Passion's Wicked Torment

by Melissa Hepburne

  “That’s right,” she said, becoming emotional. “That’s right, you didn’t. And the fact of the matter is . . ." She took a deep breath of cold air and braced herself, then said quickly, “You don’t care about me at all, do you? You went to great lengths to make it clear on the ship that you didn’t come to rescue me out of any . . . feelings for me.”

  He didn’t answer. He continued to hold her, though, and Kristin could feel the warmth of his body. She could feel his heartbeat against her breast. And looking at his face now, seeing his undisguised, open expression of love, she realized suddenly that she was wrong.

  It stunned her to realize it, but she could see it clearly now that he had let down the mask of toughness hiding his emotions. He did care for her. She could see it in his eyes. She could sense it from the affectionate way his fingers began caressing the nape of her neck. She had to hear him say it though. There were some things a girl just needed to hear.

  “Dallas,” she said softly, trying but failing to keep the vulnerability out of her voice. “Do you . . . love me?”

  There was a look of tenderness in his eyes, and in answer his face came forward, and he kissed her softly on the lips. When he drew back, she saw that he was weighing in his mind whether to give her a false answer; to not let her know the truth, for whatever strange reasons of his own that were guiding him. But he decided that this was too important to ruin by not being honest. There was too much trust and honesty in Kristin’s expression, and a false answer now would do damage that could never be repaired.

  “Kristin,” he said in a low voice, his eyes burning with intensity, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved any woman. Or ever will.” He bent forward and kissed her passionately.

  Her arms went around him in answer to his own arms, which were hugging her close. “Oh, Dallas,” she said in a small voice. “I love you too.” She had never said these words to any man before. She had always dreamed of the day she would find the man to say them to. Now they came bubbling up from her heart and soul, filling her with warmth.

  They might never get off this island alive, Kristin thought as their limbs intertwined. But at least they would both know the truth; their feelings for each other would no longer be kept hidden. She had reasons for not letting him know her real identity, and evidently he had reasons for not telling her everything there, was to know about himself. But one thing that was no longer buried was their deep feelings for each other. As Hunter held her close, kissing her lovingly on her eyelids and cheeks and chin and throat, she allowed herself the luxury of flowing with his love, relaxing into it, lowering her barriers and soaring aloft with it.

  His hand slipped inside her robe and began caressing her breast, gently pinching her excited nipple. Though she wanted nothing in the world more than to just bask in his love, there was a stab of conscience in her mind, making her realize she did not have the right to let herself go completely now. There was something else that had to be done first, an obligation that must be fulfilled. She had to see if Hunter knew anything that might help her save Chad, or even if—contrary to everything she now believed about him—he himself might have taken part in her brother’s abduction.

  She had to know. And, considering the danger they were in, this might be her only chance to ever find out. “Dallas,” she said softly, trying to phrase the question so it was not too obvious, so it would not put him on his guard. “I want to know more about your . . . work. Tell me what you do?”

  “This is what I do,” he said, his head moving down from her throat to her breast, capturing her nipple in his warm, moist lips. The sensation made her gasp. It was hard to think straight with the deliciously disturbing sensations coming from her body in response to what he was doing to her. But she persevered.

  “In your line of work,” she breathed, “you used to smuggle liquor. And now you run the Crimson Club. And do you ever ... do you ever abduct people off the streets if they get in your way?”

  It was too clumsy, too jarring. He pulled away from her and stared, his brows knit suspiciously. “What the hell is this all about?”

  “I just want to know about your line of work. It excites me! That’s why I wanted to get to know you in And there was no other way, short of asking him out the first place. I like hearing about the things gangsters do.” She continued on trying to soothe the sudden suspiciousness in his eyes. She detested lying to him like this, but she had to find out if he knew about Chad. right.

  “I never liked ordinary people,” she continued, “who did ordinary things for a living. Outlaws, they’re who excites me. Renegades. Like you.” To make it seem believable, she let her eyes show fire and excitement as she said this, and then—as if the thought of his being a renegade inflamed her—she moved her head forward quickly and kissed him on the lips, biting him a little.

  He let her kiss him like this without resisting. But then he pulled his head back and looked at her again. She could see this had worked to a certain extent. He was less suspicious. A side effect, though, had been that it had worked to excite her. Kissing him so brazenly had thrilled her beyond belief. She was breathing shallowly and rapidly now as she looked at him.

  “I don’t like talking about this,” he said. “I do what I do. And I don’t talk about it.” His voice was hard.

  “Even if it excites me to hear it? Tell me what you do when you come up against a man who threatens your business, who gets in your way.”

  He was silent. He stared at her stonily.

  “Do you . . . beat him up?” She lowered her eyelids as if becoming sultry at the thought. “Do you shoot him?” She kissed him on the lips and then all over his face, breathing loudly. She pressed her body against his, letting him feel her full, exicted breasts crushing against his chest.

  He was responding to her ardor. He pulled her more tightly against him, and his knee moved in between her thighs, pressing high up. The sensation was electric, shocking her with pleasure. Though she had been pretending to be excited by his gangster activities, there was no pretense involved in the fact that she. was excited—not by his activities, but by the virility radiating from him and the way his muscular body crushed against hers. His hands roamed freely over her breasts and stomach and down her flanks and legs.

  “Tell me,” she breathed pleadingly. She had to know! She had to find out about Chad!

  “No, damn it. I don’t beat people up unless I have to. I don’t shoot them unless I have to. I do what I have to do.” He continued caressing and stroking her as he spoke. He clearly did not want to speak anymore.

  “And when someone stands in your way,” she sighed, letting her hands roam over his shoulders and down his hairy chest, “do you abduct them right off the street?”

  “Never. I don’t go in for that kind of thing.”

  “Then it wasn’t you who—"

  He silenced her with a deep kiss, his lips crushing hard against hers. He had her robe pulled all the way open now, and his hand brushed over her breasts and down between her thighs. When he gently cupped her womanhood, she gasped with pleasure. The answer seemed clear to her now: He had taken no part in Chad’s abduction. She had had an inkling of this when she saw T.J. during the warehouse raid and recognized him as one of the men who had beaten and abducted Chad. T.J. was Ironman’s henchman, not Dallas’s.

  Now there was only one last thing she needed to know. “If Ironman had someone abducted, a reporter, say, where—” Before she could ask “where would he be taken,” Hunter had pulled away and was glaring at her, his eyes filled with shock and fury. Oh, no! Kristin thought. Had she gone too far and given herself away?

  Hunter glared at her, and he was angrier than she had ever seen him. And, strangely, he also looked hurt. “So that’s what this is all about,” he said hatefully. “What?” she asked desperately.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t tell your boss that you failed.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  He quickly stood up. “Come on. We’re going
down. I’ve had it with being stranded on this island with you. We’re getting out of here if I have to kill to do it.”

  “I don’t understand!” She was completely disoriented. A moment ago he had been caressing her body lovingly. She had felt warm and protected. She had been immersed in feelings of love for him, which he had returned. And now, suddenly, he was furious with her, and even hateful. It had been that last question she had asked. That was what had caused the change. She was not sure how though. Evidently he did not suspect that she was Chad’s sister. What did he mean when he had said he wouldn’t tell her boss that she had failed?

  She could not take time to ask him that now, for he was already moving away from her, starting down the hill in the moonlit darkness. Kristin pulled her robe shut tightly and hurried to follow after him. She called out, “Won’t you please tell me what—”

  “Shut up,” he yelled over his shoulder. “You’ve played me for a fool long enough.”

  “Dallas!” she said in protest. He did not answer. He continued moving down the hill at a fast pace. She followed after him, stumbling in the dark, falling more than once to her hands and knees. He did not stop to look back to see if she was all right. He maintained his pace, evidently not caring if she was capable of following him or not.

  Kristin’s mind was in a turmoil. She did not know why he was acting so angry to her, but she did know she was being exposed to a dangerous, violent new side of him that she could not trust. But what was her alternative? To not follow him and remain on the island? She’d end up in Rooney’s clutches again, back on that brothel ship.

  She picked up her pace so as not to lag behind as he cut through the brush on his way down to the beach. The branches and brush scratched at her legs as she half-walked, half-stumbled forward. The cold night air chilled her. She looked at Hunter’s impervious back and wondered how she could ever have felt any kind of affection for this man. What a fool she had almost become! Thank God she had realized it in time. He was just what he appeared to be, and nothing more: a ruthless, heartless gangster.

  “Hold it.” He held out a hand to keep her from moving past him as he stopped at the base of the hill, near the edge of the trees and brush. He looked out at the beach. His voice was low. “You stay here. I’m going to get us a skiff.”

  She saw that he was looking at the beached skiff that had been used by the three hoods from the Paradise. Two of them were seated around a campfire near the boat—Bill Bonebrake and a man named Caleb. The third hood was gone. Kristin had watched earlier as he left, walking up the coast. Hunter had told her thát the man was leaving to alert the island’s residents to their presence and to offer a reward for their capture.

  The two men seated near the skiff, one of them leaning back against it, were heavily armed. Bonebrake wore a shoulder holster, Caleb a belt holster. Both also had Tommy guns. Bonebrake was speaking, his words indecipherable from this distance. His face was yellow from the glow of the fire. It was an assassin’s face.

  “What are you going to do?” Kristin asked Hunter in a quiet voice.

  “Throw you to the wolves.”

  “What?”

  “Move down to the beach to your left. Stay hidden in the tree line until you get about thirty yards away. Then I want you to burst forward and run into the water.”

  She was shocked. “Won’t they shoot at me?” “Probably. At least they’ll try. Don’t worry. I think I can rush them before they have a chance to draw a bead on you.”

  “You think? You’re talking about my life!”

  “All right, you want to do it the other way around? I’ll go down the beach and rush into the water, and you tackle them and take their guns away while they’re distracted.”

  She glared at him. In that instant she hated him. She believed there was probably some other way of saving themselves. Didn’t he say he had something else in mind earlier, before she had inexplicably angered him by asking those questions? Well, there was nothing she could do about it now. He was not open to reason. And no matter how dangerous the scheme seemed, it was more desirable than trying to get off the island by herself, without his help.

  “There’s just one thing I want to do, Dallas, before I go down the beach and risk my life following your stupid orders. I may not have a chance to do it again, and I don’t want our making love—I don’t Want what happened up there on the hill—to be your last memory of me.”

  “All right,” he said impatiently. “What is this last thing you want to do?”

  “Just this.” She slapped him with all her might.

  He stared at her, more in surprise than anger. She glared at him, then turned her eyes to the men on the beach. The sound had been louder than she expected. Fortunately, though, the breaking of the waves on the shore was loud enough to drown it out. The men had not heard. She started off down the beach, staying low to avoid being seen. Then, when she was a good distance away, she prepared to rush out of her hiding place into plain view toward the sea.

  She felt keyed up. All her nerves were jangled. Her breathing was rapid, and her skin felt prickly. She didn’t want to die. She took a deep breath, then ran out from her hiding place toward the water.

  At first they didn’t see her. There was a good distance between the beach and the tree line. She was halfway to the water when she heard one of the men yell, “Hey! Over there! It’s her!” She poured on the power, running with all her might, feeling the hard wet sand yielding beneath her pounding feet.

  She stumbled. She was on the ground. She looked and saw Caleb aiming at her, while the other one rushed toward her along the sand. Hunter was an apparition off to the side, barely in her field of vision. But with speed that seemed incredible, he sprinted forward, leaping into the air and catching Caleb in a flying tackle, bringing him down. The gun fired, the bullets zinging wildly astray.

  Caleb yelled. This brought Bonebrake to a halt, and he turned back in time to see Hunter wrestling the gun away from Caleb and smashing him in the head with it. Bonebrake fired at Hunter. Hunter raised his Tommy gun but surprisingly did not return the fire.

  Suddenly Kristin understood why. She was in his line of fire. If his bullets missed the hood, they might hit her. She scrambled to her feet and scurried off down the beach. This had taken only a few seconds, but it gave the hood a chance to draw a bead on Hunter. Kristin saw Hunter swivel around as at least one bullet tore into him. He swiveled back and unleashed a long blast. The bullets stitched the sand to the left and right of the hood—and right through his middle. He fell to the ground screaming. His scream ended, the final shrill note hanging in the air.

  Hunter was on his knees. Then he stood and ran toward Kristin. She started toward him. When he was near enough to see that she was unhurt, he turned sharply and moved off toward the boat. “Come on!” he yelled at her.

  He threw his weapon into the skiff and began pushing it out to sea. She reached the boat and helped him. She could see that his upper arm was bleeding profusely, but he did not seem to be hit anywhere else. The boat was in the water now, and Hunter told her to get in. He jumped in also. He pulled the cord several times before the motor sprang to life, roaring loudly. Off in the distance, Kristin saw other men hurrying down the beach, drawn by the gunfire. The man in the lead was the third hood from the Paradise. The boat roared out to sea and beyond the range of any of their weapons.

  “You’re hurt,” she said, going up to him as he sat in the stem, holding the keel steady with one hand.

  Hunter said nothing. He watched the men on the beach grow tiny as the distance increased. Kristin told him to take off his shirt. Then she soaked it in the icy sea water and washed his wounded arm. There was a large gash, but the bullet evidently had not remined in his arm; it appeared to be a crease. He winced as the salt water mingled with his blood. She tied the shirt tightly around his upper arm to stanch the flow of blood.

  “Do we have enough fuel to get back to the mainland?” she asked.

  “You better hope so.�
� That was all he said during the entire trip back. He was still angry at her, and she didn’t know why. At dawn they reached the coast off New York City. A harbor patrol boat spotted them, and though Hunter tried to lose it, it was far swifter than the skiff. They were taken aboard. Hunter’s wound was properly cleaned, and he was given an emergency bandage. When they reached the harbor, they were held while the police were summoned.

  They were questioned at length. They lied. Then both of them were taken away in separate police cars.

  CHAPTER 11

  Hunter lay on his back on the cot, alone in the closed room of the county lockup. He cursed himself for being so stupid. It was not often that he let himself act in such a crazy, emotional way. It was not often that he acted so insanely as to fall in love.

  He slammed his fist down on the side of the cot. Idiot! Right from the start he’d been attracted to her. It was her spirit, her style, her class—her total personality. She was the kind of woman who appealed to the deepest part of him. The kind he wanted to protect and care for and. . . .

  Stop being a fool, he cursed himself as he stood up and began to pace around. Things are bad enough without my becoming maudlin to boot. Kristin was only the second girl in his life he had ever fallen in love with. The first girl, Sabrina St. Claire, he had met during the war. He had been too irresponsible and wild then . . . too in love with adventure to ever settle down. He had given her up to another man, a British commando who would make her a far better husband than Hunter ever would have.

  Now he was in love with Kristin, more deeply in love than he had ever believed possible. And for the first time in his life he had been ready to give up his bachelor ways and consider settling down, raising a family. She was the woman he had always dreamed of, the woman who would make him happy as his wife and as the mother of his children. He had not let her see this, though, during the weeks they had lived together. How could he? He couldn’t let her know the truth about himself. And besides, though he loved the kind of woman she was, he despised her infatuation with the world of violence. Wanting to become a moll—what kind of ambition was that for a girl like her?