Bound By Temptation

by Trish McCallan

  She shot a quick glance at the diminutive woman sitting next to her. Good lord, the woman wasn’t much bigger than a sparrow. Her head barely reached the dashboard. But then she didn’t need height or heft to be dangerous. All she needed was that big, black gun currently pressed against Emma’s side.

  Unbelievable.

  A wave of disbelief swept through her. For a second the street wavered in front of her straining eyes. Who would guess such a tiny, soft faced, silver haired old woman was into kidnapping and animal abuse? She sure hadn’t. In fact, she’d assumed the woman was a new neighbor out to introduce herself. She’d even been embarrassed about Cuddles’s immediate and violent reaction to her. Good lord, she’d apologized repeatedly for her dog’s terrible behavior right up until the old bat had whipped the towel off the bread pan and pulled out a huge revolver.

  If they survived this, she would never discount her dog’s instinctive negative reaction to someone again.

  She checked out the rearview mirror and choked back a scream as an SUV turned directly in front of Cuddles’s straining body. She didn’t start breathing again until the SUV cleared her rearview mirror and the dog came back into view. Without looking at the woman beside her, she eased off the gas pedal.

  “Why are you doing this?” Emma asked, her voice hoarse, half of her attention on the woman beside her and the other half on the dog desperately trying to catch up to them.

  “Why, for the diamonds, of course,” the crazy old bat said, lifting her free hand to pat her fluff of silver hair. “Since you murdered my sweet Neddy, I’m the only one left to retrieve them.”

  Diamonds… that’s what’s in the loveseat?

  “I didn’t kill, anyone,” Emma protested, sweat slicking her spine as the gun twitched against her side.

  With her small frame and fragile bones, the old woman should be easy to overpower—if she ever pulled that gun from Emma’s side. It didn’t take much strength to pull a trigger.

  She checked out the rearview mirror. Cuddles was actually gaining on them. Holding her breath, she eased up on the accelerator a bit more. What was she supposed to do if the dog caught up with them? Open the door and let her jump in? The inside of the vehicle might be as dangerous as the street.

  “Well, your beau, then.”

  Emma swallowed hard, shooting her passenger a quick glance.

  The woman’s smooth, porcelain fine forehead crinkled. “Why do you keep looking in the mirror?”

  Don’t antagonize her. Bond with her. Cater to her. It will make it harder for her to kill you.

  “My dog’s following us,” Emma admitted, her fingers tightening around the steering wheel until her knuckles were as white as the bandages circling her hands. “I’m sorry about Ned, was he your son? But Lucas didn’t kill him. One of the men Ned hired to kidnap me killed him. Lucas had nothing to do with his death.”

  Not quite a lie, but not quite the truth either. Lucas had set a trap and Ned wouldn’t be dead if he hadn’t walked into it.

  “My grandson,” the woman corrected, her voice testy. “He was a good boy. He didn’t deserve to die like that.”

  A good boy?

  Were they talking about the same man? The monster who’d murdered poor Mr. Carmichael, and hired nasty, dead-eyed men to kidnap her?

  Keep her talking. Keep her occupied. So far she hasn’t noticed we’re barely going ten miles an hour.

  “So if the diamonds are in the loveseat, how did the loveseat end up at Carmichaels?”

  She checked on Cuddles through the side mirror this time. The dog, whose tongue was hanging out so far it was almost dragging on the pavement, was right on her bumper. Oh god. If the traffic didn’t kill the poor dog, this damn car chase would.

  “I didn’t know he’d hid diamonds in the old thing, now did I?” the old woman said, her voice more quarrelsome than ever. She turned her head in a quick, bird-like motion and glared. “Neddy forgot to tell me. And boy did he ever pitch a hissy fit when he found out I’d sold it.” She shifted in the passenger seat and the gun dug harder into Emma’s side. “Well, they belong to me now, and if your beau wants to get you back alive, he’ll hand them over.”

  Emma relaxed slightly. Maybe the extra pressure against her ribs was unintentional. “So you’re not going to kill me?”

  The woman cocked her head, her expression almost affronted. “Of course not, dear. I’m not a monster.”

  Thank God.

  “Of course that murderer of yours is a different matter entirely.”

  Uh….

  “Murderer?”

  “That monster who butchered my Neddy.”

  Butchered?

  Somehow Emma didn’t think she meant the man Ned had hired. The man who’d actually killed him.

  “I told you,” Emma said again, raising her voice for emphasis. “Lucas didn’t kill your grandson. Someone else did. I believe it was an accident.”

  “That’s not what the police told me when they showed up at my door,” the woman snapped, a stony expression descending on her face.

  “Then they told you wrong.”

  “Of course you’d defend him. You’re doubtlessly fornicating with him—”

  Not as much as I’d like to.

  “I should just go ahead and kill you too.”

  Too? Had she just said too?

  Chills coursed down her arms, rolled about in her stomach. Had the crazy old bat just admitted she was going to kill Lucas?

  * * *

  Lucas descended the stairs in one leap and raced for his Jeep, milking every modicum of speed he could from his shaking legs.

  Move. Move. Move.

  It took too damn long to pull his keys from his pocket, unlock the Renegade, and dive into the driver’s seat. Even longer to crank the engine and swing the Jeep around, aiming it toward the corner Cuddles had disappeared around. He gunned it, crushing the accelerator with his boot.

  The dog had to be chasing Emma. Had to be.

  He’d never been one for praying. Hell, he couldn’t remember ever praying. But he prayed now. Prayed like a motherfucker. Offered every deal he could think of, including his own life, if he could just get Emma back. Alive. In one piece.

  Who the fuck had taken her? That tiny old woman? She must have been seventy, at least. Why the hell would an old lady want Emma?

  He took the corner on two tires, fought the wheel, brought the Jeep back down to the pavement and gunned it again.

  No sign of Cuddles.

  No sign of the dented rear fender of a blue sedan.

  Son of a bitch.

  The pressure in his chest increased. Became unbearable. Suffocating. Distantly he heard an urgent, tinny voice and realized his phone was on the passenger seat. He must have tossed it there when he dived inside the car. He picked it up, chanced a quick glance at the screen.

  Thank Christ, he was still connected to Rio.

  “They took Emma.” The news broke from him in a guttural howl.

  Rio’s voice in contrast was icy calm. “Where?”

  “From her place. Headed south on Acorn.”

  “Copy, dispatching units.”

  A cross street loomed. Right or left. Right or left. He shot through it—glancing in both directions. Caught a glimpse of a small, mottled gray dog in the distance toward his left.

  Slamming on his breaks, he threw the Jeep in reverse and squealed backwards, ignoring the cacophony of horns protesting around him. After zipping around a yellow van, he gunned the Renegade again. Maybe half a dozen streets down, the gray dog flew around a corner.

  No stop signs or lights, which meant he was on a through street. He ground down on the accelerator and took to praying again. If anyone pulled out in front of him, they were both toast.

  He took the corner Cuddles had disappeared around with barely a break in speed, glancing at the street sign as he shot past.

  “They’re on Western,” he shouted toward the phone on the passenger seat.

  The dog was much cl
oser this time. So was the battered tail end of a blue sedan.

  He roared up behind Cuddles.

  Please. Please. Please. Let Emma be in that car.

  Blonde hair behind the wheel. Silver hair hung low in the passenger seat.

  The tornado of fear inside him calmed. She was alive. He slowed the Renegade to avoid hitting Cuddles, waited for a black pickup to pass, and swung into the opposite lane, gunning the Jeep again. He overtook the blue sedan in seconds—no surprise since it was traveling at the speed of a sloth—and swerved in front of it, cutting it off.

  Emma slammed on the brakes, and the sedan lurched to a stop. He was out the Jeep, gun in hand while the Renegade was still rocking.

  In the distance, sirens screamed. He and Cuddles arrived at the sedan’s passenger door at the exact same moment. Slowly, too fucking slowly, the window squeaked down. Faded blue eyes in an unlined, parchment smooth face peered up at him.

  “I have a gun pressed against your gal’s side. If you try anything, I’ll shoot her. Yes, I will.”

  Son of a bitch. Up close, the woman had to be closer to eighty than seventy. And small, so small her head barely reached the window. He had a clear shot—but Jesus, she was an old woman. Besides, if she was telling him the truth and he shot her and her fingers contracted around the trigger—

  “Tell him,” the woman said, her silver hair shimmering as she turned her head to address Emma.

  “She’s telling the truth, Lucas.” Emma leaned forward, her eyes locking on his. “She thinks you killed Ned, her grandson. Oh, and there are diamonds in the loveseat.” She hesitated as the old lady turned back to Lucas and blurted out— “She says she’s going to kill you…so maybe back up and get the heck out of here?”

  A look of pure outrage lit the woman’s face. “You weren’t supposed to tell him that.”

  As the woman shifted to face Emma, her left arm moved. Emma twisted to meet the old lady, her hands dropping from the steering wheel.

  His heart clawing its way up his throat, Lucas raised his gun, but before he had a chance to line up his shot Cuddles went airborne. Her wiry gray body sailed through the window and landed on top of the old lady’s silver head.

  Screams and snarling broke out.

  * * *

  Before Emma had a chance to fight the crazy old bat for control of the gun, Ned’s grandma flung up her hands, grabbing at the wild, howling animal engulfing her head. Slack jawed and disbelieving, Emma picked up the abandoned weapon, thrust open the driver’s door and slid from the car.

  “Emma,” Lucas roared, his gaze and gun locked on the battle taking place in the passenger seat. “Take cover behind my car.”

  He must not have seen her take the gun and thought the old lady was still armed.

  “I have the gun,” Emma shouted back, hoping he heard her through the screams and growls and chorus of sirens. ‘She’s unarmed. Don’t shoot.”

  He glanced toward her, saw the gun she held aloft, and lowered his own weapon, Raw relief registered on his face.

  Emma turned her attention back to the battle taking place in the car. From the blood streaming down the old woman’s face, Cuddles was obviously winning. She might not have teeth, but she had toenails, which she was using to devastating effect.

  “Cuddles! Here girl. Come here.” She crouched to shout the command through the open driver’s door.

  Still snarling, the dog scrambled off the old woman’s head and darted out the door. Emma swooped down to scoop her gasping savior up. As she straightened, wincing at the sharp twinge in her back and knees, a trio of cop cars screamed to a stop on both sides of the road.

  Squad car doors flew open and blue suited officers spilled everywhere.

  “Weapons down,” someone shouted.

  “Guns down.” This from a skinny, baby faced officer crouched behind the door of his car. Baby face had his gun trained on Lucas’s back.

  Emma froze, her skin tightening. Her stomach cramping with fear. What if one of the officers shot Lucas by mistake? It happened all the time. She’d seen it on the news.

  A low, threatening growl escaped from Cuddles’s muzzle.

  Lucas raised his hands above his head, stepped back from the sedan, and slowly bent to place his gun on the ground, then slid it away with his foot. Emma released a breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding.

  “I’m Lieutenant Lucas Trammel. United States Navy. I have a concealed carry permit,” he said loudly as he clasped his fingers behind his neck.

  “You with the dog. Drop the gun and kick it away,” a harsh voice commanded.

  Lucas’s head jerked in her direction. Alarm flashed across his face. “Emma,” he said, the calmness vacating his tone. “Put the gun down.”

  Cuddles’s growling escalated.

  “Easy baby, we’re okay,” Emma whispered, trying to soothe her stressed out pet. She tightened her grip around the dog’s abdomen as she bent to place the revolver on the ground and pushed it away with her foot.

  Another squad car roared up, stopped with a jolt, and Rio jumped out. “Everyone stand down, he’s one of the good guys.”

  Weapons slowly lowered. An officer came over and collected Ned’s grandmother’s gun. Thankfully he ignored Cuddles’s snarled warning. Rio and Lucas huddled together. Their huddle was soon joined by another cop and then another.

  She hovered there by the side of the sedan as two officers opened the passenger door and tended to the old woman’s gouged and bleeding face. Good lord, Cuddles really had done a number on the poor woman. Her lack of teeth hadn’t hampered her at all.

  The next time she glanced in Lucas’s direction, he was gone. Before she had a chance to worry over his abrupt disappearance, muscled arms slid around her waist. She caught a whiff of smoky male musk with a hint of perspiration and leaned back, melting against a hard chest. Heat enveloped her. She sighed, turning in his arms, Cuddles still cradled against her breasts.

  “Jesus.” He rested his forehead against the top of her head. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  She felt the shudder rake him, heard the hard pound of his heart against her ear, felt the dampness of his t-shirt beneath her cheek. He’d been perspiring, but it was fairly cool out, and he hadn’t been sweating on the drive to her house.

  He really had been worried about her.

  “I’m fine.” She leaned back to scan his face. A nerve twitched in his jaw. Adjusting Cuddles’s weight, she freed an arm and reached up to stroke his tense, stubbled cheek. “Honestly, I’m fine. How did you find me anyway?”

  “Your dog.” He offered a ghost of a smile and reached out to scratch behind Cuddles’s ear. “I followed her.”

  Cuddles twisted her neck and licked his hand. She was still panting, but not nearly as bad as she’d been before.

  “Hey,” Lucas called out to Rio. “Grab us some water and a cup.” He shrugged, when Emma raised her eyebrows. “What? She’s probably thirsty. That was quite a marathon for a scrawny little thing like her.”

  A swell of pure joy lightened Emma’s heart, infused every cell in her body, until she felt capable of floating away. A huge smile bloomed.

  She tilted her head back and batted her eyes. “Just admit it. You like my dog.”

  “Like her? Hell, as far as I’m concerned, she gets steak every day.” He slung an arm around her shoulder and turned her around, nudging her toward Rio and the bottle of water he held aloft. “Course we’ll have to put it in the blender.”

  He’d said we’ll. As in coupled.

  She swallowed hard, hope stirring. Did that mean he’d changed his mind? Was he planning on sticking around—well, at least until his next deployment took him?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Samantha, Emma’s friend, was tall, wire thin, and vibrated with nervous energy. She also talked, like a thousand words a minute. Christ, the woman never shut up. Lucas shared an irritated look with Rio as they followed Samantha toward the back of her “shop,” which was merely a reimagining o
f a galvanized storage shed.

  “What’s this about anyway?” Samantha asked, glancing at the hoard of blue suited officers and plain clothes detectives who’d followed Rio, Emma, and him into the building. Without waiting for an answer, she swung around to look at Emma. “Did I tell you Roger got a promotion? He’s going to be vice president of operations.”

  Before Emma had a chance to answer either of the woman’s questions, Samantha’s mouth was off and running again.

  The loveseat was shoved back against the far wall, partially covered by bolts of fabric. He glanced at the red, blue, and yellow geometric pattern and grunted in approval. At least it wasn’t some kind of flowery shit.

  “Try not to cause too much damage,” Emma said, hovering protectively over the loveseat as two uniformed officers dragged it away from the wall. “I paid an arm and a leg for that thing.”

  Lucas flinched, his pulse accelerating. She’d almost paid with her life as well.

  “I think my neighbors are stealing my water.” Samantha watched the officers tip the piece of furniture over and lay it on its back. “The bills are simply atrocious. There must be some kind of law against that.”

  “We’ll look underneath it first,” Rio said, kneeling in front of the gaping undercarriage with its dangling wisps of gauzy casing and crisscrossing wires. “Bristol had to hide them somewhere they wouldn’t be noticed.”

  “Hide what?” Samantha asked, her eyes widening. “What’s this about anyway?

  Lucas wrapped his arm around Emma’s waist and drew her against his side, ignoring Cuddles’s groan of disapproval as she got squashed between them. It had been two hours since Bristol’s demented grandmother had kidnapped her, but the terror of those endless minutes while he searched the streets still breathed inside him. He needed the feel of her soft, warm weight against his side, needed the feel of her bare arm brushing his, needed the proof of her existence.

  Fuck, he’d faced the possibility of life without Emma two hours ago, and it had brought him to his knees. He wasn’t ready to let her out of his sight or his arms.