Authors: Mallory Kane
She swallowed audibly and drew in a long breath.
Harte waited, wondering what she was going to say, because he had no idea what he should do.
“I—guess I forgot something,” she said hoarsely.
Harte felt his face burn. He let go of a huge breath that he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Yeah,” he said, his gaze flickering toward the panties, then back to meet hers. “Yeah.”
After a long moment, he cleared his throat. “Let me see your wrist. I need to make sure it’s not broken.”
“Okay,” she said meekly.
He realized he was still holding the flashlight, so he set it down on the counter. It was on the soft-light setting and he aimed it toward the wall, hoping the light and its reflection would help him see. Swallowing hard, fighting for control over his libido, he bent down next to her and gently took her forearm in his hands and examined it closely.
While he studied her wrist, Dani took the opportunity to study him. With his head down, his profile was lit by the faint light of the flashlight. He was undeniably good-looking. She already knew that. But she hadn’t realized just how classic his features were. His nose was long and straight, his mouth was firm, his jawline was chiseled. And those eyes—she could actually see the shadow of his lashes on his cheek.
“How’d you hit it?” he asked as he used her flashlight to inspect the wrist bone.
“Hmm?” Was it fair for one man to be so beautiful from so many different angles?
“Dani?”
She blinked. What had he said? “What?”
“Are you sure you’re all right? You didn’t hit your head, did you?”
“No, I didn’t hit my head. I think my wrist hit the edge of the counter when I tripped. And it was already sore from when I jumped up onto the porch.”
He nodded. “It’s a little red, but I don’t see any swelling or discoloration.”
His touch was so gentle, his voice so kind that it made her want to cry—because apparently, she was going to cry about
everything
from now on. And once they managed to get away from these men who seemed determined to kill them, she could tell she was in for a long jag.
With a quick shake of her head, she bit down on her cheek and blinked away the stinging behind her eyelids.
“Does it hurt when I move it?” he asked, manipulating it tenderly.
“No,” she said. “It really doesn’t hurt any more or any less. It just aches.”
“It’s probably strained. Try getting up. See if you can put weight on it.”
She stood without a problem. “It’s fine,” she said, but when she looked up at him, she found that he’d stepped close, ready to catch her if she faltered.
“Are you sure—?” He stopped talking when their gazes met. His mouth was less than an inch from hers. She looked at his lips, then back up into his eyes. His gaze was dark, his eyes smoky. “Dani—” he started.
At that instant, the front windows rattled and something crashed into the door. Dani screamed just as Harte caught her in his arms and dove to the floor.
Chapter Twelve
A roar like a freight train filled the air, and the windows rattled more loudly. Dani lay shielded by Harte’s strong body. His hands covered her head protectively, and his cheek rested against hers. His long, rock-solid thighs were splayed across hers, his hard, heavy arousal pressing against her belly.
The wind roared and whistled, slinging trash and shingles and tree branches against buildings. She lay there, shielded by his body, as the tornado—because she knew without a doubt that it was a tornado—passed over them. Finally, the deafening noise died down.
Harte wasted no time pushing himself off her, and she knew why. She’d felt his arousal. Her cheeks grew warm. No matter how he felt about her, she knew he did desire her. He just didn’t want to.
“That was bad,” she whispered.
“Stay still,” he said. Without looking at her, he rose and looked out the windows. He whistled under his breath. “Lots of damage,” he said. “I see a couple of bicycle tires, twisted spokes.” He craned his neck. “I think that big crash was a screen door hitting the windows. There’s a huge crack in the window on the left. I’d expect the bulletproof glass to stay intact, but I’m amazed that all the windows didn’t shatter.”
“That was a tornado,” she said, wishing she could stop imagining deadly funnel clouds roaring toward them, sucking up everything in their paths. When the wind had been at its worst, it had sounded like a freight train.
He yawned exaggeratedly, popping his ears. “I think so. It’s so quiet it feels weird.”
“I don’t hear any sirens.”
Harte shook his head. “With this much debris and damage everywhere, the city will be focusing all its manpower toward clearing major thoroughfares and routes to hospitals for emergency vehicles.”
“At least we’re all right.”
He nodded as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and checked it. “Hey! I’ve got bars!” he exclaimed. “Two bars.”
Dani’s heart leaped into her throat. “Call 911!” she exclaimed.
He paused in the act of pressing a button. “They can’t get to us. They probably can’t keep up with the injuries in the busier parts of the city. I’m calling Lucas.” He pressed a button and listened. “Oh, come on,” he muttered. Then his eyes lit up. “I’m getting through.”
Dani’s eyes stung. Finally, this awful nightmare would be over.
“Lucas!” Harte yelled. “Lucas, can you hear me?” He stepped out from behind the counter and moved toward the front of the store, checking the signal every few steps.
“Yeah, it’s Harte. I know, the connection does suck, but listen...” He paused. “Lucas? You still there?” Then he walked the line of the windows, from one side of the store to the other.
Dani held her breath, as if that would help hold together the fragile connection.
“Damn it, don’t fade on me now,” Harte said, then spoke loudly and distinctly. “Lucas, we’re at Delaughter’s Drugs, near Religious. Repeat—Delaughter’s Drugs. Pursued by armed men. Repeat—armed men.” He listened for a few seconds. “Lucas?” Then he threw his head back and growled.
“Do you think he heard you?” Dani asked.
Harte was frowning at his phone. “I don’t know.”
Dani fished down into her purse, her fingers brushing the cold steel of the SIG as she searched for her phone. She knew she needed to tell Harte about the gun, but she’d waited too long. She had no doubt how he’d react, and she dreaded the prosecutorial lecture she’d have to endure when he found out she’d been packing this whole time. She found her phone and pulled it out. It showed one bar. “Let’s send a text.” If the phone managed to get the text sent, then Lucas would at least see it once service was restored.
Harte nodded. “I’ll send it to Lucas and Ethan.” He quickly entered a message.
In Delaughter’s Drugs near B & B, hiding from armed men. Send help!
He pressed Send and pocketed his phone. “Give me yours. I’ll send the same text. That’ll be two service providers—two chances for it to get through.”
Another loud rattling of the windows announced the wind picking up again. Harte grabbed Dani and pulled her down behind the counter. “We need to be careful. One of these gusts of wind is likely to throw something hard enough at those windows to break them.”
They sat together, shoulder to shoulder. Dani closed her eyes, basking in the heat Harte’s body gave off and trying to pretend that she didn’t want him to pull her close and make hot, sweet love to her. But as much as she wanted him deep inside her, she craved his warmth and strength surrounding her even more. When he held her in his arms, she felt as if nothing could harm her.
“Harte? Where do you think they are—the men?”
She felt his shoulders rise and fall. “No telling. I tried to keep up with which direction and how far we ran from the warehouse. I think we made it about ten blocks. That’s a big circle they’ve got to search.”
“And you’re sure they were sent by Yeoman?”
“Don’t know who else it would be. Like I said before, I think Stamps would have more sense. Yeoman, on the other hand, deals in physical force. It’s what he knows.”
“It doesn’t make any sense. Why would he think killing me would solve his problem?”
Harte assessed her. “You’re the only person who can connect him with your grandfather’s murder. In his world, shooting you is the easiest way to get rid of you. It’s incredibly hard to prove somebody shot somebody without an eyewitness.”
She shivered and Harte immediately put his arm around her.
“Cold?”
His heat soaked into her, making her feel aroused and languid at the same time. “A little,” she said, “but mostly, I can’t shake the feeling that they’re right behind me, breathing down my neck.” She shivered again. “Should we be doing something—getting farther away maybe?”
Harte didn’t speak for a moment. He ran his palm up and down her arm. “I wondered about that. If Lucas or Ethan gets my message, they’ll come here.” He settled back against the wall and tightened his hold on her. “Look at it from those goons’ point of view. They’re looking for a needle in a haystack. And that car can’t be drivable after they rammed it into that freight door three times.”
“So they’re on foot, just like us. I guess that’s a good thing.”
“And like I said, they’ve got an awfully big area to search, and they have to search every building on each and every street.”
“They know which door we went out.”
“Yeah, but we made at least two right turns. We couldn’t see anything, which means they couldn’t either. If they’d been able to see us, they’d have shot at us.”
The wind rose again, whistling around corners and roaring past the broken door. “Here we go again,” he said. Rain pelted the glass windows, flung there by the whipping winds.
“Those windows are going to break eventually,” she said.
“They might,” he agreed, “but that’s why I put us here in the cashier’s cage. It’s metal, bolted down and we’ve got bulletproof glass protecting us.” He gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.
“Okay,” she said, not sounding convinced.
“Hey,” Harte said. “Trust me.”
She snuggled in closer to his side. Harte held her and listened to the storm. He could feel the tension in her stiff limbs, her fingers that were curved into a fist against his skin, her shaky breaths.
Lightning flashed almost continuously and the roar of the thunder and wind was near deafening. Above their heads, a vicious screech overrode the sound of the storm.
Dani jumped. Harte cupped the back of her head and pressed it to his chest, resting his cheek against her hair. “It’s okay,” he murmured, although he doubted she could hear him. “It’s going to be okay.”
He risked a glance upward, fully expecting to see that part of the roof had blown off, taking the ceiling with it. The screeching had sounded like nails being ripped out. But the ceiling appeared intact. With all the rain and wind, they’d know soon enough if the roof was damaged.
Then, as quickly as it had started, the roaring stopped. The lightning was no longer continuous and the thunder seemed farther away.
Dani didn’t relax a bit. Now that things had calmed down, he could feel her trembling.
“Listen,” he said. “I think the worst is over.” He took his hand away from the back of her head and touched her chin. “Look at me, Dani.”
Slowly, haltingly, she raised her head. “I—I’m sorry,” she muttered.
“For what? For being scared? I was scared too.”
She shuddered. “Not like me.” She sighed. “My father died more than twenty years ago and I’m still acting like a child.”
After a long time, she lifted her head. Harte looked down at her. “You okay?” he whispered, giving her a little smile.
She nodded, then dropped her gaze to his mouth. “Harte—?”
He looked at her parted lips, her soft whiskey-colored eyes.
“Dani,” he said, “I don’t think—”
“Don’t think,” Dani whispered, and brushed his lips with hers. She meant that admonition for herself as well as him. He’d held her and sheltered her. He’d protected her from the storm.
Sighing, she kissed him again. This time she touched his mouth with the tip of her tongue.
She wasn’t thinking about what would happen once they were safe. Right now she wanted him with an ache that had been growing ever since he’d kissed her that first time.
He didn’t move a muscle.
She withdrew and turned away, pressing her knuckles against her teeth. A short unamused laugh escaped her throat. “Sorry,” she said tightly. “It takes me a while, but eventually I get the picture.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head.
She cleared her throat. “I apologize. I guarantee it won’t happen ag—”
He pulled her back to him. His mouth came down on hers hard, his tongue parting her lips.
Dani gasped as he deepened the kiss. The ache inside her turned to a tingling thrill that surged through her like a lightning bolt.
He moaned deep in his throat and lifted her onto his lap. The only thing between them was two layers of thin cotton.
“Still think I don’t want you?” Harte muttered against her lips as he pushed his fingers through her damp hair and kissed her again, more fiercely than before. “Don’t ever make that mistake again.”
Any doubt she might have had disappeared into a silver haze of desire. His arousal pressed insistently against her, stirring her blood to a fever pitch as he slid his hands under the T-shirt and pushed it up. She raised her arms so he could pull it over her head.
His hands moved on her skin, trailing sparks like a wizard everywhere they touched. Her waist, her rib cage, the soft skin beneath her breasts. Finally, with exquisite slowness, he trailed his fingertips over the swell of her breasts until she arched, pressing them into his hands.
He skimmed his thumbs across her nipples. They puckered immediately and throbbed, they were so sensitive.
His kisses were sweet and erotic at the same time. One instant his tongue sparred with hers in a sensual dance that almost sent her over the edge. The next, he withdrew, only to return and plant light, unbearably sweet butterfly kisses onto every square millimeter of her mouth, cheeks and eyelids.
Just as she thought she couldn’t feel any more turned on, he bent his head and took a nipple into his mouth. He teased it with his tongue, then grazed it lightly with his teeth. A tight, choked scream erupted from her throat. Every touch sent electric shocks across her nerve endings from her fingers to her toes to her very core. He licked the tiny nub until it was wet, then lightly blew on it until Dani thought she would scream with pleasure. Then he turned to lavish the same attention on the other breast.