by Ann Raina
“Matthew! Please, help me!”
Michael searched the ground. A lath. A club. Some hard wood. He would take anything. He shoved aside debris of a wall. Stones wouldn’t do. A hammer, a saw. Whatever came handy. He needed a weapon, damn it! The voices of the goons got louder, closer. Hell, are they searching for me?
“Stop fighting, you fucking whore!”
“Matthew!”
A hard smack against her head and she fell silent. She sobbed, lost, frightened to death.
Michael realized the hoodlums had their car parked further up the alley. They will pass me! He found a steel handle, rough at the edges, some broken tool no one had bothered to collect. It was heavy in his hands. When the shadows of the three figures passed by the shop, Michael lay flat on the ground, escaping their eyes.
They moved on, shoved their victim with hard punches. Alyssa’s crying got louder.
In the darkness, Michael stood, steel bar in hand, waiting for the right moment. He needed to calm down. The noise grew dim, a car door swung open. In an assault of adrenaline, fearing he might be too late, Michael exited the broken shop, rushed the two men and crash-landed the steel bar on the man closest to him. He missed the head, but the man went down on his knees, screaming. Michael brought up the bar a second time, correcting his miss. The goon was out cold on the concrete, gun slipping his hand beside the open transporter.
The bearded man let go of Alyssa, swiveled round, weapon pointed. The steel bar hit his arm. Amid his scream, he jabbed Michael hard in the face. Michael was too slow and the hit knocked him sideways against the car. The bar clattered between the curb and a tire. In a blur, Michael recognized Alyssa struggling in the loading zone of the transporter. The second blow brought him back like an irrational wake-up call. He focused clearer, sharper while time seemed on hold. The face of the bearded man, sans his hat, was large, his head covered with unruly, dark blond hair that left his ears bare. He had wild eyes, large and angry. He battered the man he had thought fleeing with his fists, but then Michael punched the boxer’s nose twice in fast succession and while the hoodlum staggered backward, Michael grabbed his face rammed him against the car side, slammed his head into the passenger window and did it again until the men went limp. The attacker slumped to the ground, blood covering his face and neck. Michael turned away when he didn’t move again. He didn’t care if the man lived or died. Quickly, he pulled the hood off Alyssa’s face. “You’re all right, Al, everything’s fine.”
“You fucking son of a bitch!” She spat at him, struggling to sit. Her face was contorted with fear and rage, wet from tears.
He smiled and didn’t bother to wipe his face. He was so relieved, she could have done anything at the moment and he would have smiled. “I’m happy to see you, too.” He searched the men and found the key. “Turn round so I can open the cuffs.”
“Why’d you run?” she complained, rubbing her hurting wrists. She was close to hysteria. “Why the fuck did you leave me? They’d have kidnapped me, for fucking’s sake!”
He searched the goons’ jackets and pants thoroughly, but didn’t find anything aside from used money clips and some change. He cursed under his breath. The clothes were good quality, the labels cut out. He had never before seen their faces, he was sure of that. Some local hitmen maybe, men you call if you want a dirty job done quickly without involving your own people. Professionals? What the fuck did they want from her? “We gotta go and call the police.” He took her hand and pulled her out of the car.
She braced her legs and stopped, staring down at the men’s slack faces. “No!” The mere idea seemed to frighten her more than the thought of being abducted. “We better be out of here, Matt, but no police!”
He grabbed her arm tighter, searching her face for seriousness. “Listen, it was attempted kidnapping! We have to report it! They gonna go to jail for this!”
“You smashed ‘em to pulp.” She squinted for a second, forcing her breath to slow down and found she could stand on her own. That was much better than being frightened to death in a transporter. “That’s enough. I won’t waste my time with useless interviews by the police.”
“Useless? Hell, we got ‘em! They won’t go anywhere!”
“I don’t fucking care!” She jogged toward the main street, pulling him with her.
He winced as the bruises his body had suffered started to hurt. “Where’re you going?”
“Where no one can find us!”
Michael was desperate to place a call.
Alyssa had chosen a hotel, fifteen stories high, with the room on the topmost level. The receptionist had—according to the quality of the hotel and Michael’s credit card—not even twitched at his deranged exterior, but helped out with a large room and promised to send a first-aid kit immediately after they had both denied calling an ambulance.
The need to inform Linda was pressing back his wish to lie down and sleep until pain abated. He felt as if hit by a truck. Lying on the bed, he closed his eyes. Alyssa buzzed about the room, preparing a towel with ice cubes. Sleep, yes, sleep would be wonderful. He ripped his eyelids open again.
Alyssa gently pressed him down on the pillows and laid ice on his aching cheek and eye. “You were so damn brave.”
Why do I feel like a fool then?
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am. You saved my life.” She kissed him tenderly on his lips.
The fool feeling vanished immediately.
* * * *
She grimaced seeing how badly he was injured. Never in life had she imagined to half carry her lover to a hotel after a dinner-and-movie date. She didn’t want to think about the hoodlums. Who they were or where they had come from. She banned the thought where she would have ended if Michael hadn’t rescued her. Damn, it had been a close call!
“It looks worse than it is.”
She sat back on her heels on the bed. “Are you always a macho or is that act for me?”
“I’ll be okay.”
“I was so afraid they’d kill you.” Tears trickled down her cheeks. She touched his right cheek gently and he took her hand in his.
“I’m not that easy to kill.”
He sounded like macho Bruce Willis and she took it the same way. “Said Butch Cassidy. You won’t feel too good tomorrow.”
“I’m not up for dancing at the moment, too. What about you?”
“Shaking like a leaf. Still, could’ve been much worse without you. I’m sorry I spat at you.”
“Never mind.”
“I’m so confused. And afraid. Who were these guys?”
“I’ve not the slightest idea at the moment.”
“I could be dead by now. You could be dead. Oh, God!” More tears flowed down her cheeks and dripped off her chin.
“Don’t you have any idea what they wanted from you?”
“No, no idea.” She took a Kleenex from the nightstand to blow her nose. “I’m just a secretary.” She shook her head. “Just a freakin’ secretary in a vinery.”
* * * *
Michael used the minutes Alyssa retreated to the bathroom to quickly dial Linda’s number on his cell phone. Though late at night, Linda answered on the second ring. Michael envied her to be awake the same moment.
“I hope, it’s important enough,” she simply said and listened to his report about the attack. “Both men were alive when you left?”
“Yes, but they’re pretty smashed.”
“Did they identify themselves in any way?”
“They clearly planned the abduction and I was just in the way.”
“If that rang true they’d have killed you.”
“They tried.”
“They tried to frighten you, that’s different.” Linda took notes and kept the pen poised, thinking. “Were they Americans?”
“I bet. They had no IDs on them, but by the looks—they were no Middle East origins if you mean that.” He gave her a quick description of both of them.
Linda thought it would’ve been wiser to kill t
he men, but she didn’t say it aloud. “Which means another group is interested in Kamal’s business. I can’t say I’m surprised. I’ll send a car to check.” She took a deep breath. “You have to press Alyssa for the truth. It’s about time. You risked your life for her so she owes you. Make that clear or walk out. That’ll threaten her enough, I’d guess.”
“You wanna tell me how to do my job?”
“I’d prefer if I hadn’t to.”
“Bitch.” But the line was already dead.
Alyssa’s face was close enough to touch, but he didn’t summon the strength to lift his hand. The smell of soap on her body was lovely. She looked beautiful with the mass of wet hair around her worried face. Dressed in the hotel’s bathrobe, she looked like a teenager. A very distressed teenager.
“How do you feel?”
He ground his teeth when a wave of pain hit his body. “Had better days.”
“You shouldn’t wrestle with the bad guys.”
He lifted his brows. “Should I leave ‘em to you?”
Alyssa’s smile faded around the edges. “I’d be dead, I suppose, if it hadn’t been for you. Maybe not at once, but later on, surely.” She kissed his forehead softly as if afraid to hurt him. “Thank you, Matt, my rescuer.”
“You’re welcome.” He felt so tired, but when he closed his eyes, the moment of the attack came back. The guns. The angry faces. The fear of losing her. He shivered with the thought that—if he had come too late—she would’ve been away for good. Killed after torture. He knew it. The logic of his job demanded of him to calculate on worst scenarios. There wasn’t much room for happy ever after.
“Sleep, Matt, I’ll call you in sick for tomorrow.”
“No, I’d better do that myself.”
Alyssa frowned. “You don’t want Lady Summerston to know where you are, right? And especially not with whom.”
He didn’t like the low burning anger in her voice, but found no words to soothe her. His face, his stomach and all of his ribs hurt too much to think straight. He was lucky if he didn’t blurt out who he truly was. He needed to call Lester, but that, too, had to wait. “No, I guess, it’s better I tell her I’m out of town and had an accident.”
“All right.” She brought him the telephone. “Sure, you want to do this? Why bother about her feelings?”
“I work for her.” He reached for the phone, but she kept it out of his reach. “Please, Al, don’t make this too hard for me.”
“She doesn’t own you.”
“I work for her.”
“You said that already. But she doesn’t treat you like a worker. It’d be better if you quit.”
“We had this conversation. The telephone, please? Thank you.” He dialed the main phone number of the estate. “Ms. Monroe, please.” Within the break, Michael glanced at Alyssa’s face. Anger was replaced by a kind of anxiety he had not seen before. She crossed her arms under her breasts and when she found him looking at her she turned away.
“Monroe.”
“Hello, this is Matthew. I was out of town and had an accident.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Not seriously, but I won’t make it back before tomorrow.”
“Are police involved? Do you need a lawyer?”
“No, Ms. Monroe, I handled it. I’m fine.”
“I can send a driver to fetch you. Just tell me where you are.”
“I’ll be okay. Thanks for your concern, but I’ll make it back alone.”
He heard her frown and imagined the perfect powdered face to twitch. Her voice didn’t give away if she was angry.
“As you wish. We expect you tomorrow then.”
“Yes. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
He gave back the phone and sank into the cushions, exhausted.
“She wanted to send a car, right?”
He nodded.
“Pretty eager to get her toy back.”
“It was Ms. Monroe and I’m not her toy.”
“No, you’re about everybody’s toy.”
Michael suddenly understood. “Come here, please, sit down.”
Alyssa put down the telephone on the nightstand and sat close to him, her gaze directed at his bruised hand which held tight to hers.
“My job’s more than just making nice conversation. You knew that from the beginning. Firsthand, so to say. But I’m not in love with any of these women. I consider this a job, Al, believe me. They mean nothing to me.”
“And Lady Summerston? What does she mean to you?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because it’s damn obvious she wants you.” Her voice rose, words hissing. “She thinks she owns you. Owns every man working for her. She made pretty clear she didn’t want me in the house, and if I wasn’t such a computer freak George would already have fired me because of her!” Alyssa claimed back her hand, too restless to sit. “She told me to leave the boys alone from the beginning. She told me that I can’t have any of them. And now you tell me you aren’t her toy! Doesn’t sound convincing, does it?”
He didn’t give in to her pouting and whining. The message that he meant so much to Alyssa she wanted him to quit was stored away for later consideration. “I’m not owned by Lady Summerston or anyone else. And I’m sure she doesn’t want me personally. I haven’t seen her since she made me a member of her escort service. There’s no indication that she has any interest in me at all.”
“You don’t know her, then? Haven’t been her escort?”
“No. Not a single day.” Admitting that Lady Summerston didn’t take any of the callboys as company on her own excurses wasn’t on the list right now. He reached out for her, wanted her close to touch. “Please, Al, what more do I have to do to convince you?”
“Guess, after tonight I shouldn’t doubt you.” She hesitated before she sat down. The lines on her forehead were deep. “I don’t want to compete with another woman, Matt. Not with anyone. I just can’t. I want to know that you’re mine. Mine alone, no matter if you sleep with other women who pay for it. If you can’t promise me that, okay, I’ll deal with it. But don’t tell me lies and leave me all of a sudden.” She hung her head. “I know that sounds stupid and faithless, but I’ve been left alone too often.”
Michael wanted to kiss her, wanted to draw her close and press his lips on hers to let her know he wouldn’t be another jerk who just walked away. He hated his job. He hated that he needed her to gain information and that he would go as far as he had to. The moment she knew the truth would be the moment she would slap his face and call him the worst liar she ever met. “Alyssa, I need you.”
“Not just because you like battling bad guys in the gutter?”
Her quiet question made his heart ache. Admitting that he was in love was so wrong, but still… “No, not just to fight because I haven’t anything better to do.”
She kissed him. Gently. Lovingly. She cupped his face, careful not to touch the bruises, and looked in his eyes. “I do love you, Matthew Hathaway, don’t let this be a mistake.”
Michael made it out of bed, but held tight to the doorframe before he was able to walk on. Every movement hurt as if he had wrestled and not just clubbed two hoodlums to pulp. Shouldn’t I feel great to have won? And then there was his face. He dared to glance at the bathroom mirror. His left eyebrow was cut and both cheeks were darkly bruised. Alyssa had taken care of him and with the help of painkillers, he had slept through the night. However, pain returned in nauseating waves. He brushed his teeth and was halfway back to bed when Alyssa entered the room.
“You look worse than yesterday night.”
He returned her kiss. “That’s my usual good morning face. Get used to it.”
“Honestly.” She put down the paper bags and took off her cardigan. “Please, lie down again and let me have a look at the wounds.”
“Playing nurse on me?”
“Since I kept you away from a hospital, I should.” Though he didn’t say a word she knew what he thought. “If I had t
aken you to a hospital they’d have asked you about the fight.” She caressed his cheek. “I’m sorry, Matt, I was selfish.”
Michael smiled very honestly, realizing he gained more of her trust by the minute. “I’m doing fine, Al.”
“Okay.” She inhaled, glad the subject was through. “I bought something for breakfast. Are you up to bagels and coffee?”
“Coffee sounds great.”
“I’ll be back in a minute. Just wanna wash my hands.”
He heard her buzz around in the bathroom. With his eyes closed, he leaned back into the soft cushions. Sunlight touched his face. Aside from the pain, he felt wonderful. He had saved Alyssa from some hoodlums. His satisfied smile died away when he thought about the circumstances once more. The two men had not been ordinary robbers who killed for a purse. Where is the connection to Kamal and Alyssa?
“Here you go. Coffee and coffee and—if you’re hungry enough—some bagel and cream cheese.” Alyssa sat the tray on the bedside. “Shall I feed you?”
He had never been more content in his life. The thought about his duties was buried under happier images of a day with Alyssa. “Tempting. But I’ll manage to hold a mug.”
“Here you go.”
“Thank you.” He drank and eyed her over the rim. “Yesterday you said you were left alone too often. Why? What happened?”
She blew over her coffee while she sat with hunched shoulders at the foot end. A childlike gesture. Her look was hurt. “When my mom met my father, she didn’t know he was a wanted imposter. He pretended to work for an insurance company, but only used my mother as cover. The moment his trick was blown, he disappeared. Of course, he disappeared.” She sipped coffee, her gaze directed at the tray. “He left her on the spot, not caring that there was a child. My mom was alone. Without money. Police came and thought she had known all along.” She bit her lips.