One Week To Live (12 page)

Rather than ravishing her right on the spot, he ushered them both to the top-floor pool. From this vantage point, the multi-colored lights of Vegas stretched out before them. However, dark areas in town indicated that some areas were still without power.

Only a dusting of clouds remained. Lightning bolts no longer stabbed at the night sky. Only the Luxor’s intense white beacon pierced the heavens. They said that astronauts could spot the bright beam from space.

A warm desert breeze sent shimmering ripples across the lighted pool. Far below them the nighttime Strip bustled with activity. Things were far more peaceful up here on the pool deck. Only the occasional distant car horn broke the night’s silence.

With one quick motion, she dove in and swam the pool’s length, the grace and ease of her strokes barely disturbing the water. Watching her, he thought about what had happened earlier. Without warning, she’d collapsed in a heap at his feet. Her breathing became so shallow, he feared for her life. When he’d attempted to talk to her, she didn’t respond.

The knowledge that the kidnapper had the power to possess her in that way frightened him. He hadn’t realized how much he cared for her until the moment he thought he might lose her. After his divorce, he’d played the field, but none of the women he’d dated meant more to him than a fling to satisfy his sexual needs. Thinking back, he wasn’t proud of what he’d done. Nor could he justify acting the way he did because of anger toward his wife for walking out on him.

He wanted more than a fling with Angie, but would he blow it before the relationship developed further? With the articles he’d written, he knew he’d nearly ended any chance with her. But his need to get the stories out remained important.

“Come on in,” she yelled from the other side of the pool. “The water is great!”

Watching her long, graceful legs tread water, lust filled him. He stepped into the shallow end of the pool and started to swim toward her, reminding himself to keep his hunger in check.

He wasn’t much of a swimmer. He preferred to float lazily on the pool’s surface and study the sky overhead. Some of his best article ideas came during those moments of watery meditation. However, right now, stories were the last thing on his mind.

Reaching her, he grabbed onto the edge of the pool. Her hair, pulled back into a ponytail, emphasized her big brown eyes. God, he could get lost in those eyes. The water lapped at her breasts, and he swallowed a groan. To hell with her eyes, he wanted to be lost inside of her.

“Race you across the pool,” she said, streaking out ahead of him.

He followed her. Exercise might help tame his growing ardor.

She reached the other side. “I beat you,” she laughed, catching her breath.

He remained in the middle of the pool treading water. “No, you didn’t. I didn’t race you because I’d rather float than swim.”

“I can’t float,” she announced.

“Everyone can float.”

“Not me. My feet pull me down every time.”

”Arch your back,” he said, swimming over to her. “Let me show you. Lean back and relax. Let your body float to the surface.”

She did as instructed, but she didn’t stay afloat long before her feet weighed her down.

“Try arching more,” he said placing his hand in the small of her back. The moment he touched her soft skin, he knew he’d made a mistake.

When she began to sink again, he grabbed her and she slid into his arms. Their legs tangled before their feet found purchase at the bottom near the pool’s shallow end. He pulled her to him, his bare chest pressed against the fabric of her bathing suit top. Yearning to feel flesh against flesh, he fought the desire to remove it. He cupped the back of her head and took her wet mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. A moan escaped her lips. Pulling her even closer, he pressed his arousal against her. She moaned again, her brown eyes darkening with desire. With a few quick moves, they’d be free of the confines of their bathing suits.

He kissed her again, his tongue plunging into the recesses of her sweet mouth. He slid his hand down her back and slowly unhooked the suit’s bra. The fabric floated free and her bare breasts skimmed his chest.

The pool went dark and she screamed.

“It’s just another power outage,” he said, trying to reassure her, but unfortunately the spell was broken.

****

A slamming door echoed through the quiet night. She grabbed for her suit top, pulling it back around her. What was she thinking? Let’s face it, she wasn’t thinking or she wouldn’t have agreed to a swim in the first place. The latest vision had scrambled her brain. She should have known she’d be tempting trouble, but for one brief moment she’d just wanted to escape. She couldn’t deny that the escape had been pure heaven. She wanted him as much as she sensed he wanted her and that wasn’t good. “There’s someone here,” she whispered, trying to re-hook the bathing suit top without success.

“Is everyone all right?” a man’s voice boomed from the dark shadows near the door.

“Yeah, we’re okay,” Brian replied. “Who are you?”

“Security. Stay put. The power will be back on shortly.” With this the door slammed shut and he disappeared.

“I thought you told me this building has a backup generator.” She continued fumbling with the hook.

“It does. Must be on the fritz.” Reluctantly, he helped her re-hook the bikini top.

“Well, I’m not staying put in this pool.” Clutching the handrail, she made her way out. “Ouch,” she exclaimed stepping on something hard.

“Be careful,” he cautioned, joining her.

The lights flashed on. “Oh my God,” she exclaimed, staring down at what she’d stepped on. “It’s the other shoe. That…that man is the kidnapper.” She began to shake and couldn’t stop.

He picked the shoe up. “It’s empty. There’s no clue in it.”

“Of course there’s no clue,” she yelled, hysteria once more gaining a foothold. “He’s going to kill Polly. Here we are messing around in a pool when we should be figuring out a way to stop him.”

After he wrapped a towel around her shivering body, he hurried her toward his condo.

Chapter Ten

Tuesday night/Wednesday morning

They had to return to the pool area to play another round of twenty questions with Dunning. This time the man came by himself and was his usual arrogant self. In return, Brian worked hard to be as unpleasant and uncooperative as possible. The man brought out the worst in him. The disapproving glare Angie threw him didn’t quell his temper.

He hadn’t wanted to call the FBI, but Angie insisted. He knew the more people involved in the case the better chance of finding the little girl in time. He just wished Dunning hadn’t been the one to answer the call. The man insisted they go back to the pool deck.

“Where did you say you found the sandal, Miss Martin?” he had asked surveying the area.

“Right where it still is at the edge of the pool.”

“You just left it there and returned to his apartment.”

“Well, you told us not to touch the evidence,” Brian spat back. “She was shivering and I wanted to get her into some dry clothes.”

“I see,” he said, eyeing them both with a raised eyebrow.

“You can take your mind out of the gutter, Dunning. Just be happy we called you at all.”

“And you said someone came into the pool area when the lights went out.”

“The man claimed he was security. He didn’t stay long,” Brian said.

Dunning didn’t reply. Instead, he retrieved an evidence container from his coat pocket along with rubber gloves. He then bagged the shoe. “You can go now. I’ve got men coming up to gather evidence and you’ll just be in the way.”

Brian was glad to obey him. When they returned to the condo from the pool, it took all his will power to act the perfect gentleman. She was right about concentrating on the case. However, he couldn’t deny his feelings for her. He wanted her to stay and share his bed. She wanted to go home. They compromised. She slept on the living room couch while he reluctantly went to bed and spent a restless night alone.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Brian walked into the living room the next morning. The couch was empty, the blanket folded neatly with the pillow stacked on top of it. The fact that she’d fled didn’t surprise him. They both needed breathing room after last night’s romantic swim. However, he didn’t like her wandering the city alone. Maybe the kidnapper hadn’t made any moves to harm her yet. However, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t.

He opened the drapes and forced himself to stare at the Las Vegas panorama. Neon signs blazed in the early dawn light. Soon they’d fade with the brightness of the summer day. Studying the view, he remembered his son. Thoughts that always brought pain. He wanted to write an article readers could emotionally connect to. Force them to think about what it was like to lose a child. With compassion might come the key to someone spotting something that might help the case.

Positioning his laptop on the table by the window, he stared out at the early morning sky. Another day dawned with no clue where the kid was being held. Would history repeat itself? Would they find this little girl buried in a shallow grave in the desert? He couldn’t let that happen again.

Switching on the computer, he wrote, willing the pain he felt for the loss of his own son into the words he typed. He wrote of a single mother staying in a lonely hotel room in an unfamiliar city while she prayed for strangers to find her only child. And he wrote about a woman who wanted to help find that daughter.

The night Angie first saw Susan in front of the casino, he sensed she’d wanted to reach out and hug her, comfort her. The compassionate expression on her face touched him deeply. He needed to convey that emotion to his readers.

By the time he finished the piece and clicked send along with a note to his editor not to use Angie’s name, the dawn painted the sky in pale shades of orange and yellow. He thought about calling Angie, then decided to let her sleep. She must be as exhausted as he was. He returned to the bedroom and collapsed on the bed. One of the best stories he’d ever written would appear in Thursday morning’s paper. This time something had to come of it. She needed to understand this. Within seconds he was softly snoring as the Las Vegas sun poured into the room.

****

After Agent Dunning’s interrogation the night before, Angie had asked to return to her apartment. However, Brian insisted she stay with him pointing out that her power might not be back on yet. She questioned his ulterior motives. However, in spite of the amorous moments shared in the pool, he’d remained a total gentleman offering her his bed while he slept on the living room couch. She refused, deciding to take the couch.

Following a restless night, she thought it wise to make her escape as the dawn’s first light seeped through the partially open blinds. Thankfully, his bedroom door remained closed when she slipped out. Taking a cab back to her place, she recalled the dream she’d experienced before daybreak. A nightmare filled with loud music and bright strobe lights. What the hell did it mean? Again she’d experienced a vision with no explanation.

Trudging up the stairs to her apartment, she listened for noise, the sound of someone following her. Only her footsteps punctuated the hushed stillness. No newspaper graced her doorway this morning. She peered into the shadows beyond the door, but saw no one. Continuing to listen for strange noises, she entered her apartment. She surveyed the living room. Everything remained as she’d left it.

A relieved sigh escaped her. She hated the feeling of someone following her, watching her. It left her exhausted and perpetually afraid. Only a few days more, she thought. What might happen at the end of those days frightened her more.

Going into the bathroom, she studied the mirror. Her reflection said it all. Dark circles rimmed blood-shot eyes and the few wrinkles edging her face appeared to deepen overnight.

How the hell could the man find her attractive? His actions the night before told her he had, but why? Thinking about his kisses and the feel of his bare skin pressed against hers brought a blush to her pale cheeks. Turning on the faucet, she splashed cold water on her hot face hoping to cool her ardor. It didn’t.

When the bedroom phone rang, she jumped. Running into the room, she noted that Clancy’s cage wasn’t there. “Thank you, Rita,” she mumbled. She answered the phone praying it wouldn’t be the kidnapper. Instead, Rita’s cheerful voice greeted her.

“Hey, girlfriend,” she announced.

“Hi,” she replied. “Thanks for taking Clancy.”

“No problem. I didn’t know you’re a psychic.”

“How did you learn that?”

“Brian’s article.”

Had he written another piece about her? Damn him! “I didn’t get today’s paper.”

“It’s not in today’s paper. It’s from the other day. I’ve been busy learning new dance routines for our next show. I had little time to do much except dance, soak my aching feet, and sleep. What’s with this psychic stuff? How cool is that?”

“I don’t do horoscopes,” she snapped, instantly regretting yelling at her friend.

“Okay, I hear you. No crystal balls, no séances, but I want you to tell me all about it. And what’s with you and Brian? You spent last night with him, didn’t you?”

Leave it to Rita to start putting two and two together when two and two didn’t exist. Her neighbor possessed a long history of failed relationships, but remained a hopeless romantic.

“If you want, I can take care of Clancy for awhile,” Rita said. “We’ve become buddies. He even lets me scratch his head.”