by Anita Meyer
Damn, where was she?
Jeff straightened and raised his face to the sky. Please, God, let me find her. And if I do, I swear it’ll be different. We’ll work something out.
A splash of color—a speckled pink—somewhere ahead caught his eye. A flower? A bird? Maybe. Maybe not. It might have been a headband or some article of clothing. Heck, he didn’t even know what she was wearing. The last time he’d seen her she was in a printed nightshirt that came midway to her thighs and bared her long, long legs. Not much to go on.
He saw the color again, bobbing up and down, but farther away. It was no bird or flower. Of that much he was sure. That pink whatever-it-was belonged to a human, and even if it wasn’t Caroline, it might be someone who had seen her.
Jeff took off, pounding the trail, putting to use all those years of training as a sprinter. He focused on the splash of color, trying to keep it in view, tracking it as it weaved through the trees. He pushed harder and was beginning to close the gap when it suddenly disappeared. Up ahead, the trail rounded a corner and with a final burst of speed, Jeff threw himself into the curve.
Too late he discovered the limb of a large baobab tree that lay across the road. He tried to jump it, but his foot caught in the branch and sent him sprawling facedown on the trail. He got out no more than a grunt when his arm was whipped behind him and a knee was pressed firmly into the small of his back.
“All right, buster. Who are you, and why are you following me?”
“Caroline?” Jeff tried to turn his head around and get a look at his assailant.
“Jeff?” Her grip relaxed a fraction of a second, before she changed her mind and yanked a little harder on his arm.
“What are you trying to do, break my arm?”
“You’re lucky I don’t break both arms for scaring me half to death. Exactly what were you trying to prove, anyway?”
“I wasn’t trying to prove anything. I was trying to find you. Guess you were in too much of a hurry to leave a note.”
“I thought I’d be back before you woke up.”
Jeff twisted uncomfortably on the dirt-packed trail. “Do you mind if we finish this discussion standing up?”
“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I rather like it this way—my being in control, for a change.”
In one fluid motion, Jeff flipped her onto her back, instantly reversing their positions. He straddled her waist, pinned her wrists over her head with his right hand, then laid his left forearm across her throat. “Don’t get too used to it,” he growled.
Caroline swallowed against the pressure on her throat. She blinked, but said nothing.
After a moment he stood, pulling her to her feet. “You’re lucky it was me. Otherwise you would have looked pretty foolish trying to explain to the management why you attacked an innocent jogger out for a morning run.”
She looked down, dusting the dirt from her clothes. Her eyes focused first on the small black revolver lying near his feet, then traveled slowly up the length of his body until she met his steady gaze with one of her own. “I suppose you’d like to explain to some passerby why you’re running the exercise trail wearing little more than your pajamas and a gun.”
Jeff scooped up the revolver, checked the safety, blew away a few specks of dirt, and slipped it into the shoulder holster under his arm. Then he buttoned his short-sleeved shirt, concealing the weapon. “I didn’t have a lot of time to spend on my wardrobe,” he countered. “I grabbed the gun and my sneakers and took off.”
“So I see,” she said, eyeing him up and down once more.
“This isn’t funny, Caroline. What you did was stupid and reckless. Anything could have happened out here.”
“I told you before, I can take care of myself.”
“Not from what I see. You’re standing out in the middle of nowhere. It’s barely dawn. You’re alone, and unprotected.”
“I’m perfectly safe,” she insisted. “We’ve been here less than twenty-four hours. Davis hasn’t had time to find me.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But I’m not willing to take that chance.” He raked a hand through his hair in frustration. “Damn it, lady. Didn’t it occur to you that someone might worry?”
“Better watch it, McKensie. You sound as though you care.”
He took a step closer. “Maybe I do,” he said.
“Maybe you shouldn’t,” she warned, her chin jutting as she stood toe-to-toe with him.
Jeff clenched his fist, resisting the urge to knock some sense into her. “What is it going to take to get through to you?” he demanded. “Look around here. You could have been shot at a dozen different points along this trail.”
“By you or the bad guys?”
“What is it with you?” he shouted. He grabbed her arms and shook her roughly. “This whole thing is one big joke to you. Don’t you give a damn about your own life?”
Caroline squirmed out of his grasp and pushed him away. For weeks she had teetered on the brink of an emotional precipice, holding on only by the sheer force of her own will. And now the one man who was supposed to save her was about to push her over the edge.
“A joke?” she whispered. “Is that what you think?” She swallowed hard and her voice came out stronger and louder as her words tumbled forth in a rush. “Well, let me tell you something. Let me tell you how funny it is finding out your old man is the accountant for the worst crime syndicate in New York. Or what a laugh you get watching your brother bleed all over the Persian library rug. Or how about this one?—you’re sitting in a locked room, surrounded by cops cleaning their guns, when suddenly the whole place goes up like the Fourth of July. Downright hysterical, wouldn’t you say?” She swiped angrily at the tears pooling behind her eyelids. “Maybe I do make light of things. Maybe I am too quick with a joke or a retort. But it’s the only way I can deal with what’s happened. It’s the only way I can keep from going crazy, from shattering into a zillion pieces, and ending up like some impossible jigsaw puzzle that just won’t fit together. And if you can’t handle that, if my behavior offends the delicate sensibilities of the squeaky-clean Yuppie lawyer, then you can take off right now. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”
“Caroline—” Jeff reached for her, but she stumbled back.
“Don’t touch me. Don’t…don’t do anything.” She waved her hands uselessly. “Just leave me alone.” She turned and fled down the trail.
For a moment Jeff stood there, watching her retreating form. Twice now, he had misunderstood. Twice he had misread the pain and sorrow that haunted her beautiful eyes. He hated himself for hurting her, for adding to her unspoken grief, and he’d give anything to turn back the clock.
But that wasn’t possible. So he did the next-best thing. He ran after her. Not fast enough to catch her, but fast enough to keep her in sight, to watch the surrounding area as best he could, to follow at a discreet distance as she finished the course. She never stopped, never paused, never looked around. He watched her disappear into the room and by the time he ran in after her, the bathroom door was closed and he could hear the shower running.
Jeff paged Mac to let him know she had been found. Then he put the gun back in the nightstand, and sat down on the bed to wait.
Caroline threw her head back and let the warm water run down her face. After that miserable little confession to Jeff, the shower felt like a safe haven—no cops, no guns, no bodyguards, no pretend husbands; just a little cocoon that was wet and warm. She would like nothing more than to curl up and stay put for, oh, say, the next two or three years.
Funny how the small enclosure didn’t bother her. But then, she had never been claustrophobic. No, what she objected to was being locked in. At least in the shower you could leave whenever you wanted to.
Couldn’t you?
Caroline looked at the glass door, knowing full well it was held shut by only a small metal clasp. But the seed of doubt had already been planted in her mind. Her fingers reached for the handle, then stopped in midai
r.
This is crazy, she told herself. It’s just a shower door. It’s not locked. You know that. You don’t have to test it.
Her hand stayed where it was, just a few inches from the door, fingers twitching. But there was no way to dispel the doubt…the disquiet…the niggling fear.
She held out for as long as she could, then lunged against the glass door. It flew open on impact, swinging around and bouncing off the wall behind it. Caroline reached into the room, grabbed the chrome handle and yanked the door shut.
She sagged against the wall, feeling stupid and foolish.
She could handle real locks—physical ones, the kind you could touch. She’d even picked Jeff’s fancy cuffs the way her brothers had taught her. But fear? Caroline shook her head. Her fear trapped her more than any lock ever could.
The open door had left a chill on her skin and she turned up the hot-water knob, wanting to recapture the warmth and solace. A fine spray of hot water hit her full in the face and a cloud of steam enveloped her body.
The feeling of safety and comfort was out there, just beyond her reach. She rotated the knob another quarter inch, then turned her back to the spray, determined to find some semblance of peace, no matter how small. But the feeling of womb-like safety was long gone, and changing the water temperature didn’t bring it back. Caroline angrily jerked the knob again, once more increasing the temperature. If she couldn’t recapture the sense of safety, maybe she could cauterize the fear. She gritted her teeth against the quill-like sting, and turned the knob higher still. Again and again. Hotter and hotter.
Tears flooded her eyes. Her back was on fire, but it was only a fraction of a pain that went so deep, surely there was no end to it.
The steam was thick and she couldn’t see her arm or her hand or the knob that she gripped so tightly it might have shattered. Her body was wrapped in an ethereal cloud that was heavy and choking. Her back went numb and she had the strangest sense that she was melting, her body becoming a small puddle on the shower floor. In her mind she could see herself whirlpooling around and around, growing smaller and smaller as she funneled down the drain.
In a burst of lucidity, she spun the knob in the opposite direction, then sank to the floor as cold water pelted her. Like forging a heated horseshoe and plunging it into a bucket of icy water, she felt her body sizzling, adapting to its new shape. The water swept away the surface pain, and the cold numbed her feelings until the top layer was frozen solid. She no longer felt the emotional current, but she knew it was still there—deep inside, running silently, stealthily, like a winter stream waiting for a spring thaw.
Caroline struggled to her feet and turned off the water. A couple of months. All she had to do was hold it together for a couple more months. She would stay alive long enough to make Augie Davis pay for what he had done to her family. She would harbor her sanity for that reason alone.
She leaned against the shower door, opening it with the weight of her body. She stepped onto the bath mat and gingerly eased the towel around her tender shoulders. Sixty days. And then she could fall apart or melt down the drain or do whatever the hell she wanted—and it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference to anyone.
She dried off and slipped into a comfortable robe, wondering just how long she could hide in the bathroom. The last thing she needed was another confrontation with Jeff. Or worse yet, explain why she had ripped open her soul and given him a firsthand look.
And since when did she owe him an explanation for her behavior? For that matter, who even said he wanted one? She considered the possibility. Maybe she didn’t have to hide out in the bathroom. Maybe now that Jeff had seen her other side, the so-called soft and vulnerable side, he’d back off and leave her alone. Most men didn’t want anything to do with hysterical females. One glimpse of something emotional, and men turned tail and ran.
That’s how it had been with her father. Her mother’s body was barely in the grave when he’d shipped his kids off to Europe. Why should Jeff be any different? No doubt he was already trying to figure a way out of this… delicate entanglement.
In fact, she’d lay odds that right this very minute he was flat against the wall on the opposite side of the room, as far away from her as possible. She tossed the hairbrush onto the vanity and marched out of the bathroom, nearly colliding with him as he waited for her just outside the bathroom door.
“Caroline, I’m sorry.”
“Forget it,” she said, rushing past him. So much for predictability. She kept her back to him, rearranging the clothes that hung in the closet.
“I can’t,” he persisted, coming up behind her. “I had no right to pass judgment on you. I really am sorry.”
Her glance darted around the large room. There was no escape, no place to hide. She grabbed a large book from the dresser, and curled up in one of the wicker chairs, drawing her legs up under her and tucking the robe around her bare feet.
“It’s no big deal,” she said. She flipped quickly to the first page.
Jeff followed her across the room. “It is a big deal,” he said, pulling the other chair closer to hers. He took the book out of her hands and placed it on the table. “You were right about everything. It’ll be a lot easier to get through the next few months if you’re in one piece. And if that means using humor or sarcasm or cursing me out, well, I understand. And I promise not to give you a hard time about it ever again.”
Caroline folded her arms across her chest and looked everywhere but at Jeff. This wasn’t going the way she had planned. Not only was he not backing off, he actually expected her to talk about it. She squirmed uncomfortably in the chair and picked at a piece of invisible lint. She couldn’t do it.
As if reading her mind, Jeff took her hand, stilling it with his own. “Look. I’m no shrink, but I know that sooner or later you’re going to have to deal with what happened to you and your family.” He paused for a long moment before continuing, forcing her with his silence to meet his penetrating gaze. “But you get to say when.”
Caroline looked into eyes as deep and blue as the Caribbean and felt as though she were drowning.
She could protect herself against insult and injury. She even believed she could protect herself from the hired guns of an underworld mobster. But she hadn’t a clue how to defend herself against the caring and kindness she saw in his eyes. She looked away, saying nothing.
“If it would make you feel better,” he offered, “I’ll let you hit me with this book.”
She bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. “Don’t tempt me,” she said in as gruff a voice as she could muster. “Just give it back.” She reached across the table, but to her surprise, his hands snaked out and captured hers.
“In a minute,” he said, toying with her fingers. His thumbs brushed back and forth across her palms and a tiny shiver raced down her spine.
“Caroline, I’ve had a lot of time to think this morning, and I admit I’ve been a little…unreasonable.”
Her eyebrows soared in a skeptical arch.
“All right,” he amended. “A lot unreasonable.” He linked their hands, entwining his fingers with hers. “I’d like us to start over.”
Her breath caught in her throat and she dropped her head, studying their clasped hands. The contrast was striking, in texture and color and size. Compared to her own small, pale hands, his were large and strong and well tanned. Yet his fingers were tapered and elegant.
He released her hand and cupped her chin, tilting her face so she was forced to look at him. His eyes were dark and intent, and once again she was stunned by the tenderness she saw there.
“We can work this out,” Jeff said, “if we both bend a little. For instance, I’ll give up the house arrest.” He smiled and her heart did a slow roll in her chest. “We can go shopping, have dinner in one of the restaurants, even swim in the pool or the ocean as long as there are lots of people around.”
“And in return?” she asked uncertainly.
“In return, I wa
nt to know where you are at all times. You won’t go anywhere alone, and you won’t sneak out in the middle of the night.”
“No more handcuffs?”
“No more handcuffs,” he promised.
“Does that mean you trust me?”
Jeff shook his head. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he said slowly. “But frankly, I don’t want to have to break another spindle.” He gestured with his thumb in the general direction of the bed.
She followed his glance to the headboard and her mouth dropped open. “You broke the bed?”
“I had to,” he said. “I couldn’t reach the key.” He looked at her suspiciously. “Which reminds me, how did you get away?”
She shrugged. “I picked the lock.”
“You what? Where did you learn a stunt like that? And how is it you happen to carry a set of lock picks to bed with you?”
Caroline laughed. “My brothers taught me years ago.” She looked at Jeff pointedly. “I wasn’t born a spoiled little princess, you know.”
Jeff made a face, licked the tip of his finger and made a mark in the air.
“And, for your information,” she continued, “I don’t need a set of lock picks. I can use a hairpin, a safety pin…” She smiled and fingered one dangling pierced earring. “Even a fishhook earring.”
Caroline stood thigh-deep in the ocean, slowly dribbling water over her arms.
“I thought you wanted to go swimming,” Jeff grumbled.
“Well?”
“Well, you’ve been out here thirty minutes and you still aren’t wet.”
“I’m wet,” she protested. “Partly.”
“Barely.” Jeff watched her take two more steps until the waves lapped at her hips, licking skin the color of a pale apricot. His gaze traveled upward, taking in the curve at the slender waist…the long, graceful back…the high breasts filling the bikini top. He drew in a sharp breath as she stirred her hand through the water, stroking and caressing it like a lover. He closed his eyes, but couldn’t banish the image from his mind. He dived under the water, careful not to splash her, swam in a large circle around her, then came up beside her. He tossed his head, slinging his hair away from his face.