Texas Kissing (33 page)

“No,” she said. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay now. Can I come over?”

My heart lifted. I let out a long breath. “Yes! Hell, yes!”

“Okay,” Then she paused and I heard the puzzlement in her voice. “Wait—there’s someone here. A car’s pulling up.”

I’d almost forgotten about him. “Relax,” I told her. “It’s your cousin. Antonio, from New York.”

There was utter silence. Then an ear-splitting crash. I realized she’d dropped the phone.

Oh Jesus Christ—what have I done?
 “
Lily?!”

Running footsteps. I could hear her panting in fear and my stomach twisted.

The sound of breaking glass. And then the line went dead.

Bull

My pick up isn’t the fastest thing, but I know every back road and shortcut in town. I floored the gas the whole way, screeching around bends and nearly rolling the damn thing over twice.

When I skidded to a stop outside the bus, there was no sign of Antonio’s sedan. Lily’s Toyota was still there.

The door of the bus was open.
Fuck.

I crept inside, fists ready. “Lily?”

The lights were on, but there was no sign of anyone. A cupboard had been torn off the wall and jagged chunks of plates and mugs covered the floor. A drawer was open, half of its contents scattered around. The whole place was eerily still.

Then I saw the blood. A whole spray of little red drops low down on the refrigerator door.
He’d got her down on the floor and….
In my mind, I saw his fist connect with her face and I wanted to throw up.

And then I saw the pool on the floor. Watery, but too yellow to be water.

She’d peed herself. The bastard had scared her or hurt her so badly she’d peed herself.

I’d been angry plenty of times in my life. But the rage that took hold at that moment wasn’t like anything I’d ever felt. All of the shit I’d gotten worked up about before just seemed so unimportant, now.

I tried dialing her phone but got the same unavailable signal I’d gotten the whole way over there. And then I saw the bits of broken plastic and circuitry on the floor. Someone had stamped it underfoot.

I stormed out of the bus and into my pick up...and then realized I had no idea where to go. They could be anywhere.

I sent him to her. I sent him right fucking to her.

Panic clawed at my mind. Should I go to the police? That would take hours of explanation. I didn’t even know who the hell Antonio was or what he wanted.

There was only one person who might be able to help.

Bull

At the Stallion Inn, I marched right up to the desk and told the clerk to give me Agent Calahan’s room number. He gave me a whole load of horseshit about privacy laws, so I picked him up by the shirt and pressed his back against the ceiling. He got a lot more cooperative after that.

I didn’t mean to bust the lock on Calahan’s door. I just twisted the handle and pushed and the damn thing broke in my hand. Shitty cheap motel locks.

Calahan was sitting on the bed, stripped to the waist. Damn city boy wasn’t as big as me, but he was
ripped.
He looked like a damn underwear model. He dived for his holster when the door broke and, an instant later, I was staring down the barrel of a handgun.

Then he saw it was me and lowered the gun. I was a little offended.

“I’m not trying to take your girlfriend,” Calahan growled. “Cute as she is. So if this is some jealous rage thing you can kiss—”

I stepped into the room. “Some guy took her. Antonio. Said he was her cousin, but—”

“
Took
her?!”

“He went over to her place and they had a fight and—there’s blood. And she’s gone. And so’s his car.”

“
Fuck!
I fucking knew it. I knew they’d find her.” He grabbed his cell phone and started dialing.

“Who? Who is he?”

He gave me a disbelieving look. I shook my head firmly, my anger building.
Yeah, I’m really that dumb,
I thought.
Just tell me.

His call connected so I had to wait again.
Agent
Samuel Calahan, FBI,
he said, and then he spat out instructions to the local police in rapid-fire jargon. Then he did the same thing with the state police and the FBI. I gave him the best description of the car that I could.

When he finally put the phone down, I said, “
So?
Who is this guy? Who’s got Lily?”

He looked at me tiredly. “Jesus. She really didn’t tell you?”

The frustration was scalding hot inside me, now. I advanced on him. “
No!
So for the love of God will you
please
give me a straight fucking answer?”

Calahan gave a long sigh. “Your girlfriend’s real name is Tessa. And she’s the niece of Erico Fiorentini, a mob boss in New York. She ran away two years ago. That guy’s taking her back to him.”

My head spun as if I’d downed a whole bottle of whisky.
Tessa?
This
is what she’d been hiding? “You’re not here to arrest her?” I asked.

“
Arrest
her? I was here to try to get her to testify against her uncle.” Calahan frowned. “What the hell would I be arresting her for?”

Shit.
He had no idea about the passports. “Doesn’t matter,” I said. I grabbed his wrist and hauled him off the bed. “Come on. We gotta go.”

“Go
where?
I want to find her as much as you do, but—”

“There’s only one damn road to the highway. You got one of those red flashing lights on your car?”

***

We’d almost given up hope when we got a call from the state police. A motorcycle cop had pulled over a car matching my description just a few miles ahead. Calahan told him to wait.

When we pulled up behind them at the side of the road, I was out almost before the car had stopped moving. The rage was swelling inside me now like a slow-motion explosion, filling every muscle and making it hard and ready. As I strode towards the car, I was panting with it, snorting like a—

“Bull—” said Calahan behind me.

I ignored him.

Antonio was alone in the car. Wrenching open the driver’s door, I hauled him out. He was a big guy but I was bigger and plenty angrier. I lifted him off his feet and slammed him down on the car’s roof.

Calahan and the motorcycle cop grabbed me from behind, one on each shoulder. I shook them off like flies, got a fresh grip on the guy, and slammed him down on the roof again, so hard his teeth rattled.

“BULL!” yelled Calahan.

“Fuck off,” I growled. The anger was throbbing through my veins, red hot and insidious. Anger at him for what he’d done to her. Anger at her for lying to me. Anger at myself for sending him over to her place.
This is all my fault.

I lifted the guy off the roof and drew back my fist.

There was a metallic click. When I glanced around, Calahan was pointing his gun at me. This time, he looked serious. “
Back off,”
he told me.

I backed off about an inch. “Where is she?” I growled at Antonio. “The trunk?” I glanced at Calahan. “Check the trunk.”

Calahan lowered the gun a little and tried the trunk. “It’s locked.”

“
Open the damn trunk!”
I roared in the guy’s face. I threw him towards the rear of the car.

He sprawled on the ground, rolled and staggered to his feet. “I want a lawyer,” he panted.

I growled.

“You don’t open that trunk in the next few seconds,” Calahan told him, “that guy’s going to tear you apart. And I’m not inclined to stop him.”

I started to warm to Calahan a little.

Hands shaking, Antonio unlocked the trunk. Calahan shone a flashlight into the depths. My stomach knotted as I remembered the blood and piss at the bus. Was she tied up? Alive?
Dead?

I stepped forward to look.

The trunk was empty.

Lily

One hour earlier

I had a plan, of course. All neatly worked out and scientific. But when I saw Antonio walking towards the glass door of the bus, it fluttered right out of my brain. Suddenly, I was back in New York, watching him help to kill Annette.

I heard the phone hit the floor and realized it had slipped out of my numb fingers. Antonio was almost at the door, now, but I still couldn’t move.

“
Lily?”

Bull’s voice saved me. I came back to life and slammed my hand against the
close
button just as Antonio hit the
open
button outside. The pneumatics hissed angrily as the door fought itself...but it stayed closed. I thumbed the switch to lock it.

Antonio glared at me through the glass.

I ran for the driver’s seat. Plan A—get the whole bus the hell out of there. I went to fire up the engine—

And stopped. Antonio had parked his sedan right in front of the bus. By accident or design, he’d blocked me in. There was a tree behind me, so I couldn’t back up.
Shit!

Plan B—escaping in my Toyota—was out, too. Even if I could make it out through an emergency exit, there was no way I could get to my car before Antonio caught me.

That left plan C: fight.

I heard the glass door crunch and then start to shatter. Antonio was using a tire iron on it. All he had to do was make a big enough hole to get his hand through and flip the lock….

I sprinted to my bed, stuck my hand under it, and pulled my gun from its holster.

I heard the door opening and then the crunch of breaking plastic. Antonio must have stepped on my phone.

I checked my gun was loaded.

Time seemed to slow down as I heard him climb the steps up from the door to the aisle. He took his time. Why the hell wouldn’t he? He thought he knew me. He thought I was the same scared kid he’d known in New York, the one he’d ferried to swimming practice and to her high school prom.