Witness on the Run

by Susan Cliff

  He took her mouth, again and again. His hands moved to her bottom, cupping her firm flesh and lifting her against him. His erection swelled at her belly and her unbound breasts flattened against the wall of his chest. She moaned, digging her nails in his skin. The heat between her legs became an intense ache. She’d never been this aroused before, and she desperately needed relief.

  “Please,” she said, biting his lip.

  He glanced at the open door. Either the threat of discovery was low, or he dismissed it as unimportant. Instead of taking his hands off her, he backed toward the weight bench and straddled it, pulling her on top of him. Her soft sex met his hard length. She gasped at the sensation. His mouth covered hers again, tongue thrusting.

  She moved her hips in a slow circle. His hands groped under her sweatshirt and found her bare breasts. He grunted in pleasure as his thumbs strummed over her nipples. She rocked faster, lost in sensation. There was no penetration or direct stimulation, but it felt too good to stop. Incredibly, she was close to orgasm.

  She broke the kiss, uncertain. He stared up at her with half-lidded eyes. Lifting her shirt, he placed his mouth over her breast. The combination of heat, moisture and suction almost sent her over the edge. She whimpered, trying not to grind harder. His erection throbbed against her. He was impressively built, which added to her excitement.

  But he seemed to know what she needed, even if she didn’t say the words. He gripped her hips and slid her along his thick length. She made a strangled sound of encouragement, her hips jerking. Her breaths came in short pants and her stomach quivered. She strained toward climax, beyond embarrassment. Waves of arousal crashed over her, drowning out everything. There was only this moment, pure and raw and physical.

  When she opened her mouth to scream, he thrust his hand in her hair and brought her lips down to his. She exploded in ecstasy, shuddering against him. He swallowed her cries with a thorough kiss.

  Then it was over. She stared at him in awe, her head spinning.

  “Wow,” she said, panting.

  The corner of his mouth tipped up. He was still unsatisfied, hard as a rock against her, his forehead lined with restraint. She slid off his lap like a wet noodle and moved into a kneeling position at his feet. He inhaled sharply, but he didn’t object. He wanted this. Taut desire was written all over his face.

  She wanted it, too. She wanted to touch him and kiss him and blow his mind. She untied the drawstring at his waist, giddy with anticipation. He stroked her hair softly. His hot gaze seared her parted lips.

  The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted the moment.

  His hand tightened in her hair. She froze, eyes wide.

  “Get up,” he ordered.

  She scrambled to her feet. There wasn’t a closet or a corner to hide in. She smoothed her sweatshirt and tried to look innocent. The intruder never arrived, thankfully. A door slammed at the end of the hall.

  “He’s in the men’s room,” Cam said. “Go now, before he comes back out.”

  She hesitated, reluctant to end their encounter. They’d just shared the most intense sexual experience of her life, and he hadn’t even removed any of her clothes! He’d given her an orgasm that made her see stars. She didn’t want to leave without returning the favor. She didn’t want to leave at all. But she also didn’t want to get caught, or land him into trouble. They couldn’t afford to attract attention.

  So she snuck out the door quietly. As she rushed down the hall, it occurred to her that she still wasn’t sure where she stood with Cam. They’d been interrupted before she could give him pleasure, and they hadn’t really finished their conversation. She’d accused him of deceiving her. He thought she’d done the same. They’d both been angry when they started kissing. But how did he feel about her now? His willingness to get physical didn’t indicate a future commitment, or any tender feelings.

  He knew she was a criminal, not just a victim. He was a former cop, not just a trucker. He might reconsider traveling with her. What if he took off without her tomorrow? She’d never see him again, and she couldn’t do anything about it.

  Her heart plummeted with distress. He might not have any tender feelings, but she did. She reentered the women’s quarters and slipped into bed. She stared into the dark for a long time, too anxious to sleep.

  Chapter 12

  Cam squeezed his eyes shut and attempted to regain control of himself.

  He hadn’t meant to take things so far. He hadn’t meant to touch her at all.

  When she’d appeared in the gym doorway, he’d been mulling over the information his brother had given him. Cam hadn’t wanted to listen to Mason’s advice in real time. But after he hung up, doubt had crept in.

  The world was a terrible place, full of terrible people. Cam knew that from experience. It was the reason he’d fled to Alaska. He couldn’t accept the circumstances of Jenny’s death. Someone had struck her with their car, critically injuring her, and driven on. They’d gotten away with murder.

  The trauma of this loss had darkened Cam’s soul forever. He wasn’t capable of optimism. He’d disconnected from his emotions. Emotions were pain, and he’d had enough pain. He preferred staying numb.

  Tala didn’t fit into the cold life he’d carved out for himself. She was too young and hot. She had too much baggage. She’d been arrested for assaulting an officer. Cops, even former cops with no faith in criminal justice, didn’t take such actions lightly. The fact that she’d fled the country was a bad sign. Innocent people didn’t do that.

  Cam hated it when Mason was right.

  He’d considered confronting her in the hallway, but the space hadn’t been private enough, and he didn’t want to attract attention. He also wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. He’d retreated to the men’s bunks, weighing his options. Maybe he shouldn’t interrogate her. Why should he delve into her problems? The less he knew, the better.

  They didn’t have to talk at all.

  After staring at the ceiling for an hour, he’d gone to the weight room to burn off steam. And wouldn’t you know it, Tala had walked in.

  She hadn’t come for a workout. Not with her hair falling in loose waves down her back. Not braless and heavy-eyed, her lips parted in invitation. She’d watched him lift weights hungrily. He didn’t mind her appreciation of his muscles or whatever, but he preferred being on the other side of the equation. Watching her.

  He couldn’t enjoy the show for long before he became uncomfortable. In some positions, her sweatshirt rode up, exposing her flat belly and slender rib cage. Her breasts shifted beneath the fabric, nipples taut. She raised her arms high, then bent over and dipped her head low. Her leggings clung to her curvy bottom like they’d been painted on. They also failed to disguise her natural shape in front. He could see the faint outline of her feminine cleft. It wasn’t polite of him, but his eyes kept dipping to that spot. He had to jump rope for twenty minutes to get rid of his raging hard-on.

  He’d believed her story about Duane. He felt himself getting sucked in again. Instead of demanding more answers, he wanted to wrap his arms around her and make everything better. The thought of losing his heart to her scared him.

  So he’d dropped that bombshell about being a cop. He had to tell her who he was. He’d turned his back on the law, but he still had a lot of respect for men and women in uniform. He wasn’t stupid, or naive. He was just broken.

  Somehow, he’d ended up kissing her. All roads seemed to lead in that direction for him. The argument got his blood pumping. He’d said something accusatory. She’d been defensive. Then they were all over each other.

  He hadn’t decided what to do with her yet. He was on the fence about...everything. Traveling with her. Sleeping with her. Letting himself feel again. He was tempted to lift her against the wall and go for it.

  He’d held himself in check, just barely. Three years of abstinence had wrecked hi
s self-control. There were certain lines he couldn’t cross. If he slid his hand into her panties and felt her wet heat, for example—that would be his breaking point. It would be like tasting the frosting on a cake he couldn’t eat.

  He wanted to eat the cake.

  So he didn’t touch her below the waist. He’d still managed to get her off, under the false assumption that he could walk away after she was finished. Wrong. The sight of her in the throes of orgasm had undone him. He’d almost come with her. Then she’d dropped to her knees, and he’d lost his mind.

  Maybe a stronger man could have said no. He couldn’t.

  He stayed on the weight bench after Tala left, breathing in and out. The stranger emerged from the bathroom and went back down the hall. Cam waited for several more minutes. His arousal didn’t abate.

  With a strangled groan, Cam got up and hobbled to the men’s room. It was empty. There were two shower stalls. He stripped down for a quick shower. His soapy hand brought some much-needed relief.

  He went to his room, crawled into a bunk and slept for six hours. The sleep of the dead, dreamless and deep.

  He woke at 5:30, feeling rested. He was used to long days and short nights during the ice-road season. Most of the other truckers were already up, milling around the restaurant. There was a special on ham and egg sandwiches. Cam ordered two, with coffee.

  While he sat at the counter, he watched the weather report. The temperature wouldn’t rise above zero, and it wasn’t even snowing. Welcome to Alaska. A short newsbreak followed the weather update. A ruddy-cheeked journalist in a heavy parka stood in front of yellow police tape on the side of the road.

  “A man’s body was found in this snowdrift on the outskirts of Willow last night,” she said, gesturing to the scene behind her. “The sheriff’s office hasn’t released a statement about the cause of death, but they are investigating this incident as a homicide. The victim hasn’t been identified. They believe he was killed elsewhere.”

  A chill traveled down Cam’s spine as the newscasters discussed the details. Willow was a small, quiet town, not a hotbed for violent crime.

  “First a missing woman, and now this,” the newscaster said. “We certainly hope the police find the answers they’re looking for.”

  The photo of Tala appeared on the screen, along with the number for the sheriff’s station. No mention was made of the alias she’d been using. They didn’t give a name at all. Cam wondered if his brother had clued them in about her true identity.

  If he hadn’t, he would now. Mason was a homicide detective. He wouldn’t hesitate to assist an investigation.

  It occurred to Cam that Tala might have fled the scene of a murder. She was in more danger than he’d realized. He glanced around the restaurant, cursing under his breath. He hoped no one had gotten a glimpse of her in the hallways. The two women she was rooming with weren’t in the crowd. He needed to get her out of here before someone recognized her as the missing waitress.

  There had to be a connection between Tala and the homicide victim. She was probably a person of interest in the investigation. Maybe she’d witnessed the crime—or been an active participant.

  What if the dead man was Duane? What if he’d attacked her at the diner, and she’d killed him in self-defense? She’d been rattled and half-frozen when Cam had found her. She looked like she’d seen a ghost. He didn’t know how the body had ended up in a secondary location, or who the other men following her were. There were a lot of things Cam didn’t know, because Tala hadn’t told him.

  He should have tried to get more answers from her last night, but he’d lost focus the instant his lips touched hers. Instead of wringing the truth out of her, he’d wrung an orgasm. He couldn’t say he regretted it, either. She had a powerful effect on him. Whenever she was near, his thoughts turned to sex.

  Cam smothered a groan of self-derision. He was glad he didn’t have cell service. Mason would be blowing up his phone with frantic texts.

  Cam needed to talk to Tala before he decided what to do next. His first instinct was to protect her, not himself. He refused to put his own safety above hers. He didn’t care about her arrest record. He didn’t care about the risks involved. What he cared about was getting her out of Coldfoot, and into his bed.

  It wasn’t smart to be this obsessed with having her. He realized he was traveling down a slippery slope, throwing caution to the wind. But damn if it didn’t feel good to make bad decisions once in a while. It felt good to pursue a desirable woman, after years of denying himself pleasure. He wasn’t the same man he used to be, because her possible involvement in a homicide didn’t dissuade him. If anything, it added an extra rush of excitement.

  When his breakfast sandwiches were ready, he left the restaurant and went to Tala’s door. She answered his quiet knock in seconds. Her hair was neatly braided, her face solemn. She already had her backpack on.

  “Morning,” he said.

  She closed the door behind her. “I’m sorry about last night. I’ll make it up to you.”

  He wasn’t sure what she was talking about, but they didn’t have time to chat. He had to get her out of here and back on the road. As they walked by the front desk, he put his body between Tala and the clerk to shield her from view. Bitter cold enveloped him in the parking lot. He grasped Tala’s elbow and headed toward Ice Storm.

  Her expression indicated distress, which concerned him. As much as he wanted this thing between them to be purely physical, it wasn’t. He unlocked his truck and opened the door for her. Then he climbed behind the wheel, studying her face. She looked close to tears.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I was afraid you were going to leave without me.”

  He started the engine to let it warm up. Had she overheard the news report, and assumed he’d ditch her? “Why would I do that?”

  “Because of my criminal record,” she murmured. “Then we...you know, and we didn’t finish. I mean, I did, but you didn’t.”

  He gave her a curious glance. She didn’t know about the homicide investigation. Cam decided not to bring it up. He had no idea how she’d react. “You thought I’d leave you stranded in the middle of nowhere because you came and I didn’t?”

  She nodded.

  He didn’t know whether to laugh or feel insulted. Her husband had been a real piece of work. He’d made her assume that all men were selfish and cruel. Cam hoped that Duane Laramie was the human Popsicle from the snowbank, frozen forever in hell. If he wasn’t, Cam would like to send him there.

  “I didn’t mind. I enjoyed it.”

  Her brow furrowed. “You did?”

  “Of course.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather it be...mutual?”

  He shrugged. “There’s no crime in giving without taking. Haven’t you ever done that?”

  “Yes. Too often.”

  “Every time?”

  She looked out the foggy window, not answering.

  “For the record, I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye. And one orgasm is hardly worth keeping tabs on. When I make you come five or six times in a row, we can start worrying about me getting mine.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “You’re kidding, right?”

  He smiled, checking his gauges. He wasn’t kidding. He was exaggerating a little, but he didn’t doubt he could satisfy her. They had good chemistry. Rhythmic stimulation wasn’t rocket science. Maybe her husband hadn’t bothered to learn the basics, but Cam knew his way around the female body. Even so, he shouldn’t be making any promises. He should be thinking about how they were going to get out of this mess. She couldn’t run forever. He had to convince Tala to turn herself in before the law—or worse—caught up with her.

  There were hundreds of miles between Coldfoot and Deadhorse, which led to Prudhoe Bay. They’d be together all day. Over the next ten or twelve hours, he’d find a way to
get some answers from her. But he also had to tread carefully. She wouldn’t be easy to interrogate. She had a fiercely independent streak, and she didn’t trust law officers. She panicked every time he mentioned calling the police. She’d need a lot of convincing before she cooperated with an investigation. And she wouldn’t be pleased to discover that he’d asked his cop-brother to do a background check on her.

  He winced, massaging the nape of his neck. He couldn’t change what he’d said to Mason. Cam regretted the deception, but not the actions.

  They ate breakfast and drank coffee in silence. He enjoyed her company, as always. She had a quiet strength about her, even during moments of stress. He liked her voice, when she chose to speak. Her words carried weight, like her smiles. He wondered if he’d ever learn the truth about why she was running. She might refuse to talk to him. She might bolt at the first sign of trouble. His chest tightened at the thought.

  “Maybe I should stay in Prudhoe Bay,” she said out of the blue.

  “Why would you do that?”

  “If they’re desperate for workers, it’s not a bad idea. I could apply at one of the hotels.”

  “With what ID?”

  She avoided his gaze. “Not every employer requires ID. Some people get paid under the table.”

  He knew what kind of job she could get “under the table,” and he didn’t approve. She’d have to make some seedy arrangement with a stranger who wouldn’t have her best interests in mind. There were predatory men in Prudhoe Bay who’d take her up on any offer. Rough men who’d left civilization behind. Lonely men, like Cam.

  “You’re frowning,” she said.

  He touched his forehead to confirm her claim.

  “You don’t think I can find work?”

  “That’s not the problem.”

  “What is?”

  “Prudhoe Bay is about 95 percent men.”

  “Walt’s Diner catered to truckers. Mostly men.”