Kyle closed his eyes as if battling deep emotions. “The next time we make love we’ll do so as husband and wife.”
“Oh, Kyle,” she whispered, loving him so much it seemed to spill out from every part of her. “I love you.”
“If that’s true, I suggest you stop torturing me.”
“I won’t kiss you again if that’s what you want,” she assured him, although she was baffled by his attitude.
“It isn’t the kiss that plagues me so much as the way you’re wiggling against me.”
“I am?” Experimenting, she rotated her hips once and smiled to herself at the power she wielded over him when he gritted his teeth. Now that he mentioned it, she could feel the strength of his erection.
“Carrie.” He braced one hand against her hips, stilling her.
Her body felt as though it were empty. Only he could fill her, only he could douse the fires that seemed to rage through her.
“You’d better not leave me standing at the altar,” Carrie murmured, struggling to hold back her fears. She tightened her arms around him, knowing nothing she could say would turn him from this crazy plan of his. All she could do was sit back and wait—and slowly go mad with worry.
“Don’t fret, I’ll be back,” he promised and kissed the tip of her nose. “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”
“But men with guns might try.”
“They don’t stand a chance.”
Kyle didn’t fool her. He was looking for ways to reassure her, but his words did little to ease her mind. He was leaving her and placing himself in grave danger.
“Just keep safe,” she insisted, and then, because she was so afraid, she locked her eyes with his. “Kiss me once before you go.”
He took her mouth, and she parted her lips in eager welcome. The familiar taste of him calmed her spirit in ways she couldn’t define. In slow, sensual movements, he eased his lips over hers, molding her mouth, shaping it with his own, feeding her courage, lending her strength, giving generously of himself.
Without speaking a word, Kyle had convinced her he was completely hers. Vows weren’t necessary. He’d already pledged his life to her. In that moment Carrie didn’t doubt that he would put his life on the line to protect her and their unborn child.
Within the hour, Kyle was gone.
Until dusk, Carrie wandered around outside the cabin and walked along the shores of the lake. Being close to the water comforted her, soothed her, and she was badly in need of serenity. Kyle had insisted upon showing her where his mother kept a handgun. Although she insisted she’d never use it, Kyle seemed to rest easier knowing that it was there and that she had access to it if need be.
That night she slept fitfully, tossing and turning, disturbed by dreams of Kyle and monsters. She was awake before dawn, brewed a pot of coffee on the temperamental wood stove, and sat on the porch to watch the sun rise.
Carrie managed to keep herself busy that day, but she didn’t think she’d survive another night and day without Kyle. Her mind whirled with what she would do if he didn’t come back. The trek into town, although it was a good ten miles, was walkable, but once she arrived she didn’t know who she would contact or how she’d get back to Kansas City.
Carrie longed to talk to her sister. She missed her parents and, if the truth be known, she even missed Clyde, bless his black heart.
Everything felt strange and unfamiliar. She missed her home and the little things about modern-day life, and big things too. She would have given a week’s wages for something that went flush in the night.
With no television and no radio, Carrie was completely shut off from news of the outside world. By the time it was dark, she was in bed, sleepless and tense.
A sound came from a distance, and she sat up and strained to hear.
It came again, a discordant noise that didn’t fit with the familiar noises of the night. If Carrie were to guess at the source she would say it came from a car engine. Throwing back the covers, she nearly fell out of the bed in her eagerness to investigate.
Praying it was Kyle, her first inclination was to run out onto the front porch. But what if it was someone other than the man she loved? Carrie’s heart collided with her chest at the thought. Perhaps someone else, Richards’s killer, had learned of their whereabouts and had come, seeking the key.
In a panic, Carrie looked around for a hiding place. There wasn’t one. The loft would be the first place anyone would look.
Kyle was right. When her life was on the line she didn’t once seriously consider her three karate lessons. But she wouldn’t use the handgun either. Call her a fool, but she hated the very thought of the weapon.
The sound grew close and Carrie braced her back against the rough cabin wall and inched her way toward the window. When she gathered the necessary courage, she turned and looked out.
It was a car, and it didn’t belong to Kyle.
By this time Carrie’s heart seemed to be pounding loud enough for telegraph messages in the African jungle. It felt as if it would explode inside her chest.
Not until the car had parked where the moon glowed on the side panel advertising HARRIS HEALTH FOODS did Carrie know it was Kyle’s mother.
Weak with relief, she opened the front door and padded barefoot onto the porch.
“Hello,” Lillian Harris called, standing next to her 1960 Ford station wagon.
“Hello. I’m Carrie Jamison.”
Kyle’s mother was nothing like Carrie had expected. The woman was tall and regal-looking with bright silver-colored hair that was styled short, almost boyishly. If it weren’t for her hair, Carrie would have guessed her to be in her late thirties rather than the fifty she knew her to be.
“I’m looking for Kyle.”
“He isn’t here,” Carrie explained, and held the door open for Lillian. “Come inside.”
Fifteen minutes later, over brewed herbal tea, Carrie had finished telling Lillian the wild story of Billy Bob, alias Max Sanders, the key, Agent Richards’s death, and why she was holed up in a cabin alone, frantically worried about Kyle.
“According to my runes, Kyle’s in no real danger,” Lillian said, as if this was authority enough to assure her of her son’s well-being.
Carrie wasn’t sure she should take comfort in that or not. For her part, she would have preferred a more modern technique, like a phone call or having him arrive at the cabin himself.
“I’m pleased to meet you at last,” Lillian said. “I just wish it wasn’t under these circumstances.”
“I’m pleased to meet you too. Kyle’s mentioned you often.”
Lillian laughed at that, rocking in the wooden chair that sat next to the fireplace. “I’ll just bet he has. I must say you’re not what I expected.”
“Me?” Carrie flattened her palm over her chest.
“I don’t mean to sound unflattering, but I would never have guessed you’d be so tiny.”
Carrie understood; she had expected something quite different with Lillian too. She’d thought the woman would wear love beads and sandals and have long hair. Lillian looked very much like what she was: a health food advocate who took her business seriously. Her hairstyle was chic, and instead of love beads she’d donned a necklace of three small crystals. As for the way she dressed, Carrie couldn’t see that Kyle’s mother’s taste was that much different from her own—other than the crystals.
“It’s been something of an experience to realize my son was falling in love for the first time in his life,” Lillian went on to say. “I knew it would happen someday,” she said wistfully. “It just took longer than normal. But then, what can I expect of a son who voted for George Bush?”
Carrie laughed.
“Perhaps now Kyle will understand the love that was so precious between his father and me.”
Carrie didn’t know if she should comment, and, if she did, what she should say. Kyle didn’t think kindly of his father. The few times he’d mentioned Moonrunner, the statements had always been dero
gatory.
Lillian stared into her mug of tea. The dim light of the kerosene lamp illuminated the area about the stone fireplace. Carrie sat on the floor on a braided rug and sipped hot tea herself.
“Is he still intent on quitting his job?” Lillian asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Good. You two are an excellent pair, on and off the air. I’d hate the thought of his giving up his career at KUTE at this point.”
Now it was Carrie’s turn to study her tea. “Did he tell you I’m pregnant?”
“Get out of here!” Lillian’s smile lit up her face. “That’s great!”
“We’ve decided to marry. The first thing we did when we arrived at the cabin was to drive into Jansenville for the marriage license. We saw Doc Henley, who’s a justice of the peace.” She didn’t list the man’s other titles.
“He’s an ordained minister as well.”
“He is?” Carrie felt better knowing that.
“I suppose Kyle told you about me and his father,” Lillian said, her voice so low Carrie had to strain to hear her.
“Only a little.”
“We met the summer I was nineteen. I was living in Haight-Ashbury at the time, convinced all the world needed was love. Naturally I opposed the war in Vietnam. I met Moonrunner at a protest rally where he and several of his friends burned their draft cards.
“I saw him, and the minute our eyes met I knew I’d never be the same again, and I was right. We sat up that first night and talked until dawn. I wish I could adequately explain the strength of our feelings for each other from that first moment. It was as if I’d waited all my life for this one person. He felt the same way about me.”
“But he left you.” Carrie regretted the outburst the moment the words left her lips.
“Kyle told you that, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” Carrie admitted reluctantly. “I’m sorry, I should never have repeated it.”
“Moonrunner didn’t leave me. Even now, after all these years, I refuse to believe that. He never knew I was pregnant with Ringo—I mean Kyle. If he had, I think he would have turned over heaven and earth to find me.” Lillian smoothed a wrinkle from her skirt. “Perhaps what you’re hearing is the wishful thinking of an old woman who’ll never be able to forget the one true love of her life. There’ve been other men since, but I was only tempted to marry once, and that was years ago.”
“You were opposed to violence?”
“Oh, yes. I still am, vehemently opposed.”
“But you own a gun. Kyle gave it to me. He insisted I have it for protection while he was away.” She glanced toward the kitchen cabinet where it was stored.
“The gun belonged to his father. I hope to high heaven you didn’t attempt to fire it.”
“No, I refused.”
“Thank God. That thing hasn’t been used in over thirty years. Moonrunner gave it to me for the same reason. He thought I might need it for protection.”
“Against whom?” Carrie asked, curious to learn what she could about Kyle’s parents.
“The police. Moonrunner was into some thing he could never talk about. He couldn’t tell me for my own protection, but I think I knew. You need to remember those were violent days. Our young men were dying on foreign soil and we were losing the very future of our country. People don’t understand now. I’m proud to have been involved in protest marches. I firmly believe they shortened the war and saved American lives.”
“You were saying something about Kyle’s father,” Carrie said, not wanting to steer the woman away from the topic that interested her most.
“Yes, Moonrunner. I suspected he was with a militant group that planned to bomb an ROTC building on some campus.”
“Did they?”
“I can’t be sure. Several militant organizations were bombing buildings in those days. One ROTC was hit, but it wasn’t the one I suspected Moonrunner was planning to blow up. Of course, anytime one works with explosives there’s terrible danger.”
“Naturally.” Carrie shuddered to think of young people putting their lives on the line in order to protest a war. If ever she needed proof that violence begets violence, she had it in Lillian’s story.
“Several of us lost friends. One explosion…”
“Yes?” Carrie urged softly.
“It was an accident,” Lillian said, her face tight with the painful memories. “Three college students were killed. I tried to find out about Moonrunner, but I never could. You see, I never knew his legal name. Moonrunner was all he ever told me. Again, that was for my protection.”
“He knew yours?”
“No.” She smiled regretfully. “I’d renounced it and my parents, both.”
“I see.”
“You probably don’t, but remember I was young and very stupid. When I discovered I was pregnant with Kyle, I quickly reclaimed my name and came home to Kansas. Thank God I had wonderful parents.”
“They helped you get on your feet?”
“Oh, yes, but it took some time. I had a difficult pregnancy and my morale was low. No matter how hard I tried to put Moonrunner out of my mind, I couldn’t, even though I suspected he was dead.”
Carrie closed her eyes and silently prayed for Kyle’s safety.
“I’d like to think Kyle’s father would get a charge out of our son. Who would have believed two hippies could have spawned a conservative Republican?”
“Give him time to come around,” Carrie said with a wink.
“I swear I wasn’t awake until I reached thirty, and by that time it was too late. Kyle’s personality was already formed, and it resembled my father’s far more than it did mine or Moonrunner’s.”
Carrie flattened her hand on her tummy, thinking of the baby growing there and wondering about the life their child would have.
“I nearly married when Kyle was ten—a natural yogurt salesman from Missouri. We got along real well and might have made a good life together, but when it came right down to it, I realized I was marrying Harold for all the wrong reasons. I liked him just fine. He was a good man, and he would have made Kyle a decent stepfather, but you know what was missing: that spark. It just wasn’t the same as it was with me and Moonrunner.
“Sometimes I wonder what kind of life Kyle would have had if I’d married Harold. At the time Kyle thought it was a great idea. He was furious when I told him the wedding was off.” She paused and laughed. “He ran away. Got a whole lot farther than I’d ever suspect. If we hadn’t found him before he reached the Mississippi, my guess is we might never have seen him again.”
She chuckled as if the memories amused her.
“You might find it amazing, but Kyle’s a lot like me in ways you wouldn’t suspect. He’s the type of man who only loves once. When men like that make a commitment to a woman, it’s for life.”
Carrie felt strengthened by Lillian’s words. “I’ll do my best to be a good wife to him.”
“You want some advice?” Lillian asked, leaning forward and bracing her forearms against her knees.
“Of course.”
“This is probably the only time I’ll give you any. I’m not good at this sort of thing, but I know my son through and through. I can tell you how to keep him content.”
“Please do.”
“Love my son with all your heart.”
“I do,” Carrie said firmly.
“And keep plenty of chicken recipes on hand. Kyle loves chicken.”
17
Kyle needed to think, and he was having a hard time doing it. Every time he concentrated on the string of events that had led him to this point, Carrie’s face came to mind, and that made it impossible to be rational.
All he wanted was to be done with this craziness and get back to her so they could be married. Rarely had there been a man more anxious for his honeymoon.
He wasn’t sure he could trust Bates, but he had no option. The first thing he did when he arrived back in Kansas City was contact the agent and set up a convenient m
eeting place and time.
Then he waited near the rendezvous point for the Secret Service agent to arrive. He killed time in a men’s store across the street from the Mexican restaurant they’d chosen, trying on winter coats. He’d been there long enough to examine a dozen or more overcoats and ward off a salesman twice, by the time he saw Bates arrive.
Bates was with another agent. Choosing to dine al fresco, the two men sat down at one of the white patio tables, whose multicolored umbrellas cheerfully endorsed a variety of beers. If Kyle hadn’t known the men were government agents, he would have guessed as much almost immediately. They were clean-cut, businesslike, and they sat with their backs to the wall, a dead giveaway.
Amused, his gaze skirted past the only other patron sitting outside, an older woman sipping a heavily salted margarita. Kyle winced. The woman was ugly, dog ugly. It wasn’t in Kyle’s nature to be cruel, but he couldn’t imagine sitting across the dinner table with someone who looked as if she’d spent the day sucking lemons. She wore a hat and gloves, as if this were an afternoon tea party instead of a Mexican restaurant.
Kyle moved away from the heavy winter coats and hesitated. Slowly his gaze returned to the woman and stopped. There was something vaguely familiar about her.
Then he knew.
Kyle felt as if someone had slugged him in the chest. Ms. Margarita wasn’t any female. It was Max Sanders dressed as a woman.
Kyle had to give the felon credit; Sanders was a master of disguise. At first, even second glance, Kyle would never have guessed. Bates and his new partner hadn’t either, and they were supposed to be professionals.
One thing was certain: Kyle couldn’t walk across the street and hand over the key. His heart sank. He felt as though he was never going to be rid of the stupid thing.
Having Sanders arrive on the scene presented a problem. Kyle wondered how he knew about the meeting. Had Bates told him? Kyle doubted that Sanders would go to the trouble of wearing a disguise if that were the case.
The only other possibility he could come up with was that Sanders had tapped his phone. Kyle wanted to groan at his own stupidity. Thinking Bates would put a tracer on the call, Kyle had phoned from his house, all the while patting himself on the back for being so damned clever. If Bates tracked the call, Kyle wanted it to appear that he’d been holed up inside his house all this while.