Kitabı oku: «Contract Bride», sayfa 3

Chapter Three

The moment Ethan Delaney had walked out of the tiny motel room, Jenn had started to pace. Nearly three hours later she had worked herself into a ball of nerves.

What was taking him so long?

She should never have allowed him to talk her into going along with this crazy idea. What had possessed her? She tunneled her fingers through her hair and huffed with exasperation. It was a mistake. She knew David too well. He would smooth-talk and manipulate until he uncovered the truth.

And then he would come after her.

Fear surged through her veins.

She should just get out of here now while she still could.

Jenn stalled in the middle of the room. She twisted her hands together and fought for composure. Where could she go? She had no money and nothing of real value left to trade.

Well, nothing except her body. She cringed. The motel clerk’s rude suggestions echoed inside her head. He’d offered to give her the room for free if she’d…

Jenn shuddered. She didn’t want to think about that. She would figure out a way to do whatever she had to without resorting to such desperate measures. If she could only go to the police. She sighed wearily. But she couldn’t. There were too many questions she couldn’t answer. David had set her up thoroughly. She had no way to prove who she was…no way to prove anything. And worst of all, no one even knew she was missing. Except a private investigator who really didn’t believe her.

She sank down onto the end of the bed. She’d been so stupid. How could she not have seen who David really was? She couldn’t say that she’d been head over heels in love with him or blinded by passion, but she had cared deeply for him, trusted him completely. She’d felt safe with David. Especially after her father had grown so ill. Lord knew he was fading fast. With no other family except her Uncle Russ who was even older than her father, David was all she would have when those two were gone. David and the children they planned to have together. What a fool she’d been.

Jenn dropped her head into her hands and cried for the first time since she’d watched her uncle die in her arms. Her chest ached with worry for her father. She might never see him again, never have the opportunity to say goodbye. She had to find a way to get back home before it was too late.

But David had stolen her life. She didn’t know how he’d managed it. She scrubbed the dampness from her face and shook her head. It was so…surreal. No one would ever believe her. And, to be honest, she found it hard to believe herself. How would she ever prove she was Jennifer Ballard? The only place her fingerprints or DNA were on file was at BalPhar. In all likelihood, David had already taken care of that. He was far too smart to allow such a simple mistake to ruin his master plan. Hadn’t she seen proof of that already? Her dentist’s office burning to the ground could not have been a coincidence. David had known that was the only other identifying source available to her outside the walls of BalPhar.

Ultimately it was her own fault that she didn’t have any other recourse. She had forgone a social life for as long as she could remember. She’d spent her entire existence either in school concentrating on her education, or in the lab with her father helping to develop some new drug or anti-viral serum. She had no friends, no one who could help her in any way.

Determined not to be undone by the likes of David Crane, she pushed to her feet, her frustration fueling her bravado. Well, she wasn’t about to sit around here feeling sorry for herself or waiting for David to send his henchmen to finish what they’d started.

She was out of here.

Reclaiming her unloaded gun that Delaney had left on the bedside table, she tucked it into the back of her waistband the same way she’d seen him do. It might be unloaded, but it was hers. There was always the possibility she could trade it for something of value. A bus ticket…or meal, she thought, striving for optimism. See, she mused, she wasn’t as bad off as she’d thought.

Squaring her shoulders, she headed for the door. The sound of a key turning in the lock stopped her dead in her tracks. She watched the knob turn and the door swing inward. She stumbled back. Oh God! Had David found her? Delaney should have been back long ago. What if they’d joined forces against her?

Her heart stopped completely during the endless second it took her brain to assimilate what her eyes saw.

Delaney.

He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. The size of the room diminished instantly around his towering frame.

“You’re back,” Jenn murmured the obvious and with a relief she couldn’t quite conceal.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Was there any question?”

She shook her head. “No. No. You’d been gone for a while and I was beginning to get a little concerned. That’s all.”

A little? Now there was the understatement of the century. She’d freaked out completely. And she never freaked out. Just another thing David had stolen from her…her self-confidence.

Delaney’s evaluating gaze lingered on her for far too long before he took another look around the room. “You weren’t planning on splitting on me now, were you?”

She blinked to shield the lie in her eyes, then moistened her incredibly dry lips. “Of course not. I was just anxious that’s all.” Her hands fluttered in the air as if she might be able to grasp an appropriate response there. No such luck. “I was pacing. You know, anxious.”

That dark gaze scanned the room for about three more seconds, then lit on hers once more. His suspicion was crystal clear. He’d noted the gun missing from where he’d left it on the bedside table. “Where’s the gun?”

Irritation lined her brow. “The what?”

“The gun,” he said, fury snapping in his brown eyes. “Where’s the handgun you traded your Rolex for?”

Instinctively, she backed up a step. “I…I don’t know. I thought you had it.” The bathroom. If she could make it to the bathroom, she could put the gun on the toilet tank and pretend it had been there the whole time. Then he’d never know she’d planned to make a run for it.

Before she could make a move in that direction his arm snaked around her waist and he had the gun in his hand. “I don’t like games, Miss Ballard,” he growled. “If I’m going to help you I have to be able to trust you.”

She couldn’t think…she couldn’t speak. He’d stolen her breath as easily as he’d taken the gun. His arm felt like a steel band, his massive chest like unyielding stone beneath her palms. That chiseled face was only inches from hers, a fierce scowl marring the undeniably interesting lines and angles there.

“Let me go,” she demanded the instant she found her voice. The command was a little shaky, but clear nonetheless. “And that’s Dr. Ballard,” she added when he failed to immediately release her. He wasn’t the only one who could intimidate. She might not have the physical strength, but she had other assets…like superior intelligence. She glared at him, hoping he could read her mind.

His arm fell away.

She scrambled back from his reach.

“Sit,” he ordered and inclined his head toward the bed.

The heart that had all but stilled in her chest a few moments ago now pounded erratically. She looked at the bed and then at him. What did he have in mind? A new kind of fear rushed through her. Surely a reputable agency like Victoria Colby’s wouldn’t allow their investigators to—

He exhaled an audibly frustrated breath derailing her thought. “Don’t worry, I’m not into frightened little girls. We need to talk. Just talk. Now sit,” he repeated, leaning nearer, ratcheting up the intimidation level.

Still reeling with the fight-or-flight impulse, she plopped down on the very edge of the bed. She hated this he-man, macho crap, but she didn’t have enough bravado left in her to put up a fuss about his calling her a frightened little girl. She’d show him. She was the paying customer after all. He was supposed to follow her orders. Furious, she braced her hands on either side of her, just in case she got another chance to make a run for it. If he’d told David she was here, she was dead. That was the bottom line.

“I met with Crane,” Delaney said, his voice neutral as he settled into the chair. He had no intention of giving anything away with his tone or his facial expressions. That much was evident.

“What did you find out?” She couldn’t keep the anxiety out of her voice despite the irritation she felt at his secretiveness. David Crane was the man who’d ordered her execution. She had a right to know everything.

Dear God, if he suspected…

“What did he say?” she demanded when Delaney didn’t respond quickly enough to suit her.

“He was calm and collected.” Delaney looked directly at her, watching, analyzing. “He never mentioned there was a problem or that you were even missing.”

Her throat constricted as fear rocketed to the fore-front. “He didn’t suspect why you were really there? You’re sure about that?”

“I’m positive.”

Jenn breathed her first sigh of relief in more than three days. “Thank God.”

“When I asked about you, he said you were in Boston on business.”

Ire pricked her. “Well, obviously he was lying.”

“Obviously,” Delaney parroted dryly.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Her fingers fisted in the faded floral bedspread. For the first time in her life she actually felt the overwhelming desire to hit something—or someone, to be specific.

“Look.” Delaney leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees. “We’ve got a problem here. You refuse to go to the police. That puts me in an awkward position since you can’t prove you’re who you say you are, and nothing appears to be amiss at your company—”

“Nothing amiss?” she echoed, surging to her feet. “How do I get this through that thick skull of yours? He thinks I’m dead. He ordered one of his cronies to execute me. I’m confident that he has every intention of hunting me down and finishing the job. I’ve only gotten by so far on borrowed time. He wants me dead.” She flung her arms wide. “What do I have to say? What do you want from me?”

“All I’m saying,” Delaney said calmly, “is that we need proof. You’re going to have to give me something more than this unverifiable story. Your uncle’s body hasn’t shown up, at least it hasn’t been reported in the media. There’s absolutely no evidence that anything has happened. If you’re afraid to confront Crane face-to-face, then we need evidence.”

“And how am I supposed to get that?” She started pacing again. This was insane. Unless she could get into the lab and find fingerprint or DNA sequencing that he hadn’t tampered with already, she was screwed. Delaney just didn’t know how badly yet. A face-to-face confrontation was out of the question. “I don’t have any ID,” she ranted. “I can’t go to the police. And David is covering for my absence in more ways than you know. The only proof that might exist is at BalPhar.” Could she tell him the rest now? Would he call the men in the little white suits if she dared?

He stood, disrupting the calm she’d managed to begin to recover. She tried to look strong, but probably didn’t.

“I’d like you to come back to Chicago with me. There’s someone I want you to see.”

This was bad. She had that feeling. The hair prickled on the back of her neck. Something heavy, pepperoni probably, settled in the pit of her stomach. That feeling that always warned her—had never failed her. Except once. Trusting David Crane had been the biggest mistake of her life and she’d had no warning at all.

Slowly she inched a step closer to the door. “I don’t know if going back to Chicago would be such a good idea.” Though technically BalPhar was north of Aurora, Chicago was too close for comfort right now. She had to have the Colby Agency firmly on her side first.

He recovered that same inch or two she’d lengthened between them. “I won’t let anything happen to you. You have my word.”

She knew a moment’s pause. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he really did want to help her. She had to start somewhere and her father trusted Victoria Colby. But how could she trust anyone ever again? Especially a man!

“Who is it you’d like me to see?”

The hesitation before he responded answered the next question before she even asked it.

“His name is Clarence Melbourne. Dr. Clarence Melbourne. The agency uses him from time to time.”

Fury ignited inside her. “What kind of doctor?” she demanded but she already knew. He’d told her without even mentioning a specialty.

“He’s a psychologist. I’d like him to do a quick evaluation just to be sure.”

She moved another step toward the door. “Just to be sure of what?”

He was closer now. Had he moved again without her noticing? She couldn’t be sure. She’d thought she’d managed to increase the distance between them, but somehow she hadn’t. Somehow he was closer.

“Think, Jennifer,” he said quietly, using her first name in an attempt to bring the discussion down to a more personal level. She knew exactly what he was doing. “We both want the same thing, to solve your problem. Your father would never have used the Colby Agency without checking us out first. I just need to be sure of you. Can you understand that? Just a few questions and a few minutes of your time. That’s all it will take. There’s nothing to be concerned about.”

The sincerity in those dark eyes almost convinced her.

“Can you do that for me?” he asked, the words barely more than a whisper.

Her fingers clenched around the doorknob behind her back. “I…I don’t know,” she stammered, buying time. “I thought we were supposed to be doing this my way. After all, I’m the customer. Isn’t the customer always right?” She prayed his voice when he responded would conceal the sound of the doorknob turning.

“You have to trust me, Jennifer. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

How could he sound so genuinely interested in her well-being? For one long beat their gazes held in a kind of wary dance. He’d made up his mind, just as she had.

He lunged at her.

She jerked the door open and flung herself across the threshold.

He yelled for her to wait…not to go outside. She ignored him. And ran like hell.

Which direction? her mind screamed. Right? No! Left. She ran harder. She could hear him right behind her. The gravel under her feet slipped and slid, making it difficult for her to gain purchase. She had to run faster.

Faster!

His arms went around her from behind.

She struggled, twisting around and kicking for all she was worth.

“Dammit! Stop fighting me,” he growled. “I have to get you back inside.”

“Let me go!” She pounded his chest. Grabbed at his hair. Still he wouldn’t let go.

Her heart pounded like a drum. She had to get away. He was going to take her back to Chicago. She couldn’t go back to Chicago. She kicked frantically as he carried her back toward the room. Her sneaker made contact with a shin. Another savage growl rumbled from the chest he had her plastered against.

Once he had her inside the room, he closed and locked the door then tossed her onto the bed. “Don’t move,” he warned, his tone deadly, his expression barbaric.

He glared at her. She tried to control her breathing, the ragged sound splintering the silence. Calm down, she told herself. But she couldn’t. Tears burned her eyes, but she fought them back. She would not cry. She would not cry!

She scrambled up onto all fours in the middle of the bed and glared back at the man standing between her and freedom. “You can’t make me go anywhere. I will find a way to get away from you. Besides,” she huffed, “it’s a free country.”

Something in his eyes changed. The metamorphosis was chilling. Ice glazed the surface of those dark coppery depths, glistening with danger. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up, little girl, if I were you.”

Her lips trembled. Ethan wanted to curse himself, long, loud and profusely, for allowing the situation to escalate almost beyond his control. Professionalism had gone out the window the moment he laid eyes on her. He should have stopped her before she made it to the door, much less outside. Whoever had followed him had no doubt seen her if they were still out there.

And he was pretty damned sure they were.

He still had no reason to believe Crane’d had him followed, but someone from BalPhar definitely had.

She was poised on her hands and knees in the middle of the bed, ready to run like hell the first chance she got. All that silky blond hair cascaded down her slender arms, making her look at once wild and untamable and frightened and innocent. He took a slow deep breath and counted to ten before he let it out. The instant tightening of male muscle that occurred when his gaze roamed her body made him want to kick his own ass. But it was looking at hers, encased in that snug denim, that was playing havoc with his objectivity. It would help if she didn’t look exactly like a sleek, sexy cat ready to pounce on the closest mouse.

He shook himself. What the hell was he thinking? She was a client and far too young for an emotionally burned-out guy like him to be ogling.

“Just stay put and we’ll work this out,” he placated. Careful not to take his eyes from her wary ones, he backed toward the window. “Just stay cool and we’ll talk about it, okay?”

She relaxed marginally. He saw the slightest softening of her rigid posture, but she said nothing. He was relatively certain that wasn’t a good sign.

Ethan parted the sixties-style drapes just a fraction and scanned the parking area. His SUV was the only vehicle in the lot, but that didn’t lessen his uneasiness.

The rustle of carpet behind him jerked him around at the same instant something crashed into the side of his head. The sound of cheap pottery breaking shattered the quiet of the room. His head spun wildly for a full three seconds after the table lamp made contact with the side of his skull. What remained of the lamp base and yellowed lampshade thumped to the floor.

Instinct kicked in before his equilibrium fully returned. He grabbed an arm, jerking her back when she would have run for the door again. “Don’t,” he said from between clenched teeth, his face mere inches from hers.

Her eyes were wide with equal measures of fear and fire. She was scared to death of him, but at the same time madder than hell. “I’m not going back until I can prove I’m telling the truth.” She flung the words at him, her chest rising and falling with her shallow, rapid breaths, her lips quivering.

“We can’t just stay here,” he stated bluntly as he set her away from him. A crazy mixture of emotions twisted inside him, undoing him as nothing else had before. He wanted to kiss her every bit as much as he wanted to shake her. It was completely unacceptable. Completely insane. “It might not be safe here anymore,” he added as soon as his brain caught up with his instincts.

She backed away from him, her narrowed gaze accusing. “Oh, God. They followed you.” She shook her head, huge tears turning those pale blue eyes liquid. “You led them right to me. They’ll kill me. I have to—”

Guilt welled inside him. “I told you I wouldn’t let anything—”

The ping of breaking glass ended the argument. The drapes shifted once, twice. Another ping. A muffled, but all too familiar splat.

Gunfire!

Damn.

Ethan flung himself in front of Jennifer, taking her down to the floor with him. His shoulder took the brunt of the fall, then he rolled her onto her back, careful of the broken lamp, so he could shield her with his body.

Six more hissing puffs echoed in the room. Hole after hole appeared in the plaster. The chair took a hit. Shards of glass scattered over the gold shag carpet. An engine roared. Tires squealed.

Silence abruptly reigned.

Ethan released a grateful breath.

They were finished for the moment.

Jennifer was shaking beneath him.

He went up on his hands and knees above her and gave her a quick visual examination. “Are you hit?”

She shuddered with the effort of holding back a sob. “No,” she managed. She tried to push up. “I’m all right.”

“Don’t.” He pressed her back against the floor. “I have to make sure it’s clear first.”

She nodded, though the prospect appeared to frighten her even more. “Be careful,” she murmured.

He didn’t take the time to analyze what sounded like worry. “Stay down,” he told her again as he shifted to a crouch and then to his feet.

She didn’t move as he eased toward the door. He leaned just past the edge of the window and checked the parking area again. Nothing. The shooters must have been waiting at the other end of the long row of rooms. The shooting had probably been a drive-by, but he had to be certain they were gone now.

And there was always the possibility that the motel clerk had called the police.

But it wasn’t likely. Not at this dump.

He opened the door an inch at a time. When he could slide his body through the gap he slipped out and down, hitting the ground in one swift, rolling motion, the gun leveled in a firing position.

Nothing.

Except the clerk peeking around the jamb of the office door. “What the hell was that all about?” he cried, his voice quavering.

Still scanning warily, Ethan got to his feet. “You don’t want to know.”

The guy shook his head frantically. “You’re right. I don’t.”

“Hey.” Ethan stopped him before he fled back to the safety of his puny oscillating fan and his soaps. The clerk peeked out once more, eyes wide with fear. “Did you see anything?”

He shook his head vigorously. “Didn’t see nothing.”

Ethan crossed his hands in front of him, allowing the gun to hold a prominent position. “You’re sure about that?”

“A dark blue or black car,” the clerk blurted. “That’s all. I didn’t see the license plate.”

“Which way did they go?”

He pointed in the direction of the interstate that led back to Chicago and to Aurora. Ethan figured as much. A dark blue sedan had followed him from BalPhar.

“You can prepare a bill for the broken glass and lamp,” Ethan told him. He didn’t bother to mention the holes in the wall, they blended well with the damage by previous tenants. “We’re leaving.”

The guy nodded. He looked faint with relief. “Good idea.”

Tucking the gun beneath his jacket, Ethan reentered the room. Jennifer was standing at the end of the bed, her arms folded over her slender middle. Anger glittered in her eyes.

Oh, hell. Just what he needed. More grief from her.

“So,” she demanded, tapping one foot for emphasis. “Do you believe me now? I’m fairly certain those were real bullets.”

“As opposed to pretend bullets?” he suggested overbearingly.

She made a disparaging sound and stomped her foot. “You know what I mean! Now, do you believe me?”

Despite his best efforts, one corner of his mouth lifted in a reluctant smile. “Let’s just say that I’m a lot more open to the possibility.”

THE LIMOUSINE’S cellular phone buzzed. David Crane snatched it up. “Crane,” he snapped. It was about time he received a report.

“We followed Delaney to a dump in Kankakee.”

“And?”

“She was there…waiting for him.”

The words reverberated inside David. That was not what he’d wanted to hear.

“I trust you’ll remedy the situation,” he said tersely. He despised incompetence. He hated cowardice even more. The man he’d trusted to do the job right had failed him and then lied to cover his inability to perform. A smile tugged at David’s lips. There was nothing to be done about that now since the man was already dead. One less loose end with which to concern himself. However, David would certainly have accomplished the act in a much slower and more fitting manner if he’d known then what he knew now.

“We’ll take care of it, sir.”

“There are other complications involved now,” he pointed out.

“I understand, sir.”

David cleared his throat to ensure that he had the full attention of the man on the other end of the line. “I’m sure you understand the consequences of failure.”

“I won’t fail.”

“Excellent.” David disconnected.

She had to die now.

He gritted his teeth. He wanted her dead.

Every moment she was alive put the whole project at greater risk…put him at greater risk. Though it disturbed him somewhat to have Ethan Delaney killed, it was unavoidably necessary. Delaney had saved his life back in Iraq. But David had returned the favor. Besides they weren’t in Iraq any more. They were in America and the war here was much more intense than anyone knew. There was so much more to gain here, thus more to lose. And no matter how bloody things got, David intended to win. Nothing or no one was going to get in his way. Delaney would be a formidable opponent, but that would not stop David.

“Is everything all right?”

David looked at the lovely woman at his side. The dinner gown she wore was exquisite. She looked absolutely beautiful wearing the elegant black dress, fully relaxed against the luxurious leather seat. Her long blond hair veiled her slender shoulders like a cape of pure silk. Those blue eyes peered up at him in complete awe. Yes. So beautiful and so perfect.

“Everything is perfect,” he told her.

She smiled. “Good.”

David draped an arm around his wife’s shoulders. Oh, yes. Everything was perfect now.

Nothing could stop him.