by Cassie Miles
It almost felt as if he was born to be her protector, that he’d spent his life waiting for her. The fact that she’d been another man’s wife, his plaything, was hard to accept.
“Can you forgive me?” she asked.
“You don’t need my forgiveness. It’s your life. You don’t have to apologize for your decisions.”
“Now that you know what I really am, you despise me.”
“It’s good that you told me about your past. I wouldn’t have wanted to find out in another way.”
Mace stared up at the ceiling of the car, looking for an answer that wasn’t readily apparent. He wished he could take her into his arms to reassure her. But that would be too easy.
He didn’t hate her. But could he still respect a woman who allowed herself to be used in such a way, who sold herself for luxury? Mace warred within himself. The Nicole he knew was not a shallow woman. She worked hard and didn’t complain. “You did what you had to. You survived.”
“Yes.” The single word was a gasp.
“You can trust me,” he said. “Your secrets are safe with me.”
When the cell phone rang again, he was thrown back into a different reality. They were still on a chase to find the men who had abducted Joey Wentworth.
Now Mace could see why she was so devoted to Joey. He’d been her refuge. As she’d said before, she’d had nowhere else to turn.
She ended the call quickly. “I’m supposed to make another turn to the north.”
Mace raised his head to take a quick peek at the surrounding landscape. The lowering clouds threatened a downpour. “We’ll be headed toward Yellow Creek. That’s a bigger town with more traffic. And it’s near the foothills. We might be approaching the drop.”
“What should I do?”
“Be sure Joey is safe before you agree to stop. Demand to talk to him on the phone just like you did the last time.”
“It’s starting to rain,” she said as she turned on the windshield wipers. “Do you really think this might be the place?”
“It’s possible.”
Only a moment later the phone rang again, and she grabbed it. Now that she’d told Mace her story, she was doubly anxious for this to be over. She wanted to see his face, to read his expression and discover how he really felt about her. “Hello?”
“In Yellow Creek,” the gruff voice said, “park at the convenience store on Main and Caliente. Go inside. Bring the ransom and the cell phone.”
“Not until I hear from Joey,” she said.
“He’ll call you.”
“If I don’t know for sure that he’s safe, I won’t bring the—”
“He’ll call.”
She glared at the dead phone in her hand. Though the danger had not abated one whit, she felt more anger than fear. All this racing around the countryside was a deliberate plan to throw her off-kilter. But she wouldn’t give in, wouldn’t lose control. Her entire life was a practice drill for this very situation. She hadn’t fallen apart when her father had passed away, or at her mother’s deathbed. When her stepfather had abused her and when Derek had continued the pattern, she hadn’t wept. She could do this!
“Nicole?”
“I’m all right,” she said firmly. Even telling Mace about her marriage to Derek seemed like a relief. Now it was done. If he’d lost his respect for her, so be it. She informed him, “I’m supposed to stop at the convenience store in Yellow Creek. This is another time when I take the ransom when I go inside.”
“I’ll let Heflin know.”
Nicole realized that she was already approaching the town. She was on Main Street. After all these long waits between phone calls, the pace had suddenly picked up. Everything was moving too fast.
She squinted through the steadily falling rain, trying to read street signs. She saw what she was looking for. Caliente Street. When she parked at the convenience store, the phone rang again.
“It’s me.” Joey’s voice sounded lighter than before, almost happy. “I’m okay. I’m safe.”
“Are you sure?”
“Listen carefully, Nicole. They said I could only talk for two minutes.”
“Okay.”
“You’re the one in danger now. If you don’t do what they say, they’ll kill you. And they mean it.”
She couldn’t quite comprehend the shift in focus. Her fear had been centered on Joey.
“I’m okay,” he said. “They shoved me out of the car and drove off. I don’t know where I am, but there’s a town up ahead.”
“You’re going that way?”
“I’ll be there in a sec. I’m totally fine,” he said. “I’ve got to get off the phone. Do what they say. Be careful.”
She disconnected. Before she had a chance to report to Mace, the phone rang again. The kidnapper said, “We know there’s someone else in your car.”
How could they know? She glanced through the downpour at the parking lot. There was no one else in sight. Sometime during this roundabout journey to hell and back, the kidnappers must have been watching.
“Say nothing to him,” the kidnapper instructed. “Or you both will die. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Go inside now. Bring the suitcase.”
The fear she thought she’d left behind was back in full force. Joey was no longer in danger but she was. And so was Mace. Too easily, she imagined high-powered rifles trained upon them. A sniper could be hiding in the trees beside the store. A fast car could swoop up beside them.
“Nicole,” Mace said from the back seat. “What’s going on? Why did the phone ring twice.”
Her lips pressed tightly together. If she told him what was going on, she might be signing their death warrants.
“Nicole?”
“I’ll explain when I get back.”
She left the BMW and went to the trunk. Removing the heavy black canvas suitcase was more of a struggle this time. Rain splattered on her head and shoulders. She felt helpless and clumsy, unable to think ahead. Her only goal was to follow the instructions exactly.
The inside of the convenience store was similar to thousands of other stores with well-stocked rows of products in small, overpriced containers. The clerk behind the counter, a teenage boy in a blue uniform jacket, called out, “Wet enough for you?”
“It’s raining,” she said vaguely.
“Something wrong, ma’am?”
“No, I’m fine.” She dragged the suitcase down the aisle toward the cooler full of soda pop and beer.
The cell phone rang. The instruction was terse. “Go to the ladies’ room.”
In the far right corner of the store, behind a display rack of pantyhose, was a sign for the rest rooms. She stumbled toward it. Every step felt like a mistake. She wanted to turn around and run back to the car.
She pushed the door open. Two men in black ski masks stood inside the small room with a sink, a mirror and a stall. The taller man grabbed her arm roughly. “Don’t make a sound.”
The cold bore of a pistol pressed against her neck. She recoiled, then stiffened. Pain and abuse resonated in her memory. The wounds never truly healed. There was always an unassuageable ache—a scar that would never heal. She swallowed hard to keep from crying out.
The other man unzipped the suitcase. Moving quickly, he removed the bundled money, stuffed it into heavy-duty garbage bags.
The man who gripped her arm whispered into her ear. “You’re real pretty, Nicole.”
Revulsion crawled through her. She wanted to spit but knew better than to aggravate him. She’d been here before. The safest course was nonresistance.
“Here’s what you’re going to do next,” he said. “You’re going to take the suitcase and go back to the car. Understand?”
She nodded.
He tightened his grip on her arm. “Say it.”
“I understand.”
“Good,” he said. “Don’t tell the guy in the back seat that you turned over the ransom. Not until I call. Understand?”
/> “Yes.”
“You keep driving like nothing happened.”
His partner had removed all the money. He threw two heavy bundles of newspapers into the suitcase.
“Nicole,” the tall guy whispered gruffly. “If you tell him, you’re both going to die. You don’t want that to happen, do you?”
“No.”
He released her with a shove that sent her sprawling on the dirty tile floor. He grabbed one of the bags full of money. “Count to a hundred. Then leave.”
They were gone. She stayed on the floor on her hands and knees. Shudders wracked her body. She had to regain control. If she said anything to Mace, they’d be killed. She didn’t know how the kidnappers would make good on their threat, but she was certain they’d do it. There was no choice but to obey.
Slowly she gripped the edge of the sink and hauled herself off the floor. She washed her hands and stared in the mirror at her stricken face. Mace couldn’t see her like this. He’d know something was wrong. She lifted her eyebrows and straightened the corners of her lips into a mask.
Pulling the suitcase behind her, she left the rest room. The kidnappers hadn’t gone out this way, not with the clerk watching. They must have taken a back exit. Forcing her composure, she headed for the front door of the convenience store.
Outside, the rain sluiced down, pelting her head and shoulders as she rounded the BMW. Struggling, she lifted the suitcase filled with newspapers into the trunk. Running around to the driver’s side, she slipped behind the steering wheel.
“What happened?” Mace demanded. “Nicole, talk to me.”
“Another false alarm.” She hated lying to him. “Like at the other store.”
“Why did you get two phone calls before you went inside?”
“The first one disconnected.” She ran her hand over her hair, wiping away the rain. The windshield was fogged; she couldn’t see out. But she needed to get away from here, to put distance between herself and a possible sniper.
She scrubbed at the windshield with her bare hand, making a hole where she could see. Turning the key in the ignition, she started the wipers and the defroster. “I’m supposed to drive again. Another call will come in fifteen minutes.”
When she looked over her shoulder to back out, she saw him staring. His eyes accused her. “Something’s wrong,” he said.
She tore her gaze away. “I can’t talk right now.”
In reverse, she blindly swung around and drove out of the parking lot. She was on Main Street again, cruising through the town of Yellow Creek. Pelting rain obscured her vision. Though it was noon, the skies were dark and foreboding.
But Joey was safe. The ransom was delivered. In moments she could tell Mace the truth, and this would be all over.
On the outskirts of the town, he sat up in the back seat. His touch on her arm was exquisitely gentle. “The kidnappers met you in that store. They took the ransom money.”
She said nothing. Her silence was all that kept them safe.
“One of those calls before you went inside,” he said. “It was Joey.”
The truth wrenched from her. “They said I couldn’t tell you. They knew you were in the car, and they said they’d kill both of us if I didn’t do what they said.”
“It’s okay.” He stroked the sodden length of her hair. “You did the right thing.”
She wanted to pull over but didn’t dare stop. They might be following. “I have to keep driving until they call.”
“Where’s Joey?”
“I don’t know his location. He said that he was fine. The kidnappers dropped him off outside a town and he was walking toward it.”
“I’m going to call Heflin and fill him in. You keep driving.”
She concentrated on the road, barely hearing Mace’s conversation. The weight of the past days should have lifted from her shoulders, but she still felt burdened. Until she finally saw Joey face-to-face, she would worry.
The cell phone rang again. She hoped this would be the last time.
“Nicole.” She recognized the voice of the tall man in the black ski mask. “No more instructions for now.”
“I hope they catch you,” she said. “I hope you go to prison.”
He laughed. “Until we meet again.”
“What do you mean? Don’t hang up.”
But the call disconnected, and she was left holding the phone, still uncertain. She drove onto the shoulder of the road and cut the engine. The danger hadn’t passed. Not yet.
Her self-control was crumbling. How long could she withstand this pressure? Turning in the driver’s seat, she looked back at Mace, who was still on the phone, giving precise location information to Heflin.
“We’ll need a door-to-door search in Yellow River,” he said. “They might be holed up.”
His gaze fixed on Nicole, he reached toward her.
It was the only signal she needed. Nicole climbed between the bucket seats. In the back with Mace, she flung her arms around his neck and snuggled against him, needing his strong, solid reassurance.
He stroked her shoulders while continuing to talk on the cell phone. “My deputies can handle the search. People around here might be more willing to talk with them.”
She turned off her brain, wanting only to be held. The warmth of his body soothed her.
“No,” he said. “I don’t know Joey’s precise location. He has a cell phone. He ought to be smart enough to call 9-1-1.”
After a pause he turned off the cell phone.
He embraced her for a good, long time, and it felt as if he was holding back the danger. While she was in his arms, nothing bad would happen.
Gently he released the tension in his arms. He tilted back her head to peer into her eyes, and she saw a thousand unspoken questions in his gaze. But he didn’t say a word.
His mouth claimed hers. Though she hadn’t expected his kiss, she returned his passion. Relief flooded through her. So much had passed between them without being able to touch, to express their closeness.
His tongue penetrated her lips, and she felt the awakening of desire. Pure sensation flowed between them. She wanted him with an intensity she’d never felt before. With Mace, she would not hold back. There would be openness between them. No lies. No fear.
Chapter Twelve
Back at the Wentworth cabin, after several hours of watching the misbegotten investigation under the FBI’s jurisdiction, Mace drew three conclusions: Special Agent Heflin was a hopeless jackass; Blake Wentworth had a heart of stone; and Nicole was the closest thing anybody had to a suspect.
“Let’s go over this again,” Heflin said to her for what had to be the ten-thousandth time.
“Not again,” Blake Wentworth groaned. “We’ve heard her story. Find another witness.”
“There are no other witnesses,” Heflin said. “Except for Mace.”
“Oh, yes,” Blake said with a sneer. “Our hero, Sheriff Mace. We know where he was while my money was being stolen. Our hero was hiding in the back of the car.”
“Don’t start with me,” Mace warned. He was at the ragged end of self-restraint. He’d like nothing better than to squash Blake Wentworth like the money-grubbing cockroach he was. Blake hadn’t shed a tear for Joey; his only concern was the ransom.
“Or what?”
Aiming a hard, steady gaze at the gray-haired Denver businessman, Mace kept his tone calm and businesslike. “I won’t take bull from you, sir.”
Blake scoffed, but he sank back on the beat-up sofa and closed his mouth. His arms folded across his chest, creasing his cashmere sweater.
Heflin cleared his throat and returned his attention to Nicole. “What did Joey say to you on the phone?”
Her poise was wearing thin. Though her posture was ramrod straight as she sat in the rocking chair, her complexion was wan. Exhaustion etched fine lines around her mouth and eyes.
Mace could hardly believe she was the same woman who cuddled warmly in his lap and returned his kisses with a heat th
at could only be described as pure passion. He yearned to hold her again, to savor the moment when she came alive in his arms. Though their time together could be measured in hours, he felt as if he’d been waiting an eternity for her. Later, he thought, as he rubbed his hand across his eyes. Tonight, he thought, tonight he would make love to her.
But right now his top priority was to get her away from Heflin and this pointless interrogation. She needed sleep and a good meal.
In a tired voice, she answered Heflin’s question, “Joey told me he was okay. He’d been released and was walking toward a town.”
“What town?”
“I don’t know.”
“That was five hours ago,” Heflin said. “We still haven’t heard from Joey.”
“I know,” she said quietly.
The fact that Joey had not yet shown up was strike one against her. Nobody had spoken to him except Nicole.
Strike two was that she’d turned over the ransom without informing Mace or Heflin.
Her decision made sense to Mace. She hadn’t said anything because she was terrified, afraid for her life. But Heflin interpreted her cooperation differently. He thought she’d conspired with the kidnappers, had purposely misled everyone, had helped the kidnappers get away clean—leaving not a trace behind.
Thus far Heflin’s investigative strategy had been to put a chopper in the air as soon as the rain cleared, and to have his FBI agents fan out across the county. The Feds were questioning everybody, throwing their weight around and generally making the residents of Sterling County uncomfortable.
Mace had told him that his approach wouldn’t work. Folks in these parts were independent, self-sufficient and generally suspicious of strangers. It wasn’t that Sterling County residents were unfriendly, but they didn’t like being pushed around and weren’t likely to cooperate with the men in black.
But Heflin didn’t listen, didn’t care. This was his jurisdiction and he was going to direct operations according to procedure—no matter how misguided.
“It’s getting late,” Mace said. “I should take Nicole back to my ranch house and let her get some rest.”