Men Made in America Mega-Bundle

by Gayle Wilson, Marie Ferrarella, Jennifer Greene, Annette Broadrick, Judith Arnold, Rita Herron, Anne Stuart, Diana Palmer, Elizabeth Bevarly, Patricia Rosemoor, Emilie Richards

  BY NINE BECKI couldn’t hold her eyes open any longer. The clothes were still in the dryer, but she decided to leave them. She didn’t turn out the small light over the sink that had been on when she’d entered the kitchen this afternoon, but she checked to make sure all the outside doors were locked. She had locked the garage door and retrieved the gun from the car before nightfall. That Deke had left it there was, she knew, an indication of the seriousness of his condition.

  She entered the dark bedroom, and putting the gun and the aspirin on the table beside the bed, she turned on the small bedside lamp.

  “Deke,” she said. There was no response. She put the back of her hand against his forehead and felt the dry heat. The fever was only what she had expected, but she had nothing to fight the infection. She had spent a good deal of time after her solitary supper searching the rest of the house, looking for anything she could give him. She had finally decided this family obeyed the rules, either finishing prescriptions or throwing out the leftovers. It fit with the perfect order of the rest of the house, but given their situation, it was frustrating as hell.

  “Deke,” she said again. The glazed eyes opened in response, but she wasn’t sure he recognized her. “You need to take a couple more of these,” she said. “Sit up.”

  He pushed up, resting on his left elbow, just far enough to down the aspirin with a swallow of water from the straw she held against his lips. As soon as the pills were down, he almost fell back against the supporting pillows. She had thought about asking him if there was anything else she should do, but decided against trying to talk to him. She had done everything she could think of. Let him rest.

  She turned off the lamp and waited for her eyes to adjust. She had planned to go up to one of the bedrooms on the second floor, but as she stood in the darkness she knew that she didn’t really want to be up there, not even with the protection of the gun. She hated to leave Deke alone down here. It was possible that he might need something during the night. Help to the bathroom, if nothing else.

  She wondered how much of that was rationalizing what she really wanted to do, and then she thought again, as she had in the woods today, how foolish it was to spend time worrying about what someone else might think if they knew. She only wanted to crawl into the warmth on the other side of this big bed. Despite Deke’s condition, she knew she’d feel far safer down here with him than upstairs alone.

  Finally, giving in to temptation, she walked around the bed, pulled back the sheet and climbed in. She lay very still, but her movements didn’t seem to have disturbed the man beside her. His breathing was again reassuringly steady in the darkness. Becoming familiar. It was her final thought before her eyes drifted closed, her tired mind slipping effortlessly into the comfort of sleep.

  Chapter Nine

  Sunlight was streaming into the bedroom, but Becki knew it hadn’t been the sun that had awakened her. She closed her eyes again, lying very still, too comfortable to think about moving, about getting up.

  There was something in the back of her mind, however, that was disturbing. Fighting the pleasant morning lethargy, she reopened her eyes. From the angle of the light, the windows were in the wrong place. Unfamiliar wallpaper covered the walls and the ceiling fan was different. She tried to think why she wasn’t in her bedroom, and suddenly realization flooded back.

  Her left cheek was resting against Deke Summers’s spine, her body spooned tightly along the length of his. Her right arm was across his side, fingers limp against the mat of hair that covered his chest. Still relaxed by the warm intimacy of that position, she let her hand smooth downward, a small, caressing journey over the flatness of his stomach, and slowly up again. She turned her head slightly, so she could put her lips against the uniform column of vertebrae that centered his back. It was only then that she knew what had awakened her. Heat. Deke was so hot, his skin burning beneath the cool touch of her lips.

  She had known this was inevitable, despite all the precautions she had taken yesterday. Along with the buckshot, she had picked bits of fabric from the holes in Deke’s back, and the peroxide had boiled out more. But even then she had known she had not gotten out all the dirt and debris that had been introduced into the wounds.

  She eased away from his body, examining what she could see of his back and shoulder around the edges of the bandaging. Far more swollen than last night, more discolored. Not better, but worse. Much worse.

  “Deke,” she whispered, leaning forward to put her mouth next to his ear. She was careful not to press against the damaged shoulder, although her arm was still lying across his body. “Deke,” she said again, this time without much hope that he would respond.

  When he did, it wasn’t with words. His big hand closed over hers, flattening her palm on his chest, holding it there.

  “How do you feel?” she asked, her lips moving against his neck, infinitely reassured by his simple response. She trailed her hand downward again, this time carrying his on top of it, enjoying under her palm the texture of his skin, the narrow band of hair that led into the waistband of the borrowed briefs.

  “You don’t want to know,” he said simply.

  Conscious of his unthinking gesture, Deke released the small fingers he’d captured. He could feel her body pressed along the length of his, fitted against him as if she had been made for him, to sleep beside him. As if she belonged there.

  “More aspirin?” Becki asked, wishing there was something else she could give him.

  “Yeah,” he agreed, but he knew how little that was going to help the pain that would be inevitable when he moved. Moving was something he was in no hurry to do. For more than one reason.

  He felt her ease away from him, the coolness of the surrounding air touching his overheated skin as soon as she removed the warm softness of hers. So cold, he thought, shivering in reaction to the air conditioner’s efficiency. Becki pulled the sheet up over his shoulders, but that was not an acceptable replacement for the too-pleasant warmth of her body.

  Deke closed his eyes because the light hurt them. They were burning, aching, just as the rest of his body ached. And he hadn’t even tried to move his shoulder. He had enough experience to know that was going to hurt like hell, despite the aspirin she kept poking down him. Take two aspirin and call me in the morning. He wished he knew someone he could call. Someone who could get them out of this. Get Josh. He had to hold on to that thought—no matter what.

  He knew Becki couldn’t understand the urgency of finding her son. He was the one who knew the ruthlessness of the bastards who wanted him dead. And this time, he acknowledged, trying to find the strength to sit up and take the caplets she was holding out to him, this time they might finally get what they wanted.

  “Can I help?” Becki said softly. The blue eyes lifted in response, bloodshot and fever bright.

  Deke managed a small negative movement of his head. He closed his eyes again, trying to find the courage to sit up, dreading what was coming.

  He tried to push up on his left elbow as he had the previous night—some night. The pain sliced through his control like a blowtorch. That was exactly what it felt like. As if his shoulder were on fire. He groaned aloud against its force, but at least he was up. Unsteady, body trembling, but erect enough to swallow the aspirin. The water.

  “Maybe that will help,” she said hopefully as he eased carefully back onto the pillows.

  He didn’t answer, couldn’t find any words. He was waiting for the pain to recede, to fade again to some level that was manageable.

  When he finally reopened his eyes she was still there, kneeling beside the bed, eyes, full of worry, fastened on his face. He knew that what she was seeing wouldn’t be very reassuring. If he looked only half as bad as he felt…

  “We have to stay put,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “If anything happens…” he paused, hating to admit defeat. Hating, after all this time, to give in and let them win. But he knew, given his condition, that he had to make he
r understand.

  “Get out,” he ordered. “Just get out. They’ll let you go. It’s me they want.”

  There was no reaction in the dark eyes.

  “Do you understand?” he asked, the question harsh with his need to be reassured that she did, that she would do what he’d told her.

  “I understand,” she said.

  He tried to search her eyes, to read the truth in them. Tried to decide if she had agreed only because she thought that was what he wanted to hear. To pacify him.

  “For Josh,” he said, still holding her eyes. “Promise me. For Josh. No more, Becki. No more…”

  Broken and bloodied bodies. No more deaths. No one else dying in my place.

  He didn’t complete the thought. His eyes closed against the pain and the fever. He had told her, and he thought she’d agreed. Maybe, if they were lucky, they had bought a few days of safety by finding this house. A few days to recover, to get his strength back. Maybe…

  DEKE’S FEVER BUILT during the day, despite the aspirin. Becki found a first-aid book, and trying to fight the swelling, she applied cold compresses. By afternoon, Deke was sleeping most of the time, and Becki knew he was not totally aware of what was going on. She sat beside him and listened to his incoherent ramblings as he slept, listened to him endure again the horrors he had told her about. And because he had told her, she understood most of it—the muttered phrases, the fever-induced nightmare images.

  By late afternoon she knew she had to do something. The fever was still climbing, his skin on fire and his lips cracked with its heat. She had made him drink water throughout the day, hating to wake him, but knowing that the danger of dehydration was very real.

  Something to fight the fever, she thought. She had to get her hands on some antibiotics. She wondered briefly if she could talk the local druggist into giving her the medication. That might have been possible at home, where she was known, but in a strange town? Unconsciously, she shook her head, knowing that idea would never work.

  She needed a prescription, and even as she thought the word, she remembered. The last prescription for antibiotics she’d been given had been written more than three years ago, written by Nita Fisher’s husband—for an abscessed tooth. Dentists could write prescriptions as well as doctors. But could they call a prescription to another state? She wasn’t sure of that, but she was sure of Nita’s friendship. And sure she could be trusted.

  She left the bedroom, closing the door carefully behind her, although she thought that Deke was sleeping again. She didn’t want him to overhear the call she was about to make because she knew he would never allow it. He would think it was too dangerous to give anyone information about where they were. Deke trusted no one, but she had no choice now but to trust.

  There were only two pharmacies listed in the yellow pages of the thin phone book. She left the directory open on the counter and picked up the kitchen phone. She dialed the area code and the familiar number.

  “’Lo,” Nita said. Becki could hear the customary noises of kids and television in the background.

  “Nita,” she said, trying to decide how much she could explain. “It’s me.”

  “Bec? I thought you were at the beach. Surely you’re not back already. Not much of a vacation, girl.”

  “No, I’m…I’m not at home.”

  “What’s wrong?” Nita asked immediately. Like Mary, she recognized that a long-distance phone call usually meant trouble.

  “I need a favor,” Becki said.

  “From me? Shoot.”

  “From Warren really, but since you sleep with the man…” Becki suggested, trying to duplicate the familiar teasing that had always been part of their relationship.

  “Warren?” Nita repeated, her voice filled with disbelief. “What in the world do you need from Warren?”

  “A prescription for an antibiotic.”

  There was a brief silence. She could imagine Nita sorting through all the possibilities and rejecting those that didn’t fit with their years of friendship. And of course, she could never imagine the truth. Becki held her breath, hoping for no more questions.

  “For you?” Nita asked finally.

  “No.”

  “But your mom told me Josh had gone with Mike and Bill.” There was another silence as Nita waited for her explanation. When Becki offered none, Nita said, “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “Not really. I just want you to get Warren to call me in a prescription. I’ll give you the pharmacy’s name and number. It’s out of state. Can he do that?”

  “Out of state?” Nita repeated. “Florida?”

  “Arkansas. Can he do that? Call a prescription out of state.”

  “Arkansas? The last time I looked, Bec, Arkansas didn’t have a beach.”

  “Will you do it?” Becki asked, ignoring the geography lesson, the automatic best-friend sarcasm. “Please, Nita. I can’t tell you anything else, except it’s important. You know I’d never ask unless—”

  “Penicillin?” Nita interrupted.

  She thought about that. So many people had reactions, which in this case…

  “I don’t know,” Becki admitted. “Maybe…maybe something else. Something that’s safe for anyone to take. And powerful.”

  “For an adult?”

  “Yes,” Becki acknowledged, finally knowing that this was going to work, that Nita was going to do it.

  “Are you in trouble?”

  “Yeah, but I can’t tell you anything about it. Just do this, make Warren call, and I’ll explain when I can. You know—”

  “Okay,” Nita broke in again. “You don’t have to say anything else. Give me the name and number of the pharmacy. Warren’s still at the office. It’ll take me maybe half an hour to get everything done. Call me back.”

  “I’ll try,” Becki hedged, and gave her the information.

  “Don’t you let anything happen to you, Bec,” Nita warned, after she’d taken down the name of the drugstore and the phone number. “Whatever the hell’s going on, you take care of yourself. Are you sure I can’t call some—”

  “Don’t tell anybody I called. That’s the one thing you can’t do. Make sure Warren understands that. Don’t tell anyone about this. Promise me, Nita. It’s so important.”

  Again she waited, hoping the bond between them was as strong as she believed. Strong enough to accomplish what she’d asked.

  “I don’t like this,” Nita objected softly.

  “Me either. Believe me. Promise me you’ll do it.”

  “Yeah, okay, but you better let me know you’re all right. As soon as you can. You understand me?”

  “I will. I promise. Half an hour?”

  “No more. I’ll call right now.”

  “Thanks, Nita. I owe you.”

  “Big time, sweetie. Big time.”

  Becki smiled as she hung up the phone, somehow reassured by the brief contact with the world she had once inhabited. It was all still there: family and friends, safety. Just waiting for their return. For hers and Josh’s return. And Deke? some part of her mind reminded. What would happen to Deke?

  Like some exotic endangered species, Deke Summers would never fit into the peaceful world they had been driven out of less than a week ago. No matter what her subconscious kept imagining, her conscious mind had always known that whatever part of his existence she would be allowed to share was only the here and now.

  AS THE MINUTES of Nita’s half hour dragged by, Becki debated the wisdom of taking Deke, as sick as he was, with her to the drugstore. But the alternative was even more frightening. If somehow her call had given away their location, if it could somehow be tracked back to this house…

  She didn’t believe that Nita would betray her, but Deke’s lack of trust was rubbing off. She couldn’t stand the thought of leaving him here alone, unable to protect himself. Or the thought that someone might be waiting for her at the pharmacy, waiting for her to lead them back to him. It seemed a better idea to load Deke in the car, p
ick up the prescription and then drive away. Get out of this town. She could find another house or get a motel room. Deke still had money. She had verified that when she’d emptied his pockets to wash the jeans.

  She hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to get him into some clothes—back into his own jeans and boots and then a borrowed button-up shirt from the closet. She helped him put his good arm through the left sleeve and then draped the other side over the injured shoulder. He never complained, never questioned her explanation that they had to move. Deke Summers was not a man who easily relinquished control. That he was letting her take charge was almost as frightening as the climbing fever and his obvious reluctance to move.

  SHE LEFT DEKE, eyes closed and head against the headrest, in the locked car while she went inside to pick up the prescription. She had parked in the lot at the side, away from the lights that cast pools of illumination along the sidewalk fronting the old-fashioned drugstore. She looked back at the sedan, reassured by how well hidden it was in the shadows between the two buildings, and then she walked toward the door of the pharmacy, keeping close to its wall and away from those revealing circles of light.

  Once inside, in the brightness of the fluorescents, she wondered why she had bothered. If anyone was looking for her, they would have little trouble recognizing the woman walking to the back of the store where the pharmacist was talking to a customer. She was still wearing the clothes Deke had bought at the Wal-Mart back home. She hadn’t wanted to take anything else from the people whose house they’d invaded, but now she realized that missing the opportunity to change her clothing had been foolish.

  Not as foolish, however, as not remembering to give Nita a fake name to leave the prescription under. That thought surfaced only when the druggist turned, smiling, to question her.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, “What can I do for you?”

  “I had a prescription called in. Becki Travers?”