Lost and Found (3 page)

"You've got a gun." She seemed to think this one fact explained everything.

"Lady, they've got guns, too."

"Don't call me lady. It makes me feel like a spoiled poodle."

"Well, at least half the description fits." He didn't need daylight to know that she was glaring at him. The impact of the look was palpable.

"Sarcasm isn't going to get us anywhere."

"Neither is standing here arguing. Let's get out of here."

"Why won't you help me capture them? There're only three of them."

"Help you? What are you planning on doing? I've only got one gun so unless you've got an Uzi secreted in your bra, I don't think there's a whole hell of a lot you can do to aid this guerrilla attack you want me to launch."

"There're three of them and only one of me. That's three to one and even John Wayne thought twice with those odds."

The veins in his temples stood out with the effort he was making to keep his voice down. When he remembered his concern about her being paralyzed with shock, he wanted to laugh but he knew it would have had a hysterical edge. It was a wonder she was still a captive. If he'd been the kidnappers, he'd have given her back immediately. There wasn't any amount of ransom that was worth coping with her.

"I'm leaving now. Are you coming with me or not?"

"I think you're scared of them." The challenge in her voice made it clear that she expected him to prove his manhood by doing what she wanted.

"You're damn right I'm scared. Only a fool wouldn't be. Now, are you coming?"

What she might have said in reply was destined to remain unspoken. The two of them stood in the doorway that led from the balcony into the bedroom. Directly across the wide room from them was the door that led into the hall. Perhaps the sound of their voices had carried farther than they'd intended or maybe the kidnappers had just decided to check on their captive. They'd never know.

The door opened with a creak of hinges that gave Sam an instant's warning. He grabbed Babs with one hand and shoved her behind him, snatching his gun with the other hand. The bullet shattered the door-jamb next to the other man's head and Sam heard a cry of pain as splinters of wood peppered his face. The man ducked back, jerking the door shut behind him.

Sam turned and grabbed Babs around the waist. "No more arguing. Get down the rope as fast as you can and head due east." If she had a protest, he didn't give her time to voice it. He lowered her over the side of the balcony, waiting only until he was sure that she had a hold on the rope before turning back to the door. He gave her a few seconds to get started down the rope and then fired another shot into the door, just in case they were thinking about trying that entrance again.

He tucked the gun back into his waistband and swung himself over the railing. Grabbing the rope, he slid toward the ground, letting the rope sing through his hands. He hit the ground in a crouch. Sensing a presence behind him, he spun, hands up. Before he could strike, a breathless and all too familiar voice stopped him.

"It's me."

He let his hands drop. "I thought I told you to head east."

"It would have helped if I'd known which direction east was."

The sarcasm was lost in the sudden crack of gunfire. The bullet missed, disappearing in the bushes beyond, but Sam didn't need a stronger hint. He grabbed her arm and ran toward the overgrowth that had shielded him the night before. In the time that had passed since he crossed this space, the sun had slipped high enough to give a weak illumination. It made it easy to see where they were going and he was able to make better time than he had earlier, but it also made it easier to be seen. Twice more, rifle fire split the quiet morning; once the bullet kicked up dirt not two feet ahead of them. That was considerably closer than he liked.

All they could do was keep running. There was nowhere to stop and return the fire. He just had to hope that their luck would hold. And then they were plunging into the overgrown shrubbery.

His pack and coat were laying just where he'd left them and he barely slowed his stride to snatch them up. If Babs thought the pace he set was too fast, he didn't leave her the breath to complain. Over the noise of their passage through the underbrush, he could hear the shouts of their pursuers.

They had less than two minutes head start. It would take the kidnappers that long to rally and get out the front door. The one doing the shooting would have to take a few seconds to explain what was going on. That wasn't going to give them much of a head start. His original plan would have to be scrapped. There was no way they could make it to his truck. They'd have to go to ground for a while.

He dodged around an enormous pine and threw himself into the midst of the overgrown rosebushes that he'd cursed such a short time before. The canes caught at his shirt, tearing loose as he continued forward, dragging his companion with him. He heard Babs gasp in pain and hoped she'd had the good sense to cover her face. He shoved her ahead of him, pushing her to her knees into a small hollow and dropping down beside her. His hand covered her mouth, pulling her close to his body, turning so that he was between her and their pursuers.

Babs's heart pounded in her chest. Beneath her cheek she could feel the heavy thud of her rescuer's heart. There was something reassuring about that steady beat. She closed her eyes, trying to slow her pulse. His palm was still over her mouth and she twisted her head slightly, trying to dislodge the grip. His fingers tightened for a moment and then slid away, but the arm around her back pulled her closer as if trying to absorb her into himself.

Babs knew what he was doing. This close to the trees it was still more dark than light. The pale blue of her shirt stood out like a beacon while his black clothing blended with the darkness. He was trying to block any possible view of her shirt from outside their fragile hiding place.

He shifted slightly, reaching backward and pulling out his gun. He brought the .45 out, holding it muzzle up, ready to bring it down and fire if necessary. Crushed against him as she was, Babs was mere inches from the weapon. She stared at the cold steel, wondering why she'd never noticed how truly dangerous a gun could look.

She shut her eyes again, turning her face into his shoulder. For the moment, there was nothing they could do but wait. Waiting had never been her favorite occupation. After ten days of sitting in the moldering hotel, waiting for her family to pay a ransom, waiting for the kidnappers to kill her, waiting for something—anything—to happen, this small space of time seemed to pass torturously slow.

Babs concentrated on her immediate surroundings, trying to shut out the sound of the kidnappers blundering around them. His shirt felt soft beneath her cheek. The knit stretched across his chest, letting her feel the bulge of muscle beneath. He smelled of soap and sweat, a combination that seemed uniquely masculine.

He tensed and her body jerked, as if struck, when one of the kidnappers walked within a few feet of their hiding place. The man was so close that she could hear his muttered curses when one of the rose canes caught at his clothing. He jerked loose, stopping less than three feet away to examine the damage to his shirt.

Babs forgot how to breathe. She could see Sam's fingers tighten around the clip of the automatic, edging it downward into a firing position. The kidnapper lifted his eyes from their examination of his torn shirt, but he didn't move on. He stood there, looking around, almost as if he sensed something. Babs shut her eyes. If she didn't look at him, maybe he wouldn't see them.

Just when it seemed certain that they would be discovered, there was a shout from another part of the property. The man turned and ran in the direction of the voice.

For several long moments, it was impossible to move. Sam continued to press her face into his chest, his eyes following the path the kidnapper had taken. Babs had to make a conscious effort to take a breath. When he finally eased his hold on her, it felt almost as if she was losing a part of herself.

"We've got to move. Here, put on my coat. It'll conceal that shirt. You might as well be wearing a neon sign." He shoved the coat into her hands while he shrugged into the small pack.

"Well, excuse me. Next time I'm kidnapped, I'll try to dress more appropriately."

"Next time you're kidnapped, you'd better hope any potential rescuers haven't heard that you've got a temper like a pit viper."

Babs shut her mouth with a snap, shrugging into the coat and zipping it to the throat. It completely covered her shirt. In fact, it almost completely covered her. Her rescuer was studying the area outside the shelter of the roses and she glared at his back.

"Where are we going?"

"I don't know. They're between us and my truck."

"What did you do, park your car in the old lot?"

"I parked it in the woods on the other side of the lot. It's concealed but I don't want to try to get to it with them stumbling around looking for us. We'll move away from it and find some place to hole up until tonight."

"Why did you park your car over there when I was being held in a room on this side of the building?"

Sam didn't bother to dignify the sarcastic question with an answer. His hand closed around her upper arm again. "Come on. Move as quietly as possible."

"Do I look like Hiawatha?"

"That includes keeping your mouth shut." He threw the order over his shoulder as he pulled her forward and out of the rose thicket.

Babs shut her mouth. She knew he was right. She wasn't usually so nasty, especially to someone who'd just helped her out of a very unpleasant situation. It was just nerves. Ten days of wondering if you were about to die was enough to ruin anyone's temperament.

He released her arm as soon as they were out of the tangle of thorny canes and she had the feeling that he was glad to let go of her. The thought irritated her. She studied his back as he walked ahead of her. Funny, she didn't even know what he looked like. She had a vague impression of dark hair and strong features, but nothing definite. He moved like an athlete. Even now, when his stride was tempered by the need for silence, there was an easy swing to his walk.

Sam Delanian. The name didn't ring any bells but then there was no reason why it should. It wasn't likely that her family had hired someone she knew. She didn't know anyone capable of mounting a rescue attempt. Except maybe her uncle Emmet and, as far as she knew, Emmet was in South America somewhere, researching a book.

They didn't travel far but the tension of waiting for discovery made it seem much farther. Babs's nerves were stretched tight with the effort to walk quietly. She'd never realized how difficult it was until now. The man ahead of her didn't seem to give any thought to where he was putting his feet and yet he didn't make a sound. She considered every step and still felt as if she made enough noise for ten people.

When he stopped, she felt clumsy and irritable. She'd had no sleep the night before because she was preparing for her escape. The previous nights had been restless, to say the least. It was hard to relax when you were aware that a man with a gun stood outside your door.

"We'll stay here for the rest of the day."

She looked around but could see no sign of a "here" that looked like a place to rest. "Are we going to squat in the bushes again?" The question held more acidity than she'd intended but she was too tired to care.

The muscles in his back tightened but he didn't turn to look at her. His arm came out, carefully brushing aside some thin bushes. Up a steep slope behind them was a shallow cave, little more than a hollow but big enough to conceal the two of them.

He gestured for her to go in and she scrambled up the incline before collapsing on the rocky floor of the small shelter. For the first time in ten days, she felt almost safe. At least she did until her companion followed her in. Looking up—a long way up—she met a pair of the bluest, most irritated eyes she'd ever seen.

"
Y
ou are, without exception, the most obnoxious, spoiled little brat it has ever been my misfortune to meet."

"Well, you're no prince of charm yourself." Babs straightened her shoulders defensively as Sam sank down next to her. The hollow was bigger than it had looked from outside but he seemed to fill it with wide shoulders and long legs.

Babs was uneasily aware that her behavior thus far had been less than exemplary but she felt crowded, physically, mentally and emotionally. The past week and a half had strained her admittedly limited reserves of control and patience.

"If you can't take the pressure, you shouldn't have taken the job."

Sam glanced up from stripping off his gloves, his vivid blue eyes full of annoyance. "What job?"

"This job." One small hand swept out in an impatient gesture. "The job of rescuing me, getting me away from those goons. That job. The one my family hired you to do."

Sam arched one brow as he tucked the gloves into his pack. "Nobody hired me to do anything."

Babs's fine brows, which were several shades darker than her shaggy blond hair, drew together. "If my family didn't hire you to rescue me, what are you doing here?"

"There's a reward. Fifty thousand dollars."

"A reward? You rescued me because of a reward?" Her upper lip quivered in a faint sneer.

Sam's grin held an edge. "That's right. But if I'd known what an obnoxious little pain in the butt you were going to turn out to be, I don't think I'd have done it for twice the reward. As it is, I had to leave a perfectly good rope hanging from that balcony. I may tack the cost of that rope onto the reward. I should have left you with the kidnappers for a couple more days. I bet they'd have been willing to pay your family to get rid of you."

Her eyes darkened to the color of bitter chocolate and her full mouth tightened. "I overheard them planning to kill me as soon as they got their money. That's why I was going to try to escape."

In the moment before she glanced away, Sam saw real vulnerability. A vulnerability that she tried to hide. With a sigh, he reminded himself that she'd been through an awful lot. Being kidnapped and overhearing your own death sentence would be enough to spoil anyone's good temper. He had doubts that Babs Malone had a good temper, but he was trying to give her the benefit of the doubt.

"You'd have been as good as dead with those stupid sheets. That trick doesn't work even in the movies."

"Well, I had to try something."

"Yeah, I suppose you did. Lucky I came along. By the way, why did you jump me when I came over the balcony? It wasn't too likely that I was one of the kidnappers."

She shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I've gotten a bit edgy lately."

"Edgy? You damn near pushed me off the balcony. Not to mention the fact that I could have really decked you."

She shrugged again. "Sorry."

Twigs and leaves littered the floor of the cave and Sam began gathering a small pile of them together. He was aware of his companion watching him out of the corners of her eyes and he wondered what she was thinking. He didn't look at her. Right now he had more important things to think about than the moods and thoughts of a spoiled heiress.

"I didn't plan on getting stuck away from my truck like this so I don't have a whole lot with me, but I've got some soup. That will have to hold us until this evening."

"Thank you."

"For the soup? Don't mention it. I could use something myself. Lurking in the roses all night works up an amazing appetite." He dug through his pack, pulling out a lighter, a foldable aluminum pan and some packages of dry soup.

"I meant thank you for rescuing me." Sam glanced up, his eyes meeting hers. He'd never seen eyes quite that color. They were brown but not an ordinary brown. They were the smooth rich color of milk chocolate. Framed by thick curving lashes, they were the kind of eyes a man could fall into if he were susceptible. But Sam wasn't susceptible. Not in the least.

"You're welcome." He picked up the soup packages and tossed them to her, looking away to avoid the seductive pull of her eyes. "Make yourself useful and open these while I start the fire. There's a bit of a breeze and this stuff is pretty dry. I don't think there'll be enough smoke to give us away.''

He bent over the small pile of twigs, coaxing them to catch and then feeding the tiny flame until the fire was burning steadily. He poured water out of his canteen into the aluminum pan and set it on the fire. Looking up, he found Babs still struggling with the paper pouches. Exasperated, he reached over and took them from her.

Good Lord. He hadn't expected a pampered woman to be a Daniel Boone in the woods but surely any moderately intelligent individual could open a packet of soup. What did she do when she didn't have servants around to feed her? Starve?

Sam dumped the contents of the package into the simmering water and was about to crumple the envelope when something caught his attention. The white paper was marred by rusty stains, an unmistakable tint. With a curse, he dropped the empty packet and grabbed her hands. Ignoring her attempt to pull away, he tugged her hands toward him, turning them palm up.

In the dim light that filtered into their hideaway, the abrasions on her palms looked angry and painful. Sam sucked in a quick breath in sympathy.

"How the hell did you manage this?" Still holding one of her hands, he reached for his pack and rummaged around until he came up with a tube of antiseptic cream.

"I did it on your precious rope. And don't act like it's any concern of— That's cold!" She broke off in mid-sentence as the creamy salve hit her scraped palms.

"Sorry." Sam swallowed a pang of guilt. He hadn't considered her unprotected hands when he'd all but thrown her over the balcony. Not that he'd had much choice. With an armed kidnapper just across the room they'd had to make a quick exit, and scraped hands were a lot better than a bullet in the head. Still, he should have considered it once they were out of danger.

He finished applying the salve and wrapped strips of gauze over her palms, cutting through the bandage with the knife that was strapped against his calf. Grudgingly, he upped his opinion of her a notch. Maybe she had a few good qualities besides those incredibly soft eyes.

"There. That should hold them." He released her hands, refusing to acknowledge the way his fingers wanted to linger against her soft skin. "Try not to do any more damage to yourself. I didn't bring much by way of first aid."

"Thanks." Babs watched as he pulled the pot off the fire and tipped the soup into a collapsible cup. Her mouth watered as the scent wafted upward. For the first time in ten days she could eat without the feeling that this might be her last meal. She reached for the mug he was holding out for her and then hesitated.

"What about you? There's only one cup."

"Take it." He pushed it into her hands. "I'll eat after you're done. I'd have brought something more substantial but I figured we'd be on our way to town by now."

Babs sipped at the steaming liquid, feeling its warmth seep into her bones, chasing out the chill that had settled inside her since the kidnapping. She hadn't realized just how tense she'd been until the pressure was lifted. She yawned, suddenly aware of exhaustion creeping over her.

She swallowed the last of the soup, smothering another yawn as she handed the cup to her companion. Sam took it and handed her a light blanket.

"Get some sleep. We can't go anywhere until dark."

Babs took the blanket, her mouth tightening at his tone. She'd never been one to take orders well. A yawn caught her unawares, smothering any argument she might have given him. With a shrug, she unfolded the thin cover and moved farther back into their shelter. Time enough to protest his autocratic tone when she'd had some sleep.

Sam watched her curl up, tucking her hands under her cheek as a pillow. She was asleep almost instantly, her breathing slow and shallow. She'd be out of his hair for a little while at least.

He poured the rest of the soup into the cup. His stomach pointed out that steak and eggs would be more appropriate at this point but he ignored the suggestion. It wasn't the first time he'd gone hungry and it probably wouldn't be the last. Unless, of course, he did the smart thing and got a real job.

He swallowed the last of the soup and set down the cup. If he had a real job, he wouldn't be sitting in this poor excuse for a cave staring out at the Idaho countryside. A wet Idaho countryside. It had started to rain, not a downpour, but a steady mist that coated the landscape in jewellike droplets of moisture.

Of course, if he had a real job, the girl sleeping so peacefully behind him might be dead by now. She'd never have made it off the balcony with those absurd sheets and, if that didn't kill her, her captors apparently would have. She was a spoiled brat but he admired her guts.

Sam leaned back against the rock wall of the cave. With the drizzle outside, he didn't have to worry about the small amount of smoke their little fire created. It would dissipate in the damp air. The chances of the kidnappers finding them were slim to none so he could afford to relax a bit. Most likely, her former captors wouldn't spend much time looking for them. They'd probably cut their losses and hightail it out of the state as quickly as possible.

He fed a few small sticks into the fire. Unwillingly, his eyes were drawn to Babs. She looked very young in sleep. Young and sweet and innocent. Almost childlike. But there was nothing childlike in the full curve of her mouth. Her mouth looked very kissable. A temptation he didn't want to acknowledge.

He dragged his eyes away, staring into the fire instead. She was a job, just another job. Maybe his last. Maybe after this he'd do what any sensible man would have done years ago and he'd go to work like a grownup.

Babs slept for several hours, making up for the last week and a half when she'd had to wonder if every night would be her last. Sam watched her more than he cared to admit. He dozed off and on, making up for the sleepless hours he'd spent the night before. There was no sign of movement in the damp landscape beyond the cave. Nothing to think about except the future and his companion. He thought about her a great deal more than he thought about his future.

A great deal more than he should have.

When Babs stirred it was midafternoon. Sam glanced up as her eyelids flickered. She stretched, groaning as her muscles protested the hard surface she'd been lying on. Sam tried not to notice the smooth line of her body, the way her breasts pressed against her shirt. She wasn't doing anything to attract attention, which made it all the more irritating to find that he couldn't drag his eyes away.

She opened her eyes and stared at the rock wall above her for a moment. With a sigh, she sat up and Sam wondered if she'd been hoping that she'd wake up and find this all a dream. Who could blame her?

"Did I sleep long?" She ran her fingers through her hair, combing it into place. It was a testament to the skill of her hairdresser that the shaggy, casual cut fell into place, framing her features with elfin charm.

"A few hours." Sam dragged his eyes away, feeding a few twigs into the fire. "You needed the rest and there was nothing else to do."

"Too bad you didn't bring a game of Trivial Pursuit." She folded up the blanket and moved closer to the fire.

"Next time I go on a rescue mission, I'll be sure to include that."

"Do you go on a lot of rescue missions? I don't even know what you do for a living or how you came to find me. You said my family didn't hire you."

"That's right. They offered a reward for information leading to your whereabouts. I figured the reward would be just as valid if I brought you home as it would be if I just found you."

"I'll make sure you get your reward." Irritation laced her husky voice and Sam arched a black brow. Clearly, the idea that he wanted the reward didn't please her.

"Thanks."

They were silent for a moment and then Babs spoke again, her tone determinedly polite. "So, what do you do for a living when you're not finding kidnap victims?"

"I find things. You want some coffee? I've got some instant here."

"Sure." She waited until he'd put the water on to boil before pursuing the conversation. "You find things? What kinds of things and for whom?"

"Most anything for most anybody. If somebody loses something, I'll try to find it for them. Sometimes it's a painting that's been stolen, or a car. Sometimes it's a person they once knew and lost track of. I've even tracked down a couple of missing pets."

Babs reached for the cup he held out. "You're a private detective."

"No, not exactly. I don't have the license for it, for one thing. And I don't do divorces or deliver summonses. I just find things. For a fee."

Babs took a sip of the coffee, her eyes thoughtful. "Doesn't sound like a very reliable way to earn a living."

"I've done all right. I don't have a family to support so I don't have to worry quite so much about a steady job."

"So you run a lost and found department."

Sam smiled, his eyes crinkling. "I guess that's as good a description as any."

"I still don't understand how you found me. This old hotel is off the beaten track. I'd forgotten we even owned it."

Sam took the empty cup from her and filled it with the remaining coffee in the pan. "Next time I decide to rescue a kidnapped heiress, I'll have to remember to