An hour later both men were sitting across from him. Charles
folded his hands and smiled absently at them. "Gentlemen, I want to
discuss this Rachel Jones. I want to know everything you can remember about
her."
Ellis and Lowell exchanged looks; then Ellis shrugged. "She's
a good-looking woman–"
"No, I am not interested in her looks. I want to know what
she has said and done. When you searched the beach in her area and went up to
her house, did you go inside?"
"No," Lowell replied.
"Why not?"
"She's got this damned big guard dog who hates men. He won't
let a man in the yard," Ellis explained.
"Even when you took her out to dinner?"
Ellis looked discomfited, as if he disliked admitting that a dog
had scared him off. "She came out to the car.
When I took her home the dog was there
waiting, ready to take my leg off if I moved in the wrong direction."
"So no one has been inside her house."
"No," they both admitted.
"She denied any knowledge of seeing a man, a stranger?"
"There's no way Sabin could have gotten anywhere near that
house without the dog having him for breakfast," Ellis said impatiently,
and Lowell nodded in agreement.
Charles tapped his fingertips together. "Even if she took him
into the house herself? What if she found him? She could have tied the dog up,
then gone back for Sabin. Isn't this possible?"
"Sure, it's possible," Lowell said, frowning. "But
we didn't find any sign of Sabin making it to shore, not even a footprint. The
only thing we noticed was where she dragged shells up from the beach on a
tarp–" He stopped, his eyes meeting Charles's.
"You fools!" Charles hissed. "Something had been
dragged up from the beach and you didn't check it out?"
They looked uncomfortable. "She said it was shells,"
Ellis muttered. "I noticed that she did have some shells on the
windowsills."
"She didn't act like she had anything to hide," Lowell
put in, trying to gloss things over. "I ran into her the next day while
she was shopping. She stopped to talk, about the heat and things like
that…"
"What did she buy? Did you look in her cart?"
"Ah, underwear and, uh, women's things. When she checked out
I saw a pair of jogging shoes. I noticed them because–" Suddenly he went a
sickly shade.
"Because?" Charles prompted dryly.
"Because they looked too big for her."
Charles glared at them, his eyes cold and deadly. "So. She
dragged something up from the beach, something you didn't investigate. Neither
of you has been inside the house. She was buying shoes that were too big for
her, possibly men's shoes. If Sabin has been under our noses all this time and
he's escaped due to your bungling, I personally promise you that your future
won't be pleasant! Noelle!" he called.
She appeared immediately in the door. "Yes, Charles?"
"Call everyone in. We may have found Sabin."
Both Lowell and Ellis looked sick, and both fervently hoped that
this time they
didn't
find Sabin.
"What if you're wrong?" Ellis asked.
"Then the woman may be frightened and upset, but nothing
more. If she doesn't know anything, if she hasn't helped Sabin, then we have no
reason to harm her."
But Charles smiled when he said it, his eyes cold, and Ellis
couldn't believe him.
The sun had set, and twilight had brought out a loud chorus of
frogs and crickets. Ebenezer Duck and his flock waddled around the yard,
reaping the late afternoon harvest of insects, and Joe lay on the porch. Kell
and Sullivan were now at the table, drawing diagrams and discussing plans;
Rachel tried to work on the manuscript, but her mind kept wandering. Kell would
be leaving soon, and dull misery throbbed inside her.
The flock of geese suddenly scattered, honking wildly, and Joe
gave a single bark before he lunged off the porch. Kell and Sullivan acted as
one, ducking away from the table and running soundlessly, on the balls of their
feet, to the living room windows. Rachel bolted out of her office, her face
pale, though she tried to be calm.
"It's probably just Honey," she said, going to the front
door.
"Honey?" Sullivan asked.
"The veterinarian."
A white sedan pulled up in front, and a woman got out. Sullivan
peered out the window and all the color washed out of his face. Resting his
head on the wall, he swore quietly and at length. "It's Jane," he
groaned.
"Hell," Kell muttered.
Rachel opened the door to dart out and catch Joe, who was planted
in the middle of the yard. But before Rachel could get out the door, Jane had
walked around the car and into the yard. "Nice doggie," she said
cheerfully, patting Joe on the head as she passed.
Sullivan and Kell came out on the porch behind Rachel. Jane put
her hands on her hips and glared at her husband. "Since you wouldn't bring
me with you, I decided to follow you!"
Rachel liked Jane Sullivan on
sight.
Anyone who calmly petted Joe, then
faced Grant Sullivan's fury without blinking an eye, was someone Rachel would
like to know. The two women introduced themselves, while Sullivan stood with
his arms folded across his chest, his golden eyes shooting fire as he watched
his wife from beneath lowered brows. "How did you find me?" he
rasped, his voice low and almost soundless. "I made sure I didn't leave a
trail."
Jane sniffed at him. "You didn't, so I did the logical thing
and went where you weren't, and found you."
Turning her back on him, she welcomed Kell
with an enthusiastic hug.
"I knew it
had to be you. No one else could have dragged him away. Are you in
trouble?"
"A little," Kell said, his black eyes filled with
amusement.
"I thought so. I came to help."
"I'll be damned," Grant snapped.
Jane gave him a cool look. "Yes, you may be. Sneaking out and
leaving me with the babies – "
"Where
are
they?"
"With your mother. She thinks I'm doing her a favor. Anyway,
that's what took me so long to get here. I had to take the twins to her. Then I
had to figure out what you'd do if you were trying to keep anyone from knowing
where you were."
"I'm going to turn you over
my knee," he said, and he
looked as if the thought gave him
immense satisfaction.
"You're not getting out
of it this time."
"You can't," she said smugly. "I'm pregnant
again."
Rachel had been enjoying the
spectacle of Grant Sullivan driven to frustration by his pretty, darkeyed wife,
but now she felt almost sorry for him.
He went
pale.
"You can't be."
"I wouldn't bet on that," Kell put in, enjoying this
turn of events as much as Rachel.
"The twins are just six months old," Grant croaked.
"I know that!" Jane replied, her face indignant. "I
was there, remember?"
"We weren't going to have any more for a while."
"The thunderstorm," she said succinctly, and Grant
closed his eyes. He was really white by now, and Rachel was moved to pity.
"Let's go inside, where it's cooler," she suggested,
opening the screen door. She and Kell went inside, but no one followed them.
Rachel peeked out the door; Jane was wrapped in her husband's muscular arms,
and his blond head was bent down to her dark one.
Oddly, that sight added a little more to Rachel's inner pain.
"They made it," she whispered.
Kell's arms slid around her waist, and he pulled her back against
him. "He isn't in it now, remember? He was retired before they ever
met."
Rachel wanted to ask why he couldn't retire, as well, but kept
herself from voicing the question. What had been right for Grant Sullivan
wasn't right for Kell Sabin; Kell was one of a kind. Instead she asked,
"When do you leave?" She should have been proud that her voice was so
steady, but pride didn't mean anything to her at this stage. She would have
begged him on her knees if she thought it would work, but his dedication was
more than lip service.
He was silent for a moment, and she knew she wouldn't like the
answer, even though she was expecting it. "Tomorrow morning."
So she had one more night, unless he and Sullivan planned to spend
most of it working out the details of their objective.
"We're turning in early," he said, touching her hair,
and she twisted in his arms to meet his midnight eyes. His face was remote, but
he wanted her; she could tell it by his touch, by something fleeting in his
expression. Oh, God, how could she ever stand to watch him leave and know that
she'd never see him again?
Jane and Grant came inside, and Jane's face was radiant. Her eyes
widened with delight when she saw Rachel in Kell's arms, but something in their
expressions kept her from saying anything. Jane was nothing if not intuitive.
"Grant won't tell me what's going on," she announced, and crossed her
arms stubbornly. "I'm going to follow you until I find out."
Kell's black brows lifted. "And if I do tell you?"
Jane considered that, looking from Kell to Grant, then back to
Kell. "You want to negotiate, don't you? You want me to go back
home."
"You
are
going back home," Grant said quietly,
steel in his voice. "If Sabin wants to fill you in, that's up to him, but
this new baby gives me twice the reason to make sure you're safe on the farm,
instead of risking your neck chasing after me."
There was a glint in Jane's eyes
that made Rachel think Sullivan would have a fight on his hands, but Kell
forestalled that by saying, "All right, I think you deserve to know what's
happened, since Grant's involved in it now.
Let's sit down, and I'll fill you in."
"On a 'need to know' basis," Jane guessed accurately,
and Kell gave her his humorless smile.
"Yes. You know there are always details that can't be
discussed, but I can tell you most of it."
They sat around the table, and Kell sketched in the main points of
what had happened, the implications and why he needed Grant. When he had
finished Jane looked at both the men for a long time, then slowly nodded.
"You have to do it." Then she leaned forward, planted both hands on
the table and bent an uncompromising look on Sabin, who met it squarely.
"But let me tell you, Kell Sabin, that if anything happens to Grant, I'll
come after you. I didn't go through all that trouble to get him for anything to
happen to him now."
Kell didn't respond, but Rachel knew what he was thinking. If
anything happened it wasn't likely that he would survive, either. She didn't
know how she knew what was in his mind, but she did. Her senses were locked on
Kell, and his slightest gesture or change of tone registered on her nerves with
the force of an earthquake on the most sensitive seismograph.
Grant stood up, drawing Jane up to stand beside him. "It's
time we got some sleep, since we're leaving so early in the morning. And you're
going home," he said to his wife. "Give me your word."
Now that she knew what was involved, Jane didn't argue. "All
right. I'll go home after I pick up the twins. What I want to know is when I
can expect you back."
Grant glanced at Kell. "Three days?"
Kell nodded.
Rachel got to her feet. In three days it would be over, one way or
the other, but for her it would end in the morning.
In the meantime she had to make sleeping
arrangements for the Sullivans, and she was almost grateful to have something
that would occupy her time, if not her mind.
She apologized to Jane for the lack of an extra bed, but it didn't
seem to bother Jane at all. "Don't worry about us," Jane soothed.
"I've slept with Grant in tents, caves and sheds, so a nice living room
floor isn't any hardship to us."
With Jane's help Rachel gathered quilts and extra pillows for a
pallet, taking them from the top of her closet and stacking them on Jane's
arms. Jane eyed her shrewdly. "You're in love with Kell, aren't you?"
"Yes." Rachel said the one word steadily, not even
thinking of denying it. It was a fact, as much a part of her as her gray eyes.
"He's a hard, unusual man, but top quality steel has to be
hard to be top quality. It won't be easy. I know. Look at the man I
chose."
They looked at each other, two women with a world of knowledge in
their eyes. For good or ill, the men they loved were different from other men,
and they would never have the security most women could expect.
"When he leaves tomorrow, it's over," Rachel said, her
throat tight. "He won't be back."
"He
wants
it to be over," Jane clarified, her
brown eyes unusually somber. "But don't say that he won't be back. Grant
didn't want to marry me. He said it wouldn't work, that our lives were too
different and I'd never fit into his world. Sound familiar?"
"Oh, yes." Her eyes and voice were bleak.
"I had to let him go, but in the end he came after me."
"Grant was already retired. Kell won't retire, and the job is
the problem."
"It's a big problem, but not insurmountable.
Loving
someone is hard for men like Grant and Kell to accept.
They've always been alone."
Yes, Kell had always been alone, and he was determined to keep it
that way. Knowing and understanding his reasons didn't make living with them
any easier. She left Jane and Grant to bed down in the living room, and Kell
followed her into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. She stood in the
middle of the room with her hands tightly clenched, her eyes shadowed as she
watched him.
"We should have left tonight," he said quietly.
"But I wanted one more night with you."
She wouldn't let herself cry, not tonight. No matter what happened
she would wait until tomorrow, until he was gone. He turned out the light and
came to her in the darkened room, his rough hands closing on her shoulders and
pulling her against him. His mouth was hard, hungry, almost hurting her as he
kissed her with savage need. His tongue probed at hers, demanding a response
that was slow in coming, because the pain was so great inside her. He kept on
kissing her, sliding his hands over her back and hips, cradling her against the
warmth of his body, until finally she began to relax and yield to him.
"Rachel," he whispered, unbuttoning her shirt to find
her naked breasts and cup them in his warm palms. Slowly he circled her nipples
with his thumbs and enticed them to hardness; the warmth, the tightening sense
of excitement and anticipation began to intensify inside her.
Her body knew him and responded,
growing heavy and moist, readying her for him because she knew he wouldn't
leave her unsatisfied.
He slid the shirt off her
shoulders, pinning her arms to her sides with the fabric while he lifted her,
arching her over his arm and thrusting her breasts up to him.
Deliberately he put his mouth over
her nipple and sucked at her, the strong motion drawing hot tingles from her
sensitive flesh.
She made a faint, gasping sound of
pleasure as the sensations swept from her breasts into her lower abdomen, where
desire was pulling at her.
Her head swam, and she had the sudden sensation of falling, which
made her clutch at his waist. It wasn't until she felt the coolness of the bed
beneath her that she realized he had been lowering her to its surface. Her
shirt was caught beneath her, with the sleeves trapped and twisted midway
between her elbows and wrists, effectively pinning her arms while her upper
torso lay bare for his marauding lips and tongue to savor. He looked down at
her with a tortured, hungry expression in his eyes, then bent and buried his
face between her breasts, his hands squeezing them together around his face as
if he wanted to lose himself in the scent and feel of her satiny flesh.
She moaned as her body throbbed in
need, and tried futilely to wrest her arms free.
"Kell." Her voice was high, strained. "Let me get
my arms out."
He lifted his head and appraised the situation. "Not
yet," he murmured. "Just lie there and let me love you until you're
ready for me."
She made a rough sound of frustration, trying to roll to one side
so she could free herself, but Kell subdued her, his hard hands holding her
flat on her back. "I
am
ready," she insisted before his mouth
came down on hers and stifled any further protests.
When he raised his head again it was with hot satisfaction stamped
on his taut features. "Not like you will be." Then he bent to her
breasts again, not stopping until they were wet and gleaming from his mouth and
her nipples were red and achingly tight. Gently he bit the undercurve of her
breast, using his teeth just enough to let her feel them but not enough to
bring pain.
"Let's get you out of these."
The strain was evident in
his voice, too, as he tugged at the fastening of her shorts.
It came free, and the zipper rasped quietly as he slid it down.
His hand went inside the opened shorts, burrowing under her panties to find the
warm, moist, aching flesh he sought. "Ah," he said in quiet
satisfaction as his fingers explored her and found her ready, indeed. "You
liked that, didn't you?"
"Yes." All she could do was whimper the word.
"You'll like it better when I'm inside you," he promised
huskily, and slid her panties and shorts down her hips and thighs, but not off.
He left them just above her knees, and her legs were trapped as effectively as
her arms. Slowly he ran his hand over her, from her breasts down over her flat
belly, to linger at her naked loins.
She writhed under his probing fingers, her heart thundering in her
chest and interfering with the rhythm of her breathing. "Don't you even
think
it," she cried, her hands clutching at the sheet beneath her. He was
looking at her in a way that told her he liked holding her helpless while he
teased her and enjoyed her body. He was more than a little uncivilized, his
instincts swift and primeval.