Fools Rush In (18 page)

His lips lifted in a travesty of a smile. "It seems you were right all along."

"Oh, Max. I'm so sorry." Erin reached over and touched his arm, her eyes soft with compassion.

"Yeah. So am I."

She gazed at his grim profile, her heart aching for him. She would have given anything to spare him this pain and disillusionment. Oh, Lord, if only she had been wrong.

Erin longed to say more, to comfort him somehow, but Max's expression told her he did not want to discuss Sam's betrayal. And anyway, now was not the time.

She looked back at the blue car. It tracked them as though they were connected by an invisible cord.

"What are we going to do?" she asked hesitantly.

"There's not much we can do until we reach Las Vegas. We can't outrun them, and there sure as hell isn't anywhere to hide. You can see forever in this stinking place."

For the next hour they said little. Erin kept an anxious eye on their pursuers while Max drove in brooding silence. Like ants moving in tandem, the two cars crept across the broiling desert. The only sounds were the whine of the engine, the hum of tires and the rush of wind around the car as it sliced through the scorching stillness.

It was eerie and nerve-racking. Between the heat, the quiet and the ever-present threat of danger, Erin was strung so tautly that she felt as though she would snap and fly apart at any moment. No matter at what speed Max drove, the blue Camaro religiously kept a half-mile distance between them, and after a while she thought she would surely go mad if something didn't happen to break the monotony and suspense.

When the pattern altered a short while later, as they approached the edge of Las Vegas, Erin found it no more to her liking than the game of follow-the-leader across the desert.

"Here they come," Max announced. "I figured they'd close the gap about now."

Checking behind them, Erin saw that the other car was moving up fast. She looked at Max. "But why? Why now?"

"Don't worry. They're not going to overtake us. They just can't take the chance of losing us in the city. They're hoping we'll lead them to Elise. The poor dumb bastards probably think that because they've kept their distance we're not wise to them."

"What are we going to do?"

"Lose 'em."

As the words came out of his mouth, Max stomped on the gas pedal, and the car shot forward, pinning her to the seat. "Hold on!" He whipped around the car in front of them, darted into the right lane just inches ahead of a taxi, passed three more cars and darted back.

A block behind them the blue car began weaving desperately through the traffic.

Ahead, their lane was clear for almost a block, and Max poured on the gas. They shot down the street, passing an endless string of gaudy hotels and casinos with flashing marquees. Even at that hour of the morning the sidewalks were filled with milling people going from one pleasure palace to another. They were all so intent on finding another place to lose their money that no one paid any attention to a maniac driver.

Erin held on to the armrest and the edge of the seat for dear life, expecting them to be hit at any second as Max took advantage of the smallest breaks in traffic to swerve in and out among the other cars. Horns blared and the squeal of tires behind them told her that the two men were still following. A muttered curse from Max when he checked the rearview mirror confirmed it.

"We're never gonna lose them on this damned straightaway." As they neared the next intersection Max flashed her a grimly determined look and ordered, "Hold on tight."

He cut in front of an eighteen-wheeler in the outside lane, drawing an angry blast from the trucker's air horn. Ignoring him, Max jerked the steering wheel to the right. Erin cried out and closed her eyes as they skidded around the corner, tires screeching.

For what seemed to her like hours, they zigzagged through the streets, dodging pedestrians and other cars, running stop signs and red lights and careering around corners at top speed, with the blue Camaro tracking them like a homing missile. The wild chase was going full tilt when, without warning, Max swung into a parking garage.

"What are you doing?" Erin cried. "We can't hide in here! They'll find us!"

"I don't intend to."

He slowed just enough to snatch the ticket from the machine. The top of the car scraped the lifting cross bar as they shot under it. Tires squealing, they tore up the spiraling ramp at a dizzying speed that made Erin moan and close her eyes. Though a sign at the entrance had said Parking on 6, Max got off on the second level, sped straight across to the opposite side of the garage and onto the down ramp. They were halfway between floors when they heard another car racing upward on the other side of the building.

"If we're lucky, they'll go all the way to six looking for us," Max said as they reached ground level.

There was another car ahead of them at the cashier's booth, and when he pulled in behind it Max cursed under his breath. As the driver fumbled in his pocket for the correct amount Max and Erin exchanged a harried glance, then stared straight ahead, every muscle tense as they listened to the scream of tires coming from above.

When at last the other driver drove on and their turn came, Max shoved the ticket and a five-dollar bill into the attendant's hand and peeled out of the garage before the man could utter a word.

When they hit the street Max drove like a race-car driver on qualifying day. For several minutes neither spoke, their concentration on putting distance between them and the parking garage as quickly as possible.

"What do we do now?" Erin asked when it became apparent that the two men in the blue Camaro were no longer following.

"The first thing we're going to do is ditch this car," Max replied decisively. "Then we're going to get a room somewhere and hole up for a few hours while we make plans."

"But—"

"Sweetheart, you can bet those two guys are going to be cruising this town looking for us. They know we came here to search for Elise and that we're not going to leave until we find her, or at least a clue as to where she's gone. We can't afford to go off half-cocked. We have to think this thing through." He spared her a glance that both coaxed and commanded. "Trust me in this, Erin," he urged gently.

Erin gazed at him, her expression troubled, but after a moment she nodded her reluctant agreement.

Max wasted no time. He drove straight to the Strip and pulled up at the entrance to the fanciest hotel. When the parking attendant opened the door Max handed him the keys and a generous tip and said, "Park this one in the rental agency's lot. I'm turning it in." Taking Erin's arm, he hurried her inside.

The paperwork was handled quickly, so quickly that the inside of the hotel was little more than a series of impressions for Erin: plush carpets, greenery, marble, glass and chrome, a strange combination of opulence and glitter; a melange of people of all ages, dressed in every conceivable garb from Bermuda shorts to sequined gowns. From the casino adjacent to the lobby came the dull roar of voices, the clank of coins, the crank and whir of slot machines, clamoring bells, flashing lights and an occasional shout or groan. There was an underlying sense of feverish excitement, a feeling of endless night and desperate gaiety. Pervading the air were the combined scents of expensive perfumes, old whiskey, crisp new money... and fear.

Erin stood beside Max as he dealt with the rental agency clerk, looking around, wide-eyed, her bemused senses overwhelmed by the myriad sights and scents and sounds.

She had expected them to check into the hotel once they had settled the car bill, but to her surprise, Max paused only long enough to inquire whether an Elise Holman, or a woman who looked like Erin, had rented a car within the past few days. When they received a negative answer he hustled her out and into a waiting taxi.

The motel Max chose was a far cry from the glitter palaces that lined the Strip. The Red Rooster was a garish little place squeezed between a sleazy night spot and a wedding chapel, which bore the name Hitchin' Post in flashing neon over the door. Erin had been surprised when Max instructed the cabdriver to drop them there, but once inside the room she was stunned speechless.

She stood just inside the door, her eyes growing round as they took in the fuzzy red carpet, red flocked wallpaper and red satin spread covering the biggest bed she had ever seen. The only other items of furniture were a bedside table and a television set. No table or chairs graced the room, no dresser, no luggage rack and, unless her eyes deceived her, no closet.
Didn't people ever check in here with luggage?
she wondered.

As Max set the suitcase on the floor at the foot of the bed a movement overhead caught Erin's eyes. She looked up and gasped, her mouth falling open as she stared at the mirrored ceiling.

"Max?" Wary uncertainty and vague suspicion colored her voice. "What kind of place is this?"

He gave her a distracted look, followed the direction of her gaze and shrugged. "Some sort of hookers' hideaway, probably. Sooner or later those guys are going to start checking hotels for us, and it's my guess they'll probably start with those fancy places on the Strip. I figure by the time they get around to dives like this, we'll be long gone. At least I hope so."

Erin was appalled... and fascinated. She'd never seen a place like this except in the movies. She'd certainly never been in one. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Max if he had, but when she looked at him the words fled her mind.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, forearms braced on his spread knees, hands dangling loosely between them. His shoulders were slumped, his head bent forward in an attitude of total dejection, and as Erin looked at him pity welled up inside her.

For hours he had pushed aside personal pain, but she knew that was no longer possible. They were safe, for the moment at least, and now that the urgency was past, the enormity of Sam's betrayal had hit him like a blow to the midsection.

How he must be hurting, she thought, watching him rake a hand through his dark hair. He and Sam had been friends since childhood. Max had believed in him, loved him as a brother... as she loved Elise.

"Oh, Max," she said, her voice low and vibrating with feeling. "I'm so sorry."

Slowly he raised his head and looked at her, and Erin's heart constricted at the abject sorrow she saw in his eyes. It drew her to him with an irresistible force and, dropping her purse to the floor, she moved across the room.

"I can't believe it, Erin," he said in a dazed voice. He moved his head from side to side, his eyes glazed with pain and bewilderment. "I can't believe he'd do this. But there's no other explanation for those men finding us. At least none I can think of."

"I know, Max. I know," she crooned as she came to a halt in front of him. Tenderly, she touched his face,.then ran her fingers through the hair at his temples. "I'd give anything if there were."

"Oh, God, Erin!" He closed his eyes and reached for her blindly. Grasping her hips, he pulled her forward to stand between his legs and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face against her middle. "Why? Why?"

It was a cry from the heart that touched her almost beyond bearing. Erin cradled his head in her arms, holding him close, her throat working with emotion.

She ran her hands over his back, his head, threaded her fingers through his hair. Emotions trembled through his powerful body. His muscles were rigid with the effort to hold them in check.

He clutched her to him, his hold fierce, almost brutal. She felt his pain keenly, and her vision blurred as tears welled. She looked at the ceiling to hold the moisture at bay, only to encounter their reflection, and the sight of Max's hunched shoulders tore at her heart. One by one, her tears spilled over, and she silently cursed Sam for his perfidy.

It was then that she knew she had fallen in love with Max.

Oh, Erin...Erin. You're such a fool,
she told herself, aiming the scolding lament at her mirrored image.
You should have known better.

She looked down at the dark head nestled against her breasts, her eyes sad and tender.
But how could she not love him?
she wondered. Max was such a good man, a wonderful man, everything she had ever longed for. He was a complex mixture of strength and gentleness, determined, ambitious, yet loyal and compassionate. He could be funny or teasing or bossy or even a bit arrogant when it suited him, but he was a man who gave of himself completely, a man who could be relied on utterly.