One of the Good Guys

by Carla Cassidy

  “Hang on…here they come,” he said tersely, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel.

  The sports car slid alongside of Tony’s car, metal crunching against metal as it swerved into the side of their car.

  Libby stifled a scream. “What are they trying to do?” she gasped in horror.

  “Force us off the road.” He cursed as with another screech, the sports car slid into them again. Libby shoved the back of her hand into her mouth, trying to hold back another scream as Tony jerked the wheel sideways to escape.

  “Hold on. I’m going to try to lose them.” He punctuated his sentence by flooring the gas pedal, throwing Libby back against the seat with a burst of automotive power. Libby bit her bottom lip and braced herself with a hand against the dashboard, carefully juggling the cup of hot coffee in her other hand.

  “We’re going to have to get off this stretch of highway,” Tony muttered, exploding with an expletive as a gunshot shattered their back windshield.

  “Oh, God, they’re shooting at us,” Libby squeaked in terror.

  Tony placed his hand on the top of her head and shoved her down on the seat next to him. “Keep your head down,” he commanded. “I’ve got to get us off this highway. Right now we’re sitting ducks for them.”

  Libby didn’t need to be told twice to keep her head down. Her body strained against the confines of the seat belt, but she was barely aware of the cutting sensation. She crouched with her head against Tony’s thigh, hardly conscious of the hot coffee that had splashed on her jeans. “I spilled my coffee,” she remarked inanely, as the rest of the dark liquid quickly spread across the beige carpeting on the floor of the car.

  “If we get out of this mess, you can pay for the car wash,” Tony replied tersely as he suddenly wrenched the steering wheel to the right, causing the tires to squeal as he turned off the highway and onto a bumpy dirt road.

  Libby’s stomach did a series of erratic flip-flops, making her grateful she hadn’t eaten anything. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed as she heard the resounding echo of more gunfire and Tony rounded another corner on what felt like two wheels. “Why do I suddenly get the feeling that I’m living out a scene from a ‘Miami Vice’ rerun?” she gasped, looking up at him from her crouched position on the seat.

  “If you happen to see Don Johnson around, tell him we could use his help.” Tony’s jaw was clenched, his eyes narrowed to mere slits of concentration.

  Libby closed her eyes once again as the car continued to travel bumpy back roads at bone-jarring high speed. She could hear the sound of tree branches swishing by and scratching the sides of the car as they flew over roads that were no more than cattle tracks.

  As they zoomed over a particularly hard bump, Libby grasped Tony’s thigh tightly. We’re going to die, she thought, surprised that the thought brought with it no hysterical fear, only an intense anger because they were going to die and she wasn’t sure why.

  They would either have a wreck and die, or the men chasing them would catch them and kill them. She could envision Vinnie at her grave site, his grief deep and despairing. It wasn’t fair…none of this was fair. She hadn’t asked for any excitement in her life. She hadn’t wanted an adventure.

  “We’ve lost them.” Tony’s voice intruded into her morbid thoughts and she suddenly realized the car had slowed down.

  “Are you sure?” she asked breathlessly, not moving from her position.

  “I’m sure,” he replied. “But I’m not sure what’s worse, the claws on your cat or the claws on you.”

  His words made Libby realize that her fingers still dug into his thigh. “I’m sorry.” She released her death grip on his thigh and sat up. “Like Twilight, I’ve also had all my shots.”

  He smiled at her, his eyes still radiating with dangerous glints. “Are you all right?” he asked tersely.

  Libby shrugged and grinned jauntily. “Of course I’m fine. My pawnshop and apartment were vandalized. Some creep crept into my bedroom and put his filthy hand all over my mouth, a guy tried to strangle me in a McDonald’s parking lot. I’ve got hot coffee burning a blister in my leg and I’ve just finished participating in a high-speed chase through the backwoods of the Ozarks. Heck, why shouldn’t I be fine?” She realized she was on the verge of hysteria, but didn’t know how to control it.

  He pulled the car off into the thick growth at the side of the road, then shut off the engine. For a moment they both sat still, the interior of the car darkened by the thick brush that surrounded it. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked, his dark eyes gazing at her intently.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she replied tremulously, taking in a deep breath of air.

  “Let me see that neck of yours.” He turned in his seat and eyed her critically. Beneath the heavy gold necklace, the angry redness of her neck was already turning a vivid blue. “Damn them,” he breathed, his fingers lightly caressing the smooth silkiness of the skin just above the bruised area. “Does it hurt much?” he asked, his dark gaze shining with anger, and something else…something that caused Libby’s breath to come unevenly.

  She shook her head, unsure whether her sudden breathlessness was a delayed reaction to her fear, or the result of the soft, gentle touch of his hand against the sensitive area of her throat.

  “I promise you, nobody will get the chance to hurt you again. I’ll kill them first,” he promised and as he pulled her into the circle of his arms, she believed him.

  But she didn’t want to think about death. The scent of death had surrounded her for too long. The memory of the albino’s cold hands on her arms had been like the fingers of death reaching out for her.

  She wanted life. She wanted the feel of Tony’s warm, vital body to chase away the last lingering vestiges of the graveyard. She needed to lose herself in his very aliveness.

  As he swept a strand of her hair away from her face, she looked up at him. Gone was the anger in his eyes, replaced instead with a flame of fire that turned them into glowing chunks of charcoal. Without warning his lips took hers; hot and wet, they demanded a response. It was a demand she couldn’t help but give in to.

  She responded feverishly, clinging to him as if he were the only stable point in an all-too-dangerous world. His lips were hungry, aggressive, but no more than her own as she pressed against him, wanting to meld herself into the warmth and safety of his arms.

  His lips devoured hers, his tongue invading and probing, and she welcomed him body and soul, allowing the flare of passion to take the place of her fear of death. She wanted the oblivion of his desire, the comfort of his warm, living body covering hers.

  His hands slowly moved down the sides of her sweatshirt to the bottom, then just as slowly caressed upward inside the shirt, against the heat of her skin. She moaned deep in her throat as his hands cupped the mounds of her bra-covered breasts. His hands were fire and the icy fear of death left her as she reveled in being alive.

  She ran her hands down his back, feeling the sinewy muscles as she caressed downward, finally stopping to linger at his belt.

  Her sweatshirt became an encumbrance to be rid of, and as he tugged at it, Libby helped him by raising her hands over her head and allowing the shirt to be pulled off and discarded into the back seat of the car.

  She could smell him, dark and hungry, as his eyes lingered on her round full breasts, the nipples surging tightly against the lacy beige bra. “Libby…” His voice sounded tight as his thumbs brushed the top of the bra. He leaned down and placed his mouth against one peak. She could feel the heat of his lips through the thin material and suddenly she wanted the bra gone, swept away, so she could feel those lips against her flesh.

  She reached around behind and unclasped the bra, shrugging her shoulders and allowing it to fall to her lap. The flame in his eyes burned brighter, threatening to consume her. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, his words ragged with his raspy breathing. He reached out and touched one of her nipples, catching and teasing it between thumb an
d index finger.

  Libby felt her response beginning in the center of her stomach, a roiling heat and ache that slowly vibrated outward. She closed her eyes, emitting another small moan as his lips followed the path trailed by his fingers. She groaned as a nearly forgotten sensation of sexual splendor swept over her, intensifying the ache of need that throbbed in her lower stomach.

  A thud on the roof of the car caused them both to burst apart.

  A squirrel raced down the front windshield and disappeared into a nearby tree.

  Tony expelled a deep breath as Libby released a shuddery sigh. He turned to reach for her again, but for Libby, the spell was broken. “No, please…” she said, confused and embarrassed at the same time. “This…this is all crazy.” She crossed her arms in front of her, shielding the sight of her naked breasts from his onyx eyes.

  For a long moment they merely looked at each other. Libby could see her own confusion reflected in his eyes. With a muttered oath, he flung himself from the car and disappeared into the brush along the side of the road.

  Libby watched him until he disappeared, then quickly scrambled for her sweatshirt in the back seat of the car. My God, where had her brain been? How had she allowed things to get so far out of control? She hardly knew the man, yet she’d been ready to… She shuddered as she thought of what they almost had done.

  She pulled the shirt on over her head, then wrapped her arms around herself, the chill back in her veins. She’d encouraged what had just happened. She’d been afraid, off center, and had wanted his arms to wrap her up securely. But she hadn’t considered what else she might promise in indulging her own needs.

  She rubbed her forehead tiredly, overwhelmed by everything that had happened in such a short space of time. She couldn’t process everything. Still, there was something about Tony Pandolinni that drew her to him. But she certainly hadn’t intended to make love to him in the back seat of his car. She needed him to help her solve the mystery of the necklace. She needed his expertise in criminal matters—and that was all she needed.

  She owed him an apology for allowing their physical intimacy to go as far as it had. She owed him an apology for unconsciously promising things her intellect wasn’t prepared to give. Taking a deep, ragged breath, she leaned her head back against the car seat, gathering her thoughts before she went to find him and offer her apology.

  * * *

  Tony sat on a moss-covered rock, breathing deeply of the clean, country air, trying to eradicate the vision of Libby’s bare breasts. It wasn’t just the thought of her breasts that tormented him and made his desire difficult to kill. It was also the sound of her throaty moans, the sight of her passion-glazed azure eyes, the satiny feel of her heated flesh.

  Damn it, he wanted her so badly, he ached with the need to take her, possess her, make her cry out his name in ecstasy.

  He released a long, ragged sigh and clenched his trembling hands tightly together. He had been physically attracted to her from the moment he had first met her, but he’d been physically attracted to many women in the past, and never had he lost control as he had just now in the car. For heaven’s sake, they had fallen on each other like sex-starved teenagers.

  He breathed deeply once again, reflecting on all the times lately that he had come home after work and sat in his driveway, momentarily wishing there were somebody in the empty house waiting with a hot cup of coffee and a sympathetic shoulder.

  Dangerous thinking, he admonished himself. He could always hire a housekeeper to make his coffee and a therapist to listen to all his problems. He didn’t need a woman in his life. He’d been happy for thirty-six years without one. He wasn’t about to compromise the vow he’d made long ago.

  Still, even as he tried to dismiss thoughts of Libby, his mind filled with hazy, evocative images. Libby in her little blue teddy, handing him a freshly brewed cup of coffee, her eyes promising greater delights to come. Libby, lying in bed next to him, wrapping him up in her heat, enfolding him to her heart.

  Fantasy, he chided himself angrily, unwilling to concede that there might be a need in him that Libby Weatherby, with her easy laughter and direct manner, might be able to fill.

  He turned to see the object of his thoughts making her way through the thick underbrush toward him. She sat down next to him on the rock, and neither of them spoke for a long moment. Tony didn’t want to talk to her, perversely irritated with her because she somehow made him feel vulnerable.

  “Tony, I owe you an apology,” she said softly, not looking at him but instead directing her attention out over the rolling hillside in the distance.

  “You don’t owe me anything,” he countered tersely.

  “On the contrary, I owe you for many things, but I definitely owe you an apology for that scene in the car,” she said, coming right to the point with the straightforwardness he found both appealing and slightly unnerving. “I usually don’t get myself into a position where I could be called a ‘tease,’ but that’s exactly what I did, and for that I’m sorry.”

  When he didn’t answer, she continued, “I really have no excuse for what happened…for letting things go so far. I guess I was scared and I suddenly realized how mortal we are and well, I guess it’s the same way a lot of people felt during World War II. I suppose there were a lot of babies conceived in bomb shelters. I think I read about that sort of thing someplace—it’s some sort of phenomenon…people reaching out for passion in times of facing death—” She broke off and looked at him.

  As she talked, Tony felt his anger dissipating. After all, her explanation made his whole crazy feelings for her—the whole crazy scene in the car—make a certain kind of sense. Of course, they had both responded to the stress of being chased, the fear of being hurt or killed. It was a sort of war-induced sexual freedom. They had smelled death and destruction and had responded by reaching out for each other in the oldest form of communication in the world. It had nothing to do with any special feelings for her; it had nothing to do with her at all. He would have reacted the same to any woman in the same circumstances.

  He turned and smiled at her, feeling relieved. “Making love in a crowded bomb shelter has got to be easier than making love in the front seat of a car…especially with dancing squirrels in the area.”

  She returned his smile, obvious relief on her face, as well. “I think we both agree that what happened between us in the car was a crazy mistake. We’ve been thrown together due to a bizarre twist of fate, and we shouldn’t let that fact force us into a personal relationship we might regret.” She looked at him, her blue eyes serious and level. “I think the best way for us to handle this is to work as business partners, with no personal entanglements to muddle things up.”

  “Absolutely,” Tony agreed instantly, relieved that their relationship had not only been identified in words, but agreed upon, as well.

  “Partners?” She thrust her hand out to him.

  He hesitated only a moment. “Partners,” he agreed, taking her small hand in a firm handshake, ignoring the way even the mere physical contact of her hand in his caused tingles of pleasure to dance up his arm. “We’d better get back on the road,” he said, releasing her hand.

  She nodded.

  As they walked back to the car, Tony was pleased that apparently she wasn’t looking for a relationship, either. It made things so much less complicated, and they had enough complications just trying to keep one step ahead of the men who were after them.

  Now, if he could just forget the hot, sweet taste of her mouth against his. If he could just forget the feel of her silky flesh, the way her breasts had swelled, as if in anticipation of his caress….

  A lapse of memory would certainly make things easier, he thought as he started up the car. But one thing Tony had learned through the years was that life was rarely easy.

  CHAPTER 7

  “How far are we from Dr. Higgens’s lab?” Libby asked once they were traveling again on the narrow dirt road.

  “I’m not sure,” Tony r
eplied thoughtfully. “If I knew where we were, I’d know how far it was to the lab.”

  “Are you telling me we’re lost?” Libby stared at him in dismay.

  “Well, I wasn’t exactly noticing street signs while we were trying to escape our pursuers,” he replied dryly. “Besides,” he continued, smiling at her confidently, “I’m sure we’re just a mile or so off the main highway.”

  As the minutes turned into hours and still they couldn’t find the main road, Tony was grateful for one thing: Libby didn’t say a word. She didn’t chastise him, she didn’t lose patience and he got no feeling of censure from her silence.

  Libby was too busy enjoying the beautiful scenery to notice the passing of time. Even though she was anxious to find Jasper Higgens’s lab and discover some answers as to the value of the golden necklace around her neck, she’d never been this far into the hills of the Ozarks. She looked out the window of the car with interest.

  The rolling hills were covered with spring-awakened wildflowers, and the car passed by dozens of springs and creeks of sparkling clean water. Not only was there a profusion of beautiful plants and flowers, but the area was rife with wildlife. Several times Tony managed to swerve across the gravel road to avoid hitting a hopping rabbit, and once they had rounded a corner and caught sight of a startled deer disappearing farther into the woods along the side of the road.

  “Do you think we need to worry about those men finding us again?” she asked, unconsciously raising her hand to touch the bruised area round her neck.

  Tony shook his head. “If we don’t know where we are, I don’t see how they’ll be able to find us.” He sighed tiredly. “The problem I’m having is that most of these roads around here are just farm trails, with no markings, no street signs to let me get my bearings.”

  Libby could hear the exhaustion in his voice and noticed that the lines in his face had deepened with the passing of hours. She had slept earlier in the car, but she knew he was functioning on the scant sleep of the night before. “Tony, why don’t you pull the car off to the side of the road and take a little nap,” she suggested. “At this point, an hour or two one way or the other isn’t going to make much difference as to when we get to the lab and you have to be completely exhausted.”