Fever

by Joan Swan

  “Oh ... my God ...” she said between breaths, her voice raspy with pain. “My side ... hit that stupid ... gun.”

  The other motel guest grumbled something unintelligible as his attention shifted from the cops back to the ice machine. The sound of his feet dragging on the cement brought Alyssa’s focus around, her eyes wide with surprise. And in the fraction of a second that followed, Teague realized that if he didn’t act fast, Alyssa would act faster.

  Before she could speak, Teague put one hand under her chin, turned her face and covered her mouth with his. She stiffened and squeaked, pushing at his chest. The hand cuffed to Teague’s pulled hard. He tightened his grip on her face and pulled back just enough to murmur, “Kiss me back, Alyssa. Please. Don’t push me into a corner.”

  He couldn’t read her expression in the shadows, but her mouth softened under his, her hand stopped tugging, her muscles lost some of their tension.

  “Oh, hey, man,” the other man stammered. “Sorry. Don’t mean to ... uh, er ... I’m just gettin’ some ice.”

  Teague broke contact only long enough to mutter, “You ain’t botherin’ us. Is he, baby?”

  Before she had a chance to answer, Teague kissed her again, and not solely for the purpose of keeping her quiet. He kissed her because he had to. After feeling those lips against his, he had to feel them again. And again. Her mouth was warm and soft. And with each press of his mouth, hers relaxed. Within seconds, she’d leaned into him, abandoning resistance.

  Teague tightened the arm at her waist and pulled her closer until they were chest to chest, hips to hips. He shifted, allowing her body to rub against his, allowing him to get a better feel of all her soft swells and lean muscle.

  And that was the moment she responded. Her hips met his pressure. Her mouth moved under his. The hand at his chest gripped the fabric of his shirt, as if to keep him close.

  The clatter of ice hitting a plastic bucket echoed in the small space. “Did you see the cops out there, man?” the guy asked. “Do you know what happened?”

  Teague didn’t answer. There was nothing that could make him pull away from Alyssa short of a cop holding a gun to his head, which he fully understood could happen at any moment.

  The man’s voice seemed to nudge Alyssa from a trance. She broke their kiss and looked up at Teague. Her eyes glimmered in the dim light, heavy-lidded, filled with surprise and confusion and heat.

  “Can’t you see I’m busy here?” Teague didn’t have to fake the irritation in his voice.

  The other man harrumphed and continued to fill the bucket. Teague ran his thumb over Alyssa’s bottom lip, slid his palm to her jaw, and his fingers into her hair. He let his other hand drop to the low curve of her spine and pulled her hips against his again. Fully erect, he indented the soft swell at the center of her pelvis. She sucked in a breath, met his pressure, closed her eyes.

  Teague’s mind hazed over. Almost slid right out from under him. His groin pulsed with heat. His hands ached to roam. He couldn’t stop himself when his mouth fell back to hers. And she didn’t resist. Her hand pressed against his face in the most endearing way as she tipped her head and opened to him.

  The leash on his restraint snapped. He kissed her back with a hunger that reflected all those dark, desperate years alone. Years he thought he’d never feel a woman’s lips again.

  Her hand slid over the back of his neck as she tilted her head a little more. Up and over his scalp as she teased her tongue into his mouth. After an instant of shock, he accepted her invitation with a groan that felt as if it rumbled all the way from his feet. Lost himself in the texture of her, the heat of her. The sexy play she elicited with her lips, teeth, tongue was like unlocking a private playroom door, giving him a glimpse into the secrets she kept for a classified few.

  And he liked the private disclosure of those secrets. Really liked it.

  Teague’s veins were filled with high octane, his body ready for a long, hot, steady burn followed by an intense, shattering explosion by the time the racket from the ice machine ceased and the man started back down the walkway.

  “Might want to head back to your room,” he muttered. “Cops’ll find any excuse to bust you.”

  Alyssa pulled away in one sharp movement, leaving Teague dizzy with lust. His heart beat double time, his chest rocked with quick breaths, his muscles strained for action.

  And his brain was definitely focused on one thing, and one thing only.

  Whoa. He shook off the haze and peered around the side of the building toward the parking lot. Only minutes had passed, but it felt as if he’d been floating in an alternate universe.

  Lights swept over the parking lot as another vehicle pulled in. But not a cop. Teague forced his mind to clear. He sharpened his attention on the man who emerged from the idling SUV and made his way to where the two cops stood talking to the woman. An eerie trickle of familiarity cut at Teague’s belly. Something about the way the man carried himself, the slant of his shoulders, the arrogant tilt of his head, but most of all, the stagger of his gait. Not quite a limp, but definitely not right.

  Teague had only met one man who’d walked that way and that man had no business showing up here. Now. Ever in Teague’s life, for that matter. Not again. Even the possibility threw Teague’s screwed-up world way the hell off kilter. If it was Vasser—Teague would never forget that bastard’s name—then nothing was as it seemed, and Teague was screwed beyond imagination.

  One cop held a hand out to the hotel manager, gesturing her to stay put as all three men pulled weapons and trotted toward the U-Haul. And all Teague could focus on was that man’s damned limp.

  Fuck.

  With his heart still pounding, his damn dick still hard, he scanned the parking lot for a vehicle to jack, but the few cars present were all out in the open. He moved back to the opposite side of the passage and peered down the length of the building. An older model Honda Pilot sat in the manager’s space.

  He looked down at Alyssa. “You’re going to have to move fast.”

  Her tongue drifted over her bottom lip. Her eyes remained downcast, her head turned away. Her body language screamed embarrassment. She’d probably shocked herself as much as she’d shocked him with that kiss. The possibility that she regretted it nagged at his ego, but there was no time to dwell.

  He dug in his pocket and found the cuff key. With a quick click, he released the metal from his own wrist. It was simply too awkward to keep her tethered to him.

  He wrapped his arm around her back, using the good side of her ribs for support. “Put your arm around me and hold on.”

  They scuttled along the building, obscured by the motel’s shrubbery. Two more cop cars came blaring onto the scene just as he and Alyssa reached the Honda. The cops would search the rooms first, but that wouldn’t take long. And as soon as they found Ice Man, they’d know which direction to look. Teague had five minutes, tops. And if that other guy was really Vasser, the cops were the least of Teague’s problems.

  If he had thought his spiraling plan had hit rock bottom when he’d killed Taz, he’d been wrong, just like he’d been wrong about everything else.

  He dropped the Walmart bags at his feet and secured Alyssa to the driver’s side door handle.

  “Come on.” She jerked against the metal. “This is so unnecessary.”

  “Where you’re concerned I never know what to think.”

  He dragged the lantern from one of the plastic bags and worked at its metal handle, but couldn’t pry it loose. Anxiety pumped through his body. Teague closed his eyes, cleared his mind and channeled the energy into his hands. The metal softened and twisted and finally snapped off one side. Before the heat slipped away, he worked the thin metal rod in his palm to straighten the curve then create a hook at the end.

  “That’s just ...” Alyssa’s soft voice brought Teague’s gaze up. She was peering around his shoulder, her eyes wide with awe.

  “Weird,” he said. “I know.”

  “Amazing, not
weird,” she countered. “You have to change your thinking patterns.”

  “Whatever.” He slid his new tool between the glass and the window frame on the driver’s side. The metal hooked around the interior door handle on the first try, and he popped the door open. He uncuffed Alyssa from the door and pushed her forward.

  “Get in.” He glanced over his shoulder. Still clear. “Climb across.”

  She moved too slow for his amped state. Teague slid halfway onto the driver’s seat, grabbed her thighs and shoved her over. He didn’t have time to be gentle.

  He clicked her free cuff to the passenger’s door handle, then leaned under the dash on the driver’s side. One ripping jerk and the dash’s plastic cover popped off. With a handful of wires, Teague yanked, searched, plucked the colors he needed. His hands were shaking too hard to manage the fine work of stripping the plastic coatings, so he stuck the wires between his teeth instead, bit into the rubbery outside and pulled them off.

  Red to red. Twist. Red to brown. Focus. Channel. Spark. Channel. Spark. Grind. Churn. The engine turned over.

  “Yessss.” He swung an arm over the back of the seat and whipped out of the parking spot, turned the wheel, and with one last look for witnesses, jammed the vehicle into drive.

  The cops were still on the other side of the building, probably doing a room check as Teague reached the street by mowing down the border shrubs and driving right over a weedy grass patch. He hit the road, turned left and had to squeeze the steering wheel until his fingers turned white so he wouldn’t gun the damn car to a hundred. With a steady speed, he kept his attention divided between the road and his rearview mirror.

  “Where did you learn to do that?” Alyssa’s voice dragged Teague’s attention across the car to those big, light eyes looking at him through a haze of suspicion, frustration and pain.

  “Do what?”

  “Break into a car. Not exactly the kind of thing you learn in Boy Scouts.”

  “No.” The veiled accusation burned. Especially after that kiss. “The kind of thing you learn as a fireman, to help people who either lost their keys or locked them in the car.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What about the hot-wiring part?”

  His fingers wrung the steering wheel. “The hot-wiring part works great when someone has lost their keys in the snow or the sand or the water and would either be stranded or waiting hours for a locksmith when they’ve got another set at home.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Maybe you should change your own thought patterns.” Irritation replaced the immediate fear of being caught. No one was following them as Teague took the ramp onto the freeway. “Why do you think everything has to have a nefarious purpose?”

  “Nefarious. Nice word choice. You’re a convicted mur—” She cut herself short, her eyes going dark and troubled. “Felon. What do you expect me to think?”

  A familiar stab of disappointment dug deep, cooling the heat she’d stoked so readily just moments before. “Looks like I should go back to expecting you to think just like everyone else.”

  TEN

  Alyssa watched Creek drive, fighting the guilt trying to creep into her mind. She’d judged and accused him. The disappointment in his eyes was far too familiar for her to miss, and considering how much pain that emotion had caused her over the years, she felt sick that she’d inflicted it on someone else. On him.

  She remained quiet as he drove, unsure what to say. Unsure how to feel. Her body was still buzzing, her lips still burning from those kisses. In just twelve hours her life had been turned inside out, her future thrown to the wind, all her hard work trampled. She was now bound to a stranger who had evidently committed the hideous murder of someone he’d supposedly cared about, but part of her simply couldn’t reconcile the man with the act.

  As they hit the edge of town, she studied his profile, trying to gauge his state of mind. When she couldn’t evaluate his expression, she found her gaze drawn to his mouth. He was a forceful, hungry kisser. An amazing kisser. Passionate, the way he encompassed her in his arms as if he wanted to own her. Erotic, the way he’d responded to the advance she hadn’t been able to keep herself from making, the way he’d rubbed his hips against hers. And that erection. Criminy. She wiped a hand across her damp forehead. Just the memory caused a burst of white-hot fire between her legs. He was a freaking rock-hard ball of fire. And he was big. Like ... wow.

  Not that it mattered. She was sure he’d be an awesome lover, regardless. Passionate, intense, demanding and erotic. He’d be like no other man she’d ever known, no doubt in her mind. He’d already blown every one of her past boyfriends out of the kissing department.

  “Didn’t your mother teach you staring is rude?”

  Alyssa’s gaze jumped back to Creek’s eyes, where he split his attention between her and the road, looking both concerned and irritated.

  “You shouldn’t have kissed me.” The words hung between them. “There’s a line, you know? We have to draw a line in the sand and stay behind it.”

  He hesitated, looking at her as if he didn’t quite understand what she’d said. Then a little grin tipped his mouth. “Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?”

  “Shut up.”

  The little grin grew into a smile that held more irony than humor. “I may have started it, but, damn girl, you finished it.”

  Heat rushed her cheeks. Her chest. “Shut. Up.”

  He snorted a laugh, propped his elbow on the door and ran his fingers over his mouth, reminding Alyssa how he’d rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip before he’d kissed her again. The gesture so sweet just before he’d taken her mouth like a man possessed. She could still feel the sizzle of it to her toes.

  Her mind traveled to all the wrong destinations. Her body pulsed with heat in all the wrong places. She looked straight ahead out the window as the sunrise cast a coral glow on the horizon. “Can I call my dad now?”

  A heavy sigh rocked Creek’s wide shoulders. “Will you sleep for twelve hours if I let you?”

  “Probably not twelve, but I promise to stop talking for a while.”

  “Define ‘a while.’ ”

  “At least two hours.”

  He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he rolled the thought over in his mind. She could tell by his expression that he was going to cave, which gave her the opportunity to enjoy the sexy twist of his mouth as he pretended to consider.

  “Two hours isn’t much for that kind of risk.”

  “Give it up. You’re transparent. And I won’t relent until I talk to him.”

  “Transparent,” he repeated, and his brow lifted as he thought about the comment. Then out of nowhere he asked, “Is your mother dead?”

  “No. Why?”

  He shrugged. “I expected you to ask for her, that’s all.”

  No, Alyssa didn’t want to talk to her mother. Especially not now. “Stop stalling and give me the phone.”

  He dug the cell out of his back pocket and held it out to her. “Conditions.”

  “I know.” Alyssa rolled her eyes. “No hints, no codes. Blah, blah, blah.”

  “And the conversation is on speaker.”

  Discomfort trickled into her belly. “Why?”

  “I think that’s obvious.” He lifted his brows at her. “Problem?”

  She couldn’t—no matter how she tried to force her eyes to stay locked on his—keep her gaze from falling to his mouth. Dammit.

  She swept the phone from his hand. “Fine.”

  Now that she was holding it, her mind veered toward her family. Would talking to her father make his anxiety worse? What would she say? And, her mother ... She cringed.

  “Change your mind?” Creek asked.

  “No, I’m trying to figure out how to tell them a lunatic kidnapped me and that I don’t know where we’re going or when I’ll be home, or even if I’ll be home, in a way that won’t freak them out and make things worse.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t call.”

  “No.�
�� She’d learned better during her years in medicine. “Knowing, no matter how bad, is always better than not knowing.”

  Dialing, Alyssa prayed her father would answer. He was usually the only one up at this hour of the morning, and definitely the only person she wanted to talk to.

  “Speaker,” Creek said. “And make it quick.”

  Alyssa pressed the speaker button and the ring at her parents’ home filled the car.

  On the second ring, a rough, breathless, expectant, “Hello,” came over the line.

  She hesitated, confused to hear her twin brother’s voice. “Mitch?”

  “Oh, my God, Lys! Are you okay? Where are you?”

  She darted a look at Creek and found him watching her with only occasional glances at the road. She pointed to her own eyes with two fingers, then at the road and mouthed watch where you’re going. His lids dropped low in warning before he turned away.

  “Alyssa?” Her brother’s worried voice redirected her.

  “Yes, I’m here. I called to tell Dad that I’m okay. Can I talk to him?”

  “Not until you talk to me. Where are you?”

  “I, um, can’t say.”

  “Is he right there? Are you still with him?”

  “Yes. How’s Dad taking it?”

  “How do you think he’s taking it? He’s a mess.”

  Alyssa’s brain tightened as her thoughts sharply refocused. “Have you taken his blood pressure? Are the nitroglycerin patches handy?”

  “Hold on. You’re the one who’s God only knows where with some fucking murderer—”

  “Mitch, don’t swear.” She cast a look at Creek, whose hands were wringing the steering wheel, mouth pressed into a hard frown. “I’ve heard enough to last me the rest of my life.”

  “You’re the one I’m worried about,” he continued, talking over her as he often did. “Give me something to go on, Lys, anything.”

  Creek lifted a hand and gestured in a circle, a get-going sign.

  “I can’t talk long. Put Dad on the phone.”

  “You tell that motherfucking sonofabitch that I’m going to make sure he is prosecuted to within an inch of his life.”