Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Elizabeth was shocked at her own audacity, yet in the back of her mind, she had been expecting something like this all along. Men had been chasing her, and she’d been worried they were still looking for her. Now, she wasn’t really surprised that one of them had caught up with her.
A horrible thought struck her. The man had come through the house, and Polly had been in there. Had she hidden from him, or had he found her? And what had he done to her?
She clenched her teeth, holding back the questions. Perhaps he hadn’t seen Polly, and she’d gotten to the phone to call 911.
Stalling for time, she said, “What if I still don’t know who I am?”
“We’ll find out if you’re telling the truth.”
The light behind the man changed, and she saw another figure standing there. Was it the other man who’d been chasing her in the car? Then he shifted to the right, and she saw it was Matthew Delano.
Her heart leaped—with relief and fear. Matthew had arrived, but what good would that do either one of them against a man with a gun?
She tried not to look directly at Mattand tried not to give away the factthat there was someone behind the man.
Matt was staring at her with intense concentration on his face, and she realized with a zing of recognition that he was trying to send her a message.
Mind to mind. They’d done that once before when they were touching. Now, he was ten feet away and struggling to do it again.
She strained to understand what he was trying to tell her. It was fuzzy. Half-formed, like a radio transmission that was full of static. She struggled to focus on the words while she kept her gaze on the man with the gun. Finally,words solidified in her head.
If you hear me, raise your shoulder. Then, drop to the ground.
As soon as she got the message, she did as he asked, raising her shoulder then dropping down.
“Wha …”
That was all the man said before Matt was on him, throwing him down where he stood.
The gun went off, a dampened sound as the guy fell. She dashed forward and lashed out with her foot, kicking him in the face. He screamed, and Matt grabbed his hair, lifting his head and smashing it against the concrete patio.
The guy went still, and Matt heaved himself up.
She turned to him. “What are you doing here?”
“I tried to stay away, but I couldn’t. Come on; we have to get going.”
“Where’s Polly?”
Matt’s expression turned grim. “I’m sorry. She’s dead.”
Elizabeth felt her chest go tight, hardly able to process the words. “Dead?”
“Yeah.” He paused for a moment before saying, “He shot her. The silencer kept you from hearing it.”
She moaned. “But …”
“I know; it’s awful, but we have to leave. Now.”
“Where are we going?”
“I don’t know. Away.”
He grabbed her hand, and she felt the familiar jolt of sexual awareness. Struggling to ignore it, she let him lead her into the house, but she stopped short when she saw blood trailing toward the laundry room. Following it, she found Polly lying in a crumpled heap in the doorway, a pool of blood under her.
“We were just talking about garden gloves,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry,” was all he could offer.
The reality of everything that had happened in the past few minutes jolted her.
“Did she fight him?”
“I can’t tell.”
He turned toward the wall phone, picked up the receiver, and punched in 911.
“What is the nature of your emergency?”
“There’s been a murder at 2520 Wandering Way,” he said, giving Polly’s address.
“Stay on the line and ...”
He hung up. “We can’t stay around.”
“But ...”
“We have to be out of here when the cops arrive,” he said with conviction. Picking up a dish towel, he wiped off the phone.
“You bought some clothes. Where are they?”
“Bedroom.”
He strode down a short hall and returned with the bag from the discount department store.
“Let’s go.”
When she couldn’t manage to move, he took her hand again, leading her out the front door and down to a car parked at the curb. In the distance, she could hear the wail of a siren.
As they climbed into the sedan and drove away, Elizabeth looked back over her shoulder.
“She was a nice woman. She was just trying to help me, and look what happened to her.”
He made a rough sound. “It shows what kind of men we’re dealing with.”
“We?”
“I’m not going to let you face this alone.”
She felt overwhelmed by the conviction in his voice. She had known him for only a little over twenty-four hours, but he was acting like she was important to him.
Acting? No. She was important to him—just as he was to her.
There was something drawing them together, something they didn’t understand. But to figure out what it was, they had to stay alive.
“I thought I was in trouble,” she murmured. “I had no idea how much trouble.” She sucked in a breath and let it out. “And I dragged you and Polly into it with me.”
“We both volunteered.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better about her lying dead back there.”
“Let’s make sure it doesn’t happen to us. Otherwise, she died for nothing.”
The words strengthened her resolve. “Where are we going?”
“I don’t know. But I don’t think we can risk my apartment.”
“Why?”
“They probably know I treated you. They could be looking for me, too.”
She gasped. “So you’re truly in trouble now. Not just me.”
“Not your fault.”
“Of course it is.”
“It’s the fault of whatever evil mess you stumbled into.”
He could put it that way, but it didn’t make her feel any better about Polly’s death.
He kept driving, putting distance between the Kramer house and themselves.
Finally, she focused on how he’d rescued her. “You sent me a message—mind to mind—and I got it.”
“Yeah. Lucky thing because I couldn’t risk hitting him when he had the gun pointed at you.”
“Telepathic communication,” she whispered.
“Probably, it only worked at that distance because it was an emergency.”
She would have liked to test the theory, but not now.
Glancing at him, she asked, “You’re leaving all your stuff in your apartment?”
“In Africa, I got into the habit of carrying essentials with me in case I had to get out of a tight spot in a hurry. I’ve got an overnight bag in the trunk.”
“Okay.”
She tried to stay calm as they drove toward the suburbs.
He stopped at an ATM and got a wad of cash, then stopped at another and got more.
“What are you doing?”
“I may not be able to use my credit card after this. I want to make sure I’ve got money.”
“Why are we running from the authorities?”
“Because we don’t know the situation. The cops could be in on it.”
“That’s a cynical way of thinking.”
“I learned to be cynical. And I think you agree.”
“Why?”
“Did you go to the cops when those guys were chasing you—or try to run away?”
“I guess I tried to run away.”
He put twenty miles between the murder scene and themselves before pulling into the parking lot of a motel chain.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back, and slump down in the seat so you’re not so visible.”
She didn’t question him as she slid down and watched him disappear into the lobby. He was back in under five minutes with a key card.
“I asked for a room away from the highway,” he said as he drove around to the back and pulled up in front of one of the units.
They both climbed out, and he unlocked the room. She’d held herself together in the car, but as soon as they were inside, she started to shake, leaning her shoulders against the door to stay upright.
“I’m … I’m sorry …,” she managed to say through chattering teeth.
“None of this is your fault.”
He reached for her, wrapping her in his arms, and it was the most natural thing in the world to mold herself to his rugged frame, letting her head drop to his shoulder.
He gathered her to himself, stroking his hand up and down her back.
She knew what he was thinking. He was cussing out the bastards who had put her—the two of them—in danger. And he was determined to figure out what the hell was going on.
But she felt his coherent thoughts—and hers—slipping away, overwhelmed by the sexual need zinging back and forth between them. It had been there from the first moment he’d touched her in the hospital, a doctor thinking he was going to do a routine exam and being shocked by the results. The connection between them was stronger now, no doubt jolted up by her fear and his concern for her.
“I shouldn’t,” he whispered. “I’m taking advantage of your situation.”
“Do you really believe that? I mean, you can read my mind.”
She had to keep from punctuating the comment with a hysterical laugh.
“Maybe not,” he admitted.
There was more she could say, but she chose to demonstrate her feelings—and his—with actions, not words.
Twenty-four hours ago, he’d been technically a stranger. But that was only technical. The connection between them was stronger than with anyone else she’d ever met. Since they’d first touched, she’d ached to be alone with him in a bedroom. And now they were here.
The moment their mouths collided; it was like an old-fashioned kitchen match striking a rough surface. Unbearable heat flared, and she knew there was no going back—if either one of them was going to retain their sanity. That was a drastic way to put it, but she understood that it was true. Her lips moved frantically over his, and he did the same, feasting from her as his hands slid up and down her back.
They kissed like two lovers at the end of the world who had thought they would never see each other again. Then, each of themstumbled around a corner and found the other standing there.
Joy flooded through her. After all the long, lonely years, she had found someone who …
She couldn’t even put it into words. All she knew was that she and this man were on the same wavelength, both drinking in the magical reality of being in each other’s arms and each other’s minds. It was so wonderful, except for the pounding in her head that she’d felt when they’d kissed in the shed, was back.
“What is it?” she murmured.
“The headache?”
“Yes. Could be something bad—and we’d better stop.”
“Or stopping is the wrong thing to do.”
He made a sound of agreement, anchoring them more firmly together as he deepened the kiss, angling his head to drink in everything he could.
His thoughts were there for her to read. He had wanted her for what seemed like centuries, and it was gratifying to hear that silent admission.
Her arms crept around his neck as she kissed him with an intensity she had never imagined. When he finally lifted his mouth, they both struggled to drag in a full breath.
He reached behind her, and she knew he was turning the lock, then slipping the safety chain into place.
They swayed as one, clinging together to keep from toppling over.
“You’re putting your trust in my hands,” he whispered.
“Who better?”
He must have read the invitation in her mind because he bent his head, stroking his face against her breasts, then turned to brush his lips against one of the hardened tips poking through her thin bra and the fabric of her tee shirt.
Just that touch made heat leap inside her, and she knew that she had to get the damn tee shirt and bra off.
She pulled the shirt over her head and reached to unhook her bra, tossing them onto the floor. By the time she’d finished, he’d pulled off his own shirt and flung it to meet hers.
Then he reached for her again, clasping her in his arms.
She cried out as her breasts pressed against his chest. The sensuality of his naked flesh against her took her breath away.
“I don’t think I can stand up much longer,” she whispered.
“Likewise.”
He slung his arm around her and led her to the bed, letting go of her to bend and pull the covers down.
Then they were horizontal, clinging together, rocking in each other’s arms.
He bent and swirled his tongue around one of her hardened nipples, then sucked it into his mouth.
Heat shot downward through her body, and she could only sob at the intensity of what she felt.
Yet the headache hovered at the edge of her pleasure.
“We could be heading for a cerebral hemorrhage,” he muttered.
“I don’t want to hear from Dr. Delano right now,” she said.
And she knew he was thinking that they’d gone too far to stop. Both of them.
To make that perfectly clear, she struggled out of her jeans and panties. As he caught her thoughts, he got rid of his remaining clothing. When they were both naked, he pulled her close again, making her cry out.
He slid his lips along the tender place where her hair met her cheek, dipping down to nibble along the line of her chin and then the side of her neck, before bringing his mouth back to her breast, taking one nipple into his mouth and drawing on her while his hand found its mate, using his thumb and finger to gently twist and tug, building her pleasure to fever pitch.
All her senses were tuned to him, to his masculine scent, the beat of his heart, the feel of his hair-roughened legs against her smooth ones.
Ripples of sensation flowed through her as his free hand slid down her body toward the hot, quivering core of her. Her hips moved in response, and she knew he was in her mind, sensing how good it was for her.
He rolled to his back, looking up at her.
“You set the pace.”
Maybe he still had a tiny sliver of doubt, and he was giving her the chance to back out.
She leaned over for a long, deep kiss, then raised her head so she could look down at him as she straddled his hips.
She felt the breath freeze in his chest as she lowered her body to his. She didn’t need to guide him into her. They both knew where to find the right place.
For a long moment, she stared down at him, overwhelmed by the intensity of her feelings. And his because she knew what he was feeling as well as reveling in her own overwhelming emotions.
And then she began to move above him, around him, her eyes locked with his.
There was no question of hanging on to control. The pace started off fast and grew more frantic as they both pushed for climax.
The pain in her head peaked, and then it was suddenly gone, as she took them both higher and higher and felt his hand pressed to her center to intensify her pleasure.
She came undone in a burst of sensation so intense that she lost herself for a moment, but she felt him follow her over the edge, his shout of pleasure echoing in the room.
As she collapsed against him, clinging tightly to him, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her where she was. And she was content to stay there for the next century.
Yet she couldn’t. In that surge of intimacy, everything had changed.
Far away, in Lafayette, Louisiana, Rachel Harper stopped in the middle of planting flowers around the cottage where she and her husband Jake spent part of each week when they weren’t in New Orleans. Rachel had a boutique there, where she read tarot cards. And Jake had several businesses, including restaurants and antique shops. The cottage was on a plantation that belonged to Gabriella Boudreaux, where three couples had established a small colony. They all had something important in common. All of them were telepaths who had found each other after years of loneliness. The latest to join the group were Stephanie Swift and Craig Branson. He’d rescued her from a local thug who’d made a deal with her father to settle his gambling debts in exchange for marriage with his daughter.
Recently, they’d been on the run from men who wanted to use them or destroy them. Now, they were living in safety and making a life for themselves. Their powers varied, but Rachel had a special ability—to send her mind over long distances. Because of that, she was always on the lookout for more couples who had hooked up. She wanted to offer them the safety she and Jake had found. Yet at the same time, she was always cautious about approaching anyone new because the first man and woman like themselves she and Jake had met had tried to kill them.
When she detected Stephanie and Craig, Jake was with her. Now, she was alone in the garden. Tension coursed through her as she looked around. When Jake didn’t come rushing out, she knew he hadn’t picked up on her sudden awareness that another man and woman had bonded. The other couple were far away. Somewhere on the East Coast, she thought, although she wasn’t sure of the exact location. But since she was the only one here who knew about them, she could keep the information to herself and decide what to do later