Lisa Jackson – Secrets and Desire: Best-Kept Lies / Miss Pruitt's Private Life / Secrets, Lies...and Passion (страница 18)

“Maybe that’s all we’ll need.” He sped around a fuel truck, but his voice lacked conviction.

“Listen, Striker, we’ve got to nail this creep and soon,” Randi said as the wipers slapped away the rain. “I need my life back.”

The look he sent her sliced into her soul. “So do I.”

The bitch wouldn’t get away with it.

Three cars behind Striker’s truck, gloved hands tight over the steering wheel, the would-be killer drove carefully, coming close to the pickup, then backing off, listening to a CD from the eighties as red taillights blurred. Jon Bon Jovi’s voice wailed through the speakers and the stalker licked dry lips as the pickup cut across the floating bridge, over the steely waters of Lake Washington. Who knew where they were headed? To the suburbs of upscale Bellevue? Or somewhere around Lake Sammamish? Maybe farther into the forested hills. Even the Cascade Mountains.

Whatever.

It didn’t matter.

Sweet vengeance brought a smile to the stalker’s lips.

Randi McCafferty’s destination was about to become her final resting place.

Nine

“Get the baby ready,” Kurt said as he took an exit off the freeway. Glancing in the rearview mirror to be certain he wasn’t followed, he doubled back, heading west, only to get off at the previous stop and drive along a frontage heading toward Seattle again.

“What are we doing?” Randi asked.

“Changing vehicles.” Carefully he timed the stoplights, making certain he was the last vehicle through the two intersections before turning down one street and pulling into a gas station.

“What? Why?”

“I’m not taking any chances that we’re being followed.”

“You saw someone?”

“No.”

“But—”

“Just make it fast and jump into that brown SUV.” He nodded toward the back of the station to a banged-up vehicle with tinted windows and zero chrome. The SUV was completely nondescript, the fenders and tires splattered with mud. “It belongs to a friend of mine,” Striker said. “He’s waiting. He’ll drive the truck.”

“This is nuts,” Randi muttered, but she unstrapped the baby seat and pulled it, along with Joshua, from the truck.

“I don’t think so.”

Quickly, as Randi did as she was told, Striker topped off his tank.

Eric was waiting for them. He’d been talking on his cell phone and smoking a cigarette, but spying Striker, tossed the cigarette into a puddle and gave a quick wave. Ending his call, he helped Randi load up, then traded places with Kurt. The entire exchange had taken less than a minute. Seconds after that, Kurt was in the driver’s seat of the Jeep, heading east again.

“I don’t think I can stand all of this cloak-and-dagger stuff,” Randi complained, and even in the darkness he saw the outline of her jaw, the slope of her cheek, the purse of those incredible lips. Good Lord, she was one helluva woman. Intriguingly beautiful, sexy as hell, smarter than she needed to be and endowed with a tongue sharp enough to cut through a strong man’s ego.

“Sure you can.”

“Whatever my brothers are paying you, it’s not enough.”

“That’s probably true.” He glanced at her once more, then turned his attention to the road. Night had fallen, but the rain had let up a bit. His tires sang on the wet pavement and the rumble of the SUV’s engine was smooth and steady. The baby was quiet in the back seat, and for the first time in years Kurt felt a little sensation of being with family. Which was ridiculous. The woman was a client, the child just part of the package. He told himself to remember that. No matter what else. He was her bodyguard. His job was to keep her alive and find out who was trying to kill her.

Nothing more.

What about the other night at the ranch? his damning mind taunted. Remember how much you wanted her, how you went about seducing her? How can you forget the thrill of slipping her robe off her shoulders and unveiling those incredible breasts. What about the look of surprise and wonder in her eyes, or the soft, inviting curve of her lips as you kissed the hollow of her throat. Think about the raw need that drove you to untie the belt at her waist. The robe gave way, the nightgown followed and she was naked aside from a slim gold chain and locket at her throat. You didn’t waste any time kicking off your jeans. You wanted her, Striker. More than you’ve ever wanted a woman in your life. You would have died to have her and you did, didn’t you? Over and over again. Feeling her heat surround you, listening to the pounding of your heart and feeling your blood sing through your veins. You were so hot and hard, nothing could have stopped you. What about then, when you gave in to temptation?

The back of his neck tightened as he remembered and his inner voice continued to taunt him.

If you can convince yourself that Randi McCafferty is just another client, then you’re a bigger fool than you know.

* * *

It was late by the time the Jeep bounced along the rocky, mossy ruts that constituted the driveway to what could only be loosely called a cabin. Set deep in the forest and barricaded by a locked gate to which Kurt had miraculously had the key, the place was obviously deserted and had been for a long time. Randi shuddered inwardly as the Jeep’s headlights illuminated the sorry little bungalow. Tattered shades were drawn over the windows, rust was evident in the few downspouts that were still connected to the gutters, and the moss-covered roof sagged pitifully.

“You sure you don’t want to look for a Motel 6?” she asked. “Even a Motel 2 would be an improvement over this.”

“Not yet.” Kurt had already pulled on the emergency brake and cut the engine. “Think of it as rustic.”

“Right. Rustic. And quaint.” She shook her head.

“This used to be the gatekeeper’s house when this area was actively being logged,” he explained.

“And now?” She stepped out of the Jeep and her boots sank in the soggy loam of the forest floor.

“It’s been a while since the cabin’s been inhabited.”

“A long while, I’d guess. Come on, baby, it’s time to check out our new digs.” She hauled Joshua in his carrier up creaky porch steps as Kurt, with the aid of a flashlight and another key, opened a door that creaked as it swung inward.

Kurt tried a light switch. Nothing. Just a loud click. “Juice isn’t turned on, I guess.”

“Fabulous.”

He found a lantern and struck a match. Immediately the room was flooded with a soft golden glow that couldn’t hide the dust, cobwebs and general malaise of the place. The floor was scarred fir, the ceiling pine was stained where rainwater had seeped inside and it smelled of must and years of neglect.

“Home sweet home,” she cracked.

“For the time being.” But Kurt was already stalking through the small rooms, running his flashlight along the floor and ceiling. “We won’t have electricity, but we’ll manage.”

“So no hot water, light or heat.”

“But a woodstove and lanterns. We’ll be okay.”

“What about a bathroom?”

He shook his head. “There’s an old pump on the porch and, if you’ll give me a minute—” he looked in a few cupboards and closets before coming up with a bucket “—voila! An old fashioned Porta Potti.”

“Give me a break,” she muttered.

“Come on, you’re a McCafferty. Rustic living should be a piece of cake.”

“Let me give you a clue, Striker. This is waaaay beyond rustic.”

“I heard you were a tomboy growing up.”

“Slade talks too much.”

“Probably. But you used to camp all the time.”

“In the summers. I was twelve or thirteen.”

“It’s like riding a bike. You never forget how.”

“We’ll see.” But she didn’t complain as they hauled in equipment that had been loaded into the Jeep. Sleeping bags, canned goods, a cooler for fresh food, cooking equipment, paper plates, propane stove, towels and toilet paper. “You thought this through.”

“I just told Eric to pack the essentials.”

“What about a phone?”

“Our cells should work.”

Scrounging in her purse, she found her phone, yanked it out and turned it on. The back-lit message wasn’t encouraging. “Looking for service,” she read aloud, and watched as the cell failed to find a signal. “Hopefully yours is stronger.”

He flashed her a grin that seemed to sizzle in the dim light. “I already checked. It works.”