The Heart Has Reasons (13 page)

* * * * *

Larissa’s chest heaved as she and her
kidnapper circled each other on the threadbare expanse of carpet.  She
wanted to hurt the bastard — to
kill
him.  Unused to such
osculatory talent, she
had
enjoyed the kiss, and it infuriated her that
he knew it.  He exuded such a masculine vitality that she simply couldn’t
help but respond to him.

Even
so, the bastard had drugged and kidnapped her.  It had to be biological —
simply an overload of hormones brought on by stress.  It didn’t help that
his tee shirt did nothing to hide the definition of his chest and shoulders, or
that he moved with the surefooted grace of a natural athlete.

As
a fresh splash of guilt scalded her, she struck out again.  Again, he blocked
it.  No matter how hard she tried to hurt him, he was so fast and so good
at blocking everything she threw at him that she didn’t have a chance. 
She definitely couldn’t outmuscle him, so the only way she’d ever be able to
hurt him would be to catch him unaware again.

She
took a step back and dropped her guard.  “This is ridiculous.  I
quit.”  As she started to turn away, her ears detected the faint sound of
voices approaching the room.  This was her chance.  When he lowered
his own guard and turned toward where his .45 still lay on the carpet, she spun
and drove a heel into his side.

Grunting
from the impact, he staggered back several feet before recovering. 
Sucking in a deep breath to scream, she feinted to the right and struck out
with the blade of her hand, aiming for his throat.

He
must have heard the voices as well for, as he parried the blow, in one smooth
continued movement he grabbed her wrist, spun her around, and yanked her toward
him.  When her back slammed into his chest, it was like slamming into a
wall.  He immediately clapped a hand over her mouth.

Damn
him!

A
man and woman passed just outside their door, laughing.  Squirming against
him, she raised her foot to stomp his instep.  He responded by yanking her
off her feet.  Hand still clamped over her mouth, he started across the
room.  She tangled her legs in his, trying to trip him, but by stepping
carefully stiff-legged, he made it to the bed without incident.  Still
clutching her tightly to his chest, he fell forward onto the bedspread, landing
on top of her.  The hard ridges of his chest and stomach pressed against
her back as his weight held her immobile beneath him.

On
the other side of the door, the conversation grew fainter until the thumping of
two car doors abruptly cut it off.  A second later, there was the whining
complaint of a vehicle trying to start, and then an engine roared to life.

When
she abruptly stopped struggling, he shifted his weight to insinuate first one
and then the other leg between hers.  Her heart thundered wildly as his
erection settled into the cleft of her buttocks.

Taut
with sexual awareness, she lay unmoving as her pulse throbbed in the intimate
parts of her body.  He was breathing heavily, and not, she suspected, from
their exertions.  His breath ruffled the hair on the back of her neck as
he asked, “If I take my hand away, are you going to scream?”

Her
answer was a muffled, “Uh-uh.”  He removed his hand, but stayed atop
her.  When he deliberately rubbed his erection against her, she felt as
though she would faint.  She finally managed a breathless whisper.  “
Please
get off me.”

For
the space of a half-dozen heartbeats, there was no response.  Then he
sighed heavily.  “Since you asked so politely.”  When he rolled off
her, she rolled in the opposite direction.  They lay on their sides facing
each other, both breathing heavily.  Electricity seemed to arc back and
forth across the narrow space separating them.

When
the blue eyes behind the mask dropped to her mouth, fear and anticipation
zinged from nipples to crotch.  As she braced herself for another kiss, he
asked, “Are you in the mood for pizza?”

His
non sequitur caught her so off guard she could not have been more surprised if
he’d begun speaking in tongues.  “
What?
”

“It’s
a simple question.”  As if conversing with someone mentally disabled, he
slowly enunciated, “Are you in the mood for pizza?”

“Pizza
would be great,” she replied cautiously.

“What
would you like on it?”

“Mushrooms,
green peppers, black olives.  And onions.”

He
elevated one brow.  “Onions?”

“As
insurance against any further punitive kisses.”

“Considering
that I’ll be eating onions as well, you’ll find it inadequate
protection.”  He hesitated a moment.  “I’ll have to leave you bound
and gagged while I’m gone.”

Gone
?  He wasn’t having the pizza
delivered?  She’d be here
alone and unguarded
?  To cover her
burgeoning hope, she sputtered, “You can’t leave me here tied up.  What if
the building catches fire?”

“The
pizzeria’s just across the highway.  I’d see the smoke from there and,
being the valiant gentleman that I am, would come running to your rescue.”

She
snorted at his assertion of gentlemanliness.  If the pizzeria were just
across the highway, it wouldn’t give her much time.  Maybe she could
somehow work the gag free, and someone would walk past the door again.  “I
don’t suppose you’d be willing to simply tie me up, and forego the gag.”

He
lightly caressed her jaw with one finger.  “No, I don’t suppose I would.”

She
let out her breath in an irritated sigh.  “I guess it’s a small enough
price to pay for pizza.”

* * * * *

Chase called in their order, then secured
Larissa to the bed, all the while uncomfortably aware of the heaviness in his
loins.  She stared at him with hard reproach as he fastened the gag into
place.

As
soon as the door closed behind him, he pulled out a disposable cell phone
identical to the one that he’d provided Hank Keswick with, and dialed the
number.

After
a single ring, Keswick answered with an eager, “Hello?”

“The
acquisition went off without a hitch, and we’re presently in Arkansas. 
Have you ever heard of someone named Brian Sparrow?”

There
was a long silence on the other end of the line.  “Who’s that?”

“I
thought maybe you could tell me.  That’s who your wife thinks I’m taking
her to.”

“Brian
Sparrow,” Keswick repeated thoughtfully.  “The name don’t ring no
bells.  Who’s he s’posed to be?”

Chase
stood on the edge of the four-lane highway as traffic roared past.  “An
intruder who broke into her apartment two years ago.  She claims he
survived her shooting him.”

“Yeah,
I remember that.  Only, it didn’t happen to Larissa, it happened to a
friend o’ hers.  Right after that’s when she starting sleepin’ with a gun
under her pillow, which I can assure you did
not
improve the quality of
my
sleep.  I don’t recall the guy’s name, but it coulda been Sparrow. 
After her friend shot the guy, he broke into some doctor’s house, forced the
doc to patch him up, then killed him.

The
lying
bitch
.  “This happened in Charleston?”

“Los
Angeles.”

At
a break in traffic, Chase jogged across the highway.  There were a
half-dozen vehicles in the parking lot, mostly pickup trucks, some of which
sported gun racks and confederate flag decals.  As he crunched across the
gravel, he asked, “Did the guy get away?”

“Nuh-uh,
they caught ‘im.  He’s doin’ time for the doc’s murder.”

A
flicker of anger stirred in him.  Not only had the bitch lied, she’d had
the temerity to act affronted by
his
lie.  A sudden burst of
country music and loud chatter drew his eyes to the door as a man exited
carrying a boxed pizza.

As
if he’d read his mind, Keswick said, “I warned you that Larissa was a
world-class liar.  But you’re not the first man to fall for her shit, so
don’t feel too bad about it.”

Chase
paused and turned to gaze back across the highway at the motel. 
World-class was right.  She came across as strong, but sweet and
sincere.  Of course, she’d also proven to be quite cunning and extremely
determined.

Had
she been faking her response to their kiss?

No,
he decided, she hadn’t.  There was no way she could have faked those
nipples.

A
sudden pang of guilt stabbed him as he realized he’d kissed Keswick’s
wife
. 
He distracted himself by wondering why Keswick would want her back, knowing the
kind of woman she was.  Ah, well, when it came to women, men were often
stupid like that. 
Other
men, he quickly amended.  Not
him
. 
“You haven’t made any calls on this phone, have you?”

“Course
not.  I remember what you said.”

“Unless
something unforeseen happens, you won’t hear from me again until we reach
California.”  He hit END, flipped the phone shut, shoved it in his pocket,
and pushed through the door.

Inside,
the heady aroma of wood-fired pizza dough, oregano, pepperoni, and tomato sauce
permeated the air, bringing back memories of his childhood in Pittsburg. 
The crowd’s loud meaningless din lagged as all heads turned to follow his
progress across the room.  He stopped at the cash register and a
middle-aged Italian woman hurried to him, wiping her hands on her apron as
conversations gradually resumed.  “May I help you?”

“I
phoned in an order.  The name’s Brown.”

He
paid, casually scanning the room.  Two attractive, thirty-something women
in tight jeans and cowboy boots were exchanging animated words a few booths
away.  As his eye passed over them, there was a sudden stirring of
feminine interest.  Seductive smiles blazed while hands fluffed hair and
tugged at necklines.

When
they both started to slide out of the booth, he yanked the cell phone out of
his pocket and pretended to make a call.  Normally, he would have welcomed
an opportunity to engage in a threesome.  Unfortunately, now was not the
most opportune time to be presented with questions about who he was, where he
was from, and where he was headed.  From the corner of his eye, he watched
the two women ease back into their booth.

Not
only had Larissa lied to him, he’d been ready to believe her.  He shrugged
the feeling of betrayal off.  What difference did it make if she
lied?  She wasn’t his girlfriend.  She was his
job
.  In
addition, her husband was his client.  His
well-paying
client.  His job was to deliver her to that client.  If she lied to
him in an attempt to prevent that from happening, what of it?

Anger
implied he was becoming emotionally involved, which he absolutely was
not.  Yes, he was attracted to her.  How could he not be?  He
was a man.  She was a beautiful woman.  She could lie all she
wanted.  It was nothing to him.

“Brown,”
the woman behind the counter called.  He shoved the phone back into his
pocket and grabbed his pizza.

When
he passed the two women on his way to the door, one of them reached out a
long-taloned hand to stop him, bracelets jangling.  With an inviting
smile, she said, “We don’t mean to be forward, but would you like to join us?”

He
paused just long enough to say, “Thank you, ladies, but my wife’s waiting for
me.”

As
he continued toward the door, he heard one say to the other, “Told you he was
too hot to be single.”

* * * * *

The moment the door closed behind her
kidnapper, Larissa began struggling to slip out of the handcuffs.  If she
could get one hand free, she could remove the gag and scream.  He’d
tightened the cuffs until there was little room to spare, but the left one
seemed maybe a tiny bit looser, so she concentrated on that one.  After last
night’s escape attempt, he seemed to be taking extra care to make sure it
didn’t happen again.  She struggled to compress the bones in her hand,
wincing at the pain.  If it weren’t for the damned gag, she might’ve been
able to spit far enough to provide some lubrication.

She
could tell he liked her.  To be honest, under different circumstances, she
might have liked him in return.  In fact, there were moments when she
almost did.

Like
when he’d kissed her.

Why
the hell had she kissed him back?  She wasn’t attracted to him or
anything, so it had to be that he’d simply caught her off guard.  She
grimaced as the cuff scraped her skin and dug into the fine bones in her
hand.  She needed to make him like her even more.  If he cared about
her, he wouldn’t deliver her to someone who intended to do her harm.

She’d
have to proceed cautiously, though.  If she came on too strong, he’d
suspect something.  Worse, he might think her a slut.  While the air
conditioner droned, she realized the solitary bed was yet another cause for
concern.  Last night, he’d shown considerable self-restraint but — if that
damned kiss was any indication — he was probably going to pressure her to have
sex with him eventually.

Not
that it would be an entirely unpleasant task.  From the neck down, at
least, he was an attractive man, although the idea of sleeping with someone
who’d drugged and kidnapped her was disturbing beyond measure.  However,
it would be a small enough price to pay if it saved her life.