Beholden (19 page)

No big deal. Anger replaced the last vestiges of desire. “Do you kiss all the women you’re assigned to protect?”

He almost flinched at that one. “No.”

She scooted off the bed, her bare feet cold on the floor, and hugged herself in a classically defensive posture. “No, of course
not. Then you must have kissed me because I’m so beautiful, so irresistible, with my perfect face and my gorgeous hair.” She
watched a frown appear and rushed on. “No, I thought not. You kissed me because you felt sorry for me, the poor little battered,
bald waif. Well, I don’t need your pity, thank you very much.” She whirled away from him, choking back the tears that threatened
to fall.

“Pity?” Luke got to his feet, grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him. Before she could react, he yanked her close
and crushed his mouth to hers.

This was no sweet, tender kiss, no slow exploration, no tentative mating dance. His mouth devoured, his tongue plundered,
and his arms molded her body to his with a ruthlessness just barely held in check. He drank from her, deeply, thoroughly,
and finally felt her stunned response.

Terry’s hands moved up his back, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she hung on, scarcely able to stay upright, her
knees wobbly. She tasted his anger and felt his strength as he held her in a bone-crushing grip. She’d thought him dangerous
from the moment she’d first laid eyes on him, but hadn’t realized until now how much control he’d exerted over his emotions.
She’d made him mad and he’d unleashed the fury that lay just beneath the surface.

Yet she didn’t fear him, not physically. Senses swimming from the passionate onslaught, she knew her greatest fear centered
around the way he could so effortlessly make her feel. Alive, aware, throbbing with needs she could scarcely put a name to.
What defenses did she have against all that?

Just as abruptly, he wrenched his mouth away and let her
go. He watched her take a staggering step backward to maintain her balance, and felt a fresh rush of anger at what he’d done.
No, he never should have touched her. But she’d pushed him too far.

“Did that feel like pity to you?” Luke asked, his voice thick. Without waiting for her answer, he left the room and went downstairs.

No, that definitely hadn’t felt like pity. Terry walked to the wall mirror and studied her reflection. Her eyes were bright
and shining, her mouth swollen from his kisses. She licked her lips and tasted him. The truth was staring her in the face,
the truth she’d denied even to herself.

She wanted Luke Tanner and now he knew it, too.

The phone rang at ten that evening, surprising Luke. Only Jones had the number. At this late hour, he doubted if his commanding
officer had called for a chat. He’d been sitting staring into the cooling embers of the fire, going over the scene in Terry’s
bedroom, wondering what he should have done differently. He welcomed the diversion as he went to the kitchen and picked up
on the third ring.

“Luke? We’ve got a problem,” Jones said without hesitation.

He listened quietly, taking notes, asking a few questions. Less than ten minutes later, he was taking the stairs two at a
time.

The door to Terry’s room was ajar and the bedside lamp was on low. She was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She turned
to the doorway, a question in her eyes, a guarded look on her face.

“We have to move out,” Luke told her. “Get dressed and pack up your stuff.”

She sat up, the fear returning rapidly. “Why? What’s happened?”

“There’s been another killing.”

***

Terry sat in the passenger seat of the van trying to sort out her jumbled thoughts as Luke turned onto Highway 1 heading south.
They’d left at precisely ten-forty, after he’d piled everything they’d brought with them into the van. Prince was sitting
up on the seat behind Luke looking out the window, his ears sharp and alert. She hadn’t asked any questions yet, knowing there
wasn’t time. Luke wouldn’t have been rushing them along if there wasn’t a real sense of urgency.

She glanced at his profile now and saw that steely control clearly visible. She’d seen him soften only twice, when he’d held
the little boy he’d saved in the drugstore and earlier when he’d kissed her senseless. But she didn’t want to think about
that right now.

“Will you tell me where we’re headed?” she began, needing to know. After all, this was her life, too.

“A safe house up a mountain trail in Big Sur. Used to be owned by a millionaire named Higgins as a sort of getaway cabin.
He had it built for his mistress, or so I was told. He’s in prison for a long stretch. Tax evasion.”

She’d told him earlier today when they’d been out driving around—Lord, had that been less than eight hours ago?—that she’d
like to live in Big Sur. But she hadn’t meant in hiding. “You said there’d been another killing? Who died?”

He’d wondered when she’d get around to asking. He was getting to know her, the way she mulled things over in that sharp mind,
then began questioning. “A police officer named Neil Manning.”

“What’s he got to do with us?”

“Manning was partnered with a cop named Jerry Foster who was gunned down in a Phoenix alley the same night your reporter friend
was killed. At first, Jones wasn’t sure there was a connection. Then when they started poking around and found evidence of
money laundering and corrupt cops, the Federal investigators became fairly certain that Foster was involved and was the one
Simon was going to
meet that night. So they started leaning on Manning to see if he knew anything.” Luke slowed down, realizing that he’d been
speeding. This was no time to be pulled over with explanations required.

“And did he?”

“We’ll never know. He was roommates with Foster and he was settling the guy’s estate. A good guess is that he probably ran
across something incriminating in going through Foster’s papers. He called Lieutenant Remington and set up an appointment
to see him in person. Said he wanted to talk over something he couldn’t discuss on the phone. We also know that Manning’s
new partner told him that the Feds wanted to talk with him. But apparently Manning felt more comfortable with Remington. Then,
when he didn’t show and didn’t report for his shift either, Remington sent a couple of cops to his apartment. They found Manning
dead in the shower, the water still running. Coroner said the head wounds were more in keeping with a beating than a fall.
The apartment had been professionally searched and stripped clean.”

Terry felt a shiver take her. “Then it wasn’t an accident?”

“No, that’s why I told you there’d been another killing. The Feds couldn’t find anything to indicate what Manning felt was
so important. The apartment was clean as a whistle, no fingerprints, no papers, nada.” He glanced over at her and saw the
worried frown. “Do you know this Remington? Did he used to come over to your father’s house, too?”

“No, they didn’t socialize, but I’ve heard Dad speak of him for years, and I’ve met Phil. He’s a gentleman cop, as Dad used
to say. Didn’t start out walking a beat, but came right out of college, then graduated at the top of his class at the Academy.
He’s good-looking and knows it. He dresses beautifully, but there’s something about him that keeps people at a distance. An
aloofness, I guess. I understand he’s next in line for the captain’s job when Marino retires.”

“What about Marino? Do you think he’s clean?”

“Lord, I don’t know. It’s not like I hung around the precinct, you know. Most of my impressions are secondhand, through my
father’s opinions. I’d sure like to know how Dad feels about Mac. That must have been a shock.”

“Were Mac and Remington buddies?”

She frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t know. They worked together, but they’re very different men. They don’t seem the type to
be friends in their off hours.” She peered over at him in the dim light of the dash. “Do you suspect everyone at Central?”

“Pretty much, until this is over and we can clear them. There’s Mac and Foster, maybe Manning. I’d be willing to bet there
are more.”

“You think this Manning was on the take, too?”

“Could be. Or he could’ve found something and tried fleecing the big boys. When they wouldn’t play, he decided to turn them
in to Remington. The boys heard about his call and saw to it that he had a little accident in the shower. It has all the earmarks
of a professional hit.”

“It all sounds so calculated, so cold-blooded.”

“That’s because it is.” Luke turned off the highway, down a side street, and into a Chevron station. He looked the place over,
then pulled up next to the rest rooms. “See that green van over there? We’re going to transfer our stuff into that on the
off chance that someone has made this one. I’m going to check out the ladies’ room and, after I do, I want you to wait inside
there until I come get you.”

“Why can’t I help you move our stuff? I don’t want to wait in some crummy rest room.”

Luke swung his cool gaze to her face, back to being the Federal Agent again. “Will you just do as I say?”

Terry sighed heavily. She wouldn’t like it, but she’d do it. “Can I take Prince in with me?”

He nodded as he jumped out of the van.

In twenty minutes, they were on the road again in their
new van. If possible, it was outfitted with even more gadgets than the prior one. Terry was continually amazed at what Bob
Jones could accomplish with a couple of phone calls. She glanced back at Prince curled up on the backseat, apparently having
decided they’d be spending many more hours traveling through the night.

“How much farther is this Higgins house?” she asked Luke.

He rubbed an old scar near his right temple that always ached when he was tense. Relocating was always the hardest on his
nerves. “It’s not all that far, but after we leave the highway, the road becomes little more than a path. Big Sur is very
much a private community, with some of the strictest building codes and restrictions in California, if not the country. Homes
or buildings may not be visible from the highway, so they’re all tucked up in the hills among the rocks and trees. Great for
our purposes, but the devil to find the first time.”

“So you’ve never been to this place either?”

“No, but Bob tells me it’s about as safe and secure as they make them. You might even get your view of the beach from up there.”
Spotting the sign he’d been seeking, he turned off the highway onto a narrow road that stretched straight up.

A light coastal fog had rolled in, swirling around the bent cypress trees and much taller redwoods and pines. It was chilly
out, but warm and cozy in the van with the heater on. As they climbed, Terry became aware of the utter blackness surrounding
them, with only the headlights shining ahead. The highway far below was no longer visible nor were there streetlights. If
they passed houses, the inhabitants must all be asleep, for it was dark everywhere. It was a decidedly eerie feeling.

Luke drove slowly and with great care, knowing that if he missed a turn up here and crashed, they probably wouldn’t be found
for a long while.

Terry’s thoughts were back in Phoenix with the slain police officers. “Did either of those men killed have families?”

“Manning never married. Foster was divorced with two kids.”

“Who do you suppose killed them?”

“Could have been Ozzie Swain, the gunman whose picture you drew. Or Sam Russo’s brother, Nick. Or some other scumbag who works
for the Russo brothers or the mob.”

“I’m not sure I understand why we had to relocate just because this policeman was killed.”

It was the question he’d been wanting to avoid. “Just a precaution,” he hedged.

Silently, Terry studied his profile. The mouth that had worked such magic on hers was once more a grim line. And suddenly
she knew. “It’s because I’m the only one who’s seen the killers and can identify them, isn’t it? Before they had Manning,
who
might
have told them something. But now…” Her voice trailed off.

Luke felt a muscle in his cheek clench as he gritted his teeth. She was too damn smart for her own peace of mind. And he wasn’t
about to lie to her. Pausing to downshift at the base of a hill, he turned to her. “Yes, that’s why.” He watched her swallow
hard, then turn toward the side window.

They rode the rest of the way in silence. Even following the map he’d quickly drawn, Luke nearly missed the turn into the
winding drive of the cabin nestled under a large natural rock overhang.

“Not very big, is it?” Terry commented, glad to have something else to settle her mind on other than the Russo brothers.

The house wasn’t, but the yard was, with a six-foot cyclone fence and lots of trees and shrubs. Luke opened the gate, parked
the van in the carport, returned to close the gate, making a note to get a lock tomorrow. “I’m going to leave
Prince with you while I have a look around the grounds.” Getting out, he turned on his high-beam flashlight.

Terry saw that it was nearly midnight. She’d be glad to get some sleep, and perhaps she could after this tiring day. There
hadn’t been a calm moment since the incident in the drugstore, the chase with the blue sedan, the kisses that had left her
shaken and needy, and now this night run. Not your ordinary day.

Luke returned and released Prince into the yard, where he immediately began sniffing around. “I’ll help you inside, then come
back for our stuff.” He led the way to the front door and used the keys he’d gotten when he’d picked up the green van. Shoving
open the door, he leaned in, groped for a wall switch, and turned on the lights. As Terry waited on the porch, he glanced
inside, making sure the rooms were empty.

Returning, he had a look of amusement on his face as he held the door for her. “You’re going to love this place.”

Her curiosity aroused, Terry stepped in. Her gaze slid around the room as her mouth opened in stunned surprise. “My God! This
isn’t a house. It’s a bordello!”