pulled on the additional clothes from the duffel bag, but even then, Mitch’s fingers had gone numb on the wheel, and he’d lost all sensation in his face. He was more than willing to bet that the first stages of frostbite were setting in, and at this point, he and Jess couldn’t afford the weakness.

At his suggestion, Jess once more huddled under the dashboard. At least it protected her from the frost-tinged wind blowing through the vehicle, though he could tell from her sporadic shivering that it wasn’t adequate protection.

There was a town up ahead, not large, but at least he could already see the glowing red Vacancy sign for a small strip motel. He pulled in, and Jess roused herself enough to peer out.

“Here’s the deal,” he told her, the severity of the situation making him curt. “Sooner or later, Les’s men are going to pass through looking for a man and woman traveling together. So we need to make it appear like I’m traveling by myself.”

Jess looked wary at this idea, but in her half-frozen, sleep-deprived state, she couldn’t quite pinpoint why she should be concerned. Then, of course, he spelled it out for her.

“That means I’m going to go inside there and get one room for one person. You’re going to sneak into the room later.”

He saw her half open her mouth and he cut her off before she had a chance to say anything. “We’re both exhausted,” he said flatly. “And we’re both adults. And so help me God, we are going to share that room, and you’re not going to argue with me. If you absolutely can’t stand it, you can sleep in the tub for all I care. But we’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow, and we need our rest.”

Then before she could so much as muster a reply, he opened the door and climbed down from the Blazer, slamming the door firmly behind him. Alone now in the deep freeze of the cab, Jess let her head sink to her knees. She was truly exhausted and she was truly frozen. And her heart still beat painfully in her chest, her mind dull from the strain.

She was in no condition to share a room with a man like Mitch Guiness, yet in no condition to argue, either. Never in all her life did she crave solitude so badly, and fear it just as much. Because in the loneliness lay the nightmare waiting to find her.

The door opened again, abruptly penetrating her thoughts. She raised her head slightly, her eyes wary.

“Room 3B,” Mitch said crisply. He drove them to the spot in front, climbed out with the bag and unlocked the door. He looked around, saw no one in sight and then motioned her in. She tried to obey as quickly as possible, but the long hour in a crouch had cut off too much blood in her legs. Pins and needles stabbed through her, and she would have cried out if she’d had the energy. She bit deep into her lower lip instead.

Mitch watched her, and the strain on her face filled him with guilt. Damn it, he’d told her to trust him. He’d told her he knew what he was doing. And here they were running like thieves in the night. Damn it all to hell.

“Stretch out slowly,” he found himself saying. “And take a warm shower to heat up. But start with the temperature on the cool side. Your nerves are so numb, you can scald your skin if you’re not careful.”

She looked around the tiny, cramped room, her eyes making out the shadowed pocket of a bathroom. A shower sounded wonderful. Warmth sounded wonderful. She gave him a sideways glance.

“And you?” she asked carefully.

“I have to attend to the car,” he said obliquely. “It could be a while before I’m back.”

She froze, suddenly feeling another frisson of fear wash through her. He was leaving. She should want him to leave. She should want the solitude. But the trembles running through her belied the words. And suddenly, deep and heartrending inside of her, she didn’t want him to go.

And knew no words to make him stay.

It was the shock of the last few hours, she told herself. The aftermath of the fear. But no matter what logic she used, she felt her heart thump painfully in her chest as he opened the front door. Images slashed across her mind, and at once she remembered the feel of his soft, urgent lips upon her own, his strong, solid arms wrapping her in a secure, warm embrace as he filled her with sensations she’d never felt.

Warmth. Strength. Heat.

She swallowed hard, closing her eyes. But even then, the yearning tore at her.

It’s the fear that’s causing it all. Because you don’t care, you never care. You are the Ice Angel and all you need is to be alone.

He walked through the door, and she stood there in the middle of the room like a mannequin. Her insides screamed as she watched the door close. The click seemed to echo with finality. He was gone.

And suddenly she was all alone in the dingy motel room with a mind full of demons and heart filled with pain.

She didn’t even understand why.

* * *

Two hours passed. At first she pretended she didn’t notice. She did some minor stretches, easing her tired muscles. She showered and pulled back on her jeans and a heavy knit blue sweater. She flipped through stations on the tiny, badly colored TV and told herself after the excitement of the evening, she just wasn’t tired yet.

And even as she glanced at her watch for the fifth time in half an hour, she told herself she couldn’t possibly be waiting.

She didn’t wait. She didn’t care about other people or their schedules. She took care of herself—that’s the way it had always been. When she felt tired, she slept, regardless of anyone else’s plans. And at any time now, she could take the brown-and-orange floral blanket and curl up safely in a corner of the floor to sleep. She could.

But as her eyelids drooped down, she didn’t.

Two hours turned to two and a half, the sun beginning to lighten the sky. The entire night ended, leaving the dim-lit dawning of an uncertain day.

Where was Mitch Guiness?

Sitting on the floor, her backside numb, she couldn’t escape the growing apprehension. He could have left; it was possible. Just gotten into the Blazer and driven away.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the notion. She didn’t care, she thought fiercely. She’d said she wanted to be on her own, and she would take care of herself. Though she hadn’t had time to grab the twenty thousand from her room last night, she had five hundred dollars in cash in her purse, which would take care of a lot.

But a minute later she abandoned the idea altogether. Mitch wouldn’t walk away like that. He just wouldn’t.

Once more she remembered his kiss.

Warm, strong, compelling. She’d felt every muscle of his powerful body tense and bunch with the passion. His embrace had been firm, his chest hard and unyielding. Yet gentleness had tempered the strength, restraint easing the power.

Tonight, when Mitch had woken her, the fear had never reared very hard. He’d been with her, guiding her through the silent house with his sure steps and capable strength. He’d led her to the vehicle he’d sequestered, driven them through a rain of bullets and plunged them safely through a snowy forest. Somehow, hunched down beside him, she’d never doubted that they would escape. She only had to look at the grim expression on his dark face, the deft control of his large, callused hands, and she’d known it would be okay.

He’d even thought of ways to make her warmer while his own fingers had grown thick and sluggish with the biting chill.

He’d done all that he’d ever promised, and even now, two and a half hours later, she knew he would come back.

He was that kind of man.

She half shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself as she huddled on the floor. The exhaustion filled her, and her head slipped forward to rest on her knees. But she didn’t close her eyes. She knew the minute she did, the nightmare would find her, plunging her down into the desperate blackness.

She wrapped her arms a little tighter, unconsciously rocking a bit. One more glance at the watch. Two hours and forty-four minutes since Mitch had left. Surely he would be back soon, filling the tiny motel room space as he filled everything with his presence. Her gaze crept slightly to the single bed, then skittered away with unstated apprehension.

She would sleep on the floor. She would take the top comforter, curl up on the floor and abandon her fearful vigil. Mitch would be here, and even as he filled her with uncertainty, she knew he would take care of things. As long as he was nearby, Les’s men wouldn’t get her.

Mitch would be standing guard.

A noise sounded at the door, and she jerked, her head popping up. Her spine instantly stiffened, all expression leaving her face as her control slid unconsciously into place. The telltale scratching of a warped key in a rusty lock penetrated the silence, followed by a low, familiar stream of curses.

Mitch returned. Whatever relief that brought her, none showed on her face.

He opened the door only enough to let himself in, closing it quickly behind himself. He looked haggard and worn, the lower half of his jeans encrusted with mud as if he’d made a long journey.

Seeing her sitting there on the floor, he gave her a small grin, lopsided with the exhaustion.

“Waiting up for me?”

“You were gone?” she returned, feigning ignorance, her eyes habitually cool.

“At least you missed me,” he said wryly, leaning back against the wall with obvious weariness. For a moment, she felt a strong stab of guilt. He’d had a long night, and all because of her.

“Where did you go?” she asked quietly.

“I dumped the Blazer in a nearby river,” he said. “It’s too easy to trace back to us. Tomorrow we’ll rent a new vehicle.”

She nodded. “You think of everything.”

He glanced up sharply, but there was no trace of sarcasm in her voice. Did the Ice Angel just compliment him? He wasn’t sure he dared dream so big. Finally he gave a small shrug, leaning down to work on his mud-encrusted boots.

“It’s my job,” he said casually.

She watched him attempt to untie his shoelaces. Funny, now that he was back, she wasn’t tired at all. Instead, her nerves surged with a new kind of restlessness. He filled the room and the one bed loomed like a billboard. She found she couldn’t quite meet his eyes.