“I’m sorry, Gail.”
She wanted to ask him for details, but decided that could wait. He looked about ready to collapse. Instead, she hurried over to him and laid her hand on his shoulder. “Blake, you are soaking wet and cold as ice. You have to get out of those clothes and dry them before we drive back to town. There’s a blanket in the other room. It’s not spotless but it will keep you warm while your clothes dry.”
He nodded, looking unutterably tired. He struggled out of his jacket and she took it from him.
“I’ll get the blanket,” she said, as she draped the soggy coat over the back of a chair.
Leaving him to get out of his clothes, she hurried into the bedroom. The blanket was a thick one, and she dragged it off the bed, thankful to have something warm to offer him.
When she went back into the living room, he was still standing where she’d left him, gazing moodily at the stove, his hands outstretched to warm them.
“I’ll air this out while you take off the rest of those wet clothes,” she said, holding the blanket up close to the hot stovepipe.
She kept her face averted while he stripped. After everything they’d shared she was aware that she was being a little ridiculous, but somehow she just couldn’t be blase about the man she loved stripping naked in front of her.
To break the awkward silence, she asked quietly, “Do you think he’s dead?”
He sounded defeated when he answered her. “He could be. We just can’t be sure.”
She pulled in a shaky breath. “So what you’re saying is that there’s still a chance he got out.”
She knew, by his long pause, that he hated having to admit it. “I’m sorry. Gail. I’ve seen too many scenarios like this to take anything for granted. Until we find the body of Mike Stevens, we have to assume he is still alive—and extremely dangerous. It’s not over yet.”
Chapter 11
The blanket shook in Gail’s hands. Blake was right. It wasn’t over yet. Maybe it would never be over. “It’s unlikely anyone would survive for long in that water,” she said, in a vain effort to reassure herself.
“True. We did manage to string out across the ice to the hole where he’d gone in. There was just no way to see him. It was dark, the water’s deep right there, and it was impossible to see under the ice. It was breaking up pretty quickly, so we got out of there fast.”
She glanced at him, shocked by what he’d done. “You could have all drowned out there.”
He crossed his arms over his head and grabbed hold of his T-shirt. “We couldn’t just leave him there to die.”
She watched him draw the T-shirt over his head, baring his chest. A tingling began low in her belly and spread rapidly up to her breasts.
“You risked your life to save a cold-blooded murderer,” she said unsteadily. “A man who’d killed his brother. A man who planned to rape me and then kill me, too.”
The look on his face was hard to define. He dropped the T-shirt on the floor, and then reached for the buckle of his belt. “It’s my job, Gail.”
For some reason she was angry, although she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the thought of how close she could have been to losing him. Or maybe it was his lack of regard for his own life, and for the feelings of those who loved him.
Her voice shook when she answered him. “How could you do that? How you could risk the lives of yourself and. three men for the sake of a black-hearted criminal who’ll spend the best part of his life in jail? That hardly seems like a fair trade to me.”
His mouth tightened into a thin line. “I don’t expect you to understand.” He flicked open his belt and unzipped his jeans.
He was silent while he took off his shoes and socks, then dropped his jeans and stepped out of them.
What she couldn’t understand was how she could be so angry at him and want desperately to make love with him at the same time. Deciding that her mixed-up feelings had a lot to do with the terrifying events she’d been through, she held the blanket out to him. “Here,” she said, with an attempt at a smile. “This should be aired out now.”
He took the blanket from her and wrapped it around his. shoulders. She turned away while he removed his shorts, and kept herself busy hanging the rest of his clothes over the chairs.
“I wish I could offer you something hot to drink,” she said, when she judged it safe to look at him again.
Draped in the blanket, his shorts in his hand, he still managed to look formidable. “I’ll survive.” He hung the shorts over the last chair and huddled in front of the stove.
She felt guilty now, for taking her tension out on him. Trying to figure out how to make amends, she picked up a log to put on the fire. “Do you really think there’s a chance that Mike is still alive?”
Clutching the blanket closed with one hand, he reached for the log and took it from her. “There’s always a chance—though we searched the entire area around the lake. I’d say you’re right, and it’s unlikely he got out of there, considering the temperature of the water, and the fact that he was cuffed.”
She opened the door of the stove and waited for him to throw the log onto the flames. “I wish I knew how that poor man is at the gas station. Someone must have helped him by now, don’t you think?”
“I asked the deputies to look in on their way back.”
She didn’t want to talk about Mike now, but she needed more reassurance. “You think Mike’s still in the lake, then?”
“I think his body’s trapped somewhere under the ice. We won’t know for sure until tomorrow, when we can mount a search in daylight. If he did get out—he’s probably miles away by now.”
She nodded. “I know I shouldn’t say this, but my life would be so much simpler if he were dead.”
“Yes.” Blake moved over to the couch. “It would simplify a lot of things.”
“What if you don’t find him?” She sat down next to him, weariness once more creeping over her.
He leaned back and closed his eyes. “I’ll worry about that if it happens. My job is to find him and bring him back, and it’s not over until I do, whether he’s dead or alive. But right now I have to grab a couple of minutes sleep before we drive back.”
And then what? she wanted to ask. But his deep, even breathing told her that he’d fallen asleep.
She felt like going to sleep herself. The room had grown very warm, almost suffocating, in fact. The little stove was more efficient than she’d thought.
She leaned back and let her tired muscles relax. She couldn’t ignore the depression that was creeping over her. Something was different between them; she could feel it. It was a subtle change, nothing she could really put her finger on, but it was there, lurking like an insidious disease waiting to strike.
She tried not to think about it, tried to tell herself that it was a reaction to everything she’d been through that day. She closed her eyes and listened to the logs popping and snapping in the stove. Until the sounds faded away and she knew no more.
Blake awoke suddenly, with a jerk that shook his entire body. He opened his eyes and blinked, wondering for a moment where he was. It was dark, and he could see nothing at all in the room, except a thin glow of red in one corner.
Memory came crashing back fast. The red glow was what was left of the fire behind the door of the stove. He was still in the cabin, naked under the scratchy blanket, and Gail was asleep with her head on his shoulder.
The jolt of his body had disturbed her. She muttered something, shifted closer to him, and relaxed again. He eased an arm from under the blanket and curled it around her shoulders.
She murmured again, and moved her head to the center of his chest. His body responded at once, hardening and tensing as the hot flame of desire licked at his loins.
Damn, he wanted her. Now that he was rested, warm and undeniably naked, his natural urges were once more taking over. He could feel the curve of her breast against his side, and he fought the urge to reach down for the tempting mound of soft fles
h. He couldn’t do this to her—or to himself. Not again.
Once more she stirred, and this time she whimpered. He was instantly alert. He knew by the change in her breathing that she was awake. “What is it?” he asked sharply. “Are you hurting?”
“My shoulder.” She shifted away from him and groaned. “Ouch. And my knee. I must have bruised them.”
“I think the lamp ran out of fuel.” He stood. She must have been anchoring the blanket underneath her, as it pulled away from him, dropping away in the dark. “Damn,” he muttered.
“What is it?”
She’d sounded frightened and he hurried to reassure her. “It’s okay. I dropped the blanket, that’s all.”
“Oh. Here, I’ll get it.”
His eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness, but he could barely see her outline as she sat up. Apparently she still couldn’t see him, as she put her hand out in front of her, smack in the middle of his belly.
The touch of her cool fingers on his heated skin shut off his breath. He heard her soft gasp, then she said faintly, “Oh, sorry.”
He fought for a second or two longer while the blood roared in his head and his body throbbed with need. Then, with a muttered, “Oh, what the hell,” he reached for her and dragged her to her feet.
She came willingly, all arms and lips and thrusting body. He couldn’t see her properly, but he could sure as hell feel her. And right then, that was all that mattered.
No woman had ever destroyed his control so easily. The hot clamoring in his body demanded to be satisfied, and only she could quench the flames. He wanted her with a fervor that could not, would not, be denied.
She was struggling to get out of her clothes, her impatience matching his. That was what he found so irresistible—her eagerness, her uninhibited enjoyment of both giving and receiving the pleasures of lovemaking. She excited him to fever pitch, driving him wild with her questing fingers and searching mouth.
She was like a drug—the more he had of her, the more he wanted. Warning bells were going off in his head, but he paid them no heed. She was naked now, and pressed against him, belly to belly and breast to chest, and all he could think about was tasting her again, and sinking himself into her until the ache in his groin was appeased.
He pushed her down on the couch and fell on top of her. She writhed beneath him, making those little moaning sounds that fired his mind with excitement. He could feel her fingers digging into his buttocks, creating little rivers of molten heat as he found her breast at last.
She moaned again as he pulled on the taut nipple with his lips. “That is so...good.”
Her hand caressed him before he expected it and he grunted with surprised pleasure. “Damn it, woman, what are you doing to me?”
She laughed—a low, musical sound that caused a shiver down his spine. “Mister,” she whispered softly, “you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
She started wriggling beneath him, sliding under him, her mouth traveling down his chest, his belly...
His breath exploded out of his lungs as the waves of sheer pleasure rocked his very soul. Never in his life had he felt such exquisite torture. He reared above her, his head thrown back, and gave himself up to the intense, almost-painful delight.
When he could stand it no more he reached for her, roaming her body with his lips, his teeth and his tongue, until she pleaded with him to take her.
He was only too happy to oblige. Ravenous for the relief only she could give him, he drove into her with an urgency that shook him to the core. The thunder in his head erupted in a furor of excitement as her body merged with his. He could feel her striving with him as he arced and bucked, and then her name was torn from his lips in a desperate plea as he crashed through the barriers into the cool, peaceful calm beyond.
He lay for a long time with her, covered by the blanket, content just to listen to her breathing. He would not allow himself to think beyond this moment. This was now, and it was beautiful. Moments like this were rare in his life, and he was determined to savor every second granted him.
When she finally stirred, he felt a deep, inexplicable sadness.
“What time is it?”
Her voice held a dreamy quality with which he could easily identify. He felt as if he were dreaming himself. He lifted his arm and peered at the pale green numerals on the face of his watch. “It’s almost eight.”
“I have to get home and call Heather. Everyone must be frantic wondering what’s happened to me.” She gave a little gasp. “I can’t call Darcie. Mike said he cut her line.”
“I asked the deputies to get a message to Darcie. I told them to tell her you were fine and that you’d call her later. By the time we get home, her line will probably be repaired. I also asked them to call Polly. I figured she’d be worried about you, too.”
He felt her raise her chin. “You had it all figured out, didn’t you? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you deliberately jumped in that lake as part of an intricate and devious plan to seduce me this evening.”
He smiled wryly in the darkness. “I can promise you, honey, I’d figure out an easier plan than that.” He turned his head and nuzzled her neck. “You didn’t exactly offer much resistance, you know.”
She sighed. “I know. I find you utterly irresistible.”
“The feeling’s mutual, believe me.” He found her mouth and gave her a long, deep kiss. “I guess we’d better be making tracks for home.”
She murmured her reluctant agreement. “Can I just ask you something first? Something that’s been niggling at me for a while.”
He felt a pang of wariness. “Okay. Shoot.”
“The day we took Heather to the children’s museum, I asked you what you did before you were in real estate. I know that was a cover for you, but you said you used to be a teacher.”
He could feel his muscles slowly tensing. “Yeah, I remember.”
“I was just wondering how true that was, or if it was part of the cover.”
He thought about it for so long he was surprised she didn’t comment on his silence. Except for the official reports, he hadn’t talked about it since that day. For some reason, he wanted to talk about it now. That surprised him.
No, it was stronger than that. It stunned him to realize that he wanted her to know, that it seemed important to him that she know. “It was true in a way,” he said at last.
“I thought so.”
Amazed at her intuition, he said quietly, “It was while I was with the DEA. I was in charge of training undercover agents.”
“And something bad happened. I know. You don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not.”
He stirred, knowing he was going to tell her, and wondering how to put it into words so that she would understand. “It was my job to teach them the danger signals, to know when their cover was blown and when to get out. It’s always a tough call. You want to finish the job, especially if you’ve put months of work into building a case.”
She sounded subdued when she said, “I can imagine.”
He pulled in a breath and let it out slowly. “Anyway; one of my units, three very eager, very dedicated young guys, took on a particularly tough case with me. The drugs were coming over the border from Mexico, and we were following up on a lead from an unknown source. After a while, I sensed that something wasn’t quite right. It’s not anything you can explain in so many words. It’s more like a gut feeling, something you get with experience. I ordered them to pull out.”
“What happened?”
He could hear her apprehension now. He closed his eyes, dreading the memory yet knowing he had to face it one more time. “They begged me to finish it. We’d sweated blood for months, taken terrible risks, and put in untold hours of living on the edge. They told me I was overreacting, being too cautious. They accused me of losing my nerve. I began to wonder if they were right.”
She stirred in his arms. “I can understand how you felt. It’s so easy to believe what others say about you.”
He paused for a moment, waiting for the ache in his throat to subside. “I let my personal feelings get in the way. I went against my better judgment and I gave them the go-ahead.”
He could feel the tension in her body, which matched his own. He forced himself to go on. “We were ambushed. All four of us left for dead. I was lucky. The bullet that got me grazed my skull. The others didn’t make it.”
She shuddered, drawing closer to him.
“You know the toughest part?” He blinked, willing his voice not to break. “It was trying to explain to their wives what had gone wrong. I’ll never forget the faces of those women as long as I live. I can’t tell you how much I wished I could trade places with any one of those dead men. I asked myself over and over, why was I the one who survived? Why Blake Foster, who had nothing to lose, instead of three dedicated young men with families who loved them and needed them? It didn’t make sense. It still doesn’t.”
Her arm tightened about him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought all this up.”
“No.” He hugged her closer. “I wanted you to know. I left the squad, of course. I couldn’t deal with the nightmares. Six months later I took on the job of marshal. That was something I could handle without messing up someone else’s life.”
She shifted restlessly beside him. “It wasn’t your fault, Blake, you must know that. You did what you thought was best at the time. Those men didn’t die because of you. They died because they were doing a dangerous job. They must have known the risks.”
He uttered a bitter laugh. “Yeah—well, no matter how many people say that to me, I can’t convince myself of that.”
“No one is perfect.” Her lips brushed his cheek. “No one expects you to be.”
Every Waking Moment Page 20