JAKrentz - Uneasy Alliance (18 page)

"There's no need to yell at me, Torr."

"I am not yelling at you," he bit out roughly, "but if you want to know the truth, I'm seriously considering doing a lot more than that. Right now I could cheerfully take my belt to that sweet backside of yours. Thanks to your idiotic refusal to follow orders, we've overlooked one of the prime suspects. A man who may very well be a little sick in the head from the way you've described him. A man who fits the profile. How many other possible candidates have you left off the list?"

"None! I haven't left anyone else off except… except—" her voice lowered and became almost inaudible "—maybe a couple of people who couldn't possibly have…"

"Such as?" Torr demanded.

Abby glared at him, her mouth tight with resentment. He was standing with his feet braced slightly apart, his hands fitted to his hips. The controlled aggression in him was so strong she half expected to see it manifest itself in some visible form.

"Torr, if you start listing every possible candidate, there'd be no stopping. Good grief! How many brown-haired men do you think I've met in my life?"

"I have no idea. I've asked you to tell me. On several occasions."

"Look, if I started doing that I'd have to include people like Ward!"

"Tyson? Your cousin's husband? He's got brown hair?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"He's into photography?"

"Judging from the number of photos of the baby I get every couple of weeks, I suppose you could say that," Abby shot back caustically. "Torr, every new father is into photography."

"Who else?" He ignored her angry response.

"I don't know! I can't think of anyone else. Torr, you're acting as though you're conducting an inquisition!"

"You're right," he muttered, gliding forward until he was only inches away from the couch, scowling down at her. "What's more, you're going to submit to it. If you'd done things right the first time instead of in your usual haphazard undisciplined style, we wouldn't be going through this tonight. I was a fool to go so easy on you. I should have known that unless I pushed, you wouldn't really give your full attention to that list. From the beginning I've been far too cautious with you."

"I'm not one of your employees!"

He reached down, his large hands closing around her upper arms. As if she were light as a feather, he lifted her a few inches off the floor, holding her so that she was eye to eye with him. "You can say that again," Torr admonished. "You're not an employee. You're my woman. It is my responsibility to protect you. You will obey clear and reasonable orders from me when your safety is involved. Is that simple enough for you? Do you understand exactly what I'm saying?"

Abby blinked, helpless in his iron grasp, feeling idiotically vulnerable in her near-nakedness. Somehow Torr didn't seem at all vulnerable in his lack of clothing. Sheer masculine dominance was more than adequate to cloak him. She swallowed and then said in a very low voice, "I understand."

"Excellent," he replied silkily. He lowered her so that her feet found the floor, then continued to lean intimidatingly over her. "Look at me, Abby." Gnawing her lip warily, she obeyed. "We've played this waiting game long enough. Tomorrow we act. We've got enough leads to pursue now. Too many to justify sitting here like a couple of clay pigeons. In the morning we'll head for Seattle. I want to talk to Tyson."

"Ward? But, Torr, I didn't want to bring him into this."

"He's already into it. I should have tackled him in the beginning," Torr muttered in disgust. "Instead I let myself be persuaded to go along with your plans."

"But Ward can't be the blackmailer! It makes no sense!"

"I didn't say he was. But he's part of this mess one way or another and it's time we informed him of that fact."

"I don't want to handle it that way."

"What you want is not particularly important to me at the moment, Abby. Getting you out of this crazy situation is all that matters right now. Go upstairs and climb into bed. It's late and we'll be leaving here first thing in the morning. I'll take care of the fire."

He turned away without waiting for her response and began settling the remains of the flickering logs with a set of brass tongs. Torr heard Abby move around behind him, silently collecting her clothing and starting across the floor to the staircase. His hand tightened on the cold brass in his grip as he waited to see which room she would go to when she reached the top of the stairs.

He'd been a little rough on her, he acknowledged grimly. But he'd had no choice. What had she expected him to do when he realized how severely she had hampered the investigation by not cooperating fully when he had asked for names for the list? Of course she hadn't intentionally refused to cooperate. It was simply that she was used to doing things her own way—haphazardly, without discipline.

While he approached everything in a far more thorough fashion.

She was at the top of the stairs now. He could barely hear the pad of her feet on the hardwood floor. She hadn't said a word when he'd ordered her up to bed. Just turned and climbed the stairs.

He shouldn't have chewed her out like that, he told himself. She was probably furious. Her anger he could handle. It was having her afraid of him that worried him. Had he frightened her with his tirade? Undone all the progress he'd made this past week?

The questions ravaged him as he hung up the tongs and pulled the screen shut in front of the hot coals. She'd deserved the tongue-lashing. As he'd told her, she was lucky that was all it amounted to tonight. If she was going to run upstairs and cower in her own room he would just have to follow her inside and yank her back out. From now on she belonged in his bed and it was time she knew it. Matters were too serious at the moment to allow her the luxury of taking her time.

The scrape of the screen in front of the fire hid the last of Abby's footsteps. When Torr straightened and started for the stairs all was silent on the floor above. Which bedroom had she entered? he wondered.

He stalked up the stairs two at a time, aware of a pounding in his veins that was composed of equal parts of desire, irritation and fear. Fear that everything he'd managed to accomplish this past week had come apart in his hands because of those newspaper clippings and because he'd reached the end of his patience.

Which bedroom?

He strode past his own room, which was still dark, and came to a halt in front of the closed door of the room Abby had been using. He would be kind but firm. No, he would be polite and as gallant as possible. He'd try to repair a few of the fences he'd just ripped apart. He'd try to talk to her, apologize but explain that he hadn't any real choice. There were things that had to be done.

Hell, he'd simply go in there and pull her out of bed, toss her over his shoulder and carry her back to his room. One way or another she was going to learn something important tonight.

Half expecting to find the door locked, Torr wrenched the handle. It opened easily and he found himself gazing through the shadows into a still-made bed.

Anticipation and an incredible relief sizzled in him. She hadn't crept back to the safety of her own room! Spinning around he paced back down the hall to his bedroom. Pushing open the door he stepped inside, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness.

It wasn't hard to pick out Abby's gentle curves under the quilt.

"You lied to me," she murmured.

"No." His protest was soft, almost anguished. He couldn't move.

"Yes, you did." She held a corner of the quilt back, silently inviting him into the bed. "You said you never pounce."

Torr closed his eyes briefly in rueful relief and then opened them and started forward. "Do you feel pounced upon?"

"Very. Physically and verbally." But her eyes were gleaming and Torr groaned heavily as he lay down beside her.

"How was I to know you would bring out the beast in me?"

"I think it came out naturally."

Torr's mouth moved over hers before she could say anything else. This time, he promised himself, he would take it slow, warm her with care and attention to detail until she cried out for more. He wanted to hear his name on her lips over and over again. He'd never get his fill of that soft demand.

T
he next morning
Abby grumblingly accepted Torr's decision on the subject of confronting Ward Tyson. She did not do so without protest, however. Torr endured the complaints, arguments, reasoned logic and infuriated pleas with stoic patience all during breakfast, the packing of the car and the drive back toward Portland and then north to Seattle. It was a long trip, several hours in fact, and Abby tried not to waste a minute of the time.

"I see no reason to involve Ward at this point. He can't do anything and he might feel that he has to tell Cynthia the truth about that weekend in order to get me off the hook," she began.

"He might," Torr agreed.

"Well, I don't want Cynthia told. That's the whole object of this exercise!"

"Certainly the blackmailer's logic."

"Torr, I'm talking about a lifetime relationship with my cousin which will be ruined by all this."

"Just remember that you didn't ruin it. Tyson did."

"Ruining that marriage will be an even more damaging act," she argued. "I don't see why we have to do anything at this point. Give it a little more time."

"Time only serves on the blackmailer's side. It gives him an opportunity to work on your nerves, wear you down and wear you out. Tyson is not the only man we're going to see. As soon as an actual extortion attempt is made, we're going to call in the police. I'd do it now except for the fact that all we have are pictures and implied threats."

Abby stared at him. "You seemed like such a nice man when I first met you!"

"What am I now?"

"Domineering, arrogant and overbearing," she declared with a certain malicious satisfaction. "You've taken over my life and it worries me because I don't know how to stop you or control you."

"When this is all over I promise you will find me easy enough to manage again." The assurance was gently given and Abby didn't trust it for an instant.

"Will you listen to me while I try to explain why I don't want to contact Ward at this point," she muttered, folding her arms across her breasts while she sat stiffly in the car seat.

"I don't have much of a choice except to listen, do I? It's a small car."

"But you're not going to pay any attention, right?"

"We're going to talk to Tyson, honey," he said with great finality.

Abby dreaded the meeting for the entire length of the drive. Several hours later as Torr followed her directions off Interstate 5 into downtown Seattle, she was wildly considering leading him on a goose chase through the high-rise office buildings. But something about the grim manner in which he drove convinced her that might not be the wisest move. With a sigh she guided him to the underground parking lot of the building that housed the headquarters of Lyndon Technologies.

She had expected anything from astonishment to shock on Ward's handsome face when his secretary showed them into his office. But she couldn't possibly have anticipated his half-furious, half-relieved greeting.

"Where on earth have you been, Abby? I've been trying to get hold of you for nearly a week!" He shot up from behind his desk, every inch the executive in his dark suit and crisp white shirt. "Sit down. I've got to talk to you. Something important has come up. Who's this?" He swung a challenging, assessing glance at the silent man who stood by Abby's side.

"The man who's claiming exclusive rights for the privilege of yelling at Abby," Torr said, with an unmistakable chill in his voice. "So I'd appreciate it if you would apologize to her and refrain from using that tone with her in the future. My name's Torr Latimer." He didn't extend his hand. Instead he made a point of politely seating Abby and then taking the leather chair next to hers.

Abby winced at the casual aggression in his words. Lately it was becoming very easy to visualize Torr in his previous role of corporate head. Ward stared at the stranger, a calculating respect in his eyes telling Abby more than words could have exactly how Torr was measuring up in the other man's estimation. One dark-brown brow arched as he inclined his head with mocking formality.

"My apologies, Abby. Where'd you meet the knight in shining armor?"

"At a class in flower arranging," Abby retorted. "Ward, something serious has happened. Torr insists you should be involved. I didn't want to come here today, but—"

"But I overrode her objections," Torr interrupted.

"I see." Ward sat down in his swivel chair and regarded the other two across the expanse of his desk. "Well, it would seem as though we've all got news. Suppose you go first."

Abby frowned. She knew Ward well enough to read the genuine concern in his hazel eyes. "It's not Cynthia or the baby, is it? Are they all right?"

Ward shook his head abruptly. "They're fine. My problem is a business one. What's yours?"

"Hers is business of a sort, also. Blackmail." Torr let the shock of his words sink in and then went on bluntly. "It concerns you too, that's why we're here."