by Lauren Bach
From outside the voice cracked through the night. “It’s done. Release a hostage and nobody will get hurt.”
“Haynes,” Bogen hissed from behind them. “Get her out now! We’re leaving.”
Tess searched his eyes, disbelieving. Dallas wasn’t really considering leaving her. She’d seen the torment in his eyes earlier, knew he cared.
“Don’t leave me,” she pleaded. “Please.”
His response shocked her. He grabbed her arms, pinching the tender flesh. Gasping in pain she looked up, appalled by the uncompromising features on the face she adored. Contempt glittered from the silvery eyes she’d come to know intimately.
“Little fool,” Dallas shook her roughly. “You mean nothing to me. You were a convenience, a way to pass time. Now you’re a bargaining chip. Get out.”
He shoved her away, toward the door, then hurried off to follow Bogen. Her wet shoes skidded across the floor nearly causing her to lose her balance. God, what was happening? What had she done?
“We’ve kept our end of the deal,” the voice outside warned. “Send out a hostage or we move in.”
It was over.
Trembling, Tess walked toward the door, opening it without looking back and stepping onto the porch. The rain fell in torrents, pushed by the wind. Blinding lights greeted her, forcing her to shield her eyes.
She heard a sharp metallic clack as someone chambered a round. Her knees buckled. What if they shot her? How could Dallas do this to her?
She started to turn away, to run back in the house when a voice called out. “It’s okay, ma’am. Just walk straight ahead.”
She was crying now, frightened. When she cleared the steps the man rushed forward, throwing a heavy vest over her.
“FBI, ma’am. It’s bulletproof.” She didn’t catch his name. He tugged the vest in place, shoving her head down as he hurried her away from the house. “Don’t let it worry you.”
The night came alive with activity. Grim-looking men and women -- some uniformed, some not -- swarmed over the clearing and the surrounding woods. All carried shotguns. Two officers hustled her into a waiting car, well away from the house.
One of them ducked his head into the car, oblivious to the water pouring in with him, peppering her with questions. “How many other hostages are inside? How many men are guarding them? Did you see what kind of weapons they have?”
Tess blinked. “I, I was the only hostage. I saw four men in the house, but...there could be more.” Dallas, forgive me. “And they all have machine guns.”
Before she finished gunshots echoed through the night.
“Stay down,” the man yelled, shoving her onto the floorboard. She buried her head on her knees as the gunfire escalated and grew deafening, covering her cries.
Just as quickly as it had begun, it was over. Someone yelled, headlights came on, people rushed about. “We’ll get you out of here soon, ma’am,” the man promised before hurrying away. “I’ll be right back.”
A loud rumble of thunder boomed, echoing like a cannon shot. Deadly.
“We need an ambulance at the back of the house.” A voice came across the two-way radio in the front seat, causing her to stiffen.
Dallas.
A vision of him lying on the ground, covered in blood, flashed through her mind, quickly followed by the picture of him yelling at her. You mean nothing to me!
She looked down at the leather jacket she wore, remembered how he’d wrapped her in it before leaving the house, assuring her comfort over his. Or so she’d thought. She hid her face in her hands, felt bile burn her throat. Sobs wracked her body. This couldn’t be happening.
The car door was wrenched open startling Tess. A tall, middle-aged man in a dark trench coat smiled at her, his kind eyes staring out from behind rain spattered glasses.
“I’m Barry Neilson, FBI, Washington.” He reached down, squeezing her cold hand. “Are you okay, Miss Marsh?”
Tess shook her head, moving to get out of the close confines of the car in spite of the rain. Standing, she gulped in the night air, resting her head on the metal doorframe. Nothing made sense.
“I keep thinking this is a dream.” She was crying again, tears slipping free even though she kept her eyes tightly clenched. “That I’ll wake up and none of this will be true.”
“It’s not a dream, Tess.”
The sound of Dallas’ voice brought her head snapping up. She blinked in disbelief as she saw him move in beside Neilson, calmly offering her a white foam cup of coffee, rain sheeting off the dark slicker he wore. Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly.
She launched herself into his arms, weeping. “You’re alive! I was so afraid...”
Behind her she heard Barry cough. “Tess Marsh, may I introduce a colleague, Grey Thomas.”
Colleague?
Removing her hands from Dallas, Tess backed away looking from Barry to Dallas.
Wait a moment...
How did Barry know her name? And why was Dallas here? Why wasn’t he with Bogen and the others? A prisoner...
She stared at the badge hanging around Barry’s neck identifying him as FBI. Dallas wore an identical one. Her pulse pounded loudly in her ears. She shook her head trying to clear the mist of denial.
“I can see you two need to talk. Excuse me.” Barry backed away, blending into the crush of people.
But his words came back to her. He called Dallas...Grey. Grey Thomas. Something was terribly wrong here. “Dallas? I don’t--”
Ignoring the rain, he pulled her through the mud toward the rear of the squad car, trying to find a more private spot. “It’s Grey, sweetheart, and I’m sorry to have duped you, Tess.”
She stared at the badge hanging around his neck. “FBI?” she questioned, never taking her eyes off him. Dallas was an FBI agent. Dallas’ name was Grey. Grey Thomas.
It felt like she’d been slapped. Rage exploded in her head as the implication dawned on her, crystalline clear, leaving her feeling betrayed. Violated.
Sweet Jesus. She’d slept with him -- all the while thinking he was a gangster. All the while thinking she cared for him?
A part of her had nearly died at the thought he’d been injured earlier. And before that, when he’d forced her to leave the house, her heart had broke. She hadn’t wanted freedom then. She’d wanted to stay with him, even when he’d pushed her away.
What was wrong with her?
They had made love. Again and again. She had begged him to take her. Gave up her will to escape. Believed she would die without his protection.
Grey moved closer, watching the confusion, the fury, play across her face. He knew the news was a terrible shock. He desperately needed to talk to her alone, to explain, to reassure. And to make sure she knew which parts had been real and which hadn’t. Christ, he needed to figure that out himself. This was unfamiliar territory.
She shoved her hair from her eyes, her voice trembling. “You knew how frightened I was. And you had the power to take all that fear away -- at any time.”
He squeezed her shoulders lightly. “I was afraid you’d act differently if you knew the truth. If Bogen and Snake had even suspected you weren’t afraid, you could have been in even more danger.”
“So you used me?”
He couldn’t deny it. “There were ten other women being held captive that we had to account for. Would you have sacrificed them for your own peace of mind?”
“Of course not.” She stepped away, shrugging free of his touch. There had been other women being held? It would have been comforting to know she wasn’t alone. “If you had given me a choice, I would have played along. Helped you.”
“I didn’t need help. I needed to keep you safe.”
His statement appalled her with its sheer male arrogance.
“You didn’t have to sleep with me to do that.”
“You’re right. I didn’t have to. I wanted to. Just give me a chance to explain, and I think when you hear the whole story you’ll understand.”
“Understand?” she repeated.
Oh, she understood perfectly.
Forgiving was another matter.
She turned away, unable to face him as every little nuance of her captivity replayed in her head. He had deliberately misled her. Used her fears against her. Manipulated her trust. He could have spared her a lot of distress, a load of angst when she believed herself to be infatuated with an outlaw. God, how foolish he must think her.
Once more his hand closed over her shoulder, turning her back to him.
“Tess, please say something, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart? How dare he patronize her now?
Stepping back, she clenched her fist, hating what he’d done, the grief he’d caused. Worst, he’d stolen her heart then trampled it. Just as he’d stolen her innocence. Her outrage swelled, exploded.
“Bastard,” she hissed. Then she slugged him in the face with every bit of strength she possessed, sending him sprawling backward into the mud.
CHAPTER NINE
Grey’s jaw smarted.
He levered himself off the ground as Tess backed away, obviously shocked by what she’d done.
“Oh, God, I--” She whirled, disappearing into the edgy chaos surrounding them.
“Tess, wait.”
A car barreled past Grey, its tires spinning in the mud, the trampled vegetation offering scarce traction. He shot the driver a look, then tore after Tess, almost catching her before he realized his intent.
He slowed. Damn it, he couldn’t just run up and overpower her. Force her to listen.
Or handcuff her to the nearest bed and make love to her until the anger passed and there was only pure, honest sensation.
Dallas would have done that.
Grey couldn’t.
His temper sparked, wanting to flare as he struggled to contain his frustration, reluctant to give her space. He couldn’t. Not yet. Not until they’d talked.
Actually, he just wanted her to listen. He wanted to do all the talking. Unfair as hell, he knew, but he wanted it just the same.
He scowled at his own narrow-mindedness. Tess had a perfect right to be mad, she had a right to demand answers. To scream...to cry...to rail against the injustices she’d been forced to endure.
Instead she’d sucker-punched him and fled.
Of all the outcomes he’d imagined this hadn’t been one.
Peeling off his muddy jacket, he stepped around the open door of the patrol car and into the noisy clearing beside the house. The yellow glare of headlights artificially illuminated the night, giving everything a surreal appearance. The rain had picked up again, in earnest, soaking him anew.
He noticed several officers huddled near a battered trailer, talking on two-way radios, an impromptu command center. The raid was multijurisdictional and included officers from FBI, ATF, the county sheriff and the state police. Even though everyone would have been briefed before the raid that Grey was an undercover agent, he got more than one second glance, more than one inquisitive stare. So had Tess. Which bothered him.
He knew how the grapevine worked at a major crime scene, knew many of them had already put two and two together. They knew Tess had been Grey’s hostage.
His feelings of protectiveness ballooned as he watched Tess’ blond head weave through the commotion. For a moment he debated getting Barry Neilson to go after her. Maybe for her sake, Grey needed to back away, give her time.
But when he saw the direction she was headed, he started swearing again. Quickening his pace, he ran, hoping to cut her off.
* * *
Tess didn’t care where she went. The need to get away, to be alone, drove her blindly. Had everyone but her known Dallas was an undercover FBI agent? That Dallas wasn’t even his real name?
She ducked around vehicles, avoiding stares, hating the pity she glimpsed in more than one face. A large van emblazoned STATE POLICE loomed directly in her path. A uniformed officer headed toward her, hand raised. “Stop, ma’am.”
Tess stepped sideways, intent only on bypassing the officer. To her horror, she came face-to-face with Bogen.
His hands were cuffed behind his back, and officers flanked either side. His trademark sunglasses were gone, his scarred face more frightening than ever. Bogen snarled when he saw her.
“Well, if it ain’t Haynes’ whore! I should have taken care of you that first night. I still might.”
Even as he spoke the officers shoved Bogen into the van and out of sight. Though the confrontation lasted only seconds, Tess felt herself start to shake. She turned, struggling to retrace her steps, unsure of where to go. She felt sick, scared, humiliated. Utterly helpless.
A hand gently grasped her shoulder. Strong, familiar arms embraced her. Even now she didn’t think, didn’t hesitate to turn to Grey.
“Tess.”
“Make it go away,” she wept. “Tell me it’s not really happening.”
He saw the depth of her torment, knew it was something he couldn’t fix. “I’m sorry.”
She lowered her head against his chest, giving in to the nearly debilitating need for comfort, not caring who watched or what they thought.
Behind them, ATF agents and SWAT team members filed in and out of the basement, carrying confiscated weaponry. Grey tugged her away, into the darkness, shielding her from prying eyes.
When they were alone he smoothed the wet hair from her forehead, pressed his lips to her temple as he enfolded her against his body, offering warmth. Her clothes were soaked. Her skin felt clammy and she was trembling. Shell shock.
He held her tightly, letting her cry, wishing he had the words to heal her anguish. But no words were adequate. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do to make it better. He wanted to pick her up and kiss her until neither of them remembered the pain, the problems. The mess that was their life, their relationship. And they did have a relationship -- good or bad -- whether either of them wanted to admit it or not.
When she quieted, Grey pulled a bandanna from his pocket and pressed it into her hand. The muffled sounds and shouts coming from the compound intruded, shattering the fragile moment.
She straightened, wiping her eyes.
“Grey...Dallas. I don’t even know what to call you.” She stepped away, crossing her arms to ward off the chill.
He knew there were a lot of things she could call him, was grateful she didn’t. He stepped closer but kept his hands at his sides. She had to be freezing, but he sensed she’d resist any attempt to draw her back in his arms.
“We need to get you someplace warm. I’ll have Barry take you--”
“Are you coming, too?” She pinned him with eyes that were huge, sad; her voice low, anxious. “I...I don’t want to go anywhere without you.”
He knew what that admission cost her, could sense her inner turmoil. He wished he could promise to stay at her side, to fight all the battles for her. But he couldn’t. Besides, once she regained her bearings, she wouldn’t want him to. Once she regained her bearings, she might hate him.
As if on cue, Barry stepped out of the shadows. He exchanged a knowing glance with Grey. Both men had dealt with hostage situations, knew the tumult of emotion experienced upon release. Barry, however, definitely had the advantage of professional distance in this case.
“Grey needs to stay here a while longer,” Barry interjected smoothly. “I’ll take you somewhere quiet. You can contact your family. Then we’ll need to get a statement.”
Tess cast a wary look in Grey’s direction, her uncertainty plain.
“You can trust Barry,” Grey said. “He’ll take care of you; keep you safe.”
Safe? Tears stung her eyes. For the past three weeks, the only time she’d felt safe had been with Dallas. The need to stay close to him battled with her desire to retreat. “When will I see you again?”
“Soon.”
She noticed the slight flattening of his lips, the evasive shift of his eyes. Soon? It felt like a brush-off.
She stiffened. Why had she expecte
d more? He had a job to do...had been doing his job all along.
She moved toward Barry, taking yet another step away from Grey. From Dallas.
“Do you want me to get your personal belongings from the cabin?” Grey offered.
“No.” She suddenly felt exhausted. Befuddled. More than anything she simply wanted to be alone. To try and make sense of what had happened. “I don’t want anything that will remind me of the time I spent here.”
* * *
The next eighteen hours were long and arduous. First Tess went to the local hospital for a physical. She lay on the table, silently counting tiles overhead, trying not to think about being poked and prodded. A female agent remained during the exam, taking notes. One more humiliation. The questions were as cold and sterile as the small exam room. Had she been raped? Physically abused? Drugged?
She shook her head each time, then remembered the pills Dallas gave her the first night.
“Did you suffer any long-term effect from taking them?” the doctor asked, scribbling on her chart.
“No.”
“Is there a possibility you were sexually abused during the time you were drugged?”
Tess closed her eyes, recalling that awful night in the pantry. She shook her head again. “No.”
“You understand, we have to ask -- to assess whether you were exposed to any sexually transmitted diseases,” the doctor explained with polite frankness. “Or at risk for pregnancy.”
Heat crept into her cheeks.
At risk for pregnancy.
The doctor moved on to other questions, his assumption plain: She hadn’t been raped: therefore, she couldn’t be pregnant.
Oh, but she could.
Dallas had not used a condom that first time.
Automatically her mind tried calculating days. Exactly when was her last period?
Right before she was captured – three weeks ago. She wasn’t even due to start yet.
She clung to the slight feeling of relief. She was probably safe, though it was too soon to know.
After the doctor finished his exam, an older woman came into the room. She introduced herself as a psychologist and talked briefly about post-traumatic stress, recommending that Tess consider counseling upon her return home. Tess was grateful the woman didn’t push. The last thing Tess wanted to discuss was how she felt. She honestly didn’t know. At this moment she felt detached. Five minutes ago she’d wanted to cry.