ChasetheLightning (10 page)

“You think he’d take me in for a crime I committed a hundred
and two years ago?”

She laughed. “I doubt it. I’m sure there’s some sort of
statute of limitations on robbery.”

“Statute of what?”

“Limitations. You know, some sort of limit on how long you
can be prosecuted for a particular crime.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” he replied drily. “So, when’s
the big day?”

“We haven’t set a date yet. We only met a short time ago.”

His gaze met hers, hooded and indecipherable. What was he
thinking? And why did she feel as though she had somehow betrayed him?

It was sprinkling when they left the restaurant.

Shivering, Amanda rubbed her hands up and down her arms.
“Looks like we��re in for another storm.”

Trey glanced up at the sky and nodded. Judging by the dark
clouds rapidly gathering overhead, they were in for a real gully washer.

“I think we’d better head home,” she said. “I hate driving
that winding road in the rain.”

“Okay by me,” Trey said. He’d seen enough of the town; his back
was aching. He looked at Amanda’s car. It was going to be a long, wet ride back
to her place, he thought.

Amanda tossed her purse and Trey’s jeans on the backseat,
then slid behind the wheel and put the key in the ignition. She watched Trey
fold his long length into the passenger seat, saw him grimace as he did so.
Sometimes she forgot he had been wounded.

She put on her seat belt, and, after watching her, he did
the same.

She pushed something on the dashboard. There was a soft,
whirring noise.

Trey glanced over his shoulder, alarmed to see a part of the
car unfolding and rising over him.

“Relax,” Amanda said. “It’s just the top.”

He had to hunch over to keep the top from hitting his head.
Taking off his hat, he tossed it onto the backseat. That afforded him a little
more headroom, but not much.

She released the button when the top clicked into place.
“Are you ready?”

He nodded, not certain he liked this new closed-in feeling.

“I’d better get some gas. For the car,” she explained,
seeing his puzzled look. “It’s what the car runs on, what makes it go.”

He grunted softly. “Where do you get it? Gas?”

“There,” she said, pointing at a building across the street.
“You can buy gasoline there, as well as bread and milk, beer, that kind of
stuff.” Pulling up in front of several strange-looking objects, Amanda stopped
the car and turned off the engine. “I’ll be right back.”

He watched with interest as she inserted her credit card in
a slot, then removed a long hose from a hook. Curious, he got out of the car to
watch as she shoved the end of the hose into a hole in the side of the car.

“This is a gas station,” she explained. “This is a gasoline
pump. These numbers,” she pointed to a window on the pump, “tell you how many
gallons of gas have been pumped into your car.”

“All cars run on gas?”

“Yes. Some get better mileage than others. I get about
seventeen miles to the gallon in the city, more on the highway.”

“Highway?”

“The open road.”

“Is that good?”

She shrugged. “About average, I guess. Usually, the bigger
the car, the worse the mileage.” She put the hose back on the hook. “Let’s go.”

“Your credit card?” he said as he got into the car. “You can
use it for gas, too?”

“Yes, you can use it for just about everything, food,
clothes, whatever you want.”

It was raining harder now. Amanda switched on the windshield
wipers.

Trey gazed out the window. The clouds were dark, ominous. A
brilliant flash of lightning was followed by a clap of thunder. Soon, they had
left the town behind.

“I love thunderstorms,” Amanda said, both hands gripping the
steering wheel as she maneuvered the car around the first curve in the road.
“When I’m at home in front of a cozy fire.”

Trey nodded. He had always loved storms. The sound of the
rain and the thunder, the sharp crackle of lightning sizzling across the sky.
He loved the power of it, the wildness. It called to something deep down inside
him, something feral and untamed.

Another flash of lightning cut across the sky. Thunder
followed hard on its heels. Another bolt rent the heavens. Amanda screamed as
it struck a tree just ahead. Sparks lit the sky as, in seeming slow motion, the
big tree buckled near its roots and toppled over, crashing into the roadway.
Amanda rode the brakes as the Jag hydroplaned on the wet surface, until, after
what seemed like an eternity, the car came to a stop within feet of the tree’s
tangled limbs.

She sat there a moment, breathing heavily, her hands in a
death grip on the wheel, her knuckles white. She slid a glance over at Trey.
“Now you know what seat belts are for.”

He nodded. The rain was coming down in sheets now, the heavy
drops making a loud tattoo on the top of the car.

She was shivering. Nerves, he thought, in reaction to what
had almost happened. He couldn’t blame her. It had scared the hell out of him,
too. They missed plowing into the sudden road block by no more than a couple of
feet. She had good reflexes, for a city woman.

He put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You
okay?”

“Y-yes.”

He glanced at both sides of the road. Trees grew thick on
either side. There was no way around the tree, and no way he could move it.

The rain pounded on the roof of the car.

When she regained her composure, Amanda carefully backed her
car around in the two-lane road, and drove slowly back the way they had come.

“Where are we going?” Trey asked.

“I don’t think I want to try the side road up to the house,”
she said, her voice still a little shaky. “It’s very narrow, hardly more than a
dirt path. It’s probably washed out, anyway. There’s a motel about a mile this
side of town. We can spend the night there.”

“What’s a motel?”

“It’s like a hotel, except people usually only stay for a
night.”

Trey nodded. She had said she hated driving in the rain. He
could see by the taut line of her jaw, the way her hands clenched the wheel,
that she was tense.

He felt a sense of frustration. With a wagon and team, he
could have taken over and gotten them home safely. But he had no knowledge of
her car, no understanding of what made it go. He longed momentarily for ’Pago.
The stallion shrugged off storms with equanimity, had no need of roads or
trails.

Lightning continued to slash across the skies. The rain
continued to come down in heavy sheets, making it difficult to see more than a
few feet ahead.

Silence enfolded them, broken only by the sound of the rain
and the rumble of thunder, and the swish of the windshield wipers against the
glass.

Night spread her cloak across the land, cocooning them in
deepening darkness.

A man’s voice came over the radio saying the storm was
expected to last through the night and warning motorists to drive carefully.

“What does that mean?” Trey asked. “Motorists drive
carefully?”

“We’re motorists,” Amanda replied, not taking her gaze off
the road. “And driving is what I’m doing.”

“And who is the man on the radio?”

“He’s a DJ. A disc jockey. It’s his job to play the music
and make public service announcements.”

“Where is he?”

“At that radio station I told you about.”

She fell silent as the road curved again.

He heard her sigh of relief when the road straightened out
and the lights of the town became visible.

A few minutes later, she pulled up in front of a long, low
building. The sign said, “Cactus Tree Motel. Vacancy.”

“I’ll be right back.” Reaching into the backseat, she
grabbed her handbag. Opening the door, she got out of the car and hurried into
the office.

Through the window, Trey could see her talking to a pudgy,
gray-haired man. She emerged a short time later and they drove around the side
of the building. She stopped the car and turned off the engine. She sat there a
moment, then got out of the car.

Grabbing his hat, he followed her out, hunching his
shoulders against the rain.

“Here’s your key.” She thrust it into his hand, her fingers
brushing against his. “See you in the morning.”

She opened the door to the room next to his and stepped
inside. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

He waited until she closed the door, then looked at the key
in his hand. It was small, attached to an oblong disk with the number 31 on it.
Unlocking the door to Room 31, he stepped inside. It was dark and cold. In the
dim light coming through the open door, he could make out two beds with a table
in between. Remembering Amanda’s house, he felt along the wall beside the door
until he found the light switch. He flicked it on, shook his head as the room
filled with light. Amazing. The walls were a faded green, reminding him of the
color of sagebrush in the spring. There was a small lamp on the table, and one
of those telephones people in this century seemed so fond of. A small chest of
drawers across from the beds, and a single overstuffed chair.

He tossed his hat on the dresser, then stretched out on the
bed, hands clasped behind his head, and listened to the steady drumming of the
rain against the window. He thought briefly of Relámpago, though he was not
really concerned. The stud had shelter and water, and would have been fine even
if he didn’t. It wouldn’t hurt the stallion to miss a meal, Trey thought wryly.
They had both done it in the past. He was a sight more concerned about how he
was going to get back where he belonged. Damn.

Feeling restless and closed in, he stood and began to pace
the floor. What was she doing, he wondered. Maybe he should just go check to
make sure she was all right.

He headed for the door, stopped, his hand on the knob.
Muttering an oath, he went back to pacing the floor. She was probably asleep by
now.

He was thinking about trying to get some sleep himself when
he paused, his head cocked to one side, listening. Had he imagined it, or was
someone knocking on the door. It could only be Amanda.

He hurried to open the door when the knock came a second
time.

She smiled tentatively. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” He stepped back. Closed the door behind her.

She stood in the middle of the floor, her arms crossed over
her breasts. “I can’t sleep.”

Trey nodded.

“Do you mind if I sit down?”

“Make yourself at home,” he said with a wry grin. “You’re
paying for the room.”

She glanced around, started toward one of the beds, then
changed direction and sat down in the chair. “It’s cold in here.”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you turn on the heat?” she asked, and then
grinned. “Because you don’t know how,” she said, answering her own question.

Rising, she walked across the room. “This is the
thermostat,” she said. “You turn it this way for heat, and this way to turn on
the air. Heating and air-conditioning,” she elaborated. “One heats the room
when it’s cold, and the other cools the room when it’s hot.”

“Handy.” He came up behind her, peering over her shoulder.

“Yes.” She turned to face him, her breath catching in her
throat. She hadn’t realized he was so close. Coming in here had been a mistake.
He was too close. Too virile. Too much on her mind. And far too tempting. But
she had come here anyway, hoping for…what? She shied away from the answer that
came quickly to mind.

“Well,” she said, “I’d better go. I just wanted to make sure
you found everything. I mean, you’ve never been in a motel before, and…and I
need to check on your wound. And…”

“Relax. My back is fine. Just a little sore, that’s all.”

He whispered her name, his hand cupping her cheek. His
calloused palm was warm against her skin.

She met his gaze, felt the attraction sizzle like lightning
between them, vital and alive and irresistible.

His arms slid around her waist and he drew her up against
him.

She rested her cheek against his chest, acutely aware of his
arms around her, of the smooth texture of his shirt against her skin, the way
her body seemed to fit to his. They stood that way for several minutes, not
moving, not speaking. There was a sudden hum as the heater came on.

He tilted her head up, his gaze moving over her face,
lingering on her lips. Was he remembering the kiss they had shared, as she was?
Was it making his mouth dry and his palms damp? Was his heart pounding as
loudly as the thunder rattling overhead? And if he tried to kiss her, what
then?

And then there was no time for thought. Trey’s fingers were
on her hand, sliding slowly up her arm, curling around her shoulder to draw her
closer. How was it possible for her to feel this way? One look, one touch, and
her whole body came alive. Her heartbeat increased, happiness and excitement
welled within her, bubbling up from the deepest part of her being. She felt
like laughing, singing. Shouting for the sheer joy of it.

Lifting her into his arms, he carried her to the chair and
sat down.

“Amanda.”

She took a deep breath, but before she could speak, he was
kissing her, his arms strong and sure around her. There was no doubt, no
hesitation. He knew what she wanted better than she knew herself.

The rain, the room, everything seemed to fade away as Trey’s
mouth moved over hers, never rough, never demanding, ever gentle.

She surrendered to him with a sigh, every fiber of her being
caught up in the sweet fire of Trey’s lips on hers. Impossible. Magical. Heat
flowed through her.

His hand slid under her sweater, encountering warm flesh,
making her quiver with desire as he cupped her breast. An image of the bed only
a few feet away flashed across her mind.

He murmured her name, his voice sandpaper rough with desire
as he kissed her again, his tongue sliding over her lower lip in silent
entreaty. Like a flower opening to the sun, she opened for him, aching,
yearning. No one had ever made her feel like this before. Not her high school
boyfriend. Not Rob…

Rob! An image of his face, his eyes filled with silent
accusation, rose up in her mind. His ring on her finger was suddenly an
unwelcome weight.

Pushing against Trey’s chest, she stood up, her breathing
ragged. What was she doing here?

Trey rose to his feet in a single, fluid movement, reaching
for her.