A Christmas Kiss (17 page)

"Oh, this one, Joey, she's spirited. She
likes
the gators."

Joey's only answer was an easy laugh.

"You think we're kidding, don't you? When you go back to the city, you look in the old newspapers.

May 12, 1995.

Four tourists attacked and eaten by the swamp gator. They sent bounty hunters from Florida and Texas to get that big ole granddaddy gator. But he was too smart for them. He took the fattest tourist down to his den up under an old mud bank and he held on to him for days, until all the hunters gave up and went home. Then he came up and got him some sun. You watch for him. He's snoozin' on a little piece of land, waitin' for the next boatload of careless tourists."

Cori couldn't help chuckling. Aaron was a lively storyteller. But alligators or not, she found that she felt perfectly safe with Joey and Aaron once she adjusted to the boat. What was troubling her was that she had no idea which way land might be. They had slipped into the dark water, and there was nothing but the trees, each looking exactly like the last. "I hope you guys know where we're going."

"If she pulls out a map, Joey, I'm going to throw her overboard."

"No maps, Aaron. No maps and no directions. We're playing this strictly by ear."

Joey's serious tone dampened the banter as Aaron notched the motor up to a higher speed and they skimmed the glassy black water that was patterned with a reflection of the stars.

The cabin was built on pilings, a construction that Cori found strange and charming. At the small dock, Aaron handed out their bags while he remained in the boat. "You sure you want the car left back at the levee?"

Cori heard the doubt in Aaron's voice.

"Positive." There was
no
doubt from Joey. His plan was made.

"I put three shotguns in the house. I know you wanted the rifle. It's there, too. But the shotguns, you don't have to be such a good shot, you know?"

"Thanks, Aaron."

"I also brought your fiddle. And a tape player. There's food and firewood." He didn't want to leave.

"Maybe I should see about that wood. Maybe it's not dry like it should be. You never were much at making a fire."

"We'll manage." Joey reached into the darkness and grasped his friend's shoulder. "Bring them when they come, Aaron, but be careful. Remember how we planned it."

"I'm not likely to forget to duck to save my own hide." ' "Do it just like we planned."

"How many, you think? Three, four?"

"Three. I think it'll be three of them."

"Maybe Kevin should come stay with you. That's two against three. Better odds."

"Don't tell Kevin. Not anything, okay?"

Aaron hesitated. "If your butt gets blown to bits, Kevin's gonna hold it against me."

Joey tightened his grip. "I'll be fine. Just do it like we planned."

"Okay." Aaron took the boat line Joey threw him. "Later, man."

"Later, Aaron." Joey waved goodbye, though his gesture was swallowed by the darkness.

Standing on the dock, Cori had listened intently to the exchange. Their mutual affection was clear.

"Why are you risking your friends?" she asked.

"Your life is at stake, Cori. And because I can trust them." Joey picked up the bags and led the way to the stairs. "Aaron is smart. I can rely on him."

He opened the door, which was unlocked. "There's not any electricity," he warned her. "Let me light a lamp."

Cori felt him leave her side, but she stood still, unable to see anything. She heard the match and watched the flame bloom, revealing a room that was unpainted. The walls and ceilings were made of beautiful natural wood.

Joey lit a hurricane lamp that did a fair job of illuminating the room.

"Won't they see the light?" she asked, wondering if Joey was deliberately baiting a trap for the killers.

"Not tonight. They can't possibly find us here without Aaron's help. Tonight is a bonus from the gods, a measure of safety." He walked toward her, catching her gaze. "You can rest here, Cori. Tonight, I'll keep you safe."

"This is wonderful," she said, trying hard to ignore the thump of her heart that his words produced.

Realizing how silly she sounded, she added, "I only wish we could have come here under different circumstances."

Joey turned suddenly to face her. The lantern cast his face into angles and planes. "What circumstances would you want, Cori?"

The seriousness of his question gave her pause. Did she dare to answer him honestly? She had to.

After everything he'd risked, she owed him that. She owed herself that. Somewhere in a very short span of time, the shy, painfully timid and insecure Brently Gleason had disappeared. She had become someone new. After two horrible years of trying, Cori St. John had finally grafted and taken hold.

"I would like it if you had invited me here so we could be alone."

Joey felt his body react to her statement. He reacted to everything about her, the way she stood, saying words he'd hardly allowed himself to dream he'd ever hear from her. But there was one thing he had to ask. One question that had to be brought out in the open between them before they both made a mistake that could ruin everything for them.

"What about Kit?"

"He's alive. I believe that with all of my heart." She knew she sounded bitter, but she had no reason to hide her feelings from Joey. He knew the worst about her marriage to Kit. He had seen her for the fool she'd been, and he had never implied by word or gesture that he thought less of her because she had given her heart to someone so callous. "Kit isn't the man I married." She hesitated, trying to shape her thoughts and words clearly. "That Kit never existed." She bit her bottom lip. "Whoever he really is, I don't feel I owe any allegiance to a stranger."

"You have to be sure." He forced himself to say it. He wanted only to pull her against him, to hold her close and feel the silk of her hair against his lips. But she had to be absolutely sure.

"I want to find Kit. So I can divorce him. That wasn't my original intention, but it's what I'm left with. And this has nothing to do with you, Joey. My feelings for you are aside from the past." She didn't wait for him to reach for her. She walked into his arms and lifted her hands to his face.

Joey's hands circled her waist, then slid to her back. Pressing her against him, he could feel the beat of her heart all the way through her, a rhythm that matched the beat of his own. "You're in a vulnerable position now." He eased away from her so that he could look into her eyes. "And so am I."

A terrible thought struck Cori. She had taken it for granted that Joey was not involved. But she had not asked him, she had only assumed. "Is there someone else?" she asked.

"No. Laurette was telling far too much of my personal business." He kissed her forehead. "And Jolene was predicting my future."

"Do women always fall in love with you?" The question was teasing, but there was a hint of concern in it. "My sister and a woman who lived a life of desperation until I gave her a hand? That's not exactly a harem." His fingers moved over her back, sculpting her shoulder blades and the smooth muscles that covered her ribs and narrowed at her waist. She was firm yet rounded, her skin warm through her sweater.

Cori felt her body yield to his exploring touch. Nothing had ever felt so right. She let his fingers press her against him, her arms lifting to wrap around his neck and to draw him down to her lips. He was so tall, so undeniably masculine.

All of the fears that had held her in limbo for the past two years were seared away by her desire for him. They had no future together. If she lived to testify, she would be gone, placed anew in some city with another name and another identity. The only thing they had was the night, a string of iridescent moments that were shaped by touch and sensation.

His hands lifted her, pulling her up his body until their lips touched. Cori opened to his kiss and, in that second, cut herself free from her past and her future.

For the rest of the night there was only each other.

The sound of the boat motor brought Joey upright. Beside him, Cori tried to blink reality back into place. Joey's abrupt movement had shaken her from a cocoon of warmth and security and total peace.

Waking up to the look of concern on his face was as effective as a slap. "What is it?"

"Someone's coming." Joey found his pants and his gun. Barefoot, he stepped across the worn boards of the floor to check from behind the window shade.

Outside the cabin was a world of fog. Rising out of the dense mist, the cypress trees that grew close by were eerie sentinels.

Cori pulled the sheet around her and got out of bed. Her clothes were scattered around the room, testimony to the passionate stages of undress from the night before. The memory made her stop and look at Joey. No man had ever treated her so tenderly, or with such finesse. Perhaps it was that she trusted him. Not only with her body, but with her life.

"What can I do?" she asked, slipping into her jeans and sweater.

Joey watched the fog. The motor was just a dull throb, a premonition of company on the way. The route to the cabin was winding and hard to follow. He listened intently, trying to make certain the boat was traversing the correct channels before he hit the panic button. It would seem Dupray and his master had acted much faster than Joey had ever anticipated. They were taking no chances that he would move Cori again, which likely meant they were coming in with a lot of firepower, in broad daylight, and without all due preparation. He, too, was not completely prepared. He'd hoped to use the daylight hours to set up a few surprises. Now he would have to trust that Cori was as courageous as she seemed.

"Do you know how to use a gun?"

Cori had not expected that question. She had never even considered that she might hold a deadly weapon—much less use it with intent to kill. Could she? "I don't know how, but I can learn. Fast." The answer was unequivocal. She could do anything to protect Joey. Because he'd risked everything to protect her.

"Get one of the shotguns." Joey pointed to the corner.

Cori picked up the weapon, surprised at the weight of it. While Joey kept one ear attuned to the drifting sounds of the boat headed their way, he broke open the breach and showed her how to insert two fresh shells, loading both barrels.

"There's only a single trigger. It shoots one shell, then the other." He watched as she placed the gun against her shoulder.

"Pull the butt tight against your shoulder. It's going to have a lot of kick, Cori. Be prepared and don't get knocked off balance. Brace. Hold tight. The rifle doesn't have as much kick, but the shotgun has a broad spread of pellets. You don't have to be as accurate, and if you have to shoot this thing, I want you to hit what you're aiming at, because if they get close enough for you to have to shoot, I won't be in a position to help you."

Cori did not allow the dread his words created to linger in her heart. She kept them in her mind, where they would motivate her to do whatever was necessary. But she kept her heart safe from them, refusing to envision what circumstances might prevent Joey from helping her.

"Whatever you do, once you raise this weapon, shoot to kill."

She nodded, holding his gaze with her own.

The sound of the motor was much closer now. The hope that it was a fisherman just passing their way died as the sound came closer and closer.

"They aren't using a bit of precaution." Cori went to the window, lifting the shade back as Joey had done. The sight that greeted her was startling. "It's like the entire world has disappeared. The fog is as thick as clouds."

"There's no need for them to be quiet. They aren't counting on surprise. They'll rely on superior firepower."

Cori felt a sense of gut-twisting anxiety. Looking out at the fog, she could anticipate a man, only twenty feet away, suddenly looming out of the mist, intent on killing them both. She would have to react quickly. She would not have time to assess the situation or even make a decision. She would have to kill or be killed. The gun weighed heavily in her hands. What if Kit was the one who stepped in front of her?

Joey knew exactly what was going through her mind. Kill or be killed. The fog diffused the early morning sunlight, and the glow rested lightly on Cori's pale skin. She stood in front of him at the window, and Joey could not resist. His hands touched her arms, moving up to her shoulders. He gently pulled her back to him so that she rested against his bare chest.

"It's not Kit." He knew exactly the path her thoughts must have taken. Any sane person holding a gun and intending to use it for self-protection had to think of the consequences.

"How can you be so certain?"

"Because I believe he's dead." He kissed her head, bending to her neck. "Cori, no man could have walked away from you. Kit Wells did not voluntarily leave the night of his wedding. If he were alive, he could not have stayed away from you."

The combination of his words and lips released the last self-doubt that Cori harbored about her past. She had always believed that somehow Kit had found her lacking. He had been unwilling to take her wherever he had gone because she had not been worthy.

Yet no matter how much Joey's words soothed her, she could not let go of the image of the man reflected back to her from a New Orlean's store window. It had been Kit Wells. Not an imitation of Kit.

She put her memory to work and came up with the details, the evidence that had made her such a good witness in the DeCarlo murder trial.

Kit had been wearing a dark overcoat, very similar to one he had owned. One she had bought for him, as a matter of fact. The detailing on the coat was perfect, down to the black buttons. Beneath the coat had been the broad shoulders of the man who had often held her in his arms. She mentally placed her hand on his shoulders, knowing the familiar fit. She moved her memory up to the face, to the dip in the cheek below the cheekbone, the brow that protected his deep-set blue eyes. The hair was longer, a slight mixture of gray turned silvery by the morning light. Could a lookalike deceive her? She didn't think so.