Against the Law (31 page)

“Where's Chrissy?”

“She's on a sleepover at a friend's house. I want to know what you're doing here.”

His anger seeped away. He raked a hand through his hair. “God, I'm sorry. I was just so worried.”

She looked at him and fear replaced the stiffness in her shoulders. “What is it? What's wrong?”

Dev took her hands and drew her over to the sofa. Both of them sat down.

“Santos is still alive. Don Ricardo phoned on my way over here. He says Santos got off the plane on the mainland. He didn't get back aboard. He didn't die in the explosion.”

“Oh, my God.” Santos was a killer. Their lives were once more in danger. And yet the awful hurt welling inside her came from knowing the true reason he was there. Not because he had missed her. Not because he couldn't live without her. Because she was still his client. “What…what should we do?”

“I'm taking you and Chrissy to Wyoming. Both my brothers are there. They'll be able to help me protect you.”

A tremor went through her as she thought of Mexico, the terrifying days and nights, the awful, stomach-churning fear. “I don't know if I can do this again.”

He squeezed her hand. “It won't be for long. De La Guerra's men are looking for him. The don says it's only a matter of time until they find him. He gave me his word.”

That was good. She knew Don Ricardo would want Santos dealt with as badly as they did. She stared into the bluest eyes she'd ever seen and tried to ignore the pain in her heart. “So I guess I'm your client again.”

“I guess so.”

She stood up from the sofa, feeling more alone than she had before he'd come. She wrapped her arms around her, suddenly cold. They were in danger. She was his client. Everything was exactly the way it was before.

Dev stood up, too, and she recognized the curve of his pistol beneath his lightweight jacket. He had come to protect her. Just like before.

The feeling of despair expanded. She considered telling him she would hire someone to protect them and he could go back home. But she trusted him more than anyone else to keep them safe. Dear God, she was just beginning to get her life back together. How long before her broken heart could start to mend?

Then something he said began to niggle at the back of her mind. When she turned, there was something in his face.

“You said the don called you on your way over here.”

“That's right.”

“So you didn't know about Santos until you got to L.A.”

He glanced down at his handmade Italian loafers. “No.”

“But you were coming here. Coming to see me. Is that right?”

He nervously wet his lips. “Yeah, that's right.”

“Why?”

He took a deep breath, exhaled it slowly. She had never seen him nervous before.

“I wanted to talk to you. I had some things to say.”

Her heart started beating again, as if before it had slowed to a stop. “Had? You don't want to say them now?”

He nodded, then started shaking his head. “No, I just… That's not what I meant.”

Her rising hope made it hard to breathe. “I'm afraid I'm confused. You were coming to L.A. to see me because you had something to say, but now you don't want to say it?”

He swallowed, glanced away. When he spoke, his words came out softly. “I want to say it. I want to say it so much it hurts. But I'm afraid. I'm scared of what will happen if I do.”

Her heart was pumping hard now, aching with impossible hope. Dear God, she loved him so much. “I have something to say to you, too. Something I should have said before you left.”

“It's not…not Rutgers, is it? You aren't in love with him?”

She shook her head, fighting not to cry. “Steve's only a friend. That's all he's ever been.”

“I've really missed you, baby.”

“Oh, Dev, I've missed you, too.”

He took a step toward her. Then she was in his arms.

“I love you,” he said. “I'm crazy in love with you. If you don't love me back, I don't know what I'm going to do.”

Tears burned her eyes. “I love you back. I love you back so much.”

He bent his head and kissed her. A string of the softest, sweetest, most tender kisses she had ever known.

“Marry me,” he said. “I didn't know if I would actually have the courage to say it, but I'm asking you to marry me.”

Her heart swelled. She thought it might burst. “Are you sure? I've got a little girl to raise.”

“We'll raise her together. With any luck, we'll have more than just one.”

Lark grinned. “Then yes. Yes, I'll marry you!”

He crushed her against him and she clung to him so fiercely she wondered how he could breathe.

“We're getting married,” he said, kissing her one more time.

“You asked and I said yes.”

He smiled, nodded, grinned. Then his grin slowly faded. “Then all we have to do is stay alive until Don Ricardo takes care of Jorge Santos.”

Lark looked up at him. “Or we do.”

“W
hat do you want me to do?”

“Pack a bag for you and Chrissy,” Dev said. “Bring something warm. We'll get the rest of what you need once we get there.”

Lark started for her bedroom and he followed her down the hall. He waited as she knelt and pulled her suitcase out from under the bed, then he grabbed the handle and hauled it up on the mattress.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” She walked over to the dresser, looked at him over her shoulder as she dug through her underwear drawer. He tried not to notice the tiny mauve lace panties and matching push-up bra she tossed into the suitcase.

“You could be putting your family in danger. What will your brothers say?”

He thought of the time he and Gabe had armed themselves and ridden horseback into the mountains to save Jackson and Sarah from being blown to kingdom come.

“It's what they'd want us to do. Taking care of each other is kind of a family tradition.” He smiled. “Since you're about to become part of the family, this qualifies.”

She smiled back at him, turned and hurriedly filled the suitcase with a few more lacy items, plus jeans, sweaters, and sneakers. They went into Chrissy's room and she packed the same sort of clothes for the little girl. “She's doesn't really have the right stuff for Wyoming.”

“Like I said, we'll get what we need in Wind Canyon.”

She began to search under the bed, came up empty-handed and hurried over to the closet.

“What are you looking for?”

“Her puppy-dog slippers. She loves them and they're warm.” Lark shook her head. “I'm not thinking. Marge packed them in Chrissy's overnight bag.”

Lark looked up at him and her pretty green eyes filled with tears. “Are we going to be all right, Dev?”

He went to her, eased her into his arms, knowing he shouldn't, that every minute they delayed could mean danger. “I'm not going to let that bastard hurt any of us. I swear it, Lark.”

She swallowed, took a steadying breath. Brushing the tears from her cheeks, she went back to packing the rest of Chrissy's things.

“This will have to do,” she said when she finished zipping the bag. Pulling up the handle, she started wheeling it toward the door. Her other bag sat in the entry.

“Anything you're forgetting?” Dev asked as they reached the front door.

Lark glanced around the condo. “I wish I had my gun. Unfortunately, the police haven't returned it.”

His mouth curved. Damn, she was something. “I guess we'll have to make do with just mine.” He urged her toward the door. “Come on. Time to go.”

“I need to call Susan Caswell, tell her there's been a change of plans and we'll be coming over to pick Chrissy up.” She jerked to a halt. “Oh, darn! I've got to get the phone number and address.” She raced back into the kitchen and returned holding a slip of paper with the information written on it. “Marge said it was only a few blocks away.”

“We'll call as soon as we get in the car.”

“I probably shouldn't have let her go without meeting Susan personally. But Marge vouched for her and I trust Marge completely.”

“In time, you'll figure all of this out. You're new at being a mother, you know.” He grabbed the bigger bag; Lark grabbed the smaller one, and they headed out the door.

When they reached the elevator, she pushed the button.

“My rental car's parked next to yours in the garage.”

She flicked him a glance, but he just smiled. The garage wasn't gated but the elevator from this level was keyed for residents only. Too bad the security system was worse than second rate. He made a mental note to do something about that.

“I wasn't sure how long I'd be in L.A. so I sent my Desert Air charter on back,” he said as the elevator door
slid closed. “I called Colin Mercer while I was waiting for you to get home.”
Waiting and praying she was all right.
“Mercer's flying us up.”

“That's great.”

They stepped out of the elevator into the lighted garage. Since it was November it was already dark outside. Unfortunately, the low energy fluorescents did a less than adequate job of keeping the parking area secure. Another problem to address.

They headed for the rented Camaro he planned to drop at the airport and had almost reached the car when a faint shuffling noise put him on alert. He heard it again, footsteps maybe. Unwilling to take any chances, he motioned for Lark to get down beside the car and jerked his Browning out of its holster. Crouching low, he flattened himself against the car door.

Both of them listened. He didn't hear another sound, but his pulse was racing and his instincts were screaming as he searched the garage for any sign of a threat. From the corner of his eye, he caught a slight movement, and the hair stood up on the back of his neck.

Something shifted to his right. He swung his weapon in that direction, saw a cat leap up on the hood of a car across the garage, released a breath, and crouched down again. Waited.

Almost convinced his instincts were wrong this time and it was safe, he rose to take a last look around. That's when the bullets started flying. In rapid succession, one pinged off the side of the car, one smashed through a rear window and one slammed into the cement wall of the elevator shaft.

Lark made a sound in her throat and stared up at him with big green frightened eyes.

“Stay here,” he whispered, moving toward the far left corner of the garage where the shots had been fired. Staying low and running between parked cars, he raced toward the shooter's last position, dodging in and out, trying to spot his target, hoping to get a shot.

More bullets rang out, slamming into the car beside him, missing him only by inches. The shooter was on the move and running toward Lark. Dev spotted him, fired off a few rounds, ducked the return fire and changed position, working to keep himself between the shooter and Lark.

Footsteps pounded. Shots echoed deafeningly in the confined space of the garage. Dev dodged another series of bullets, ducked and rolled out of the line of fire, pulled off two shots and heard the man scream. The heavy thud of a body landing hard on the floor of the garage followed, then only silence.

Holding the gun in front of him, Dev scanned the garage, moving backward toward Lark and the Camaro. But Lark wasn't there.

A chill went through him. “Lark!” He spun around, trying to spot her. “Lark, where are you?”

“Your lady is here, Señor Raines.” A tall thin Hispanic, black hair brushing his shoulders, stepped out of the shadows, an arm locked around Lark's throat. His pistol was jammed into her ribs. “You have caused me a great deal of trouble, señor. Now it is my turn.”

Gripping his weapon in both hands, Dev pointed the barrel at Santos's head. “Let her go.”

Santos's bone-chilling laughter split the air. “You and your men invaded my lands. You and de La Guerra cost me everything I've worked for. And you took something of mine…something I want back.”

His tone hardened even more. “Where is the little girl?” There was fury in those cold black eyes, and something lewd and about half mad.

Lark made a sound and Dev's finger tightened on the trigger. He needed a shot. Just one clear shot and Santos would be dead. But with the man holding Lark as a shield, he didn't have a chance.

Dev clenched his jaw. “Let her go, Santos. Let her go or you're a dead man.”

“Tell me where to find the child and I will let her go.”

It was a lie and both of them knew it. Santos was a killer. Revenge was the reason he was there.

That and retrieving little Chrissy. Dev could only imagine the sick fantasies that had driven the man to go this far.

Santos raised his pistol and pressed it against Lark's temple. “If you want your woman to live, you will put down your weapon and tell me where to find the girl.”

Dev's palms were sweating. Santos would pull the trigger. Dev had no doubt.

He took a deep breath, saw Lark's eyes flash to his, read her silent message, saw her begin to move. One of her long legs bent and shot backward, her foot slamming hard against Santos's knee, knocking him wildly off balance. In the next instant, she ducked and whirled, jerking away from him, giving Dev the shot he needed.

He fired, a heart shot, directing into the center of Santos's chest. The second bullet hit him right between the eyes. Santos careened over backward. Lark scrambled away and Dev rushed forward, his gun still aimed at Santos's heart.

The shots were clean. The man was dead.

Lark ran up and he pulled her against him, his arm around her waist. “You okay, baby?”

She nodded.

“Stay close. I need to check on the other guy.” Moving carefully, he made his way across the garage, Lark right behind him. The other shooter lay in a growing pool of blood on the concrete floor. Hispanic, early twenties, thirty pounds overweight. He was wearing an L.A. Lakers jacket and he was still breathing.

“Call 911,” Dev told Lark as he knelt beside the young Latino, a gangbanger for hire was Dev's guess. He kicked away the kid's weapon, reached down and flipped open the bloody jacket, saw the shot had missed his heart and hit him in the upper right chest.

The young man's eyes slowly opened. “I wasn't…wasn't trying to kill you. I was just…just supposed to distract you.”

“Well, you distracted me. Now you'll get to be distracted for a good long time in prison.”

The kid whimpered. He looked down and saw all the blood. His eyes rolled back in his head and his skull thumped back down on the floor.

Dev shook his head, turned and strode back to Lark. She walked straight into his arms. “It's over,” he said.
“Santos is dead and this guy's no threat. He was just paid to do a job—which he bungled.”

She nodded. He could tell she was fighting not to cry.

He caught her chin. “You were great back there. I was running out of airspeed and altitude. What you did saved both our asses.”

She smiled, grinned, started laughing through her tears. “I so love you.”

He held her tighter, her tall, slender body pressed full-length against him. “I can't wait to marry you.” Now that he had made his decision, he couldn't believe it had taken him so long to figure it out.

The sound of sirens split the air.

Lark smiled up at him. “I guess tonight would be out of the question.”

Dev laughed. But he was thinking that tonight might not work but tomorrow they would be heading north. They wouldn't be running from the past, but walking toward a bright, shining future.

With a speculative gleam in his eye, he flicked a glance at Lark and wondered how long it would take to get a marriage license in Wyoming.