“You did all that, even though you thought I could have been involved in that smuggling ring?”
She hesitated but finally gave in and nodded.
When he didn’t reply, she chanced a glance up. And saw eyes that went all soft and dreamy the way they had so many years ago in Cairo. In that one look her insides turned to Jell-O. Just liquefied, right there where she sat.
“I never got over you,” he whispered. “You’re the only woman I want. The only one I’ve ever wanted—”
She didn’t let him finish. Through a rush of tears she kissed him hard, then nearly burst when his hands ran down her back to close around her. The kiss was so electric, her bones had no choice but to follow her insides and turn to butter. Had it not been for his arms wrapped tight around her, she was sure she’d have disintegrated into a puddle right there at his feet.
“You’re not leaving this apartment tonight,” he said against her mouth. “You’re not getting out of my sight until I know you’re safe. I can’t go through what I did six years ago.”
Her heart turned over at his words, at the vulnerability she heard in his voice. She lifted her hands to his face and kissed him long and deep, sliding her tongue into his mouth until she tasted his sweetness deep inside her.
“I want to stay with you tonight, Kat. No more running. Tell me you want that, too. Tell me—”
She nodded quickly. “Yes. Yes. I do. Oh, Pete. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
Whatever restraint he’d been exercising before broke with her words, and a low growl of victory erupted in his throat as his arms crushed her tight against him and his mouth closed over hers with stunning force. She felt the strong, steady beat of his heart against her own, the slightest tremble in his body when he kissed her. And when he shifted there was no mistaking the arousal stabbing into her hip that proved just how much he did want her.
He rolled her to her back, never once breaking their kiss or loosening his hold on her. Her hands raced to the buttons on his shirt, fumbled. When she couldn’t get to him fast enough, she gave up trying and tore the shirttails from his slacks instead. As her fingers made quick work of his belt, she was oddly aware that tonight she’d gone from being in the throes of despair, to heartbroken and betrayed, to so damn happy she could barely breathe. But the how or why or when they’d gotten to this point wasn’t important. Not anymore.
She found the button at his waistband and pulled him free of his slacks. He groaned into her mouth as her hands slipped over his back, ran lower to pull him into her.
“God, Kit-Kat. You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Yes, I do,” she whispered. “Because I ache inside from it.”
He moved out of her grasp so fast she barely had time to react, leaned back on his knees and lifted her torso off the bed to tear the T-shirt from her body. She gasped at the rush of cool air, at the force with which he ripped her bra from her skin. Seconds later her jeans joined her shirt on the floor and his mouth was back on hers, kissing her hard as he lost his clothes and climbed back over her in all his naked glory.
This was so much better than the last time. Because now she knew how he felt. And it warmed the coldest spaces of her heart. She wrapped her arms around him as he moved up her body. Shuddered as his fingers delved between them and found her wetness. Groaning at the slightest touch, she let her head fall back against the mattress as he stirred and stroked and she held on for dear life.
He slid one finger deep inside, used his thumb to circle and swirl. Electricity shot through every neuron in her body until she felt like she’d come out of her skin.
“You’re so tight,” he said against her throat. His teeth found her ear, scraped across her lobe as he added a second finger and drove her to new heights. “That’s it. Squeeze me. I love the way you feel.”
“Pete.” He was quickly pushing her toward the edge. She groaned again, lifted her hips to his incredibly talented fingers.
“That’s it. Keep saying my name, Kit-Kat.” He shifted, kissed his way south, slowly, inch by inch until she felt his tongue sliding over her most sensitive flesh.
Ooooh. She groaned. Arched as his fingers stroked deeper and flames ignited deep inside her.
But it wasn’t enough. She loved what he was doing, but she wanted more. She wanted him. “Pete, please. I just want you.”
Before she could open her eyes he was moving up her body. His mouth captured hers with an urgency she’d missed before. She tasted him, her, all the years they’d lost. When she heard the rasp of cellophane, she reached down to help him suit up only to discover she was too late. His hands raced to her hips as he pushed his way between her thighs. She gasped against his mouth as his pulsing erection brushed over her center, then groaned with pleasure when he sank into her in one mighty thrust.
Obviously, she’d said the right thing because he couldn’t get at her fast enough. And oh, she loved it. She wrapped her legs around him, held him close as he pumped into her and she met him thrust for thrust. All the while he was kissing her, driving her crazy with his mouth, he made love to her with his body like it was the first time. The last time. Like every time they’d missed over the years.
The importance of the moment wasn’t lost on her. Even as her orgasm built, and though she knew it was cliché and common and that there was a much better time, she wanted him to know how she felt.
She hooked her leg over his hip, used her hand to push against his shoulder to roll him to his back. He took the hint easily, rolled with her and gathered her tight as she settled on top of him and took control.
Those half-lidded, smoky eyes were lit with an erotic light that pulled at her. She kissed him, tightened her muscles and met his upward thrusts. “Kit-Kat. What you do to me.”
Warmth gathered in her center. She was about to peak, but she didn’t want to. Not until he did. With her hands braced on both sides of his head, she leaned down and rested her forehead against his. The medal around her neck fell over his heart, right where it was supposed to be. “I love you, Pete. I always have.”
He exploded inside her on a long groan, and she held on tight as her own climax washed over her seconds later. In that moment, the past was finished and buried. Never to come between them again.
His mouth found hers, hot and wet and possessive. And she loved it. Loved those strong arms of his circling around to hold her close. Loved the way he couldn’t seem to get enough of her. Loved the steady beat of his heart in time with her own.
Still joined together, she collapsed against his chest and pressed her face against his neck as she took long, slow deep breaths. The whole time, he whispered sweet words and trailed his hand up and down her spine.
She snuggled in and closed her eyes. For the first time in years, she was filled with a hope she was almost too afraid to believe in.
Every inch of her body ached.
Hailey lay still on her side and held her breath to keep from crying out. Not an easy thing to do considering it hurt like a son of a bitch even to breathe.
The vehicle she was in bounced and jerked her to the side, sending pain lancing through her torso where she’d been kicked. So much for all that self-defense training. She’d let these creeps get the jump on her, and now she was in deep shit. And no doubt black and blue from scalp to toe.
Okay, think.
She had no idea where they were heading, but the rhythmic whap, whap, whap filtering through her mind told her they were most likely on a bridge.
Bridge…bridge…bridge. Hell, that could be anywhere.
Her memories were vague from the moment Minyawi had knocked her out cold in Lauren’s house in Key Biscayne. She was pretty sure she’d been put on a plane, then stuffed into a car. She knew they’d called her by Lauren’s name several times, so they hadn’t yet figured out they’d fucked up. At one point she remembered being in some sort of dingy motel with Minyawi—yeah, he was a sick fuck—eyeing her like she was the last hooker in a brothel. But now even that, along wit
h everything else, including the beating she’d obviously taken, was a fleeting blur. And thank God for that little side trip into amnesia-land. On top of the rest of the crap in her life, she seriously didn’t need the trauma from this fucked-up nightmare.
With her hands tied behind her and a blindfold covering her eyes, she didn’t know what kind of vehicle she was in now, or how long she’d been on the road. One thing she had paid attention to, though, were the voices of the two men who’d abducted her.
Heavily accented. Middle Eastern. Cold. Hard. Bordering on inhuman. One was definitely Minyawi. The other? She was almost sure he’d responded to the name Busir.
Oh, man. Pete owed her for this one. Owed her bigtime. If she got out of this—when she got out of this—she’d make sure he paid up tenfold.
The only way to keep from freaking out was to use her brain and dial back in to her officer training. She counted the whap, whap, whap and the number of turns they took after leaving what had to be a bridge. When the vehicle came to a jolting stop, she clenched her teeth to keep from screaming as pain shot through her entire body.
A car door opened. Footsteps echoed around the back. A door near her feet was pulled open, and a blast of cold air rushed over her body.
They definitely weren’t in Florida anymore. The air here was crisp and frigid and felt of snow. She went completely still.
“I’ll be back for you. With a friend,” the one she was sure was Minyawi said.
The door slammed shut, and a lock clicked, echoing through the interior of the car that had just become her prison cell.
One set of footsteps marched away from the vehicle, then faded altogether. She waited for the other door to open. For breathing to indicate she wasn’t alone. Only there was nothing.
For some reason Busir wasn’t with them anymore. Which meant she was truly alone. And this was her only chance for escape.
She bolted upright. Two things Minyawi didn’t know. One, she wasn’t as drugged as he’d thought. Yeah, she was fuzzy, but she’d been acting the past few hours so he wouldn’t shoot her up again. And two, she wasn’t the helpless female model he believed her to be.
Pulse pounding in her ears, she wriggled against the ropes at her back. When that proved useless, she rolled onto her stomach, eased back on her knees and tried to rub her face against her shoulder to free the blindfold.
It was like working underwater. Her arms and legs refused to work the way she wanted. Finally she realized she wasn’t going to get anywhere until she remedied the situation with her arms. Rolling to her back, she lifted her hips off the floor and groaned as she scooted her lower body through the hoop her bound arms made and brought her hands to the front of her body.
Sweat covered every inch of her skin. A metal clanging from somewhere outside drew her up short. She waited. And prayed the entire time Minyawi hadn’t come back.
When the sound stopped and it was clear it had been something unrelated to her situation, she went back to work, using her hands to push the blindfold free so she could go to work on the ropes at her feet.
It took a while for her eyes to adjust, but she quickly realized wherever she was, it was still night. City lights streamed in through the front windshield of the vehicle, casting shadows over the interior of what she guessed was a utility van. The walls were metal, the floor hard and cold, and along the back wall she saw two cargo doors. Behind her, a wire mesh net prevented her from accessing the front two seats.
The rope bit into her skin. Her fingers bled as she tried to free herself. But she didn’t stop. Just when she was ready to scream with frustration, the ropes at her feet loosened.
Yes!
She kicked and wriggled free of the bonds and quickly jumped to her feet. No time to worry about her hands. She had to get the hell out of here.
The cargo doors were locked—no surprise—so that left the front. She ran her tied hands over the cage, trying to find a release. When that proved futile, she grabbed the metal between her fingers and cranked hard.
Still nothing.
“Son of a bitch! Come on!”
Her breaths grew labored and heavy. Sweating, she glanced along the edge of the cage at two tiny little clamps. Like the unit was snapped into place, not bolted.
Hope burst through her.
On her knees, she worked the latch at the bottom on the right side until her fingers screamed in pain, then the one at the top. And nearly cried out in glee when the unit opened like a door hinging back.
She crawled through the space, dropped into the driver’s seat and eyed the ignition. No keys.
Dammit. Well what did she expect? An engraved invitation to motor her way to freedom à la Greg Biffle?
She chewed on her lip. She needed to get to the authorities and get word to Pete about Minyawi. She could get out and run, or…she could hotwire the thing like Rafe had taught her to do when they’d been dating. Crap, she wasn’t sure she remembered which wire went where.
Indecision brewing, she glanced up. Then realized in a flash where she was.
No goddamn way.
Forget NASCAR. She had a faster idea.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Pete was warm all over. Even his toes were toasty.
He smiled as he lay on his side watching Kat sleep, curled up facing him on the mattress in Maria’s guest room. He’d turned the light off earlier, and now only the glow rising from the city outside the huge windows highlighted the angles and curves of her face, the soft skin of her shoulder, the way her hands were tucked in close to her body.
Man, he could just lay here for hours, staring at her.
The rain had turned to a light patter against the windows. The night sounds of the city were drowned out by her rhythmic breathing.
He couldn’t bring himself to wake her, even though he desperately wanted to make love to her one more time before dawn. So he contented himself with lying next to her, watching her sleep. He stroked her arm, marveled at the way her lashes fanned against her cheeks, how her lips parted as she breathed and that little mole near her mouth beckoned him to kiss her. He traced the line of her shoulder, drew his finger across her collar bone, followed the chain around her neck to the medal that fell between her breasts.
St. Jude. Patron saint of lost causes. She’d told him once she wore it because she was the biggest lost cause of all. But she was wrong. She was so much more than she realized.
A muffled thump cut through the night silence, and Pete’s finger halted on Kat’s medallion. He lifted his head and listened, only to have a second thump meet his ears.
Rolling to his back, he looked toward the tangle of clothing on the floor. He seriously didn’t want to get out of bed, but some strange instinct was telling him to get up and check on that noise.
Maria slept like the dead and didn’t get up for anything. And no matter how he tried, he couldn’t come up with a logical reason for her housekeeper to be up and moving this early.
He hesitated until he heard it a third time, then rolled out of bed as quietly as he could so as not to wake Kat and pulled on his slacks. Most likely it was something simple like the wind lifting loose material on the roof of the building, but considering the situation, he didn’t think it wise to ignore it.
He closed the door quietly at his back and moved barefoot through the upstairs. Every room he checked was empty. Nothing moving. Nothing out of the ordinary. He tiptoed down the stairs and hesitated when he reached the entryway.
The heating system hummed. Outside, wind howled, and rain pattered against the panes of glass in the living room. He was just about to turn around and go upstairs when he heard it again.
A thump. Like something heavy being moved. Coming from Maria’s room.
He eased down the hallway, staying in the shadows. Then wished like hell he’d grabbed his gun from upstairs. Glancing around the darkened passage, he spotted a tall, chunky candlestick on a side table.
Not a bat. But the best he could come up with. He grabbed it w
ith a frown and turned it upside down to use like a weapon. Then he wrapped his hand around Maria’s doorknob.
The room was dark, and it took his eyes a moment to adjust, but he didn’t miss the muffled gasp.
Maria was on the floor between the bed and the window, hands and feet cinched tight, gag stuffed in her mouth and tied behind her head. Her flailing was the noise he’d heard from upstairs.
Oh, shit.
His blood ran cold, and he turned to race back upstairs. Maria’s muffled scream echoed at his back.
He made it as far as the base of the stairs before he was coldcocked from behind and went sprawling to the hardwood floor. The candlestick sailed out of his hand, smacked against the far wall and broke into two. A set of familiar dark eyes and an ass-ugly mop of hair moved into his line of sight.
Minyawi.
No…not Minyawi. Someone he knew a whole lot better.
He flipped quickly to his back and managed one lethal blow before a hypodermic needle was thrust into his arm. He swatted at the sharp stab, flicked it away before the syringe was depressed all the way, then heard a chilling voice he remembered all too well echo in his already fuzzy head.
“Thank you, Pete, for bringing her right to me.”
Kat woke with a start. She didn’t know what had pulled her from sleep, but one glance around the dark room and a feeling of dread washed over her.
Pete was gone.
She dropped her feet over the side of the bed, pulled on her T-shirt and jeans and felt a moment of relief when she saw his shoes and shirt in a heap on the floor next to her things.
Okay, he wasn’t gone for good. He’d just gotten up for something. She listened to see if she could hear him, and when she couldn’t, that panic washed over her again.
She reached for the gun in her backpack. The house was too quiet.
She checked the magazine and clicked off the safety, then silently walked to the door. When she got to the top of the stairs, she listened again and hoped she could hear Pete clanging around in the kitchen, rummaging for a midnight snack.