With a frown she peered through the growing dusk at the two-story brick building with green shutters and a pretty, fenced-in verandah on the side.
Above the heavy wooden door was a sign that read:
HALL’S MILL WINERY & EATERY
“Why did you stop?” she demanded.
Shutting off the engine, he unhooked his seat belt and stepped out of the truck.
“I told you, I need a drink,” he said, rounding the hood to open her door. “And you need to eat.”
She grimaced at the mere thought of trying to swallow food. “I’m not hungry.”
Without warning he reached to grab her hands, his bronzed features grim in the streetlights.
“Please, Annie,” he said in husky tones. “I need to feel like I’m doing something to help.”
Meeting his dark gaze, she felt her heart clench with regret. She’d been so caught in her own drama, she hadn’t considered what it was doing to Rafe to have to reveal the truth of her past.
For whatever reason, he felt an overwhelming need to protect her. It couldn’t have been easy to allow her to travel to Wisconsin, suspecting what she would find. And now he was no doubt consumed with guilt that she’d been hurt. The last thing she wanted to do was make him feel worse.
Unbuckling her belt, she slid out of the truck. “Okay.”
Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he led her across the lot and through the front door.
They entered a small lobby with wood plank floors and open beams overhead. The walls were hidden behind shelves filled with local wines and barrels overflowing with various cheeses.
Immediately they were wrapped in the warm scent of freshly baked chicken pot pie.
On cue, Annie’s stomach growled.
She went at warp speed from not being hungry to starving.
She heard Rafe give a low chuckle before a young waitress appeared with blond hair pulled into a high ponytail and a pretty face.
Her bored expression was instantly replaced by shocked fascination as she caught sight of the tall, dark, and delectable man standing in the center of the lobby.
Annie didn’t blame her.
Most women were starstruck when first confronted by Rafe Vargas.
“A seat on the terrace,” he said, his arm still wrapped around Annie’s shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed, sticking out her chest to make sure Rafe could have a full view of her bountiful breasts, which were shown to advantage in the stretchy black dress. “It’s only open on the weekends.”
Rafe flashed a charming smile. “No exceptions?”
Predictably dazzled, the young woman gave a small giggle, glancing over her shoulder as if looking for her boss. “I suppose I could make one exception,” she murmured.
Rafe gave another smile. “Thank you.”
Sashaying her way across the lobby and out a side door, the waitress led them down the steps to the sunken terrace. The air was cool, but the potted trees provided a barrier to the breeze and gave a sense of complete isolation.
Annie suddenly understood why Rafe had insisted on sitting out here.
It was secluded enough that there was no way any conversation could be overheard.
Smoothly moving past her, Rafe pulled out a wrought-iron chair at the nearest table, waiting for Annie to take a seat before settling next to her.
The waitress procrastinated for a long minute before she turned to hurry back inside, probably headed toward the bathroom to put on another layer of lipstick and plump her boobs.
Annie gave a rueful shake of her head, turning to meet Rafe’s curious gaze. “It should be illegal.”
A dark brow flicked upward. “What should be illegal?”
“Your smile,” she explained. “It’s lethal.”
A wicked heat smoldered in the depths of his eyes as his hand slid beneath the table to skim over her knee and up her inner thigh.
“I like the sound of that.”
Her heart forgot how to beat as the heat of his hand seeped through the denim of her jeans. Their gazes tangled and she suddenly wished they were someplace far more private than a winery.
She didn’t want to think about her brother. Or the brutal abuse he’d endured that had made him into a killer.
She wanted to lose herself in the passion that sizzled between them.
She was actually swaying forward when there was the sound of approaching footsteps and the waitress returned, carrying a tray.
Setting down two glasses of water and a basket of rolls, she kept her gaze laser-locked on Rafe. “Would you like to look at a menu?”
His fingers continued to stroke up and down Annie’s inner thigh as he glanced toward the giddy waitress. “What smells so delicious?”
“Our special chicken pot pies.” A flush stained the girl’s cheeks, as if Rafe had just called her delicious. “We’re famous for them.”
“Bring us two of them along with a bottle of your favorite local wine,” Rafe ordered.
At any other time, Annie would have protested a man ordering her dinner. She was shy, not a doormat. She didn’t need anyone telling her what she wanted to eat.
But tonight she just wanted to get rid of the waitress with all possible speed.
Besides, the pot pie really did smell delicious.
“Anything else?” the waitress asked, a hopeful edge in her voice.
“No.” Rafe gave a firm shake of his head. “Thanks.”
“Just let me know if you need anything.” Once again she spoke directly to Rafe, completely ignoring Annie. “My name is Suzi.”
When Rafe remained silent, she heaved a faint sigh. Turning on her heel, she returned to the main restaurant.
Annie rolled her eyes. “Lethal.”
Leaning forward, Rafe pressed his lips to the curve of her neck, his fingers squeezing her knee. “It’s all yours, sweetheart,” he murmured.
Annie shivered, tiny quakes of pleasure racing through her body.
His lips barely brushed her skin, but she felt as if she’d been branded.
“Hmm,” she vaguely muttered.
He gave her knee another squeeze. “Someday you’ll trust me.”
Returning with a speed that made Annie wonder if the girl had raced all the way to the cellar or simply snatched one of the bottles off the display shelves, Suzi uncorked the bottle and poured a small amount in Rafe’s glass, clearly waiting for him to take a taste.
Rafe ignored the way she pressed against his shoulder, instead reaching to tug the bottle from her hand.
“I’m sure it’s fine. That will be all,” he said, his smile taking the sting from his unmistakable dismissal.
Suzi didn’t attempt to stall. Rafe had made his disinterest clear.
Pausing long enough to flick on the muted lighting that was concealed in the vine-covered rafters overhead, the waitress left them alone on the terrace.
Rafe leaned to the side to fill Annie’s glass with the white wine.
“Here,” he said. “You look like you could use a drink.”
She grimaced, reaching for her glass as he poured his own drink.
If any night called for a drink, this was it.
“I don’t understand,” she said, taking a sip of the wine.
“Don’t understand what?”
“Why don’t I remember Martin?” She gave a frustrated shake of her head. It didn’t matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t dredge up any memory of her life before she moved to Newton with her father. “Surely I shouldn’t have completely forgotten my mother and brother?”
Lifting his hand from her knee, Rafe gently tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart,” he urged softly. “You were only three when your mother died and your brother was taken away.”
“Still—”
“Your father obviously tried to protect you from the past.” Rafe overrode her protest, his hand cupping her cheek. “He would have made sure to replace your bad memories with happy ones.�
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Annie bit her lip. She couldn’t argue with his logic.
Her father had done his very best to make her childhood as close to Leave It to Beaver as possible. She’d always assumed he was trying to make up for the fact her mother and brother had died when she was so young.
Now she had to wonder if it was to erase any potential nightmares.
“He did. He . . .” She forgot what she was going to say as she was struck by a startling realization. Christ. Her mind was clearly mush for it to have taken so long. “Oh.”
Rafe was instantly concerned. “Annie?”
She met his worried gaze. “If Martin was responsible, that means my father was innocent.”
His expression softened. “Yeah.”
A strange rush of relief surged through her, healing a wound that she’d carried for the past fifteen years.
“There was a small part of my heart that always hoped,” she breathed, remembering the nights she’d pulled out her father’s picture to kiss it good night. “Even when it seemed a ridiculous wish.” Her lips twisted. “It shouldn’t make me feel better to know that my own brother is responsible, but it does.”
His fingers lightly brushed her cheek, an oddly comforting gesture that warmed her deep inside.
“We’re going to get through this,” he assured her, his thumb tracing the curve of her lower lip. “I promise.”
When he said it, she believed him.
There was just something so . . . solid about him.
Still, she knew this was bigger than either of them.
“We have to tell someone,” she abruptly announced.
He cocked a dark brow. “Tell someone?”
“The authorities,” she clarified. “They need to see the journals so they can search for my brother. He has to be found before he can take another woman.”
He nodded, the muted light emphasizing the stark beauty of his face.
“Once we get back to Newton I’ll have Max use his contacts with the FBI to pass along the information,” he promised, his fingers skimming down the line of her jaw. “Okay?”
She grimaced. No, it wasn’t really okay. It was what she’d just demanded, of course. It wasn’t like she had a choice. Martin had to be stopped. But while it would be a relief to bring an end to the Newton Slayer, she wasn’t ready for what came after the arrest.
The nasty publicity. The finger-pointing when she walked down the street. The loss of yet another family member.
“I wish—” She broke off her futile words with a shake of her head.
Rafe slid his fingers beneath her chin, forcing her to meet his searching gaze. “What?”
“That Martin had been different,” she confessed in low tones. “That I had someone.”
He leaned forward. “You do.”
“Rafe.”
“Tell me what you want.”
Her mouth went dry at the fierce expression that tightened his features. He was asking for something she wasn’t sure she was prepared to give.
Not until she could be sure he wanted her as a flesh-and-blood woman, and not a damsel in distress.
“Chicken pot pie and wine,” she lamely tried to tease.
The dark eyes narrowed. “For your future.”
She pulled away from his lingering touch, taking a sip of the crisp white wine. “I don’t know.”
“You have to have some idea,” he pressed, a small breeze sneaking through to ruffle his hair. “What did you want to be when you were a little girl?”
“First I thought I wanted to be one of the Olsen twins.”
He cocked a brow. “Olsen twins?”
“They’re famous actresses.” She grimaced. “But after my father died, I wanted to be John Wayne,” she ruefully admitted.
After her life had been turned upside down, she’d desperately longed to be strong and brave and capable of facing any enemy without flinching.
And of course, he was a kick-ass cowboy.
“Perfect.” Rafe’s lips twitched. “My ranch happens to have an opening for the Duke.”
A soft sigh escaped her lips as she became lost in his dark eyes. He always knew exactly what to say, exactly how to tempt and tease until she lost all sense of reality.
“That’s when I was little,” she said, speaking more to herself than the man who was plucking the wineglass from her hand so he could lace their fingers together. “Now I’m an accountant.”
He shook his head. “Your heart isn’t in it.”
She wrinkled her nose. She wasn’t a good enough actress to pretend that sitting in a cubicle crunching numbers was as exciting as being John Wayne.
“Not all of us can afford to be choosy,” she instead said. “I have a condo and rent to pay.”
He shrugged. “Move in with me and I promise not to charge you rent.” He lifted her fingers to press them to his lips. “Plus there will be some perks to your new position.” He turned her hand over, planting a kiss to the center of her palm. “Or should I say . . . positions?”
Heat darted straight between her legs, a thousand butterflies fluttering in the pit of her stomach.
“Rafe,” she chided, her voice not entirely steady. Damn. He shouldn’t start things in public they couldn’t finish. It was downright frustrating. “Behave yourself.”
He nipped the tip of her fingers. “Come to Texas with me.”
She shook her head. “I can’t just walk away from my life.”
“Why not?”
For a crazed moment she didn’t know why not.
She had a job she hated. A condo that felt empty. And an endless number of years stretching before her with a terrifying lack of direction.
So why not give in to madness and head off into the sunset with Rafe Vargas?
“My foster parents went to a lot of effort and spent a great deal of money to make sure I had a viable career.” She finally latched onto one of the few excuses she had left.
“And you feel indebted?”
She flinched. “Indebted” was an ugly word.
But she couldn’t entirely deny that there was a part of her that felt as if she would be a traitor not to accept her foster parents’ plan for her life.
“They deserve my loyalty,” she muttered.
“Fine, you can help me straighten out my accounts. God knows, they’re a mess. Plus we’ll invite your foster parents to visit once you’re settled at the ranch.” He held her gaze, his expression sending a chill of . . . something . . . down her spine. He looked smugly satisfied. As if their future had just been decided. “Any other roadblocks you want to put between us?”
“We barely know each other, Rafe,” she whispered. “You can’t expect me to walk away from everything that’s familiar to me.”
Obviously he did.
His smug expression remained firmly in place.
“You’d be a fool to stay in a boring job and some impersonal condo that your foster parents chose for you instead of taking a risk to be happy,” he informed her.
She couldn’t halt the faint smile that tugged at her lips.
He was a master at hiding his arrogant bossiness behind an irresistible charm. “How can you be so sure you’d make me happy?”
He leaned forward, brushing her lips with a kiss filled with endless promise.
“Because I intend to devote my life to that particular goal.”
Chapter Twenty
She was missing.
Again.
It was unacceptable.
Clearly Rafe Vargas didn’t understand the role he was supposed to play.
His only duty was to keep Annabelle safe, not to interfere in things that were none of his business.
Dammit. The man was as worthless as Annabelle’s father had proven to be.
Which meant that once again his work had to be interrupted. This time, however, he wasn’t taking any chances.
He was going to get rid of Vargas, then he was taking sweet Annabelle far away from here.
The trip back
to Newton was made in near silence.
The adrenaline rush that had allowed her to endure the shocking revelation that her brother was the Newton Slayer, followed by sneaking his journals out of the clinic, had abruptly disappeared just minutes after they’d finished their pot pies, leaving her barely capable of keeping her eyes open.
Or maybe it was the bottle of wine she’d polished off.
Either way, she found herself dozing as they drove through the darkness, soothed by the sway of the truck and the comfort of knowing Rafe was just inches away.
She was dreaming of an isolated ranch and Rafe lying naked in a pile of straw when she sensed they were slowing and turning off the highway.
Giving a shake of her head to clear it of the cobwebs, she forced herself to peer out the window at the sleeping town of Newton. “Wait,” she muttered.
Instantly slowing, Rafe sent her a startled glance. “What’s wrong?”
“We haven’t searched for the missing woman.”
Rafe deliberately glanced toward the dashboard where the clock displayed the time.
2:12 a.m.
“It’s too late tonight.”
She grimaced, her weariness abruptly replaced by a sudden need to be doing something.
Anything.
It was almost as if she could feel her brother’s growing sense of urgency.
“We could at least see if I can recognize something from my vision,” she said.
He blinked, clearly wondering if she was still dreaming. “It’s dark,” he slowly pointed out. “Even if there is something you could recognize, you wouldn’t be able to see it.”
She frowned. Did he have to make sense? “I know, but—”
“Sweetheart, I realize it’s hard, but there’s nothing that can be done until the morning,” he firmly interrupted.
Annie bit her bottom lip, shoving her fingers through her tangled curls. “What if he takes another woman?”
“He won’t.”
She glared at his profile as he rolled to a halt at the four-way stop.
“How do you know?”
“It hasn’t been two days.”
She flinched, wrapping her arms around herself as Rafe pressed on the gas.
“God,” she breathed, shivering at the thought of what the women endured. Whether they were alive or dead, they must have suffered an unimaginable terror when they realized they’d been kidnapped by a crazed serial killer. “Why two days?”
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