She swallowed, not finishing her statement. She didn’t have to. He understood.
“We were unable to have physical relations for more than a year before he died,” she confessed quietly, a soft anguish on her features.
Noah’s chest tightened. Mercer was a beautiful, vivacious young woman. He knew that she had loved her husband, but it had also cost her a lot. He ran a finger gently over the bruise that the seatbelt had left, unable to not touch her. “So, we put an end to your dry spell tonight.”
“I mean, I do want a child but I don’t want you to think that I was trying to—”
“Use me as a stud service?”
She actually laughed, and he was glad for it.
It was all that Noah could do to not make love to her again. Still, his heart felt heavy despite the soft curves that were snuggled against him. Things seemed calm now, but he worried that they were simply in the eye of the storm. His job was to keep her safe. He couldn’t let himself think beyond that.
“My three hours are up.” He kissed her temple as he held her in his arms. “Close your eyes and try to get some sleep.”
Chapter Twenty
“How is she?” Mark asked, worried, as Samantha descended the curved staircase inside the Big House. He had been pacing in the home’s wide foyer.
“Olivia took a sedative but I don’t think it’s doing much.” Walking to where her husband stood, she slid her hand up his arm. “Anders is sitting with her now.”
After learning what had happened, the family had set up camp here yesterday. Anders and Olivia had driven up from Charleston and spent the night, in fact, insisting that they all needed to be under one roof at a time like this. Olivia had convinced herself that the police would find Mercer overnight. When they didn’t, she had grown increasingly despondent.
“Mom’s had anxiety attacks before,” Mark said. “Do you think that’s what this is?”
There was a tightness around Samantha’s eyes. “If it is, she has good reason.”
“Yeah,” Mark agreed hoarsely. They all did.
At the sound of Carter’s voice in tense conversation, both Mark and Samantha peered into the front parlor. Standing in the morning sunlight in front of windows framed by ice-blue, silk drapes, Carter had his cellphone pressed to his ear, his posture rigid.
“He’s on the phone with his manager in LA. The film’s producer, the director—they’re all giving him hell,” Mark told Samantha in a low voice. “The halt in production is costing a fortune, but he’s refusing to fly back until we know something.”
What felt like talons closed around Mark’s heart once more. It was hard to believe that just yesterday morning, he had stood by as Mercer left with the detectives, on their way to hand her over to the U.S. Marshals Service and its Federal Witness Protection Program. Where she was supposed to be safe. His stomach felt rock-hard. Now, no one knew where she was or whether she was even alive. The captain of the Charleston Police Department had called Mark personally with news of what had happened, and two of his detectives had visited the family last night, letting them know as much as they did at that time. The last sighting of her had been at a diner near St. Matthews where a shoot-out had occurred. Now two men who had been posing as U.S. Marshals were deceased and Detective Beaufain was in serious condition with a gunshot wound to the abdomen. The vehicle Mercer had fled the diner in with Noah Ford had been located early that morning, wrecked and abandoned in a floodplain near the Upper Santee Swamp.
According to witnesses at the diner, three vehicles had been in pursuit of their car. It went without saying that it was Lex Draper and his allies.
Sheriff’s deputies and other law enforcement were combing the area for them, the police captain had assured Mark. Everything they could do was being done. But Mark figured that the men who wanted his sister dead were out there looking for her, too, unless they had found and killed her and Noah Ford already. He tried to tamp down his panic, his rising grief. But he couldn’t stop the gut-wrenching images of their bodies being somewhere out there in the swamp. He passed a hand over his eyes, wanting his little sister back so badly that his heart hurt.
“They’re going to find her, Mark,” Samantha said. “We have to keep believing that. We can’t give up hope.”
Mark took a breath. He had to stay strong for the rest of them. He briefly closed his eyes as Samantha hugged him.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“Where’s Quinn?” Carter asked. Off the phone, he stood in the doorway between the parlor and foyer. He appeared tired and stressed.
“She’s with the children in the playroom, keeping them occupied. I’m going to go make a late breakfast for everyone.” Samantha touched Carter’s arm. “You look like you need some sleep, Carter. Why don’t you take one of the guest rooms upstairs for a few hours?”
“No, thanks. I can’t eat, either, but I could use some coffee, Sam, if you’re making some.”
“Of course.” She divided a heartfelt look between Mark and Carter. “We’re going to get her back. I refuse to believe otherwise.”
The men watched as she headed to the kitchen. Mark knew that Carter and Quinn had arrived from their home on the north side of town well before daybreak. Like Olivia and Anders, they had wanted to be with family. Carter had carried a sleeping Lily into the house and put her in bed with Emily. He dragged a hand through his hair, faint lines of tension fanning out from his famous, midnight-blue eyes. “How’s Mom doing?”
“Not good.”
It was Carter’s turn to pace. “I’m going to the police station. I want to talk to the captain and the detectives again.”
“If there was anything new, I’m sure they would’ve told us. And your being there is just going to add to the chaos. We don’t need anything to distract the police from what they’re doing.”
Carter threw out his hands. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing! If you don’t want me at the police station, then let’s go up there where they found the car and look for her ourselves.” He drew in a tense breath. “They found blood in the car, Mark. She could be injured. And to top it off, they’re calling for heavy rain up there overnight. They’re talking about flooding. That’s going to impact the search.” His voice roughened with emotion. “I got here too late to say goodbye to her yesterday. What if that was my last chance to ever see her again?”
Mark braced his hand on his brother’s shoulder. He felt the same fear and desperation. But there were dozens of law enforcement officers and a search and rescue team with dogs already up there. He wished again that he had stepped in and kept Mercer from cooperating with the police, somehow.
Noah Ford had promised to keep Mercer safe. Mark prayed that he remained true to his word.
He couldn’t help it; he thought back to two bodies that had been disposed of in the government-protected salt marsh preserve not far from here. That had been more than seven years ago. His lungs squeezed as he wondered if karma might have reared its ugly head. Chances were that if Mercer and Noah Ford were dead, their remains might never be located, either. If Lex Draper and his men had killed them, they wouldn’t want the bodies to be found. The thought of his sister being executed without mercy weakened his knees.
“I’m going up there,” Carter said, emphatic. “Are you coming with me or—”
He stopped as Anders appeared on the upstairs landing. Worry churned inside Mark.
“We need to call an ambulance,” Anders said. “Olivia’s having chest pains.”
It had been a night for dreaming. But while Noah had warred with his past in his own troubled subconscious, after she had fallen asleep, Mercer had dreamed of Jonathan.
He had been standing on the beach at sunset, dressed in slacks and a loose linen shirt, looking the way he did before illness had ravaged him. She had called out to him from a distance but he merely smiled at her, the breeze ruffling his salt-and-pepper hair. Then he lifted his hand in a goodbye wave before turning and walking off across the sand.
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Mercer now lay alone in a strange bed. With a sigh, she sat up with the sheets tucked around her naked body. The lamp on the bureau had been snuffed out, leaving the room in grainy darkness. She ran a hand through her mussed hair, guessing that it was morning based on the chirping of birds outside. Rising from the bed, she took the top sheet with her and wrapped it around herself. She noticed that Noah’s weapon was missing from the nightstand, although her wedding rings remained, their delicate, serpentine chain pooled around them. Thinking again of Jonathan, a lingering guilt washed over her, but she left the rings where they were for now.
Last night with Noah seemed like a dream itself, a hazy, erotic interlude that had been a respite from the mayhem that had taken over her world.
Leaving the bedroom, to her surprise she came face to face with Noah in the hall. There was a little natural light coming from the cabin’s front, and she figured that he had pulled back the dark window coverings she had hung over the closed blinds. He was dressed, wearing the same T-shirt and jeans from last night, although he also had on a pair of boat shoes that no doubt belonged to Detective Beaufain.
“I…was just going to the bathroom,” she explained, conscious of her nudity under the sheet and feeling suddenly awkward.
He held out a mug to her. “I was bringing this to you. I left the other lamp in the bathroom. There’s a bottled water in there, too, in case you want to brush your teeth.”
Mercer breathed in the pleasant aroma of coffee. Last night, she had used the old-fashioned, antique French press in the kitchen. It hadn’t been as difficult as she’d expected. Apparently, Noah knew how to use it, too.
“Thanks.” She accepted the mug. Her stomach fluttered as Noah cupped her face, his thumb stroking gently over her cheekbone. His hazel eyes held concern.
“You okay this morning?”
Mercer nodded, a sensual warmth spreading through her at the thought of their lovemaking. Lowering her gaze almost shyly from his, she took a sip of the rich brew. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
She turned and went into the bathroom. But as she closed the door behind her, the lamplight flickering over the beadboard paneling, she wondered if her dream hadn’t been Jonathan’s way of reaching out to her, assuring her once more that it was okay for her to move on.
As Mercer entered the cabin’s front, Noah regarded her over the rim of his coffee mug. He stood in front of the stove.
“Protein or granola bars for breakfast—your choice,” he commented.
She thought of the remaining food that included a half-dozen more bars, two cans of tuna, and a few cans of chili and soup. “It’s food, though, right? At least we’re not having to fish for our breakfast just yet.”
Mercer had dressed again in the borrowed clothing from yesterday, although she now wore her underwear underneath them. Reaching for the glass coffee press, she refilled the mug that she had brought with her from the cabin’s rear. She noticed that the kitchen was tidier than she had left it last night, the dishes she had rinsed and left in the sink after dinner now washed and put away. “You cleaned up.”
He shrugged. “It’s an ingrained habit. I’ve been told I’m kind of a neat freak.”
“So, you do have a flaw.” Mercer smiled softly at him. “I was beginning to wonder.”
She left the coffee that she had just poured on the counter, intending to get a granola bar from the pantry, but Noah stepped forward at the same time and their bodies brushed against one another in the tight space. With the shadow of blue-black stubble on his jaw, his hazel eyes and tousled, dark hair, he appeared rakish, almost dangerous. Looking up at him, Mercer realized that they had both stilled, their bodies still touching, caught in one another’s gravity. Noah’s gaze was serious and intense as he towered over her. She laid her palms against his chest, a pleasant shiver running through her as she felt his strong arms encircle her.
Her lips parting, she raised her face to meet his kiss. It was slower and more unhurried than last night.
Maybe we’re both crazy, she thought, her mind dulled by his mouth and his touch. Noah’s hands slid leisurely down her sides before cupping and squeezing her bottom. Her stomach fluttered as he easily picked her up and sat her on the counter’s edge. He molded his hands to her breasts, sending a hot current of want through her. They remained like that—kissing, exploring one another’s bodies through their clothing—until Mercer’s hands slid under Noah’s T-shirt to meet the warm silk of his skin.
She gasped into his mouth as he picked her up again. Her legs wrapped around his hips as, mouths still joined, he moved with her toward the couch.
They froze, however, at the tinny crash that came from outside.
The desire that had been simmering inside Mercer morphed quickly into fear. The cans that were in the tree.
Someone had tripped the wire.
Eyes locked on hers, Noah lowered her feet back to the floor.
“Don’t go out there, Noah. Please,” she whispered, her pulse racing.
But he was already reaching for his weapon that lay on the kitchen counter. Disabling the safety and racking the gun’s slide, he moved carefully to a window. He lifted the blinds’ edge just enough to peer out.
“What do you see?” Mercer’s lowered voice sounded breathy with dread.
Noah went to another window and looked out from there, too. “Nothing. There’re no boats or cars. I’m going to go have a look.”
Panic squeezed her lungs. “What if it’s them and they see you?”
“I don’t think it’s them. They’d be here as a group and they wouldn’t be arriving on foot. But I still want to know who or what it is. Stay here.” Opening the door an inch, Noah peered out again. Then, his gun held at the ready, he walked onto the porch and closed the door behind him with a soft snick.
Mercer forced herself to breathe as she waited, her ears straining for any noise. Just a few minutes ago, they had been about to make love again. But the reality of the danger they were in had now settled over her once more like a chilling mist. She sighed in relief when Noah returned and locked the door behind him.
“It’s a freaking alligator,” he grumbled. “It’s only about six feet, so it’s relatively young.”
Mercer’s tone held dismay. “What’s it doing up here on land?”
“I didn’t ask.” Noah placed his weapon on the coffee table. “I’m just glad it didn’t come across the pit or those bear traps. I’d just as soon not have a pissed-off gator on our hands. They can make a lot of noise when they’re injured and putting it out of its misery wouldn’t be possible.”
A gunshot could give them away to the men who were looking for them, Mercer realized.
“An alligator.” She shook her head in disbelief. “And I thought all we had to worry about out here were armed assassins.”
Noah walked to her. Taking her hands in his, she felt a pang as he lifted one of them to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. But the scare seemed to have put a damper on what they had been about to do.
“We’ve been missing for twenty-four hours.” Mercer voiced the thought that had been niggling at her. “If Detective Beaufain survived, wouldn’t he have—”
“We don’t know his condition,” Noah interjected. “He was losing a lot of blood. Even if he survived, chances are he might not be conscious and able to communicate yet.”
She nodded, doing her best to hold on to hope.
Noah released a tense breath. “But if no help is coming, we have enough food for a few more days out here if we’re careful with it.”
“And then what?”
“I don’t know.” His features were somber. “But the one thing I am certain of is that these men are still out there somewhere. They wouldn’t have given up this soon. There’s always the risk they could find us here, but we run into them out there and we won’t stand a chance. Every day we can remain in hiding increases the chance they’ll give up and go.”
“What about law enforcement?” Mercer at
tempted to reason. “I understand that you think there’s someone who’s been feeding Draper information, but there have to be good guys out there looking for us, too.”
Noah frowned. “There are. But they’re probably focusing on the area where we left the car and are fanning out from there, figuring that we’re on foot. Draper and his group know we left by boat and the general direction we were headed.”
He didn’t have to say more. Mercer felt a chill.
If anyone did find them, chances were much stronger that it would be the men who wanted them dead.
Chapter Twenty-One
Mark had been leaning against the wall in the Charleston hospital’s corridor, but he straightened as he recognized Detective Durand traveling past him. Mark had met him just the night before since he was one of the interim leads assigned to the investigation in Detective Beaufain and Detective Ford’s absence.
“Detective Durand,” Mark called out, halting him.
“Mr. St. Clair.” There was surprise in the other man’s voice as he waited for Mark to reach him. They shook hands. “What brings you here?”
“My mother, unfortunately.” Mark felt a heaviness inside him. Once the small medical center in Rarity Cove had determined that Olivia hadn’t had a heart attack, they’d sent her here by ambulance to the larger hospital for more thorough testing. “She had a pretty severe incident this morning. They’re running some tests.”
The detective appeared sympathetic. “God. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” Mark clasped the back of his neck. “Is there anything new in the search?”
“Unfortunately, I haven’t received any new information.” Durand shifted his stance to allow a nurse pushing an EKG cart to pass. “Detective Garber—you also met him last night—is taking part in the search and rescue mission with the Sumter and Calhoun County Sheriff’s Offices. I’m sure he’ll be in touch the second there’s news.” Appearing distracted, he looked down the hall before speaking again. “I apologize, but you’ll have to excuse me, Mr. St. Clair. I’m actually here on business.”
In Dark Water (Rarity Cove Book 3) Page 17