Whispers in the Dark (23 page)

Maybe I should just let Danesh finish the battle. He seemed to be winning, now that he had a hand around the guy’s throat. But what if he didn’t?

Too much thinking. I shoved the gun in my jacket pocket and hefted the stick. I stepped through the doorway to the back room, squeezed the wooden handle tighter in trembling fingers, and swung the weapon low as the pair staggered toward me. It caught my target across the back of both knees. He folded backward with a grunt, pulling Danesh down on top of him. I heard a crack, maybe from a head hitting the floor.

I raised the stick but couldn’t get a clear shot. Danesh rolled the guy onto his stomach and pinned his arms behind his back. Danesh tossed his hair out of his face and gasped for breath. “Other guy?”

“Down for now. I have his gun.” I realized my hands stung from the force of swinging the stick. I dropped it. “Jerry?” I scanned the room and spotted a still form stretched out on the sofa. Jerry’s shirt was open, and blood seeped through a white bandage over his shoulder.

I guess I cried out. Danesh said, “He’s alive. Help me with this guy. There’s some rope in that corner cabinet, bottom shelf.” He gave me a quick smile. “Didn’t tell them that, though.”

The smuggler was struggling and cursing, but Danesh managed to keep him pinned down and dodge the flailing feet while I found the rope. I tied his hands, and then Danesh made a few quick moves I could hardly follow, and the man wound up hogtied, his hands and feet behind him, separated by about six inches of rope.

Danesh stood and blew out a breath. “Now what were you saying about the other guys?”

“I hit him with a squash. I knocked him out, but I don’t know for how long.” I fished the gun out of my pocket and offered it to Danesh. “He’s in the parking lot. I locked the front door.”

“A squash? Wait—which guy are we talking about?”

Right. For a moment I’d forgotten about Sean. “The guy who just came out. But I don’t think we have to worry about Sean, either.”

Danesh’s eyebrows went up, but he just went past me to the front room, opened the door, and dragged Red Hair back inside. The man had his eyes halfway open, but he couldn’t walk a straight line. When Danesh pushed him against the wall and told him to sit, he slid down the wall and sprawled in a heap. As Danesh tied him up he frowned at the man’s bloody, muddy face. “Did you say you hit him with a
squash
?”

I nodded. “Filled with mud. Just like a softball. I didn’t mention that I sometimes pitch....”

Danesh started to laugh. “Honey, I’m glad you’re on my team.”

Chapter 26

The dark-haired man rolled onto his side. He wiggled and jerked but could only move a few inches across the floor. “We have half a million dollars—it’s all yours, if you let us go.”

“Forget it.” Danesh turned toward the front room. “I’ll call the police.”

“I already called,” I said. “My phone was still in your car.”

Danesh swung back toward me and lifted me off the floor in a hug. “I could get used to having you around.”

I felt my face heating and smiled back. “They’re supposed to be on their way, but I’m not sure how much they understood.”

“I’ll call back.” Danesh glanced at Jerry. “I’d better make sure they’re sending an ambulance.” He went to the front room to call.

I ignored the man who was still pleading and bargaining and went to stand over Jerry. He looked gray, but his chest still rose and fell, his breath raspy. How had he gotten into this? How would he get himself out? Or had I been wrong, and he was just another innocent bystander?

Danesh came up and put his arm around me. We both gazed down at Jerry.

Finally I said, “What happened?”

“He was shot during that first struggle, when you escaped. They let me patch him up. You saved our lives, you know.”

“Me? I ran.”

“That’s what did it. After the other guy—Sean?—went after you, they talked about just killing us, but decided having one witness and two dead bodies was worse than having three witnesses and no murders, so they waited.”

The man on the floor said, “We’re not killers! We let you save him, right? We never planned to kill you, just scare you, come on, man—”

Danesh glanced back, and his lip curled in disgust. “I’m sure they didn’t intend to leave anyone alive, but they seemed determined to make Sean do the dirty work. Maybe trying to avoid murder charges if they did get caught, or maybe as some kind of test for Sean or just because he screwed up. I gather they haven’t been working together long, and these two don’t think much of Sean, but they wanted him in so deep he couldn’t back out.”

I tried to tune out the ranting behind us and focus on Jerry. “How badly do you think he’s hurt?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think the bullet hit any organs, but I’m not a doctor.”

“So he got shot when I escaped. Thanks for that, by the way.” I hesitated, but decided to plunge on. “I wondered if he was... if he could be....”

“I know.” Danesh sighed. “He had to be working with them. That’s the only way this makes sense.” His eyes looked shiny, and I was glad I hadn’t had to break the news.

The man spoke from behind us. “Your friend knew, he was smart. We can cut you in the same way—”

Danesh whirled on him. “We’re not interested in your deals!” He glanced around the room, took two steps to the counter with the coffee maker, and tore a couple of paper towels off a roll. He stuffed them in the man’s mouth as a gag.

Danesh rose, looking fierce. He frowned down at Jerry and shook his head. “I keep wondering why. I’m sure he didn’t do drugs. We don’t make much money, and he wasn’t really happy here, but still....”

“I saw how people treated him,” I said. “It must have grated over time, but it still doesn’t seem like a reason to turn to crime.”

Danesh rubbed his eyes. “During the fight, he was helping me, I’m sure of it. I don’t think I would have survived if Jerry hadn’t jumped in. They must’ve had some kind of hold over him, but I can’t believe he would let them hurt either one of us. I’m sure he was fighting on our side when it came time to choose.”

I nodded, hoping Danesh was right.

He took my arms and looked into my eyes. “Could we... just not say anything to the police yet about Jerry? When he wakes up, we can ask him about it and decide then. But if he doesn’t make it, there’s no reason to drag his name through the mud, hurt his parents, Maureen....”

I would have agreed to just about anything to ease the pain in his face. “All right. I don’t know anything for sure, anyway, so I can keep my guesses to myself.”

“Thanks.” The slightest smile touched his lips, and I wondered when I would see a real smile again. He pulled me into a hug. “You haven’t told me yet what happened to Sean. Are you sure we shouldn’t be worried about him?”

I felt myself start to tremble. Danesh’s grip tightened. “Kylie. What happened out there?”

“I think he’s dead.” My words came out in short gasps. “I hit him with a rock. He fell—fell down to the river. From the cliff. I killed him.”

Danesh snuggled me close. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “Everything will be all right.” He held me as I clung to him and sobbed into his shoulder.

My trembling slowed and my sobs faded to shaky breaths. The warmth from Danesh’s skin seeped into me, banishing the last of my chill. I sighed and nestled my cheek against his shoulder. I felt safe and comfortable there—more safe and comfortable than I’d felt in a long time, despite the night’s trauma. I didn’t want to let go. Ever.

Danesh brushed kisses across my temple. Then he lifted his head and turned his face toward the door. I heard the sound of sirens drawing closer.

“I hope one of those is the ambulance,” Danesh said.

Red Hair mumbled something and squirmed. The other man spit out the sodden wad of paper towels. “It’s Sean’s fault! We got dragged into this, too. Help us, and we’ll—”

Danesh and I ignored him and went out to meet the police.

Chapter 27

Once the police understood the situation, things moved quickly. A helicopter took Jerry to the hospital, and an EMT bandaged my ankle and checked my other cuts and bruises. A search team came out to find Sean. The police took the other criminals into town, and Danesh and I followed in his truck. I dozed on the way, and even the police station coffee couldn’t fully wake me up again.

I made it through questioning, constantly reminding myself to state only what happened and not what I guessed or assumed. If I sometimes had to pause before answering, surely my exhaustion was enough of an excuse. If the police were any good at their job, they would suspect Jerry anyway, but that wasn’t my problem.

My breath hitched when I described knocking Sean off the cliff, but the police didn’t seem concerned about what I’d done. They said it was clearly self-defense. I didn’t think that would stop the nightmares, but at least I didn’t have to worry about legal repercussions.

Finally they let Danesh and me leave. By that point, I couldn’t even walk a straight line to his truck. He helped boost me in and I sank back against the seat with my eyes closed.

It felt like only a couple of minutes passed before the truck stopped. I opened my eyes. Maybe only a couple of minutes had passed—we were still in town.

“My place,” Danesh said. “We can get you a hotel room if you’d prefer, but I thought this would be easier.”

I hadn’t really thought about where we were going, but I wasn’t anxious to drive all the way back to my campsite and sleep on the ground. And finding a hotel would take time and effort, too. My voice sounded hoarse when I spoke. “Can I assume you’re too exhausted to take advantage of me?”

He chuckled. “I like to think I’m too honorable, but either way, I promise not to take advantage of you.”

“Too bad.” I yawned and stretched, then practically fell out of the truck.

His apartment wasn’t nearly as fancy as Sean’s, but it was a cozy two-room affair with comfortable, mismatched furniture and nature photos on the walls. Danesh led me right to the bathroom and turned on the shower. “Here’s a towel,” he said. “There should be a new toothbrush in the drawer, and use anything else you need. You want tea? Food?”

I shook my head, he left, and I stripped down and climbed into the shower. Even that seemed like a lot of effort, but the dried mud was starting to itch. Once I was in, the hot water revived me. Ten minutes later I stepped out and wrapped myself in a towel.

I found some aloe in the cabinet and was dabbing it on my scrapes when Danesh rapped on the door. “Want some clothes?”

Still wrapped in the towel, I opened the door and took the T-shirt and sweatpants he held. He winked. “Think you can keep these clean for more than twenty minutes?”

I laughed. “I’m not planning to do anything more exciting than sleep.”

“The bed’s ready. If you don’t want anything else, climb on in. I’ll be on the couch if you need me.”

I thought about that as I dressed. It hardly seemed fair to take his bed. And besides—I didn’t want to be alone. I was far from feeling frisky, but I suspected once the first exhaustion passed, my sleep would be restless. Too many things churned around in the back of my mind. If I’d suffered from posttraumatic stress disorder after the brief attack in Boston, what would this night’s events do to me?

I stepped out to the living room, still not sure what I wanted. I noticed a pile of bedding on the couch but didn’t see Danesh until sounds from the kitchen caught my attention. The kitchen was a narrow corridor separated from the living room by cabinets above and a counter below, with an open pass-through between. I could see Danesh’s back, from his shoulders to his waist. He wasn’t wearing a shirt.

Suddenly I wasn’t in any hurry to get his attention. I stood for a minute, admiring the view. Muscles rippled in his shoulders and along his spine as he moved, like a Greek sculpture brought gloriously to life in warm, tanned flesh. I wanted to trace my fingers—or my mouth—along his spine. His hair hung loose over his shoulders, but I imagined sweeping it aside to nuzzle that delicious neck.

He turned, flashing me his chest and stomach. I leaned back against the wall with a sigh. I wanted to nibble my way over that feast of flesh. My body was telling me I was ready to get physical with a man. My mind and heart agreed—so long as it was this man.

He stepped out of the kitchen. A pair of baggy basketball shorts rode low on his hips and I had to drag my eyes up to his face. He smiled. “Did you decide you’re hungry after all?”

Oh, I was getting hungry all right. I swallowed quickly before I started drooling—literally. “No. I wanted to talk about the sleeping arrangements.”

He glanced at the bedding on the couch and then back at me. “If you’re not comfortable here, we can still find a hotel.”

I stepped closer. “It’s not that. I’m afraid I’ll have nightmares.”

“Ah? After everything you’ve been through, that’s not a surprise.” He frowned, and I could tell he was trying to think of a solution. It was so cute.

I moved to him and slid my hands up his chest to rest on his shoulders. “I wondered if you might sleep next to me, in case I get scared.”