Travis skirted the house, going around the right side and then cutting across the front to his truck. The keys were in the ignition, and the doors were unlocked. He circled to the other side and placed Wendy in the back seat, sparing a moment to bind her wrists with flexible restraints and handcuff her to the bench seat. As against being rescued as she’d been, he wasn’t about to have her run away.
Bang!
His body went rigid at the report of a gun. Some sort of shotgun. From inside the house.
Bliss.
Travis pushed backward out of the truck and stared at the house through the windshield.
Not Bliss.
Something inside him broke, and he barely contained the urge to scream. She couldn’t be dead. He was right here.
A small figure lurched out of the front door, dark hair obscuring her face, but he knew that figure.
Bliss.
He sprinted toward her and met her almost halfway to the house.
“Are you hurt?” His gun was in his hand. He didn’t even remember drawing it.
“Run.” She pushed him.
A man filled the doorway, a twelve-gauge shotgun in his hand.
Travis fired first, aiming wildly as he pushed Bliss ahead of her, shielding her with his body.
“In the truck,” Travis yelled.
He fired again, but the man he assumed was Daniel Campbell was out of sight.
Bliss skidded around the front of the SUV while he climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
“Are you hurt?” he yelled.
Job or no, if Bliss was shot, he’d go in there, rip that shotgun out of Daniel’s hands and shoot him full of buckshot.
“No, no. Where’s Wendy? Oh my God, Wendy!”
Travis shifted into gear and whipped the SUV around, spraying gravel in his wake. The job wasn’t over until the girls were out of danger.
BLISS CRAWLED INTO the backseat of the truck. It bounced down the gravel road, knocking her off-balance. Wendy was always petite, but her hollowed out cheeks were gaunt and her skin was ashen.
“What—why is she handcuffed?” Bliss crouched in the floorboard and pushed Wendy’s hair off her brow.
“She was traumatized,” Travis said over his shoulder. “Didn’t know I wouldn’t hurt her.”
“You—what? Knocked her out and handcuffed her?” Was that seriously how he handled hostages?
“Yes.”
She glanced at the back of Travis’ head. He was serious. For a moment, she was torn between outrage and relief. She couldn’t find it in her to be angry with him either way. He’d found Wendy, when the cops wouldn’t even pretend to look. Her baby sister was coming home. Alive.
Bliss knelt and pressed a kiss to Wendy’s forehead. She held her sister’s hands, rubbing some warmth back into them despite being jostled and tossed around. Travis seemed determined to push the vehicle to unholy speeds. Granted, she wanted as far away from that creep and his army of babies as possible. She still didn’t even know what to think about that.
She peered out through the rear windows, but couldn’t see a vehicle following them. In the movies, the kidnapper gave chase, and there was a big, dramatic end. This almost felt anticlimactic. They had Wendy, everyone was safe. That was a good thing, right?
Then why did Bliss still have a gnawing sense of dread, as if this wasn’t the end of it all?
Images of the house, those jar babies, and Daniel Campbell zipped through her mind. She was going to need to shower after this, but nothing would clean those memories out of her head.
“Why didn’t you stay where I told you to?” It was the first thing Travis had said since they got on the road.
She glanced out the window and saw the highway ahead. One step closer to civilization, the cops, and a hospital.
“I got worried,” she said.
“You broke our agreement.”
“Yeah, well, sorry.” If she’d stayed put she wouldn’t have the visions of dead babies in her head. Then again, she wouldn’t have been there with the truck when Travis needed a place to stash Wendy.
Travis had saved her from the same fate as the women before her. Again, Bliss couldn’t be angry with him.
“What happened in there? Who shot what?” he asked.
“The women, he forced them to have babies, didn’t he? That’s what you wouldn’t tell me.” Bliss sat back and stared at his profile. She could see bumps in his nose, no doubt from multiple breaks. The hard lines of his face were just like him; he either got the job done, or he didn’t.
“How do you know that?” he asked finally, his voice quieter.
“Because I saw the babies.”
“The children? They’re back there?” The SUV slowed, and he glanced at her.
“They’re dead. He has them lined up in jars. He watches TV with them or something.”
“What?”
“There were over a dozen babies in jars. Most of them were probably newborns.”
“They were in jars?”
“Yes!”
“What did you do?”
“What do you mean, what did I do?”
“What happened inside the house?”
“I went in, saw the babies, freaked out, and then that guy, Daniel, came inside. I tried to get out, but he grabbed me. I kicked him in the nuts, and he tried to shoot me. I ran outside and there you were.”
“Don’t ever do that again.”
“I don’t want to.”
Wendy groaned and her hand curled around Bliss’.
“Wendy? Wendy, hey, it’s Bliss.” She bent her head.
Wendy’s eyes’ popped open, and she stared up at Bliss, her features twisted in horror.
“No, no, no,” Wendy screamed. She tried to sit up, but her hands were bound to the bottom of the bench. Instead, she rolled off the seat and onto Bliss, trapping her against the console and the back of Travis’ seat.
“What the hell?” he snapped.
The phone rang, adding to the general din.
“Wendy, it’s me. Bliss. Your sister.” Bliss wrapped her arms around Wendy and bear hugged her. Bliss did her best to use her weight to keep Wendy immobile.
Travis pulled into a Love’s truck stop and parked the SUV. He twisted around with his phone pressed to his ear. Bliss couldn’t hear what he said.
“He’ll kill you,” Wendy wailed. The fight left her body, and she lay limp on the seat.
“What? Me? Who will kill me?” Bliss eased her hold on Wendy and leaned back.
“Daniel.” Wendy sniffled. “He said if I left, he’d kill Paul. And you. And Grayson. I don’t want my baby to die. I don’t want you to die.”
Bliss glanced at Travis. The asshole back there had convinced her sister to stay a prisoner in exchange for her life? For the rest of Wendy’s family? What did she say to that?
“Wendy, no one is going to die,” Travis said. He spoke with the utmost certainty, as if Daniel Campbell would have to go through Travis to get to them.
“He killed Robert. And Stumpy. And that other guy. He killed them. In front of me. And he made me marry him.” Wendy’s body shook as she cried. “He—he’s crazy! He’s following some sort of medieval serial killer plan. He’s crazy. You have to take me back or he’ll kill you.”
Travis reached back between them and cut the bonds around Wendy’s wrists. Two police cars pulled up on either side of them. Bliss pulled Wendy into her arms and squeezed her. She wanted to rip Daniel limb from limb for what he’d put her sister through. The man was evil.
“Wendy?” The command in Travis’ voice made even Bliss look at him.
Wendy sniffled and peered up at Travis. Her body shook so much Bliss worried her sister might fall apart, or forget where she was again.
Travis rest his elbow on the console and stared at Wendy.
“Listen to me, these cops? They aren’t going to let anything bad happen to you, Bliss, or your baby, understand?”
Wendy nodded.
“G
ood.”
Bliss held her sister and watched Travis exit the SUV, hands up. She was too stunned to do anything else. The whole drama outside played out in a matter of moments. More cop cars streamed past, headed for Daniel Campbell’s torture chamber of horrors, hopefully, but she only had eyes for Travis. He’d promised her he’d get Wendy back, and he had.
DANIEL LOADED THE LAST of his children into the motorhome. The barn where he’d stored his get-away ride was already engulfed with flames, along with the trophies he couldn’t take with him. He’d had a lot of good memories here, but it was time to sever all ties with his old life.
Because of her.
Wendy’s sister.
Bliss.
She’d pay.
He’d make sure of that.
10.
Bliss peeled her boots off and groaned. They were cute and comfortable for a mall stroll, but damn they ached after a full day of on-her-feet action, not to mention sprinting across gravel. She eased back onto the sofa and flexed her toes.
“Did you hurt yourself?”
A wave of heat traversed her body. For a split second she’d forgotten Travis’ presence inside her home. She remained very still, wishing the buzz of arousal would die already. It was a completely unreasonable reaction after the day’s events.
“Bliss?” His fingers brushed her shoulder. Her breath caught deep in her chest and her skin tingled.
No such luck on killing her lady boner for the man.
“No, no, I’m fine. My feet just hurt.”
“Epsom salt?”
“What?” She pried one eye open. He was a lot closer than he’d been. His stubble was more pronounced, accentuating that dangerous look that fit him so well. She was beyond figuring out what it was about him that turned her on. There was always one anomaly to every proven fact, right? And the fact was she liked nice guys, and Travis was anything but nice. He still revved her engine.
“Epsom salt. Do you have any?” Travis said slowly.
“Maybe in the bathroom? I don’t think so.” She pushed herself up off the couch, but he caught her shoulder and pushed her back down.
“I’ll look. Through here?” He didn’t wait for her confirmation before striding into her jack-and-jill bath.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said for what felt like the hundredth time.
Not only had Travis rescued her sister, he’d stuck with them until Wendy was behind guard at the hospital, Grayson had landed, and baby Paul was back in their arms. Bliss had never seen her sister so in tune with her baby. Bliss had been shooed out by the hospital staff and back into Travis’ care shortly after Paul’s arrival. They’d grabbed a pizza and a couple beers at a place down the street. She’d thought he’d drop her off and leave, but he’d followed her inside.
“Seriously, you don’t have to do whatever you’re doing. I’ll get a cab to grab my car in a few.” Or maybe she’d just sit on the couch and watch bad reruns. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea.
“Can’t.” Travis emerged from the bathroom sans salt, but he had something else in his hand. “They have your sister’s house under surveillance. They aren’t releasing your car until after they go over the scene. You might not even get it back tomorrow considering they’re probably short-staffed for the holidays.”
She groaned and threw her arm over her face.
“Why me?” she said.
The sturdy coffee table shifted. She knew Travis was across from her. She sensed the heat of his body, and if she put her amazing horny powers to use, she could probably even measure the distance between them.
What she needed was for him to leave, so she could spend a little time with her vibrator collection and the bad-boy fantasy she’d been collecting material all day for.
His hand closed around her ankle and lifted.
“Wow—what—?”
“Relax.” His growly, gravelly tone didn’t invoke relaxation.
He pealed her sweaty sock off and dropped it on the floor.
“What are you doing?” And why did he have to touch her? Every time he did that, it turned up the heat burning her from the inside out.
Travis squirted a bit of her mint cream into his palm and slicked it over the ball of her foot.
“Seriously, don’t.” She tried to pull out of his grip, but he didn’t release her.
Wasn’t it enough he’d saved her sister, pulled her ass out of the stupid fire, fed her, and gotten her home? Couldn’t he leave her to her private, erotic fantasies?
He proceeded to ignore her and cupped her heel, driving his thumbs into the muscles and tissue. She sucked in a deep breath, and her body went completely lax. Her eyes rolled up in her head. She couldn’t decide if he was hurting her or giving her a footgasm. He continued up, into her arch, working over every bit of her. The sensation straddled that line of pleasure and pain. She clamped her lips shut, determined to keep the sounds of utter OMG, yes! inside lest she embarrass herself further.
Travis’ thumbs dug into her arch and she moaned. Her mind went blank, and she was pretty sure she was one with the sofa now.
He chuckled and she couldn’t scrounge up the energy to care.
“Oh, God, what are you doing?”
“Pressure points, it’ll take the stress out, help you sleep after today.”
“Oh, right there. Oh. My. God.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Yeah, she was embarrassing herself, but damn that felt good.
Travis left her foot perched on his thigh and grasped her other ankle. She didn’t protest this time. Why should she? This was the most man-stimulated activity she’d seen in a while. By the time he finished with her other foot, Bliss was slouched down on the sofa, ready to dribble down to the floor and stay there until Christmas Eve.
“You’re going to fall,” Travis said.
“Don’t care. Dead now.” She had her eyes closed tight, the better to not see him with.
The coffee table groaned again. Her whole body seemed to vibrate, she was so completely aware of his every move. He pushed her hair off her face with a touch so gentle she might have thought she’d imagined it had she not also felt the slight puff of breath.
An image of his lips, those damn, kissable lips, filled her mind’s eye. He’d kissed her once, and she wanted him to do it again.
“Bliss?” He spoke her name in that same, gravelly tone.
“Hm?” She turned her head slightly, finding him by sound and scent.
“Tell me to leave,” he said.
Her eyes popped open. He filled her vision. One hand was on the couch behind her. He had a knee next to her hip. A quiver of apprehension shot through her. He was big and scary, but he’d never hurt her. At least not her body.
“Why?” she asked after a moment. Couldn’t he walk out of there on his own two feet? Wasn’t that what she’d wanted a few minutes ago?
He cupped her cheek, sliding his hand up into her hair. The feel of him was different from any man she’d been with before. Even his skin was rough around the edges, just like him.
“Because otherwise I’m going to kiss you, and we both know where that’s going to go.”
She gulped. He’d called her out on the attraction before. Did she dare?
“Kiss me,” she said, before she could overthink her answer.
Travis lowered his head, wrapping an arm around her and hauling her farther up on the couch without breaking contact. His tongue delved past her lips, thrusting into her mouth. She held onto him, her head reeling as he laid her out on the sofa right where he wanted her. His weight pressed her down into the cushions, and one thick thigh shoved between hers. She wrapped her leg around his hip. She gripped his shoulders, hanging on with everything she had as he swept her up into a sensual tornado.
She’d wanted men before, but not like this. Not with an all-consuming desire she felt to her toenails. It wasn’t neat or nice or even polite. His stubble scraped across her cheek and he bent her head backward with one hand dug into her hair.
“Travis,” she mumbled as he kissed his way down her neck.
Bliss ran her hands over his shoulders, arms, and through his short hair. There was no illusion that she had any control here. Travis was driving this show and damn, if she wasn’t glad she had a front row seat. Or something.
He shoved her shirt and bra up roughly, exposing her breasts and stomach. She sucked in a deep breath, and her eyes popped open.
Chubby.
His friend had called her chubby.
Travis caught her wrists before she registered her own attempt to shield herself.
“Don’t,” he ground out between his teeth.
“But...”
The smolder in his gaze was enough of a command to keep her in place.
But what if she was too fat? What if there was more of her to go around than he realized?
Travis levered up on one arm, his gaze on her chest. He grasped one nipple between his fingers and rubbed it, the calluses better than any suction toy she’d ever tried.
“Oooh!”
Her vision unfocused and she stared at the ceiling.
“Perfect,” Travis muttered.
Her?
Really?
She could point out a few less than perfect areas, but she’d take the compliment.
His mouth closed around her other nipple, laving it with his tongue. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she arched her back, pushing more of her chest into his mouth and hand.
Yes, she wanted him. She wanted him bad.
Travis tugged at the front of her jeans until the button slipped loose and her zipper lowered. He reared up and grasped the denim around her hips and jerked it down her legs, leaving her in her panties, with her shirt and bra up under her armpits. He stared down at her and again she had to fight the urge to cover herself.
He’d pursued her. He’d called her perfect.
She fisted the cushion under her to keep her hands in place.
“W-what are you doing?” she asked.
“Trying to think of something to say.”
Bliss gulped, and a tendril of doubt crept in.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because, I should say something, but I suck at talking. I don’t normally do this.”
“Do what?” He screamed heterosexual, so he couldn’t mean he did guys.
Dangerous Attraction Page 8