Into the Whirlwind (12 page)

Chapter Thirteen

When they reached Meg's house, Luke peeled off, heading for his Bellevue apartment for some badly needed downtime. He'd be back in the morning for the trip to the Mayfair Bowling Alley, where there was a good chance Vinnie Santini would show up to gamble.

Dirk's hand fisted. He was more than ready for the meet. In the meantime, as tired as he was, he wouldn't have much trouble falling asleep.

Parking the Viper in Meg's garage, he guided her into the house, watched as she kicked off her high heels, then pulled the clips out of her long, red hair and shook it free. With a tired sigh, she wearily lifted the fine strands up off her shoulders, then let them fall back again. She was exhausted, he knew. She hadn't slept at all since her little boy had been abducted.

Dirk felt a pang in his chest. He'd been proud of her tonight, proud of how strong she'd been. She wanted her baby returned and she was doing everything in her power to make that happen.

They paused at the bottom of the stairs. “Tomorrow's a big day,” he said. “We both need to get some sleep.”

“I know. There's a blanket and pillow on the sofa in the family room.”

“What about you? You need some rest, too.”

She sighed. “I wish I could. I'm just . . . I'm too keyed up to sleep.” She swallowed and shook her head. “I can't eat. I can't sleep. I just lie there counting every heartbeat, every breath of air going in and out of my lungs. Whenever I close my eyes I think of Charlie and it's like ... it's like if I sleep, I'm failing him.”

Dirk caught her shoulders. “You aren't failing him. You're trying to keep it together so you
won't
fail him.”

Big, teary blue eyes centered on his face. She was standing barefoot on the bottom stair, bringing her height level with his.

“I'm so tired,” she said. “You could make me sleep. We could make love and then I could sleep.” Before he could move, she leaned in to him, her full breasts sinking into his chest, her soft lips coming down over his.

Heat and need hit him like a punch in the stomach. Hot desire clawed at his insides. This was Meg and he wanted her. Ached for her, just as he had before.

For a moment he kissed her back, just sank in and took what he wanted, let the softness of her lips stir the fire in his blood. When she opened, inviting him in, his tongue slid over hers and he went iron hard.

He'd wanted Megan O'Brien since the moment he had seen her strutting down the runway in a pair of strappy high heels, a tiny silver thong, and angelic white-feathered wings.

That feeling was nothing compared to the all-consuming lust he felt for her now, after five long months without her.

“Dirk . . .” Her arms slid up around his neck. “I need you.” She kissed him wildly and he kissed her back, tasting, remembering, yearning. It took every ounce of his will to finally pull himself free and step away.

“We can't do this, Meg. I'm not going there with you again.”

Her eyes filled, making them look even bigger and bluer. “I can't take any more, Dirk. I'm going to break; I can feel it. I'm begging you. Just this once. Just for tonight. Please, Dirk.”

He clamped down on his raging need. “Maybe you could take a sleeping pill. You must have something around here.”

“I don't want a sleeping pill! My son is missing! I can't bear to think of what might be happening to him! I want someone to hold me. I want someone to touch me. I want to forget for a while. Make me forget, Dirk. Please.”

He was a strong man, but he was no saint. When a woman who looked like Meg begged a man to take her, when that man wanted her the way he'd never wanted another woman, there was only one choice.

Pulling her back into his arms, he claimed her mouth in a deep, thorough kiss. Sliding the silver skirt up to her waist, he cupped her perfect heart-shaped ass and dragged her against him, let her feel the hard ridge beneath the fly of his jeans.

Meg moaned into his mouth and pressed herself more fully against him. The kiss went wild and fierce. He liked to kiss and he loved kissing Meg. He loved the way she tasted, loved the full lips that melded so perfectly with his.

He unzipped the stretchy silver dress down to her waist, then slid the straps off her shoulders, exposing the white lace demi bra that shoved her breasts up like a feast. Bending his head, he tongued her nipple through the sheer fabric, then unfastened the front hook, dragged the bra off, and tossed it away.

Smooth, plump breasts filled his hands. He knew the exact size and shape, knew the weight of them, knew how good they felt nestled in his palms.

He bent and took the fullness into his mouth, heard Meg moan. Arching her back, she urged him to take more of her, and he didn't disappoint. While his mouth worked her breasts, his hand moved down her body, slid over the tiny strip of satin between her legs.

He was hard as granite, pulsing with the beat of the blood pumping through his veins.

“Take me,” Meg whispered, “I don't want to wait.” He didn't want to wait either. He wanted to be inside her so bad his hands clenched into fists.

“Please, I need you so much. Make love to me, Dirk.”

Make love to me.
The words hit him like a blow. He couldn't do this, refused to feel that kind of heartache again.

“Dirk, please.” Her slender fingers cupped him through his jeans, and arousal burned through him. His resolve weakened. Jesus, he wanted her.

He gripped her shoulders, commanding her attention. “If we do this, it's just sex, Meg. You understand? Just sex, nothing more. We do this, it doesn't change a thing.”

A little sob came from her throat. “I don't care, I don't care. I need you. I can't take any more.”

He knew what asking him was costing her. Knew she had pushed herself to the ragged edge. He tried not to think that any other man could do the job as well as he, wanted to believe this meant something to Meg, no matter what he'd said.

Sliding an arm beneath her knees, he scooped her against his chest and strode up the stairs, carried her down the hall to her bedroom, set her on her feet next to the bed.

Meg framed his face between her hands and kissed him. “I want you inside me.” Another soft kiss. “Your condoms are still in the drawer.”

His lust-fogged brain hadn't thought of protection so that was a big problem solved.

Meg worked his belt buckle and buzzed down the zipper on his jeans.
It's just sex
, he reminded himself. Just a way to help Meg escape her nightmare, at least for tonight.

Dirk opened the drawer and pulled out a condom, tore it open, and slid it on as he backed her up against the wall. The dress bunched around her waist. Her pretty breasts bobbed free. She was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.

Easing her little white satin panties down over her hips, he let them fall to her ankles, and Meg stepped out of them. Dirk kissed her, felt the heat of her fingers around him, guiding him inside her. Lust hit him hard and he fought not to come.

Lifting her up, he wrapped her long legs around his waist, buried himself deep and began to move, taking her with hard, heavy strokes that sent fresh heat burning through him.

Meg moaned.

“Easy, baby.” He wouldn't come until she did, not if it killed him. He was doing this for her, giving her what she needed. Giving them both what they needed.

And it wasn't going to be over anytime soon.

Beneath his thermal, he felt her nails digging into his shoulders as he drove into her. His belt buckle clanked, her head tipped back, and she cried out his name. Meg came hard, but he didn't stop. Not until he had driven her up over the peak again.

His climax was explosive, drawing his insides into a hot, tight knot and making him groan. For long seconds, he just held her, her arms around his neck, her head resting on his shoulder. Then he felt the wetness of her tears.

“Oh, God, Dirk.” She started to cry as he set her on her feet next to the bed.

“Easy, baby.” Gently, he stripped off the rest of her clothes. “It's all right, honey. We're going to bring Charlie home. Everything's gonna be okay.” For long seconds he just held her, let her cry out some of her grief.

Then he lifted her into his arms and settled her on the mattress. “You think you can sleep now?”

Meg wiped away her tears. “I can if you lie down beside me.”

He reached down and touched her cheek. “If I do, I'll want you again.”

Fresh tears spilled over. “Yes, please.”

* * *

Meg didn't care what Dirk said—it wasn't just sex, at least not for her. Dirk wasn't just a man she was using to help her get through the worst days of her life. He was the lover she had missed every night since she had sent him away.

She watched as he pulled his long-sleeve thermal off over his head and tossed it away. Removed his work boots and slid out of his jeans. She loved his lean, magnificent body, the sculpted muscles, the six-pack ridges across his flat stomach, the trail of dark hair that arrowed from his navel down into his jeans.

She thought she saw a new tattoo on his shoulder, but in the darkness she couldn't make out what it was. Then he was kissing her and she was kissing him back and the thought slid away.

He was gentle with her this time, kissing her breasts, then moving lower, using his talented hands and mouth to drive her to the peak, then gently nudging her over.

He took his own pleasure, but she knew hers came first. He was taking care of her, the way he always had. She loved that about him. The way he watched out for her. She loved so much about Dirk.

Her eyes burned in the darkness. What she felt for Dirk didn't matter. Dirk wasn't the kind of man to repeat a mistake, and to him that was all she was. He'd been convinced they had a future. She had known all along they didn't. She had thrown his care of her back in his face, and aside from the sex she had offered him tonight, the sex she'd so badly needed, she'd given him nothing. They were over.

She knew it and so did Dirk.

It was late in the night. With Dirk lying spoon fashion behind her, a hard arm draped over her ribs, she fell asleep for a while, a few minutes of blessed slumber after days without it.

Sometime in the night, she'd started to dream, sweet dreams of Dirk that turned into sadness and loss, then terrifying nightmares about Charlie.

She was awake now, her mind spinning with thoughts of her son. Charlie's darling little-boy face, the freckles on his nose, his red hair sticking up near the cowlick at the back of his head.

Fear for him clogged her throat. Had sleeping with Dirk been a betrayal? Had those few moments of escape been moments she should have spent praying for her son?

Her eyes filled. Where was her baby now? What was happening to him?

“You aren't asleep,” Dirk said, a gentle rebuke.

Meg wiped tears from her eyes and rolled onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. “I slept for a while. Thank you for that.”

He leaned over and kissed the side of her neck, traced a finger between her breasts, slid his hand down between her legs. In minutes she was ready for him again, welcoming him inside her, seeking the few desperate moments of peace he so easily gave her.

By the time he was finished, every part of her body felt limp and sated, her mind little more than a hazy blur. As her eyes slid closed, a deep sleep enveloped her.

This time she didn't dream.

Chapter Fourteen

It was early, a weak sun graying the horizon through a sky heavy with clouds. Dirk left Meg asleep in her bedroom, went into the guest room and took a shower. Dressed in khaki cargo pants, a dark brown long-sleeve T-shirt, and his low-topped leather work boots, he headed downstairs, in desperate need of a cup of coffee.

When he reached the kitchen doorway, the rich aroma hit him. A pot had already been brewed.

Luke sat in a chair at the kitchen table, a ceramic mug resting next to his iPad.

“Come on in,” Dirk said sarcastically, wandering over to the counter to pour himself a cup. “Make yourself right at home.” The doors were all locked. He hadn't heard Luke come in. The man moved like a freaking ghost.

“Sleep well?” Luke asked with a disapproving glare and the lift of a single dark eyebrow, clearly guessing where Dirk had spent the night.

“I could use a few more hours.”

“I'll bet you could.”

“If it's any of your business—which it isn't—last night wasn't about me, it was about Meg. She's barely holding it together, Luke. She's a friend. She needed me last night. I gave her what she needed.”

Luke's disgruntlement faded. “Maybe you did, but at what cost to you, bro?”

Dirk didn't answer. His head was still too full of Meg. Even after a long, hot shower, the smell of her perfume teased his senses. He could still taste her on his tongue.

It had taken him months to get over her. Now he was right back where he'd been before.

“We need to get her boy back before you fuck yourself up completely,” Luke said.

Dirk sighed. “You're right. We bring Charlie home and I'm out of here.” He glanced down at Luke's iPad. “Anything new from Sadie?”

“She ran the Bob Algreen lead into the ground. Nothing there. It definitely isn't him.”

“Someone's behind this and it's not Santini or the babysitter.” The girl was too young, Santini not smart enough.

Luke nodded. “Maybe good ol' Vinnie will enlighten us.”

Dirk glanced at the clock. It was eight in the morning. Soon they'd be leaving for the Mayfair, which opened at ten.

“If Vinnie doesn't show or doesn't have the answers we need,” Luke said, “we'll have to pull back and wait for the ransom call. We won't have any other choice.”

“I don't like it. Puts the kidnappers in charge.”

“I don't like it either. With any luck, Santini's itch will get him to the Mayfair and he'll give us a location.”

Dirk's jaw hardened. “If he knows where they are, he'll tell us. We won't need any luck.”

The faintest edge of a hard smile appeared on Luke's mouth. Dirk downed his coffee, and the men headed off to collect their gear. Together they had a pair of tactical vests, flash grenades, Dirk's Browning, an AR-15, and a .45 S&W, Luke's M9 Beretta, his short-barreled tactical shotgun, and various and sundry weaponry they both had stashed away. They also carried earbuds for communication.

There was more out in the Bronco. Luke carried enough artillery to supply an army, plus he'd loaded Dirk's extra weapons into the back when he'd retrieved Dirk's clothes.

If Santini gave them the kidnappers' location, they'd be ready to head straight there.

Dirk clipped his holster onto his belt, pulled out his Browning nine mil and checked the load while Luke checked his Beretta. They were both wearing ankle guns, Dirk a .38 snub-nosed revolver, Luke a Glock 27, subcompact. 40 cal.

Dirk shoved his little .22 revolver back into his jean's pocket. The switchblade was probably in a pocket of Luke's desert camos or stuffed down one of his heavy leather army boots.

Dirk glanced out the window. It was a dark, ominous morning, but the thick gray overcast would help them blend in, make them less noticeable as they waited for Santini at the bowling alley.

“You better leave a note for Meg,” Luke said, and Dirk nodded.

He had just scratched out a message and set it on the dining room table when a knock sounded at the front door.

Luke went to check. “It's O'Brien.” He pulled open the door.

“I got the money.” Edwin O'Brien strode into the entry. “It's mostly hundreds, banded in thousands, a few stacks of tens and twenties, all stashed in twelve twenty-pound canvas bags locked in my trunk.”

“Jesus,” Dirk said. “I hope to hell you trust the people who helped you put it there.”

“They're good people. They know how much Charlie means to me.”

“I'm glad you came,” Luke said. “You can stay with Meg. We've got a lead. We're just getting ready to leave.”

“Mrs. Wills said she'd be over this morning,” Dirk added, “but it'd be good for you to be with Meg if the kidnappers call.”

“You think they will?”

“Like I said, I think they'll stick to the plan. That means no call till this afternoon. They've thought this through. They've got an exit strategy. They have contingencies in place in case something goes wrong.” Like they had when Pam's phone had been pinged, giving away their location. “They don't want any more hiccups.”

“We need to leave,” Luke said.

“Where are you going?” O'Brien asked.

“We've got a possible location for the babysitter's boyfriend. We need to talk to him.”

“If you've found something, maybe it's time to bring in the police.”

Dirk turned at the sound of feminine footfalls, felt a tightening in his chest when he spotted Meg.

“We aren't doing that, Dad. If we do, they might kill Charlie.” She looked better this morning, a faint trace of color in her cheeks, the smudges gone from beneath her blue eyes. He'd done that for her. It was impossible to regret what had happened between them last night.

“We've got to go,” Luke said.

Meg straightened to her impressive five-foot-ten-inch height and looked Dirk straight in the face. “Yes, we do, and I'm going with you. If Santini tells us where to find Charlie, we can go get him.”

Dirk's gaze ran over her clothes: dark blue jeans and a black turtleneck sweater, her feet in a pair of hiking boots, her hair pulled tightly back at the nape of her neck. She'd thought this through. It was going to be hell trying to talk her out of it.

He reached out and caught her shoulders. “You can't go this time, hon—Meg. Today's the big payoff. These guys are bound to be nervous. Anything could set them off. If we go after Charlie, I need to be able to concentrate on keeping him safe and not worry about what might be happening to you.”

“He might need me, Dirk. I'm his mother. I have to be there. I promise I'll stay out of your way.”

O'Brien spoke to his daughter. “You're being ridiculous, Meg. These men are professionals. You're a woman.”

“She's a woman all right,” Luke drawled, sticking his two cents in again where it wasn't wanted. “No doubt about that. But I think she's proved herself. She deserves to be there if that's what she wants.”

That was totally true, but it didn't change anything. “Jesus, Luke. We can't take her with us. It's too dangerous.”

Luke's laser-blue eyes zeroed in on Dirk's face. “Santini may not even show. If he does and we get a location, Meg can stay in the car. If we find the boy, he's going to need his mother.”

“I'm going,” Meg said. “Charlie's my son. I have to be there, Dirk.”

He looked up at the ceiling, fighting for control. Much as he didn't want to take her, part of him admired her courage. Add to that, there was no way he'd stay home and wait if the boy were his son.

A sigh of resignation whispered through him. “You'll do what I tell you, right? Just like before?”

“I will, I promise.”

“We need to go now,” Luke said.

“Say a prayer for us, Daddy.” Meg leaned over and kissed her father's cheek, then turned and started walking toward the door.

“You've got my cell number,” Dirk said to O'Brien. “Call if you hear from them.” Then they were out the front door and heading for the Bronco.

* * *

The Mayfair Bowling Alley in Kenmore sat in the crotch of a strip mall on NE Bothell Way, a nothing, single-story, out-of-the-way place with a cluster of cars parked out front. It was ten after ten, the bowling alley/minicasino already open for business. Her father's arrival, Meg's argument with Dirk, and a traffic snarl had cost them a few precious minutes.

Meg sat tensely in the backseat while Dirk phoned Sadie and read off the plate numbers of the cars in the lot, hoping to find a vehicle registered to Sandoval, Santini, or Pamela Vardon.

Nothing came up.

They waited a few more minutes, watching from inside the Bronco, parked near the back of the lot. There was no sign of Santini.

“We're going in to take a look,” Dirk said to Meg, cracking open his door. “Keep your eyes open. You've got your cell. Pull up my number. If you spot Santini, give me a heads-up. Whatever happens, in no case do you get out of the car. Understood?”

She lifted her chin. “I'm not an idiot. Of course I understand.”

His mouth edged up, lifting one side of his sexy mustache. “Stay out of trouble.”

The men split up, Dirk heading for the front door, Luke detouring around back in case Santini was already inside and tried to run. Meg watched Dirk's tall, lean, V-shaped body as he strode toward the entrance and tried not to think of what had happened last night.

For five long months she had tried to forget how good they were together. Tried to forget the way he knew exactly where to touch her. Exactly how to please her. How to make her forget everything but him.

She should be embarrassed by the way she'd begged him to take her, but she wasn't. She'd needed him last night and Dirk had been there for her.

She needed him now, needed him to help her find her son.

Meg stayed low in the seat but remained vigilant, hoping to spot Santini's arrival. Minutes slipped past, but still no sign of the man whose photo she had memorized.

Her nerves hiked up when an older-model brown Chevy Malibu pulled into the lot. The driver parked in a space close to the front door, got out, clicked the locks, and headed for the bowling alley.

Medium height, olive complexion, perfectly styled glossy black hair. A handsome, well-dressed man in his early thirties.
Santini.
Meg's pulse leaped. Grabbing her cell phone off the seat, she hit the Send button, heard Dirk pick up on the other end of the line.

“He's here. He's almost at the front door.”

“Good girl.” The line went dead.

The next thing she saw was Dirk appearing in the entrance to the bowling alley, standing in the door frame, blocking Santini's way, then pushing him back out the door.

Dirk said something she couldn't hear, whirled Santini around, and jammed him up against the wall so fast it was almost a blur.

He dragged Santini's arm up in back and pulled a plastic tie out of his pocket. Santini struggled, but Dirk held him easily, jerked his other arm behind him, and bound the man's wrists.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted Luke racing around the building to join them. Meg watched with a mixture of nervousness and hope as Dirk and Luke marched Santini across the parking lot toward the Bronco.

Luke opened the tailgate and shoved the man into the back, and Dirk followed him into the space behind the backseat. Until that moment, she hadn't noticed the metal rings welded into the side of the cargo area. Now, as Dirk secured the prisoner to the rings, it occurred to her that a bounty hunter would need a way to transport his prisoners.

“This is kidnapping,” Santini sputtered, tugging on the restraints.

“Yeah, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Vinnie?” Dirk climbed out and slammed the tailgate, locking Santini inside, walked around, and slid into the backseat next to Meg.

Santini's handsome face looked pale as Luke fired up the powerful engine and the SUV shot out of the parking lot and roared off down the street.

“Who are you? Where are you taking me?”

“Depends on how fast you tell us what we want to know,” Dirk said.

“I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know anything.”

“My ass,” Dirk said. “And you can be sure whatever it is you say you don't know is exactly what you're going to tell us.”

“You're crazy.”

“Is Pamela with my son?” Meg asked over the backseat. “Where have they taken my boy?”

Santini started trembling, though secured as he was, he could barely move. “I told you, I don't . . . don't know anything.”

Dirk's smile could have cut nails. “You know how we don't do waterboarding anymore because it's considered torture? Well, waterboarding is going to look like a fun day at the beach when we're through with you.”

The rest of the blood drained out of Santini's face. He tugged on the restraints, rattling the metal rings, must have realized the men had come well prepared.

“I don't know anything,” he said again, but the words came out in barely a whisper.

Meg didn't know what Dirk and Luke had planned and she didn't care. She wanted her little boy safely home.

And there was every reason to believe Vinnie Santini knew where to find him.