Easy Target (8 page)

She gazed into the mirror and snorted at the irony. She didn’t recognize much of herself right now, either. Her bottom lip was split and her face was smeared with blood. Her “naughty” nightshirt was ripped from her shoulder to the middle of her arm. Washing her face wasn’t going to be good enough.

She turned the water to steaming hot and climbed into the shower for the second time in thirty minutes. Tilting her head back into the spray, she tried to relax her neck. She shampooed her hair again and was just starting to feel the tranquilizing effect of the hot water when she heard the bathroom door open.

Sassy froze, every sense on point.

Chapter Eight

“I
T’S ME.
” B
RYAN’S
voice was pitched low, but Sassy could hear him perfectly from the other side of the shower curtain.

What was he doing in here?

“I need to talk to you.” There was an edge to his tone, and she felt a spike of irritation overriding the heart-­stopping fear she’d just experienced when the door had opened.

“Can’t it wait until I’m out?” She fought the urge to cover herself even though he couldn’t see a thing from where he was.

“If it could have waited, I’d have waited.” His voice sounded closer.

She grabbed the curtain and shielded her body while sticking her face out. Thankfully, he at least wore jeans now. A naked Bryan Fisher blew every circuit in her brain. His face was clean, but this close, she could see traces of blood on his neck and chest.

She swallowed the bile in her throat. That pretty much zinged the attraction she’d been feeling toward him. Blood freaked her out in a huge way.

“Okay, what is it?” she asked.

“We’re leaving.”

“When? What about the police?”

“We’re not calling the police.” Bryan propped himself against the bathroom counter.

“Why not? What about that dead man in our room?” She heard her own voice rise an octave.

Bryan’s eyes were cool and emotionless, so different from the man who’d been kissing her less than an hour ago.

“Don’t worry about where the guy is. I don’t know how he found us, but I do know that he was involved with some bad ­people, and more of them will come looking for us when he doesn’t report back in. So we’re getting out of here without a paper trail. The police—­”

“Leave paper trails,” she finished for him. With the water still streaming down her back, she was surprised at how calm she felt. But she’d seen her world crumble before—­her mom’s alcoholism, high school, last summer when Trey was arrested. This was just the next layer. Still, she felt cold, despite the hot shower and the steam.

“That’s right,” he nodded with approval. “We’re going to Penn Station.”

“Tonight?”

“There’s a train leaving for Philadelphia at 12:15. We can start making our way south. But we’ve got to stay under the radar from now on, so it’s travel by train or by bus.”

She stared at him a moment. The reality of the situation was finally sinking in. “Are we fugitives of some sort?”

“Not yet, but that could change soon if we don’t get out of here.”

“What about the body?” The chill she’d felt earlier was turning to ice.

“I think the less you know the better. Right now, I need to rinse off, and we’ll be on our way. Hurry up, or I’ll assume you want to share that shower.”

Was that a threat or a promise?

Every smart-­ass retort she’d normally have to his taunt flew right out of her head. At the same time she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to stand in the tiny enclosure with him.

“Give me two minutes.” She fought to keep her voice from squeaking as she dropped the shower curtain. God, she was so off her game here.

She heard him chuckle.

“You have one.”

December 27

Late evening

A
LMOST TWENTY-­FOUR HOURS
later, with Sassy dead asleep beside him, Bryan watched the night sky flash by from the window of the Silver Meteor.

“You’re terribly lucky,” said the conductor as he took Bryan’s cash for the upgrade to a sleeper car. “We had a no-­show in Richmond. I’ll go make sure it’s ready before you wake your friend.”

Bryan nodded his thanks and leaned his head back to wait. Earlier they’d caught a 12:15
AM
commuter train at Penn Station with moments to spare. He had tossed his phone outside the hotel and bought a burner at the station so they couldn’t be tracked.

Once in Philadelphia, they’d transferred to another train, hopscotching across different commuter lines all the way down to Virginia. The typical seven-­hour trip from New York had taken them over three times as long. Multiple layovers and trains later, here they were.

Sassy was only speaking to him when necessary, but that was fine. There wasn’t much that they could have discussed about the situation in public anyway. Still, sitting beside her in silence was driving him nuts. Smelling her, hearing the noises she made as she napped off and on throughout their trek south, was a new form of torture for him.

Her head had tilted and slid to finally end up against his arm. There were dark shadows under her eyes. Bryan knew how she felt. He was so tired, he’d lost count of how many hours he’d been awake over the past three days. But he hadn’t been able to sleep.

He could barely think, and he damn sure couldn’t let his guard down as long as they were sitting in a crowded passenger car. He had texted Leland when they’d managed to board in Richmond with no ID check. Thankfully, there would be no more hopping on and off for them.

The conductor came back with the tickets and directions to their car. Bryan gently woke Sassy. She was groggy but cooperative when she heard that they had a place to lie down.

Once the door to their compartment was closed and locked, she seemed to perk up considerably as Bryan took the first deep breath he’d had in hours. He shoved his duffel in the corner, sank into the reclining seat by the window, and laid his head back—­so relieved he could cry.

The porter had already lowered the beds, but Bryan wasn’t going to lie down on that bottom bunk until Sassy was firmly settled on the sleeping shelf above. If he had to sit beside her any longer, he was going to explode. He’d been hard since she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder between Baltimore and Richmond, and the smell of her skin and the feel of her body against his side had put his mind in places that were dangerous for his sanity. Right now, he desperately needed some distance and some rest.

But Sassy had a second wind and was now more than ready to talk. “I need you to explain to me exactly why we didn’t call the police in New York, and why we’re acting like fugitives. Where are we going?”

Bryan opened one eye. He didn’t want to do this. If he could sleep for just thirty minutes . . . Hell, a ten-­minute combat nap would put him miles ahead of where he was at this point.

“I can’t talk now, Sassy. I’m wiped.”

“When are we going to talk?” She crouched down beside his recliner.

“How about when I wake up?” He didn’t try to hide the hope in his voice.

The mulish set of her jaw was proof that she wasn’t going to wait. He recognized that look from years ago.
Damn.

He had nothing left in the tank. Zero resources to stop himself from showing her what he wanted to do so badly. Maybe if he let her see all that, she’d leave him alone—­at least long enough for him to regroup. In his exhausted state, it seemed like a reasonable plan.

He opened both eyes and stared at her, allowing everything he was feeling and wanting to show in his gaze. He was tired of trying to hide it from her and from himself. He wanted her underneath him in that pitiful excuse for a bed. And he didn’t have the discipline or the inclination to stifle his desire anymore.

All the longing and lust he’d been trying to bury for the past six months was at the surface for him, spilling over for her to see. And there was no doubt she saw exactly what was on his mind. She swallowed audibly at his scorching gaze.

“We’re fugitives. Don’t you get it? Someone is after you. I think it has to do with that story you were working on in Africa about the human trafficking and the cartel connection in Mexico. I can’t prove it yet, but that’s what I believe is going on.”

Now she had a dozen other questions in her eyes. But when she opened her mouth to ask them, he couldn’t . . . He just couldn’t do this anymore. He was at the tail end of a rapidly fraying rope.

So he said the one thing he knew would shut her up. The truth. “Sassy, either let me sleep or let me fuck you. I’m open to either option right now, but talking is not on the list.”

He cringed inwardly at what he’d just said out loud, but that seemed to have done it. Her mouth dropped open in shocked but blessed silence. The conversation was over, just as he’d known it would be. He was finally going to get some rest, but a niggling voice in the back of his mind told him he shouldn’t have gone there. Even if the words were true.

She was still staring at him from her crouched spot when he leaned his head back and closed his eyes again. He took a deep breath, preparing to sleep, when he felt her hand on his knee.

“I’d prefer the latter,” she whispered. “If you were serious about the offer . . .”

W
HAT WAS SHE
doing? God, what was she saying?
He’d said that to shock her. Eagle Scout Bryan wanted to have sex with her. That wasn’t exactly how he’d put it, but it was clear he wanted her.

And she wanted him. Plus, she was tired of pretending she didn’t. Tired of guarding her feelings, of being so scared, and now, wondering if they would live through the next few hours. She wanted some kind of control in her life, however fleeting.

But would Bryan still feel the same way when he understood the level of her deception? Most likely not. And that alone had her pulling the old Sassy persona more firmly around her shoulders.

She stood up straight, arched an eyebrow, and shrugged. “You seem so tired, though. Perhaps it would be better to wait till you’re rested up and are ready for me?” She was pulling that tiger’s tail and damning the consequences.

She smiled her lazy taunt. But he was up and out of the recliner so fast, she didn’t have time to step back. Besides, the only place to go was the bed. The converted mattress cushion pressed against the backs of her calves.

Bryan put his hands on her hips and pulled her toward him. He hadn’t been joking earlier about wanting her. The undeniable evidence prodded her belly through his jeans. He leaned down and put his face in hers. “Don’t say that if you’re not serious. I want you, and I’ll have you naked and in that bed before you know what happened. But I want you willing, not scared spitless.”

Ouch.
She deserved that, particularly after the twin freak-­outs she’d had in the hotel rooms in Constantine and New York. She stared up at him and gave the barest perceptible nod.

She wanted him, too, and he seemed to sense that this time something was different.

“You’re sure?” he asked. Pressed against him, she felt his voice resonate inside her chest.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I don’t want to scare you.” He touched her cheek as he studied her face. He was looking for something, but she wasn’t sure what. “The only promise I can make is that I won’t hurt you.”

“I know you won’t.” And in that moment she believed him.

He kissed her like he’d kissed her earlier, before she’d gotten skittish. His tongue tangled with hers, and a warm tingle worked its way through her body as she kissed him back. He seemed to take her response as a green light, pulling at the sweater she was wearing and quickly slipping it off over her head.

Before she could think clearly, his hands were at her waistline, and he was unbuttoning her new jeans. He slipped them down her legs, but they got caught on her boots. She smiled and started to blush. Then he looked up at her, not staring at her chest as she would have expected him to, but staring directly into her eyes with an intensity that she normally would have found unnerving.

His hands were incredibly gentle as he bent down. “I’ll get ’em off,” he murmured, kissing the top of her knees as he untied the boots and slid them off her feet.

More of those lovely tingles raced up and down her legs, starting a sudden ache at her center. Finally, she stood before him in her socks, her pale pink panties, and the matching bra she’d bought the night before.

He was on his knees in front of her. After putting the boots to the side, he pulled her down to sit on the lower mattress. His hands were still on her hips. He slid them down the outside of her legs then back up across the tops of her thighs, moving his thumbs closer to the lace edge of her underwear.

All the while he was kissing her belly, her hips, her thighs and making her woozy with the wanting and not knowing where he was going to touch her next. He unhooked her front-­closure bra with one hand, then his lips were on her nipple, and it was such an exquisite sensation. She was trying to catch her breath, but that was impossible. She’d never felt anything like this before. A train whistle blew in the distance, reminding her where they were, but the rocking of the train only added to the surreal sensations overwhelming her.

He moved his thumbs higher and higher inside her thighs, occasionally brushing against the silky nylon of her panties and sending sparks skittering through her lower body. She wanted something, but she couldn’t name it.

He shifted from one breast to the other, and her unattended nipple pebbled. He put one hand on her shoulder and pushed her slowly to the mattress, following her down. His lips transferred from her breast again to her belly and lower.

Checking to make sure she was okay with this, he glanced up once more before he started to pull her underwear down her legs. She nodded and stared back at him, holding his gaze, because she was so much more than okay. His fingers were on her, touching her in that most intimate place. Then his mouth was there, and instead of being scared or embarrassed, she was floating, focused only on what his fingers and his tongue were doing to her.

As much as she wanted to just drift along, she felt herself building up to something else that was bright and shiny but foreign at the same time. He pressed his mouth more firmly against her, and she was flying through space, shattering into a million pieces.

Floating back moments later, she realized she was lying cattycorner across the bed and naked while he was on his knees in front of her, still fully clothed. Surely they were going to . . .

She had to talk to him. Had to let him know before they—­

And just like that, her lovely, floating, blissed-­out feeling disappeared. She exhaled. He’d never forgive her if she didn’t tell him beforehand.