Playing For Keeps (Montana Men) (27 page)

“Yes.
Take me back.”

Rafe
jerked. He eyed his wife, frowning. She stood there, a towel around her
absorbing the water dripping down her smooth shoulders. “Sweetheart, no.”

“It
isn’t your decision. It’s mine.”

“Rafe
—
” Danger’s voice cut through the haze
and
the instant reaction of his body to Lacey’s near nudity. “You have
to bring her back.”

Lacey
dropped the towel and stepped into the white thong she’d laid out. Rafe coughed
and punched the off button. Flinging back the covers, he sat up on the edge of
the bed. “I don’t like this.”

She glanced over her shoul
der, grinning. “Which part? The fact I
wanna go back or that I’m dressing or
—
”

“Well
hell, you know I’d keep you naked every minute of the day if I could. I don’t
like taking you back to Rimrock,” he growled.

“Noted.
And I’ll work on the staying naked part.”

“This is Danger’s way of getting you back in Rimrock.”

She clipped her bra in place and yanked on a pale blue
sweater. “We aren’t returning to Rimrock for Danger’s sake, but because of what
Smitt Davis did to my son,
our
baby,
Anna, Jace, Kaycee, and God knows how many others. We have to stop him, Rafe.
Don’t you see? He’ll never go away, not if we don’t take him down. I will not
run away or live my life in constant fear, looking over my shoulder, always
wondering if he’s two steps ahead or behind me.” She placed a protective hand
across her belly. “If I’ve been lucky enough to conceive, I won’t let that
monster take another child from me.
Our
child.” Tears sparkled in her eyes. “I can’t lose another baby, not because of
him.”

Rafe nodded, weakening. “You’ll do exactly what I say?”

“Yes.”

He thrust his fingers through her damp hair. “Swear you
won’t leave me for Danger?”

She smiled. “Never. I love you, Rafe. I loved you before
you ever touched me on Christmas day. My feelings haven’t changed. You make me
whole. You’re good for my wounded soul.”

“Sweetheart.” He pulled her into his arms and pressed a
light kiss against her forehead. “You make me feel humble and so honored to
have your love.” Rafe sighed and squeezed her waist. “Where the fuck are we
going to stay? I refuse to go back to Danger’s ranch.”

“We won’t have to. There’s a motel in Rimrock.”

“Lace, that place isn’t fit for human habitation, and we
have no idea how long we’ll have to remain once we return. We need a temporary
home, not a motel room.”

“We can stay at Danger’s grandparents’. Since both of them
passed on last year, the house has stood empty.”

“You think Danger will let us stay there?”

“If he wants me to return to Rimrock, he has no choice.
I’ll call him and make the arrangements.”

“Okay. I’ll take a shower while you pack. And Lace?”

“Yes?” She turned to face him.

“Don’t take any of his verbal abuse. You’ve done nothing
wrong.”

“Yes, I have, but not nearly as much as he has. I promise
I won’t take anything from him. I owe him nothing.”

“I hate the thought of you being anywhere near where Smitt
Davis might be.”

“I know.” Lacey reached for his cell. “We have to kill
him, Rafe.” She pressed a hand against her stomach. “We have to kill Smitt
Davis. If we don’t, he’ll come after us or fixate on some other woman who won’t
have a clue he’s out there.”

He nodded. “We’ll get him, baby. I swear it.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Let justice be done, though the heavens fall.

~Legal Maxim

Ohio

Motor Lodge Motel

February 17, Tuesday

Nine hours after the assassination…

Oh, God. He was dying—or worse—already dead.

Flayme
stared at the downed cowboy and felt a trickle of icy fear settle in her
stomach. He wasn’t stirring, not even an eyelash. She squirmed in the chair,
terrified that he’d keeled over, dead as a post.

And
it was all her doing.

She’d
fry for this, she thought. Yep, they’d strap her in an electric chair, shave
her head, wet her poor, bald scalp with a super-sized sponge, screw a metal
bonnet to her skull and turn on the zippy juice.
Bzzz!
Snap-crackle-pop! Good-bye, cowboy murderess. Good-bye,
world! She’d become tomorrow’
s history
—
yesterday’s news.

God,
she was a sick puppy thinking thoughts like this. “Get your mind on business,
Flayme.”

She
needed to help him, but damn, how could she with her wrists locked behind her
and the cuffs linked around the back spindle of her chair? This was just not
right. How was a lady supposed to help or make good her escape when the
kidnapper kept restraining her to anything handy? Determined to gather her
wits, Flayme drew a sharp breath and slowly exhaled.
Think,
damn it!

How had
he
unlocked the cuffs? Maybe he carried a spare key in one of his boots? Boy, even
if he was awake and alert, he was so not going to share his secret hiding place
with her. She eyed him, then eyed the hard floor, and knew tipping over her
chair and falling was going to hurt like hell.

“Another
black mark in my book against you, cowboy. Yeah, that’s right. The list is
growing quite large. Hell,” she muttered, “like you give a crap.” Flayme tilted
her chin in that stubborn way she knew she had of defying everything and
everybody, and rocked the chair. Might as well get it over with, she told
herself. She couldn’t just sit here and wait for his passing. She had to find
that key and get free. Rocking the chair, it only took her a second to
accomplish her task.
“Ooof!”
She
lay there panting. Boy, her chest tightened. She couldn’t breathe. “You really
know how to show a lady a good time
—
knocked
the wind right out of my sails.” Not only that, but she’d cracked her left knee
against the hard floor. “
I can’t just let you die. I hope you’re damn
well worth the pain I’m going through to help you, cowboy.”

“I
am,” he moaned.

Flayme
blinked. No way. No way in Hades he’d spoken those two little words.

“Don’t
just lay there glaring at me,” he growled. “Get the key.”

“Gee,
what do you have to be so ticked off about?”

“You,
lady, you’re a walking nightmare.”

“I’m
also the one with a sore foot, a banged-up knee and bruises from head to toes.
And I’m the one who was shot at and handcuffed!”

“Is
that all?” he said with a sour look. “Try getting stabbed and clobbered over
the head with a phone, then complain. Help me, for Pete’s sake!”

Crap!
He really was conscious. And here she’d been bemoaning the fact that he was
half dead. Between stabbing and knocking him silly, she thought she’d done
permanent damage—
death-like
permanent
damage. “You trust me to help you?” she asked hesitantly.

A
sigh. “Do I have a choice, woman? I’m too damn weak to fight you. At the
moment, I feel so gawd-awful, I don’t even care if you stab me again.”

Flayme
dragged herself closer, ignoring the way the chair scraped the floor and grated
on her nerves. “You don’t?” She leaned as close to him as she could manage.
Practically nose-to-nose, she detected tiny gold flecks swirling in the deep
green of his eyes.

“No.”
He searched her face. “But please, if you’re going to kill me, make it fast.”

She
nibbled at her lower lip and struggled against bursting into tears. So much
blood. Heck, his shirt was plastered to his chest with it. How much of the
precious red liquid had he lost?
Too much
,
her mind screamed. No doubt, she was going to burn in hell. “I’m not going to
kill you,” she whispered, bursting into tears. “But if you die on me, I swear
to God I’ll make you wish you were dead.”

“I
know there’s some sense in that statement somewhere, but I fail to find it.”

“Tough!
Now where is the key to the cuffs?”

“Right
jeans pocket,” he said.

“For
real?”

“Yeah,
and don’t cop a feel.”

Flayme
choked, then snickered. “Don’t make me laugh. I need to pee in the worst way.
You make me laugh, and I promise both of us will be very sorry.” She hesitated,
then moaned. “This isn’t going to be easy. I have to turn my back to you,
because some idiot locked my wrists behind me. You’ll
have to get up close
to my…er
—
”

“Ass?”

“Yep,
that’d be it,” she said, “so don’t
you
cop a feel.”

“Just
get the damn key. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a chair between me and
your ass.”

“Trust
me, I’ve noticed,” she said with a hint of derision. “What do I do with the key
once I have it?” She wasn’t responsible for the fact that her breasts rubbed
against his chest when she flipped over, fumbled, then fished around for the
key.

His soft groan sent a spear of delight hurling through her
body. Amazingly, she discovered she was smiling like a moonstruck baboon. Why
the hell she was grinning like an idiot was beyond her.
Alive!
He was still alive. The knowledge filled her heart with
gladness
—
until
it hit her.
“You jerk,” she screamed.

“What?”
He looked puzzled, and she just knew, damn it, she
knew
he was playing her. “You let me flip this dang chair, flip,
flop, and roll and get as close to you as I can when you can simply reach
inside your pocket and get the key? It’s not like you’re cuffed or anything.
That would be me.”

He
grinned. “Yeah, it would.”

“You
are one low-down, sneaky rat.”

“That
I am.” He closed his eyes and lay there as still as death. Then his chest rose
and fell in soft little ragged breaths.

Flayme
frowned. Maybe he hadn’t been faking it after all. Maybe he wasn’t quite with
her and didn’t have the strength left to dig the key out of his pocket. She’d
be the first to admit he looked awful, pale as a ghost floating above a
gravestone, and he just lay there, so still, beside her.

She
grunted, edged her body as close as she could manage and worked her fingers
inside his jeans pocket.

“I
told you not to cop a feel.”

She
gasped. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying
—
”

“Have
you got the key or not?” He sounded frail, but impatience threaded his words.

“Yes.
I have it. Now what?” She waited for an answer. Total silence filled the room.
Oh, God. Had he stopped breathing? She couldn’t hear those ragged sounds of him
inhaling and exhaling. How was she supposed to help him with her hands cuffed
behind her back? She couldn’t even help herself. She lifted her gaze so she
could see his face. Oh, heavens. He was dead. Anyone that pale and still had to
be dead. “Hey!” Flayme shouted the one word. Her voice trembled with terror.

“What?”

“Oh!
You’re still alive?”

“Jesus,
woman, didn’t I just answer you?” He flung an arm across his face and moaned.
“Leave me alone. Can’t you?”

“No.
And yes. I know you’re alive…now. You aren’t going to be, if you don’t tell me
what to do with this key.”

“You
have to manage to work it into the slot and unlock the cuffs.”

“I
can’t do that,” she said on a hysterical note.

“Then
let me die in peace.”

“No.
I want to help you.”

He
moved his arm away from his face and opened one eye. There wasn’t a smidgeon of
humor in his hard gaze. “Help me? Lady, if I get any more
help
from you, someone will have to bury me.”

She puffed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Glare all
you want, but you don’t exactly look threatening all sprawled out here on the
floor barely breathing, and bleeding like a menstruating monkey.”

He
pushed himself into a sitting position, then gradually rose to his feet. “Good
God. Where the hell do you come up with such sayings? You and my brother Jace
would hit it off. He’s always coming up with crap like that.”

“What?”
She blinked, uncertain what he was referring to. And if he was nearly dead, how
the heck did he just manage to rise to his feet?

“Never mind. And no, I won’t let you help me. The kind of
help you offer, I can do without. Do you honestly think I’m fool enough to give
you another chance to cold-cock me with something or stab me?” He jerked the
key out of her hand. “You’ll remain cuffed.”

“Are
you insane? Did you just play me? Again?”

He
grinned. “What do you think?”

“I
think I’m an idiot who ought to know better than to trust anyone from D.C.”

“I’m
not from D.C.”

Flayme
clenched her jaw. “You let me tip over my chair onto this…
this
stupid, hard-ass floor and crawl to get to you. I rolled with it three
―
no,
four times, and you
don’t need my help? You loved that. Didn’t you?
Lying there and pretending to be weak and helpless?”

“I
wouldn’t say I was pretending.”

To
her surprise, he unlocked the cuffs and tossed them on the nightstand. She
stared at him, afraid to move. He was the first man she’d ever met whom she
couldn’t read. He’d been yanking her chain, and she’d fallen for it, more than
once just like a stupid goose. Anger scalded her blood. She rose to her feet
and hobbled toward the bathroom. “I hope you had fun at my expense. All I
wanted was to help you. I swear. You need help.”

“What
I need is for you to clam up. Where are you going?”

“Where
does it look like I’m going?”

“Don’t
try anything funny.”

Flayme
silently counted to ten. “The only thing funny in this room is you. If you just
have to have a minute-by-minute accounting, I’m going to pee!” She opened the
bathroom door and slammed it behind her.

* * * *

Duel
stood there waiting, listening. It’d be just like her to crawl out the bathroom
window. He should have nailed it shut. Hindsight, he thought. “What are you
doing?” he shouted.

Mumbling.

He
grinned. At least she was still there.

“I’m
peeing now! Wiping, pulling up my
drawers
,
fastening my jeans, washing my hands
—let’s
see, anything else?
”

“All
right! I get the picture. Get back out here.”

Flayme
returned, only to stand there and glare at him. “I want a shower.”

“Later,”
he snapped. “I’m tired. I wanna get some rest.”

“Look,
all I wanna do is…God, I’m sorry I hurt you. Okay?” Surprisingly, she sounded
sincere. “I don’t want to fight with you anymore or inflict more injuries.”

“No?”

“No.
I’ve pretty much reached the conclusion you have no intention of harming me.
Okay? Can we call a truce?”

“No,
it isn’t okay. I haven’t concluded you don’t intend to harm me.”

“You
can’t be serious,” she said.

“I’m
serious as a heart attack. You assaulted a government agent…twice.”

“I
didn’t know you were an agent, at least not the first time. How could I know
such a thing? I thought you were the man who shot at me.”

“And
who
was
that, exactly?” He sank onto the side of the bed. “Why was he shooting at you?”

“Swear to God, if I was able, I’d punch you right in the
nose. You have to be the most stubborn man I’ve ever had the misfortune to tangle
up with.”

“And you, my lovely, evade telling the truth.”

“I can’t tell you something I don’t know.”

He snorted.

“I swear I don’t know his reason for shooting at me. How
could I? It all happened so fast. Maybe it was a good day for taking potshots.”

“Well,” he released a hard breath, “I’ve learned when
someone is shooting at another someone, there’s usually a pretty damn good
reason. What did you do to piss him off, stab him in the balls?”

“Certainly not!” she denied. “I’d never seen him before,”
she said indignantly.

“So a stranger shoots at you for the hell of it? Wanna try
another one before that one gets cold? What makes you so important that a hit
man is willing to risk getting caught by breaking into the CIA building? Then
shoot at an ordinary secretary? Hell, scratch that. There’s nothing ordinary
about you.”

“Thanks…I think,” she returned dryly. “I don’t know why he
shot at me. I’m not important.”

“Oh, I think you just might be.”

“Why? What do you mean?”

Duel leaned toward her and clasped her arms. He studied
the purple bruises that banded her wrists. Gently, he rubbed her skin. He
glared at the bruises, then at the cuffs. He snatched up the cuffs and dropped
them in the trash can. “No more,” he said softly. “If you wanna go, go. I’m not
putting those damn things on you again.” Gently, he stroked the discolorations,
drawing tiny, imaginary circles on her skin with his fingers. “I’m sorry,” he
whispered. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

A tingle started in her lower spine and spread to her
stomach. Her womb clenched with need. “So you’ve decided to trust me?”