by Debra Cowan
Mace moved to her side and opened the door. "Don't look. Just get in."
"But what are we going to do about him?"
"I'll call the sheriff on the way out of town."
She swallowed and, with a last look at the dead man, got into the car. Mace could've been killed. She could've been killed.
Fear, paralyzing before, now seared her like an electric jolt. Reaction set in, and before Mace had slid into the seat beside her, a chill invaded her bones, settled deep in her belly. She trembled.
Mace started the car, then glanced at her. "Hey, you okay?"
"Yes." But she shook her head. "I'm so sorry. I didn't help you at all. You were out here getting shot at and all I could do was sit like a baby on the floor of that stupid bathroom."
"Devon, stop."
"I told you I'm no good at this. What if something had happened to you?"
"Babe, nothing did."
Her bruised heart ached. She wished she could belong to him again, that he could take her in his lap and reassure her just as he had after Dad had died. Just as he had tried to do when she had broken their engagement last year.
"Look at me, Devon," he commanded softly. She did, hungrily soaking in the details of him—the whisker stubble made darker by the shadows of the night, the soft gleam of his eyes, the strength of his hands on the wheel.
"I'm okay. So are you," he said in a calm voice. "Take a deep breath."
She did as he instructed, feeling boneless and confused and cold.
"Another one."
She latched on to his authoritative tone, focusing on the determination in his eyes, the confidence. He'd lived through this before. And now so had she.
Her trembling subsided, though she was still chilled.
"How do you do that? You're so calm."
"Not really, but I've done it before. You're doing great." He started the car.
She gave a bark of laughter. "Right."
"Devon, you handled it. And you handled it quite well." She couldn't mistake the pride in his voice, and her eyes widened as she stared at him.
"You think I did well at this?"
"You did."
His simple words ignited a brief warmth inside her and spurred the thought she'd refused to allow herself again. She loved him. Always had. Always would.
Her gaze lifted to his, and in the blue depths she read the same need for reassurance, the same want, the tender, banked embers of love.
Her heart ached for him, and as if she'd called him to her, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on her lips.
Tears stung her eyes and she looked up at him, her body, her heart clamoring for more of him. His eyes clouded with doubt, with uncertainty, layers of want mixed with denial. He wanted her, too. But when he touched her it was only to thumb away a lone tear that tracked down her cheek.
"See? You're alive. And so am I."
She exhaled a deep breath. "Thank you. For saving my life."
He gave a crooked smile and her heart tugged. "Hey, it's my job."
Thank goodness, she thought for the first time. They drove out of the parking lot, and Devon reached deep inside herself for the store of strength that she was coming to believe she had.
She sat with her hands folded quietly in her lap until she thought she might cry from sheer nerves and the danger of their escape. Without speaking, she reached across and took his hand.
He stiffened as if he might pull away, then his fingers, warm and callused, laced with hers. They rode in silence to the lake.
* * *
Chapter 11
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A chill burrowed under her skin. The sound of gunshots still cracked in her ears as she relived the mind-numbing fear that she would emerge from the motel rest room to discover Mace dead. "How did they find us? I don't understand."
"I'm working on that," Mace said as they sped down the highway. "There's got to be a connection somewhere,"
They were headed back toward Arbuckle Lake. Mace released her hand and tugged his gun from his shoulder holster, placing it on the floor by his feet.
Some of his warmth had transferred to her, but the fear still sent chilly fingers skittering along her nerves. Restlessness churned through her; she could barely sit still, but if she thought about what had just happened, she'd start shaking and be unable to stop.
Mace tapped one long finger on the steering wheel. How had they been discovered? The only possible link between the two times they'd been found was the phone calls. But they hadn't been placed to the same place or the same locale. "It's got to be those calls."
"I said I was sorry about that," Devon snapped, her nerves still raw from the incident at the motel.
"Hey, I'm not blaming you." He glanced at her, a frown puckering his brow. "I'm just trying to find a connection."
But he wasn't getting one. Marilee and O'Kelly were the only contacts they'd made today. The previous phone call had been placed to Devon's boyfriend…
Mace had to tell O'Kelly about what had just happened at the motel, anyway. Maybe his partner could help shed some light on the mystery. Mace picked up the cell phone from the console and flipped it open.
Devon touched his arm, concern edging through her. "Do you think Mom's okay?"
"Yes, but we can check on that… O'Kelly, it's me. We're out, but it didn't go like we planned. We were found somehow."
Devon listened with growing dread as Mace recounted the incident at the motel. She didn't want to consider that her mother might be in danger, but how else could she and Mace have been discovered?
"I don't know if Devon's phone call to her mom was a tip-off or not, but I'd feel better if you'd get her out of the house, find someplace safe for her to stay."
"Oh, Mace, don't scare her," Devon said.
"I'm afraid there might be a phone tap on her line."
She froze. A phone tap? Someone might have put a tap on her mother's phone? Fear clotted her throat.
"All right, thanks. Oh, one more thing. There's a body in the parking lot of the No-Tell Motel off I-35." He gave O'Kelly the specific location. "Can you take care of it?"
Mace flashed Devon a pained smile, holding the phone away from his ear. Even she could hear O'Kelly's voice, and she imagined he was expressing his opinion about the body Mace had left.
"Well, whoever wants to talk to me about it will have to take a number and wait in line. Thanks."
He hung up the phone and returned it to the console. "Your mom will be all right. O'Kelly will make sure."
"Thanks. Gosh, a phone tap. I hadn't even thought about that."
"We're going to check your phone, too."
Startled, she looked at him. The reality of the situation was unfolding in more and more grim horror by the minute.
Had she and Mom been in possible danger for longer than they'd even known about?
She stared out the window at the passing landscape as they approached the Davis exit. Sheer bluffs, polished naked by winds of the Oklahoma plains, passed in a gray-white blur. Trees and sky merged. Dark specks beyond the wheatfields were cattle, but Devon hardly registered the fact.
She and Mace could easily have been killed back there. Now there was a possibility that Mom was in danger. Apprehension iced Devon's spine. She crossed her arms and sat silently in the car as the chill settled deeper, eventually leaving her body in blessed numbness.
* * *
Devon looked around Micki's cabin cruiser and wondered why they hadn't thought of using the big boat before. "They'll never find us out here."
"Well, the chances are better."
Mace had gotten gas at a small convenience store in town and bought a few groceries. Despite the comforting numbness of her body, Devon's senses were surprisingly sharp and alert.
The smell of gasoline trailed in their wake. The stream of wind against her face, pleasantly cool, seemed to sting. They drove a few miles out onto the lake, then anchored in a quiet cove several hundred yards from the shore.
&nb
sp; After sandwiches and soup, she'd made up the lone, full-size bed in the cabin while Mace cleaned the small galley kitchen.
Some of Devon's fear had subsided, but not the chill inside. She doubted if she'd ever be warm again. Frustration and shock and disbelief still stirred within her.
She wanted to calmly carry on as Mace was doing, but she was jumpy, jittery, restless. She felt hollow and hot all at the same time. Alive yet disembodied.
It was after midnight when Mace suggested they get some sleep.
She stared over his shoulder at the gleam of the galley light on the small stove. "I don't think I can."
"I'll stay beside you the whole time." At her startled look, he added, "In the chair."
He pulled over a straight-backed chair and plopped down.
"Well…" Not bothering to get undressed, she simply brushed her teeth and crawled between the cool sheets. Mace settled into the chair, and Devon felt a pang of guilt that he would have to sleep in a chair for a second night.
His gaze caught hers. "We're okay, Dev. Everything's going to be fine."
She nodded, determined not to tell him that she was terrified she'd have the nightmare. Easing down onto the bed, she lay facing Mace, one hand pillowing her cheek.
His gaze stayed steady on hers, but she couldn't relax enough to close her eyes. She kept hearing the repeat of the gunshots, kept seeing the body of the man in the parking lot, kept feeling the nauseating dread that Mace might have been killed. Her body throbbed, stinging as if electricity skidded across her skin.
"Here." Mace held out his hand, offering the presence and comfort of another human being. "Touch me. I'm okay. So are you."
She ran her fingers across his callused, warm palm, then grasped his hand fully with her own. Despite the security of being with Mace, she still felt the hollowness in her stomach, the chill eating away at her.
Ashamed that Mace felt he had to baby her, she tried to withdraw her hand. "You don't have to do that," she said stiffly. "I'm fine."
"Well, I'm not. I need to know that you're all right. We've both had a pretty rough night."
His words soothed her, encouraged her to share her feelings with him. She studied his eyes, trying to tell if he was coddling her or if he did truly need the same reassurance that she did. The knowledge that he'd been through this before encouraged her to let him help her. "I feel strange, Mace."
"How so?" He leaned forward, his hand still warm in hers.
"Jittery, but calm. Hot, like I touched a live wire, but empty, so empty. I keep hearing those shots, wondering if you're okay, if you're … dead."
"I'm okay, Dev." He squeezed her hand. "See? And so are you."
Finally she relaxed into the mattress. He squeezed her hand again and settled back in the chair, not letting go.
Even though she was exhausted by fear and shock Devon didn't want to sleep. Eyes open, her hand wrapped warmly in Mace's, she could keep the nightmare at bay. It lurked at the edge of her mind, however, waiting for her.
But she was emotionally drained by their ordeal tonight and she finally felt herself drifting off. She tried to fight it with her flagging energy. She couldn't bear having the nightmare, not tonight.
She focused on Mace as he slept. His free hand rested on his taut belly and he was sprawled in the chair, legs spread apart, her hand cradled in his and resting on one thigh. Warmth flickered somewhere deep inside her.
Alone on the boat with him, away from the gunfire, she almost believed she was strong, that she could be what he needed. She almost believed that she'd earned his praise.
* * *
Something was wrong. The feeling jolted Mace into awareness. For a moment he was disoriented, then he registered the gentle sway of the boat, the lullaby of water lapping against the fiberglass.
His gaze settled on the bed. Devon was gone.
His heartbeat slammed against his ribs. He pushed himself out of the chair, fighting panic even though he knew she had to be somewhere on the boat.
Automatically he picked up his Glock and crept up the stairs to the deck. Moonlight splashed across the wooden floor. She stood against the side of the boat, the midnight wind lifting and teasing strands of her short dark hair.
He laid the gun on a stair rung below him, his gaze tracking over her. Her T-shirt and shorts hung loosely on her body, but the occasional breeze molded her shirt to her high breasts, her taut waist, slender back. His gaze traveled hungrily over her, reassuring himself that she was all right, that she was here with him.
He visually tracked the length of her trim, toned legs and her tight butt. And as he constantly did of late, he battened down the hunger that roared to life inside him.
She wasn't crying, but her eyes were closed, her head slightly bowed. She gripped the side of the boat with hands that looked as pale as bleached flour.
With what had happened the last few days, she had to be frightened. Had to be terrified at the risk to their lives tonight. She'd handled it well, but when he'd wakened to find her gone, he was reminded of last night in the motel, when she'd bolted out of bed.
All their talk of guns, the close call they'd had tonight and her handling of Mace's weapon had probably triggered a nightmare. That had to be it. He didn't know how he knew, but he didn't question it.
He wanted to comfort her, but he recognized the danger of that. After such a close call today, he wanted to celebrate life with her in the most intimate way possible and he wasn't about to lay that on her.
He'd been through close calls before and recognized this craving for closeness for what it was, but Devon might not. She had enough to deal with simply by what she'd witnessed tonight.
She turned then and saw him standing at the top of the stairs leading from the cabin. Moonlight gilded her pale skin and turned it to velvet cream. Shadows sharpened her cheekbones, yet softened her jaw and her lips. Her eyes were haunted and tortured.
Mace ached inside, but he stood where he was, knowing he shouldn't get close to her right now.
She laced her hands together and glanced down as if bracing herself. Her voice was rusty, vibrating with pain and fear. "I had the nightmare."
The nightmare. The one about her dad. He waited, clenching and unclenching his fist against the urge to go to her.
"I saw Dad on the floor, blood everywhere—" Her voice broke and she looked up at Mace, her features totally bereft. Tears glistened in her eyes.
To hell with distance. In two strides, he reached her and opened his arms. She walked into them, burying her face against his chest and locking her arms tightly around him as if she'd never let go.
"I had the dream at the motel, too," she said in a muffled voice against his chest.
"I wondered." He rocked her, wishing fiercely that he could erase the memories for her. Or ease them somehow.
She lifted her head, her eyes so lost that his heart turned over. "Will they ever go away?"
"Yes."
Relief sketched her features and Mace's heart turned over. An ache arrowed through him.
"I wanted to be strong." Her breath burned his skin through his T-shirt. "Like you."
"You were."
"I hid in the bathroom like a coward."
"No." Mace tilted up her chin, forced her gaze to lock with his. "Taking cover was smart. You're not trained the way I am, Dev. You did the right thing."
"You could've been killed, while I did nothing," she said bitterly, her arms tightening around him.
"You could've been killed the other day in that wreck while I did nothing."
She stared at him, denial, then acceptance passing through her eyes. She sighed. "It's an awful feeling, isn't it?"
"The worst." He tightened his arms around her, rocking her against him. He wouldn't have let her go for anything, but having her pressed so tightly against him was slowly unraveling his self-control.
Her breasts, small and pert against his chest, burned into him. He could feel her taut nipples, and his blood hummed. Her hair bru
shed his nostrils, teasing him with honeysuckle. Heat from her body seeped into his and his muscles coiled with tension. He was as hard as the barrel of his .357.
Soon she would become aware of his arousal and withdraw, but for now he was free to hold her.
After a long moment, she relaxed in his arms and looked up at him. "Can we stay out here awhile?"
"Sure."
She moved out of his arms, and he fought down a biting sense of loss and frustration. He eased down to the floor of the boat and rested against the wall of the cabin.
He expected her to sit across from him, maybe beside him, but to his surprise, she sank gracefully between his legs and looked over her shoulder questioningly.
Even knowing he was opening himself up to a torturous kind of pleasure, Mace widened his legs and pulled her back against him.
He locked his arms around her and rested his chin on her head, creating a cocoon of warmth. The waves rocked them gently, the swaying motion causing Devon's bottom to slide against his arousal, tantalizingly swift each time, but painfully delicious. Memories nudged at him with the same gentle insistent pressure, but he blanked them out.
He was a fool, but he wasn't about to let go of her. Not now, even though he couldn't do what his body ached for him to do.
He wouldn't run his hands up her rib cage and cup her breasts. He wouldn't press a kiss to that spot behind her ear. He wouldn't slip his hands down her thighs and between them to the moist heat he knew he'd find there. He wouldn't touch her other than to keep his arms around her.
Even if he held her all night.
Even if it killed him.
Devon sat in the circle of Mace's arms and the old tension seeped out of her. A new tension crept in. She could feel every line of his hard body, the tempered steel of his chest against her back, the insistent heat of his arousal against her bottom. Reassurance, a sense of belonging—she felt those things, but as always when she was with Mace, she mostly felt safe.
She latched on to the feelings with a desperation born of necessity.
As always, her body responded to his, going warm and liquid. She wanted to move against him, wanted to see his eyes darken with passion for her. She'd never wanted this with Josh, never even wanted to get naked with him. Nor had she ever felt this certainty about Josh that she felt about Mace.