Baby, I'm Yours

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Baby, I'm Yours Page 26

by Susan Andersen


  “I told you about the damn flanking maneuver. And I’ve been dragging you around the countryside for days—you wouldn’t even be here for Chains to hurt if I hadn’t snatched you from your house.”

  “My sister ditched me, knowing damn well you’d mistake me for her. So why isn’t it her fault? Or no, wait, let’s take this back even further. My mother gave birth to me. Since I’m not responsible for my own actions, I guess everything that’s happened to me since the day I was born must be her fault.”

  “Christ, I’m getting a headache.” He was also fully aroused, he realized. She might be totally infuriating, but he couldn’t deny she was one exciting woman. He quit massaging his forehead and slid the flat of his hands down her warm, round ass, sinking his fingers in to pull her near. Leaning back from the waist, he looked down into her flushed face and then lower still. She was wearing her sister’s revealing clothing again, and he presented her with his most reasonable expression as he rotated his pelvis lightly against her. “Life’s too short, Red. What say you and me quit sweatin’ the small stuff and…”

  “I don’t believe you!” She was a sudden flurry of elbows, knees, and shoving hands, and the next thing he knew, he was standing outside the motel room, staring at a closed and locked door.

  “Red?” He thumped it with his fist. “Catherine! Let me in.” Silence greeted his command, and he hit the panel harder. “Open the damn door, I said.”

  An anatomically impossible suggestion was the only reply he received, and, swearing, he shoved away from the door. Clearly there was no talking to her while she was in such an unreasonable mood.

  He found a coffee shop downstairs and sat down to brood over the illogical emotionalism of women. Damn—why couldn’t they be more like men? Analytical, rational. But, no. To hear them tell it, a guy would think taking his responsibilities seriously was a bad thing.

  “Damn, son, you gotta pay more attention when I’m talkin’ to ya.”

  He rolled his shoulders uneasily and nodded a curt thanks to the waitress who stopped by the table to top off his cup.

  He paid attention.

  Didn’t he?

  Hell, yeah. Just because he didn’t want to see his friend’s entire life messed up, merely so he could shrug off what he knew was his duty to run off and join the police force, didn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention. That was like saying he should stand by and watch a train wreck, when he could prevent the damn thing by kicking the debris that would derail it off the tracks. Seeing the frigging debris was paying attention.

  Maybe you should trust and respect your friends’ abilities. Maybe we’d like to be accountable for our own actions.

  Sam’s fist slammed down on the tabletop. Silverware clattered and several people swung around to see what the commotion was. A flush climbed his throat. Hunching his shoulders, he stared down into the impenetrable black surface of the coffee in his cup.

  Damn her. Why couldn’t she leave it alone? He was just trying to do what was right here. He was striving to pay off a debt that could never be repaid. He was…

  Shit. He was an arrogant ass. Dudley Do-Right McKade, who thought his opinion was the only one that mattered, riding to the rescue once again.

  Even if nobody needed or wanted to be saved.

  Ah, man, what a joke. You’re not in the army now, boy. You’re no longer the senior ranking noncom whose motto is The Buck Stops Here. Get used to it.

  Oh, God, and had he really tried to run an end play around Red’s arguments with the suggestion of sex?

  He was a dead man.

  He sat and stewed about it over another cup of coffee, trying to find a way out of the hole he’d dug himself.

  Flowers. Maybe if he got her some nice flowers, she’d let him back in the room some time today. All women liked posies, didn’t they? Maybe he should call Gary back—his friend had always been lots better with women than he was.

  He asked at the desk, but there wasn’t a florist shop anywhere nearby. Big surprise—that would have been too simple. Well, that was that, then. Even though the chance of Chains putting in an appearance now was slim to none, only an idiot would waltz off and leave a threatened woman unprotected. He’d just have to go back to the room empty-handed.

  Then the girl at the desk told him about a supermarket down the street that sold fresh-cut flowers. He could be there and back in five minutes, she said.

  He almost leaned over the desk and kissed her on the spot. You just had to appreciate someone who’d quite possibly just saved your sorry butt.

  Catherine heard the knock on the door and scowled. She’d seen Sam’s key sitting on the tabletop after she’d thrown him out—did she really want to let him in?

  No, she did not; she was still angry. On the other hand, what choice did she have? They were in this thing together, and besides, she could hardly drive how stupid he was being through his thick head if she made him stand out in the hallway all afternoon. With a long-suffering sigh, she yanked open the door.

  And jumped in surprise to see her twin standing on the other side.

  “Surprise,” Kaylee said in her trademark throaty voice.

  “Déjà vu,” Catherine retorted blankly. Looking beyond her sister to the tall, black-haired man behind her, she added, “Except you weren’t here the last time we did this. The much revered Bobby LaBon, I presume.”

  Kaylee tripped across the threshold and threw herself into her sister’s arms, and Catherine hugged her back convulsively, suffused with a fierce joy that Kaylee had come after her.

  “I’m sorry, Cat,” Kaylee murmured in her ear as she gripped her fervently to her lush breast. “I’m so sorry I threw you into the middle of this.”

  “Yes, about that,” Catherine said in sudden fury, pushing back to stare into her twin’s face. “Do you know that Jimmy Chains Whatshisname has been trying his utmost to kill me? Look at me!” She spread her arms so her sister could take a look at the scratches and bites that marred her skin.

  “I know, you look great!”

  “Great? I rode a car down a cliff, I got dragged through the woods where I had to spend the night, I had a close encounter with a spider, and you say I look great? Look at me, Kaylee! I’m a mess!”

  “Oh, my God, a spider? Ah, Catherine, I’m sorry.”

  “And well you should be—it scared the bejesus outta me. If Sam—”

  “But those little bitty scratches hardly even show, and Sis, you look so good wearing some decent clothing for a change. Speaking of which, where’s my suitcase? The weather these past few days has been hell on my complexion, and you’ve got all my good cosmetics.”

  “How do I break this to you, Kaylee? Your precious cosmetics are in the trunk of the car Jimmy Chains forced over the cliff.”

  She watched her sister pale as the reality of Catherine’s situation apparently sank in for the first time. Bobby, who had been observing the byplay between them like a spectator at a tennis match, grasped Kaylee above the elbow and steered her away from the door, which he closed behind them.

  “She gets a little sidetracked sometimes,” he told Catherine. “But she’s been bustin’ her hump trying to get to you.”

  “He drove you off a cliff?” Kaylee wailed. “What else?”

  “Pointed a gun at me a couple of times. Tried to run me down.” She shoved a hand through her hair. “At least I think that was him. Look, come in out of the hallway,” she invited. “We can talk. I’m really glad to see you, Kaylee. It means a lot that you came after me.”

  She led the way into the motel room. Bobby flopped down into a chair, but Kaylee remained standing, staring at Catherine in distress.

  Her first words, however, were ones of admiration. “The way you slowed down the bounty hunter was nothing short of genius, Cat. I didn’t know you had it in you to break so many rules.”

  “Guess I’m more like you than either of us ever would have thought, huh?”

  Kaylee grinned. “Guess you are. And you’re never gonna beli
eve this, but I’ve actually got some of your less than exciting characteristics myself. So, how did you ever get away from him?”

  “Get away from whom?”

  “The bounty hunter, of course.” Kaylee looked at her in sudden horror. “Oh, my God, Cat. You did shake him, didn’t you? Please. Tell me he’s not still here.”

  Sam should have figured five minutes was an optimistic time frame. It was closer to twenty by the time he stepped off the elevator and made his way to their room, a bunch of tulips clutched in one hand. He knocked on the door and wasn’t surprised when Catherine failed to answer it.

  He had a feeling she was going to make him work to regain her approval.

  Well, he’d never get anywhere standing out here in the hall. He used the key the desk girl had supplied when he’d confessed he’d locked himself out, and opened the door. “Red?” he called softly. “I come bearing peace offerings, darlin’.”

  He walked down the short hallway. The drapes were open over the large window dead ahead, and he found himself looking almost directly into the sun. Raising the cellophane-wrapped tulips to shade his eyes, he squinted against the glare.

  He was all the way into the motel room before he saw the dark-haired man seated in one of the easy chairs. And standing next to Catherine, he saw as his eyes adjusted, was her double.

  Red’s twin held a gun in her hand. She had about as much expertise as her sister in the handling of firearms, but it was nevertheless pointed determinedly, if less than steadily, right at his chest.

  24

  CATHERINE HAD DROPPED her bombshell only moments before, and its sheer unexpectedness had caught Kaylee flat-footed. With no time to recover from the shock, she’d snatched Bobby’s gun out of her purse when she’d heard Sam’s voice, ignoring both Bobby’s and Cat’s protests. Then, before she could even say “boo,” the bounty hunter was suddenly in the room as well. He was big and dark and terrifying, despite the incongruous bunch of flowers in his huge fist and the soft tone of voice for her sister.

  Though her heart was trying its utmost to pound its way out of her chest, he didn’t seem particularly fazed. “Kaylee MacPherson, I take it,” he drawled. He slowly lowered the flowers shading his whiskey brown eyes, which narrowed behind their screen of black lashes. “Put the gun down before somebody gets hurt,” he commanded curtly. Ignoring her entirely, as if her compliance was to be taken for granted, he turned to Catherine and extended the cellophane-wrapped tulips. “Here,” he growled. “These are for you. I’m sorry about earlier—I guess maybe I was a jerk.”

  Catherine reached out to accept the offering thrust at her, and clutched the damp bundle to her chest. Her nervous gaze remained glued to the wobbling gun. “Kaylee, please,” she implored.

  Kaylee wasn’t accustomed to having a man totally disregard her. “Listen up, bud,” she said to Sam’s profile. “We aren’t looking for any trouble. We’re just going to collect Cat and then we’re outta here. There’s no need for anybody to get hurt.”

  Sam turned his head to look at her. “Get a new plan, lady. You’re not taking her anywhere.”

  The blazing determination in his eyes sent Kaylee stumbling a hasty step backward. Then she caught herself and drew erect, thrusting out both chin and chest. “Listen, mister, I’ve got the gun here. You’re not the one calling the shots.”

  The next thing she knew, she was staring down the barrel of his gun. Jayzus Jean, where had that come from? She hadn’t even seen him draw the thing. “Bobby.” To her eternal humiliation, her voice squeaked several octaves higher than normal, cracking on the first syllable.

  Bobby came half out of the chair, but Sam’s quiet command to sit down and the unwavering hand pointing the gun at Kaylee caused him to sink back onto the cushions.

  “Sam!” Catherine wailed in protest, but he ignored her, too.

  He looked at Kaylee, wondering how he’d ever confused Catherine for her. They looked alike, yes. But once you knew the individuals, the differences were more striking than the similarities. “Bend down nice and slow and put the gun on the floor,” he instructed her. She didn’t respond quickly enough to suit him, and he snapped, “Do it!”

  She did it.

  “Now, push it over here with your foot.”

  Sulkily she kicked it across the carpet.

  He picked it up and tucked it, along with his own, in the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back. Then he straightened and grinned with impartial cheer at the three people in front of him. “Well, now, this sure is an interesting situation, isn’t it?”

  “More interesting than you might’a thought,” came a new voice from the doorway, and Sam, uttering a vicious, low-voiced obscenity, slowly turned.

  Jimmy Chains walked down the short hallway. He raised a hand to shield his eyes as he stepped into the main body of the room, but at the same moment Sam realized the man’s vision was impaired, Chains swung his gun around to cover him.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he barked. “In fact, I’d think twice, if I were you, about taking a really deep breath. Even half-blind you make a big enough target to hit, and frankly, asshole, you’re beginning to seriously hack me off.”

  “Don’t want that,” Sam muttered, but Chains wasn’t listening. He was staring beyond him, his mouth agape.

  “Twins?” he croaked. “Y’all are friggin’ twins?”

  “Well, I’m not sure that’s the adjective I’d use,” Catherine began, only to have Kaylee clamp a hand around her forearm and squeeze warningly.

  Chains wasn’t even listening. “Which one of y’all’s Kaylee?” he demanded.

  The sisters exchanged glances. Then, in unison, they turned back to Chains and said, “Me.”

  “Catherine,” Sam snapped, at the same time that Bobby muttered, “Ah, shit.”

  Chains turned to the men. “So, who’s who, then?”

  Both men gave him a flat stare, and he snapped, “I’ll fuckin’ shoot ’em both.”

  “No you won’t,” Bobby disagreed. “Kaylee’s sister’s got nothing to do with this—she just got caught up in the mess. The Jimmy Chains I know could never gun down an innocent woman in cold blood.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” But Chains didn’t pursue it. He waved the gun at the men. “Get up, Bobby. And you, asshole, turn around.” He made a circling gesture with his gun. “Assume the position, both of you.”

  Sam and Bobby placed their hands flat against the nearest wall and spread their feet, standing still while Chains patted them down for weapons. He removed the two guns from Sam’s waistband. “Got me a righteous little arsenal,” he murmured happily as he tucked them into his own waistband and stepped back. He pulled a length of rope from his pocket.

  “You’re gonna have to lend me a hand here, girls.” He handed the rope to Catherine. “You two,” he said to the men. “Lie back-to-back on the bed, hands behind you. Tie their wrists,” he instructed her. “Shit, what do we use for their ankles? If I’d knowed there was gonna be two, I’d’a brought more rope.” He looked around the room and crossed to the open drapes. Using his pocketknife, he cut the draw cords and thrust them at Kaylee. “Here. Tie their feet.”

  Several minutes later the men were neatly trussed, and Chains stood at the side of the bed to observe them with satisfaction. Hah! If all the assholes who’d ever called him stupid could only see him now.

  Grinning, he stepped back. “Ladies.” He gestured expansively, indicating the twins should precede him down the hallway. “After you.” He laughed out loud as he closed the motel-room door behind them.

  He wasn’t nearly so pleased an hour later. Damn. He couldn’t just keep driving around with two really built redheads in the car. They were way too conspicuous, and for all he knew the cops could be hot on his tail. He needed to get off the road and come up with a plan.

  Twins. Man oh man, who the hell woulda thought it? And what the fuck was he supposed to do with the one wasn’t Kaylee? He’d
barely resigned himself to doing what had to be done to her, and it sure wasn’t something he looked forward to. After all the frustration of chasing her around the country, it didn’t seem quite as impossible as it had when he’d set out from Miami, but he didn’t fool himself into thinking that it was gonna be easy, either.

  He sure as hell didn’t want to have to do the other one, too. So where did that leave him? And how did he figure out just who was who?

  He pulled into the parking lot of a nice chain motel. If they had to be holed up for a while, it wasn’t going to be in some fleabag, backwoods motor court. Parking close to the office, he turned to face his prisoners. “I’m gonna check us in. You two sit tight.” He pinned them in place with a fierce stare. “I mean it. If I have to come chasing y’all down, I’ll just friggin’ shoot ya both and call it good. I’m tired of these nowhere burgs in goddamn Pioneerland. I wanna go back to civilization, and I ain’t gonna be held up no longer than I gotta be.” He climbed out of the car and slammed the door.

  The sisters immediately turned to each other. “Are you all right?” they demanded simultaneously and then Kaylee added, “Jayzus, Cat, I’m sorry. This is such a mess.”

  “So, what do we do to make it better? I’ve got Sam’s handcuffs. I took them when Chains was fooling around with the drapery cords.” Catherine hooked a finger into her cleavage and pulled them out a fraction of an inch to show her sister, then tucked them back in. “I don’t have the key, so if they get into his hands we’re sunk. If we get a chance to use them first, though…”

  “I slipped Bobby my nail scissors,” Kaylee said. “It might take ’em a while to hack through those cords, but they’ll be after us soon.”

  “How will they find us, though?”

  Kaylee told her about their computer genius.

  “Well, that’s all fine and dandy,” Catherine agreed. “But it’ll only be effective if Chains uses a credit card to pay for the room. He’d have to be a total idiot…” She saw her sister’s raised eyebrow and felt a slow smile crook up one corner of her mouth. “Okay. It’s beyond dumb to think he can leave all the witnesses he’s leaving and still get away with this, so I guess using a credit card is not outside the realm of possibility. He really isn’t very bright, is he?”

 

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