Sunset Promises

by Carla Cassidy

  She gasped as his hands moved up beneath her shirt, stroking the bare skin of her back as his mouth left hers and traveled down the line of her jaw. Her gasp transformed into a moan as his hands cupped her buttocks, pulling her solidly against him, letting her know the extent of his arousal.

  This is madness! her mind screamed. But her body begged for more, wanting the insanity of this passion to last forever. She was lost in his heat and wanted to remain lost until the ache that was building inside her was sated.

  She frowned as she heard a noise rising above the sound of their ragged breathing, louder than the beating of their hearts. A baby. Brook.

  Brook’s cry sliced through her passion-induced haze and Colette stepped away from Hank, grateful that he didn’t try to hold on to her. “I’m sorry…that was foolish…” Colette’s face burned.

  “Probably a reaction of stress,” he said, and she flashed him a grateful look.

  “Yes, I’m sure that’s it.”

  “You’d better take care of the kid.”

  Irritation swept through Colette, a welcomed diversion from other, more frightening emotions. “She has a name. Her name is Brook.”

  “Whatever.” He turned and disappeared back into the bathroom.

  Colette sank down next to Brook, who fussed and sputtered halfhearted cries, on the bed. She was probably wet, Colette thought. As she changed the baby’s diaper, she thought of those moments in Hank’s arms.

  How easily he’d brought her to the brink of submission. How masterful his caresses, his kisses had been to evoke such a violent response in her.

  Had Brook not cried, they would have made love. There was no doubt in Colette’s mind. He would have taken her, and she would have willingly succumbed. With a few mind-numbing kisses, he’d managed to banish all thoughts of Brook’s father from her mind. What kind of a woman was she? To respond so easily to a man who’d kidnapped her and intended to take her to a trial that would put the rest of her life at risk?

  After changing Brook, Colette pulled down the bedspread and got into bed, confused and disturbed by her quicksilver response to Hank. She cuddled Brook close against her. “Don’t worry,” she whispered to the little girl. “I won’t forget that someplace out there is your daddy. We’ll find him and everything will be all right.”

  She tensed as Hank came out of the bathroom, this time clad in a worn pair of sweatpants. Again she was struck by his physique. Why couldn’t he have a pot belly and sunken chest? She turned over, presenting him her back.

  * * *

  HANK SHUT OFF the light, then got into the remaining bed. Through the windows, pale light seeped in around the curtains, making Colette and the baby visible as his eyes adjusted to the semidarkness.

  He’d had the choice of being taken off this case. When Colette had disappeared, his boss had offered him an out, knowing that the entire situation had somehow gone beyond Hank’s control.

  However Hank had opted to stay on, needing not only to prove to his boss, but to himself that he was still the man for the job, still able to hold on to his objectivity. At the moment objectivity wasn’t a problem. His hormones were.

  Something about Colette Connor stirred him as no other woman had for a very long time. Lust. Pure and simple lust. He’d forgotten what it felt like, how difficult it was to fight.

  “Hank?”

  He tensed as her voice drifted across the small space that separated them. “What?”

  “Before I ran away…before I got amnesia and we were stuck together, did we like each other? I mean, were we friends?”

  “Friends?” He rolled the word around in his head. When had he ever had friends? Not for years. Not since he’d lost his dreams. Not since he became a man with nothing more to lose. “We got along all right. I wouldn’t exactly say we were friends.”

  He heard the rustle of her covers as she turned over. “You said we were holed up in a hotel room. What did we do all day?”

  “We watched television. We played cards. We paced and watched the clock.”

  She sighed. “I wish I could remember. I think everything would be much easier if I could just remember it all.”

  “Go to sleep, Colette. We’ve got a long day of travel ahead of us tomorrow.” He didn’t want to hear her voice whispering in the dark. It was too intimate, evoked too many memories.

  “Good night, Hank.”

  “’Night.”

  The room fell silent, the only sounds the whisper of their breathing. Hank stared up at the ceiling, deep weariness sweeping through him. She made him tired. Fighting his feelings of lust, fearing all the things she might remember at any time, anticipating her trying to run again…all of it combined to exhaust him.

  Sixteen more days. Then he would be forever rid of her. He’d forget the taste of her lips, the scent that so stirred him. He’d forget the sound of her laughter, the pain of her tears. He’d give her up to the court, then put her out of his life as effectively as he’d done with other witnesses a dozen times before.

  “Hank?”

  “What?” he snapped, wishing she’d shut up, go to sleep, and stop tossing and turning into his thoughts.

  “Promise me everything is going to be all right.”

  Hank closed his eyes, hardening his heart against the plea in her words. “I never make promises.”

  There was a moment of silence. “Never?”

  “Never,” he answered firmly. “Now for heaven’s sake, get some sleep,” he finished, his tone harsh.

  He knew the moment she fell asleep, heard the rhythm of her breathing change, deepen and slow. Slowly Hank began to relax. For the first time in months, things were back on track. He had Colette where she was supposed to be and he’d see his job through to the end.

  Although he knew Colette needed to remember, to do what the prosecution wanted her to do, for the moment he was grateful she remembered nothing. As long as she didn’t remember why she’d run before, it made his job easier.

  She’d been right about one thing. In the time he’d known her, he’d never heard her break a promise. She didn’t break them…and he didn’t make them. And that’s exactly why she’d run.

  * * *

  “WHAT THE HELL do you mean, you lost them?”

  The cowboy winced beneath Collier’s rage. “At least I got his license number. Trust me, I’ll find them.”

  “Trust you?” Collier snorted derisively. “It’s your fault I’m in this mess. You knew better than to come to the office in the first place. No. I’m through leaving this up to you. I’m sending out some of my boys. They’ll get the job done.”

  “I’m guessing they’re headed your way. They’ll want to get someplace safe in San Bernardino as soon as possible to wait for the trial.”

  “I’ll find them. I’ll call in every damned marker owed to me.” Collier heaved a sigh of aggravation. “Give me the damned license number. We’ll find her. I don’t care if we have to blow up all of Wyoming and half of California. I want that woman dead within the week.”

  “Understood.” The cowboy hung up the phone, narrowing his eyes against the neon lights on the convenience store where he’d stopped to use the phone. Where before this had simply been just another job, it was now becoming personal. Colette Connor was making him look like a fool.

  He shook out a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and lit one, his mind whirling. Not only did he intend to be the one to kill Colette Connor, but he would also see to it that Hank Cooper died with her. In fact, if done right, it would tie up loose ends and nobody would be looking for a murderer.

  A smile curved his lips as he imagined the newspaper headlines: Tragic Murder/Suicide For Key Witness And Protecting Agent. Oh, yes. Collier would be proud of him. Hell, he’d probably pay a bonus if the murders could be done so no finger could ever point to him.

  He took a drag on his cigarette, then flicked the butt away. Thoughtfully he scratched his cheek. He had work to do. He intended to be the one to find Colette and Hank. He
wanted to be the one to kill them. In fact, although he wasn’t about to tell Collier, he’d be willing to do this one for free.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Over the past several weeks, Colette had learned little things about herself, idiosyncrasies that amnesia had stolen momentarily. She’d discovered her abhorrence for the sight of blood, the fact that she hated green beans and now she realized how much she hated silence.

  They had gotten up before dawn and left the motel. For the past hour they’d traveled at a fast clip down the highway, not a word spoken between them.

  The sun peeked over the horizon, sending out shafts of light to dance amid the early morning clouds. It was going to be a beautiful day despite the fact that she was on her way to California for a trial that would probably make her a dead woman.

  She sighed and shot a surreptitious glance at Hank. His attention was focused on the highway, his face devoid of all expression.

  He was such an enigma, so hard on the surface, and yet she sensed a core of good in him that alleviated any fear she might have of him. He had a job to do and getting her to California was that job. She couldn’t hate him for that.

  Since the moment of awakening that morning, Colette had waffled back and forth in deciding what was best for her to do. If her memories came back or somehow the government managed to retrieve them, should she testify or not? Her head insisted she testify, do whatever she could to put Cameron Collier behind bars. However, the prospect of revenge from the man and his cohorts made her faint of heart.

  She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder for danger. There had to be a way out of this mess, but at the moment it eluded her.

  She looked in the back seat, where Brook sat contented in the car seat. She moved her gaze back to Hank again, wanting something to occupy her thoughts besides her dilemma.

  “How long will it take us to reach San Bernardino?” she asked, wanting to break the silence that had lingered too long for comfort.

  “We’ll be there by tomorrow night.”

  “Where are we going once we get there? Another four-star motel room?”

  “No. There’s a safe house there. That’s where we’ll stay from now until the end of your testimony.”

  “A safe house?”

  He nodded. “A place owned by the government in a nice quiet suburb on the west side of the city. We’ll be okay there.”

  “And then after I testify I just leave and wait for Collier’s retribution?”

  “There’s another alternative. You could enter the witness protection plan.”

  Colette frowned. “But doesn’t that mean I promise never to contact my friends or family again?” She shook her head. “No, that’s not a viable option as far as I’m concerned.” She stared out the window, where the sun had fully risen and chased away the last of the morning clouds. “As soon as I find Brook’s father, everything will be all right,” she said more to herself than to him.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  She shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. I just feel like I could face whatever testifying might bring if I knew Brook’s father stood beside me, supported me and loved me.”

  “What makes you think if you find him, that’s what he’ll do?” He glanced at her, his dark brow arched upward. “Maybe he’s just a coldhearted bastard.”

  Colette shook her head. “No, that’s not possible. I could never love a coldhearted bastard.”

  “And what makes you think you love Brook’s father?”

  A blush warmed Colette’s cheeks. “Well, because…because I wouldn’t sleep with a man I didn’t love.”

  Hank’s eyes glittered darkly. “That wasn’t the song you were singing last night.”

  The blush grew hotter as she remembered how close she’d come to falling into bed with him. “A gentleman wouldn’t bring that up.”

  He laughed, the sound rusty, as if laughing wasn’t something he did much. “Colette, I might be many things, but I never pretended to be a gentleman.”

  She looked down at her hands clasped together in her lap. “I will admit something about you attracts me. It’s probably post-pregnancy hormones or something like that.”

  He shook his head. “Can’t be that for me because I’ve never been pregnant.” His eyes sparkled wickedly as he gazed at her again. “And I feel the same kind of inexplicable lust where you’re concerned.”

  The car interior suddenly seemed to shrink. The air grew thick and made it difficult to breathe. Colette lowered her window a couple of inches, although the warm outside air did little to relieve the heat that coiled inside her.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she finally said. “I mean, just because we both feel it, doesn’t mean we have to follow through on it. We’re both adults.”

  “Hmm, of course the fact that we’re both adults is a good reason for following through on the attraction. Get it out of our system. As long as we both understand the rules.”

  “Ah, yes, the rules of seduction, right? No promises, no commitment.” She eyed him thoughtfully. “Have you always played by those rules?”

  He was silent for so long she wondered if he would answer her at all. “A long time ago I didn’t play by those rules,” he finally said, his voice so soft she had to lean toward him to hear. “I committed, I promised, I married the woman of my dreams and on a rain-slick road a drunk driver destroyed it all.”

  “Oh, Hank. I’m so sorry.” She touched his arm, unsurprised when he jerked away from her touch.

  He shrugged. “It was a long time ago. A lifetime ago. There’s a truck stop just ahead. We’ll stop and get some breakfast.”

  Colette realized he wouldn’t share any more of his past with her, was probably irritated that he’d said as much as he had. Part of her was glad. The tragedy of his past only sharpened his appeal, and that’s the last thing she needed.

  Within minutes they sat at a table in the Star Truck Stop, waiting for their breakfast to be delivered. Hank sat facing the door, his gaze moving around the well-lit interior like a hawk seeking prey.

  “Everything all right?” she asked.

  “Fine. Just being cautious.”

  “Aren’t you going to read the menu?” She gestured to the slick tri-fold menu in front of him.

  “It’s been my experience that the best thing to order in a place like this is the daily special.”

  She closed her menu. “I guess I’ll trust you on this and do the same.”

  His lips curved up at the corners. “Ah, we’re making progress. You’re beginning to trust me.”

  “For the moment I have little choice but to trust you,” she returned.

  The waitress arrived to pour steaming coffee and take their orders. She cooed over Brook, winked flirtatiously at Hank and smiled briskly at Colette, then left their table.

  As she sipped the hot coffee, Colette noticed that each time the door opened, Hank tensed, his eyes narrowed in wariness. “You think we’re still in danger?” she asked.

  “Collier knows we have to head toward California. Whoever he had working at the ranch will have told him we left. Collier’s men will be looking for us.”

  “You don’t have any idea who at the ranch might be working for Collier?”

  Hank shook his head. “We ran a background check on the ranch hands, but it turned up nothing substantial on anyone.”

  “I know how we can fool them.”

  “How?”

  “You could take me to Mexico instead of San Bernardino.”

  “Nice try.” He smiled thinly. “I think I liked you better with your memory. At least then you were determined to testify against Collier.”

  “Then why did I run?”

  His gaze slid away from hers. “Who knows? Maybe you got tired of me beating you in gin rummy, or maybe you got sick of fast food. I don’t know why you ran. I only know you’d be a fool to do it again.”

  “I promised you I wouldn’t try,” she reminded him.

  “And you neve
r break promises.”

  She nodded. “And you never make them.”

  Their conversation halted as the waitress reappeared with their breakfast orders. Colette eyed the heaping plate in dismay. “Maybe I should have ordered from the menu. This special would feed three hungry women.”

  “Better eat what you can. Who knows where we’ll be at lunchtime.”

  It was obvious Hank didn’t intend to waste time on small talk. He attacked the meal as if afraid it might be his last. Colette ate as much as she could, then shoved her plate away and instead focused on her coffee.

  There were so many questions she wanted to ask him, not only about her past, but about his own, as well. She’d placed her life and that of her daughter’s in his hands, yet knew almost nothing about him.

  “Are your parents alive, Hank?”

  He looked up from his plate in surprise at the unexpected question. “My mother passed away when I was twenty-two and I don’t know about my father. I never knew him. He divorced my mother when she was pregnant and she never heard from him again. Why?”

  “Just curious. I suddenly realize I know nothing about you.”

  His eyes gazed at her darkly. “You don’t need to know anything about me other than I intend to get you to San Bernardino alive.” He focused back on his breakfast.

  Colette swallowed a sigh and looked at the television bolted into the wall over the counter where a talk show host was interviewing runaway teens.

  If only I’d stayed at the ranch. If only I hadn’t wanted to see life in a big city, she thought. However, all the if-only’s in the world couldn’t change her position now.

  She sat up straighter in the booth as the television displayed a breaking news story and a live picture of the Sleepy-Time Motel appeared. “Hank…look.”

  “Early this morning police were called to the scene of what they thought would be a bloody murder when gunshots were reported at this motel.” The woman reporter paused to take a breath. “The desk clerk confirmed that the room had been rented by a single white male. However, when police entered, they found no body, no blood, only broken windows and dozens of bullet holes in both beds.”