Fools Rush In (22 page)

Erin paled. "Wh-what?"

Her voice was a breathy wisp of sound. She stared at Max, unable to move.

"I didn't tell your uncle what was going on," he continued, tightening his grip on her hands. "I didn't see any point in worrying him. So I simply said that I was Elise's boss and that she was on a business trip and had said she might stop by to visit him on her way. I think he bought it."

"Oh, Max." Erin pulled free of his grip. Bending forward, she propped her elbows on her knees and buried her face in her hands. The cold sensation seeped into her bones, making her shake.

Vaguely she heard Max flag down a passing waiter, but she paid him no mind. She merely sat there, lost in a haze of fear and dread.

The next thing she knew, Max was urging a glass into her hands.

"Here. Drink this."

"What is it?"

"Brandy."

"But I don't like brandy. And it's the middle of the morning, for heaven's sake."

"Just hush, sweetheart, and drink it. It'll make you feel better."

"Max, it isn't necessary. I'm not some weak-kneed little ninny who's going to fall apart on you."

"I know. But humor me anyway." His gaze was tender but unrelenting.

Too shaken to argue further, Erin complied, grimacing with each tentative sip as the fiery liquid burned its way down her throat. Though she hated to admit it, the brandy did drive the chill away. She could feel its warmth spreading through her body like a slow tide of hot molasses, bringing a flush to her skin. By the time she'd consumed half the contents of the glass she was calmer, more in control.

"Feeling better?" Max asked, inspecting the fresh color in her cheeks.

"Yes. I'm fine. Max, what are we going to do now? How are we ever going to find her?"

"I'm not sure. I..." He stopped, his expression growing thoughtful. Then all at once he reached over and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Look, honey, you wait here while I go check on something. I'll be back in a minute." Before she could protest or question him he was striding away through the lobby.

Curious, on edge, Erin fidgeted and sipped her brandy, though more for something to do than for its therapeutic value. She tapped her foot and every few seconds glanced in the direction Max had taken, vacillating between hope and annoyance.

When he returned his face was grim, and Erin was on her feet before he reached her.

"What is it?" she demanded fearfully. "What did you find out?"

Without even slowing his pace, Max took her arm and urged her toward the door. He didn't meet her eyes. "Not now. I'll tell you later."

"Max? Max, please!" Her voice climbed to a shrill pitch in direct proportion to the fear rising within her. She was half turned toward him, alternately trotting and skipping in a sliding sidestep in order to keep up, her eyes wide and beseeching. "Tell me, for Pete's sake!"

"In the truck," he growled.

Once there, however, Max still showed no great eagerness to explain. He avoided her eyes, both hands gripping the steering wheel, and as Erin studied his set profile, fear coiled in the pit of her stomach. "What is it, Max?" This time her voice was a shaky whisper. "I have to know."

His jaw moved infinitesimally, and a muscle jumped in his cheek. Erin knew he was gritting his teeth.

After a moment he sighed and turned to her, his face filled with regret and compassion. "I went back to the rental counter. It occurred to me that we should have asked Ms. Kent to check to see if Elise had turned in the car."

"And?"

He looked away again. "She didn't."

Baffled, Erin gazed at him blankly. Then her eyes narrowed. "There's more to it than that, isn't there, Max?" she prodded.

"Erin—"

"Isn't there?"

He slanted her a resentful look out of the corner of his eye and pressed his lips together. Then his face softened, and he turned back to her again and took her hands in his. The gesture made her chest tighten. "Erin, the car Elise was driving was found abandoned in a shopping center parking lot in Grand Junction, Colorado."

Though he had spoken in the gentlest of voices, the words triggered a painful explosion of fear just beneath her breastbone. It seemed to suck every particle of oxygen from the air and to cause her heart to swell until it filled her chest. She couldn't breathe.

She slumped back in the corner of the cab. "When?"

"About an hour ago."

His thumbs swept back and forth over the tops of her hands. "Erin. Darling, I'm afraid that you're going to have to accept the possibility, maybe even the probability, that they found her. That she may even be—"

"No! Don't say it! She's fine!" Erin insisted. "I would know it if she weren't. I'd sense it." Her voice held a shrill ring of desperation that bordered on hysteria. She looked at Max pleadingly, her eyes wide and frantic. Then, as though suddenly weary, she leaned her head back against the door. "I know I would," she murmured listlessly.

"Oh, sweetheart, I hope you're right. But even if you are, we're still stymied. If Elise laid down a false trail, then deliberately abandoned that car to throw someone off the scent, she certainly wouldn't be dumb enough to hang around town long. And Grand Junction is a major crossroads. From there she could have taken off in any direction—north into Wyoming, south to Durango or maybe even New Mexico. Or she could have headed east to Denver. She even could have gone to Utah, though I doubt it. The point is, we haven't a clue as to where to look." He paused, still rubbing her hands. "Of course, that's not all bad," he added in what she knew was an attempt to cheer her up. "It also means those two goons are in the dark, too."

Which way would she have gone?
Erin asked herself. S
he's your twin, your other half. You know her better than anyone. So think. Think!
she commanded silently. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her face taut with fierce concentration.

She remained silent for several moments, her mind stretching ... reaching out___

And then it came to her.

Slowly at first, like a distant voice calling in the far reaches of her mind. But gradually it grew closer, more distinct, and with it came an image so sharp and clear that she felt as though she were there, as though she could reach out and touch it.

Erin sat up straight, staring at Max, her expression radiating excitement and absolute certainly. "Vail. She went to Vail."

"Erin.. .honey," Max began patiently. "Look, 1 know you're desperate to find her, but we can't go tearing around the country with nothing to go on."

"Max, I'm positive. I tell you I can feel it."

"Okay, okay. If you say so." He shook his head, his gaze filled with sadness and love. "But why Vail?"

"Our parents and several aunts and uncles jointly own a cabin there. It's available to any of us anytime we want it. Except, of course, when it's rented out. A local real estate firm manages it, and when no one in the family is using the cabin, it's rented—to skiers in the winter and occasionally to summer tourists."

"I see. And you think that's where Elise headed?"

"Yes. Don't you see? It's perfect. Vail is a busy little village, even in the summertime, with people coming and going constantly. She could get lost in the crowds. The cabin is fairly private. It's also free, and by now Elise is probably running low on money. Plus, if I know my sister, she's been calling David for help and getting that stupid answering machine, the same as I have," Erin added, making a disgusted face. "At the cabin she could hole up and wait for him to come to her."

"It's a possibility, I guess," Max conceded, though he did not sound convinced.

"It's more than that, Max, it's... well... a certain feeling I get deep inside. It's never wrong. I tell you, Elise is in Vail."

"And you want to go there, right?"

"Yes. Oh, please, Max," she pleaded gripping his arm. "I have to."

He didn't reply for a moment, and Erin held her breath. If he refused, she would go alone, though she didn't want to.

Finally he flashed a lopsided, resigned smile. "Do you want to drive or fly?"

"Fly. But... your truck—"

"I'll leave it at the airport and pick it up later, when this madness is over."

Erin's shoulders sagged. Leaning forward, she framed his face between her palms and gazed at him, her eyes misty and adoring. He gave so selflessly—no arguing, no lectures, no attempts to persuade her with logic. He might not agree with her decision or even have that much faith in the telepathic link between her and Elise, but that didn't matter. He loved her and accepted her just as she was. If she felt she must follow her feelings and go to Vail, then he would take her. For him it was that simple.

Erin's throat ached with love for him, and as her thumbs caressed the hollows in his cheeks she smiled tremulously and whispered, "Thank you, my darling."

Breathing fire, David Blaine stormed into the office of Global Imports shortly before they closed.

"Where's Sam Lawford's office?" he demanded of the young woman behind the receptionist's desk.

She blinked and stared, startled speechless by the sudden appearance of the lean, tough-looking, absolutely furious man. "I... uh... do you have an appointment, sir?"

"Never mind. I'll find him myself." David spun away and started down the hall.

"Sir, wait! You can't just barge in there without an appointment! Sir!"

She might as well have been talking to the wind. In less than a minute David located the door that bore Sam Law-ford's name.

Wilma Crenshaw started at his brash entry, her hands stilling on the computer keyboard. Her plain face stiffened, and thin gray brows arched imperiously behind steel-rimmed glasses. "May I help you?"

"I want to see Sam Lawford."

His demanding tone sent her brows inching even higher. She gave him a haughty look and made a production of examining the appointment book on her desk. "I'm afraid that is quite impossible. Mr. Lawford is busy at the moment."

"Lady, I don't care if he's in conference with the President of the United States," David said in a low, dangerous voice. Planting his palms on her desk, he leaned over it until his face was mere inches from hers. "I want to see him. Now."

Wilma Crenshaw sucked in an affronted breath and leaned back, her nostrils flaring. "If you would care to make an appointment, I—"

"To hell with that," David growled.

"Just a minute! You can't go in there!"

He charged into the inner office with a sputtering Wilma right on his heels.

At the commotion, the man behind the desk looked up from the papers he was studying, the only change in his expression a slight narrowing of his eyes. David found himself pinned by an icy stare.

"Are you Lawford?"

"Yes." Having delivered the clipped, one-word reply, Sam Lawford waited and watched, not moving so much as a muscle or an eyelash.

Despite the man's stillness and apparent unconcern, David knew he was braced to spring into action. His years with the FBI had taught him to sense danger in men and situations and to meet a threat with whatever it took to subdue it. When David had to, he fought lowdown and dirty, his body as lethal as any weapon devised by man. His well-honed instincts told him he was facing one of his own kind.

"I'm David Blaine, and I want to know what the hell is going on."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Lawford," Wilma inserted. She shot David a furious look, the wattles beneath her chin quivering with outrage. "I tried to stop him, but he just barged right in."

"That's all right, Miss Crenshaw. You may go back to your office."

"But—"

"Leave us, Miss Crenshaw. And hold my calls."

"Very well, if you're sure..." When he nodded she sniffed, poked a hairpin back into the tight bun at her nape and marched out, her thin lips pinched.

"I assume you're referring to this situation your sisters are in," Sam said when the door closed behind the woman.

His voice held not the slightest inflection, and as David met the man's silvery stare he gritted his teeth. Damned icy bastard. "That's right. I returned home this morning after a week of deep-sea fishing off the coast of Mexico and found my answering machine filled with frantic messages from both my sisters. Some babble about a crime and Elise running for her life and Erin chasing after her, along with that other guy, your partner..."

"Max Delany," Sam supplied.

"Right. Now I want to know what the hell is going on around here. So start talking, mister."

"Apparently you know as much as I do."

"Maybe. But suppose you just fill me in on what you know anyway," David insisted silkily.

Taking a seat before the desk, he matched the other man stare for stare, and for a long, tense moment there was absolute silence as each took the other's measure. Then in the distance they heard the faint whine of an eighteen-wheeler climbing the mountain road, and down on the loading dock someone shouted.

Finally Sam nodded. "It seems that, for some unknown reason, Elise came back here late Monday night and saw something that caused her to take off."