Navy SEAL Surrender (13 page)

The soothing gesture hit him somewhere between his heart and lower regions. Sexy, natural, pleasing. It was all of the things he wanted but seemed far out of his reach.

He heard the cell vibrating in the dirt where he’d dropped it during the scuffle with Brian. His brother plopped easily on the ground to sit and answered it as he scooped it up. Speaker on, it was flat in his brother’s palm before John could object.

“Sloane, cop scanner has them heading for this place. Somebody must have reported seeing you here. I’m taking a few essentials and packing out since you took my rental and your vehicle seems compromised.” Devlin’s stressed voice filled the awkward silence.

“Sorry, man.”

“It’ll take me a half hour to trek this stuff to another car. Where we meeting up?”

“That location I had you checking out. We’re there now.”

“Roger. Gotta run. Literally.”

The line disconnected and Brian held out the phone. John grabbed it, shoving the thing in his back pocket. He checked his lower back. No weapon—not in the dirt anywhere. Man, he’d left it in the car. What was wrong with him?

His brother stretched and yawned. Relaxed. Really relaxed and comfortable. He touched his forehead and then shoved his hand across the high and tight haircut. “Dammit, I hate short hair. Top of my head’ll be sunburned for sure first time I feed the horses.”

“Tell me about it.” He scratched his own scruff, noticing they now had the same exact cut. “I’ve lost my cover a time or two in training. Sunburn up top is the worst.”

Mabel would make a great military barber.

“Well, not the worst. I remember your mother talking about you two skinny-dipping one summer,” Alicia dropped casually as she picked up the saddlebags. “Didn’t you both fall asleep without any clothes?”

They all burst out laughing. That had been a miserable week spent sitting in alcohol and oatmeal baths. “At least when we fell asleep we were in the shade and not trying to lose our tan lines.”

“Oh, my gosh, the burn I got that summer was horrible.” Alicia protectively covered her breasts.

He remembered the miserable couple of days she’d walked around braless. Just as miserable for him and his imagination as for her and her sunburned flesh.

“Both of us were sicker than dogs,” Brian said, still on the ground, one arm draped over a bent knee. “What now?”

He wished he knew. John was surprised his brother had asked the question instead of Alicia. But at a glance he knew she’d wanted to. It was in her eyes, along with the worry and fright concerning the unknown. Still there. She might smile and laugh, but it was still there.

“I, for one, am hoping there’s food in those saddlebags.” She headed for the hand-tooled leather.

Brian nodded. “Mabel sent something. I threw in a change of clothes. My old boots are still on my saddle. Just in case you need to go into town impersonating me. Not many people look my direction or talk much to me, so you won’t need to get up-to-date on my life or anything to keep up,” he added with an unfamiliar smirk.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“And never smile. Brian never, ever smiles when he’s in town,” Alicia teased.

“Right.”

What was the tension he was picking up between these two? Was it real? Or just a continuation of the night of the fire? She’d told him that what he’d seen had all been a joke. A simple dare from Brian’s friends. He hadn’t found it that funny, and they’d argued. Then they’d broken up afterward because of him not believing her.

At least he thought they had. They must have. Great. He felt like he was eighteen again. Confused emotions and a growing ache for Alicia that just wouldn’t stop—no matter who was around or what danger they were in.

He wanted to pull her close to him. Her arms were still above her head, so they’d fall on his shoulders and her breasts would end up flush with his chest. The image of her next to him was so clear in his mind, he shook his head to get rid of it.

When he opened his eyes, she stood close in front of him, a perplexed wrinkle between her brows. But Brian...he had a knowing look. An “I told you so” laugh that turned into a short approving whistle.

“Where were you just now?” Alicia asked, still searching his face with questioning dark blue eyes.

“Yeah, brother dearest, where were you?”

Brian knew exactly where he’d been. No doubt about it. Behind Alicia’s back he spotted his brother mouthing,
It’s about damn time.
The momentary panic trying to creep up his spine was just confusion at his brother’s perceptive grin. His twin seemed...almost happy at the prospect he was having thoughts about Alicia. Didn’t his brother want her for himself?

Brian shook his head and muttered, “You’re still an idiot.”

“You’re both idiots and we’re wasting time,” Alicia said, turning from John to face Brian, with a bit of apple between her lips. “You’re no better than he is, you know. By the way, I’m sorry you went to jail because of me.”

“No big deal.”

“It’s always a big deal.” She dragged a finger across Brian’s jaw. “That’s not from your scuffle with John. Sure wish we had a frozen bag of peas to put on it. I really am sorry.”

Brian’s gaze connected with his and he took a quick couple of steps away from Alicia. If his brother could read him, he was definitely picking up on the instant jealousy that had taken over with an instant thought that had popped in his head.

Mine!

Her sympathy should be directed at him. John.
He
was the one who had the crap beat out of him by a giant while trying to unsuccessfully rescue her child.

Get past it. She isn’t yours. She’s with you because she has no other choice. Just move on and find her daughter. Then you can get the hell away from her and whatever this possessiveness is all about.

Right. Past her. Past the feeling of wanting someone who was much too good for him. He didn’t deserve anyone as special as Alicia Adams. He knew it even if no one else did.

Chapter Eighteen

“What are we going to do now?” Shauna screeched as soon as the housekeeper had taken Lauren upstairs.

Break your neck so the endless screeching will stop.
The situation was heartbreaking to only himself, but Patrick admitted he’d have to endure several weeks of screeching before it would ever stop. But he could dream.

The brat had screamed and cried for her mother every minute after the police escort to the station. She’d shut up as soon as he’d reminded her of what had happened to her babysitter. In fact, she hadn’t uttered a word after he’d whispered in her ear. He wished the same could be said for Shauna.

Patrick watched his hysterical wife frantically twist a strand of the red frizz she took an hour to straighten every time she saw it in a mirror. He hated her hair. Almost as much as he hated her. The dyed color was purple in fluorescent light, nowhere near the red on the box. He knew only because she’d ranted for days and days that they should sue the hair-color company.

In his sad, wimpy way, he’d agreed with her until she’d moved on to the next threat of a lawsuit and rant.

Tory had had lovely hair.

He sat on the end of the couch and flipped up the built-in footrest. “You’ve got the kid, dear. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

He yawned. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he’d sleep like a hibernating bear. He opened his mouth to suggest they head upstairs. Then reconsidered. He knew his partner in crime needed to spout her concerns out loud and he didn’t want the housekeeper hearing her.

I wonder if I could slip a sleeping pill into her drink? Or two or three?

She’d pass out on the couch and he’d have the bed to himself, minus the stench of her night creams and moisturizers.

No. If he did, she would oversleep in the morning and the complaining would be worse. Tomorrow was an early one. Lots of bathroom prep for the camera attention she craved.

“The police suspect something. I know they do.” Shauna poured herself a two-finger drink of his good scotch and shot it back easier than water.

“Keep your voice down. As long as you don’t talk about it, they won’t have any idea we’re behind everything.”
Same as you have no idea I’ve been pulling all the strings for years.
He sat forward, no longer relaxed, needing to be alert to keep her calm. “You heard them at the station. They issued a warrant for Alicia.”

She slammed the glass down on the bar. “But not Brian. He was there. You saw him sitting under your girlfriend. That bitch, Mabel, is lying for him.”

“Why does it matter so much? It’s Alicia you want destroyed, right?”

She twisted more of her straw-like hair. Then pulled at the bottom of her shirt. She’d freak out when she realized that the kid had gotten dirt all over the frilly white thing Shauna had worn. His wife had wanted to be photographed in the see-through blouse after they’d “rescued” Lauren.

Everything was about appearances and the money.
Nothing wrong with money as long as you have plenty of it.
Even Tory had been all about the money. More of it. Every question had been about the money and how they were going to use it to get to Paris.

Well, he’d been to Paris and had no desire to go back. The money would last longer on a beach in Mexico, and that was where he was headed as soon as this crap was done. The kid would officially be in their custody and shipped off to a boarding school. God, how long would
that
take?

Shauna would come with him, of course. He already had her careful scrawling signature down pat. So he wouldn’t have to put up with her too long while he transferred all the money to himself.

Once she’s gone...heaven.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Of course I am, sweetheart.”
Not really. My fantasies are much better company.

He was lucky he didn’t choke on the endearment. He’d transfer the money as fast as he could and would savor choking her scrawny neck. He had dreamed about it several times and would have all the details planned. He’d insist they rent a sailboat, small enough he could manage it on his own. Even now he could envision her tanned skin in one of those bright white string bikinis she liked to wear. He’d bring her a drink—something fruity so she’d sip it slowly. She’d sit up on her towel; he’d offer to put more lotion on her back to keep her from burning.

Then he’d slip his fingers gently across her larynx and tighten his grip. She starved herself all the time, so she’d be unable to fight back. Weak, she had no strength. Not like him.

Wait, that wouldn’t do. If he was behind her, he couldn’t see her eyes bulge and then go dead. Forget the drink. He’d untie the strings and make her think he wanted sex on the deck. Maybe he’d have her one last time before squeezing the breath from her and cracking her spine.

He’d always wanted to snap a spine. Had always been curious if you could really hear the pop like the sound effects they used in the movies and on television. Would it be as easy? Did it require practice? It wouldn’t hurt to practice. Maybe he’d get a chance once or twice before the sailing excursion.

“What are you smiling at?”

Her whispered shout drug him back to reality.

“You, darling.” He deliberately smiled bigger at her. If it irritated her, he just had to continue.

“There’s nothing to smile about,” she droned on. “It’s obvious she’s hired help. I have no idea where she got any money. Probably from that drug-dealer boyfriend of hers.”

So they were still discussing how Brian Sloane could be sitting at the Aubrey Diner counter and not lying on the ground under Tory. He’d almost hated to pull the trigger and end that scene. She’d been clawing at him and he hadn’t punched her once. The sheer strength in the man’s hands was admirable. And deadly. A true killer in the making.
Or breaking.

He’d never noticed that about Brian before. And the new haircut... Why had he shorn his head?

“You know there’s another possibility of how Brian could be in two places at the same time.” Why hadn’t he reasoned it out before?

“What are you blathering about?” She crossed her arms under her tiny breasts.

Tory had a terrific stack up top.
Had. Past tense.
“John. He’s back. He probably returned the day your private detective took the picture. Think about it. We’ve waited weeks for Alicia to do something with Brian. But remember, love, she was always
John’s
girlfriend.”

“Oh, my God. That explains everything. We have to call the police.” She made a beeline to the phone.

“There’s no rush, honey. You can have an epiphany during your interview tomorrow.”

They’d already been contacted by the local news stations. Shauna had given her cell number to all of them. She’d answered the questions during their initial conversation with the county sheriff, which had frustrated the man to no end. It was definitely laughable.

Playing the silent incompetent had quickly grown tiring. But he’d sat there, letting Shauna do all the talking. Seeming in control. It wouldn’t be long now. Just a matter of days and he could stop acting. They’d sell the rest of the Adams property, have the cash in the bank, control of the kid’s trust fund, and all the ties to his small-town past working in stalls ankle deep in horse manure would be broken.

“What if they snatch Lauren back? Or decide to kill us in our sleep?”

“That’s being slightly dramatic, dear. If Sloane—no matter which one—wanted to kill us, I imagine he could have accomplished that easily tonight. I’m sure both of them have had enough practice with a gun not to miss. And whoever was there had every opportunity. The man restrained himself from hitting Tory when they were squirming on the ground together.” He remembered the power of pulling the trigger and watching the blood spread across her blond hair. The ground had darkened as it pooled beneath the yellow halo.

Knowing that he’d been in control of Tory’s life excited him. His only regret was not moving closer. Had she known she was dying? Or was shooting her in the head as instantaneous as they claimed?

Then again, the surprise on Sloane’s face had been priceless. That was where he’d really been watching. If it had been John, why was he so affected by the measly death of a day-care worker? Hadn’t he seen death hundreds of times over while in the military?

Shauna was wringing her hands again and reaching for the phone. “They could find that girl’s boyfriend and force him to admit that we hired him. He’s still missing, you know.”

He wrapped her skinny fingers within his fists. “I couldn’t take care of him tonight. John or Brian—whoever was helping Alicia—was fighting him when I walked out with the money.” He kissed her fingertips instead of squeezing to demand she stop. “I’m sure Tory’s boyfriend is getting as far away from Aubrey, Texas, as possible. And if not, I can convince him to work for us a bit longer.”

“Why didn’t you take care of them all? You said you would. That was the plan. You said it wouldn’t be a problem for you to shoot them and make it look like self-defense.”

God, she was tiresome. “Shauna, neither of us could predict that Alicia would find the kid. I still don’t know how they did.”

“They probably followed you, you fool.” She jerked her fingers from his and circled the room where not four hours ago they’d gone over the plan while having a glass of wine to soothe her nerves.

“Why don’t you have another drink before we head to bed, sweetheart?” He poured another scotch, hating to part with any drop of it, but knowing she’d pass out sooner if he did. “You’ll have to look your best for the local talk shows tomorrow. Remember, darling, you’re a hero.”

Before handing her the drink, he faked a passionate kiss, pretending it was Tory pressed against him. She sipped and he let his hands caress her skin, drawing his thumbs across her protruding collarbone.

It would be so easy to be rid of his annoying problem.

All he’d have to do was squeeze.