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

  “Yes, ma’am, it’s ready,” he said, turning to sort through a couple of small white sacks before he located hers.

  When she had paid, the medication safely in her possession, she turned to walk out of the store, finally taking a deep breath. Despite her mistake in not thinking up an alias, it seemed that nothing was going to go wrong. Nobody was going to ask questions. She just had to walk out to the car and drive away. She knew that in spite of what Deke had said about their pursuers, she would head west this time, nearer to where she believed they would find Josh.

  She was on the sidewalk, almost to the side of the building where she had left the sedan, before she realized Deke would need something to help wash down the pills. She walked back to the drink machines lined up in front of the drugstore on the far side of the entrance. She inserted the coins, punched a selection and then bent over to retrieve the can as it fell into the slot at the bottom.

  “Mighty fine,” a deep voice drawled behind her. “Yes, sir, that’s mighty fine.”

  Turning, she found a man leaning against the metal pole of one of the streetlights she’d avoided on her way in. He was dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt, the picture of some cowboy-hatted country singer she didn’t recognize on its front. The shirt’s fit was designed to show off his physique, heavy muscles almost certainly created by lifting weights.

  “Weather we’ve been havin’,” he added innocently when she looked at him, and then he smiled at her.

  He wasn’t unattractive, probably a few years younger than she. And what he had said didn’t seem threatening, but her heart had stopped and the hand holding the soda had begun to tremble. She didn’t know why she was surprised. Deke had tried to warn her.

  Hoping she was wrong, she ignored the comment, turning to continue her journey toward the lot at the side of the building where she’d parked the car. She realized then there was a second man, standing almost in the center of the sidewalk, almost but not quite blocking her path. He was much larger than the one who had spoken and not as good-looking. His lank brown hair was too long, starting to recede, and he had the beginnings of a belly.

  She tried to step around him, but he moved to the side, once more directly in front of her. She moved the other way, and again he cut her off.

  “What’s your hurry?” the man behind her asked. “You got a date or somethin’?”

  “Something,” she agreed. “And I’m late.” She raised her eyes challengingly to the man standing in front of her. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, speaking very deliberately.

  Instead of stepping out of her way, he put out his hand, reaching across to rest his fingers on the top of the parking meter at the curb. The outstretched arm was before her face, about eye level. Suddenly she could smell the sour odor of sweat, an unclean body in unclean clothing, and overlying that the sharp reek of alcohol.

  She jumped when the man behind her spoke again, the words very close to her ear. He had abandoned his pose against the light post to move nearer. Suddenly they were both too close, her body sandwiched between them. They weren’t touching her, not yet, but the beer-tainted breath of the one behind was overpowering. Her stomach reacted, coiling sickly with fear. Flight or fight. Only she couldn’t fight two men. Like a fool, she had left Deke’s gun in the car.

  If she could get to the car, she thought, and then she discarded the idea. That would lead them to Deke. She wondered how much they knew. Did they know Deke was here? And helpless?

  “It’s not often we get such a pretty lady in town. All alone on a Friday night,” the one behind her said. His fingers slipped under her hair, caressing upward along her neck to her earlobe. Involuntarily she shivered. “Pretty hair. Ain’t she got pretty hair, Clarence. All black and soft and shiny.”

  He caught a curl, holding it out in an attempt to show his friend. When she looked down, she could see his fingers, rubbing the strands together. His nails were rimmed with grease and his hand smelled of tobacco. She closed her eyes briefly, fighting the terror that would rob her of the ability to think. She had to get away, but she couldn’t lead them to Deke. If anything, she should try to lead them away.

  She opened her eyes and jerked her head to the right. The hair he’d captured slipped from between his fingers, and she felt the breath of his laughter against her cheek.

  “I said,” she said again, more forcefully, “excuse me. I’m not really interested.”

  “Yeah, but we are,” the man in front of her spoke. “Real interested,” he added, smiling at her, enjoying the fact that he was making her afraid.

  “What’s a little girl like you doin’ out all by herself?” the other said. The question was almost against her neck, his mouth closer, more daring. “Don’t you have no man to take you places on a Friday night?”

  They were not after Deke Summers, she realized suddenly. Only her. A woman alone. For some reason that was more reassuring that it should have been. The danger was real enough, but these men were offering a very different kind of threat.

  She stepped to the right, to the side of the sidewalk not blocked by the outstretched arm. The man behind her caught her upper arm with a grip that was tight enough to bruise.

  “You ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he said. “At least not ’til I tell you you can.”

  “Let me go,” she said, struggling in quick panic to pull away. Hating the feel of his hand against her flesh.

  “I don’t think you’re big enough to make me, sweetheart. I don’t think you better even try. Now, I like a little bit of fight in a woman. But I got to warn you,” he said, moving his head slightly side to side, smiling again, “I am one mean son of a bitch. Don’t you go and make me mad now. You hear?”

  His voice was still amused, still playing with her, but there was nothing playful about the pressure of his fingers, biting into her arm.

  “Look,” she said, trying to reason with him. Reason with a drunk, she mocked herself, but she had no choice. She was outnumbered, outsized and alone. “I don’t want any trouble. I just need to get home. I’ve got a sick little boy.”

  “That’s what the medicine’s for? A sick kid?” he asked, his thumb moving up and down over her bare skin. “You a married lady?”

  “Yes,” she said, fighting against the rebuilding fear. Different from what she’d expected, but still terrifying. A different terror clawing its way upward through her stomach and into her throat.

  He moved closer to her, his chest against her shoulder, holding her to him with the grip he had on her arm.

  “He treat you right?” he whispered.

  “Yes,” she said again. She turned her face away from his breath, from his nearness, and closed her eyes.

  “I bet he don’t treat you as nice as I would. I know how to pleasure a woman. You ask anybody in town. Anybody’ll tell you. You ask Clarence.”

  He paused a moment, giving her the opportunity to follow his suggestion, but she couldn’t speak, aware of his growing arousal pressed against her hip. The entire front of his body hard against her side.

  “Ray’s real good,” Clarence said obligingly.

  “I have to get home to my baby.” She pushed the words past the tightness in her throat. “I’ve got a sick baby at home waiting for this medicine.”

  “Then you’re most likely in a hurry,” the man who held her suggested. “I don’t mind. We’ll just go over there into the alley, and we’ll be done in no time. I’ll make it good for you. I’m real good. You just asked Clarence.”

  Drunker than she’d thought. Maybe, just maybe, if she were smart…

  “And then you’ll let me go?” she whispered. “Let me go home and tend to my baby?”

  “Word of honor,” he vowed softly. “Cross my heart and hope to die if I don’t.”

  “And me,” Clarence said, reminding them of his presence. “Don’t you go forgettin’ about me.”

  “I ain’t forgettin’ you, Clarence,” he said patiently. “You’re my friend. My buddy. I don’t forget my buddies
.”

  He pulled her along the sidewalk, Clarence following. They reached the entrance to the parking lot, and she was infinitely relieved when they walked into the shadows there, relieved that she had not been mistaken about their destination.

  There were only three cars in the small lot between the two stores. The sedan, where she’d left Deke, was the first one they would come to. The other two were parked at the back, nearest the alley. She had guessed they belonged to the pharmacy’s employees. The man holding her arm began to urge her past the sedan, but she stopped, resisting for the first time since she’d seemingly agreed to go with him.

  “Let me put my little boy’s medicine in the car,” she begged. “It won’t take a minute. I don’t want to drop it in the alley. It’s so dark I might not find it again and it cost me a lot of money. I can’t afford to buy any more. It won’t take me a minute, I promise,” she said again. She was talking too much, trying so hard to make him believe.

  “Now, that sounds like a trick to me. Don’t that sound like a trick to you, Clarence? She’s gonna try to jump in that car and drive off or somethin’. You must think we’re real stupid.”

  “I just don’t want to lose this,” she said. She took a breath. “And besides, if I put it in the car my hands will be free,” she added softly, repulsed at her own invention.

  His head tilted, drunkenly trying to read her voice. The shadows were deeper here, and she could only see half his face, the rest of his features hidden by the darkness. She held her breath, hoping. Just let me get to the car. And to the gun she’d left on the driver’s seat.

  “Now I do like the sound of that,” he said, his voice low and intimate. Too close. Again drawing her toward his body by his grip on her arm, he bent his head to put his mouth against her throat. By the strongest force of will, she held her eyes open as his tongue, hot and wet, licked up her neck, the odors of stale sweat and beer revolting. She couldn’t give in to her terror. She tried not to think about what he was doing. She focused her gaze on the sedan. So near. She swallowed her nausea as his mouth covered her ear, his tongue invading, caressing, whispering what he intended.

  Finally, he moved back a few inches, staggering slightly, finding his balance only by his hold on her arm. “Don’t you like the sound of that, Clarence? She’s gonna put her kid’s medicine in the car so her hands’ll be free. Don’t that sound nice.”

  “You watch her,” Clarence warned.

  “She ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he jeered at the other’s concern. “I got hold of her arm. She ain’t goin’ nowhere except into that alley. Then she can go home to her baby. I promised her that. Word of honor,” he added solemnly, moving his left hand in an awkward, drunken X over his heart.

  He allowed her to walk toward the parked car. The most dangerous moment would be when she opened the door. The dome light would come on, revealing both Deke and the gun. She would have only a few seconds at most, before he realized what was happening. Even with his reactions slowed by the alcohol, she would have only seconds.

  “I have to get my keys,” she said. “I can’t do that if you’re holding me.” As proof of what she’d said, she held out her hands, the white sack containing the prescription in the left and the soda still clutched in the right.

  “You figure it out,” he instructed, smiling at his own cleverness, at having denied her freedom.

  She waited a moment, and knowing that she couldn’t afford to make him suspicious, she transferred the soda to her left hand and reached into the pocket of the knit shorts. She took out the ring and found the car key. He was still holding her left arm, but not as tightly as before. She inserted the key into the lock of the driver’s side door, fumbling in the darkness. Hand trembling, she took a breath and then opened it.

  There was no light. The interior remained as dark as the surrounding shadows. No light. It took her a few seconds to adjust to what hadn’t happened.

  “The medicine,” she said, moving slowly, trying to ease her left arm out of his hold, careful not to jerk it away, not to startle him. And unbelievingly, she felt him release her.

  She stepped nearer to the car, putting the door between her body and his. She laid the sack and the can on the front seat and groped in the darkness for the cool metal of the gun. Her hand closed around it, and she felt it slip into her palm, fitting smoothly there by design, her finger already automatically over the trigger.

  When she straightened, she did it in one motion, her entire body turning, her right hand coming up over the top of the door to point the gun at the center of his chest. She moved her other hand to join it, to hold the gun steady, the classic shooter’s stance her father had taught her, the frame of the door offering additional support.

  “Move back,” she ordered. “Get away from the car.”

  His eyes fell to the gun in her hand and then widened in disbelief. Even in the dimness she could see them jerk up to her face, the whites gleaming in the surrounding darkness, stretched with shock at what was happening. So different from his expectations. He took a couple of steps backward, automatic retreat from the threat of the weapon.

  She was aware of another movement, something happening at the back of the car. Clarence, she realized. Moving closer to them. She wondered if he could see the gun.

  “Aw, hell, Ray, she ain’t gonna shoot,” Clarence assured drunkenly. “She ain’t got the guts to pull that trigger.”

  “Whoa, man, this here is a big gun,” the other one said softly. “A real big gun.”

  “Get away from the car,” she ordered again. She wanted to include Clarence in the threat, but she was afraid to move the gun she had trained on the cowboy-hatted singer, a clear target at the center of the dark shirt. This one was closer, a greater danger, and he was the leader. She knew that. Clarence would do whatever he was told.

  “She ain’t gonna shoot,” Clarence offered again, his voice full of disgust. “Just take the damn thing away from her. It prob’ly ain’t even loaded.”

  “Don’t you bet on that,” she said. “It’s loaded.”

  “And you’re gonna shoot me with it?” Ray mocked, attempting to gather his courage despite the muzzle trained steadily on his body.

  “If you don’t get away from this car. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to go home. I’ve got a sick baby,” she lied again. She didn’t want to shoot them. She just wanted to get out of here, get into the car and get away.

  “Okay,” he agreed softly. “I’m movin’ away. I’m goin’. Just don’t you get anxious, sweetheart, and shoot that thing off by mistake.”

  His voice trembled slightly, despite the suggestion of coolness he was trying to inject, trying to save face before his friend and to insure that she wasn’t going to blow the middle out of his chest at the same time. “You just stay real calm,” he said, backing farther away from the door.

  “I told you she ain’t gonna shoot,” Clarence said.

  He began to move toward them again, coming far faster than she would have believed a man of his bulk and level of inebriation could have managed. She hesitated. A fatal second of hesitation before her mind made the decision to swing the gun toward the advancing figure.

  Suddenly the rear door flew open, catching Clarence in the side. Deke Summers exploded from the car. His foot, kicking with as much force as his muscled thigh could put behind it, slammed into the back of the big man’s knee. Clarence staggered, his chin cracking into the top of the open door. Deke’s left shoulder came up into his midsection as he bounced back off the frame.

  Using that shoulder, Deke pushed the man away from the car, throwing him onto the pavement. Then he kicked again, connecting this time with fat-covered ribs. Clarence doubled over sideways, writhing on the ground, the sounds he was making harsh and wheezing, as unpleasant as the noise of the thudding blows Deke had landed with his booted feet.

  Deke staggered back against the car, his face ashen in the gloom, but the blue eyes were open, savage and deadly, still focused on the man he’d
downed.

  Becki became aware again of the other one, the leader, retreating farther into the darkness at the mouth of the alley. As she watched his retreat, Deke’s hand close over hers, still holding his gun. She let him take it out of her grip, knowing that she’d screwed it all up. Don’t pull a gun on a man, her daddy had always said, unless you’re ready to shoot him. And she hadn’t been. Nothing in her life had prepared her to shoot someone.

  “I’ve got the guts,” Deke threatened, holding the gun out before him, left arm stretched straight and steady, letting them see the weapon. Letting them get a good look at it. The metallic gleam in the shadows emphasized its size and its lethal power.

  Clarence was sitting up now, the keening noises he’d been making softened, but they were still audible and apparently beyond his control, like a child trying desperately to stop his tantrum’s hysteria.

  “Get,” Deke ordered, the command very soft. It was the kind of command you gave a stray dog that had wandered into your yard, threatening your pets and your children. A command that showed no respect. No fear. Just certain domination. Just get.

  And they did. She watched the one who had done all the talking vanish into the blackness where they’d planned to take her. It took Clarence a little longer to stumble across the lot, holding his arms tightly around his stomach, protecting what were probably broken ribs. Then they were alone in the shadow of the drugstore.

  “You’re okay,” Deke said.

  It wasn’t a question, she realized, but a promise, a reassurance. He had lowered the gun, but other than that he hadn’t moved, his legs spread to maintain his faltering balance.

  “I’m okay,” she agreed, knowing that would probably never be true again. Nothing would ever really be okay again.

  “Come here,” Deke said, swaying a little, his elongated shadow on the pavement wavering.

  As she walked toward him, he lifted his left arm away from his body, the gun still in his hand, relaxed and yet very professionally held. When she realized what he was doing, she moved into his embrace, finally invited to rest against the warmth and strength of his chest. She felt his arm come around her, pulling her tightly into his body. Safe and protected again.