by Sharon Sala
He rocked against her—the rhythm instinctive and without thought—lost in her heat and honey, caught in the magic of Amalie Pope.
Thrust after thrust.
Minute after minute.
Until they were bonded by the sweat of their bodies and the passion building between them.
The second climax caught Amalie unaware. One moment it had been all about giving him pleasure, and the next thing she knew she was flying.
Nick heard her cry out, and then the tremors of her climax were pulling at him, urging him to follow. He gave up and gave in, rolling with an explosion of sensations that gutted his energy and left him spent, his heart hammering against his rib cage in a wild, erratic beat.
“Ah…Amalie…have mercy…have mercy,” he whispered, then rolled onto his back, taking her with him.
She sighed, stretching the lean, curvy length of herself on top of his body, and buried her nose in the curve of his neck.
“Am I still breathing?” Nick muttered.
Amalie shifted, putting her hand in the middle of his chest.
“If it helps…your heart’s still beating.”
“Thank you, Lord…because I can’t feel a thing.”
Amalie smiled, a slow, secretive smile of satisfaction. Nothing like a little power trip on your way to a climax to give a woman’s ego a boost.
“You are an amazing lover,” she said.
Nick’s arms tightened their hold as he rested his chin against her head.
“It’s easy to make love when you’re in love with your partner.”
“I love you, too,” Amalie whispered.
“And that’s the second miracle between us.”
“What’s the first?” Amalie asked.
“That you didn’t end up hating my guts for not telling you who I was from the first.”
Amalie rose up on one elbow and put her finger across his lips, silencing him.
“You saved my life. I owe you.”
Nick grinned.
“You owe me?”
She nodded.
“And how do you propose to pay me back?” he asked.
“I’m not sure, but when the time comes, I’ll know it.”
“Good enough,” he said, and kissed her soundly.
“Are you still hungry for that sandwich?” she asked.
“I’m definitely hungry. Just not sure I can walk that far.”
Amalie arched an eyebrow.
“If you want to eat it, you’re gonna have to come get it. I’m not starting this relationship off by feeding you in bed.”
Nick’s grin turned into a chuckle.
“God, but you’re going to be fun to grow old with.”
Amalie’s heart skipped a beat.
“That sounds like more than a declaration of devotion,” she said.
“Hell, yes,” Nick said. “And if what we just did wasn’t assurance enough that I’m not planning on giving you up, then I guess I’ll have to try harder next time.”
“Is that a promise?” she asked.
Nick’s smile slipped. “It’s more than a promise. It’s a vow. Understand this, woman. I am going to love you like no man has ever loved a woman for the rest of my life. I’ll ruin you for ever loving another man.”
Suddenly Nick’s face was a blur. This was what she’d always dreamed of. A happy-ever-after, forever-kind-of-love, with a forever-kind-of-man.
“Oh, Nick.”
Suddenly there was a note of panic in his voice.
“Are you crying?”
“Well, yes,” she snapped. “What did you expect me to do after you said something so damned romantic?”
“I’m a man. I see tears, I panic.”
“Well, I’m a woman. We cry. Get over it.”
Nick grabbed her in a bear hug as a gut-deep laugh bubbled up his throat.
“Let’s get up and go eat before we get into a fight. I don’t have the energy left to make up.”
Amalie grinned.
Getting out of bed was easy. Getting dressed and keeping their hands off each other wasn’t. It took longer than expected before they finally made it down the stairs and into the kitchen.
The ham was still out on the cabinet, as were the jar of mayonnaise and the loaf of bread. The cookies she’d been planning to eat were still where she’d abandoned them on the table.
“I think we can do better than this,” Nick said. “Do you have eggs?”
She nodded.
“Omelet,” he said. “I’m cooking. You can sit back and admire my prowess.”
“I already did that once today,” she said. “You sit. I’ll cook. I don’t want you to get a big head.”
“How about we do this together?” Nick suggested.
Amalie sighed. He was almost too good to be true. Surely he had warts somewhere, although she’d pretty much seen all there was to see of him more than once today.
“That sounds like a plan,” she said softly.
Nick was just sliding the omelet out of the pan when his cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, then frowned.
“I need to take this. It’s your security guards.”
“My security guards?”
He nodded as he answered.
“Hello.”
“Nick?”
“Yeah.”
“Agent Edwards here. Smith and Lord are with me. Babcock called. Said we have a possible situation brewing with the guy who tried to take you out, and that you’re the lead on this.”
“Yes. Where are you?”
“About an hour away. We’ll be there long before dark to set up a perimeter.”
“He’s not the subtle kind,” Nick said. “He has one thing on his mind, and it’s getting to Amalie Pope. I think he’ll come, and I think it will be after dark. He won’t wait around for days to do this. He knows he needs to put a lot of distance between himself and Louisiana, but he won’t leave without getting revenge. It’s all he talked about. He won’t be expecting anyone to be here but her, so if you see him, let him come all the way to the house. Make sure he gets out of the car. We don’t want to take a chance on him getting away again.”
“Will do,” Edwards said. “The State Police are looking for him on the highways. We’re covering Amalie’s home. When we get there and get set up, I’ll let you know.”
“Right,” Nick said, and looked up at Amalie as he disconnected.
Her eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted, as she waited for him to explain.
Nick hated that she was worried again.
“That was one of the agents that Babcock is sending here to stake out your property.”
“You’re sure Lou will try to come back here?”
“I’d bet on it,” Nick said. “But I’ll be in the house, and there will be three really big mean DEA agents outside the house. We’ll protect you.”
“Are they really big and mean?”
Nick grinned. “No. But they’re really good at their jobs. Does that count?”
She sighed. “Yes. So… I’m fine. Stop looking at me like that. Your eggs are getting cold.”
“Sit with me,” he said.
Amalie took her cold drink and a couple of cookies, and sat down across the table from him. She watched him as they ate, realizing that this was only the first of a lifetime of meals they were going to share, and could almost imagine Nonna smiling. She would have liked this man.
Lou had still been hiding in the back of the delivery van when it came to a stop. He’d peered out from behind the boxes of lettuce, but his view of the street was limited, and all he could tell was they were parked in another alley.
Once the driver came back here to get his next delivery, Lou knew he would be found. But he was ready, armed with a box cutter and a claw hammer. He had no qualms about killing. But he didn’t want to get blood on the man’s clothes. He needed them, so he was going for a knockout punch first.
Still squatting down between the stacks of food, Lou waited, his muscles tensing as
he heard the outer door open, then footsteps as the driver started toward the back of the van to fill his next order.
All of a sudden Lou sprang up.
“What the hell?” the driver shouted.
Lou swung, coldcocking the man with the claw hammer before he could run. The man went limp as he hit the floor. Lou hit him again, splitting his forehead. Flesh popped. Blood oozed. It never occurred to Lou to care that he’d just killed a man. He was just happy he hadn’t had to cut him and ruin the clothes he intended to take. But he couldn’t take the time to undress the dead man here. After a quick glance to make sure he was unobserved, he jumped out and then into the cab, and drove away. It took him a few minutes to get his bearings, but as soon as he realized he was nearing an on-ramp to the Ponchartrain Expressway, he moved over into the right lane.
He drove onto the expressway, taking care not to bring attention to himself. Within minutes he crossed the Mississippi River and took the first exit, then drove around near the riverfront until he found a place to park unobserved. He got out and went back into the van.
A quick check of the driver’s pulse assured him the man was indeed dead. This was definitely going to up the ante on his hide once the man was found. He needed to get out of New Orleans as soon as possible, so he quickly began stripping the man of his clothes and wallet. After a quick check of the contents, he found himself one hundred and ten dollars to the good.
The clothes weren’t a perfect fit. The pant legs were too long, and he could barely button the waistband, but he would manage. He took the T-shirt the man was wearing under his uniform, but discarded the jacket, stuffed the wallet in his pocket, grabbed an apple from one of the boxes, then abandoned the van and took off along Franklin Avenue.
The sun was hot on the bald spot in the middle of his head, and his ankle was sore and aching, but he could walk. He stopped at a gas station, bought a cold drink from a self-serve dispenser outside, and then kept on moving, constantly on the lookout for a car he could snatch.
Finally he found a dark, late model car with a window partially down and a back door unlocked. After a quick glance around, he opened the door, unlocked the front, slid into the seat and hot-wired the car. Less than two minutes later he was driving away.
He drove until he found an on-ramp, then got back onto the Ponchartrain Expressway, drove back across the Mississippi into New Orleans proper, and kept on driving until he hit the I-10 westbound.
He knew he should be thinking about his escape plan, and he would do that—just as soon as he delivered a dose of revenge. Once he got his fill of Amalie Pope, he was going to take a lot of satisfaction in watching her die.
By the time Lou left New Orleans behind, he was riding a high. He’d done it! The gas gauge was registering less than a quarter of a tank. He pulled off the interstate at the first gas station he came to and filled up, then bought himself a couple of candy bars and a cold six-pack. He popped the top on the first beer, took a long swig of the sharp, yeasty brew, and then put it in the cup holder on the console as he pulled out onto the highway again. About a mile down the road he tore into the first candy bar and ate it in four bites, chased it with the rest of the beer and turned on the radio.
He drove with the air conditioner racked up to High, music blaring, and a growing hard-on. It would be worth everything he’d gone through to hear Amalie Pope beg before he tore her apart.
It was after three o’clock when he topped a hill and saw Bordelaise.
“Easy does it,” he told himself, and tapped on the brakes, making sure he stayed well below the speed limit as he cruised through town.
A short while later he passed the bar they’d been in when they first got arrested. He blew it a kiss and then laughed as he stomped on the gas while he watched Bordelaise disappear in his rearview mirror.
He drove over the bridge where they’d dumped the car after the tornado, then began watching for the turn that would take him back to the bitch’s house. They’d walked up on the house from the swamp that first day, and the day they’d left, they’d gone in the other direction.
Finally, as he drove past a rusty trailer sitting out in a pasture, he realized he must have overshot his mark.
Muttering to himself, he reached for another beer as he began looking for a place to turn around. He’d just taken his first swig when he met a Jeep coming around a curve. He glanced at the driver, noted absently that he was wearing camo, then realized the other two men in the Jeep were dressed the same.
The driver, who was talking on the phone and pointing at something off to his right, sped right past Lou without notice.
Out of habit, Lou glanced at his sideview mirror. All of a sudden, his heart skipped a beat. The license tag! That was a government car! Cops? Feds? DEA?
Or were those guys soldiers? Maybe they were recruiters? Then he dumped that notion. He didn’t think recruiters traveled in triplicate.
As soon as he could, he turned around, then sped up, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Jeep just to see where it was going.
A couple of minutes passed, and when he didn’t see it, he decided he was making a big deal out of nothing and began watching for the his turnoff. He grinned when he saw it and took another swig of beer to celebrate. Just a little pick-me-up before the party got started.
He tapped on the brakes as he slowed down to take the turn, and was off the highway and on his way up the dirt road when he saw the back end of that damned Jeep disappearing around a bend up ahead.
The hair stood up on the back of his neck as he hit the brakes.
Three government men were on their way to her house. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but if they didn’t come back out soon, he was going to assume she was now under guard.
“Son of a bitch!”
This put a whole new spin on his plan of action. For a few moments he thought about letting it go. She was just a bitch who’d thrown a kink in his plans. But the longer he sat there, the madder he got. Once again, she was going to defeat him. The question was, was he willing to let her get away with it again?
It was the knot in his gut that gave him his answer.
Hell, no!
He drove a few yards farther up, then pulled off the road and drove into the woods, parking behind a wall of kudzu. The damned vines were a nuisance and grew faster than fleas on a dog’s back, but in this instance, the overgrowth was welcome.
He got out of the car, felt in his pocket for the box blade, then popped the trunk and began poking around. Within minutes he was grinning.
Jackpot!
He’d heisted a car from a modern-day Davy Crockett. He found a fillet knife, a hatchet and a flashlight, along with a sleeping bag and assorted camping gear.
He put the flashlight in his pocket, grabbed the fillet knife and the hatchet and then started through the woods to reconnoiter. If the men in the Jeep drove away later, so much the better. And if they thought they were going to lay a trap for him, they had another think coming.
The DEA team arrived around 4:00 p.m.
Nick went out to meet them, and within minutes was helping them put their plan into effect.
Amalie watched from inside the house as the three men dressed in camouflage got back in a Jeep, circled the house and then drove out beyond the sheds to hide their vehicle behind the old barn.
Nick’s stride was long and purposeful as he came back inside.
“That was Edwards and his team. They’re going to hide the Jeep behind the barn and spread out around the perimeter. Whatever Drake’s driving, he’ll come straight up the driveway.”
“How do you know?” Amalie asked.
“Because he can. And because he’s egotistical enough to believe he can overpower you.”
“Maybe, but he can’t outrun me,” Amalie muttered.
Nick brushed the side of her cheek. “That’s for damn sure, baby. But don’t worry. You’re not gonna have to run again.”
She wasn’t really worried, she just wanted this over.
<
br /> As Nick turned away, she saw the handgun stuck in the waistband of his jeans. She shuddered. Lord. Would this nightmare ever end?
“What do you want me to do?” Amalie said.
“Nothing different,” Nick said. “When it gets dark, turn on whatever lights you usually have on. Don’t change your habits. Turn on the television…pull the shades you would normally pull.”
“And what if he gets past the men? What are we going to do then?”
“I want him to drive past them. I want him at the house and out of his car before we take him down. That way there’s less chance of him getting away again.”
Amalie nodded. “I can live with that.”
Nick took her in his arms and hugged her.
“Hang tough, baby.”
“Okay…but what if he doesn’t come tonight? What if he leaves the state?”
“Oh…he’ll be planning on leaving, all right, but not until he gets to you. You really ticked him off. You outran him, and then you got away and turned us in. You didn’t hear him ranting about it like I did. He’ll come back. Drake isn’t all that bright, but he’s focused. And right now he’s focused on getting to you.”
Amalie shuddered. There were hours to pass before dark, but what to do? She needed to do something to kill time beside stare out the windows. Nick seemed certain that if Lou came, he wouldn’t show up until after dark. That made sense, but that also meant she had more time to worry.
The rest of her belongings, which she was having shipped here from Texas, weren’t due to arrive until later in the week. She would have given anything for her computer or some of her art supplies—anything to take her mind off the fact that Lou Drake was once again a threat to her existence.
She took a book from the library and tried to read, but she couldn’t concentrate. She could hear Nick talking from the other room as he continued to coordinate the setup outside. Although she couldn’t hear the words, the deep timbre of his voice and just knowing he was in the same house were reassuring. She turned on the television and began flipping through channels aimlessly, trying to find something to hold her attention.
She didn’t realize Nick was back in the room until he slid onto the seat beside her and laid his handgun on the table.