by Diana Palmer
He stared down at the rocks and winced as he saw once again, in his memory, the floating white dress and the equally white face and open, dead eyes of the woman he’d wanted even more than the name of the person who had betrayed him. Isabella, he thought with anguish. He had never loved, not until Isabella came into his home as a housekeeper, the sister of one of his lieutenants’ friends. She had talked to him, admired him, teased him as if he were a boy. She had made herself so necessary to him that he told her things that he told no one else. She had made him want to be clean, to give up his decadent life, to have a family, a home. But when he had approached her ardently, she had suddenly wanted no part of him. In a fit of rage when she pushed him away at a party on his yacht, he hit her. She went over the rails and into the ocean, vanishing abruptly under the keel of the boat.
He had immediately regretted the act, but it was too late. His men had searched for her in the water until daybreak before he let them give up the search, only to find her washed up on the beach, dead, when he arrived back at his mansion. Her death had cheapened him, cheapened his life. He was deeply sorry that his temper had pushed him to such an act, that he cost himself the most precious thing in his life. He had killed her. He was damned, he thought. Damned eternally. And probably he deserved to be.
Since that night, two years ago, just before his arrest in the United States for narcotic trafficking, he had no other thought than to find the man who had betrayed him. Nothing made him happy since her loss, not even the pretty young woman who sang at a club in Cancún just recently. He had taken a fancy to her because she reminded him of Isabella. He had ordered his henchmen to bring her to him one night after her performance. He had enjoyed her, but her violent revulsion had angered him and she, too, had felt his wrath. She had taken her own life, jumped from a high balcony rather than submit to him a second time. Her death had wounded him, but not as deeply as the loss of Isabella. Nothing, he was certain, would ever give him such anguish and remorse again. He thought of the woman Jessica and her son, of the fear she would experience when he had her child. Then, he thought angrily, she would give him the name of her informant. She would have to. And, at last, he would have his vengeance for the betrayal that had sent him to an American prison.
EB HADN’T COME NEAR the house all day. After Stevie was tucked up in bed, Jessica and Sally sat together in the dimly lit living room and watched the clock strike midnight.
“It’s time,” Sally said huskily, stiff with nerves.
Jessica only nodded. Like Sally, her frame was rigid. She had made her decision, the only decision possible. Now they were all going to pay the consequences for it.
Even as the thought crawled through her mind, she heard the sudden whir of a helicopter closing in.
“Get down!” Jessica called to Sally, sliding onto the big throw rug full-length. She felt Sally beside her as the helicopter came even closer and a flash, followed by an explosion, shook the roof.
Smoke came down the chimney, filling the room. Outside, the whir of the helicopter was accompanied by small arms fire and the sounds of bullets hitting something hard. Then that sound was abruptly interrupted by a sudden whooshing sound. Right on the heels of that came a violent explosion that lit up the whole sky and then the unmistakable sound of falling debris.
“There went the chopper,” Jessica said huskily. “Sally, are you all right?”
“Yes. We have to get out,” she said, coughing. “The smoke is going to choke us!”
She helped Jessica to her feet and started her down the hall to the front door while she went to grab Stevie up out of his bed and rush down the same hall with him in her arms. It was like a nightmare, but she didn’t have time to count the cost or worry about the outcome. She was doing what was necessary to save them, in the quickest possible time. She could only pray that they wouldn’t run out right into the arms of Lopez’s men.
She caught up with Jess, who was feeling her way along the wall. Taking her by the arm, with Stevie close, she propelled them to the front door, unlocked it, and rushed out onto the porch.
Eb was running toward them, but an Eb that Sally didn’t recognize at first. He was dressed completely in black with a face mask on, carrying a small automatic weapon. Other men, similarly dressed, were already going around the back of the house.
“Come with me,” Eb called, herding them into the forest and into a four-wheel-drive vehicle. “Lock the doors and stay put until we check out the house,” he said.
He was gone even as the words died on the air. Stevie huddled close to his mother while Sally watched Eb’s stealthy but rapid approach toward the house, her heart racing madly. Even though the attack had been expected, it was frightening.
A tap on the window next to Jessica on the passenger side made them all jump. Dallas pulled off his face mask, smiling as he replaced a walkie-talkie in his belt. “Open the window,” he said.
Sally fumbled with the key in the ignition and powered the passenger side window down.
“We got the chopper,” he said. “But it’s only a smoke bomb in the house, irritating but not deadly. Lopez is a man of his word. He did attack at midnight. Pity about the chopper,” he added with glittery eyes. “That will set him back a little small change.”
Sally didn’t ask the obvious question, but she knew that somebody had to be piloting that helicopter. She felt sick inside, now that the danger was past.
“Is everyone all right?” Jessica asked. “We heard shots.”
“The chopper was well-equipped with weapons,” Dallas said. “But he wasn’t a very good shot.”
“Thank God,” Jessica said heavily.
Dallas reached in and touched her face gently, pausing to run a rough hand over Stevie’s tousled hair. “Don’t be afraid,” he said softly. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Jessica held his hand to her cheek and choked back a sob. Dallas bent to touch his mouth to her wet eyes.
Impulsively Stevie leaned across his mother to hug the big blond man, too. Watching them, Sally felt empty and alone. They were already a family, even if they hadn’t realized it.
Dallas’s walkie-talkie erupted in a burst of static. “All clear,” Eb’s voice came back to them. “I’m phoning the sheriff while the others open the windows and turn on the attic fan to get this smoke out of here. Then I’ll lock up.”
“What about…” Dallas began.
“We’ll take the women and Stevie home with us,” he said. “No sense in leaving them here for the rest of the night. Sally?”
Dallas moved the walkie-talkie to her mouth. “Yes?” she said, shaken.
“Come in and help me find what you need in the way of clothes for all three of you. Dallas, take Jess and Stevie back to the house. We’ll catch up.”
“Sure thing.”
Sally got out of the vehicle, still in her jeans and sneakers and sweatshirt, her long hair falling out of its braid. Dallas got in under the wheel as she walked back to the house. She heard the engine roar and glanced back to see the utility vehicle pull out of the yard. At least Jess and Stevie were safe. But she felt shaken to the soles of her sneakers.
Eb was in the smoky living room, having just hung up the phone. His mask was in one hand, dangling along with the small machine gun. He looked tough and angry as he glanced at Sally’s white face. He didn’t say a word. He just held out his arm.
Sally ran to him, and he gathered her up in his arms and held her tight while she shivered from the shock of it all.
“I’m no wimp, honest,” she whispered in a choked attempt at humor. “But I’m not used to people bombing my house.”
He chuckled deeply and hugged her close. “Only a smoke bomb, baby,” he said gently. “Noisy and frightening, but not dangerous unless it set fire to something. He had to make a statement, you see. Lopez is a man of his word.”
“Damn Lopez,” she muttered.
“Amen.”
Around them, men were pouring over the house. Eb escorted Sa
lly down the hall to her bedroom.
“Get what you need together,” he said, “but only essentials. I’d like to get you out of here very soon after the sheriff arrives.”
“The sheriff…?”
“It’s his jurisdiction,” he told her. “I’m sanctioned, if that’s what the worried look is about,” he added when he saw her face. He smiled. “I wouldn’t take the law into my own hands. Not in this country, anyway,” he added with a grin.
“Thank goodness,” she said heavily. “I had visions of trying to bail you out of jail.”
“Would you?” he teased.
“Of course.”
She looked so solemn that the smile faded from his lips. He gathered a handful of her thick blond hair and pulled her wan face under his. His grip was a little tight, and the look in his green eyes was glittery. “Danger is an aphrodisiac, did you know?” he whispered roughly, and bent to her mouth.
He hadn’t kissed her that way before. His mouth was hard and demanding on her lips, parting them ruthlessly as his body shifted and one arm pushed her hips deliberately into the changing contours of his own.
She felt helpless. Her mouth opened for him. Her body arched up, taut and hot, in the grip of madness. She returned his kiss ardently, moaning when his legs parted so that he could maneuver her hips between them, letting her feel the power of his arousal.
His tall, fit body shuddered and she could feel the sharp indrawn breath he took.
After a few wild seconds, he dragged his mouth away from hers without letting her move away even a fraction of an inch. He looked down at her with intent, searching her wide, soft gray eyes hungrily. The arm that was holding her was like a steel rod at her back, but against her legs, she felt the faintest tremor in his.
“I’ve gone hungry for a long time,” he whispered gruffly.
She didn’t know how to reply to such a blatant statement. Her eyes searched his in an odd silence, broken only by the whir of the attic fan in the hall and the muffled sound of voices as Eb’s men searched the house. She reached up and touched his hard mouth tenderly, loving the immediate response of his lips to the caress.
He bent, nuzzling his face against hers to find her mouth. He kissed her urgently, but with restraint, nibbling her lower lip sensuously. Both arms went around her, riveting her to him. Her own slid under his arms and around his hard waist, holding him close. She closed her eyes, savoring the wondrous contact. The fierce hunger he felt was quite obvious in the embrace, but it didn’t frighten her. She wanted him, too.
“When I heard the explosion,” he said at her ear, his voice tight with tension, “I didn’t know what we were going to find when I ran toward the house. We’d planned for any eventuality, but the chopper came in under radar. We didn’t even hear the damned thing until we could see it, and then the launcher jammed…!”
She hadn’t imagined that Eb would be afraid for her. It was wonderful. She hugged him closer and felt him shiver.
“We were a little shaken,” Sally whispered. “But we’re all okay.”
“I didn’t expect to feel like this,” he said through his teeth.
She lifted her head and looked up at his strained face. “Like…this?”
His green gaze met her soft gray one and then fell to her mouth, to her soft breasts flattened against him. “Like this,” he whispered and moved deliberately against her while he held her eyes.
She blushed, because it was blatant.
But he didn’t smile. “I knew you were going to be trouble six years ago,” he said through his teeth. He bent and kissed her again, fiercely, before he put her away from him and stood trying to get his breath.
She was shivering a little in the aftermath of the most explosive sensuality she’d ever felt. She searched his face quietly, despite the turmoil inside her awakened body.
“You’ve never felt like that before, have you?” he asked in a hushed tone.
She shook her head, still too shaken for words.
“If it’s any consolation, it gets steadily worse,” he continued. “Think about that.”
He turned and went out into the hall with her puzzled eyes following him. She touched her swollen lips gingerly and wondered what he meant.
THE SHERIFF, BILL ELLIOTT, and two deputies pulled up in the yard, took statements and looked around with Eb and the other men. Sally was questioned briefly, and when the house was secure, Eb drove her back to his house with the rest of his men remaining in the woods.
“I don’t think Lopez has any idea of trying again tonight,” he said, “but I’m not taking any chances. I’ve already underestimated him once.”
“He does keep his word,” she said huskily.
“Yes.”
“What do we do now?”
“I take you and Stevie to school and Jess stays at my house. In fact, you all stay at my house,” he said curtly. “I’m not putting you at risk a second time.”
She was stunned at the emotion in his voice. He was really concerned about her. She felt a warm glow all the way to her toes.
He glanced at her with slow, sensuous eyes. “At least at my own house, I can find one room with no bugs.” His eyes went to her breasts and back to her face. “I’m starving.”
She knew he wasn’t talking about food, and her heart began racing madly.
He caught her hand in his free one and worked his fingers slowly between hers, pressing her palm to his. “Don’t worry. I won’t let things go too far, Sally.”
She wasn’t worried about that. She was wondering how she was going to go on living if he made love to her and then walked away.
WHEN THEY GOT TO THE HOUSE, Jessica and Dallas were in the small bedroom Eb’s male housekeeper had given Stevie, tucking him in.
Eb had his housekeeper show the others to their rooms and he excused himself, tugging Sally along with him, to Dallas’s obvious amusement.
“Where are we going?” Sally asked.
“To bed. I’m tired. Aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
She supposed he was giving her a room further down the hall, but he didn’t stop at any of the closed doors. He led her around a corner and through two double doors into a huge room with Mediterranean furnishings and green and gold and brown accessories. He closed the double doors, locking them, before he turned to the dresser and pulled out a pair of blue silk pajamas.
“You can wear the pajama top and I’ll wear the bottoms,” he said matter-of-factly.
Her breath escaped in a rush. “Eb…”
He drew her into his arms and kissed her slowly, with deliberate sensuality, making nonsense of her protests with his hands as they skimmed under the sweatshirt and up to find her taut breasts.
She moaned, feeling the fever rise in her as he unfastened the bra and touched her hungrily. Her body arched, helping him, inviting him. Her hands gripped hard against the powerful muscles of his upper arms, drowning in waves of pleasure.
His mouth lifted fractionally. “I won’t hurt you,” he breathed. “Not in any way. But you’re sleeping in my arms tonight.”
She started to protest, but his mouth was already covering hers, muffling the words, muffling her brain.
His hands removed the sweatshirt and the bra and he looked at her with quiet, possessive eyes, drinking in the soft textures, the smooth skin, the beauty of her. He touched her gently, smiling as her body reacted to his skilled hands.
His mouth slid down to her breasts and kissed them slowly, each caress more ardent than the one before. He had her out of her jeans and sneakers and down to her briefs before she realized what was happening.
He moved away just long enough to pick up the pajama top and slip it over her head, still buttoned. He lifted her, dazed, in his arms and paused, balancing her on one knee, to pull the covers back so that he could tuck her into bed. He leaned over her, balancing on his hands, and searched her flushed, fascinated face.
“I’ll be in after I’ve talked to Dallas and reset the monitors.”
His eyes kindled with pleasure. He smiled, because he knew she was accepting anything he proposed. It was humbling. He kissed her eyelids closed. “Sleep well.”
She watched him go, uncertain if that meant he was sleeping elsewhere. She was so tired that she fell asleep almost as soon as the doors closed behind him, wrapped in sensuous dreams.
CHAPTER TEN
SALLY HAD VIOLENT, PASSIONATE DREAMS that night. She moved helplessly under invisible caressing hands, moaning, arching up to prolong their warm, sweet contact. Her body burned, swelled, ached. She whispered to some faceless phantom, pleading with it not to stop.
There was soft, deep laughter at her ear and the rough warmth of an unshaven face moving against her skin, where her heart beat frantically. Slowly it occurred to her that it felt just a little too vivid to be a dream…
Her eyes flew open and blond-streaked brown hair came into focus under them in the pale dawn light filtering in through the window curtains. Her hands were enmeshed in its thick, cool strands and when she looked down, she realized that her pajama top was open, baring her to a marauding mouth.
“Eb!” she exclaimed huskily.
“It’s all right. You’re only dreaming,” he whispered, and his mouth slid up to cover her lips as the hair-roughened skin of his muscular chest slid over her bare breasts. She felt his legs entwining with her own, felt the throb of his body, the tenderness of his hands, his mouth, as he learned her by touch and taste.
“Dreaming?”
“That’s right.” He lifted his lips from hers and looked down into misty gray eyes. He smiled. “And a lovely dream it is,” he added in a whisper as he lifted away enough to give his eyes a stark view of everything the pajama top no longer covered. “Lovelier than I ever imagined.”
“What time is it?” she asked, dazed.
“Dawn,” he told her, smoothing her long hair back away from her flushed face. “Everyone else is still asleep. And there are no bugs, of any sort, in here with us,” he added meaningfully.