To the Limit (25 page)

"They are, yes."

"OK. On the chance she does call, remember to keep her in the dark on the GPS. Mac's probably right. If she finds out she's being tracked, she could go paranoid on us. Especially if she's strung out."

Kat looked sad at the prospect.

"Just let one of us know when you hear from her," Eve said gently. "She may even be able to give you a location. If not, the GPS will nail it for us and we'll move in."

"Provided they don't move again before we get to her," McClain said, voicing exactly what Eve had been thinking.

She nodded. "Yeah. Provided they don't move. Again, we'll adjust as necessary."

"Shouldn't we call the police?"

"We can call them," Eve agreed, responding to Sven's question, "but I don't see them acting."

"Not acting? This Reno creep kidnapped her!" Kat insisted.

"Says us," McClain pointed out. "Look, even if they somehow manage to catch up with Reno and Gorman, I can tell you right now, Tiffany will back up everything Reno says."

"But—"

"He's right," Eve broke in. "Reno will coerce her. He'll threaten her, manipulate her—he's a pro at it. And trust me, she'll deny that she's with him against her will. From everything I know about Tiff, I figure she's in a very bad place emotionally right now. She won't have the strength to stand up to him."

"Then what do we do?"

"
You
do nothing but wait for a call and keep the GPS on for now," McClain said. He looked weary but stern as he leaned back in his chair. "Reno proved tonight that he's capable of violence when he sicced that mob on you. You need to let us take it from here."

Kat exchanged glances with Sven. He nodded. She let out a tired breath. "And what will you do?"

"Until we hear something, we'll keep looking. Chances are slim that Reno will take her out in public again any time soon knowing someone's looking for her, but we'll try just the same. And as far as he knows now, it's just you who's aware she's in the city," he added, nodding at Kat. "They couldn't have made Eve or me, so on the off chance they stick around here, we could get lucky and spot them. Odds are, however, they'll lay low for a day or two, catch up on their sleep. They've got to be as whipped as we are. Regardless, I'm thinking Reno will have them on a plane out of here as soon as he gets a chance to regroup."

And that was the last thing any of them wanted to happen.

Chapter 16

"What's Reno's game, anyway?" Kat
asked after they'd finished eating and she and Sven were clearing the dishes. "What does he want from Tiffany?"

"Best guess?" McClain shrugged and pushed back from the table. He leaned back in his chair. "He figures he's found the golden goose. As long as he has Tiffany, he's got the means to live high, score big, and have himself one hell of a party. He's milking her for all she's worth."

He glanced toward Eve for confirmation. "What?" he asked, evidently seeing reservation in her eyes.

Eve shook her head. "I don't know. I've got nothing concrete. Just this gut feeling that there's more to all of this than meets the eye."

"Like?" Kat asked, returning to the table with the coffeepot.

Eve waved off her offer of coffee. She was already too wired. A hit of caffeine would send her into orbit. McClain also declined.

"I've never liked it that Clayborne didn't use his own people to find Tiffany," she said, still wrestling with that issue. "He's got a full security team. And his—rather,
Edwards's
—claim that the in-house staff was too close to the situation just doesn't ring true."

"What are you suggesting?" Kat settled on Sven's lap when he held out a hand for her.

Their easy intimacy had Eve looking away—and connecting with McClain's dark gaze again. Her heart did that damn double trip, it was wont to do when he looked at her that way. Like he knew what she was thinking and he was totally on board with the idea.

"I don't know." Eve averted her gaze back to Kat. "I don't know what I'm suggesting. I just know the situation has made me uneasy from the onset."

Kat looked at McClain. "Mac?"

He shrugged and thankfully turned his attention to Kat. "I didn't give it much credence at first, but now I have to agree with Eve. Something's off here. Very possibly, we won't know what it is until we catch up with Tiffany. And that's not going to happen anymore tonight," he added.

He rose, made one of those sinewy male all-over body stretches and sent her heart on a slow dive to her stomach. "I don't know about you all, but I'm whipped. I've got to recharge. Maybe this will look a little less muddy after a few hours of sleep."

"He's right," Eve said, standing, and when she did, she felt herself hit the wall. She was suddenly exhausted. "I've been up for almost twenty-four hours straight."

"You'll stay here," Kat insisted.

Mac shook his head. "I've got a room."

"Me, too," Eve said.

When Kat asked where they were staying, she shook her head. "It will take forever to catch a cab at this hour. I'd send you in the limo, but I don't want to wake Thomas. Please. I insist. You can return to your hotels to change after you've gotten some rest. Tonight, you're staying here. The extra bedroom's yours."

Mac glanced at Eve. "I'll take the couch," he said after a long moment, his gaze locked on her face.

She was too surprised by his offer and too tired to argue. "Thanks," she said instead, with a look that encompassed both McClain and Kat.

"No thanks necessary. It's the least I can do for what you're doing for Tiffany. I'll get you a sheet and some pillows, Mac. Sven will get you some boxers to sleep in."

"Please, God," McClain said, "tell me they aren't leather."

"Silk," Sven said with a grin. "Almost as good."

"Eve, I'll find a gown for you." Kat smiled and she and Sven disappeared down the hall, leaving Eve alone with McClain.

And an unexpected and awkward silence.

"You were something tonight,
Trixie
,"
he said, finally walking around the table to stand directly in front of her.

"Yeah, well." She jerked a shoulder, reluctant to be pleased by his compliment, even more reluctant to realize she wanted to smile at his warped sense of humor. "You weren't so bad yourself."

He grinned, crooked and lazy. Amusement and intimacy danced in his eyes. "What have we come to? We're actually being nice to each other. Again."

She lifted a brow. "Must be sleep deprivation. Or something."

"Or something," he agreed, still watching her.

"For the record?" He moved in closer, ran his fingers down the length of her arms, gripped her hands in his. "I'm glad you're on my team."

"Just so you remember I'm the captain."

He tipped his head to the ceiling, exhaled with a heavy dose of Lord-save-me-from-this-woman, then looked back at her. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

Because she was far too aware of his nearness, far too absorbed in the slumberous brown of his eyes, far too tempted to lift her hand, explore the heat and strength of his jaw and the shadowed twenty-four-hour growth of his beard, she averted her gaze to their joined hands.

His hands were large and scarred and dark compared to hers, which were slighter, paler, unmarked. The contrast was an erotic showcase of their differences. Small, large. Pale, dark. Female, male. Very, very male. He ran his thumb over the backs of her knuckles and every nerve in her body stood at attention.

"We need to do something about this, you know?"

His voice was husky, low, and she had no doubt what
this
he was talking about. The sexual tension between them had been building to volcanic levels despite her resistance and her determination to deny it. Her awareness of her own sexuality and of the fact that she liked sex—OK, she
loved
sex—and that it had been a very, very long time since she'd trusted a man enough to engage in a physical relationship was palpable.

Trust. Now there was a word she hadn't anticipated using in a thought involving McClain. And yet, she realized, she did trust him. Go figure.

She swallowed, looked anywhere but at him. Until he curled an index finger under her chin and tipped her head to his.

"Nothing to say about that?"

She saw a devastating combination of hunger and patience in his eyes. And almost—almost—rose to her toes to meet his sensual, mobile mouth with hers. Instead, she managed to slowly shake her head.

"OK," he said, searching her face, all the while sliding his hand from her chin to her jaw, then tunneling his fingers beneath the damp hair at her nape. "Then you just think about it for a while. I'll be thinking, too. About how great it would be between us."

Then he did the damnedest thing. He leaned forward and pressed the gentlest of kisses on her forehead.

Like he was blessing her or something. Or tormenting her when what she was ready for was the taste of his lips, the sleek glide of his tongue in her mouth.

"Just so there's no misunderstanding, though, the next move's yours, cupcake."

And then he shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets and walked to the bank of windows looking out over the sleeping city.

She didn't have a chance to analyze the glut of emotions roiling through her blood and setting her fingers tingling. Or decide if she felt more relief or disappointment that he'd backed away.

OK. She felt more disappointment. But really, who could blame him for turning the reins over to her? Last time he'd made a move, she'd put a hurt on him and his precious goods.

His fault for taking her off guard, she thought, mustering a little piety. He'd moved in way before she was ready to admit she wanted him to. And yeah, she'd reacted in the extreme—something she felt guilty about now. Just like she was thinking about another kind of extreme reaction. Like inviting him to join her in Kat Hofsteader's guest bedroom and asking him to remind her with a hands-on demo just how good sex could be when the chemistry sizzled.

Chemistry. There was that word again. As long as she remembered that was all they had going for them, they'd avoid complications. McClain hadn't triggered memories and resurrected dreams of happily ever after. At eighteen, yeah, she could be excused for blubbering around in such nonsense. She was older now. Wiser. Capable of enjoying a hot physical relationship with a hot physical man and not losing her heart in the process.

Kat returned about then with bedding for McClain and an ivory nightgown for Eve and they all said their good nights.

As exhausted as she was, Eve lay awake, however, staring at the ceiling for way too long thinking about what McClain had said.

Next move's yours, cupcake.

Good. Fine. She'd make the next move, damn him. When she was good and ready.
If
she ever was.

Her mind flashed on the memory of a long-ago night in a moonlight-drenched cabana.

"Oh God, am I ready," she muttered, punching the pillow. She rolled over on her stomach, wished for chocolate, and prayed for sleep.

"You did?" Mac sat on Kat Hofsteader's sofa at eleven that same morning, marginally rested from a few hours' sleep and grinning into his cell phone as Ali regaled him with details of a play date with a new friend named Brittany, who had a puppy.

He leaned forward, propped an elbow on his knee, his heart clenching with missing her. "It sounds great, pumpkin."

He could see his baby girl, brushing her straight, silky, fine hair from her eyes because she refused to let anyone pull it back in a ponytail. Her hair was the same color as his, milk chocolate brown. She had his eyes, too. And, praise kismet, a disposition so sweet it was hard to believe she was her mother's daughter.

That wasn't entirely fair. Angie hadn't always been a bitch. Between his job and the dark moods it sometimes gave him, he'd given her plenty of cause to hone the bitch factor to perfection.

Speaking of perfection, he glanced up when he heard movement on the plush ivory carpet and saw Eve enter the living room, heading for the kitchen.

She cut him a glance as he asked Ali what she was going to do today.