Hell on the Heart (10 page)

She shook her head. “Side-by-side.”

“Not enough room.” Unable to stretch out, he bent his knees and pulled her down, to straddle him. Except their upper bodies didn’t meet. “Relax.”

“No, I weigh too much.”

He might have laughed, but he didn’t have time. A loud crash and the sound of shattering glass had him reaching above her and pulling the mattress over the top of the tub. He would have preferred to have her underneath him to protect her body should the mattress not hold, but the tub lacked the room necessary to maneuver.

 With the cover came darkness. She had been right about one thing. It was hot as hell in here.

He wrapped his arms around her and massaged her shoulders and arms until little by little her body eased downward to rest against his. There was nothing he could do about his erection now pillowed by her belly.

Another loud crash. Something caved, causing the top of the mattress to sag, but their cover held. Her arms gripped his shoulders and her nails bit where they dug in. A shudder he attributed to fear ran through her.

“You’re okay. I’ll keep you safe,” he murmured in her ear. Gradually her fingers eased. He continued stoking her in a comforting fashion, while all the time he wanted to pull her top down so he could feel her hard, bare nipples against his chest.

Her neck and shoulder less than an inch from his lips beckoned him. He shifted his head to give into temptation when the freight train disappeared. The silence that remained in its wake was not soothing, but spooky. He expected her to move about, but if anything, her muscles tightened and her body tensed into full alert.

“It’s over,” he whispered. “We’re okay.”

“Eye of the storm.” She twisted. For the first time she faced him. Their bodies no longer pressed together like two opposing forces. In the stifling heat they melded together and making it impossible to determine where one ended and the other began.

Her warm breath tantalized him. She shifted, easing an arm free and lifted her hand to his face. Her fingers fluttered like a butterfly kissing his scars. Tracing them. With each gentle touch she pried open his armor and looked into his core.

He’d survived earthquakes, floods and a tsunami, but he started to hate tornados. The storm unleashed its vendetta against the small Texas resort area, as they clung together in the makeshift sauna, sweat pooling between their bodies, hearts so close they beat in harmony.  

When silence finally reigned, both bodies were limp from strain. John shoved against the mattress to free them from the metal coffin. The mattress shifted but only a mere sliver, enough to allow a cool trickle of air to enter. Whatever was above them wasn’t moving by his efforts. They would have to wait to be rescued.

“Czigany, do you trust me to help you? Tell me what happened Friday night. I promise I won’t tell your family.” Why he’d added that he had no idea, but apparently he’d stumbled upon her true worry, because in the darkened tub the earth shifted as her husky voice began to relay the details.

And it wasn’t at all the story he expected particularly not when he asked, “so you didn’t tell your family because you were embarrassed?”

A snort of disapproval sounded, before she snapped, raising her head off his chest to peer at him in the dark, “Of course, I was embarrassed. And my family would never have believed a good-looking man hit on me just out of the blue. They would want to know what I’d done to encourage it.”

“You’re kidding.” When she didn’t respond, he asked. “Did you encourage it?”

She hesitated. “Maybe.” This time the pause was even longer. “Here was this limo in Dillo Creek. Out of place. Plus it had darkened windows. I leaned over the fender to read the vin numbers on the dash.”

He asked, “did you get them?” Half expecting her answer to be yes.

She shook her head. Her ponytail had loosed because strands of hair tickled his chest. “That’s when Cain stepped out of the shadows.”

He suspected she’d had very little experience sexually, but he didn’t believe for a minute men weren’t attracted to her. He’d bet her family intimidated anyone who looked her way or she simply didn’t recognize a male reaction for what it was.

Cain picked up women for a living. His lines were practiced and smooth, plus he had the looks and the trappings of wealth. But Cezi hadn’t responded to any of that, she’d wanted to know about an out of place limo. Cain had come on to her too fast, raising her ire. John didn’t want to think about why that thought pleased him.

“Nothing happened.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t need my family to fix my problems.” Her eyes popped open. In the dusky tub, he read fortitude and resolve. “I’ll handle Cain.”

If tone alone could save her, she had that handled, but she needed more help than just her own determination.

“I can help.” In his head he saw the dark playground and the fear she battled. His stomach twisted in concern for her. She needed him.

“Forget it. I see that look in your eyes. You see yourself as the white knight. I don’t need you, I’ve been in worse scrapes than this.”

Liar. This woman had bravado to an art form. She had no idea how scary the real world was for most women who didn’t have a family of men standing behind her. “When? How much worse?”

She paused. Just what he thought, she was all talk. She’d never been even remotely in trouble like this before.

But he misjudged her. “I was once sued for hexing a boy.” She threw down her trump card.

No way was she dribbling out information a little at a time. She thought ‘hexing a boy’ put her in danger as opposed to an encounter with a killer like Cain?

“How?” he demanded.

She tossed her head. “According to his family, I made him a bed wetter.”

He pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. “Can you do that?” he asked, working hard to keep the astonishment out of his voice.

“If I could, Cain would already be dead.”

Luca’s words came back to him. Trouble has a way of finding her. Man, oh man, she had a wealth of material they could use. His first instinct was to commandeer her photos and fingerprints, all the evidence she’d gathered and disappear back to Washington.

But that left her exposed. Whether he liked it or not, she was the best link they had. Combined with the fact she was smart and dauntless in her pursuit. That left two options, either take her with him or bring the team to her.

“Oh shit. This is ugly. Hang on. It’ll be a few minutes.” More than one male voice expressed garbled opinions on the scene above them.

Cezi twisted, dragging a hip against him. His body reacted. “Hold still.” He gripped her, holding her immobile, knowing it was too late to prevent embarrassment when she rose off him. From the reactions he’d seen so far, he doubted the protective males in her family would find his rock-hard erection amusing.

The mattress tilted. A loud rumbling followed as the debris crashed to the floor. Two flashlight beams shown in his eyes.

“What the hell…”

Even better. They weren’t expecting him at all. Great. He wasn’t sure if Cezi hopped up or was lifted, but the cool gust of wind was a relief or would have been if it hadn’t been wet. He pushed the top half of his body off the blanket and twisted to see the large gaping hole in the back wall and roof.

It wasn’t totally dark. Outside light made it easy to see the three pairs of angry male eyes glaring at him. Even so hands reached out to grip his forearms and help him rise. A fourth man held Cezi in a protective bear hug.

“Enough. I’m okay,” she said. “How bad is the rest of the house?”

When no one answered, she shook herself loose and flipped the light switch. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Nothing happened. Snatching a flashlight from the man nearest to her she checked the face of each man in the room, most snarled in response.

“Where have you been?” Cezi said. “I had an asthma attack. If Agent Stillwater hadn’t carried me back here I’d have been caught out in the storm.”

The hostile mood in the room shifted to a mixture of chagrin and annoyance.

“You’re practically naked,” The man who’d been hugging her said, struggling hard to maintain the upper hand. “And he was handling you.”

She huffed. “Not through choice. He was forced into protecting me because there wasn’t another solution.”

She was good. Had she not turned the tables on the men, a fight would have broken out by now. But her words bothered him. Did she truly think he was repelled, but forced himself to touch her? He only wished that was true.

Cezi hop-scotched out of the room on tiptoe, carefully avoiding the rubble covering the floor. Unable to help himself, John laughed.

The tallest man snarled. “You think this is funny?”

“No. I’m just glad to see I’m not the only man she leads around by the nose.”

Lips curled. “No kidding.” He noticed the men kept their voices low. Even though a tiny woman ruled them, not a one dared to admit it where she could hear.

A hand extended to help him out of the tub. “Next time. Stay dressed.”

“Yeah. Well, when an attractive twenty-four-year-old woman suggests you take off your clothes and join her in the tub, I’ll be interested to hear your answer.”

Several grunted, but the one who’d been hugging Cezi rebuked him. “She’s not an attractive woman; she’s our cousin, so keep your clothes on. And Dude, she’s nowhere near twenty-four. She’s at least twenty-seven or twenty-eight. Way too old for you.”

John’s couldn’t decide what surprised him the most. That she was older than he thought or that her cousin thought she was over the hill.

“I’m Rolf, by the way.” He offered his hand and introduced his brothers, Stefan, Andrej and Tomas.

Tomas, the youngest of the group, frowned. “Where are your clothes?”

Andrej bent over and held up a soggy shoe. The reality of the situation became apparent. “You can’t go outside like that; you’ve already got every aunt in a panic. I’ll get you something of mine.” He sprinted out the door.

“Let’s hurry up and get her stuff out of the rain. You know how she’ll be if her clothes are ruined. Tomorrow we can hammer a tarp on the roof until we get permanent repairs done.”

In order to save as much as possible, the men gathered her belongings and moved them into undamaged rooms while Cezi, now wearing jeans and a t-shirt, stood on the coffee table and directed the orchestra. Several friendly back pats assured him of his acceptance as he shouldered his load, dressed like a bumblebee in Tomas’s sweatpants and yellow and black striped soccer shirt.

Exuberant puppies had less energy than her family. They work as they laughed and joked among themselves, played tricks on each other and broke into scuffles that ended in laughter rather than bloodshed. Yet, the more time he spent, the more he sensed the harmless exterior covered a tight-knit family group prepared to use any means available to defend their own.

Fighting skills could be taught, but unwavering loyalty was rare and had value beyond consideration. Would he have acquired such dedication to his family or heritage if he’d been raised on the reservation?

His parents and his favorite sister, Dyami, were dead, his remaining half-brothers and sisters scattered. In his line of work, being too involved was dangerous. Living the life of a lone wolf suited him, although a very small part of him was pleased to be included so easily.

As the group was being ushered out the front door, he was comfortable enough to joke. “Well, at least your pink couch was saved.”

Only to hear the entire chorus of men say in unison, “It’s mauve.”

A grin she didn’t even try to suppress lit her expression as she locked the front door. He was not the first who’d made that mistake. Pink? Mauve? Fuchsia? Blush? Who cared? They were all pink.

Across the hall of her father’s house Czigany’s bedroom door was closed when John slipped out early the next morning, wearing nothing but clean underwear, socks and another dress shirt. Worried that she would feel the aches and pains of their confinement in the tub, he let her sleep. They’d have to go to work soon enough.

The long carpeted hallway muffled his footsteps as he headed toward the living room. A glance at his watch told him that with the time change, his team would have been at work for a couple of hours. He pressed speed dial on his cell.

The scent of coffee and fresh baked cinnamon rolls drew him toward the kitchen where Nicholae iced pastries.

Both men nodded. Neither spoke, but the older man gestured toward the table. He placed a hot roll on a plate and poured a cup of coffee. Even from the distance of the five feet that separated them, John saw the thick, black syrup would be a serious eye-opener.

He’d completely forgotten his cell phone call until the voice in his ear spoke. “Our guy struck again last night,” Ciggy said in lieu of ‘hello’.