We're One (6 page)

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Authors: Mimi Barbour

BOOK: We're One
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“Don’t yell at me.”

“I’m not yelling!” The banging on the inside wall along with the distinct word, “Shaddup!” proved him wrong.

“Sorry!” Sullen and childish, but cute as a choirboy, he made her grin. When he noticed, he had the grace to redden. “I had plans for us, and they sure as hell didn’t include this kind of surroundings. You don’t belong here. I don’t belong here. The guy at the desk thinks you’re a working girl and I’m your john. I don’t like it one bit.”

He went to place his jacket over the chair back, but he stopped abruptly. Instead he threw it on the floor, kicked off his shoes and they flew, one landing by the window and the other on the coffee table. He brushed his hands together, and looked back at her with a pleased smirk on his face.

She groaned, looked upwards, and shook her head slowly back and forth until she noticed his enquiring expression.

She tiptoed over to where he sat morosely on the side of the twin bed, his hands flat on the washed-out mauve satin spread that almost matched the shoddy purple shag rug. “I realize you don’t like it, but I feel safe here.” The small room appeared dismal, reflected in the floor-length, tarnished mirror on the opposite wall from where they sat. But they were safe—away from the Strip and in a place where Arnie would never think to look.

She rubbed her hand up and down his back. Leaning close, breast brushing his arm, she pacified him as best she could. Thoughts of getting those lips of his plastered to hers again bombarded her. She had no talents as a seductress, just the honest needs of a frustrated virgin, plus the reminiscences of the incredible tingling he’d initiated earlier.

To think she had taken special care with her outfit. An angora sweater of the softest rose hue fitted her like a second skin, and her swirling grey maxi skirt snugged her body, showing off the curves most men craved to get their hands on. What the heck was wrong with this man?

He sprang up, and she toppled over, sprawling against the mattress. She groaned, and the satin spread creased in her clutching hands.

His gritty voice sounded choked, and his caustic tone deflated her hopes. “You’d better get some sleep. I’ll stay up and watch to make sure no one sneaks up on us. I’ve decided that tomorrow we drop the pets off at Rhett’s house for his housekeeper to look after. Then we catch the first flight to where he and Carrie are visiting her grandparents. It’s as good a place to hide as any.”

“Where does her family live?”

“A small place in England, called Bury. You’ll love it. There’s an old vicarage there I must show you.”

She interrupted him. “Will your brother be able to help us stop Arnie?”

“He’ll try, but I don’t know as how anyone can stop the freak. Until he does something against the law, and he hasn’t so far, he’ll be free to tail us all he wants. That’s why it’s vitally important to get you out of this neighbourhood. Someplace where we can keep you safe—where he’ll never find you. I want you to stay close to me.”

If you’d cooperate, I’d be pretty damn close right now.
To clear her mind of those kinds of cravings, she asked, “Is there a safe place in Bury to hole up for a short time?”

“Trust me, I remember the perfect place. Now go to sleep. You’ll need your beauty rest.”

Seeing his pouty face harden into a scowl, she sensed inflexibility. He wouldn’t budge, and she couldn’t beg. The idiot was going to waste a perfectly good night wanting a special setting, whereas all she wanted was his body, and those skillful lips teaching hers.

And to keep him safe, a priority she accepted without question. She sighed deeply. Grabbing a blanket to wrap around herself, she lay on top of the quilt and closed her eyes. Her pets were all bedded down for the night, tolerating their new lodgings calmly. As long as she stayed in sight, they stayed unruffled.

Her breathing evened out after a few minutes, and she slept, her bat horizontal on the floor beside her.

How he had kept his hands off her, he’d never know. She was the most intriguing mix of “keep your distance” intermingled with “show me” he’d ever run across. He didn’t trust her signals, put them down to fear for her safety, plain and simple, but he could’ve sworn she’d wanted him tonight.

Her blatant need to keep him in sight at all times didn’t fool him into believing she’d developed a sudden crush on him. Rather, it told him she was terrified to be left alone, poor darling. As much as his hands ached to caress her curvy little body, his mind accepted he was all that stood between her and the sick jerk who wanted to kill her. He needed to keep his wits about him and his mitts off her.

The morning couldn’t come soon enough for him. Watching her sleep and not crawling into the bed next to her scored him an ace on his scale of tolerance. The pile of cigarette butts in the ashtray by the end table attested to his stress. Circling smoke wafted around his head as he guarded, while his mind was tortured by images of their bodies entwined.

Blonde strands of silky hair, some nestling around her face while others spread in disarray, shimmered with golden highlights from the feeble light of the small bedside lamp. It illuminated her tempting form. Both birds, free to roam, huddled puffed up on the adjacent pillow, as if protectors of a sleeping beauty. Perfume, the provocative scent he’d noticed before when she’d been near, drifted towards him. The distracting smell reminded him of roses, which brought to mind the unique bush in England where an abundance of multicoloured roses spilled over a quaint old bench.

Her small ringless hand reached towards the edge of the bed as if in readiness, beckoning. She slept, no sounds, no movement, as still as a picture—uncanny. He knew he himself was a roamer in bed, a wiggle-puss, a cover hog, never still. A thought entered his mind, and brought a smile with it. Their mating should prove interesting.

Thinking about that possibility became physically uncomfortable, noticeably in his lower anatomy. He stood up and paced the room like a caged tiger, stopping every few minutes to move the grimy curtain aside so he could survey the parking lot. There were only two other cars parked there—not surprising—and they hadn’t moved all night.

The first warming golden rays announced the coming of the sun as it rose over the desert hills in the distance. Soon highway sounds of long-haul trucks and traffic all heading somewhere could be heard. Time to move.

She came awake with a start. Her gaze located him and softened.

She was so lovely.

He was in big trouble!

Keeping his hands to himself when she’d stirred in her sleep had him sweating. Now with her awake, and moving her adorable, sexy body in tandem with his roving eye—or was it the other way around?—could prove to be his undoing.

No time!

Concentrate!

Big ugly sucker with murder on his mind!

Right. Got it.

Showers, breakfast and packing, then feeding the critters—it all took very little time with Ashley spurring them on like a drill sergeant. They gathered up the mess and headed for Rhett’s new house, where the housekeeper’s unfriendly glare impaled Ashley as he approached her. He could never see what Carrie liked about the woman, but they’d become close friends. Far be it for him to complain. Thank heavens he didn’t have to live with her.

Nonetheless, it took all his skills to persuade her to look after five cats, a turtle and two birds. Especially when the animals obviously didn’t want to stay behind without Crystal. The distinct yowling of “help

from a perturbed Daisy followed them as they hurried to the car.

“My God, that cat yowled ‘help.’” Ash quickly reversed out of the driveway, wanting to put space between them and the house, in case the old harridan decided to shut the roadside gates.

“I told you. But you didn’t believe me, did you?”

“Who would believe the bloody cat could make such a racket? I hope the old battleaxe takes care of them. She didn’t look too pleased.”

“Oh, she’ll be just fine. She’s not a battleaxe; she’s a dear. She has a heart of gold.”

“She does? I’ve certainly never seen it.”

“‘Cause you’re a man. She doesn’t like men.”

“You could tell that from the short time we spent with her?”

“Sure! I recognized the symptoms from inside myself. I’ve never liked men much, either.”

Chapter Seven

 

“Arnie, what’re you up to, coming in to work this late? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all evening.” Joey hid his anxiety behind a false friendliness. Losing sight of this man had made him very nervous.

The big lug lumbered up in his unpressed suit, the chokingly tight collar of his wrinkled shirt enclosing a tie so creased he’d have done better to leave it off. There were greyish bandages over his swollen nose that didn’t begin to cover the swelling around his eyes.

“Hey, Joey. Remember I told you earlier that I’d found out who done this to me? Well, I know where the face-wrecking bitch lives. Thought I’d pay her a short visit.”

“And I thought I told you to drop it. She’s the star here, for Christ’s sake, the Ice Princess. She brings in hundreds of people every night to see her show. You tell me, dumb ass, what’s the boss gonna care more about—your face or her moneymaking performances? Grab a brain, Arnie! She’s off limits! Don’t make me tell you again.”

“I wasn’t gonna hurt her none, just scare her a little.”

The whining tone angered Joey as much as his loss of control over the big jerk.

“The side of that building musta loosened some of the few lonely brain cells roamin’ around in your skull. We made a deal, Arnie. You promised you’d leave her alone.”

“I will, already. But I couldn’t find Parks. I figured for sure he’d be with her. Went to his fancy digs at the casino, but no luck. They musta skipped out together. I seen her show’s been cancelled here, too, so it looks like they split. I went back to the Parks and convinced his doorman to share what he knew about his boss’s travels. Looks like they’re headed for the airport.”

“Whaddaya think? They’re gonna wait around for you to bash their heads in? Let it go, already! Hell! You know she didn’t mean nothin’ personal with the bat. The dumb broad tried to protect one guy getting beat up by three big guys—that’s all.”

Funny, how Joey saw himself. The fact that he’d stood a foot shorter than anyone else at the altercation obviously passed him by.

“Nah, can’t do that. I’m heading for the airport too. You pulled me off her, but he’s fair game. Don’t mess with me on this, Joey. Somebody’s gotta pay for my face, and if you say it has to be him, then I’ll go along with it. After all, I figure the whole thing’s his fault anyway. Why’d he have to mess with your girls in the first place? See what I mean? So, this is what I’m gonna do. I’ll check at the airport to find out where they’re headed, and I’m on the next flight after ‘em. You understand, this is right up my alley. The boss has put me on search-and-kill jobs before, and I always get my man.”

The sweat forming on Joey’s back pooled and then began to itch. He had to warn Parks and Crystal. His thoughts ping-ponged back and forth. He had to think of a way out of this mess, a way to stop the inevitable. He drew a blank.

“I’m coming with you.” Joey frowned at Arnie. Surprise jolted both men, and it was hard to tell who was most affected.

“Why?”

“Why? Because. Because the boss told me to look after you.”

Arnie’s eyes narrowed, and the craftiness he tended to draw on, that made him a good man to have around for doing jobs no one else handled, emerged on his ugly mug. “The boss told you to look after me? What’s he care?”

“Hell, Arnie. He realizes you took a bad rap over the whole situation. He just wants to make sure you’re okay, that’s all, buddy.”

“Yeah?” Arnie thought for a moment. “That’s pretty decent of him, eh, Joey?”

“Yep, He’s a great guy.”

“Okay, then. Let’s go find the patsy and his goody-goody girlfriend—so’s I can settle the score once and for all.”

Chapter Eight

 

The Las Vegas airport, crammed with happy revellers all anxious to hit the gaming fun spots on the Strip and downtown, proved to be bedlam. Crystal, guided by Ash, headed to the nearest ticket counter. The next flight connecting to England included three changeovers, but Ash grabbed the remaining two tickets gladly. Even though there was a later flight that would get them there an hour earlier, he preferred getting Crystal out of town as soon as he could. Why hang around for Arnie to find them holed up in a waiting room?

Ash realized that even though Arnie looked and sounded like an idiot, he was a tracker and had a keen knack for solving puzzles. His reputation implicated him in many of the shadier deals around town. Most likely quite a few of the brutal attacks written up weekly in the papers could be laid at his doorstep.

The Parks boys had always stayed clear of the class of men who lurked in the background of the joint run by Joey and his kind. Getting mixed up in their private dealings could be dangerous, and they had no wish to run in the same circles. The Parks Hotel was on the level, aboveboard and as honest as a casino could be and still make money.

The eventual flights were tedious. Neither Crystal, who sat quietly the whole time, nor Ashley, who worried about leaving the Parks Hotel without Rhett to cover for him, were talkative.

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