Kane (24 page)

His weight confined her, held her immobile. The silken swirls of hair on his chest teased the curves of her breasts, her upper abdomen. Then he entered in fast, relentless invasion, probing the warm, moist vulnerability at the center of her being with the satin-sheathed steel length of his maleness. She gave a gasping cry, writhing against him with the sudden filling, then she was absolutely still.

He hovered above her, unmoving. Slowly, she lifted her lashes. For endless moments, his eyes held hers, his own dark with bitter triumph. She sustained that
regard with defiance. Regardless, she could not prevent the slow, acid seep of tears. They pooled in her eyes and overflowed, collecting in the hollows beneath her lashes, running backward in wet tracks into her hair. At the same time, her muscles, her nerves, her mind, began an inevitable rejection.

A long shudder, like a tidal wave of the blood, ran over her. She tried to stop it, breathing rapidly so her chest rose and fell against him, clenching her muscles, her jaws, fists, and even the internal ring that encompassed him. That only made it worse, for she was that much more aware of him inside her, of his intimate possession, his dominance.

Abruptly, his face changed. The glaze of anger fled from his eyes, leaving them strained and liquid with remorse. “Don't,” he whispered. “Please don't. Dear God, Regina, I'm so sorry. I don't know what—I'm just so sorry.”

He released her, cupping her face with one palm. She clasped his broad shoulders, meaning to push him away. He started to rise, to disengage, but that movement made her feel panicky. She sensed long years of fear stretching before her. And an incipient loneliness more desolate even than the wound to the heart he had given her.

Abruptly, she wrapped her legs and arms around him, gripping tight, holding him to her in sudden, convulsive need. “Help me,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Please help me.”

His lashes flickered in a hesitation so slight it might have passed unnoticed if she hadn't been so aware of his every breath, his every pulsing heartbeat. Then he bent his head and brushed her soft lips with his own
in mute apology. In a quick experiment, he slipped his tongue lightly along the sensitive line where they joined before raising his head with a question in his eyes.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, yes.”

He eased inside her once more, his gaze still resting on her face to gauge her reaction. Her tension faded. She drew a slow breath, felt herself relax still more. But she didn't want to be watched or tested. She wanted forgetfulness, erasure, mindless ease for the ache in her heart and the dread of being forever fearful of love that hovered so close around her. She smoothed her hand along the strong slope of his shoulder to his neck, then pressed him deeper inside her once more.

He followed her lead while kissing her brow, her eyes and cheekbones, the tender skin below her ear. Against the turn of her neck, he murmured, “I told you once I was not nearly so noble as you thought. I didn't intend to prove it.”

“I never meant to give you cause,” she answered, a breath of sound.

He sighed. “Tell me what you want and it's yours.”

“Love me,” she said, and turned her head in a quick, compulsive movement to put her lips to the hard molding of his jaw. Or she thought she said the words, though she may have spoken them only in her mind. Either way, the results were the same.

He gathered her close and made amends of slow, thorough caresses and long kisses that were as deliberate, hot and deep as a Southern summer. He melted her bones and molded her to him, setting aside all anger, all fear. Drawing out her desire, he tended it,
stoked it, drove it higher until she clung, moist and panting, hovering on the edge of conflagration. Then he caught her hips and took them both up in flames, driving out her terror for good, giving her the healing strength of his power and the gift of utter transcendence. Afterward, courteous and protective, he smoothed the tangled strands of hair from her face, cradled her against him, and soothed her until she slept in his arms.

But he made no promises.

W
hat in the name of heaven was he doing?

Kane couldn't quite remember agreeing to this child abduction scheme, yet here he was, winging his way toward New York with Regina like some brain-damaged commando on a secret mission. Pops had often told him his temper would get him in trouble one day. He should have listened. Out of rage and righteousness, he'd made a fatal mistake, one that left him hot with shame every time he thought about it. Which was too often for any kind of comfort.

What had got into him? The trigger, he thought, had been hearing that he meant nothing to Regina Dalton, had no place in her life. To her, he was the hick Louisiana lawyer she'd conned into thinking she was a sexual neophyte, someone she could use any way she had in mind. She'd made a fool of him, it seemed, and thought she could do it again with her pitiful tale about her son. He'd intended to show her it wasn't going to happen, had meant to force her to offer her body in exchange for what she claimed to want, then walk away without taking her up on it.

He'd gone too far.

In his stupid, stubborn pride and trust in his own infallibility, he'd declined to consider that she might
be telling the truth, or what desperation might force her to do. He'd also failed to allow for her effect on him. Her sweet, naked vulnerability had gone to his head. One touch, and what he'd been thinking with was no longer his brain.

He'd lost control. Lost sight of everything except the need to have her in the most basic, primitive way possible since she could never belong to him in any other.

It was amazing she hadn't called the cops and had him arrested. She might well have talked Roan into it. His cousin the sheriff was as much a stickler for the letter of the law as Kane was himself, and a pushover for a wronged female.

Wronged. By him, Kane Benedict. No matter how often he winced away from the idea.

It was the tears that had gotten to him finally. Even for the few seconds when he'd been certain they were blackmail of the worst kind, they'd still clutched at his heart. It almost killed him when he realized they were real. Nothing had mattered then, except his desperate need to make the mistake up to her.

She had let him. She'd reached out to him, asking him silently to soothe the pain he'd caused, give her back the trust he'd taken away. The tenderness of that surrender caught at his heart with a stabbing ache. The passion she'd summoned to match his need was something he would remember all his days.

He had tried to take her self-respect and wound up losing his own. She had abandoned her pride for the sake of her need, and in the process returned his self-respect to him.

He'd said something about allowing himself to be
used, doing whatever she wanted. That must have been where his agreement to this wild conspiracy had come from. That was all right, then. He was obligated to her. And the Benedicts never shirked a debt.

If he was going to go through with this, he'd make a damned good job of it. No half measures, no mercy. He almost wished Berry was going to be on hand when they took the boy, wished he'd try to stop them. In the mood he was in, Kane thought, it would be a great pleasure to mend his manners for him.

Luke, in the pilot's seat beside him, took his gaze from the controls of the plane that was winging through the late evening and studied him a moment. With wry amusement in his dark eyes, he said, “Don't look so grim, son. If they catch us, the charge will only be kidnapping with maybe assault and battery thrown in for good measure. The worst that can happen is they'll clap you behind bars and throw away the key.”

“A regular bundle of cheer, aren't you?” Kane answered. “I knew I brought you along for something.”

“You brought me along because it's downright awkward to pull off a decent kidnapping with public transport.”

“There is that.” The fact that his cousin could make anything from a Learjet to a crop duster behave as if an angel was at the controls, plus had friends who didn't mind lending their company planes, also played a part. More than that, Luke was a good man to have at your back.

“That you needed a referee was only an afterthought, I suppose,” Luke added, his expression bland.

“Now why would you think that?”

Luke gave him a brief look. “I can read the signs. You're in deep manure, buddy, with no way out except to paddle like hell. Only what you can't see is that fertilizer makes the roses bloom.”

“Meaning?”

“Stop paddling, fool.”

“An expert, are you? That mean you and April are all straightened out?” The jeer was a low blow, but better than dignifying the rest of his cousin's observation with an answer. He'd been forced to tell Luke the whole story before he'd agree to be a part of this rescue effort. Could be he'd told him too much.

“Yeah, well, we all screw up from time to time,” Luke said as hard lines formed around his mouth. “You're just doing it on purpose.”

“You don't know what you're talking about.”

“I know you're making Regina pay for what Francie put you through. That strikes me as more than a tad unfair.”

“Mind your own damned business.”

Irritation flashed in Luke's eyes. “A fine argument, Counselor, so profound, so articulate, so logical. You should wow a jury with it sometime.”

For a moment, anger burned in the pit of Kane's stomach. Then it faded as he realized Luke was right. Not that he had any intention of admitting it. Turning his head to stare out at the faraway glow of a town on the dark horizon, he said, “I won't have to worry since this is going to get me disbarred for life.”

“No problem. Melville can take over the whole trial instead of just jury selection.”

Kane gave a morose nod. Trial strategy was one of
the things he'd discussed with Luke and Roan the night of the open house. “He's all set to kick things off anyway, when we get started on Monday.”

“You're all right, then. He's a good man.”

It was, in the lexicon of Turn-Coupe, fulsome praise. Kane agreed, and they let the subject drop. After a few minutes, he turned in his seat to glance toward where Regina sat in the main cabin. She was leaning back with her eyes closed.

Luke, noticing where his attention had wandered, spoke on a quieter note beneath the engine roar. “So have you thought about what you're going to do with Regina and the boy afterward?”

“Why would I do anything? They're not my responsibility.”

“Fat chance she'll have of staying ahead of Berry if he's bent on getting the boy back, then, but I guess that's not important. You'll have kept your part of the bargain, now won't you?”

“Exactly,” Kane said.

Luke muttered something he didn't quite catch, but it seemed best not to ask him to repeat it.

It was some time later that Kane got to his feet and moved back to where Regina was sitting. She hadn't stirred in so long that he figured she was asleep, and he was right. Taking a light blanket from a side bin, he shook it out and draped it over her. As he tucked a fold behind her to hold it in place, his fingers brushed her hair. The silken touch scorched his nerve endings as if he'd brushed against a live wire. He straightened abruptly, but didn't move away.

She looked so fragile lying there. Shadows of exhaustion lay like purple bruises under her eyes, and
her freckles stood out against the paleness of her skin. Her mouth was tender and moist, her lips slightly parted as she breathed in the even cadence of sleep. She was so defenseless yet delectable that he was torn by a strong urge to sit down and pull her into his lap. The only trouble was, he couldn't be sure whether his impulse after that would be to protect her from all comers or ravish her himself.

God, what was he coming to that he could even think of such a thing? She was driving him crazy, stirring up dark corners of his soul that he'd thought decently mastered in adolescence. The fierce ache of need she roused in him was like an addiction. The more he had of her, the more he wanted, and the more he wanted her, the more it seemed who or what she was, or where she was leading him, made no difference compared to the need to hold her in his arms.

He didn't like it. It was galling. It was also scary. The sooner she was out of his life, the sooner he could repossess his common sense and be himself again.

Bringing her on this trip was a bad idea. He and Luke needed to move fast and by instinct if they were to have any chance of success. The last thing they needed was a woman slowing them down.

She'd refused to stay behind. Short of locking her up, there had been no way they could prevent her from coming with them. She could get them into Berry's apartment without their having to circumvent normal security, she'd said, and the boy would also be easier to manage. Both things were probably true. Still, he wished she was back in Turn-Coupe. She was an extra person to be safeguarded, another soft, warm body that could be harmed if they made a misstep. It was bad
enough being responsible for her son, a child who might get in harm's way if there was trouble; keeping an eye on Regina, as well, was one worry too many.

At the same time, he had a grudging respect for her refusal to stay behind. She obviously distrusted Berry every bit as much as she adored her son. She was terrified the kid would be hurt if she wasn't there to protect him. As if she could protect a gnat.

Still, she hadn't yelled or screamed or begged. She'd just set her jaw and looked at him and Luke as if they were Neanderthals without a set of finer feelings between them. Who knew? Maybe she was right.

He admired a great many things about her. She might have her faults, but she also had a rare kind of strength. She did what she had to do and didn't count the cost. She fought her demons instead of letting them conquer her. She stared defeat in the face and didn't flinch. Not many could say the same.

He didn't like admitting that, either.

When the trial was over, she would be out of his life. She would go away somewhere with her son and that would be the end of it. No doubt it would be for the best.

He reached out once more, taking a fine strand of her hair between his fingers again, feeling its tingling warmth. He had wondered, with Pops that first day, if it would burn. It did, it had, and he would carry the scars his whole life long.

The landing in New York was uneventful. The paperwork for the return trip was a major pain, but something that had to be done. It took time, however, so it was late when they reached the apartment. That was fine because everyone should be asleep. With any
luck, they could be in and have the situation under control before the bodyguard and nurse knew what was happening.

Berry was not supposed to be in residence, which was one reason they had chosen tonight. A check with his law firm had revealed that he was scheduled to arrive in Baton Rouge this evening for the start of the trial on Monday. That was one complication out of the way.

They breezed past the doorman, who greeted Regina and asked about her trip with such smiling, single-minded attention he hardly seemed to notice she had two strangers behind her. Once they were upstairs, Kane used Regina's key, then pushed the apartment door open and let it swing back on silent hinges. He glanced toward the spot where he had positioned her down the hall, making sure she was out of the way. She gave him a small wave, her face reassuringly calm.

Taking out the handgun that nestled under his belt at the small of his back and holding it ready, Kane nodded at Luke, who was also armed. In tandem, they slid inside and whipped away from the door, pressing their shoulders to the near wall. They waited in strained silence while searching in the dimness for movement, listening intently for sound.

Nothing.

It was clear. They moved forward.

Regina had described the layout of the apartment in detail, including the sleeping arrangements. Her room should be the first on the right of the long hall that opened from the living room. The nurse ought to be in the one at the far end on the same side, with the
boy's bedroom sandwiched between the two. Berry's master suite lay across the hall, while the bodyguard had a smaller room next to it.

With Luke behind him, Kane skirted overstuffed leather furniture and heavy tables while blessing the sound deadening effects of Berber carpet. The two of them were helped, more than expected, by the lambent glow of millions of city lights that filtered through the expanse of uncovered glass in the penthouse walls. It penetrated everywhere, turning the interior into a milky, brownish gray underworld.

The door of the bodyguard's bedroom was closed. Kane and Luke stationed themselves on either side of it. At Kane's nod, Luke reached out one hand to turn the knob. They sprang inside and rushed the bed.

There were two people under the covers. The bodyguard was just heaving himself up, reaching for a handgun that lay on the bedside table. Kane lashed out with a hard kick that made the man grunt with pain as he crashed into his bed companion. Then Kane lunged to jerk the man in the bed over and chop a hard forearm across his throat. Shoving the muzzle of his weapon under the bodyguard's chin, he said in hard warning, “Freeze, if you like breathing.”

The woman in the bed, an overblown blonde whose raccoon circles from smudged eye makeup were visible even in the uncertain light, uttered muffled curses as she fought free of the covers. Seeing Kane hovering over her lover, she dragged in her breath to scream. Luke, skirting the bed, placed the muzzle of his handgun gently between her pendulous and very naked breasts. She changed her mind.

Within seconds, the bodyguard, sleep stupid and
with laughably tiny black briefs covering his crotch beneath his beer belly, was securely tied and gagged. So was the nurse. They made swearing, protesting noises as Kane and Luke left them roped together in the middle of the bed, but were ignored without a qualm.

Kane started toward the living room to summon Regina. It wasn't necessary; she was already inside. She emerged from Berry's study, tucking a small, square object into her shoulder bag as she walked. Kane wondered briefly what she'd found to repossess besides her son before annoyance banished the question from his mind.