Loaded

by Joanna Wayne

  No one was there. Only one silver sandal. One that Shelly had been wearing. His heart slammed into his chest as a wave of adrenaline rushed his bloodstream. He scanned the alley in time to see a car rounding the corner at breakneck speed.

  Déjà vu. Only this time Shelly was most likely in the escaping car. By the time he ran to the front of the building and located his limo, the abductor's car would be long gone.

  A truck turned the corner nearest him and rumbled to a stop. The painted sign on the side said Maurice's Catering. It should have read Heaven Sent.

  Matt raced to the car, opened the door and yanked the man from behind the wheel. "Sorry, but a woman's been abducted."

  The man stumbled away from the car as Matt jumped in and gunned the engine. He never looked back. Somehow he had to find that car. He had to find Shelly—before it was too late.

  Miraculously, he spotted what he thought was the abductor's vehicle two blocks in front of him, speeding through a yellow light. Matt swerved in front of another car and pressed the accelerator to the floorboard, slowing just enough at the red light to make sure he didn't crash before speeding though the intersection.

  The car turned at the next corner. Matt made the same turn. He was catching up. And this was familiar territory, only a block from Collingsworth Oil. A new fear collided with the terror already building inside him.

  Was there some way her abduction could be connected to the problems with the CIA? Surely not.

  A pedestrian stepped off the curb in front of Matt. He barely saw the man in time to throw on his brakes and skid around him. As he did, the catering truck shaved the side of a car parked on the street, slowing him down even more. When he reached the corner, the car he'd been following had disappeared.

  His spirits plunged. He couldn't give up, but he was driving blindly now with no clue which way the car had gone. The Interstate was only a few blocks to the east. If the driver had taken it, Matt wouldn't have a chance in hell of locating the car by himself.

  He grabbed his cell phone and punched Langston's number. His brothers could always be counted on in a crunch. Only, this time, even they might not be able to help. Still, it was worth a try.

  * * *

  Shelly opened her eyes. Images and shadows swam in a blurry soup in front of her. She felt sick. Her arm throbbed. Her head felt as if it had been used for a basketball. The rest of her was numb.

  She drifted in and out of the fog until her mind began to clear in haphazard spurts of memory. Her and Matt standing on a balcony. Following Ben. Talking to Melvin. Jaime's friend, the cowboy from Cutter's Bar and Grill.

  Her stomach retched as the pieces began to slide into place. Melvin had led her into a trap. Ben had to have told him who she was. He and Ben were in this together. But why? What could they possibly gain by abducting her?

  Ransom money from Matt? Had both of them been seduced by the Collingsworth's wealth? Could they have wanted it badly enough to sink to this?

  Burning sensations prickled her body as sensitivity begin to return to her arms and legs. She was being half carried, half dragged by someone with strong hands and muscular arms. Leland. He'd been waiting for her in the alley.

  Her vision improved to the point she could tell they were in a darkened hallway with only a glimmer of light. She tried to move her hands and finally realized her wrists and her ankles were bound.

  Her feet banged against something hard and then she was dropped to the floor. A light came on, the glare burning her eyes and temporarily blinding her.

  When her pupils adjusted, she looked up and into the sneering face of Leland Adams. She scanned the area around her, shocked to find that they were in Lenora Collingsworth's office. Pictures of Lenora's family stared down at her from the tall bookcases.

  Shelly's gaze fastened on one of Matt and a new resolve pushed strength into her drug-weakened muscles.

  "You won't get away with this, Leland." Her tongue was thick, but her mind had gained a semblance of clarity. "Matt won't pay a ransom for my return. I'm just a lowly family employee."

  "A ransom?" He laughed as if this was all a joke. "Honey, you aren't going to live long enough for me to collect a payoff. You're seconds away from eating a bullet. I'd think you'd taste it by now."

  The metallic taste of fear clogged her throat. "Why here, Leland? Why bring me to Collingsworth Oil? Why not kill me in the alleyway where Melvin dumped me?"

  "I just follow orders, sweetie."

  "Melvin's orders."

  "What do you care? You're dead no matter who's picking up my tab. But don't worry, I don't plan to leave you here. We're just planting murder evidence."

  Evidence to make it look like the Collingsworths had killed her and disposed of the body. As soon as Brady discovered that she was missing, he'd see that they were the first people investigated. Her blood and other evidence of the murder would be found in the hallway and in Lenora's office.

  Melvin had thought of everything. The final crush in destroying the Collingsworths. The only remaining question was why he hated them so much.

  She worked frantically to free her hands, her only chance to fight back. Leland pulled a pistol from his waist and pointed it at her head.

  Her blood ran cold, but she refused to go down without a struggle. The mind was a powerful weapon in itself. Keep the attacker talking. Make him doubt himself. Strategies she'd learned in her training program fixed themselves in her mind.

  "How much is Melvin paying you to kill me?"

  "Enough."

  "And then he'll kill you, just like he killed Frankie Dawson."

  "Shut up, you bitch."

  But she had his attention. His right hand was still holding the pistol, but his finger had eased away from the trigger.

  "He killed Frankie because he screwed up the job. I won't."

  "He killed Frankie because he couldn't risk his squealing on him one day. He'll kill you for the same reason. No real risk to himself in doing it. Killing riffraff off the street is easy. No one ever gets arrested for that. No one really cares."

  "He won't be worried about me. I'll be long gone, living like a friggin' millionaire in Mexico."

  But sweat had popped out on his brow and was wetting his underarms. Good signs that she was pushing the right buttons.

  "You could be as wealthy as you want, Leland. All you have to do is call Matt Collingsworth right now and ask him for ransom. A million or two is nothing to him. His family has billions."

  "You already said he wouldn't pay a ransom, you crazy bitch."

  "You have nothing to lose by trying."

  A nervous tic attacked the muscles in his face, and he put one hand up to try and stop the twitching. His trigger finger was none too steady, either, but it was back in position. She had to do something fast or she'd never live to walk out of this room.

  She didn't want to die. Not this way. Not now. Not before she'd had a chance to have a family of her own. She'd never been sure she wanted that until now when she felt the possibility slipping away. Or maybe it was Matt who'd changed her view on life.

  "Make the call, Leland. I can give you the number. Name your price and see if the Collingsworths will come up with it."

  A clanking sound seemed to come from inside the walls or possibly from down the hall.

  Leland backed against the desk. "What was that?"

  "Probably the cleaning crew," she said. "If you shoot me and run, they'll see you and then they'll find my body and know you killed me," she murmured, grasping at anything that could keep her alive.

  "No, the cleaning crew doesn't show up until after midnight. I got lots of time left."

  "Sometimes they get here early."

  "No, Melvin said midnight for certain, and Melvin doesn't make mistakes."

  The noise sounded again, louder this time, as if it were right there in the room with them. Leland started freaking out, the frenzied twitch jerking his face into bizarre contortions. He muttered a string of vile curses and pointed the gun a
t a spot right between her eyes.

  She worked frantically to free her hands. The tape held. But she couldn't just lie here and let him kill her. She stiffened and strained her muscles. But Leland's hand had steadied again and a wild glaze covered his eyes.

  There would be no reasoning with him now. She would die before she ever really had a chance to live.

  "I love you, Matt," she whispered. She hadn't even been thinking the words, but when her subconscious planted them on her lips, she knew that they were true.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gunfire exploded in Matt's head, tearing through his skull like jagged shrapnel. He rushed through the unlocked doors of Collingsworth Oil like a bull out of the chute. Not even slowing to flick a light switch, he raced down the hallway, toward the sound of gunfire and the lone glow at the end of the hall.

  Agony rocked through him, hurling questions at him. The same questions that hadn't let up since he'd found Shelly's second shoe near the elevator of the building's parking garage.

  Why Shelly? Why here? Why the hell had he wasted time calling for help instead of coming here the second he'd lost sight of the car?

  He half expected to crash head-on into whoever had fired the shot, but caution never entered his mind. All he could think of was getting to Shelly.

  The light was on in Lenora's office, highlighting the blood splatters on the open door. A guttural cry started deep inside Matt's soul and ripped through his body before echoing around him. He couldn't lose Shelly like this.

  He was panting as he thrust into the room. His first glimpse was of a man he'd never see before, writhing in pain and holding one hand over his blood-soaked stomach. "Matt, you came."

  The voice went straight to his heart. His gaze found Shelly. A live, breathing Shelly, curled into a ball beside the massive wood file cabinet. Safe, for now.

  But when he looked back to the man, he was no longer clutching his stomach. His bloodied fingers clasped a pistol.

  "Make one move, and I'll kill her."

  "The hell you will."

  Fury erupted inside Matt, and in one swift movement, he kicked the gun from the man's hand and sent it flying to the far corner of the office.

  The man spit out a grating groan and his body went limp.

  Matt bent over him and checked the pulse in his neck. There was none.

  But Matt's own heart was pounding as he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Shelly, cuddling her in his arms for a second before slicing through the tape that bound her.

  "This is all my fault. I should never have left you alone. Some protector I turned out to be."

  "You saved my life. I thought he was already dead. I would have never seen the gun."

  Matt tried to make sense of the scene. "Who shot him?"

  "I rolled into him. He stumbled and dropped the gun. When he tried to catch it, it went off. He was already shaking from a noise in the hall."

  "It's the air-conditioning system. Mom complains about it all the time."

  "How did you find me, Matt? How did you know to come here?"

  His mother would call it a miracle. Jaime would say it was fate. Trish would say it was meant to be. "Instinct," he said. "And your shoes."

  She smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder. He wanted to say a million things to her, but all he could do was hold her.

  He didn't know how long they sat that way, clinging to each other without saying a word. Either seconds or minutes later, the quiet was broken by the arrival of a half dozen Houston cops. Langston's homicide friend Aidan Jefferies was in the lead.

  "Hell of a mess you've made here, Matt." Aidan turned to the body. "Is he dead?"

  "Yeah."

  "Care to explain what happened?"

  Shelly pulled away from Matt. "The man abducted me, but I didn't shoot him—"

  "Too bad," Aidan interrupted. "The city might have given you a medal. This guy is wanted for a dozen or more murders in the New Orleans and Houston areas and those are just the ones we know about."

  "Then you know him?"

  "He's legend. Known as the Popper because he'll pop anybody for a night's drinking money. Also known as Twitch because all his past trips on LSD come back to haunt him. He has as many aliases as Matt here has bulls."

  "Melvin Rogers paid him to kill me."

  The muscles in Aidan's face pulled into taut lines. "Do you have proof of that?"

  "Melvin drugged me himself and then handed me into Leland's hands."

  "I'll need a full statement from you, but give me a second to call in a request for the crime scene unit. And, Matt, give Langston a call on his cell phone. He's on his way down here now. The rest of your brothers are likely with him. Never seen brothers stick together like you guys do. Tell them to bring hot coffee—lots of it—and donuts. I got a feeling this is going to be a long night."

  Bring it on, Matt thought. He could handle anything now that Shelly was safe.

  * * *

  It was two in the morning when Zach dropped Shelly and Matt off at Matt's place. There had been no mention of her going back to the big house.

  He'd said he'd never do anything she didn't want him to do, but as good as she'd felt in his arms tonight, he had to believe she wanted him, too. Maybe not with the same hunger he was feeling right now. He could understand that.

  She'd been through a lot over the past few hours. If all she wanted him to do was hold her, he could live with that. What he couldn't handle was falling asleep tonight without her in his bed and in his arms.

  He opened the front door and held it while she stepped inside. Her silhouette was outlined in the moonlight and shadows. His sister Becky always said the house lacked a woman's touch. What it had really lacked was Shelly.

  Odd that he could be so certain of that in one short week, after years of wondering if he was cut out to be in any long-term relationship. But there wasn't a doubt in his mind. He loved her on a dozen levels, all of them begging for release right now.

  "What a night," Shelly said. "And to think it had started out with you telling me I looked stunning."

  "You still do." He fit a hand on the back of her neck and let his fingers tangle in her hair. Even that felt good.

  "I've ruined Jaime's designer dress and lost both of Becky's expensive silver high-heeled sandals." She put her hand to her neck and caressed the pendant. "I still have the necklace, though."

  He wondered if she thought any of that really mattered. "Dresses and shoes can be replaced."

  She pulled away from him. "I still don't get it about Melvin. Why would he go to such lengths to hurt your family?"

  Matt's frustration swelled. "We went over all of that with the police. The answers will come when we have all the facts."

  "He'll be arrested as soon as—"

  "Can we please just let it go for tonight, Shelly?"

  "I think I'm afraid to."

  "You don't have to be afraid anymore. You just have to let the police handle it from here on. Melvin is out of your life, out of all our lives."

  "It's not Melvin that frightens me." Her voice was raspy. "It's you. It's us. It's..."

  She sounded tormented and that hurt. Was she reading his mind and sensing that it was all he could do not to take her right here and now? She must think he was a heartless monster to want her like this after what she'd had to deal with.

  "I'm not going to lie to you, Shelly. I went through hell and back when I found that sandal in the alley and figured you had to have been abducted. Then when I heard that shot, I nearly went berserk. I'm crazy about you and I've never wanted to make love to a woman the way I want you right now."

  "Because you don't—"

  "Please. Just let me finish and then you can tell me what a jerk I am. I want you so badly it hurts, but I meant what I said the other night. I won't kiss you or undress you or push myself on you in any way until you're ready. So it's all up to you. If you want me, you'll have to let me know."

  "Matt."

  Her vo
ice was tentative, as if she were about to tell him something that she knew he didn't want to hear.

  "It won't change anything if you turn me down, Shelly. I'll still be here in the morning and I'll want you all over again. I won't be closing any doors."

  The ripped satin dress made tantalizing swishing whispers as she stepped toward him. Her eyes—deep, forest green pools that he was drowning in—bore into his.

  "I want you, Matt. I've wanted you since the day we met." She stretched to her tiptoes and touched her lips to his. The need inside him erupted in a rush of passion. He quit thinking and let his body take over. A man's way, but it was the only way he knew.

  * * *

  The kiss deepened and Shelly melted into the thrill of it, her body pressing against Matt's. She'd tried to hold back, knowing she had no right to take his love. But once he'd said how much he wanted her, her resolve was swallowed by her raging, wanton desire.

  Tomorrow, she'd be strong. Tomorrow, she'd face the reality of her deception and confess everything to Matt and his family.

  Tonight, she needed Matt so much she couldn't bear to turn away. Tonight she'd find sweet fulfillment in his arms.

  Matt's tongue invaded her mouth, tasting and tangling and claiming her breath. The kiss undid her, opened her up like a surgeon's scalpel and released emotions that had been locked away all her life.

  She whimpered when his mouth left hers, but only because his lips were sweetly tormenting as they seared a path down the column of her neck to the swell of her breasts.

  "The dress has to go," he whispered.

  He unzipped it with one hand while the other cupped and gently squeezed her left breast. The dress slipped to the floor as Matt fit his lips around her peaked nipple. The feel of his tongue circling her areola had the effect of an exotic aphrodisiac, creating a pooling moistness between her thighs.

  She thrust her body against him, and he lifted her from the floor, then let her body ride down his, pressing hard against his erection while a thousand sensations exploded inside her.

  And then he lifted her in his arms, carried her to the bedroom and lay her on top of the snow-white quilt.