Edge Of Midnight (The Mccloud Series Book 4)

by Shannon McKenna

  She’d forgotten she was holding the thing. It slid from her fingers, thudded onto the springy mat of pine needles. She plucked his revolver out of the back of her jeans. Held it out to him.

  Sean took it, and leaned down to scoop up T-Rex’s gun. That was when she saw the bloody scrapes on his shoulders, his arms, his back.

  “My God,” she whispered. “You’re hurt.”

  He waved his hand. “I’ve gotten worse playing contact sports.”

  “You’re bleeding,” she protested. “A lot. You call that nothing?”

  He shrugged. “Compared to what T-Rex had in mind for us, we look ready for the debutante ball.”

  She doubled over, covered her face, and quietly dissolved.

  “Sorry, princess,” he offered gently. “Didn’t mean to set you off.”

  “It’s not your fault.” She straightened up, mopped her face. “You do tend to catch me at a disadvantage.”

  “I think you look gorgeous. Sprinting through the woods, tits bouncing, bullets flying…wow. Talk about a fashion accessory.”

  Her whole body started to vibrate again. “Please, don’t,” she pleaded. “Don’t make me laugh again. I warn you. I’ll fall to pieces.”

  “But seriously.” He laid his hand gently on her back. “You were hell on wheels. That was fucking amazing. The nail in the face, the bite, the gun. I worship at your shrine, babe. Who knew?”

  “Hardly.” His admiring tone made her redden with shame. She didn’t deserve it, after the way she’d begged and trembled like a trapped gerbil. “I didn’t put any holes in him.”

  “You sent him off at a dead run,” Sean said. “Which is more than I managed to do. You rule. Remind me never to piss you off.”

  “Oh, I have,” she quavered. “I do. You never listen.”

  He made a harsh, wordless sound, and grabbed her.

  Their hearts pounded together, like drums. Sean’s hands clutched handfuls of her hair. “I could hold you all day, but that guy’s going to be back,” he said. “I don’t know what he wants from you, but we better—”

  “I do.” The words exploded out of her. “That guy killed Kev.”

  Sean let go, and stared into Liv’s face, speechless. His world dipped and spun, changing shape with a violence that made him dizzy.

  Kev. Of course.

  “He tried to get me to tell him about Kev,” Liv babbled. “He wants to know where the tapes are, whatever that means. He thought I’d been in hiding. It was true. Kev didn’t kill himself. He was murdered. By that guy, and maybe some others. He said ‘we,’ like there were more.”

  The tapes. The proof’s in the sketchbook. It’s all there. Dumb ass.

  He heard Kev’s dream voice, saw the patient look in his eyes, as he waited for his lame-brain twin to get his shit together and figure it out. It was a paradox, how Liv’s words could blow his mind into total disarray, and at the same time, be the confirmation of something he’d always known. A puzzle piece, set quietly into place.

  He’d split his mind apart to deal with that paradox. The strongest, best part of himself, the part that knew Kev wasn’t crazy, had been clubbed into unconsciousness and locked in a closet. The worthless garbage that was left over was what had passed for Sean McCloud.

  He was paralyzed with rage. They’d murdered his brother, and fucked with his head about it. Soiled Kev’s memory. Conditioned his whole life. Everything he’d done, everything he was. Every morning that he’d opened his eyes with that wrong, sucking feeling in his gut.

  And then they had tried to hurt Liv. His hands fisted, white-knuckled. Liv’s mouth was still moving, but he could not hear what she said. His ears roared like he’d just gone over a waterfall.

  But his fury at Kev’s killers was nothing compared to how angry he was with himself. For giving in. Falling for it. Fucking idiot.

  He wiped mud off the faceplate of his watch. He had to sharpen up, if they wanted to stay alive. He’d reached the cabin less than ten minutes ago. Davy would have called the cops maybe a half hour ago.

  He pulled the cell phone out of his pocket, amazed it was still in one piece. Popped the shell, pried the beacon out, tossed it. Con and Davy would be pissed, but it would resolve their immediate ethical dilemma with the cops if he removed himself from their grid.

  “Are you in need of medical attention?” His brusque question cut off whatever she might have been saying. “How badly did he hurt you?”

  She blinked. “Uh…I hadn’t really thought about it yet.”

  He grabbed her hands. Already clotting. He lifted her hair to check the bite, the cut beneath her ear. The cut had stopped oozing, but the bite worried him. T-Rex’s crocodile mouth had to be more toxic than most. “You look OK,” he said. “You’re not going to go into shock on me, are you? Do you feel faint? Cold? Do you have the shivers?”

  She shook her head.

  “Good. Then we’re out of here.” He scooped her into the circle of his arm and hustled her along beside him at a brisk, stumbling trot.

  “Aren’t we…shouldn’t we wait for the police?”

  “Nope. We are running for our lives. You got a problem with that?”

  She pondered that. “Not exactly. But I would like to be consulted.”

  “No time for consultations.” He yanked the Wrangler’s door open, tossed her in. He reached into the back and grabbed the bottle of water that had been rolling around back there. “Rinse yourself off.”

  She took it gratefully, and poured water into her hands, splashing with it. He grabbed her right sandal and pried it off. Ripped the upper back from the sole and plucked out a flat cluster of wires and circuits.

  She blinked. “Oh, my God.”

  “Yeah, it’s a tracking device. And yeah, I put it there.” He tossed the thing off into the woods. “You going to give me a hard time about it? Go on. I dare you.”

  She bit her lip, her eyes wary. “Um, maybe not right now.”

  “That’s smart.” He gave her back what was left of her sandal. She held the flapping, ruined thing in her hands, bewildered.

  He slammed her door, and loped to the driver’s side. “We’re sitting ducks,” he said, starting up the engine. “We can’t wait around for the cops with just five 357 Magnum bullets between us and TRex. He’s probably planning to ambush us on the road. Or pick us off from up there—” he indicated a rock above them, “—or there.” He pointed at the wall of granite that bounded the lake. “I’ve seen enough dead bodies. I will not let this guy kill you. I have had enough, you hear me?”

  “OK,” she soothed. “I don’t want him to kill me, either. It’s just that…wouldn’t we be safer on the road if we were with the police?”

  “We’re not taking the road.” He steered around a washed out, yawning hole in the road, and picked up speed, bumping and jouncing.

  She gave him a big-eyed look. “Um, excuse me?”

  “Offroad. We’ll cut across Long Prairie and hook up with Burnt Ridge Road, which will take us to Garnier Creek, towards Taggert. Don’t worry. This vehicle can handle it. T-Rex’s Jeep could, too, but hopefully he won’t be expecting us to go that route.”

  “If you say so.” Her voice was small. “So we’re hiding, then?”

  “Until we know who’s chasing us. Kev was smart. They killed him, and got away with it. They are not to be fucked with, whoever they are.”

  “But the police—”

  “The police didn’t help the last time. I don’t have any reason to think they would help me now. Get your head down.” He shoved down on her head until she sprawled sideways, and dialed Davy’s cell.

  “What the hell?” Davy snarled, without preamble.

  “We’re alive. So’s the fuckhead. I don’t want to meet up with him again until I have a lot more firepower. I tossed the beacons.”

  “You did what? Are you nuts?”

  “Tell Liv’s folks she’s OK,” Sean said. “Watch your back. Con, too. Keep Margot and Erin close. These are the guys who kil
led Kev. They know all about us.” He hung up, and punched up Miles’s number. “It’s Sean,” he said. “Call me back, and enable your scrambler.”

  “The scrambler? Jesus, why? What’s going on?”

  “Do it.” He hung up, stuck the phone between chin and shoulder as he guided the truck over the rough track. It rang again, in seconds.

  “I need help,” he told Miles. “Are you still at the Rock Bottom?”

  “Yeah,” Miles said. “We just loaded up the sound system. Why?”

  “Is anybody listening to this conversation?” he demanded.

  “Are you doing your paranoid freak-out McCloud routine on me?”

  “Cut the shit. Get out of earshot. Have you got the fogeymobile?”

  “Uh, yeah,” Miles said. “What’s it to you?”

  “I want it,” Sean said.

  “Do my ears deceive me? You’re willing to be seen in my vomit-tinted, butt-ugly piece of no-testosterone shit?”

  “This is serious. I almost got killed a few minutes ago. I need to disappear.”

  “Oh. I get it.” Miles’s tone was ironic. “What better way to disappear than the magical invisible car?”

  “Exactly.” Sean negotiated around another gaping washout.

  “Didn’t Seth give you a fake ID, like he did for Davy and Con? Can’t you rent a car under your false name? Why do I always have to be the schnook with no wheels?” Miles complained.

  Sean gritted his teeth. “The rental places won’t open for three hours, I’m covered with blood, and I’ve got a naked girl in my truck.”

  “No shit!” Miles breathed, impressed. “Naked? Really? Is it, you know, her? That girl you’re so nuts about? Jeez. Why’s she naked?”

  Trust Miles to grasp the kernel of the situation. His own fault, mentioning a naked girl to a guy who hadn’t gotten laid in ages, if ever.

  “No time to explain,” he snapped. “You know the Lonely Valley Motor Lodge, in Taggert? Behind the shopping center? Rent me a room. They get trucker business, so someone will be on duty. Got any cash?”

  “I can get some at the all-night convenience store,” Miles’s voice had taken on its habitual long-suffering tone.

  “Get me some. Ask for a room in back. Don’t say anything to anyone. Get me disinfectant, bandages, surgical tape. And T-shirts.”

  “I’m on it,” Miles said. “See you there.”

  Amazing, how the mention of a naked girl made a guy perk right up and hop to attention, any hour of the day or night.

  Sean gave the truck more gas. They topped the rise out of the cleft of the valley and up onto the road that skirted the Long Prairie plateau. Dawn lit up the clouds into a fabulous range of pinks on the horizon.

  Bye bye, road. “Hang on, babe.” He slewed the Wrangler Rubicon around and headed it into the waving, waist-deep meadow grass.

  Liv grabbed the door handle and braced herself on the dash as they jounced and tipped. Sean’s face was tight with concentration. She hung on as they skirted trees, bushes, sometimes foundering in the grass, scraping over boulders that dotted the rough terrain.

  Her arms felt like they were being ripped from their sockets.

  Finally, they intersected a road, barely more than two long depressions in the grass. Burnt Ridge Crest. Thank God. The top of the Jeep was up, but the windows were open, blowing cool air over them.

  She shivered, her chest and shoulders goosepimpling. Sean’s eyes swept over her body. She crossed her arms over her bouncing bosom, and almost laughed. Embarrassed about that, after what they’d just been through. Please.

  She tried to organize her thoughts. A million frantic questions jostled for space. “So you guys never found any clues? About Kev?”

  The dirt road had turned to smoother gravel, and now gave way to asphalt. They were passing farms and houses and mailboxes now.

  “Just the clues Kev gave you,” Sean said. “Just the note.”

  “What did that note say?” she asked. “I’ve always wondered.”

  His face was distant. “One thing at a time. Scoot down. You’re conspicuous even when you’re wearing a shirt, let alone topless.”

  She hunched, feeling slapped, and draped her hair over herself.

  They headed into an older, seedier part of town, crossed the tracks with a tooth-rattling bump and turned in the parking lot of a motel. The highway roared on the overpass above. “Look,” he said. “I’m not kidnapping you. If you want to go home and paint a bull’s-eye on your chest, you’re free to go. I’ll hate it, but I won’t stop you.”

  Liv nodded, almost wishing he hadn’t said it. After T-Rex, she wasn’t in any condition to make life and death decisions. It was easier to get swept along by wild floodwaters. If the floodwaters were Sean.

  “Besides, you’ve got your fiancé to protect you,” he said.

  It took her a few seconds to make the connection. “Oh, God, no! Blair is not my fiancé. That was just a lie my mother told, to get rid of you. You dashed off last night before I had a chance to make that clear!”

  A door of one of the rooms swung open. A large-bellied, bearded man sauntered out, hiking up his jeans and scratching his balls.

  The move was too swift to counter. Sean jerked her across the seat and onto his lap before she knew what he was doing. She grabbed his shirt to steady herself. “Don’t freak,” he murmured. “You need an excuse to be topless, and this is the best one I can think of.” He wound his fingers in her tangled hair, and kissed her.

  It’s just theater, silly. Don’t melt for a public act.

  It was impossible to heed that stern voice. Her protective layers were torn away, leaving a naked core of shivering need. His lips were so hot, soft and urgent. She clung to him, kissed him back desperately.

  Someone whacked the body of the Jeep, making her jerk. “Whoo hoo! Go for it, buddy boy! Helluva way to start yer day!”

  Sean stuck his hand out the window, gave the guy a thumbs up.

  He slid lower in the seat, pulling her down on top of him. Their lips parted, with a moist pop that reverberated through her body. He was burning hot, radiating emotion. He vibrated in her arms. The armored chill that had encased him ever since her revelation about Kev was gone. The kiss had melted it. The look in his eyes bordered on fear.

  He hadn’t shown fear when sprinting towards a bomb, or facing down a gun, or in mortal combat with a killer. But he was afraid of her.

  She wanted to reassure him, but she couldn’t think of words that made sense. Only kisses could convey what she wanted to tell him.

  He tugged, gently, on the back of her head. A flash of insight warned her that this wordless invitation was more dangerous than the wild sex and high drama of the night before. This was the real honey-baited trap. This soft, torn-open feeling in her chest.

  But it didn’t matter. She leaned forward. He made a breathless sound, almost a whimper when their lips touched.

  The kiss was almost reverent. They kept their eyes open, afraid the other would vanish into smoke. Sweet, perfect. A shining miracle, unfolding and blooming. They didn’t want to break the spell by being too eager, so they circled around it, marvelling. Afraid to breathe.

  Liv had never considered herself an expert kisser, but she finally got what kissing was all about, in a flash of bone-deep understanding. It wasn’t about technique, or experience. It had nothing to do with how innately sensuous she was, or wasn’t. It was about yearning, welling up from inside. She ached to touch him, to be scorched by his heat, to feel that metallic bronze sheen of beard stubble rasp over her skin.

  She wanted to lavish him with all the tenderness she had.

  The guy in the parking lot had been joined by a buddy. The two of them cackled and guffawed together, shouting out coarse suggestions.

  She couldn’t care less. They were dogs barking in the distance.

  She clutched sodden handfuls of his shirt. He clutched her back. Lips and tongues fused. Asking questions, demanding answers. Begging for salvation, for rede
mption. It would take years of frantic kissing to sort it all out. Years of desperate loving to make up for the pain.

  They needed to get started. Right now would be a very good time.

  His hand clamped across hers where it gripped his thigh. He dragged it up, placing it on the bulge of his erection.

  Their eyes locked. He offered her his body, silently asked for hers.

  She didn’t know under what terms. She no longer cared. He could do anything he wanted. Right here in the parking lot, with a hooting, jeering audience. She wanted to rip his clothes open, let the broad club of his penis fall out into her hand, hot and hard, the skin suede soft, so sensitive. She wanted to lick the thick, gnarled purple veins. To suck on him. To climb on top of him and ride. Bend over and have him fill her from behind, bracing herself against the storm of pounding violence. She needed it bad. She needed it now. She reached for his belt buckle.

  “I see you’ve wasted no time.” The low voice was faintly amused.

  Sean jumped, so violently that he bumped his forehead against hers. “Shit,” he hissed, rubbing her head. “Sorry, babe.”

  A young man stood outside the Jeep, with somber dark eyes, a memorable nose and long, shiny black hair that blew loose over his face. He gazed at her with intense curiosity. She blushed hot crimson.

  Chapter 12

  “Jesus, Miles.” Sean struggled up from his slumped position, rubbing his forehead. “You practically gave me a heart attack.”

  “You told me to meet you here,” Miles said. “You begged me, bullied me, guilt-tripped me. Told me it was a matter of life and death.”

  Sean rubbed the bump on his forehead, willed the blood in his groin to redirect itself into his brain. Just enough for minimal, baseline function. “Still is,” he growled. “It’s just your timing that sucks.”

  Miles’s grin came and went swiftly. “The next time I bust my ass at five AM to do you an incredibly difficult and inconvenient favor, I’ll try not to interrupt the sex.” He peered in, and gave Liv a shy smile. “Hi.” He shot Sean an uncertain glance. “So, uh, that’s her?”