Lost and Found (7 page)

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"Ouch! Dammit, that hurts."

"Don't be such a baby." Babs dabbed the cotton swab gently on the scrape that skidded along his rib cage.

"It's easy for you to say. No one is dropping battery acid in your open wounds."

She ignored Sam's muttered complaints. "Do you think any of your ribs are cracked or broken or anything?" She sat back on her heels next to the bed and looked at him, her eyes dark with concern.

"My ribs are just fine except they hurt like hell."

"Maybe we should find a doctor. If you've got a broken rib..."

Sam opened his eyes and looked at her. "Babs, my ribs are not broken. They're not even cracked. Believe me. I've had cracked ribs before. I'm bruised and that's all."

She looked doubtful, her slightly gamine face puckered with worry. Sam surprised himself by reaching out to touch his fingers to her cheek. "Don't worry about me. My pride is hurt more than anything else."

Babs leaned her face into his hand for just an instant before drawing away and turning her attention to the scrape on his cheekbone. "But you were terrific. If it hadn't been three to one, you'd have demolished them."

Sam laughed, the sound ending in a groan as his bruised ribs protested. "You were pretty terrific yourself. You looked like you knew what you were doing with that gun."

"I do. Uncle Emmet taught me to shoot when I was twelve."

"Remind me to thank Emmet." He sucked in his breath as the antiseptic burned. Babs stopped and looked at him.

"Does it hurt terribly?" Sam stared into her eyes, feeling as if he could drown in their chocolate depths. She was so close. Her fingers on his cheek felt cool and soothing.

"It doesn't hurt at all," he lied, still looking at her.

"You know, you really were magnificent."

He smiled, his battered face protesting the movement. "All I did was get beat up."

The moment stretched with neither of them quite willing to break it. Something indefinable hovered in the air—awareness, attraction, desire—things neither of them wanted to acknowledge. Babs wondered how it was possible for his eyes to be so blue. It was like looking at the ocean, full of depths, full of promise—and dangers. Outside the motel, a car door slammed and they heard the shrill voices of children as a family arrived. The sounds broke the strange tension and Babs looked away, staring at the first-aid kit as if seeing it for the first time.

"Good thing you had this in the truck." She busied herself with packing everything away, making sure every item was in precisely the right place. That done, she stood up and looked around the room.

"At least we've got two beds tonight." At Sam's comment, her gaze settled on him and then skittered away.

"I've been thinking about it and I think I should call my family. Someone is bound to be home by now and I ought to let them know that I'm safe. As soon as I tell them where I am, they can send someone to come up and get us."

"I don't think that's such a good idea." Sam dragged himself upward until he was more or less sitting, his back braced against the headboard.

"I'll make sure you get your money, even if you don't officially deliver me." Her voice held more than a hint of resentment. Sam thrust his fingers through his hair.

Maybe he should have told her the truth last night but it had seemed like such a good idea to think about it.

"It's not the money."

"I thought that's what you were in this for. I mean, after all, that's why you rescued me. You don't have to feel guilty about it. You did a job and you should get paid for it."

"Would you shut up for a minute?"

Babs stared at him, opened her mouth and then shut it again. Sam waited to be sure that he had the floor.

"I lied to you last night. I did get through to your family."

"You talked to them? Why didn't you tell me? What did they say? Who did you talk to?"

He stared at her, wondering just how to phrase what he had to say. How did you tell someone that her own family was part of a kidnapping plot? He ran his fingers through his hair again, his gaze wandering over the room, searching for inspiration.

"I... talked to your Aunt Bertie and your Aunt Do-die."

"God, you got the full works, didn't you? From airhead to hardnose all in one conversation. What did they say? I don't understand why you didn't tell me about this."

He reached out, catching her hand and tugging until she sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. He kept hold of her hand, meeting her eyes with his and hating what he had to say.

"Your family paid those men to kidnap you."

The words came out stark and unadorned but there was no other way to say it. She stared at him, her eyes going from questioning to blank disbelief in an instant. She started to speak, words of denial pushing to get out and then saw the regret in his eyes. She looked away but not before he saw the hurt that darkened her eyes to almost black. Her lower lip quivered for an instant before being caught between her teeth. She stared at the cracked green lamp that sat next to the bed. Her fingers stiffened in his and then drew away. She didn't get up but he could feel her pulling away, drawing into herself, shutting the door on the hurt.

She shrugged. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. We had quite a dustup a few days before the kidnapping." She was silent for a moment. "You know, we've never been close but I didn't think... I mean, I'd never have expected this. Not really anyone's idea of a happy family, are we?" Her laugh cracked in the middle but the set of her chin forbade him to offer her comfort.

Sam stared at her helplessly. He could feel her pain as if it were his own. He wanted to say something, offer some consolation, but there was really nothing to be said.

She straightened her shoulders, her chin setting. When her eyes met his, they were a little too bright but the glitter in them defied sympathy.

"Damn them. I know exactly what this is all about. Damn them. Damn them. Damn them. I spent a week and a half thinking I was going to die at any minute." She shot to her feet, her hurt and anger too great to allow her to sit still. "They've gone too far this time. I've made excuses for them before but this time they've gone too far. They had no right. No right at all." Her voice broke and he thought he saw her chin quiver before she looked away. Her spine was rigid, her small frame taut with pain.

"Babs, I—"

"Well, they're not going to get away with it this time. I'm going to rub their noses in this one. And they've seen the last penny they'll ever see from me. Let them learn to live on their own money. Are you up to traveling?"

"Why?" Sam had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly why.

"Because, if we get started right away, I can be home by late tonight. Nothing would make me happier than to roust the whole rotten bunch of them out of bed and tell them they just killed the bird that laid the golden eggs."

"I don't think that's such a good idea. After our encounter with those thugs this morning, there's a good chance they're still looking for us and I don't think they're going to be any friendlier."

Babs waved her hand dismissively. "They aren't that serious. My family may have wanted me out of the way for a while but they don't want me hurt. Those men have been well paid to make sure I'm okay."

Sam closed his eyes, feeling every ache in his body throb in sympathy with the headache that was starting behind his eyes. Babs was pacing back and forth and he could all but see the wheels of her mind turning. She wanted revenge. He couldn't blame her for that. To be honest, he wouldn't have minded a bit of healthy revenge himself. But they had to be sensible.

He opened his eyes and looked at Babs and gave a silent sigh. Somehow she didn't look in a sensible mood. Her steps carried her from one wall to the other. Her eyes glittered with anger and her lips moved occasionally, as if she were rehearsing diatribes that would leave her family in shreds.

"Babs. The bullets those men were firing were real. They could have put a hole in one of us as easily as the window. I think something is going on here that we need to think about a little more carefully." He might as well have been talking to himself.

"If you're not up to traveling, would you mind if I borrowed your truck? I can send someone for you first thing in the morning. You'll be all right here alone, won't you?"

"As a matter of fact, I would mind if you borrowed my truck. I don't need you to send someone for me in the morning and I have no intention of spending the night here alone."

She barely glanced at him. "Then I'll call a cab or rent a car. I can't just sit here."

Sam reached out, catching her wrist and pulling her to a stop. She tugged on her hand, her eyes wild with hurt anger. Sam ignored her attempts to get loose and pulled her down onto the bed next to him, waiting until her eyes met his.

"Listen to me. You're in danger. Whether you want to admit it or not, those men are playing for keeps. They're not boys out for a romp in the park. They're professionals. They were trying to kill me this morning and I think they might have killed you.

"Now, if you take one step out of this room, there's not a damned thing I can do to protect you. I'm just too beat. But I promise you this: If they don't get you first, I'm going to beat the holy hell out of you when I catch you."

She stared at him, her eyes startled. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"Every word."

He waited, knowing that if she decided to leave, he'd kill himself following her. She didn't say anything for a long moment, her eyes searching the blue of his. To his surprise, her chin quivered slightly and her eyes filled with bright tears.

"No one has ever cared enough to threaten me."

The absurd statement should have made him laugh. Instead, it caused a sharp catch in his chest. Odd that he knew exactly what she meant. His face softened and his hand gentled on her wrist.

"I care." The words were said without thinking but he wouldn't have taken them back. He did care. Under the spoiled brat, he saw an achingly lonely little girl who'd lost her parents, her grandfather, her world. Somehow, he didn't think it had ever quite been put back together again.

His hand slid up her arm, the silk of her shirt sliding smoothly beneath his fingertips. Babs watched him, offering no protest as his hands slid into the thick hair at her nape. Her lashes drooped as he tugged her downward.

He intended the kiss to comfort, a little human warmth to try to ease some of her pain. He didn't plan on anything more. After all, he admired her guts but he wasn't sure he liked her.

Her mouth was surprisingly soft and warm. Her hair slid through his fingers like watered silk, heavy, rich, inviting. The texture of the kiss changed almost without him realizing it. The fullness of her lower lip invited the touch of his tongue. Her mouth opened almost shyly to his. He brought his other hand up, flattening his palm on her back, feeling the ridge of her spine through her shirt.

Desire caught him unaware. He tasted the softness of her mouth and he wanted more. Her hair swung forward as she leaned above him and he wanted to feel it against his chest. Her breasts pressed ever so lightly against him and he wanted to feel their weight in his hands.

His hold tightened on her, his tongue thrusting past the barrier of her teeth to tangle with hers. Her response was tantalizingly shy but hungry. The combination only made him want her more.

He lifted her, drawing her closer and his battered body protested. He groaned involuntarily and Babs jerked away, her face flushed, her eyes bright with some emotion he couldn't quite read. She looked at him and then away.

"You ought to get some rest." She stood up, smoothing her palms over her jeans, looking anywhere but at him. "Are you hungry?"

"Starved." Sam's tone said that he wasn't talking about food and her flush deepened.

"I'll see what we can get by way of take-out."

"Does this mean you're not going to try to leave tonight?"

She glanced at him, her expression unreadable. Sam held his breath, waiting for her answer.

"I'll stay. Maybe you're right about those men really trying to hurt me. Besides, I couldn't leave you here alone."

Sam didn't care why she stayed. All he cared about was that she'd be reasonably safe for tonight. In the morning he'd have a better idea of what their next move should be. In the morning his desire for her would be an obvious case of propinquity.

In the morning a lot of things might happen.

W
hen Babs awoke the next morning, Sam was already up and more-or-less dressed. He'd only managed to shrug into half his shirt and he was muttering to himself as he fished around for the other sleeve. She lay still, watching him. During the njght the bruises on his ribs had turned a rather colorful shade of purple, but they did nothing to detract from his smooth tanned skin and corded muscles.

His searching hand found the sleeve and he shrugged into the other half of the shirt, his movements stiff. He turned, as if sensing that she was awake. Their eyes met, sleepy brown and electric blue. Unspoken lay the memory of the kiss they'd shared. Unconsciously, Babs's tongue flicked out, wetting her lower lip in a nervous gesture. Sam's gaze flickered to her mouth, and was as warm and potent as a kiss. The tension stretched between them.

Sam was the first to break the silence. "How did you sleep?"

Babs dragged her eyes from his, sitting up in bed and shoving her hair out of her eyes. "Okay, I guess. How well are you supposed to sleep after finding out that your own family had you kidnapped?"

"I don't know. You'd probably have to ask Emily Post."

He fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, his bruised hands awkward. Babs swung her legs out of bed and stood up, tugging uneasily at the bottom of Sam's shirt. Funny how it had seemed to be a perfectly adequate covering until now. She hovered next to the bed, torn between her common sense, which told her to go put on her own clothes, and her compassion, which urged her to help him with his buttons.

"Here. Let me help you with those."

Sam watched her, his eyes wary as she crossed over the few feet that separated them and pushed his hands aside. Her fingers brushed against the mat of black hair that covered his chest. Babs fumbled with the buttons, feeling as clumsy as he had been, only she didn't have the excuse of bruises. She could feel his eyes watching her and it brought a deliciously nervous feeling.

"You really aren't very big, are you?" They were so close that his breath stirred her hair.

"Five foot and a half inch."

"A half inch?"

"Well, it may be only a quarter but I like to give myself the benefit of the doubt." She slid the last button through the proper buttonhole and looked up at him, her smile mischievous. "When you're short, you've got to take advantage of every fraction."

"I can imagine." Sam murmured the words, his eyes on her face. Her hair was tousled wildly around her delicate features, she didn't have on a trace of makeup, she was wearing a wrinkled shirt that was miles too big for her and he couldn't remember when he'd seen a more attractive woman.

He reached up to brush her hair back, seeing the way her eyes widened at the casual gesture. One of her hands still rested against his chest. The light pressure seemed to leave an imprint on his skin.

He dropped his hand, stepping away, feeling as if he were backing off from temptation. "The water at this motel is a lot hotter than the last one. At least it was half an hour ago."

The hint was impossible to ignore. Babs turned and picked up her clothes, feeling half hurt and half relieved. Sam Delanian confused her. He brought out feelings in her that Babs didn't understand and wasn't sure she wanted to face. Maybe some of the confusion would wash away in a hot shower.

If the shower didn't solve all her problems, it did leave her feeling better able to face them. The way Sam made her feel was perfectly understandable when she put it in context. The man had saved her life more than once. It was only natural that she was grateful. But it wouldn't do to confuse gratitude with anything else.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, her hair fell in shaggy waves around her face, her expression was set with determination and her clothes were as neat as was possible, considering she'd been wearing them for several days. She was ready to face the world, her family and Sam Delanian, not necessarily in that order.

The television was on, the sound of bells and whistles announcing a game show even before she saw the picture. Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes on the screen but his thoughts clearly elsewhere. He glanced up as she stepped out of the bathroom, his eyes sweeping over her. Babs had to remind herself that the funny little blip in her heartbeat was caused by gratitude.

"We'll do some shopping today. We both need a change of clothes." He reached out and snapped off the television in the midst of some woman's screams of ecstasy over a prize she'd just won.

"I have plenty of clothes at home."

"We're not heading back to Montecito. At least not quite yet."

"Why not? I think it's time I faced my family. I don't want them thinking they can get away with kidnapping me every time I threaten to do something they don't like."

"Just what did you threaten to do?"

Babs hesitated, all her aunt's training telling her that you never discussed family matters with outsiders. But then, Sam could hardly be called an outsider. She sat down on the other bed, studying the worn carpet under her feet.

"They sold fake works of art to Eduardo Stefanoni." She hurried the words out, not looking at him.

There was a moment's silence and then Sam whistled, a long, low sound of disbelief. "From what I've heard of Stefanoni, he's not the type to shrug that off."

"No. I didn't think so either. My family can be...rather naive." She felt herself flushing, embarrassed by what her family had done, humiliated by the need to try to explain the unexplainable. How could she tell him that her family thought that being a Malone gave you the right to do anything you wanted and the rest of the world just had to like it?

"Downright stupid might be a better description." Sam was more blunt.

Babs nodded unhappily, wishing she could argue. "I didn't find out until after the sale had gone through and I tried to explain to them that Mr. Stefanoni was not going to be happy but I don't think I got through to them."

"So why would they have you kidnapped? I don't see what good that would do them.''

She scuffed her foot on the carpet, still without looking at him. "I think they wanted to keep me out of the way until Stefanoni goes back to Italy. They had some idea that once he took the paintings back to Italy, he wouldn't find out they were fakes. I told them that if they didn't go to Stefanoni and tell him what they'd done and give him the real paintings, I was going to talk to Finney."

"Who's Finney?"

"Finney, Finney, Finney and Smythe? He's the first Finney. They've been the family law firm for ages. Practically since time began."

"So what would Finney of Finney, Finney and Smythe do?"

"You forgot a Finney. Under the terms of my greatgrandfather's will, if the family sells off any of the art he bought back in the dark ages, for any reason except starvation, the entire estate will be broken up and given to charity. The paintings they sold to Stefanoni were copies of works that my great-grandfather bought. If Finney finds out what they've done, under the terms of the will, it might be enough to break up the estate, especially if they had to give the real things to Stefanoni."

"But why would you risk going to Finney? You'd lose everything, too."

"No. My money comes from my grandfather and it's separate from the rest of the family money. I've received an allowance from it since I was a child and on my twenty-fifth birthday, I inherit the whole thing." She sounded depressed by the idea and Sam wondered what it would be like to have so much money that the thought of it was depressing.

She heaved a sigh and looked at him. "You see why I have to go back right away."

"No. Actually, I see just the opposite. There was more to this than just kidnapping you to keep you out of the way. It may have started out that way but somewhere along the line things changed. Those men yesterday were trying to kill me and you overheard them planning to kill you. That's more than your basic kidnapping."

"There must have been a mistake somewhere." Her eyes were dark with distress and Sam had to suppress the urge to sit down beside her and put his arms around her and tell her that everything was going to be all right.

"Maybe. But, until we find out whose mistake it was, I think we should lay low and think about our next move. I don't know about you, but I'm not all that fond of getting beat up and shot at."

Babs stood up and shoved her hands in her back pockets, her back to him. "You think my family wants me dead, don't you?" Her voice was low and strained, the attractive huskiness deepening.

"I don't think anything at all right now. All I know is that we ought to find out what's going on before we go waltzing into a potentially dangerous situation. We need someplace where it will be safe to stay for a few days and give the whole situation some thought."

She didn't say anything for a minute and he stared at her silently, knowing how hard this was for her. He was asking her to trust him, to do what he thought was best. He was also asking her to accept the possibility that she might be in danger because of her family. After a long moment, her shoulders lifted in a shrug and she turned to face him, her face set.

"All right. I'll go along with this. For a while anyway."

Sam nodded, accepting her decision calmly, as if he'd never had any doubts about her seeing it his way.

"Okay, the first thing we need to do is get some clothes and then find some transportation."

"What's wrong with your truck?"

"The guys who kidnapped you obviously know what it looks like. I want to find someplace to hide for a few days and I don't want them picking up our trail. The truck would make it too easy."

Babs sat down on the edge of the bed, her brow wrinkled as she considered the problem. "Why don't we just buy another car?"

Sam stared at her. In one sentence, she'd summed up the gap between them. For Babs Malone, buying a car was no big deal. She probably didn't give it much more thought than he'd give to buying a new pair of shoes. The reminder of their differences was irritating.

"There's only one problem that I can see with that."

She looked at him, eyes wide and questioning.

"Money. Cars cost money. Generally lots of it. I didn't bring that kind of money. Hell, I don't even have that kind of money."

"That's no problem. I can just call up my bank and they'll transfer the money to a bank here and then we can buy a car." She was clearly pleased with having found a simple solution to their transportation difficulties.

"Sure. Great idea. We're trying to lay low and keep out of sight. Every fruitcake in the country is looking for you for that fifty-thousand-dollar reward. So you're just going to waltz into the local savings and loan and announce that you're the kidnapped Malone heiress and you'd like to have a few thou transferred from your bank account and could they arrange it please?"

Babs flushed at the bite in his tone and drew herself up a bit stiffly. "Fine. You're so brilliant. You think of something."

"Thank you, I will."

The silence that settled over the room was thick with indignation. Sam looked at her and then looked away. She looked like a child who'd been unfairly punished. Her chin was set but her eyes held an edge of hurt. Not that it was his problem. He hadn't done anything out of line. Nothing at all. He glanced at her again. She was staring at her fingernails with such an air of deliberate unconcern that he almost smiled.

"Oh, hell. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped like that. We've got enough problems without snapping at each other."

She looked at him from under her lashes, judging his sincerity. She must have been satisfied with what she saw because she smiled shyly and shrugged. "I suppose it was a pretty dumb suggestion.''

"Just a little naive." His smile took any possible sting out of the words.

"What about a credit card? We could rent a car with a credit card." She looked so pleased with herself that Sam hated to discourage her. He shook his head.

"Credit cards leave a paper trail. Since we don't know what's going on, I'd rather be as inconspicuous as possible."

"Oh." She frowned and Sam forgot to do anything more than watch her think through their problem. She shoved her fingers through her hair, pushing it back off her face for a moment. The instant she released it, it fell back, framing her eyes in a way that he was beginning to find irresistible.

She smiled suddenly, her eyes meeting his delightedly. "You could steal a car. You know how, don't you?" It didn't seem to occur to her that he might be insulted by her assumption that he knew how to steal cars. He grinned, unable to resist the image of her creeping along behind him while he jimmied locks and hot-wired cars.

"As a matter of fact, I do know how to steal a car but I don't think it's such a good idea."

"Why not? Those thugs wouldn't be able to trace it and you said we needed transportation." The illegality of it didn't seem to occur to her.

Sam's grin widened. "The police frown on such things. I have a feeling your family wouldn't be too thrilled to get a call from the local jail to come and bail you out."

Babs stared at him for a moment and then her eyes began to sparkle with pure mischief. "I hadn't thought of the police. It would almost be worth getting arrested just to see Aunt Dodie's face."

"From my one brief conversation with the woman I can understand your sentiments, but I don't think stealing a car is a good idea."

"Well, then what are we going to do?"

"I don't know yet. First thing, let's check out of here and see if there's someplace we can pick up a change of clothes and then we'll go get some food. By that time, I'll think of something."