Dying for You, page 14
MORNING SUNLIGHT brightened the sky and warmed the earth. Lucie wasn’t sure how long they had been trapped under the Jeep, keeping their attacker at bay. Apparently, he had an unlimited supply of ammunition because he had wasted a lot of it shooting up the Jeep. He had taken cover in a nearby ditch, which acted as a protective barrier, all but making it impossible for them to hit him. He had effectively kept them pinned down, confined to this one position for quite some time.
“He’s got enough ammo to wait us out, so we can’t just stay here and do nothing,” Sawyer whispered. “I want you to swap weapons with me.” He held out his M16 for the exchange.
She eyed him questioningly, then handed him her pistol and took the rifle. He shoved the gun under the back waistband of his pants. “I’m crawling out the other side and going into the woods. You keep him busy concentrating on the gunfire coming from here. I’ll try to circle around and sneak up on him and take him by surprise.”
As Sawyer began scooting away from her, she grabbed his hand. “Be careful. Don’t go getting yourself killed.”
“I don’t intend to.”
She waited until he emerged on the other side of the Jeep, still crawling, and then she opened fire on their attacker. Too busy keeping the enemy focused on the firepower under the Jeep, she didn’t watch Sawyer as he disappeared into the forest. All she could do was pray that he got away.
After several minutes, she stopped firing and waited. The guy got off another couple of rounds, then he, too, settled back into a waiting position behind his barricade.
And then she saw Sawyer coming out of the woods behind their attacker. He walked with deadly quiet, stealth movement his only hope of a surprise attack. Lucie kept the M16 aimed and ready.
Just as Sawyer slid into the ditch and up behind the man, he lifted his right hand and raised his left arm, bending it at the elbow. Lucie opened fire, drawing the man’s attention, but she was careful to aim away from Sawyer.
Reaching around from behind, Sawyer covered the man’s mouth and jerked him back, then used his left hand to strike the guy’s neck. The man fired his gun repeatedly, most of the bullets peppering the air, until Sawyer took him down to the ground and used a choke hold on him. Struggling to free himself, the guy released his grip on his weapon.
Lucie held her fire.
Her heartbeat thundered in her head. Perspiration dampened her face and trickled between her breasts. She couldn’t see what was happening because both Sawyer and the other man were in the ditch.
The sound of a single shot rang out in the morning stillness, echoing through the jungle. Lucie gasped. Holding her breath, she waited, her gaze glued to the ditch.
Less than a minute later, Sawyer stood and crawled up and out of the ditch and onto the road. Thank You, God! Lucie scrambled out from under the Jeep, lifted herself to her feet and broke into a run. When she met Sawyer in the road, she skidded to a halt.
“Are you all right?” she asked, looking him over from head to toe.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
She nodded toward the ditch. “Is he dead?”
“Yeah, he’s dead.”
She glanced at the bullet-riddled Jeep. “I guess we’ll be walking.”
“You guessed right.”
He pulled the recently used pistol from his waistband and handed it to her. She eyed it for half a second, nodded and then exchanged weapons with him.
“We need to get moving,” he told her. “Geoff’s probably waiting for us and wondering what’s held us up.”
SEVERAL HOURS LATER, Lucie and Sawyer reached their destination. The dilapidated plantation house stood on a weed-infested rise, the grass thigh-deep surrounding the two-story structure. The front side of the roof had caved in and the once whitewashed stucco was now a weathered cream. They circled the house, cautious and vigilant, taking no chances that they might be walking into an ambush. As far as they knew, there had been only four guards, but it was possible the guy that Sawyer had killed might have been able to put in a call for reinforcements before they showed up. It was also possible that something had gone wrong on Rita’s end and she wasn’t waiting for them, ready to whisk them to safety out of the country.
As they made their way toward the back where the remnants of a patio and garden were now barely recognizable, a plump, dark-haired woman in tan pants and shirt, with a rifle slung over her shoulder, emerged from the interior of the house.
“That’s Rita,” Sawyer told Lucie. He threw up his hand and waved.
“I don’t see Geoff.”
“He should already be here. Could be he’s resting inside.”
Rita approached, her black eyes filled with concern. “I was beginning to worry. I thought perhaps you weren’t able to rescue Senorita Bedell.” Rita sized up Lucie, taking stock of her five-eleven frame and unruly mass of curly auburn hair.
“I know I must look like a drowned rat,” Lucie said. “We got caught in that rainstorm early this morning.”
Rita nodded. “You look alive. That’s all that matters.” She glanced from Lucie to Sawyer. “Senor Monday is not with you?”
“No,” Sawyer said. “Then he’s not here?”
Rita shook her head. “I have not seen him.”
Sawyer cursed under his breath. “He should be here by now.”
“You think something happened to him, don’t you?” Lucie grabbed Sawyer’s arm.
Frowning, he threw off her hand. “He’s in trouble. Otherwise, he’d already be here.”
“We need to find him,” Lucie said. “We can’t leave Ameca without him.”
Ignoring her completely, Sawyer turned to Rita. “She’ll stay here with you. I’m going to find Geoff. If I’m not back in an hour, get her to the chopper and—”
“No,” Lucie cried. “I’m not leaving here without you.”
He whipped around and glared at her. “You’ll do what I tell you to do. This is no time for you to be stubborn. For once in your life…” He didn’t finish the sentence. “I’ll find Geoff and if we don’t leave on the chopper with you, Rita will come back for us.”
She eyed Rita. “Is he lying to me?”
“As soon as I put you on the helicopter, I will come back here and wait for them,” Rita said. “I promise.”
When Sawyer turned to leave, Lucie grabbed his arm again. He glanced over his shoulder. “Be careful.”
His gaze narrowed as he gave her a hard look. Without saying a word, he walked away, heading back into the forest again.
Rita came up beside Lucie and patted her on the back. “He is your man, yes?”
A lump of emotion lodged in Lucie’s throat, making it impossible for her to speak. In her heart, Sawyer was her man. He always had been and always would be.
“It is good to have a man love you so much that he is willing to die for you,” Rita told her.
He doesn’t love me. He hates me.
But he came with Geoff to rescue me. He didn’t send someone else and he could have. If he didn’t still care about me, why would he have risked his life to save me?
CARA EASED OPEN the bedroom door and tiptoed into the living room. Every morning since they had been at the cabin, Bain had awakened first and usually had finished showering and shaving by the time she got up. But this morning, he was still asleep on the sofa, which was really too small for a man of his size. If he wasn’t such a stubborn jackass, he could be sharing her bed. There was nothing she wanted more than for Bain Desmond to make love with her.
Why had she fallen in love with one of the few men on earth who was bothered by the fact that she was a billionaire? Most men would have loved having a rich wife. But not Bain. If she were simply a successful businesswoman who made more money than he did, that wouldn’t bother him. But her kind of wealth scared him.
She crept closer and closer to the sofa, then leaned over and stared at him. He was tall, dark and handsome, but he wasn’t a pretty boy like Gray. His features were sharply chiseled, as if cut from stone, his cheekbones high and sharp, his nose hawkish and long, his mouth wide and sensuous. And his broad, bronze chest was matted with thick, dark hair. She longed to touch him, to rake her fingers through that black thicket on his chest, to nuzzle against his darkly tanned neck, to lie in his muscular arms.
Every nerve in her body tingled as arousal spread from her feminine core. She dropped down on her knees beside the sofa. Wondering if he slept in the raw or in his shorts—as a matter of fact, she didn’t even know if her wore boxers or briefs—she grasped the edge of the blanket that lay across him midchest and slipped it down ever so gradually. Just as she dragged it below his waist, his right hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. She yelped as if she’d been shot.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He opened his eyes and stared at her.
“Checking to see if you wear briefs or boxers,” she admitted.
Keeping a tenacious hold on her wrist, he kicked at the blanket until it fell off him and onto the floor. Before she caught more than a glimpse of his brightly colored pajama bottoms, he yanked her down on top of him. The moment she landed against him, he released her wrist and ran his hand down her spine and caressed her butt.
She felt his sex, hard and ready, straining against her mound.
“Bain?”
“It’s not going to happen,” he told her.
“Why not? You want me. I want you.”
“I want you too damn much,” he confessed. “It’s driving me crazy being cooped up here with you twenty-four-seven.”
She snuggled against him. He growled. She kissed him on the mouth. He grabbed her waist and tried to lift her off him, but when she kissed him again, he slid his hands down and cupped her buttocks.
“It would be so good,” she said. “You know it would.”
He returned the kiss, taking charge. Leaving one hand stroking her butt, he lifted the other to the back of her head and pressed her into the kiss, his tongue lunging deep inside. They devoured each other.
She ached for him, longing for him to take her completely. Whimpering with desire, she urged him to move things to the next level, but just when she thought she finally had him to the point of no return, he halted and shoved her up and off him. Then he brought her with him when he came up off the sofa.
He held her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. “You don’t play fair, sugar.”
“Haven’t you heard, all’s fair in love and war,” she said breathlessly.
“It won’t work between us,” he told her. “God knows I wish it could, but it can’t.”
She pulled free of his grasp, moved back a few steps and took a deep breath. Then she studied him, from the top of his dark head, down his hairy chest and on to the—My God! He was wearing white pajama bottoms with red and blue firecrackers exploding in sparkling sprays of yellow light all over them.
Cara giggled. “Where on earth did you get those?”
“The same place I bought your lovely gown,” he said, sizing her up in the knee-length, lavender cotton gown covered with huge purple flowers. “Some dollar store off the interstate between here and Chattanooga.”
She twirled around, giving him an early morning fashion show. “I don’t have on any panties.”
He huffed loudly. “Yeah, I figured that out when I was patting your butt.”
Okay, so she’d lost this battle, but that didn’t mean she would lose the war. Sooner or later, she would wear him down and in a vulnerable moment…
No, she didn’t want it to happen that way. She wanted more than just a one-night stand and so did he. And that was the problem.
“Do you know how to make pancakes?” she asked.
He lifted a curious brow, as if not quite trusting her. “Yeah, I know how. Why?”
“Do we have the ingredients for pancakes?”
“I bought a box of mix and a bottle of syrup. They’re in the cupboard over the sink.”
“Would you teach me how to make pancakes this morning?”
“Sure. After we’ve both showered and gotten dressed.”
“Oh, shoot. I was thinking we’d strip off naked and—”
He turned her around and swatted her on the behind. “Go take a shower while I put on a pot of coffee.”
When she stopped at the bathroom door, she turned and looked at him. “You know I love you and nothing is ever going to change that fact.”
Before he could respond, she hurried into the bathroom and closed the door. She shut her eyes and said a silent prayer.
Please, God, there has to be a way for Bain and me to be together. Nothing is impossible for You. Would it be wrong for me to ask You for a miracle? Just a little miracle. I want to be Mrs. Bain Desmond. I want to spend the rest of my life with that rugged, stubborn, Chattanooga cop out there.
RITA CHECKED her watch and then scanned the area at the back of the plantation house where she and Lucie were waiting.
“How long?” Lucie asked.
“Fifty minutes.”
Where was Sawyer? Had he found Geoff? If so, why weren’t they back by now? Please, Lord, don’t let Geoff be dead.
“You know that in ten minutes, we must leave,” Rita told her.
Lucie nodded. “I know, but…”
“You will do as Sawyer asked and not give me any trouble, yes?”
“Yes. I’ll do what Sawyer told me to do and we’ll leave in ten minutes.”
The last thing she wanted was to leave without Sawyer and Geoff. But she would follow orders.
She could hear Sawyer’s voice inside her head. This is no time for you to be stubborn. For once in your life…
For once in her life, what?
For once in your life do what I tell you to do. For once in your life don’t dig in your heels and refuse to see reason. For once in your life don’t fight me every inch of the way. For once in your life be reasonable.
The final ten minutes ticked by quickly, far too quickly.
“We need to go,” Rita said.
“Please, couldn’t we wait just five more minutes?”
Rita frowned. “You promised Sawyer that you would—”
“Oh, God!” Lucie saw two men coming slowly toward them, one halfway carrying the other. “It’s them. Sawyer found Geoff.”
She and Rita, both armed, ran toward the men. When she was only a few feet away, Lucie realized that Geoff was wounded. Badly wounded. A mix of dark, dried blood and fresh red blood stained his shirt. He was sweating profusely and could barely manage to stand.
“We need to get him to a hospital,” Sawyer said. “He’s lost a lot of blood and—”
“I’ll get my car and bring it back here,” Rita said. “We’re not far from the helicopter.”
While Rita hurried away, Lucie rushed over and helped Sawyer place Geoff on the ground. Kneeling beside Geoff, Sawyer ripped open his bloody shirt and removed the soaked bandage. “We need to stop the bleeding. He can’t afford to lose any more blood.”
Lucie grabbed the edge of her full skirt, the one she had bought on her shopping spree with Cara, and ripped off the tattered ruffle. She tore it into three pieces and folded each piece into a thick wad, then swiped Geoff’s wound with one of the rags. He groaned and mumbled a string of curse words.
Rita brought her car to a screeching halt, opened the door, jumped out and rushed over to them. She carried a half-full bottle of whiskey in her hand.
“Here, use this to sterilize the wound.” She handed the bottle to Sawyer.
“I’ve called ahead and there’ll be a doctor waiting when you cross the border. He’ll go with you and there will be an ambulance waiting when you reach Barbados. Come. We will take him to the car and put him in the backseat.”
Lucie used the other pieces of her torn skirt as a makeshift bandage to cover Geoff’s wound; then she and Sawyer lifted him to his feet and soon realized that they would have to carry him. By the time they had him laid out in the back of Rita’s car, he was unconscious. Lucie crawled in the rear, lifted Geoff’s head and placed it in her lap.
Sawyer slid into the front seat beside Rita, who put the gears into Reverse, backed up and slammed her foot on the gas pedal. The old car took off like a rocket and zoomed around the house and onto the gravel road that would take them to where the helicopter waited.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DEKE BRONSON GLANCED from Bedell VP Grayson Perkins to Cara’s former stepmother, Patrice Bedell, who had flown into Chattanooga once Gray had phoned to tell her that Cara had been kidnapped. Why the son of a bitch had gone against Deke’s orders to keep the kidnapping under wraps, he didn’t know. Perkins had told him that since Patrice was family, she had a right to know about her stepdaughter’s predicament. Deke suspected that both Gray Perkins and Patrice were licking their lips at the prospect of Cara not making it back alive and their inheriting part of the sizable Bedell fortune. Perkins professed his undying love for Cara, but even she knew that, first and foremost, the man loved himself. Since Cara had repeatedly turned down his marriage proposals, Perkins had to know that he wasn’t getting his hands on her money that way. And Deke seriously doubted that Cara had left a considerable amount of money or Bedell stock to either her former brother-in-law of her stepmother. Of course, they probably intended to contest the will. They were a worthless, greedy pair.
Okay, so maybe his judgment of Perkins was a bit harsh and maybe the guy had some real feelings for Cara, but he figured that his love for money outweighed his love for Cara.
As for Patrice—even Cara had suspected there had been some hanky-panky going on between Patrice and Perkins, possibly even before Cara’s sister Audrey had died and while their father had been alive.
“If one word about Ms. Bedell being kidnapped leaks out, I’ll hold you personally responsible,” Deke said.
“Mr. Bronson, are you forgetting to whom you’re speaking?” Perkins tilted his nose haughtily, his expression implying indignation. “I am your superior. I have the authority to fire you.”
“No, sir, you do not. Only Ms. Bedell has that authority.”
“In her absence—”
“You oversee Bedell, Inc. on a temporary basis, but you do not oversee Bedell Security. I do.”
