Night Moves (16 page)

"Oh?" He started to draw lazy circles high on her thigh, moving intimately close.

"Those...pictures I took." She started as the casual graze on her flesh traveled to her inner thigh.

"Yes?The pictures?"

"I want them back, Lee. I owe you so much more. I can take a new set--"

His left hand stayed on her thigh. His right began to caress the base of her throat. "You want the pictures back, is that it, Bryn?"

"Yes. I was being rather obnoxious that day, and I..." He was making it impossible to concentrate. "I think it influenced my work. I think I could do much better...for you."

"It's nice of you...to be concerned."

He lowered his head and kissed her again. She returned the kiss with all the emotion she could, stroking his cheek, edgy, but willing herself not to fight the intimacy of his hands. She explored the sensual line of his lips with the tip of her tongue,then joined him again in a passionate meeting of their mouths that allowed her hunger to soar with his.

They were both breathless as they broke apart, their arms laced around each other.

"Can I...take the pictures back, Lee?" she begged with a sultry look.

His eyes were on her, gleaming a cat gold. He smoothed a straying hair tenderly from her cheek. "How badly do you want them?"

"What?" Bryn whispered.

He chuckled, a husky sound that meant many things. It was teasing... and a little sinister. And even a little exciting. And so dangerously insinuating that she knew she could do nothing but stall for time.

"You heard me, Bryn." He was smiling as if it were all a sexual game, nothing more.But a serious game.

She had thought she could seduce him just so far, have her way with a winning smile and sultry kisses.

She had never expected to reach this point. But she had, and it seemed as if her body was inwardly torn, shaken with electrical charges. What should she do? What should she say? She had always known that she could want him; she was learning now that she liked him, was fascinated by him.

She lowered her lashes quickly. She had to have the pictures. She would do anything to obtain them.

That was real; it was a fact. But wasn't there more that she would also have to admit? That it would be no great noble act, no sacrifice. She would be able to...know him, explore the mystical, fulfill her secret desires--and still, in her heart and mind, fall back on the belief that she'd had no choice.

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"Bryn?"

She laughed as he had, so nervous that it was a sultry breath of air, a bantering... a teasing.

"Lee...does it matter?" She touched his chin tenderly with one nail. "Events will take their course, no matter what we say or do. But I would like to have those pictures.Very badly. Will you give them to me?

I'll--" For a minute she didn't think she could go through with it. Her turmoil was too great. He was too close to her, touching her; but though the touch was tender, she knew there was an underlying male strength and power that could sweep her away and leave her heart bruised and battered on a distant shore. And would she deserve any more? She was--despite the sensual laughter and banter--selling herself .

Did any of that matter, she screamed in silent impatience. The pictures mattered; her nephews mattered; her peace of mind and possibly her health mattered. The children's health...

"I'll do any thing... for the pictures," she said clearly, as sweetly and as sensually as she could.

He picked up her hands. He kissed them both. His eyes met hers, and he smiled. "Lee...?"

"No," he said bluntly. "What?" she gasped. He dropped her hands, setting her free from him with a swift movement, and stood, arms crossed over his chest as he confronted her.

"You heard me--no. I don't believe you're 'concerned' for a second. The charade's over. I don't know what this is all about, and since it seems you're not going to tell me, you're not going to use sex to back out on a business deal." The cat-gold gleam swept over herassessingly . "The prize is tempting, my love, but I'm afraida bartered bedding is not quite good enough."

She stared at him a second, a myriad of emotions racing through her.

Rage won out. She'd made an absolute fool of herself--for nothing!

"You bastard!You egotistical bastard!"

She was on her feet and he thought it only natural that she would try to strike him. He was ready, and caught her flying fist.

"When you want me, Bryn, come back."

"Hell will freeze over first!" she promised, wrenching her wrist away. She spun blindly to leave and tripped over the sofa. He tried to help her, but she slapped his hand away.

He chuckled softly. "Maybe hell will freeze over," he told her with a mocking tone.

"Never!I hope you rot. I hope you die. I hope your fans tear you into little pieces and feed you to the vultures--"

"I get your drift, Bryn."

He was standing before the rack of arrows, golden eyes narrowed,hands firmly on his hips--the total image of masculine power and danger--when she slammed out the front door, still cursing like crazy. In
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the car, she burst into tears as the wheels spun, sending the gravel flying.

Bryn spent the fifteen minutes it took her to drive home alternating between rage and despair.

What was she going to do now? When the damned whisperer called again, she would have to say that she had tried everything, and if the pictures were so important, Condor was the man that they had to be gotten from. It was that simple.

She should have called the police.At the very beginning. Spared herself the fear and the anguish and the aggravation and the...

Humiliation of this disastrous evening!

He had known from the beginning that she wanted something.From the very beginning. And he had played her along, picked up on her game with the same smooth expertise with which he played the drums. Letting her come to him, back off, come again, knowing all the while that he didn't intend to give her a thing.

Damn him! She had made a fool of herself, made something worse of herself with her sexual bargaining.

And she didn't even have the pictures!

She screeched the van into the driveway,then sat, shaking, at the wheel, stunned to find herself actually home already. It was a good thing she knewLake Tahoelike the back of her hand. Instinct had brought her home.

Deep breaths, Bryn, she told herself silently. And calm down. You have to go inside and speak with Barbara calmly, as if nothing in the world is going on.

She had grabbed her bag, but her wrap was still at Condor's.Small loss. She felt like burning the dress she was wearing.

Don't slam the door, Bryn! Don't. The kids are asleep. Come up with a nice wide smile for Barbara; tell her you had a few drinks and a nice evening.

It wasn't until she was actually at the door that a frown began to spread its way across her brow.

The porch light wasn't on. Barbara was a fanatic about the porch light--much more so than Bryn.

Anytime she went out, Barbara put the light on. Muggers, Barb was convinced, would be far more prone to attack in the darkness than if a glaring light was burning.

Bryn forgot about Lee as she fumbled to fit her key in the lock. The door swung inward, and she paused, puzzled.

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She could hear the television set. The parlor light was on, as was the kitchen light. Everything appeared to be normal. She could even see Barb's feet propped up at the end of the couch.

"Barb?" Bryn called softly.

There was no reply. Tentatively Bryn stepped into the house and tiptoed over to the sofa. Barbara was lying there, apparently comfortable as she stretched out. But she appeared to be a little pale, and she had to be sleeping soundly not to have heard Bryn yet.

"Barb?" Bryn shook her friend's shoulder. Barbara groaned and winced, but her eyes didn't open.

Anxiously, Bryn shook her friend with more force. "Barb!"

Barbara groaned again; her eyelids began to flutter, and then they opened. She stared up at Bryn blankly.

"Barb,it's Bryn. What's the matter? Are you all right?"

Recognition registered in Barbara's eyes. She blinked again, as if bewildered.

"Bryn..." She started to move,then groaned, clutching her head.

"Barbara! What's wrong?" Bryn demanded again, truly anxious now.

"I...I don't know..." Barbara murmured. "I must have fallen asleep, but oh, God!My head. I feel like I've been hit by a ton of bricks. I...remember sitting here. I was watching that new miniseries. And I...I don't remember anything after!" "Can you sit up, Barb?" "Yes...I think so."

Bryn moved quickly to sit beside Barbara. She grasped Barbara's hands, pulling them from her head, and gingerly worked over her friend's scalp. Rivers of ice seemed to congeal her blood as she found a knot the size of a walnut near Barbara's nape.

"Oh, sweet Jesus, Barb!It feels like you have been hit with a ton of bricks. I'm going to get an ice pack.

Sit tight."

Bryn sped into the kitchen, dropped ice all over the floor in her desperate effort to hurry,then rushed back to Barbara.

"Lie back down on your side, Barb, and let me get the ice on this. Think Barb. Something must have happened."

Barbara sank gratefully back to the couch.' 'I swear to you, honey, I haven't lost my mind--just bruised it. I was sitting here watching television. I did not get up and trip and forget all about it or anything. I--''

Barbara's eyes flew open, filled with horror. She stared at Bryn; then her eyes nervously scanned the room, and then she stared at Bryn again.

"Bryn!"Her voice was a terrified whisper. "Someone must have been in here! Someone had to hit me from behind!"

Bryn swallowed as the terror washed over her again. Yes, it was obvious. Someone had been in the house. They had struck Barbara on the head. Then they had left--or had they?

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"Oh, God!"Bryn whispered.

Barbara started to rise. "We've got to call the police right away."

"No!" Bryn almost screamed the word. As Barbara stared at her as if she had gone crazy, Bryn lowered her voice to a whisper again. "No...wait. Let's...let's check out the house. The boys..."

"I think we should get on the phone right away--"

"No, Barb, please! I just... Wait. Wait and I'll try to explain. Just first..."

She stood up and started for the stairs, walking backward as she kept a pleading eye on Barbara. "The boys...I can't call the police. Oh, God, I know how this sounds. I realize you've just been criminally attacked and that we should call the police, but--"

"Wait up, Bryn! Where are you going?" Barbara asked.

"I have to check on the boys!" Bryn whispered, tears forming in her eyes. If she was lucky, her mysterious caller had knocked Barbara out,then destroyed her room. And another phone call would come.If she wasn't lucky...

"Wait for me, Bryn Keller!" Barbara called softly. "You're not going up there alone!"

"Get the broom!"

"The broom?"

"It's my best weapon."

"A knife--"

"We'd wind up dead!"

Apparently Barbara saw the sense of it. She hurried into the kitchen and brought back the broom and the mop--a lance for each of them.

Their eyes turned simultaneously up the stairway. It was dark; the bathroom light wasn't on. Bryn had never felt greater terror in her life than when she looked up into that realm of shadow that promised nothing but a never-ending nightmare.

"Go!" Barbara whispered.

Bryn took a step. Barbara followed.Another step. Barbara coughed softly, and Bryn almost screamed.

Her heart pounded painfully and seemed to lodge in her throat.

She took another step, and another; Barbara was with her, a shadow glued to her back.

"Do you see anything?" Barbara demanded.

"No!"

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"Keep moving."

Bryn took another step. They had almost reached the landing when suddenly a figure loomed before them.

Bryn and Barbara screamed together, knocking each other with the broom and the mop as they tried to raise them.

The reply to their scream was a terrified little echo, and then the sound of a child crying.

Bryn stood dead still. "Adam?" she queried softly.

"No, it's Keith. You scared me, Aunt Bryn!" An accusing hiccup and sob followed his words. "The light is out. I have to go, and I can't find the bathroom."

Bryn raced on up the stairs, breathing a sigh of relief. She fumbled her way into the bathroom and turned on the light. The hallway no longer appeared ominous, and if Keith was fine, so were Brian and Adam.

"Here, honey. Barb and I won't forget to put it on again."

Barbara--white and shaky, but poised--managed a smile that was only slightly sick. But as soon as the little boy had closed the door behind him, she whispered to Bryn, "I had that light on, Bryn Keller! You know I always leave the bathroom light on for the boys."

"I know, I know!" Bryn wailed. "Just let's finish checking the house, and I'll try to explain."

"This is one you're going to have to explain, Bryn! I still have a lump the size of an egg on my head! And the way I see it, we're going to have to call the police."

"Just wait till you hear everything, please?"

"Let's check out your bedroom."

They both poised with their household lances before her closet door, but when they had glanced at each other and nervously thrown it open, they found nothing but Bryn's clothing.

And nothing had been done to her room. Not a thing was out of place.

"I don't think there's anywhere else anyone could be hiding. We were running all around the kitchen.And the parlor. The bathroom is certainly too small to hide anything but a gremlin."