Books by Nora Roberts

by Roberts, Nora

  "Erin?" There was no answer, no sound. What if he was too late? Burke turned the crowbar in his hands, wiping sweat on metal. "Erin, it's all right. I've come to take you out of here." He cursed the lack of light and dropped to his hands and knees. He saw her then, curled in a corner in the rear.

  He was with her in an instant, but he was almost afraid to touch her. His hand went to her cheek first. So cold, so still. "Erin." In a fit of rage, he tore the gag away. When her eyes fluttered open, he nearly wept with relief. "Erin, it's all right."

  But when he reached for her she cringed, making small sounds in her throat.

  "It's all right," he murmured. "I'm not going to let anyone hurt you. It's Burke, darling, it's okay now."

  "Burke." Her eyes were still glazed with shock, but she said his name.

  "That's right, and I'm going to take you out of here." He shifted her, cursing under his breath each time she whimpered. Her trembles became shudders that none of his soothing words could halt.

  He found the ropes, but when he started to loosen them she cried out. "I'm sorry. I have to get them off. I don't want to hurt you. Can you stay very still?"

  She simply turned her face to the wall.

  The van shook as men entered, and she pressed back in the corner. "I need a knife." He looked up and saw Lieutenant Hallinger. "Give me a damn knife, then get out. She's terrified."

  Hallinger reached in his pocket with one hand and signaled his men back with the other.

  "Just hold on, Irish, it's all over now." He hurt her. He could feel each jerk and tremble inside his own body as he cut through the bonds. Both his skin and hers were damp before he had freed her feet as well. "I'm going to pick you up and carry you out. Just stay still."

  "My arms." She bit her lip, as even the gentlest touch sent the pain throbbing.

  "I know." As carefully as he could, he lifted her up. She moaned and pressed her face against his shoulder.

  When they stepped outside, the lot was bright with lights. Erin squeezed her burning eyes shut. She couldn't think beyond the pain and fear, and concentrated on the sound of Burke's voice.

  "You stay the hell away from her," he said very quietly, his eyes on Hallinger.

  "I called an ambulance." Travis stepped between Burke and the police. "It's here now. Paddy and I will follow you."

  As if in a dream, Erin felt herself laid down. The light was still too bright, so she kept her eyes closed. There were voices, too many voices, but she focused in on the only one that mattered. She jolted as she felt something cool over the raw skin of her wrist, but Burke stroked her hair and never stopped talking to her.

  He didn't know what he said. Promises, vows, nonsense. But he could see the dried blood on her wrists and ankles and the bruises that ran up her arms. Each time she winced, he thought of Durnam. And how he would kill him.

  "In the stables," she murmured. "I heard them in the stables, talking about drugging the horse."

  "It doesn't matter." Burke kept stroking her hair.

  "In the stables," she repeated in a voice that was thin and tended to float. "I couldn't get away. I tried."

  "You're safe now. Just lie still."

  They wouldn't let him go with her. Erin was wheeled away the moment they reached the hospital, and Burke was left helpless and hurting in the hallway.

  "She's going to be all right." Travis laid a hand on his shoulder.

  Burke nodded. The ambulance attendants had already assured him of that. Her wrists were the worst of her physical injuries. They would heal, just as the bruises would fade. But no one knew how badly she'd been scarred emotionally.

  "Stay with her. There's something I have to do."

  "Burke, you'll do her more good here. And yourself."

  "Just stay with her," he repeated, then strode out through the wide glass doors.

  He kept his mind carefully blank as he drove out to Durnam's farm. The rage was there, but he held it, knowing it would cloud his thinking. So he thought of nothing, and his mind stayed as cool as the early-morning air.

  The thirty-minute drive took him fifteen, but still the police were faster. Burke slammed out of his car in front of Durnam's palatial stone house and faced Hallinger once again.

  "Thought I'd see you here tonight." Hallinger lit one of the five cigarettes he allowed himself—which was five more than his wife knew about. "Figured a sharp man like you would have already put it together that Durnam was the one who had your horse drugged."

  "Yeah, I put that together. Where is he?"

  "He's my guest tonight." Hallinger blew out smoke, then leaned against the hood of Burke's car. If the footbath didn't work, he was going to have to go see the damned podiatrist. "You know, sometimes cops have brains, too. We were here questioning Durnam when the call came in that you were on your way to the track to get your wife."

  "Why?"

  "Well, assuming that your wife's disappearance had something to do with the trouble last week, which was a big assumption, I had to figure out who had the most to gain. That would be Durnam. I take it you'd already worked that out."

  "I had everything but proof."

  "We've got that now, too. The man was already on the edge. Our call coming in was all it took to push him over. He'd cleaned out his bank account, what was left of it. Knew that, did you?"

  "Yeah, I knew that."

  "Had his bags packed. But he wasn't going to miss that race tomorrow. Today," Hallinger corrected with a glance up at the lightening sky. "He wanted that Derby win bad. Funny how people can set their minds on one thing and forget about the consequences. How's your wife?"

  "She's hurt. Where are you keeping him?"

  "That's police business now, Mr. Logan." He examined his cigarette thoughtfully before taking another drag. "I know how you feel."

  Burke cut him off with a look. "You don't know how I feel."

  Hallinger nodded slowly. "You're right. And I doubt you're in the mood for advice, but here it is. You haven't been a Boy Scout, Logan." He smiled, a little sourly, when Burke only continued to stare at him. "I make it my business to check details. You've had a few scrapes in your time. Some bad luck and some good. Right now I'd say you've got yourself a good woman and a chance to make things click. Don't blow it on something as pitiful as Charles Durnam. He lost a hell of a lot more than a horse race. Isn't that enough?"

  "No." Burke pulled open the door of his car, then paused to turn back. "He gets out in a year, in twenty years—he's dead."

  With some regret, Hallinger flipped the butt of his cigarette away. "I'll keep that in mind."

  When Erin awoke, she opened her eyes cautiously. The hospital. The wave of relief came as it did every time she awoke to find herself safe. The light beside her bed was still burning. She'd hated to be weak, but had insisted the nurse leave it on even when the sun was coming up.

  Burke hadn't been there. She'd fretted and asked for him, but they'd wheeled her to a private room and tucked her into bed, promising he'd be with her soon. She was to sleep, to relax, she wasn't to worry.

  But she wanted him.

  Listless, she turned her head. There were already flowers in the room. She imagined Travis or Paddy had seen to that. They'd been so kind.

  But she wanted Burke.

  Shifting in search of comfort, she pushed herself up in bed. And she saw him. He was standing by the window, his back to her. Everything fled but the pleasure of knowing he was there with her.

  "Burke."

  He turned immediately. His first thought was that she was sitting up and her cheeks were no longer pale. His second thought was that if it hadn't been for him she wouldn't be in a hospital bed with bandages on her wrists. Because she was holding out a hand, he went to her and touched it lightly.

  "You're looking better," he said inadequately.

  "I'm feeling better. I didn't know you were here."

  "I've been around awhile. Do you want anything?"

  "I could eat." She smiled and reached for his han
d again, but his was in his pocket.

  "I'll get the nurse."

  "Burke." She stopped him as he reached the door. "It can wait. Look at you, you haven't slept."

  "Busy night."

  She tried another smile. "Aye, it was all of that. I'm sorry."

  His eyes went hard and flat. "Don't. I'll get the nurse."

  Alone, Erin lay back on the pillows. Maybe she was still confused and disoriented. He couldn't really be angry with her. With a half sigh, she closed her eyes. Of course he could. There was no telling with men, and with Burke in particular. Whether it was her fault or not, she'd put him through hell. And now she was tying him to a hospital room on the most important day of his life.

  When the door opened again she made sure her smile was cheerful, and her voice, though her throat still tended to ache, mirrored it. "You should be at the track. I had no idea it was so late. Did anyone think to bring me a change of clothes? I can be ready in ten minutes."

  "You're not going anywhere."

  "You don't expect me to miss my first Derby? I know what the doctor said, but—"

  "Then you'll know you're not getting up from that bed for twenty-four hours. Don't be stupid."

  She opened her mouth, then firmly shut it again. She wouldn't argue with him. She'd been close to death, and that made a person think about how much time was wasted on pettiness. "You're right, of course. I'll just sit here and be pampered while I watch on television." Why didn't he come to her? Why didn't he hold her? Erin kept her lips curved as he turned again to stare out of the window. "You'd better be on your way."

  "Where?"

  "To the track, of course. It's nearly noon. You've already missed the morning."

  "I'm staying here."

  Her heart did a quick flip, but she shook her head. "Don't be silly. You can't miss this. If I'm to be shut up here it's bad enough. At least I can have the pleasure of watching you step into the winner's circle. There's nothing for you to do here."

  He thought of how helpless he'd felt through the night. Of how helpless he felt now. "No, I suppose there isn't."

  "Then off with you," she told him, forcing her voice to be light.

  "Yeah." He rubbed his hands over his face.

  "And I don't want to see you back here until you've had some rest."

  She lifted her face for a kiss, but his lips only brushed over her brow. "See you later."

  "Burke." He was already out of reach. "You're going to win."

  With a nod, he closed the door behind him. He leaned against the wall, almost too exhausted to stand, far too exhausted to think. He didn't give a damn about the Derby or any other race. All he could see, playing over and over in his mind, was Erin curled in the corner of that van, cringing away from him.

  She'd bounced back, smiling and talking as though nothing had happened. But he could still see the white bandages on her wrists.

  He was afraid to touch her, afraid she'd cringe away again. Or, if she didn't, that he'd hurt her. He was afraid to look at her too long because he'd see that glazed shock in her eyes again. He was afraid that if he didn't gather her close, keep her close, that she'd slip away from him, that he would lose her as he'd nearly lost her only hours before.

  But she was urging him to go, telling him she didn't need him beside her. All she needed was a win, a blanket of red roses and a trophy. He'd damn well give them to her.

  She hadn't realized she would be nervous. But even watching the preliminaries, the interviews, the discussions on television, kept her pulse racing. When she saw Burke caught by the cameras as he stepped out of the stables, she laughed and hugged her pillow. Oh, if she could just be there with him, holding on. But he avoided the reporter, leaving Erin disappointed.

  She'd wanted to hear him, to see his face on the screen so that they could laugh about it later.

  Then it was the reporter facing the camera, recounting the story that had unfolded since the Bluegrass Stakes. It pleased her to hear that Burke's name had been cleared absolutely and that Double Bluff was considered the favorite in the Run for the Roses.

  She listened, trying to be dispassionate as he talked about her kidnapping and Durnam's arrest. The groom had been picked up sleeping off a bottle in a stall. Apparently it hadn't taken much encouragement for him to spill the entire story. There were pictures of the van, with its broken door and police barriers, that she had to force herself to look at.

  It almost amused her to be told that she was resting comfortably. Somehow the reporter made it all sound like a grand adventure, something out of a mystery novel—the lady in distress, the villain and the hero. She wrinkled her nose. However much she might consider Burke a hero, she didn't care to think of herself as a lady in distress.

  She let it pass as she watched the horses being spotlighted as they were led from the paddock. There was Double Bluff, as big and as handsome as ever. Double Bluff, the three-year-old from Three Aces. Owners Burke and Erin Logan. She smiled at that. Though of course it was Burke's horse and the news people had made a mistake, it still gave her a good feeling to see her name flash on the screen with Burke's.

  She laughed at herself again because her palms were getting sweaty. The track was just as she'd known it would be, filled to capacity. The camera panned over Dorothy Gainsfield. Erin gave herself the satisfaction of sticking out her tongue.

  Then it focused on Burke, and her heart broke a little. He looked so tired. Worn to the bone. That was why he'd been so distant before. The man was exhausted. When he'd rested and had time to get his bearings, things would be right again.

  "I love you, Burke," she told him, rubbing her cheek against the pillow. "Loving you is what got me through."

  Then the screen flashed back to the horses. It was nearly post time.

  There was the blare of the trumpet and the roar of the crowd. Again Erin found herself tempted to jump out of bed and hurry to the track. If it hadn't been for the baby, she would have ignored the doctor and done just that. Instead she forced herself to be patient.

  "We'll go to our first Derby together," she murmured as she placed a hand on her stomach. "Next year, the three of us will go."

  The bell sounded, and for the next two minutes she didn't take her eyes off the screen. It seemed to her that Double Bluff was running with a vengeance. And perhaps he was. Perhaps Burke had transformed some of his emotions to the horse, for the colt ran like fury.

  When he broke from the pack early, Erin held her breath. It was too soon. She knew the jockey had been instructed to hold him back the first half mile. There was no holding back today. Her first concern evaporated in pure excitement as she watched him run. He was glorious, angry and unstoppable. It was as if the horse himself wanted vindication and perhaps revenge.

  He clung to the rail, taking the turns hard and close. Travis's Apollo held back by a length. The Pentel colt, under a new rider, was coming up fast on the outside. And the crowd was on its feet. Erin was shouting, but was unaware of it even after the nurse came in.

  As he came down the backstretch he poured on more speed, impossibly more, so that even the announcer's voice cracked with excitement. Two lengths, then three, then three and a half. He went under the wire as if he was alone on the oval.

  "He never gave up the lead." Erin brushed her palms over her cheeks to dry them. "Not once."

  "Congratulations, Mrs. Logan. I'd say you've just had some of the best medicine on the market."

  "The very best." But her fingers curled into the sheets as she waited for the official announcement. In her mind she could picture it, the weighing in, the certification. It seemed to take forever, but then the numbers flashed on the board. "The very, very best. There's Burke." She gripped the nurse's hand. "He's worked so hard for this, waited so long. Oh, I wish I could be with him."

  She watched the cameramen and reporters vie for angles as Burke and his trainer grouped in the winner's circle. Why wasn't he smiling? she wondered as she wiped another tear away. She saw him reach up and sh
ake his jockey's hand but couldn't hear whatever it was he said.

  "It's a good day for Three Aces." A reporter stuck a microphone in Burke's face. "This must make up for the disqualification last week, Mr. Logan."

  "It doesn't begin to make up for it." He patted the colt's neck. "I think Double Bluff proved himself a champion here today and proved my trust in his team, but this race was run for my wife." He pulled a rose from the blanket covering his horse. "Excuse me."

  "That was a lovely thing to say," the nurse murmured.

  "Aye." Still, as Erin watched the jockey hold the cup over his head, she wondered why she felt so lost.

  Chapter 12

  They flew home as soon as Erin was released from the hospital, but she didn't feel like celebrating. Everything should have been right. Burke's reputation had been cleared, his prize colt had won the Derby with a track record, and she was safe. So why was it everything was wrong?

  She knew Burke could be aloof, that he could be arrogant and hardheaded. Those were three ridiculous reasons to love a man, but they were reasons none the less. What she hadn't known was that he could be both withdrawn and distant. He never touched her. In fact, as the first few days passed, Erin realized he was going out of his way to avoid any opportunity to touch her. He came to bed late and rose early. He spent a great deal more time out of the house and away than he spent at home.

  She tried to tell herself he was just gearing up for the Preakness—the second jewel of the Triple Crown—but she knew it wasn't true.

  With too much time left to herself to think, she began to remember the words she'd heard on her wedding day. Men are easily charmed, and just as easily bored.

  Was that it? Was he bored with her? Trying to find the answer, she took stock of herself. Her face was the same. Maybe she was a little hollow-eyed, but those things came with worry and restless nights. Her body was still firm, though she knew that would change in a matter of weeks.

  And what then? she wondered. When she told him about the baby, would he turn away completely? No, she couldn't believe that of him. Burke would never turn his back on his own child. But on her? If he was tired of her now, how would he feel when she began to round and swell?