“Maybe the interest was mutual,” Polly said mildly.
Jennie shrugged again. “Yeah. Sure. You’re right, of course. I’ve never been the other woman, before. I’m a bit straitlaced when it comes to this sort of thing.”
“Yes.” What else was she supposed to say.
“I think the problem is that I’ve fallen in love with Jack. How about that for a corker?”
Sympathy blotted out any other thoughts Polly had had on the subject. “Oh, Jen, that’s… I was going to say it’s tough, but love shouldn’t be a burden. You’re in a mess, aren’t you?”
When Jennie looked at her it was with eyes filled with tears. “Daft, right? I keep telling myself I’ve got to be patient. If it’s meant to be, it will. But I’m serious about Mary wanting to change things, Pol. And this affects you.”
“Me? How?”
“She wants you out. She thinks Jack’s got the hots for you. According to Mary, Jack sleeps with every leading woman on any show he’d directing. It’s a lie, but she believes it.”
Polly’s stomach turned over. “Gavin said something like that.”
“Believe him. He’s an asshole, but he’s got this one right.”
“What am I supposed to do? She’s Jack’s second-in-command.”
“Jack’s top dog. He’s god of the show. But I don’t want to make it look as if I’m cutting Mary down because I want her out of his life. I don’t think there is anything to be done at the moment except to watch ourselves. I think Jack’s more than ready to kick her from here to China if she pushes him too hard.”
“Park Place,” Polly said as the center came into place. “The movie theater’s in the corner.”
“Yeah. I know. Pol, if there’s any question, anything that doesn’t sit quite right, tell me and Art, okay?”
“This is all I need now.”
“Meaning?” Jennie steered into the parking lot and looked sideways at Polly. “Oh, sorry. Ah, hell, of course you’ve got your hands full already. You haven’t heard anything else from that nutcase who broke in, have you?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
Nasty had made her swear she wouldn’t talk to anyone about the most recent incident. “Sure. Thanks for leveling with me, Jen. If Mary makes things rough, I’ll tell you and Art. Not that I know what you could do about it.”
“Quit,” Jennie said shortly. “If she tries to get you out, we’ll quit. And I bet we could get Gavin to come, too. Gavin’s crazy about you.”
Polly didn’t touch that. “You make me want to cry. You’re such a friend, Jen. This show’s changed my life, and working with people like you is the icing on the cake.”
When Jennie looked at her again, there were still tears in her eyes. “Feeling’s mutual. I just wanted you to be on the lookout. But this is between us, right, Pol? Nothing said unless it has to be?”
“Nothing said unless it has to be,” Polly agreed.
“I was worried about talking to you, but I’m glad I did. I don’t always find it easy to make friends. So much time moving around since we were kids didn’t allow for the buddy bit. Art and I only had each other.”
Once Polly had tried to ask about the Loders’ family, but the closed reaction had warned her to stay away from the topic.
“You like the diver, don’t you?” Jennie smiled as if she expected Polly to avoid giving an answer again.
What the heck. “I do like him.”
“More than like him?”
“I like him,” Polly said. “He’s different.”
“You can say that again. He’s bloody fascinating. Never saw a bloke with a colder face in my life. Still waters run deep, though, isn’t that what they say?”
“I think so.”
“Is he good in bed?”
Polly sat straighter. “How would I know?”
“Okay, okay,” Jennie said, chortling now. “Have it your own way. But I bet he’s not cold when—”
“Jen! ” Polly put a hand on top of Jennie’s. “Over there. By Park Place Book Company. Fab and Nasty.”
“And the entire bloody Kirkland police force,” Jennie said, swinging into a parking space. “Better not be any bank holdups this afternoon.”
“Bobby’s not there,” Polly said, thrusting open her door. She ran, and shrieked when a car had to brake for her. She ignored the driver’s yelled insults. “Fab! Nasty! Where’s Bobby?”
Fab covered her face.
“Cool it,” Nasty said. Muscles flexed in his hard jaw. “Everything’s under control.”
The police Jennie mentioned were dispersing to patrol cars and motorcycles. “Where’s Bobby?” Polly repeated. Her throat closed. No, not Bobby.
Nasty closed his big hands on her shoulders and pulled her close so fast she lost her footing. He caught and gathered her against him. “We’ve got a little problem, sweetheart. But we’re dealing with it.”
Polly pushed against him. Her worst fear had become real. Something had happened to Bobby.
“What’s up?” Jennie joined them. She spoke to Nasty. “Something wrong?”
Fab had begun to cry.
“You’re Jennifer?” Nasty asked.
“That’s me.”
“Could you do us a great favor and take Fabiola home? I don’t think she should drive at the moment, and I can’t leave. We’ll get her car back.”
“I’m not leaving Polly,” Fab sobbed. “She needs me.”
“She needs to be calm,” Nasty said. “Jennifer? I’d really appreciate it.”
“Anytime,” she said. “Come on, Fabiola.”
But it took Dusty, coming from the movie theater, to persuade Fab into the BMW. He spoke to Jennie, who sent Polly a worried look before slipping behind the wheel. Nasty gripped Polly even tighter. She felt his tension, but she couldn’t concentrate on anything but her own terror.
“So,” Dusty said when he reached the sidewalk, “do we do what the police say and wait at my place?”
Polly pushed at Nasty, pushed with all the strength in her body. “Where’s Bobby? Let me go. Where’s Bobby?”
He released her at once. “Bobby went to the movies with Fabiola. He left his seat to go to the bathroom and didn’t come back. He was seen leaving the theater with a man.”
It was true, Polly thought. That man, whoever he was, had Bobby. Weakness loosened her joints. She felt herself start to slip.
Nasty caught her under her arms and picked her up. He took her as far as one of the tables by the fountains and sat her in a chair.
She rested her forehead on the table. “It’s all because of me. He wants to get at me so he’s taken Bobby. I feel so sick.”
“You’ve got a right to,” Dusty said. “I know you don’t want to talk about this much, but we’re going to work it through. Please trust us.”
The two men sat, one each side of her, and rubbed her back. “I must go to the condo now. He’ll make contact there.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Nasty said. “But first we’ve got to have a plan.”
“The police.”
“They’re on the case. There’s too much hard evidence for them not to admit you’re in trouble.”
“Because my son’s been kidnapped.” She lifted her head. Fury pumped blood through her temples. “Bobby had to be kidnapped for them to take real notice.”
“They wanted us to go to Dusty’s,” Nasty said. “I think he should go there. I’ll stay with you.”
Polly fell against the back of her chair and glanced around. She felt wild. A splash of bright yellow separated from the people milling in front of the movie theater. She clutched the edge of the table.
“Mom! ” Waving an ice-cream cone in one hand and a bulging sack in the other, Bobby dashed toward her. “Hey, Mom, you’ll never guess what happened.”
Sixteen
“Sam Dodge doesn’t have the right to kidnap my son.”
Nasty met Bobby’s eyes. The boy looked away and buried his face in his dog’s f
ur. He laced his arms around the animal’s neck.
Polly couldn’t stay in one place. She’d roamed Dusty’s living room, sitting in one place, then another, since they’d brought Bobby back from Park Place.
“Feel like a walk?” Nasty asked her, attempting to load his words with the warning that she was pushing the boy too far.
“I’m not leaving him alone. From now on, where I go, he goes.”
“What happened was my fault,” Dusty said. “I shouldn’t have let him go.”
“How were you supposed to stop my sister from taking him to the movies?” Polly snapped. “It’s nice of you, Dusty, but this isn’t your fault or your problem. It’s mine. And the police’s.”
Nasty didn’t remind her that since they’d informed the police that Bobby had been with his father, and that he’d been brought back from, “just going for an ice cream,” they were unlikely to jump too fast the next time she called.
“I went with my dad.” Bobby’s voice was muffled in Spike’s neck. “He said he misses me.”
Polly made fists. “He misses you? He—”
“Hey, Polly,” Nasty said, stepping immediately in front of her. “You and Bobby need to have a long talk on your own. But you promised me you’d give me some advice on that other thing. Could we do that first?”
She hooked a strand of hair from the corner of her mouth. Her hand shook, and he knew she was as much angry as recovering from shock.
He raised his brows. “The papers I told you about are in my study.”
Without a word, she left the living room and preceded him into the study where he closed the door.
“He never cared about him,” Polly said, pacing again. “When I told him I was pregnant, he told me to get an abortion. Once. He saw him once, about four years ago.”
“He came here?”
“I was working at Hole Point. The place my mother runs now. I don’t even know how he found me.”
If she knew what he felt, she’d either be confused or—as he’d managed to make her too many times already—frightened. He hated Sam Dodge, wherever he might be tonight. He hated him for having been part of this woman’s life. He hated him enough to want to know they’d never breathe the same air. He hated Sam Dodge enough to wish him dead.
People who preyed on weaker people. People who always had to win, no matter who else suffered. He felt hot. Sticky. His ankle hurt. He’d had the impression of a dark scene again earlier in the afternoon—when he’d been trying to decide how to search for Bobby. There’d been the sound of palm trees rustling and someone calling him. Then the flash of gunfire before he struck with his knife and saw blood gush from the retreating man’s back. Then blackness.
“What is it?”
The sound of Polly’s voice startled him. “Nothing,” he lied. “I was thinking I wish I’d been the one who met you when you were a kid in need.”
Her lips came together and trembled. She lowered her lashes. “When he came to Hole Point he wanted money. I had very little to spare. We got our lodgings for nothing. I did the cooking, and we ate there. Bliss paid me, too. She’s always been so good to us. But there wasn’t much left over.”
“Damn him,” Nasty said softly. He tried to hold her, but she shook her head. “He won’t bother you again.”
“He is bothering us again. D’you know what he told my little boy on the one occasion he saw him?”
“Don’t, Polly, please.”
“He told him he didn’t like fair-haired boys. Bobby was blonder then. When Sam was leaving, Bobby followed him out and Sam gave him a candy bar—and a dollar of the money he got from me. That’s all he ever gave his son. Bobby’s still got that dollar. I know because I know where he keeps it.”
Nasty did hold her then. He took her rigid, shuddering body in his arms and hugged her. “I keep my promises,” he told her. “I promise you Sam Dodge is never going to hurt you again.”
“Bobby wants a father.”
He smiled over her head, a smile formed from all the bitterness of too many years of trying to forget. “Every boy wants a father. And every girl.”
“Sam’s told him he wants to be a father to him. He’s told him he wants us to be together. What can I say to Bobby? How can I make him understand, without telling him his father didn’t want him?”
Her hair smelled of whatever faintly rose perfume she wore. Nasty rubbed his cheek back and forth over the top of her head. “I want to get you and Bobby away from here for a few days.”
“The show—”
“Leave the show to me. I’ll talk to Jack about it. I don’t like the guy, but I think he’s okay.” He wasn’t sure about anyone in this scenario. “I’m not telling him where I’m taking you, just that you need a little time off. These things happen. If you were sick, they’d film a lot of stuff they don’t need you for, wouldn’t they?”
She leaned more heavily against him. “Yes, I guess so.”
Gradually, her arms stole around him. “Bobby won’t want to go. Sam told him he’s going to call me and arrange to come and see us at the condo.”
Nasty made himself ask, “Do you think he could have changed? Could he have realized what he’s missed and want to try to mend fences?”
“He’s seen me on TV and realized it means I’ve got some real money now. Sam doesn’t know anything about love—or needing people for anything except what he wants from them.”
He shouldn’t be glad to hear her disgust for the other man. “Okay, sweetheart. Then I know what I’ve got to do.”
She grew still.
“Dusty and I have a friend who lives not so far from here. In the foothills of the Cascades. She’s very special. Different, but special. You and Bobby will enjoy being with her, and you’ll be safe because Dusty and I can control things better there.” He couldn’t be totally sure of that, any more than he could be sure of keeping her safe anywhere, but at least he had a fighting chance of getting her away from Kirkland without anyone knowing where she was. That could be the key.
“I can’t stop thinking about it,” she said. Her fingertips dug into his back.
“Sure. Of course you can’t. But once I get you away, you’ll start to relax. Then we’ll see what it takes to draw this guy out.”
“Sam?”
“Sam and anyone else who thinks he’s got a right to get in your way—or mine.” j
“Nasty, Sam’s not a threat. He’s… pathetic.”
“But he makes you feel threatened.”
She looked up at him and frowned.
Nasty closed his eyes and kissed her forehead. He ran his fingers into her hair. She began to have the expected effect on him. Never, he’d never been this susceptible to a woman before.
“You’re different, aren’t you? Different from other men?”
“Mmm.” She was warm, and soft, and fragrant—and everything about her spoke to everything he was, everything he wanted. “We’re all different.”
She tilted her head to let him nuzzle his mouth down the side of her neck. “Not different the way you are. Xavier, you’re a trained killer.”
His lips rested at the base of her throat. He kept them there, but his eyes opened, and narrowed. Slowly making circles over her shoulders, he listened to her breathing, waited for what she would say next.
“You’ve killed people.”
“I don’t remember telling you that.” He should have anticipated this. There’d never been anyone close enough to him to wonder what it meant for a man to be able to kill another man—for whatever reason.
“But you have.”
She wasn’t asking questions here. “Let’s say I’ve done what I had to do in the line of duty.”
“You aren’t on duty now.”
“Maybe not the way you mean. But I’m a man who takes duty seriously.” The instant he finished speaking, he knew he’d been too hasty. She was edgy. If he wasn’t very careful, he’d lose her before he’d ever really had her. And he wanted her very much.
�
�I’m a peaceful person.”
“So am I.”
Their cheeks bumped. He looked into her eyes and at her mouth. Her chin raised slowly, as if she’d stop it if she could. But she couldn’t stop it.
Air flowed softly from her lips to his. Nasty swept his mouth lightly over hers, and lightly again, and his eyes closed.
He was erect, and filled with possessive, protective tenderness at the same time. Controlling the urge to press for much more took inhuman effort. Her breasts teased him through her thin dress and his cotton shirt. Her hips, automatically tipping toward his, made him swallow a moan. She was testing, testing her own feelings—for him, and about what she thought he was.
A killer.
Nasty tore his mouth from hers and pushed his face into the curve of her neck.
She held him, and stroked his hair. “I want to… Xavier, I want to be with you. I want you. I’m just not sure I ought to.”
“Hush,” he told her, feeling for her mouth and pressing his thumb against her lips. “I know what you’re trying to say. All I can promise is that I’m an honorable man.”
“An honorable man who can justify taking lives.”
For the first time since he’d been a boy looking at his future and fearing he saw nothing, Nasty wanted to shut out all feeling. “I can justify protecting those who need to be protected.”
“And you want to protect me.”
“I have to protect you. You need me.”
She eased his face to hers and kissed him again, long and slow and deep. “I need you,” she said, very quietly. “But what if what you are takes you away from me one day. Or if it ends up hurting Bobby.”
“I’m never going to let anything hurt Bobby.”
“But you can’t promise that you… I’m not ready to say I can take what I can have of you, then get over losing you.”
This was his crash course in the meaning of bittersweet. j “Nothing’s guaranteed.”
Polly rubbed the backs of her fingers along his jaw. Stress and too little sleep had made their dark stains beneath her eyes. He couldn’t be sure any longer, but he still had more than a hunch that she was paying for something he’d been part of.
“I could be an insurance agent. Or a shopkeeper—I am a shopkeeper in a way—and you wouldn’t be able to be certain I was safe.”
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