No Chance in Hell (32 page)

Chris couldn’t shake the image of a young Charlie from her mind. A vision of a broken and rejected child would haunt her forever. A child who’d endured all sorts of atrocities and had grown up seeking revenge. She had no idea how long Marcus held her or how long she cried, but his stomach growling pulled her back to the present.

“You’re hungry,” she said into his neck. Closing her eyes, she inhaled, soaking in his scent and hoping to absorb some of his strength.

“I’ll eat later.”

“I hardly ever cry. My dad believed shedding tears didn’t create solutions.” She brushed away the lock of hair that had fallen onto his forehead and kissed him. “Thank you.”
 

“Anytime. Was this what had you so spooked in the car?”

“I was thinking how I hope no one else dies because of me.”

“Chris—”

“No. It’s true. I get that I’m not to blame. No way could I keep a promise to go back for Charlie. But somebody is responsible for what happened to him.”

“I’m not trying to sound callous, but you have to keep your perspective here. Do you have any idea how many kids go through bad foster homes? Or how many suffer abuse from adults? Thank God, they haven’t all snapped.”

“Of course you’re right. My Little Sisters are perfect examples. They will go on to lead productive lives, not because of me, because of something good inside them. But Charlie never had a chance.” She slid off Marcus’s lap and stood. “Enough. Let’s figure out something for your dinner.”

“Chris, I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

She scrubbed her hands over her face. “I know. And in my heart, I get it. My brother made his choices.”

“You need to eat, too. How about I order pizza?”

“I’ll do it.” She went after her cell and looked up the nearest place that delivered. “What do you want for toppings?”

“Anything you eat.”

Chris made the call, ordering pepperoni, Italian sausage, and bell peppers. “They’re running behind. The pizza should be here in forty-five minutes.”

“No problem. I’m going to take a shower.” Marcus stood and walked toward the bathroom.

He’d tried to console her, made an effort to reason with her, and she’d responded badly.

“Marcus?”

He turned and said nothing.

“Is there room for two?”

The corners of his mouth lifted as he walked closer. “You bet.”

 
All she could see was a sliver of his bare chest. Her hands itched to slide across the hard plane of skin, to stroke his shoulders and arms. Her mouth watered at the thought.

He walked into her until his entire body was flush with hers. He pushed her hair off her neck, kissed her behind the ear, catching her earlobe with his teeth. His hands covered her breasts, causing them to strain against the lace bra. Bolts of lightning couldn’t burn any hotter than his touch. Chill bumps raced down her arms, while at the same time, liquid fire rushed through her blood.

Marcus’s erection pressed into her, making it difficult for her to think of anything other than how wonderful he felt. “We don’t have a lot of time, but we should probably rinse off.”

They scattered their clothes one piece at a time, leaving a marked trail to the bathroom. Chris stepped onto the bath mat and held out her hand. Her gaze drifted across his body. Long firm legs, trim hips and thighs, but it was his chest that made her mouth water.

He held her grasp and pulled her into his arms. “You are so incredibly beautiful.”

Chris pulled her gaze from his chest up to meet his. Beautiful wasn’t a word she’d use to describe herself, but the way he looked at her made her feel like the most gorgeous woman on earth.
 

Lust had darkened his eyes to almost black. His mouth crashed down on hers, demanding entry. His tongue probed, warring with hers for position. He wrapped her hair around his hand and pulled her head back. Kissing his way down, he nipped her nipple then lavished attention on it with his tongue.
 

Chris’s body was on fire. Her skin burned everywhere he touched and ached for him everywhere he hadn’t. Need spun out of control.

“No shower,” she managed to say. “Bed.”

“Right.” He flashed a bright smile, reached in and turned off the water.

Chris wasn’t sure how she wound up on the bed amidst all the kissing and touching. All she knew was Marcus had a condom in his hand. Impatient to touch him, she reached over and removed the packet from him. “Let me.”

She took her time, wrapped her fingers around his erection, and marveled as the velvety steel hardened even more at her touch. Slowly, she rolled their protection down his length.

“You’re killing me,” he hissed, pulling her down on the mattress.
 

His hand slid between her legs, but she stopped him. “No waiting this time. No foreplay. I need to feel you inside me. Now.”

He wedged his hips between her thighs, and she opened her legs wider, offering him everything she had. He entered her, and she lifted her hips, taking him deeper. Chris was lost in the emotion boiling up from deep inside and the passion begging for release. For now, there was no killer. No mystery to solve. No end to her love for the man in her arms. She tried to memorize every inch of silky skin and every hard muscle underneath.
 

Marcus stopped and lay very still, watching her face. Then he began a slow and steady movement. Claiming what was already his.

****

Marcus, spent and sweating, knew he had to be crushing Chris. Knew he should at least roll off to her side. They might have just had the shortest lovemaking session on record, but his orgasm had to have registered on the Richter scale. Somewhere along the way, his heart had left his body. He was fairly sure it had taken up residence next to hers.

“Sorry,” he mumbled into her neck. “I’ll move.” He tried to push up on his forearms, but Chris locked her legs and arms around him.

“No. Don’t go. Stay where you are for a few more minutes.”

Shit. He distinctly heard tears in her voice. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt the woman he’d fallen in...really? Really. He loved her. When this was over, he’d figure out a way to convince her they should be together.

The knock on the motel room door made both of them jump. The pizza. Marcus tossed the condom in the trash and quickly slid on his jeans. He grabbed his gun from the nightstand. “Where’s your pistol?”

“In my purse on the coffee table. Do you think—?”

“You can never be too safe.” He went to the door, bent down, and then looked through the peephole. “No pizza. It’s the desk clerk.”

Chris had slipped on her jeans and was buttoning her blouse. He fished out her gun and handed it to her. The knock came again, only this time louder.

“Yeah?” he called out, without opening the door. “Anybody gets past me, you shoot the son of a bitch.” He pointed to the bed, waiting until she stood next to it out of the way.

“You got a message to call Nate,” the voice from the hallway said.

“Will do. Thanks.” Marcus watched through the peephole as the guy shook his head and walked away.

Chris handed Marcus his cell. He sat on the couch and patted the spot next to him. “You might as well hear the conversation.”

Nate answered on the first ring, “Answer your damn cell. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry, I was in the other room.”

“Dalton ran the driver of the black pickup through the system. Local thug with a handful of arrests. Nothing big enough to warrant a lengthy stay in Huntsville State Prison. DPD will dig deeper and get back to us.”

“We figured Chris’s brother had help.”

“I called Tomas. He’ll get involved. Make sure the communication stays open. I wasn’t worried, but I think he needs to stay involved.”

“Maybe this is the break we needed.”

“I hope so,” Nate said. “Just as a precaution, I’m headed your way. Give me a call in the morning when you’re ready to check out, and I’ll follow you to the office.”

“Bring Diablo. Let me know when you get here. I’ll come out after him.” Marcus ended the call.

A second knock on the door pulled Marcus to his feet. Once again, he checked the peephole. A man wearing a red-checked hat and shirt held a pizza box.
 

 
“Who’d you order the pizza from?”

“Pizza Pete’s.”

“That’s what his hat says. Let’s not get careless.” Marcus pulled a twenty from his wallet. “Take your pistol and stand out of sight.”

He cracked the door, leaving the safety chain in place. “How much?”

The aroma wafted off the pizza and into the room while the man pulled the ticket off the box and handed it to Marcus. “Sixteen forty-eight.”

Marcus passed him the twenty. “Set the pizza on the floor and keep the change.”

The guy looked at him as if he were crazy, but did as he was told. He stuffed the cash into his pocket and walked away.

“I’m starving,” Chris said.

Marcus opened the door and reached for the box. A pop followed by a flash of color and the back of his head felt as if it had caught fire. Shit. He’d been shot. He staggered, stumbled, trying to keep his feet under him. Chris screamed his name. Another gunshot rang out. Darkness engulfed him.

****

Chris couldn’t breathe. Something covered her entire head. She couldn’t move her arms or legs. Her brain screamed. She’d been tied to a chair.
 

 
She forced herself to stop trying to gulp large quantities of oxygen into her lungs. Small inhales and exhales through her nose proved more productive. She twisted her head, trying to dislodge the encumbrance. The movement sent nausea washing over her. Please, no. She couldn’t throw up.

Laser-like pain sliced through her at the memory of Marcus lying on the floor, the back of his head bleeding. The pizza man had stepped inside the room, aiming at Marcus’s forehead. She’d fired at him, but her bullet had only clipped his arm. How could she have forgotten to keep firing? In seconds, the man had been on her, wrenching the gun from her hand.

“You killed him,” she’d screamed.

“Shut up or you’re next,” an older man, dressed in a suit, said as he entered the room. Disdain had clouded his face as he looked her over from head to toe.
 

She’d run toward him, ready to pummel the life out of him, but he shoved her to the floor. An eerie calm had come over her. “Where’s my brother?”

“We’ll see how brave you are after he gets his hands on you.” He’d grabbed her hair and slapped a rag over her face. “If you weren’t so important to him, I’d enjoy killing you myself.”

That was the last thing she remembered. Where had they taken her?

Pain rose like a huge wave, pulling her into the undertow. She couldn’t move anything except her fingers and head. Bound tightly and still barefoot, she wiggled her toes against some kind of rug. Was she hearing crickets chirping? “Marcus,” she moaned. “Where are you?”

“I’m afraid there’s no one here by that name,” a voice said from close to her ear. “He’s dead, and you’re all alone with no one who cares for you. How does that feel? Scary? Frightening? Now imagine if you were a child.”

“Charlie, please.”

“Don’t call me Charlie,” he screamed.
 

The bag was jerked off her head, ripping out a chunk of her hair along with it. Chris bit back a cry, counting on her ability to stay calm. She blinked, trying to adjust to the overhead light. At the same time, she pulled deep breaths into her lungs. Her vision cleared, and she looked into blue eyes filled with hate.

“Hello, Sis.” He hissed the nickname. The venom in his tone chilled her to the bone.

“Why?” The moment she’d asked, the expression on his face made her regret the question.

He placed his foot on the chair and shoved. Helpless to stop the fall, she tumbled backward, landing on her back. Stars flashed behind her eyes as her head bounced on the wood floor.

“You don’t get to ask questions,” he said over his shoulder as he walked to a breakfast bar. He opened a black bag and began taking items out. “I’ve waited a long time for this. How does it feel to have nothing or no one to come to your rescue?”

Chris could only imagine what he was carefully lining up on the counter. She pushed her pain out of her thoughts and concentrated on controlling her rising panic. Marcus could not be dead. She refused to even consider that he wouldn’t come for her. What would he want her to do until he arrived? First, he’d want her to know her surroundings.

A quick scan revealed a high-end, fully furnished, open floor plan. Hardwood flooring, leather furniture, and the tall, beamed ceiling hadn’t come cheap. She spotted two exterior doors. If she could reach one, where would it lead? Did it matter? No. She’d run as hard as she could.
 

Over a large rock fireplace hung a knife display, carefully protected by glass. If she could get free, could she break the case and get her hands on the sharpest blade? Had he brought her to his hunting retreat?

The door opened, and the man who’d put the rag over her mouth walked inside. Dressed in a gray suit that shouted money, he glanced at Charlie and then down at her on the floor.