Hide and Seek (8 page)

"Enough!"

He grinned, satisfied to have breached her armor and watch color infuse her cheeks. Heaven knew he’d eat his best Stetson to know what she was thinking. How he wanted to further break through her stiff reserve, to discover her touch and prove he wouldn't misuse his strength. Yet, to get stupid over a woman again would be like feeding his heart to a meat-grinder. Women always left him, and he had received a lifetime of rejection.

Later, he lay peering up into the darkness. Like a maddening chigger, Caprice O'Brien had crawled under his skin and irritated him to no end. He inhaled, sliding his hands under his head. It was a damned good thing he could rationally and sensibly list her numerous faults. In particular, her West Virginia drawl was as strong as her coffee was weak. Her jade eyes were too large, her thick, auburn hair much too…too shiny, and her thoroughbred legs, too long. Never had he seen so many freckles on one infuriating woman, and worst of all...she knew more about fly fishing than he did.

Forcing away torturous images of soft, round breasts, he closed his eyes.

Double, double, toil and trouble…

To his way of thinking, Esmeralda, Gemma, and Caprice were three bothersome females who had joined forces to stir up a huge cauldron of trouble.

Before eight the following morning, Holt joined his father inside the house while Caprice and Shawn slept. Jack set a mug filled with steaming coffee onto the kitchen table. He took a chair, and Holt leaned against the counter.

Jack gestured to the mug in Holt’s hands. “Your morning brew was made with bottled water. By the way, I went out once during the night to put more gas in the generator," Jack said. "Paid her some attention and she continued to purr."

"Dad, the insurance companies will be scrambling for several weeks. It may be sometime before an agent can inspect the house. Board up and come home with me. I could always use another hand."

“Another hand? I was never cut out to unload a breech calf from the hanger of a bovine." His father shook a finger at him and laughed. "Show me a flight simulator for that."

"There’s plenty of retirees living in Okaloosa County with Eglin Air Force Base right there,” he said but his father shrugged unimpressed.

“I have clearance to Langley, and Ft. Lee.”

“What would it take to get you to return to Elixir for good?"

Jack’s expression turned thoughtful. “A woman with staying power.”

Holt looked outside. In the distance someone was hammering. Nearby, neighbors greeted one another as they put their lives back together. A woman laughed. Even in adversity, people fought back and tapped into their humor.

"What's your ETA for Commerce?" Jack asked.

"It was two this afternoon." Experiencing a fresh surge of impatience, Holt consulted his watch. "We should have left two hours ago, but I don't have the heart to wake Caprice."

Jack's eyes twinkled. "Sleep well? Must have been hard, eh?"

“Don’t start.” Holt glowered and remembered his aching physical reactions. "She's all frozen inside because of her ex.”

"Roger that. I witnessed her jitters last night. She could use a month of rest and recreation in the mountains." His father’s face softened. “Son, you live on that ranch like a whipped cur. It’s been ages since Lilah sent you into a tailspin. Don’t you think it's time to throttle forward and climb out of that rain cloud?”

Holt’s chest tightened. "There are some lessons I’m not soon to forget.”

“Maybe what you need is a swift kick in the ass.”

Kick?
Holt suppressed a shudder. “The hell you say.”

Jack raised his hands in a placating manner. “Just to clear your thinking, is all, but since you out-weigh me now by a hundred pounds, I’m not the man for the job.”

“I’m taking Caprice to Georgia. After today, I won’t see her again."

Jack slammed his fist on the table. A spoon rattled and dark liquid sloshed over his mug's thick rim. "When it comes to females, we're jinxed. Let's face it, Holt. Your temperamental bulls have a better social life than we do."

****

While the Freelander cruised south and crossed into North Carolina, Caprice sat on the sofa with Shawn. She kept his attention by pointing to glossy magazine images of magnificent red and black Limousin bulls with first place, and best-in-show ribbons attached to their leather halters.

Shawn grew bored and retrieved his crayons from the red duffle, and Caprice consulted her watch. It was noon. She still had time to make her five o’clock meeting.

They whizzed past sun-struck trees. The yellow and orange blur of lilies in the highway’s median reminded her of Monet and Renoir's rich works. Like a lace border on Irish linen, pastures were edged by verdant forests.

Her fingers flexed and she imagined herself poised with a horse-hair paintbrush between her fingers. Yet, it would take courage to face a blank canvas again, to mix oils, and smell solvents without the haunting image of Sandra Lovelace’s luminous brown eyes.

Soon Holt decelerated and parked in the picnic area of a rest stop. From his place on the floor beside the shepherd, Shawn finger-signed “A” for Armor. He faced his palms toward the floor and swung his out-stretched hands from side to side.

Glad for the distraction, Caprice nodded. "Let’s ask Holt if you can walk him."

She watched Holt unfold his length from the driver's seat. He was tall and his wide shoulder span exuded boundless strength. Low slung jeans covered narrow hips and long, powerful thighs. His dark gaze ensnared hers. Soon they would be parting, but she was still curious about his past and the reasons for his broken marriage.

"Shawn wants to walk Armor," she said.

"Let him. Do you own a dog?”

“No. I never grew up with them, and we don’t have room for a pet in our townhouse. Dogs need a place to run,” she said, hating the defensive pitch in her voice. “They need to be fed and brushed.”

“Shawn.”

“But, he’s only five.” When Holt grimaced, she stared. “You think, I over indulge him because of his handicap, don’t you?”

“A dog will teach him responsibility.”

She was still considering Holt’s words when they stepped outside. Scattered among a large stand of maple trees were several picnic tables occupied by vacationing families and couples, young and old. Shawn led Armor along a chain-link fence, and the pair became partially hidden as they stepped among crepe myrtle trees heavily laden with coral blossoms.

Holt gestured to a shaded pavilion yards from the motorhome and the rest stop’s curving road. Caprice sat beside him on the concrete bench and pressed her back to the table’s edge as katydids filled the air with their buzzing crescendos.

Holt leaned forward, rested his elbows on spread knees, and clasped his hands. Granted, they were strong hands that could snap her bones on a whim, but Holt had also rubbed Armor behind the ears, and patted his father's shoulder to comfort him in a private moment. In companionable silence, they watched as Shawn ran, urging Armor into a game of hide-and-seek among the thick shrubbery.

Finally Holt spoke. "What are your plans?"

"When it’s safe to return to Charleston, I’ll continue building my mural business. In the meantime, Shawn will benefit from seeing Grace and spending time with my two nephews.”

"Shawn needs a father, not one in name only. And you shouldn’t be alone, Caprice. Do you date?"

"I’m too busy for all that. Besides, you should talk. How long have you been divorced?"

"Five years."

“Jack says Lilah left you, but why?”

“My father talks too much,” he said, his ears turning ruddy. “But, it was no secret that she hated the ranch’s isolation.” He shook his head. "I'll never take that chance with a woman again. That’s how I want it." Before she could think to ask any more questions, he said, “By now, I’m pretty damned sure you know something that will keep Montero from getting elected. Right?”

She straightened, sensing where this conversation was leading. "After today, we won't see each other again."

“We’ve formed a friendship of sorts. We’ll stay in contact.” His eyes narrowed. "What is so important about those plans that Montero would send his suits after you?”

“Just some information,” she said lightly, but her abdomen muscles seized under his hard scrutiny. “Once I’ve handed the pl…” She cleared her throat. “...handed it into the proper authorities, Alan will go to prison, and I'll never worry again."

"If you told me what
it
is…maybe I could help.”

Feeling boxed-in, she fanned herself. "My, it's so hot and still…like the calm before a storm. What time is it? Do you think we'll reach Commerce in time, so I can make my meeting?"

Their gazes locked, a willful clashing, until humor tugged at Holt's full lips. "Lady, pretty as you are…and as much as you’ve addled my ability to think rationally, I’m gonna be only too happy to wash my hands of you."

His off-handed compliment made her smile as he removed a map from his back pocket and unfolded it. "We'll make Commerce by four o’clock.”

“Then we’ve made decent time," she said, stunned by a pang of melancholy at their parting. "Holt, you have been..."

From her peripheral, sunlight reflected and flashed on the windshield of an approaching car. She sat straighter, finding security in Holt’s presence. She looked over his shoulder for a better view and froze. "Damn.”

"What is it?”

Fear's stinging needles pierced her torso as she met Holt’s narrowed gaze. "A black Cadillac sedan with West Virginia plates just turned in from the highway."

Chapter Five

“Where’s Shawn?” Fighting waves of suffocating panic, Caprice stood, her gaze darting among the bushes. "Where’s my son!"

Holt's big hands gripped her hips and he pulled her down beside him. Moving close, using his upper body, he shielded her from the driver’s view. "Can you see who’s driving? Montero?"

"No. It’s Angelo.” She shuddered, looking over Holt’s shoulder. "I’d know that pock-faced profile anywhere.”

"Put your arms around me."

“What?” She met his dark gaze. "I want my son!"

“Caprice, stay calm.” He gripped her elbow, drawing her to his solid middle. "We're honeymooners.”

She understood, yet every muscle resisted. "I can't see Shawn."

"Shh,” Holt soothed, pressing her head onto his shoulder and his shirt’s sun-warmed cotton. “I see them from this angle. Shawn’s safe behind those trees. Armor's one to take his time, investigating every leaf, twig, or grass blade that touches his nose.” Holt’s big fingers swept her hair away from prying eyes. "Run your hand over my back."

She smoothed her hand along his muscles, over massive shoulders then tangled her fingers into the long, thick strands of Holt's restrained hair.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

Caprice closed her eyes furious with herself. If she had never called Alan in an indignant rage after finding the planner, she wouldn’t be in this horrible predicament now. Like a black cat, the sedan crept along, and she knew Angelo was searching for them among the picnickers.

Yet, was it possible to hide in plain sight? Apparently, Holt thought so. After all, there were several recreational vehicles. When she shuddered, Holt’s arms tighten reassuringly.

As the Cadillac’s brakes squealed from slight pressure, she clutched Holt’s shoulder. “How does Alan know my every move?"

"Listen to me,” he commanded softly, his breath warming her ear. “Would this guy recognize Shawn?"

“Since I left Alan, Shawn has grown taller. His hair is a little longer and sun-lightened.”

“Good girl! That’s some rational thinking.” He took her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Any moron would guess we want privacy.” His baritone schooled and had a soothing effect. “Make it convincing, Caprice." Holt’s warm lips brushed hers, but never took or stole.

Her fingers lingered along his tanned neck while his forearm rested against her breast, heating her skin through her tank top. At the same time, fright created by the ominous sound of the idling engine formed knots in her stomach.

Seconds felt like hours before the vehicle finally rolled away, putting distance between them. Blessed relief sent the blood flowing to Caprice’s muscles once again. She shifted to get up, but like a committed dance partner, Holt's arm encircled her middle. “Wait until he’s out of sight.”

After a moment, Holt released her then put two fingers to his lips and blew shrilly. Armor came out from behind a clump of bushes. He lunged against the leash and drew Shawn behind him.

Holt took the leash from Shawn, and Caprice bent to hug her son, to press her lips to his head. For her peace-of- mind, she silently vowed to never let him out of her sight again.

When she straightened, Holt’s gray eyes were burning with questions. “We need to go,” she said before he could speak. With Commerce two hours away, she planned to borrow Grace’s car and keep her meeting with Agent Lyons.

After Caprice made sure Shawn was buckled in at the table and content coloring, she shut the curtains against the afternoon glare then sat in the cab’s passenger seat. She glanced at Holt, but his lips were compressed. His beard kept her from reading his expression, but for a brief moment in time, their lives had become entangled like a thorny, blackberry bramble. She sensed that Shawn's well-being had been paramount to Holt too. Their lives were as different and as distant as the miles between their homes, but Caprice realized she would trust Holt with her life.

"I’ll need directions," he said.

Caprice drew a slip of paper from her pocket. "Once we enter Commerce, turn left onto Woodbridge Road then left again onto Elm Street.” She looked up. "The house is on the right."

Holt turned onto Elm. They drove through a quiet neighborhood, under trees with drooping branches that brushed and scraped the camper's roof. Grace's rambling red brick home sat nestled among several stately conifers on a sun-dappled lawn. At the end of a short drive was a basketball hoop. Beneath the hoop, Caprice recognized her nephews' bikes, their knobby tires caked in red clay.