Forbidden Territory Page 8

  She peered through the water sheeting on her windshield, trying to see the road. The maneuver that sent her spinning had been a risky move for the other car. Had it met its own fate on the opposite side of the road?

  She leaned over and opened the glove compartment, scrabbling through the contents until she found the cell phone adapter. She’d feel safer once she got the 911 operator back on the phone.

  But when she finally located her cell phone on the floorboard on the passenger side, its plastic skin lay cracked and askew, wires spilling out through the opening.

  Thank God she’d already called for help before the phone went dead. But it would take time for anyone to find her on the long stretch of winding road. And if her attacker hadn’t spun out the way she had—

  Light suddenly slanted across her windshield, splintered into glittering facets by the driving rain. She peered through the downpour, her heart in her throat.

  Two powerful beams sliced through the gloom at the top of the embankment. They were steady and stationary.

  Whoever it was had parked on the shoulder.

  Panic zigzagged through her belly. What should she do? Stay put? Try to get out and hide in the woods?

  She couldn’t risk the former; she might as well be a rat in a cage, waiting to be fed to a snake. Her shoes weren’t made for trekking through the forest, but she didn’t have to survive out there for long. She just had to hope help arrived before her assailant found her.

  Opening her door was harder than she’d expected; the car had sunk into the mud, leaving precious little room to maneuver.

  She squeezed through the opening, grabbing her raincoat as she stumbled through the sucking mud. She lost a shoe right off and had to waste time retrieving it, crouching low in hopes that the occupant of the car above hadn’t spotted her yet in the foggy darkness.

  She took off the other shoe and squished across the soggy ground until she was well hidden in the trees. Flattening herself against the rough bark of a towering pine, she peeked back up at the roadway.

  A dark figure stood at the edge, his large body backlit by the high beams. He seemed to be gazing down toward her car, his hands curled into fists. Then he began loping down the embankment, taking little care as he slipped and slid on the slick grass.

  She could make out only his shadow now, large and looming, so close that she could hear the ragged hiss of his breathing. Terror coiled like a viper in the pit of her belly, spreading poison until her body froze with fear.

  When he jerked the driver’s door open, the glow of her dome light rimmed his profile, revealing the familiar set of a square jaw and tension lines carved on either side of his mouth.

  Her knees buckling with relief, Lily dug her fingers into the pine bark to keep from sliding to the ground. A soft whimper escaped her throat as a splinter dug into her palm. “McBride.”

  He whirled around, peering into the woods. “Lily?”

  She willed her legs to hold her upright for the few uneven steps it took to reach the clearing where McBride stood. She couldn’t see his expression, now that the light was at his back again, but she heard his soft exhalation, saw his shoulders sag for a second before he closed the distance between them in two long strides and gathered her into his arms.

  She wrapped hers around his neck as he lifted her out of the wet grass and into his tight embrace. His pulse hammered against her breast, keeping pace with her own racing heart.

  “Are you hurt?” He started to release her, but she tightened her grip around his neck, shaking her head. He lifted one hand to tangle in her hair, brushing the rain-drenched mass away from her face.

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “I’m going to be a little sore, I think. But nothing permanent.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at her battered car, then back at her. Now that her eyes were adjusting to the darkness, she could see the angry set of his jaw and the glitter of leashed violence in his eyes. “Who did this? Did you get a look at him?”

  She tried to gather her wits, though the combination of delayed reaction and McBride’s hard body pressed against hers made coherent thought difficult. “It was a dark four-door sedan with tinted windows. I couldn’t see the driver at all.”

  He uttered a terse profanity. “I saw it happening—I was about a quarter mile back when he started ramming you. But I couldn’t catch up in time.”

  “That was you?” The lights in her rearview mirror. The ones that had given her hope for a brief moment. She pressed her forehead against his throat, her fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders as she realized just how easily her fate could have gone the other way.

  “Did you see what happened to the other car?”

  “All I saw was his taillights ahead. He must have spotted me coming, and gunned it. When I saw the skid marks on the grassy shoulder here, I stopped to see if you were hurt.” He ran his thumb down her cheek, letting it settle at the edge of her lower lip. His voice softened. “You’re trembling.”

  She was. And as much as she’d like to attribute it to shock, the main thing sending shivers down her spine was McBride’s body pressed hard and hot against hers.

  His gaze dipped to her parted lips, his breath quickening. She could see the struggle on his face, the need to resist. The sharp edges of her own doubts nicked her conscience even as she lifted her chin and met his mouth halfway.

  Fire raced through her veins, surprising her with its wild intensity. McBride’s arm tightened around her back, pulling her closer. His other hand tangled in her wet hair, curling into a fist until she was ensnared in his grasp.

  He took his time with the kiss, giving and demanding in equal parts, stoking the flames in her belly. His tongue brushed over her lower lip, tasting her. Teasing her.

  A low moan of pleasure rumbled up her throat. He tightened his arms around her in response, lifting her off her feet. One hand slid down her back, settling low, pressing her hips firmly against the hard ridge of his erection. Heat flooded her, settling at her center, warming her from the inside out.

  He lifted his mouth away only long enough to blaze a trail across her jawline and down the side of her throat, nipping and kissing a path across her collarbone. She melted against him, a shimmering onslaught of need flooding her veins.

  At the first faint sound of sirens in the distance, she tightened her hold on his shoulders, not ready to let him go. But he broke the contact, gently setting her back on her feet and taking a step away, breathing hard and fast. His gaze locked with hers, wary and oddly vulnerable, as the sound of sirens grew, piercing the drumbeat of rain.

  After an endless moment, he held out his hand. “Think you can make it back to the road if I help you?”

  Nodding, she grasped it, wondering if he could feel the tremors still fluttering through her from the kiss.

  His big palm enclosed hers. “Need anything from the car?”

  “My purse.”

  He let go long enough to retrieve the bag, and handed it to her. Then he took her hand again and helped her up the steep incline.

  As they reached the road, a police car and an EMT unit were pulling up behind McBride’s idling car. The two medics immediately took charge, separating her from McBride and helping her onto a stretcher in the back of the truck while they looked her over for any possible injuries. She leaned forward to peer around them, not ready to let McBride out of her sight.

  He stood a few feet away, bathed in a wide shaft of golden light pouring from the EMT vehicle. He met her gaze with a reassuring smile before moving away to talk to the uniformed officers waiting by his car.

  She sank back on the stretcher and closed her eyes, her mouth still tingling from McBride’s kiss.

  MCBRIDE’S WATCH READ four-fifteen when he woke in the predawn gloom of Lily Browning’s living room. Her sofa was built for a woman, sturdy enough but small. Cozy. Definitely not the ideal bed for a man of his size.

  The EMTs had reassured him that the purple marks from the sea
t belt were superficial. Lily had been a little shocky, but a hot shower, dry clothes and extra blankets on her bed had fixed that.

  She’d fallen asleep in his car on the way home and had roused only long enough to shower and crawl into bed. When he’d checked on her a little after nine, she’d been fast asleep.

  Rubbing the ache in his neck, McBride let his eyes adjust to the pale glow of light from a streetlamp seeping through the thin curtains on Lily’s front windows. He stretched his legs out in front of him, trying to find a more comfortable position.

  He shouldn’t have stayed. A police car was parked outside, manned by two perfectly capable officers. Hanging around all night was overkill.

  Not to mention dangerous.

  He’d kissed her. Not a gentle, comforting peck on the cheek to reassure her that she was safe, either. No, he’d gone for long, wet and greedy.

  Worse still, she’d tasted just as he’d expected—sweet with a tangy edge, like wild honey. The curves and planes of her body had fit perfectly against his, soft and hot despite the cold rain drenching them both.

  How had he let this happen? Even now he felt the tug of her calling to him, just beyond the closed door at the end of the hall. If he went to her bed, would she turn him away?

  He rubbed the heels of his palms against his bleary eyes. He was insane. She was a suspect, for God’s sake! The attack on her tonight didn’t change the fact that she had information only the kidnappers and cops should have. How did she know what Abby had been wearing the day she disappeared?

  Maybe she really did see Abby in her mind, a treacherous voice inside him whispered.

  No. He knew better than that. He’d learned that lesson the hard way. But could the trembling woman who’d returned his kiss with a sweet passion that made his head spin really be involved with murder and kidnapping?

  He sat forward, burying his head in his hands. The idea seemed almost as insane as the alternative.

  But those didn’t have to be the only choices, did they?

  Maybe the truth lay somewhere in between.

  LILY CURLED UP IN BED with her cats, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Though sleep had done wonders for her, she felt sore all over from her nerve-wracking ordeal. And below the twinges and aches lay a relentless hum of awareness, a disturbing reminder of how her world had tilted upside down again with one shattering kiss.

  Why in the world had she let herself lose control that way? She couldn’t trust McBride; he still thought she was involved in Abby Walters’s kidnapping. Lily had seen it in his eyes the day before in Andrew’s hotel suite. And even if his doubts hadn’t built an impenetrable wall between them, the man himself posed a grave danger to her heart.

  The more she learned about the detective, the less she knew. He was a man steeped in secrets. Terrible ones, if the darkness she’d felt from him that night in her kitchen meant anything. What if being around him opened her mind to whatever horrors lurked within him? Could she bear it?

  She shivered, cold despite the blankets piled atop her. Delilah nestled closer, a hot little knot against her side, but the shivers grew stronger. The darkness of the bedroom had already begun changing color and texture before Lily realized that she was having another vision.

  She opened the door in her mind, both eager and afraid to see what lay beyond. As she pushed forward through the thick fog, she felt a warning pain behind her eyes and forced herself to let the vision flow around her, carrying her at its own pace.

  Eventually the mists cleared to reveal Abby Walters lying on the lumpy bed where Lily had found her in her last vision. The child slept fitfully, her pale eyelids twitching with a dream. She looked cleaner than before. Lily took a deep breath through her nose and smelled soap.

  Somebody had given Abby a bath, she thought with faint relief. Maybe that meant they were trying to take care of her.

  Unless…

  A darker thought forced her mind to a horrible place. Abby, naked and vulnerable in the hands of the man—men?—who had brutally killed her mother. Nausea rose in Lily’s throat, making her eyes sting with acrid tears.

  “What did they do to you, baby?” She stroked Abby’s cheek, her fingers tracing damp tear tracks.

  “It’s okay,” a child’s voice whispered, very close.

  Lily whirled around.

  The dark-haired girl from her earlier vision stood behind her, clad in yellow-striped pajamas a size too small for her. She clutched a ragged stuffed toy against her chest, something round and tattered, its furry green body worn and thin.

  She smiled tentatively at Lily. “I watched her for you.”

  Chapter Eight

  Lily felt as if she’d gone mad. “You watched her?”

  The little girl nodded. “I know you can’t always be here, so I check on her sometimes to make sure she’s okay.”

  Lily’s mind reeled, threatening to suck her back to reality. She forced herself to stay calm, let the vision hold her in its gossamer web. “Who are you?”

  “Mama calls me Gina, but I don’t think that’s my name. She’s not really my mama, you know. My real mama’s dead.”

  Lily noticed the little girl was almost transparent, unlike Abby. She wasn’t actually in the same room, Lily realized. She was somewhere else.

  But where?

  “I can’t stay much longer.” The girl began to fade.

  Lily reached out, wondering if she could touch her. “Wait, Gina! Are you sure Abby’s okay?”

  The girl’s image rippled. “Yes.”

  Before Lily could move, the dark-haired girl was gone.

  Lily slowly turned back to Abby. The child’s eyelids had stopped fluttering and her soft, snuffling breath was even and deep. Relief trickled through Lily as she watched the child’s peaceful slumber, until the fog began to swirl around her, drawing her back to the doorway.

  She reached out to stroke Abby’s cheek again before the door in her mind closed, hiding the child from her sight.

  Emerging from the fog, Lily sat upright in the bed, hugging herself with trembling arms. The face of the dark-haired child remained etched in her mind, pale, heart-shaped, and so, so sad.

  She shivered. Who was this solemn little girl?

  BLUE MOONLIGHT BATHED the bedroom. The little girl blinked as she emerged from the haze to find herself huddled in bed.

  She looked around quickly, just to reassure herself that she was back in her own room. She clutched Mr. Green more tightly to her, rubbing her cheek against his thread-bare fur. Straining her ears, she listened for Mama. But the house was silent.

  She pulled the covers more tightly around herself and stared at the cracked ceiling. She knew something was wrong with her mother. In her little-girl wisdom, she also knew Mama’s trouble had something to do with her.

  Mama called her Gina, but that wasn’t her name. She was Casey. She had vague memories of someone calling her name. “Casey, baby, come here.” The voice was deep. A man’s voice. She liked the way it sounded, a little gruff but tender.

  She knew the voice belonged to her daddy, but she barely remembered him. Only Mama, for just about as long as she recalled. The fuzzy memories that came at night, memories of being held in Daddy’s strong arms, were little more than dreams.

  Sweet dreams.

  Nestled under the covers, Casey felt sleep creeping up on her. She closed her eyes, picturing Lily, the nice lady who was taking care of Abby. Casey smiled in the dark.

  That smile carried her softly into sleep.

  LILY OVERSLEPT, waking with bright morning sunlight slanting through her bedroom window. The digital alarm clock read seven twenty-five. She was going to be late for work.

  She sat up quickly, gasping as pain rocketed through her entire body before settling in a hot ache in the back of her neck. Okay, work was out.

  She reached for her phone and called Carmen Herrera’s office number. “Carmen, it’s Lily. I’m so sorry, I overslept and I haven’t even had a chance—”

  “Li
ly, thank God you’re okay!” Carmen interrupted. “Lieutenant McBride called me this morning to let me know about the accident so I could arrange for a substitute for your classes. He said you were a little banged up.”

  Lily glanced at her reflection in the dresser mirror. Shadows circled her eyes, almost as dark as the vivid bruises slanting across her shoulder and chest where the shoulder belt had left its mark. “I’m a little bruised and sore, but I should be fine by Monday. Thanks for getting someone to fill in.”

  She hung up the phone and eased her sore legs over the edge of the bed. Jezebel glided in from the hall and wrapped herself around Lily’s ankles, meowing.

  “I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you, Jezzy?” She put on a bathrobe and hobbled down the hall to the kitchen, wondering if McBride had already left for the office.

  But he was waiting in her kitchen, the morning paper spread out in front of him, a mug of steaming coffee sitting to one side. He looked up when she entered. “The nice cat has been fed. The psycho one refused to eat anything I gave her.”

  Lily glanced at the four open cans of cat food on the counter, her lips curving with amusement.

  She picked up the tuna, Jezebel’s favorite, and emptied it in one of the cat bowls. Jezebel went straight to it and started eating.

  “Spoiled brat,” McBride murmured.

  “Thank you for calling in for me.” Lily poured herself a cup of coffee and joined McBride at the table before taking a sip. Strong and hot, the coffee burned going down, making her eyes water.

  “I figured you’d be too sore from the accident to deal with a bunch of eight-year-olds.” His gaze dropped to her throat. “Do those bruises hurt much?”

  “Not too much.” She lifted a hand to her neck. He was being too nice to her. It made her feel self-conscious.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I found your sisters’ phone number in your address book and called to let them know you’d been in an accident. I talked to the one named Rose.”