by Rebecca York
“But you don’t know for sure.”
“He’d have to plunge into the bush to find us. This house is an unlikely spot to take refuge. And if he tries to get in, we’ve got a better chance here than in that hole. So your job is to get some rest. Then we’ll find our way back to town.”
She moved closer to him.
A little while ago she’d been so cold that she could barely think. Now she was warming up. As her body returned to normal, she couldn’t help noticing Michael’s muscular leg against her. His broad shoulders. His narrow hips. And the erection pressed to her middle. She ducked her head away from him and grinned.
He’d told her more than once that it wasn’t the right time to make love. Now, though, she had him trapped in a bed—and she meant to make the most of the opportunity.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked.
“Yes. And I think you are, too.” She raised her face to look at him as she slid her hand down his body and cupped the bulge at the front of his shorts.
His exclamation sounded like a mixture of surprise and need. “Don’t.”
“Why not? Are you going to tell me this is the wrong time and the wrong place? Again?”
“I should.”
“I have a better suggestion. Give in to what we both want.”
She rocked her hand against him, marveling at her own audacity but loving the wonderful feel of him.
She’d never been the aggressor in lovemaking. But now she was going to get what she wanted.
When Michael’s mouth came down on hers for a hot, hungry kiss, she knew that she had wiped away his doubts.
At least for now.
She’d settle for that. They could figure out the rest later.
The storm still raged outside. Inside the vacation house, another kind of storm seethed.
When he covered her mouth with his, she opened for him, telling him with her lips and body and hands how much she wanted him.
His kiss was greedy. The greed itself gave her as much pleasure as the physical sensation of his mouth moving over hers.
Heat coursed through her as he strung small kisses over her cheeks, her jaw, her neck and then lower, to the tops of her breasts.
Reaching around her, he unhooked her bra, pulling it off and out of the way as he ducked under the covers so that he could nuzzle his face against her breasts, kissing first one inner curve and then the other.
“So good,” he whispered.
“Yes,” she answered, cupping the back of his head and holding him to her as he took one hardened nipple into his mouth and sucked.
The pleasure was exquisite. It doubled as he took its mate between his thumb and finger, imitating the action of his mouth.
He rolled to his side, taking her with him so that they were facing each other on the bed.
His gaze locked with hers as he slid his hands over her back and shoulders, pressing her breasts to his hair-roughened chest, then slipping lower to cup her bottom and seal her more tightly to his erection as he rocked her in his arms, creating an exquisite friction between them.
She played her fingers over his shoulders, down his back, loving the feel of his body. Boldly, she slipped her hands into the back of his shorts, cupping his buttocks, massaging him there.
“I love the way you feel,” she whispered.
“Likewise.”
He slid his hand between them, into her panties, dipping into her most intimate flesh, stroking her in a way that raised the level of her arousal to fever pitch.
“You’re so hot and wet for me,” he growled.
“Yes.” She pulled down her panties and kicked them down her legs before tugging at his shorts. He helped her get rid of his underwear, then angled her body so that he could stroke her cleft with his erection.
She caught her breath as he bent his head, sucking at her nipple again.
The pleasure was exquisite, and she couldn’t hold back a sobbing sound.
“I want you inside me,” she gasped. “Now.”
She rolled to her back and opened her legs. He followed her over, covering her body with his, and she guided him to her.
As he entered her, he brought his mouth back to hers, his kiss hot and tender at the same time.
Then he raised his head, looking down at her.
She met his gaze, marveling that this was finally happening.
He held still for several long seconds. When she was about to beg him to move, he did, setting up a steady rhythm.
He built her tension, holding back his own need for release until she was poised on the brink of climax.
Only then did he increase the tempo, sliding his hand between them to press against her core as he pushed her up and over the final rise.
She soared to the top of a high peak, then toppled over the edge, sobbing his name as rapture took her. While incredible pleasure rolled over her, she felt him follow her.
Spent, he collapsed on top of her, and they both lay breathing hard and fast.
When he tried to move off her, she clasped him to her. “Stay here.”
“I’m too heavy.”
“No. I like the feel of you on top of me.”
She turned her head to slide her lips against his neck.
Circling her shoulders with his arms, he pulled her against himself and rolled to his side, still joined to her.
She snuggled against him, trying to absorb the reality of this moment. She had known him only a few days, yet nothing else in her life had ever felt so right.
“You should sleep,” he murmured.
“You, too.”
“Someone has to keep guard.”
She winced. He’d transported her from the real world into a place where only the two of them existed. But that was only an illusion. Someone had tried to kill them, and he was still out there somewhere.
She hitched in a breath. “We have to get back to town.”
“Not in this storm.”
“Maybe there’s a car in the garage.”
“Maybe. But we don’t have the keys. Starting cars without them isn’t one of my talents.”
“Too bad.”
***
MICHAEL STROKED his hands over Chelsea’s hair and shoulders, then pressed a light kiss to her cheek.
“Sleep,” he said again, willing her to relax. It was heavenly to lie next to her, to hold her in his arms. Heavenly to have made love with her. Yet at the same time, so many worries swirled in his head that it was impossible for him to relax.
Someone was still stalking them. He didn’t know who it was or if he was going to come crashing in the door. But Michael vowed to keep Chelsea safe.
He kept holding her for another few minutes, listening to the sound of her even breathing. Finally, reluctantly, he eased away from her, careful not to wake her up.
Outside the warm bed, he shivered. Picking up the gun from where he’d left it on the bedside table, he went exploring through the house. It was small. There was only one bedroom, with a large closet. Obviously, a married couple with no kids came down here in the summer months. Maybe for long weekends.
In the closet he found both men’s and women’s clothing. He pulled on jeans that were two inches too short and a sweatshirt.
He couldn’t find jeans that looked as though they’d fit Chelsea, but he figured men’s sweatpants would do. And another sweatshirt. He laid them on the end of the bed, then went to the bathroom and found their wet hiking boots, which he put into the oven on low heat. Hopefully, they’d dry out in a few hours.
The refrigerator was off, and open, but he found some food in the pantry. A box of crackers. Some canned soup, which he could heat on the stove.
He looked out the window. It had stopped raining, and that worried him. With the weather cleared up, the guy who had tried to kill them could resume his search. Hopefully this was an unlikely place for him to look. Michael could now see that the house was part of a small community of summer houses.
He pictured himself going out
and knocking on the doors of the other houses. Then he changed his mind. From this vantage point, it looked as though nobody was home.
He stepped out, inspecting the walkway leading to the front door. The rain had washed away their muddy footprints, so that didn’t give them away.
Hopefully, they were safe here for a few hours, but he wanted to get back to town soon and report the shooting incident to Chief Hammer. There was no way the chief could ignore the bullet holes in the boards. Or could he?
He’d just stepped back into the hall when a noise in back of him made him draw the gun and whirl.
When he saw Chelsea standing a few feet away with a shocked expression on her face, he shoved the gun into the waistband of his jeans. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little jumpy.”
She nodded. “We both are.”
He saw that she’d dressed in the clothing he’d laid out for her.
“Where are my shoes?”
“In the oven. I couldn’t find any in the closet that fit you. What are you doing up?”
“I guess I couldn’t sleep.”
“Then we should eat something and get out of here. I found soup and crackers.”
“We’re already making a mess of these people’s house.”
“We can leave them a note—telling them where to get in touch with us. And we can clean up later. Maybe they’d like a free couple of nights at the House of the Seven Gables.”
“Right.”
They went into the kitchen. While he fixed some chicken noodle soup, she wrote a note. Then they sat down and quickly ate the simple meal.
When Chelsea started to rinse the bowls under cold water, she winced.
“What’s wrong?”
“My hand.” She held it up, and he could see that the place where she’d scraped herself had reddened.
He crossed to her and held the wound up to the light coming in the window. “It looks like it’s getting infected. You’d better have the doctor look at it.”
She answered with a tight nod.
He returned to the bathroom and picked up their coats.
Chelsea followed him. “They’re still wet.”
“We’ll leave them here and borrow some.”
“I don’t like to do that.”
“I know. But it’s safer. If we’re dressed in clothing he doesn’t recognize, that may make the difference between getting back to town safely and not.”
She made a disgusted sound. “You keep thinking of things I don’t.”
“You’re not used to evading killers.”
“Are you?”
“No. But my devious mind comes up with unpleasant scenarios and offers solutions.”
“What about my car?”
“We’ll get a tow truck to haul it back later.”
“My registration is in there.”
“Yeah. But whoever was shooting at us already knows who we are.”
“Thanks for reminding me.”
They hung the wet coats in the attached garage and wiped the mud off the hall floor. Then they ripped off the sheets and put them in the laundry room.
Back in the closet he found two light rain jackets. Neither was very warm, but they each put on another sweatshirt underneath. The jackets had hoods, which would help disguise their appearance.
And he found a woman’s scarf, which Chelsea used to partially hide her face.
By the time they were ready to leave the house, it was almost three in the afternoon.
He was praying it was safe to head back to town. Still, he felt a shiver go through him as they stepped outside and closed the door behind them.
He replaced the key that he’d found under the flowerpot. “Do you know where we are in relationship to the highway?” he asked.
She looked around, then pointed to an access road. “I think we’ll find it if we go that way.”
“Okay.”
As they started off down the long drive, he kept checking their surroundings, alert for anyone suspicious.
They reached the highway, just as a police car with flashing lights came speeding toward them.
It screeched to a halt, and a young officer jumped out. “Police. Freeze. Hands in the air.”
Chapter Fourteen
Michael cursed under his breath, but he raised his hands. Beside him he could see Chelsea do the same thing.
At the same time, she called out, “Officer Draper. It’s Chelsea Caldwell and Michael Bryant. Why are you holding a gun on us?”
“Chelsea?” the cop asked. “Okay, take off that hood. But don’t make any funny moves.”
Chelsea shoved the hood back, then unwound the scarf, revealing her face.
“It’s you, all right,” the officer muttered. “What are you doing breaking into a house?”
“You know about that?” she gasped.
“Yeah.” He looked from her to Michael. “One of the neighbors saw you come outside a while ago.”
“I thought nobody was home,” Michael told him, “or I would have asked for help.”
“Explain what’s going on.”
He nodded, then asked, “Can I put my hands down?”
“Keep them where I can see them.”
Michael did as instructed, hoping the guy wasn’t going to pat him down and find the gun.
“We were out near the site where Chelsea saw that woman killed, and somebody started shooting at us,” he said.
Officer Draper stared at him. “Uh-huh.”
“Well, we can show you the fresh bullet holes in the boards above the hole where we hid.”
“Okay.”
“We left a note in the house where we were inside,” Chelsea said. “I left my name and number so the people could get in touch with us. We can show you that, too.”
Draper nodded.
Michael cleared his throat. “We were out at the site of the shooting, because…” He stopped, wondering how he was going to put the next part.
“Because what?” Draper demanded.
“Because we had information that there was a mass grave out there.”
Draper’s eyes narrowed. “Information from where?”
Beside him, he could hear Chelsea drag in a sharp breath.
“From an old diary,” Michael said, lying through his teeth.
“Oh yeah?”
“Chief Hammer will want to have a look around there. We found a human skull. There are probably other bones. We think that’s why whoever it was shot at us. He didn’t want anyone poking around the grave.”
Draper’s stance had changed. “Let’s go back there and have a look,” he said, watching them carefully.
“Sure,” Michael said. After the initial shock of almost getting arrested, he had started to realize this was the best thing that could have happened to them. If someone was trying to kill them, he was unlikely to do it in the presence of a cop.
“First, I want to see that note you said you left in the house,” Draper said.
Michael wanted to yell at him that the graves and the bullet holes were a lot more important than the interior of the house, but he forced himself not to object. Instead, he waited while the patrolman made a call to his chief. Then they went along quietly, Michael holding his tongue as the cop inspected the condition of the house. From this vantage point, he was glad that Chelsea had left that very apologetic note.
After Draper had wasted enough time at the house, they headed for the highway.
When they reached the location of their ordeal, they found Chief Hammer waiting for them. He was looking at Chelsea’s tires.
“You see the bullet holes?” Michael asked.
“Yeah. Who shot at you?”
“I’d like to know.”
“Show me the pit where you hid.”
Michael glanced at Chelsea. “You want to stay here?”
“I want to come with you.”
They all tramped back into the swampy area. Michael’s stomach clenched when they had trouble locating the pit.
Too bad L
avinia didn’t appear to guide them again.
No, scratch that.
Finally, they found it by themselves.
He stood with his arm around Chelsea as Hammer inspected the bullet holes. “It looks like you were damn lucky. How did you find this place?”
Chelsea cleared her throat. “I used to play around here when I was a kid,” she said.
Apparently, she had decided that if Michael could lie, she could, too. No, he silently amended. She had played around here; she just wasn’t prepared to tell him how she’d actually discovered the pit.
“We found the skull over there,” Chelsea said, pointing to the approximate location. But when they led the cops back there, the evidence was missing.
“My guess is that the killer took it away,” Michael was quick to add. “If you keep looking, you’ll probably find more bones.”
Hammer made a noncommittal sound.
So, what was wrong with this guy? Michael wondered. For a cop, he didn’t seem much interested in evidence of murder. Was he lazy? Incompetent? Or did he have something to hide?
“Can you recommend a company to tow my car?” Chelsea asked.
Hammer gave her the name of a local garage.
“And there’s the question of who shot at us,” Michael said.
“There’s that.”
“Are you going to report it to the state police? It sounds like it’s part of the murder case.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Hammer said, without really answering the question.
“Chelsea could be in danger,” Michael added. “The killer may think she knows something. But we’re actually both clueless.”
The chief turned to her. “Maybe you want to get out of town for a few days.”
Michael wanted to ask what good that would do if the chief wasn’t going to solve the crime, but again he held his tongue.
As they started back toward the road, Michael reached for Chelsea’s hand, and she winced.
His gaze shot to her.
She held up the hand. “That scrape.”
Michael turned to Draper. “Can you drop us at the doctor’s house on the way back to town?”
“Sure.”
They rode back to town in the backseat of the cruiser, and the young officer stopped at Dr. Janecek’s office. The doctor was finishing up with a patient, but his receptionist thought he could fit Chelsea in.