JAKrentz - Uneasy Alliance (8 page)

A
bby sat tense and withdrawn as Torr guided the BMW out of
Portland going east along the interstate that paralleled the mighty
Columbia River. For several miles the river formed the border between the states of
Washington
and
Oregon
, cutting a majestic swath through a spectacular gorge. The densely forested mountains rose skyward on Abby's right and the river surged toward the ocean on her left. It was a wonderfully scenic route and at any other time she would have been thoroughly enjoying herself. But today being on the floor of the gorge gave her a sensation of being trapped.

Or perhaps it was the knowledge that she was confined in a car with a man she barely knew, a man who was trying to take over her life, that gave her the trapped sensation.

Then again, maybe being a victim of blackmail always made you feel that way. Her fingers clenched into a knot in her lap.

"I'd tell you to stop worrying except that I don't think the advice would do much good," Torr mused as he glanced at her hands.

"You're right. I've never been in a situation like this in my life. I'm furious and I'm scared and I feel so awfully helpless. What if my idea doesn't work?"

"Oh, I think whoever it is will follow you. We left enough of a trail. Between meeting your neighbor in the hall and leaving a message with my answering service, it should be easy enough for anyone to figure out we're at my cabin near the
Columbia River gorge. We didn't exactly make a secret of our exit."

Abby chewed on her lower lip, remembering the conversational way Torr had told her neighbor they were off on a trip. Mrs. Hammond's alert gaze had flashed to Abby and then back to the solid dark-haired man who stood by her side holding a suitcase.

"Excellent idea, if you ask me," Mrs. Hammond had volunteered. "I'm nearly eighty years old and I can tell you right now that if I had the first thirty years to do over again, I'd make a few interesting memories for myself. Have a good time, Abby dear. He looks like he can take care of you." The tiny woman beamed up at Torr. "Don't let her scare you off, young man. She's really much softer than she makes out at times."

"I'll keep that in mind," Torr had murmured obligingly.

"Lovely day for a drive," Mrs. Hammond had said, beaming.

"We thought we'd head for my place overlooking the
Columbia."

"Up near the gorge? Wonderful country!" Mrs. Hammond had enthused. "Whereabouts?"

Torr had smoothly given the name of a small community and smiled blandly at Abby. "Ready to go?"

"Yes." Impulsively Abby had turned toward the older woman. "Mrs. Hammond, I wonder if you…"

"Don't worry about your plants, dear. Between Bonny Wilkins and myself we'll see to them. Run along now."

And Abby had allowed herself to be escorted into the elevator and out to the waiting BMW. There had followed a quick stop to Torr's house, a stark modern structure that she'd had no time at all to investigate. Torr had packed a bag with his usual efficiency and they had been on their way before Abby had seen anything other than the coldly contemporary black-and-tan decor of the living room.

"Abby," Torr said, interrupting her thoughts. "The real problem isn't whether or not the blackmailer follows you and shows himself. The problem is dealing with him when he does."

"I know," she answered, sighing.

"What did you plan to do then?" Torr pressed gently.

"I don't know! Torr, I can't even imagine what the person could want from me. I mean, I'm reasonably successful but I'm certainly not rich. There is no way I could give the blackmailer huge amounts of money."

"If he or she is a small-time sort of blackmailer, the demands will probably be correspondingly small," Torr asserted, shrugging.

"You don't seem overly concerned about them," she accused.

"The size of the demands? I'm not. You're not going to pay off, so it really doesn't matter how big they are."

"I may have to pay him off until I find a way to stop him."

"No."

"Torr, I have to be logical about this. Paying the guy off for a while will give me time."

"Whatever happens, you won't pay him. I can't let you." Torr's gaze was fixed on the highway, his profile set in stone.

Abby drew a deep breath. "You will have nothing to say about it. If I decide that the best way to handle the situation is to make a payoff, I will do it. My cousin's happiness is at stake here and I will do whatever has to be done to protect her. I'm not interested in any of your macho stands against blackmailers."

"Honey, you can't pay him off," Torr explained gently. "Once he has his hooks in you it will only get worse. The reason I'm going along with you at this point is because I think it's logical to try and draw whoever it is out into the open. Knowing your enemy is always a rational policy. After that we act."

"We'll see," Abby declared mutinously, not liking the way he was assuming control of the situation. "Have you had a lot of experience with blackmailers?" she added tauntingly.

"I've had experience with vicious people. Same difference."

Abby's head snapped around to stare at him. "What vicious people?"

"It's a long story and I really don't feel like going into it at the moment."

"Well, I've had some experience with domineering men," Abby retorted, "and I've learned a few things in the process, too."

The faint shadow of a smile flickered at the edge of his mouth. "No, you didn't. If you had, you'd have treated me the way I intend to treat the blackmailer. You wouldn't have given an inch. But you've already made the first mistake in dealing with me. You've given more than an inch. So you're stuck with me."

"That's not very funny, Torr."

"Sorry. You're not the first to complain about my poor sense of humor. We serious types lead a difficult life." The faint smile disappeared altogether. "Someday I'm going to want to know all about him. You do realize that."

Abby tensed, knowing there was no sense pretending she didn't know he was referring to the man in her past who had made her so wary. "It's not something I discuss frequently."

"We won't discuss it frequently. Just once. Completely."

Abby sent him an angry glance. "The only thing I'm going to say about that mess is that I learned a lot from it."

"Such as?"

"Such as the fact that real dominance, real possessiveness is neither romantic nor thrilling. I also learned that jealousy is a sickness, not a sign of passion."

"Go on," he encouraged softly.

Realizing that she had already said far more than she intended, Abby took a grip on herself. She would not let her impulsiveness push her into confiding everything to a man she didn't yet know well. No one, not even Cynthia, knew the full story of Flynn Randolph. "It's over. I try not to think about it and I make it a point never to discuss it."

"Has he ever tried to get in touch with you since you ended the relationship?"

"No, thank heavens!"

"Where does he live?"

"Seattle." She frowned. "Torr, I've said I don't want to talk about this. I think we should be concentrating on the real problem at hand."

"The blackmailer? Not much we can do until he or she decides to pursue you. In a rural area like the one I'm taking you to today, it will be difficult for a stranger to remain totally hidden for long. To get to you he'll be forced to ask some questions, make some waves. Sooner or later we'll have him."

Abby heard the finality in his last words and stared at her companion. "You talk as if we'll be able to do something permanent about him."

"I'll think of something."

Abby stirred uneasily, wondering exactly what she had gotten into by allowing herself to be swept out of town like this. As the miles rolled past she finally settled down and began to think about what she'd done. Her present position was highly uncertain, to say the least, but on the other hand, there was something distinctly comforting in the knowledge that she was no longer facing the problem alone.

There was a strength in Torr Latimer that reassured rather than terrified a woman. Abby wasn't certain why she seemed to find that true but she acknowledged it was a fact. Torr was capable of blunt intimidation—she'd already witnessed that—but somehow it hadn't left her feeling frightened or anxious.

A woman had to be so careful, she reminded herself for the hundredth time. She must not let herself be confused by passion and desire. And there was an element of both in Torr Latimer's eyes. He wanted her. He'd made no secret about it. How much of his present protectiveness was merely a convenient device to seduce her, she wondered.

"What are you thinking?" Torr interrupted calmly.

"That I'm getting paranoid."

"I'd say you've got grounds. People who are being blackmailed have a right to a degree of paranoia."

She flicked him a speculative glance. "I wasn't worrying about that. I know I've got a right to be paranoid on that subject."

"You're getting paranoid about me?" he hazarded gently.

"A little."

He thought about that for a moment and then nodded. "You may have grounds for that, too."

"Must you say things like that?" she stormed. "Can't you see I'm nervous enough as it is? I can do without your weird brand of teasing."

"What makes you think I'm teasing?" He looked genuinely surprised at her conclusion.

"Thanks a lot! Go ahead—make me more nervous, anxious and upset than I already am. I don't know what ever possessed me to run off with you like this. I must have been out of my mind to agree to let you take me away. I should have gone ahead with my original plan."

"And wind up facing the whole thing alone?"

"It might have been better than spending every minute wondering whether or not you're going to pounce on me."

"Is that really what you're worrying about? Or are you afraid you might not try to dodge when I do decide to, er, pounce?"

"You're finding this whole thing quite amusing, aren't you?" Abby accused furiously.

"No. Not amusing. Intriguing, perhaps. A little risky, maybe, but not amusing," he responded quite soberly.

"Risky! For me or for you?"

"For both of us."

"I never asked you to take any risks on my behalf," she reminded him righteously.

"I wasn't referring to the risks involved in confronting the blackmailer. I was thinking about the chances you and I are taking with each other." His low graveled voice was almost bland in tone, as if he were discussing a purely academic matter, one of intellectual interest only.

Abby eyed him cautiously. "What chances are you taking?"

"The chance that I won't be able to let you go after I've made you mine," he admitted simply. "The chance that I'm going to be caught up in your crazy, undisciplined, off-the-wall way of doing things. I'm not used to dealing with a woman like you, Abby Lyndon. I'm feeling a bit like one of the flowers in your arrangements."

"Of all the ridiculous notions!" she breathed, unable to deny that a part of her was suddenly, deeply fascinated. "How do you imagine my flowers must feel?" she blurted before she could stop the question.

"A little confused, disoriented, but rather intrigued. Part of a chaotic situation that can't be fully understood, but which might be quite interesting."

"You're laughing at me," she groaned.

"No, I'm trying to reassure you."

"Are you, Torr? I don't think you're doing a very good job. I think I'm getting more paranoid by the minute."

"Are you really afraid of me, Abby?" he demanded softly.

She looked at the steady grip of his large hands on the wheel of the car and thought of how efficiently and smoothly he drove. Then she thought back to the disciplined, orderly arrangements of his flowers. And then she considered the effect he had on her physically. "I'll let you know when I finally make up my mind," she informed him tartly.

He smiled at that but said nothing.

The house on the cliff overlooked the wide river and an expanse of the surrounding scenery that was quite breathtaking. Somehow the location and the view didn't surprise Abby. She glanced around at the forested grounds before trailing behind Torr to the front door of the cedar cabin.

"You seem to like being up high and having a view," she remarked, vaguely aware that she was hesitant about following him into the house. It was as if every step she took, every move she made today, was bringing her closer to Torr's side. The feeling that things were happening much too fast and that the consequences might be irrevocable assailed her. Abby fought the uncomfortable sensation by taking her time surveying the scenery. She was unaware of the hint of defiance in her expression or of the unconsciously aggressive stance she had assumed.

Torr paused halfway to the front door, a suitcase in each hand, and looked at her. With her feet braced slightly apart, her hands on her hips and that determined expression in her eyes, she reminded him of a bright, brave, slightly arrogant poppy flower. But night was coming and poppies needed safe, secure places to fold their petals when the warmth of the sun was gone.