Full Throttle Yearning (12 page)

Roxie’s mouth returned to his cock and he almost shot off the bed. The woman had a way with her tongue that even an angel couldn’t beat.

Roxie licked the moisture from his glans, tasting his honey and swallowing. If they got out of this Rowter mess alive, would Charlie and she part ways? Or would they become lovers? When he moved back to Boston, would that be the end? She certainly hadn’t expected to meet such a deliciously sexual man in LA.

She repressed a sigh of foreboding. And she hadn’t thought she’d be pursued by a crazy man bent on killing her, along with the company she was keeping. Her morbid thoughts were cut short when Charlie’s tongue sank against her clit. She almost melted in a pool of pleasure.

She continued to suck his cock, licking every inch of the skin. Sensing that he was about to come, she lifted her lips from his potent erection, and the next thing she knew, he’d flipped her onto her back and he was on top of her. She didn’t care as long as she climaxed. Her thigh muscles were aching and her heart was beating like a bongo drum in anticipation.

“I wanted this in the car,” Charlie murmured, his wild gaze steady on her face.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and whimpered. “Your turn, right?”

In the car you were denied your turn, but now nothing can stop you.

His big cock slid easily into her pussy, filled her to the utmost. Pausing, he lowered his eyes to her tingling, aching breasts. “You’re fantastic, Roxie,” he said, his tone one of awe and reverence.

She said nothing, but reveled in his admiration, smoothed her palms down his spine to his ass. He trailed tiny kisses down the side of her neck and heaved a groan as he reached her left breast. She squeezed his cheeks, then ran her nails lightly across his skin, which elicited a deep moan from him.

He slid deeper into her channel. Her hands stilled on his backside. This time she moaned, turning her head from side to side in ecstasy. “Faster,” she urged impatiently. Her whole body tensed like the taut strings of a violin.

Charlie’s hands drifted to her sides, where he transferred his weight from her. He thrust into her, harder and harder. She closed her eyes against the impending force. Her muscles were screaming in agony now, waiting for blessed release.

He thrust faster and faster and his breathing quickened. With their bodies merged, their entwined souls soared into rapture, if only for a few seconds.

That had been the best sex ever, Charlie decided, waiting for his breathing to even out. His heart beat frantically and a quick glance at Roxie suggested she’d spun off into nirvana too.

“Wow,” she whispered, her body relaxed and still under his.

“That blew my mind,” he told her in a soft voice. Even after only two days, he was beginning to get used to her at his side. How would he be able to return to Boston with the strict, self-imposed injunction to forget about her?

He wouldn’t worry about that. Rowter was still on the loose, and he had to be dealt with first.

The sun had slipped away, leaving the room shrouded in the murky light of rapidly fading dusk. Lifting himself from Roxie, he settled in beside her, threw his arm around her midriff. “I wish this wouldn’t end,” he whispered meaningfully.

Her eyes flashed open and she turned her head to glare at him. “What do you mean?”

She’d misunderstood. “I mean I wish
we
wouldn’t end, even after Rowter is caught.”

She took a deep breath and exhaled. “I wish this Rowter thing had never happened. One day you wake up perfectly normal, leading an ordinary life, then within a few hours someone’s trying to kill you. And you know what the funny thing is? You don’t even know why.”

Charlie shook his head in sympathy. He tried to make light of it. “Thankfully, those days don’t happen too often.”

She snorted. “Hope not.” Roxie caressed his cheek with the back of her knuckles. “Hope your days aren’t too much like this one.”

“No, but Eddie’s might be. Funny thing, I can’t increase his pay either. What would he do with the money if he died on the job?”

“You definitely can’t take it with you,” Roxie agreed.

His phone chirped. He reached down into his jeans and retrieved it. “Yes?”

“Elizabeth will have to be more specific about the city, old man,” Eddie told him without preamble. “There were several missing persons or murders along the Greyhound route, so it would be difficult to pinpoint which one, if any, Rowter was involved in.”

“Anything else?” Charlie asked, not wanting to ask his question out loud in case it frightened Roxie.

“Silence so far. Not hide nor hair of him,” Eddie said, having understood perfectly.

“Great,” Charlie muttered. How long would Roxie and he be here together? Rowter acted like a superman, and Charlie would hate to mess with him on his own.

Roxie’s gaze met his, questioning, searching for her own answers.

“Thanks,” Charlie replied, gave him the information that might help him and hung up. He settled the cell phone on the nightstand.

“Has he been found yet?”

Charlie shook his head.

Her face paled. She shrugged and pulled the bed sheet from under her and covered herself modestly up to her neck. The fun had been replaced by serious, life-threatening business. She slipped into her own world of memories. Her lips trembled.

Charlie wanted to kiss them, to quiet her fears, but restrained himself. Instead he pulled on his jeans and started hoping Roxie would remember something to help Eddie—and them.

Roxie pulled the bed sheet higher, up around her neck. She felt as if she were encased in a warm cocoon where she was safe, but outside lurked danger. And Rowter. She’d explained to Charlie that she’d taken the Greyhound bus so as not to leave a trail that her father’s bodyguards could follow, and that was true. But she’d also wanted to see the country as other people did, not from a privileged point of view. She’d seen many poorer sides of life she wouldn’t have on a jet or in a limo. She’d enjoyed her voyage of discovery, especially the highway signs from days gone by.

Like the old marquees, which had seen their days of glory but were now faded and in disuse. She sighed and shifted her legs to make them more comfortable. Her favourite had been the bronco bucking the cowboy off. Which city had that neglected sign been in?

“Oklahoma,” she breathed, her eyes widening.

“Oklahoma what?” Charlie asked, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her.

“I liked the old marquees and would often look for them on the highway. The sign I liked the best was in that state.”

Charlie’s gaze narrowed speculatively. “What can you tell me about your favorite?”

“It was right in line with what I was trying to do for myself. Find a modicum of freedom.” Yet here she was imprisoned in a strange house because a madman was trying to kill her. Sadness arrowed through her. “It was a very faded sign. Of a bronco bucking off a cowboy.”

Charlie laid a warm hand over hers. “You did good. That should be enough for Eddie.”

Minutes later, Charlie’s friend told him the bronco marquee belonged to the West Winds Motel in Erick, Oklahoma. Roxie felt relief surge through her. “Then the man disappeared there,” she said with some satisfaction.

Charlie remained on the phone with his friend. The search ended quickly. “Jasper Bartol is the man who was found dead in the restrooms in the bus station at Erick.”

Roxie started to shake uncontrollably. “Jasper Bartol? Are you sure?” she asked, her voice becoming reedy.

Charlie frowned. “Yeah. Do you know him?”

“I heard my father talk about him several times. Father would never let me meet him and he thought he kept him a secret from me. Jasper is supposed to be my bastard half brother.” She paused, a heavy lump forming in her throat. “If we’re related, then that’s why he was killed. Rowter wants to get even with my dad, so all his children count as dead now.”

Charlie cringed. Rowter wouldn’t rest until he found Roxie. Patting her hand, he relayed the information to Eddie.

His friend stayed silent for a moment longer than was necessary, then said, “Rowter was seen getting on a bus earlier today.”

Charlie nodded. “Let me guess. He’s headed this way.”

“Yeah, but the only catch is, he’s probably there already.”

His heart hammering in his chest, Charlie ended the call. “Get dressed,” he told Roxie.

She gave him a questioning look, or so he thought, but it was hard to see her expression in the darkness. He flipped the bed lamp on. Nothing happened.

“Charlie?” Roxie whispered.

He heard the edge of fear in her voice.

“Can you get dressed in the dark?” he asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“He’s here, isn’t he?” she asked in so quiet a voice that he barely heard her.

“I think so, but Hector and a plainclothes cop are outside. He can’t get in here. We’re safe.”

The sound he’d heard moments earlier, a slight scuff as of a worn shoe, came again. “I wouldn’t bet on it,” a deep, gravelly voice told them. “Where they are, they can’t help you.”

Roxie repressed a cry of abject fear. She didn’t doubt for a moment that Rowter was telling the truth. The outline of his bulky body was almost invisible in the dark. She clapped her hand over her mouth and bit into her lower lip. It was up to Charlie and her to help themselves. There was no one else.

“Why, Rowter? Why wait until now to kill Roxie? Why didn’t you do it on the bus?” Charlie asked, his voice strong and purposeful.

He’s not going down without a fight. Me neither. I might be naked but I can fight dirty if I have to.

An idea hit her out of the blue. She’d entice Rowter into bed with her, then hit him on the head with the lamp. But she waited for Rowter’s reply to Charlie’s question. She wanted to know too.

“I wanted her to know that I take care of my own, that I’ll put her in such pain she’ll be begging me to kill her. My son did that. Day after day, he suffered with lung cancer.” His voice rose to a shout.

Horrified, Roxie cringed. The man
was
mad. How could he take five lives for his son’s? That savage act wouldn’t bring the boy back. Her heart ached for the three who were gone.

Rowter went on. “Mark suffered for months. You know why? Because your father was too much of a heartless bastard to foot the medical bills so he could get the care he needed. If he had, Mark would have survived. He was a fighter. He wouldn’t have just laid down and died.

“I worked for your father for twenty-three years. I cleaned up the messes he didn’t have the courage to clean up. I
killed
for him, yet he couldn’t give a few lousy dollars to help my son.” His voice trailed off. “Just a hundred thousand so he could get the best care possible.”

Roxie felt his pain like a deep knife stabbing her in the back. “Killing me won’t bring Mark back,” she said soothingly. “Do you have other children?”

“Mark was my only son. I fucked up my life so bad, and by the time I realized I had, it was too late to have other children. Look at me!” he yelled in fury. “ I’m going to die soon. Heart disease. But I promised myself I’d take you with me. Then your father will know what it’s like to lose all his kids.”

Roxie couldn’t make him out clearly but she directed her voice at him. “Why don’t you make love to me? We could try for another kid for you.” She threw off the bed sheet.

She heard Charlie suck in a deep breath. Rowter grunted as if he were in pain and she heard the words, “Dear. God. In. Heaven.”

Charlie leaped into action. “Get down!” he ordered Roxie, and sprang forward. Roxie rolled off the bed and onto the floor, hopefully to safety. Looked as if she’d killed a man.

Charlie knew the signs of a heart attack when he heard them. He reached Rowter in a sprint and knocked the gun from his hand. Rowter had probably been dead before he hit the floor. He sighed. “Poor bastard. Talk about poetic justice.”

He checked for a pulse but Rowter was gone. “Maybe you can see your son on the other side,” he whispered, his heart going out to the other man. Yet he steeled himself. Rowter had told them he’d killed Hector and the plainclothes cop. Charlie hoped to hell he hadn’t. A death for a death didn’t right a wrong.