The Commitment (17 page)

Lucy wrung her hands. She glanced from Jack to Miranda to the evidence of her planned flight waiting patiently by the door.

Hoping to distract Jack again, Miranda swayed. She put a hand to her head. "I'm not feeling very well," she murmured.

Instead of getting Lucy out of range of the gun, Miranda's ploy brought her sister to her side. Jack now had both of them within his sights.

"Never mind that," Jack growled. "Hand me the diskette. I'm disappointed that you chose to spy on me, Lucy."

Miranda reached into her pocket. It seemed for a second that life and death, her own and her future's, hung in the balance. She hesitated. Jack cocked the hammer. She noted the sheen of perspiration on his forehead and hoped his finger didn't squeeze the trigger prematurely.

The cool square of plastic that held enough evidence to convict Jack touched her fingers. She slid it from her pocket.

"Is this what you're willing to kill for?" she asked.

He didn't answer, just reached out his hand.

Now or never. She flung the diskette with a quick flick of her wrist. "Catch," she shouted.

"Bitch," Jack screamed. As he reached for the diskette, the gun fired.

Miranda saw the plastic square hit him in the head as Lucy flung herself between Miranda and the bullet.

"Lucy." Miranda caught her sister as she fell. A bright patch of crimson stained Lucy's sleeve.

Savage anger roared through Miranda. With all the strength and training at her command, she launched a reverse roundhouse kick to Jack's head. He hit the floor like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

The red rage cleared from her eyes. She looked up to see Drake standing beside Jack's crumpled form. A mixture of bemusement fought with fear in the way his eyes glittered and his hands made fists then relaxed.

He stared at her. His express was unreadable. Why was he here? She blinked back tears, more happy than she could say that he was here.

Lucy's groan sliced through the silence. Miranda hurried to her. "Call an ambulance," she said to Drake. With a negligent glance at the fallen Jack, "And the police."

The next few hours were divided between the hospital and the police station. Lucy's wound was minor. Her emotional injuries would take longer to heal. After a long bedside talk with her, Miranda was sure she'd make a complete recovery on both fronts.

Night had become morning and then moved to late afternoon by the time Miranda and Drake were done at the police station and hospital. They stepped into the waning light of the day and breathed deeply. After hours cooped up with doctors and detectives the frigid air refreshed Miranda's tired body. For the first time in hours she relaxed.

She stiffened as Drake spoke. "I'm starved. Come on, I need to cook something. Alice will have returned Pumpkin by now."

She searched for some emotion on his face. As usual his handsome façade hid his feelings. She'd hoped he would have learned to let his guard down with her by now. It hadn't happened. After all they had been through together with the technology theft and the heartache of the truth Lucy had told, after all that Drake still didn't trust her.

She wanted to weep in defeat.

Instead she followed him to his car. He drove back to Lucy's apartment where Miranda's car was parked. She followed him home. His home, she reminded herself. Not hers, not really.

Her fatigue as so great that Pumpkin almost knocked her over with his joyous greeting.

"Down," Drake ordered. The dog whined and groveled and wriggled with delighted restraint.

Miranda rubbed Pumpkin's belly, grateful for an excuse to avert her gaze from Drake. She didn't want him to see the tears that threatened. When she stood she had her emotions under control.

She steeled herself to face him. "I'm taking my clothes and Pumpkin and going home."

The trace of a smile that had softened Drake's mouth vanished. His stare was like trying to look through a window that had been barred and shuttered.

This was harder than she thought it would be. She forced the rest of the words out. "I'll be taking a leave of absence starting tomorrow and driving down to Mexico for a divorce."

Had she imagined it or had Drake's shoulders slumped a fraction? No, it must have been the light. His continued silence unnerved her.

She moved to go around him to the stairs. He shifted. She tried again. Again, he blocked her path.

"Your thirty days aren't up," he said through tight lips. "I thought you'd honor this commitment."

"You got what you wanted, answers to who was stealing from you. I fulfilled my commitment." Her voice had a honed edge to it.

"There's the second half of the agreement."
A wave of physical and emotional exhaustion swept over Miranda. She melted to the floor followed by Pumpkin. Drake loomed over her. She didn't care. She was too tired to care about what her thought of her right now.

"I'll take a pregnancy test before I go through with the divorce. Will that satisfy you?"

"It's too soon to be sure."

"Maybe. I'm not certain. Besides, it was only one time."

Like the sun coming out from behind a storm cloud, Drake grinned. Miranda's heart did a slow somersault.

"One night, you mean," Drake said. "More than one time as I recall."

No response was adequate. Tendrils of all that night had encompassed threaded through her mind. She suppressed a sob into Pumpkin's soft fur. "What do you suggest?" she mumbled.

"Oh, a pregnancy test sounds good. I'll take a leave of absence and drive down with you. Mexico is just what I need this time of year."

"Swell." Her word hit his retreating back. She watched him until he disappeared around a corner. The sounds of pots and pans clanking away came from the kitchen. He was whistling.

Miranda sighed. This wasn't going the way she had planned. "Come on, Pumpkin. Let's go pack." Pumpkin stood with her, but when she started up the stairs he hung back. His head swung from her to where Drake had gone. His doggy loyalties were divided.

Miranda knelt next to him. "I know just how you feel. Come on."

With one more wistful glance toward the kitchen, Pumpkin ambled up the stairs behind her.

Chapter Nineteen

Whose dumb idea had it been to drive to Mexico? They were stuck in northern New Mexico waiting for road crews to clear the highway after a late winter storm.

He looked across the café table at Miranda. A shaft of clear winter sunlight caught her cheek as she turned her face to the window. For an instant the glow burnished her skin with a cool beauty that took his breath away. The sun scuttled behind another swiftly moving cloud, but Miranda's face maintained the glow.

He loved that glow. He loved Miranda. It had happened without even trying. From the moment she'd tried to drunkenly seduce him to this moment on their way to a quick divorce for a non-marriage, he'd learned to trust her. Trust and growing respect had turned into love. How could he let her go?

He rubbed his forehead. Sometime before they reached their destination he had to tell her that they weren't really married. That would make her mad as hell.

He needed a drink.

"More coffee?" the waitress asked.

Startled, Drake knocked his mug flying. "Sorry." He fumbled after it as it skittered between the waitress's legs and toward the counter.

He was so intent on recovering the mug that he didn't notice all eyes were on him until he returned to the table. Miranda had a hand over her mouth. Her eyes twinkled as he took his seat.

"What?" he asked. A shift caught his eye. He glanced around. As he did, talk picked up where there had been silence. The diners returned to their meals.

Miranda giggled. "That reminded me of Toga Boy."

Drake stared at her. Maybe the stress was too much for her. Clearly she wasn't thinking straight. He decided to play along. "Toga who?"

"At the hotel," she flushed and looked away. "In Las Vegas. The room service waiter wore a toga. Don't you remember?"

"Yes." His voice sounded hoarse. He had to tell her. Taking her hand, he started, "Miranda, there's something you need to know."

She turned an unusual shade of green, held her hand to her mouth, and bolted for the ladies restroom.

"I wasn't going to say anything bad," he said to the waitress who stopped by with the ever-present coffeepot.

"Would you like me to go check on her for you?" She smiled at him.

"This is like a bad dream," he muttered. To the waitress, "Let's give her a minute or two. I don't want to embarrass her."

"No problem. You know, nausea goes away after the third month."

"What?"

"Your wife, she's pregnant, isn't she?" The woman left Drake for another caffeine-starved customer.

Drake stared after her. Could Miranda be pregnant? It hadn't been thirty days since they'd made love. Maybe a couple of weeks. He started counting back in his head then gave it up. Remembering the box he'd picked up at a pharmacy before leaving Colorado Springs, he grinned. It was part of the deal.

Mexico, here we come.

Pale and shaky, Miranda returned to the table. She sipped her water and blessed the fact that the dirty plates had been removed. For some reason the scent of leftover tuna patty melt had turned her stomach.

Drake was looking at her funny again. In that possessive, hungry way that made her stomach flip-flop. It had nothing to do with nausea.

"The roads look clear," she said. "Let's get going."

The sun on the fresh snow dazzled their eyes. By the time they made Albuquerque the snow had melted into the surrounding high desert.

Miranda dozed. She jerked awake now and then; just long enough to appreciate the desert swathed in the light of the full moon. When they stopped for the night she was surprised, and a little annoyed, when Drake deposited her gently on one of the two double beds in the motel room. She was alone in the bed when she awoke in the morning.

Guess he didn't want her after all.

Nausea gripped her. She stumbled to the bathroom hoping the fan was loud enough to keep her retching from Drake's ears. When she came out the room was empty. By the time she was dressed, Drake returned with coffee, orange juice, grapefruit, and blueberry muffins.

She was grateful that the juice and muffin stayed down.

"How much farther?" she asked.

Drake handed her the highway map. Her heart fell as she saw how little distance was left before they make the Mexican border and Cuidad Juarez. The border town was as far as they needed to go to finalize anything.

Drake was oddly solicitous all day. He adjusted the temperature controls until she was comfortable. He asked her to choose a CD to listen to instead of telling her which one to grab. He even stopped at the first rest stop along the highway without her asking.

His behavior, combined with the odd grin that never left his face, made Miranda more than a little sad. She'd fallen in love with Drake the Devil. She'd lost the opportunity to reveal it. If she said anything now he'd laugh all the way back to Colorado.

Somehow she'd get her life back together. How she'd do that without Drake was a mystery. There was no other way, of course.

She turned her head to the window as an unplanned tear leaked from her eye.

The border crossing was as tedious as it was uneventful. At last Drake pulled up to the address that Miranda had given him. She'd found this attorney on the Internet. She just hoped the divorce could be accomplished with a minimum of fuss and bother. Her heart couldn't take any more uncertainty.

She took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Shall we?"

"Just one more thing." Drake pulled a small brown paper bag from under the seat. It contained a home pregnancy test.

She gasped. "You're kidding."

He shook his head. "Part of the deal, Miranda. It hasn't been quite the thirty days we agreed on, but long enough I think."

"You're not kidding."

"Correct." He handed her the box. "Put this in your purse. You can take care of it inside."

Her hands trembled. She grabbed the box, struggling for calm. The past two weeks had already given her the answer that Drake was looking for. This would confirm it.

Then what would she do?

In a daze she walked into the cool lobby. Drake checked in with the receptionist while Miranda found the restroom. The test strip showed her exactly the answer she expected.

She's very pale, Drake thought as Miranda rejoined him. Tenderness overwhelmed him. The words he'd held back escaped his mouth before he considered the consequences.

"We don't have to go through with this."

She swallowed hard but met his gaze without flinching. "We had a deal, remember?"

Heat broke out on his forehead. A dribble of sweat tracked down his back though the ceiling fan beat steadily away at the warmth of the day. His throat was as dry as the desert through which they'd driven.

He tried again. "You don't understand. We don't have to get a divorce."

The quiet tip-tapping of the receptionist at her word processor ceased. Some faucet dripped in an unknown room somewhere. He heard his own heart beating as he watched Miranda's eyes open wide. The corners of her lips trembled.

"I think you'd better spell it out for me. Before you do that, don't you want to know the results of the test?"

"Yes, I mean, no." He couldn't believe how hard this was. "Just listen a minute. The test results don't have anything to do with what I need to say."

Tiny creases appeared between her eyebrows. Drake wanted to kiss them away but knew that if he tried any attempt at an explanation would be lost.

Taking her silence as consent, he took a deep breath. "We aren't really married." Forestalling her reply he rushed on. "I hired an out of work actress to be the Justice of the Peace. You were so drunk, I didn't think you'd notice. Now I wish I'd gone ahead with the real thing." He dropped his head in his hands, wondering how hard she'd hit him.

After a silent count to ten he peeked between his fingers. Her mouth gaped open. Her nostrils flared with each quick breath. The paleness of her face worried him, as did the tremor of her lips.