by Lynsay Sands
His body's reaction to her nearness was another rather telling point that suggested she was his life mate. Those brief moments when he'd held her on his lap, her intoxicating scent wafting into his nose and her warmth imprinting on his groin . . . He still had a damned erection from the encounter, and he was quite sure she'd felt something too. He'd heard her heartbeat accelerate and her swift, shallow breathing. Oh yes, he was quite certain Mary Winslow was his life mate. He just didn't know what, if anything, he should do about it at the moment. There were so many things that needed tending just now.
"Yes."
Dante glanced down at the phone in his hands with surprise at that abrupt word. It wasn't the usual way Lucian answered his calls to him. Usually he answered with "Speak, Dante." But then, Dante usually called from his own phone. This was Mary's phone and Lucian wouldn't recognize this number, he realized and cleared his throat.
"It's Dante."
"Thank Christ," Lucian growled. "Where the hell have you been? And where is Tomasso? When the two of you went missing--"
"We were taken from the bar you sent us to," Dante interrupted. "Both Tomasso and I were kidnapped. They used drugged darts. I was apparently out for two days and nights," he added grimly, and wasn't surprised by the silence that followed his announcement. No doubt, Lucian was as taken aback at this news, as Dante had been when he'd realized what had happened. Mortal drugs did not work on their kind. They were flushed from the system too quickly to do more than make them woozy or a little faint. They'd had to develop their own drugs to use on rogue immortals and even those only worked temporarily and had to be re-administered too quickly to be viable as more than a temporary stop-gap measure to get the rogue bound up. Yet he'd apparently been unconscious for two days. It suggested that an immortal was behind the kidnappings, or a mortal with information about them that they should not have . . . as well as access to their specialized drugs.
"You got away, obviously," Lucian said finally. "Are you both all right?"
"They still have Tomasso," Dante said quietly, and quickly related how he'd got free and why Tomasso hadn't, finishing with, "We have to get him back."
"Where is he?" Lucian asked at once.
"Do you have a pen?" Dante asked, glancing down at the piece of paper in his hand. Mary had lovely handwriting, he noted. When Lucian said he was ready, Dante read off the instructions Mary had written down. Once Lucian read it back to him, he added, "That is where I came out of the woods onto the road. The house was perhaps a five minute run east from there through the trees."
Lucian grunted and then asked, "Where are you now?"
"In an RV, heading northwest on Interstate 10. The kidnappers are following us. I am hoping that means Tomasso is safe for now. But you need to get someone to him as quickly as possible. I can't guarantee the kidnappers will continue to just follow us, and with the drugged darts they have--"
"Who is this us?" Lucian interrupted. "You took control of a family traveling in an RV to help with your escape?"
"No." Dante glanced toward Mary, and then cleared his throat and said, "I had a little accident with an RV when I was escaping. The woman who was driving it is now helping me."
"A lone woman in an RV?" Lucian asked sounding suspicious.
"She has a dog with her," Dante said with amusement, peering down at Bailey as he petted her again. The shepherd immediately twisted her head to give his hand a swipe with her tongue.
"Still, women do not generally travel in RVs by themselves, even with dogs," Lucian said thoughtfully. "Are you sure she is not one of them and letting you think you are escaping while she delivers you back into the hands of your captors?"
"I'm sure," Dante said at once, his voice firm, but his gaze was now on the back of Mary's head as he tried to slip into her thoughts once more.
"No, of course she's not one of them," Lucian muttered. "You would have read that from her mind were it the case."
Dante grimaced and gave up on trying to read Mary. It was impossible for him to do so. He didn't, however, tell Lucian that, but simply allowed him to think what he would.
"If they have drugged darts that are that effective on us, it would be dangerous for you to try to take on your kidnappers on your own," Lucian muttered.
"Yes," Dante agreed wryly. He'd said, or started to say that just moments ago. It was why he'd done as Tomasso had insisted and fled when they'd heard their captors clattering down the hall outside the room where their cages were. His first instinct had been to stand and fight, but that would have done them little good when their adversaries had the drugged darts. He would have ended up unconscious and back in a cage, probably one that had no loose bars too, and then they simply would have been two more immortals who had gone missing from the bar scene in San Antonio. Escaping to get help had been more sensible. Still, it had been a terrible wrench to leave his brother behind.
"Can you keep ahead of your hunters for a while? Long enough for me to send men to find Tomasso and arrange a trap to catch your kidnappers?"
"I can try," Dante said determinedly.
"Good. Stay on your present course. I'll call you back," Lucian announced and then the phone went silent.
Dante lowered it to peer at its face. Through the cracked glass he saw that the call had been ended. Breathing out a little sigh, he stood and caught at the edges of his afghan as it tried to slip away to the floor. His gaze then moved over the mess he'd traipsed through to get to the bed. Plastic dishes, utensils, and foodstuffs littered the floor, obviously escapees from the open doors and drawers throughout the RV.
He considered the mess, and then his gaze settled on a bag of chips and his stomach rumbled with interest, reminding him that it had been four days since he'd fed it. Glancing to the back of Mary's head, he asked, "Do you want something to eat or drink?"
Shifting her gaze from the rear camera view to the road ahead, Mary frowned at that question from Dante. She hadn't gotten her supper at the truck stop and was hungry, but that wasn't why she was frowning. His question made her realize that, if he'd been unconscious since Friday, Dante couldn't have eaten since some time that day. The poor man must be starved, she realized and quickly reviewed what she had available to feed him. She'd shopped yesterday to stock up for the trip home. She'd picked up hamburgers and sausages to grill, but she'd also bought fresh bread, wraps, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and lunchmeats for sandwiches, as well as chips and pop.
"There is stuff in the fridge to make sandwiches if you like," she said now. "And bread in a Rubbermaid container in the cupboard over the television. Chips, too, should be up there. Go ahead and make yourself some sandwiches if you like."
Her attention divided between the slowly thinning traffic on the highway and the rear camera view of the van following them, Mary listened idly to the activity behind her as Dante presumably made himself a sandwich. Doors and drawers opened and closed, accompanied by a lot of crinkling and rustling sounds.
"The coffee machine does not work," Dante announced after several moments had passed. "What do you want instead of coffee?"
Mary's brows knit briefly at the news about the coffee machine, but then she realized what the problem was and said, "Flick the switch on the side of the lower cupboard it's sitting on. The switch is for an inverter."
"Inverter?" he echoed with interest.
"The coffee machine works on one hundred twenty volts, and the RV battery only gives twelve volts or something." She explained, then frowned. "I don't know if I'm getting this right. Joe explained it to me at the time, but . . ." She shrugged. "Basically to use the coffee machine either the generator has to be on when we're stopped, or you turn on the inverter while we're driving. Just remember to turn it off after you're done."
"Okay," he muttered and then she heard the click of the switch being thrown.
Sighing, she concentrated on her breathing and the road ahead, refusing to allow the image of him to rise up in her mind again. Also refusing to glance around for another peek at
him. You're much older than him, she reminded herself firmly. It is inappropriate to be drooling over such a young man. Behave.
"How do you take your coffee?"
Mary almost glanced around at the question, but caught herself and said, "Black, please."
The words had barely left her lips when he appeared at her side to set a travel mug in the cup holder next to her empty phone holder.
"Thank you," Mary murmured, catching a glimpse of the colorful afghan out of the corner of her eye before he was gone. Several more minutes passed with sounds coming from the back. It was long enough that Mary began to think he'd sat down at the table to eat, but then he suddenly appeared next to her and settled in the passenger seat. Bailey followed and immediately settled in her usual spot between the two seats. It was only then that Mary realized the dog had abandoned her in favor of their guest. She didn't know whether to be insulted, or be glad Bailey approved of the man. Bailey didn't like many people. If Bailey thought Dante was okay, then Mary's own judgment was being supported. It was nice to have that backup.
"I made you a sandwich too," Dante announced, and then glanced from her to the road and asked, "Do you want me to feed you?"
Mary's eyes widened at the offer, but she quickly shook her head, shaking away the images that question brought to mind: Dante kneeling on the floor beside her, holding a sandwich in front of her mouth for her to bite from. Good Lord, how could that seem erotic? she wondered with dismay.
"No. I can manage," she said and then paused to clear her throat when she heard how croaky she sounded. Good Lord.
Dante set a plate with a sandwich and chips on the dashboard next to the GPS, then settled in his own seat properly and set his own plate on his lap as he did up his seat belt.
Mary chanced a glance at her plate, her eyes widening incredulously at the size of the sandwich. Dear God, the man had stacked it so full of meat and vegetables that she'd have to have an expanding jaw like a snake to eat the darned thing. She switched her gaze to him to say as much, only to pause and stare wide-eyed at the four sandwiches he'd made himself, all even bigger than her own. Dante had one hell of an appetite.
"Eyes on the road," he said and Mary automatically turned forward, but had to wonder how he'd known she was looking. Dante had been concentrating on his plate as he lifted one of the sandwiches to his mouth and couldn't have seen her looking.
Leaving the sandwich for now, she picked up her coffee instead and took a cautious sip. As expected, it was hot, but it was also darned good and exactly what she needed just then.
"Why are you traveling alone?"
Mary glanced to him with surprise, but quickly turned her gaze back to the road. She was slow to answer the question, however, and after a moment, asked, "What do you mean?"
"Most women would not travel alone in an RV, yet you are," he pointed out and then asked simply, "Why?"
Mary sighed and set her coffee back in its holder, before saying dryly, "Good question. That's one I've asked myself several times this trip."
"I do not understand," Dante said and she could hear the frown in his voice.
Grimacing, she switched mental gears and pointed out, "I'm not completely alone. I have Bailey. Besides, there are lots of women who travel alone in their RVs."
Mary wasn't sure if that was true, but she'd met one or two women traveling alone on this trip and had been assured that there were many more than you'd expect. Personally, Mary wasn't sure that was true. She didn't see the attraction herself. This trip had been terribly depressing for her and had pretty much convinced her that she should sell the RV when she got home. But perhaps that was just because of the memories it stirred to life in her. She had found herself constantly reminded of past trips with her dear departed husband during this outing, and missing him horribly. She'd even left early because of it, heading home a week earlier than planned just to bring it to an end.
"How long have you been doing this?" Dante asked curiously.
Mary was silent for a minute and then said, "My husband and I have been driving south for the winter ever since he retired six years ago." She frowned and added, "Well, I guess we both retired then. At least I stopped seeing clients. Although I still sit on several boards that I am involved with. I attend the meetings when home and skype with members while travelling."
"You are married?"
Startled by the strangled tone to his voice, Mary glanced to Dante with surprise. The horror on his face made her eyebrows rise slightly, but she shifted her attention back to the road and said quietly, "I was. I am widowed now. Joe had a major heart attack and died on our return journey last year." Hearing the beginning of huskiness in her voice, she cleared her throat, before adding, "This was my first trip alone. And my last," she added dryly.
Silence stretched out between them briefly and then Dante murmured a quiet, "My sympathies for your loss."
Mary nodded stiffly, suddenly having to battle back tears. She'd managed to get the information out without losing it, but he offered her his sympathies and she was hard put not to cry like a baby. Damn, this grief business was a tricky bitch, sneaking up on her at the most inopportune times.
Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, Mary quickly dashed the back of one wrist over her eyes to remove the few tears that had escaped. Apparently her upset didn't escape Dante, because he suddenly murmured, "Perhaps I should take over driving."
"No!" Mary barked, her mind filling with a sudden image of his sitting in her lap with nothing but the ridiculous afghan covering, or not covering, his bits while she tried to slip out from under him. Good God! Trying for a calmer tone of voice, she said, "No, but thank you. I'll be fine."
Dante was silent for a minute, and then murmured, "If you are sure . . . ?"
"I'm sure," she said solemnly, and then changed the subject, asking, "How did you end up working for the Feds?"
"The Feds?" Dante queried uncertainly.
Mary glanced to him with surprise, but then turned her gaze back to the road and said, "I assumed since this was a kidnapping case, that the task force you were helping out was federal. Isn't it?"
"Oh, yes, I see," he murmured and then cleared his throat and said, "My brother and I volunteered."
"Really?" she asked with surprise. "So you aren't a fed yourself?"
"No," he murmured.
"What do you do then?" she asked curiously.
Dante hesitated and then shrugged. "Some protection work, some other things. Whatever is needed."
"I see," she said slowly, and thought the translation of that was probably that he was mostly unemployed. There seemed to be a lot of that today. When she'd been young, most people had graduated from high school to go on to further education, work, or sometimes--for the girls like her--marriage. There had been perhaps a handful of kids who hadn't graduated and had fallen by the wayside, but for the most part they were the exception to the rule. Nowadays, it seemed like there were a lot more exceptions to the rule. More of the young seemed to be not settling into work or a career, but wandering through life, mostly unemployed and unsettled, couch surfing their way through life.
Mary grimaced to herself and acknowledged that she was sounding like her own grandmother. She couldn't recall how many times the woman had started a rant by saying, "when I was young."
"Tell me about your husband," Dante said suddenly.
Mary glanced around with surprise at the request and then turned forward again. She opened her mouth to say no, and instead found herself saying, "He was a good man."
When she didn't continue, Dante asked, "How did you meet?"
"We were high school sweethearts," she answered solemnly. "My first kiss, my first date, my first everything."
He seemed to consider that and then asked, "Do you ever feel like you missed out? Not getting to date other men or experience--?"
"No," Mary interrupted. She'd been asked the question before. Usually by younger people who seemed horrified that she hadn't kissed and slept with loads
of men before settling down with Joe. "I was very lucky. Some women go their whole life searching for, but never finding their perfect life mate. I was lucky enough to find mine before I was even looking."
"Life mate?" Dante asked and something about his tone of voice made her glance curiously his way.
"Yes," she murmured, noting his odd expression before glancing back to the road. "Mate for life. I could have said husband, I suppose, or dream man, but dream man sounds stupid, and husband just doesn't cover all that Joe was to me." She paused briefly, and then said, "I suppose life partner is the better description. He was my partner in every sense, my best friend, my lover, my husband, my cohort in crime," she ended with a grin.
"Crime?" Dante sounded shocked and she chuckled at his tone of voice.
"Not criminal type crime," she assured him. "We weren't Bonnie and Clyde or anything. I just meant, if there was a prank to be pulled, or a gag joke . . ." She shrugged. "We had the same sense of humor and laughed a lot over the years."
"It sounds . . . perfect," Dante said, and she noted that he sounded less than pleased to say so.
"No," she said solemnly. "Nothing is perfect. Not even my Joe. But after a couple of bumps in the beginning we had a good life."
"What kind of bumps?" Dante asked at once, sounding almost eager.
Mary hesitated, very old, very painful memories welling up inside her, but then she merely shook her head. "It doesn't matter now. No one is perfect, Dante."
They were both silent for a moment. Dante was eating and Mary was shifting her attention between the road and her own sandwich, trying to figure out how the hell she was going to eat it. She hadn't come up with anything by the time Dante finished his sandwiches and headed back to set the plate in the sink. At least, she hoped he put it in the sink. It would go flying at the first turn or stop if he didn't, she thought, and risked a glance over her shoulder. Her attention was caught then as she noted the RV had been cleaned up. There were no more items littering the floor. Everything had been stowed away and all the doors and drawers were now closed once more.