Into the Whirlwind (8 page)

“I don't know. She ever mention him?”

Meg fell silent, trying to remember, then shook her head. “I don't think so. But we didn't talk much. I was either going out or tired after coming home from work.”

“Luke was in her apartment, but he didn't really get a chance to look around. I'm going back. Maybe I can get a fingerprint, something to identify this guy. You talk to Rose, see if she's heard the name.”

Meg nodded and headed off to speak to the housekeeper.

Luke had left a couple of hours ago. Now the familiar, two-and-one rap at the door said he was back.

Dirk scrubbed a hand over his face. He was bone-tired. With any luck, Luke had brought him something clean to wear. Maybe a shower and fresh clothes would help bring him back to life.

Meg must have heard the knock. Dirk glanced over as she walked up to the door, checked the peephole, then unlocked the dead bolt. “Come on in,” she said to Luke. A gust of wind blew in behind him.

“Have you heard anything?” Meg asked him.

“Not yet. Sadie may have caught a lead.” In a long-sleeve, faded army T-shirt and jeans tucked into soft, rough-out, knee-high moccasins, footwear Luke favored, he sauntered over to Dirk, tossed a yellow canvas satchel at his feet. “You talked to her, right? You know about Sandoval?”

“I know.”

“I asked Mrs. Wills,” Meg said. “Pamela never mentioned him.”

Dirk leaned down and grabbed the satchel, shoved back the dining chair, and stood up. “I'm going upstairs to shower and change. Then I'm heading back to Pam's apartment, taking a fingerprint kit. Maybe we can find out who this guy Sandoval really is.”

“I'll catch a few z's on the sofa while you're upstairs.” Luke could sleep anywhere; they both could. It was part of their military training. Just a couple of minutes could make all the difference in a guy's reactions. Maybe when he got back, he'd crash for an hour himself, try to recoup a little.

Dirk took off for the guest bedroom he had slept in when he was there protecting Meg. There was a queen bed and a bath with a shower. He'd rather be climbing into either one of them with Meg, but he wasn't a masochist so that wasn't going to happen.

Dirk stayed in the shower a little longer than he'd intended, wound up cranking the temperature down to cold when an image of Meg popped into his head. Meg on the tour, lying naked on top of him in the big bed in her plush hotel suite. Remembering the way her fiery hair fanned over his chest, he started getting hard.

Since he didn't have time for fantasies about a woman he could never have and could no longer risk wanting, he turned off the water and climbed out of the shower, determined to focus on bringing her little boy home.

Dressed in clean, faded jeans and a forest-green Henley, back in his comfortable low-topped leather work boots, he headed downstairs. Asleep on the sofa, Luke woke up as Dirk's foot hit the last stair, sat up wide awake and completely alert. “You ready?”

“I'm ready. If there's no sign of anyone watching the house when we get back, we'll stop and knock on some doors, see if someone saw something that might prove useful.”

Luke nodded. His intense blue gaze swung to Meg. “You okay here by yourself?”

Meg started shaking her head, shifting layers of silky hair across her shoulders. Dirk's groin tightened. He itched to grab a fistful, wrap the soft strands around his hand, and drag her mouth up to his for a deep, burning kiss.

Christ alive, the shower hadn't helped. Instead, the hunger was getting worse, the craving he had felt for her the first time he had seen her. Somehow he had to make it end.

“I want to go with you,” she said.

Pamela was off with the kidnappers. It would probably be safe enough to bring her along, but he desperately needed some time away from her.

“You need to stay here in case the kidnappers call. If they do, just remember it'll be recorded. Try to keep them talking long enough to get a trace.”

“You think they'll call?”

“No. I think they'll stick to the schedule, but there's no way to be sure. Rose is here and your dad's on his way. You'll be okay.”

He turned to Luke. “They already know who we are, and Pam isn't there anyway. Let's take my car.”

A broad grin spread over Luke's face. He loved the Viper. “Good idea” was all he said.

Chapter Eight

Meg nibbled a piece of the melba toast she kept in the house for Charlie. Her stomach felt shaky from lack of food and not being able to sleep. Her eyes felt gritty from too much crying.

She had to get hold of herself, had to be strong for her son.
What would Valentine do?

It was a joke. Sort of. Valentine Hart, her best friend's stage name, was one of the models whose life had been threatened when they were on tour. Val had once saved Isabel Rafaeli by cracking Izzy's attacker over the head with a curling iron. Val was softly feminine, with enough self-confidence to lean on a man when she needed him. But she was tough as nails when she had to be.

Meg thought of her friend, and the things that had happened to her on the tour, and resolve settled deep in her bones. She had cried enough. She had to eat, had to sleep, had to regain her strength. Charlie needed her. She intended to be as strong as Val had been.

She finished the melba toast, walked over, and opened the pantry. Tears threatened when she looked at the box of Cocoa Puffs Charlie so dearly loved.

Ruthlessly, she forced the memory away, though her hand shook as she took the box down from the shelf. Walking over to the cupboard, she grabbed a bowl, filled it with cereal, and added milk.

Seating herself at the kitchen table, she forced herself to eat every bite.

Mrs. Wills walked in just as she finished. “Good girl. You're taking care of yourself. That's important. Now you need to get some sleep.”

“I'm going to try. I need to sleep, but I don't know if I can.”

“Just do your best. You'll need your strength when Charlie comes home.”

Meg ignored the tightness that suddenly rose in her throat. Carrying her dishes to the sink, she rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher, then headed for the stairs. The Cocoa Puffs had settled her stomach and given her a little strength. She curled up on top of the mattress and closed her eyes, but sleep still wouldn't come.

She stared at the ceiling for long, endless moments, finally deciding she'd stay in bed till Dirk got back.

Dirk.
She had known the instant she had seen him, seen the hard, compelling planes of his face, how difficult having him in the house was going to be. He was tough and strong, his beautiful, amazing body honed to flesh-covered steel. Everything about him appealed to her on a physical level. Add to that, he was smart and loyal and caring.

It would be so easy to fall back into the trap of loving him. In truth, she had never stopped. But nothing had changed. He was still wild and untamed and she was still a mother with a child to raise.

She tried not to think what it would be like to lie with him again, to feel that hard body pressing her down in the mattress as he took her with wild abandon, giving her pleasure unlike any she'd ever known.

Having him make love to her would ease some of the pain, free her mind for a few precious moments from the terror, the fear for her baby, the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

Meg bit her lip. Even if she went to him and begged him to take her, Dirk would refuse. She had cut him out of her life with knife-sharp precision. One day they were laughing together. The next she had sent him away without a hint of warning.

Meg closed her eyes against the images rolling around in her head. She and Dirk in bed, her snuggling against his shoulder. Then Meg and little Charlie, his small hand in hers as they hurried along the path at the zoo, Charlie bubbling with excitement at seeing the zebra, the black-and-white horsey, he called it.

Sadness threatened to swamp her. She thought of Val and how strong she was, and refused to let it happen again.

Weariness settled over her, invading every muscle and joint. She tried to turn her mind into a flat black canvas, tried not to think at all.

But she still couldn't fall asleep.

* * *

“How you holding up?” Luke was driving.

In a moment of stupidity, Dirk had weakened and let him get behind the wheel. They were going too fast, the engine revved to whining. Luke slammed on the brakes and took a corner, hit the gas, shifted, and revved the engine again. Luke Brodie never went slow.

“I could use a couple of hours' sleep, give my brain a chance to catch up.”

“That's not what I meant, bro, and you know it.”

He knew it, wished he didn't have to answer. But Luke would just dog him until he did. “Truth is, it's hard to think when I'm around her. It's probably that perfume she wears, you know? It smells like flowers. Gets into my head.”

“It doesn't get in my head, and therein lies the problem. It's not Meg's perfume that's driving you crazy. It's Meg. She's still got you by the balls, bro, and I think you know it.”

Dirk ignored a shot of irritation. “What do you want me to do? Throw her to the wolves? Leave her little boy in the hands of those frigging gangsters?”

“No. I'm just saying ... you need to keep your head in the game, put your feelings for Meg on a back burner. You can do it. We've both been trained to compartmentalize. Call what's her name when this is over. Stella. Get a little—hell, get a lot. Get your brain unclogged and you'll feel a whole lot better.”

Screwing some babe he wouldn't remember the next day was definitely what Luke would do. Then again, Luke had never had it this bad for a woman.

“What is it about her, anyway? I get she's beautiful. She's a lingerie model. Got the perfect body and all that, but still. There's gotta be something special about her. Right?”

Dirk sighed, resigned to finishing the discussion. “I can't explain it exactly. Maybe it's just pheromones or something. I wanted her the first time I saw her. The more I got to know her, the more I liked her. She's sweet and she can be funny. She was good at her job and I could tell she was a really great mom. She was all bottled up when I met her. In bed, I mean. I don't think her ex was much into sex. Or at least not into sex with his wife. With me . . . well, once I got her going, it was like I'd unleashed a tiger.”

Luke chuckled. “Way better than Stella, I guess.”

There was no need to answer that. “And there's this thing when she looks at me. Like I'm some kind of hero. That's what she thinks. That's the reason she came to me to rescue her son. Christ, I don't want to let her down.”

“You're not gonna let her down. We're gonna catch those pricks and bring her kid home.” Luke sliced Dirk a look. “You do that, maybe she'll take you back.”

Dirk started shaking his head. “No way. I'm not taking a risk like that again. And you're right about getting my head straight. From now on, Meg's just a piece of furniture I have to walk past when I'm in the house.”

Luke grinned, a tiny dimple showing in his left cheek. It drove women crazy. “Just a few more days, bro, this'll all be over.”

Luke was right. Just a few more days. Dirk prayed all the promises he'd made to Meg about bringing her son home safe wouldn't be just hot air he'd spouted to try to ease her fear.

Luke rounded another corner and slammed on the brakes, jarring him out of his thoughts. The Viper slid to a stop on a side street next to Pamela's apartment building. “Let's go see what Charlie's babysitter can tell us.”

Dirk grabbed his fingerprint kit from behind the seat and they headed around the building, a four-unit, two-story structure that had recently been painted a slightly too bright shade of blue.

They slipped into the tiny, nothing backyard and went in through the rear door, the way Luke had entered the night before. After clearing the house, confirming no one was home, they set to work.

The apartment wasn't much. Off-white walls and unimaginative brown carpet. But Pamela had made the place her own with bright floral posters and colorful throw pillows on the beige sofa and chair. No photos sitting around. She definitely wasn't coming back.

While Luke searched for anything that might have DNA, Dirk dusted for fingerprints in the bedroom, figuring the only prints there would likely be Pam's or Sandoval's.

Luke ambled in through the open bedroom door. “Find anything?”

“I got a nice print off the clock on the bedside table. There's a box of Kleenex and some K-Y Jelly in the drawer on the left, some rubbers on the right. I'm thinking Sandoval slept on the right. If so, the print could be his.”

Luke held up a brown paper evidence bag. “Starbucks coffee cup. Found it in the trash. It was buried pretty deep. I figure a couple of days old.”

“There's a coffee machine on the kitchen counter so it's probably not Pam's.”

Luke grinned. “Prints and DNA. This could be our lucky day.”

“Could be. But if this guy's involved, I'm thinking he's not a major player. Not smart enough. So far the kidnappers have been very careful. Sandoval is a wild card. My guess, he's in for a share of whatever Pam's getting. Those guys may not even know he exists.”

“If you're right, he's probably expendable.”

“Yeah, and likely Pamela, too. No loose ends.”

“Let's find this guy. Maybe he'll lead us to Pam and the kid.”

Dirk and Luke left the apartment the way they'd come in. One thing Dirk knew: He was driving the Viper back to Meg's.