In Deep Trouble, page 22
When the door slammed against the wall, and Xiang, fire in his dark eyes, stormed into the room, Grady instinctively drew the blanket around himself.
What? You think it’s a shield? Get real. You’re not playing some stupid video game. This guy’s knife is real.
“Hello, little one. I know Enrique spoke to you, but I have questions of my own. What Enrique says you have told him sounds like so much bullshit.” Xiang closed the door and hovered over the bed. “Maybe you will be honest with me.”
Xiang gripped Grady’s chin. Raised his head. It took every bit of Grady’s willpower to meet the devil’s eyes, but he refused to cower.
“Would you like to cut me, little one?” Xiang asked. “Would you like to see how it feels to command the knife? Hold the power?” He dropped the weapon onto the bed. “Pick it up. Feel its weight, its shape. Think of what you would like to do with it.”
Grady reached for the knife. Would he be able to stab Xiang with it? He hefted it, imagined the steel blade penetrating Xiang’s chest, puncturing his heart. Imagined what it would feel like, cutting through flesh. Imagined the shock on Xiang’s face.
Yeah, right. As if Xiang wouldn’t know how to defend himself. Grady noticed the man was just out of reach, his dark eyes mocking him. Grady dropped the knife.
Using a handkerchief, Xiang picked the weapon up by the blade. “I know you too well, little one. You are not the killing type. Now, I have what is called leverage. Your prints are on this knife, and this is the knife used on the women when you were taking your pictures. You give the police the pictures, I give them the knife.” He made a tsk tsk sound. “It will be hard to part with such a good friend, but you know I will do it to protect my life, and that of Enrique’s. A knife, beloved as it might be, can be replaced.”
Xiang slapped Grady across the face again, his rings opening cuts that had begun to close. “Good night, little one. Sleep well.”
Xiang left the room. The sound of the bolt sliding into place proved the guy might be a whack job, but he was careful.
Grady wiped the blood with the sleeve of his hoodie. Another source of useless DNA. Curled up on the mattress, he resumed his ponderings. Enrique assumed Grady had hidden the phone. Which he had, but it was in the Triple-D guesthouse closet. If Grady could get another phone, take out its memory card, break it, and through some masterful sleight-of-hand, pretend to discover it, he might be able to convince Enrique and Xiang the pictures were gone forever.
Piece of cake, right. Someone was bound to come in here before morning and leave their phone behind. Right about the same time pigs would start flying, camels would walk through the eyes of needles, and snowballs wouldn’t melt in hell.
He laughed out loud. He must be getting punchy. Forget the memory card scheme. If someone came in with a cell phone, he’d call 911 and get out of this mess.
Chapter 33
Bryce hoped Cecily’s high spirits weren’t going to be dashed once they started talking to people. At this hour, the playground was empty. A few joggers ran along the trails, but Bryce set his sights for the picnic tables and restrooms. With each step, another layer of dread filled his gut, despite his brain shouting messages that this was in no way related to a Rangers op. But the sight of people down on their luck, huddled together, dressed in layers of all the clothing they owned sent him to Iraq.
The huge-eyed dirty-faced children, skinny arms outstretched, hoping for a few coins, a morsel of food to be dropped into a waiting, grimy palm. And always the fear one of them would have been brainwashed or blackmailed into wearing a suicide vest under their layers of clothing.
Until the day his fears were realized.
Bryce had been discharged from the army as soon as his tour was up. Derek had left shortly before, gone to work for Blackthorne, Inc., but Bryce was ready for a quieter lifestyle, surrounded by animals, not people. He’d been taking odd jobs on ranches, moving from place to place, never wanting to set down roots, but when Derek had quit Blackthorne and offered Bryce a job as a cowhand, he’d decided he was ready to settle down.
Shaking off memories, both good and bad, Bryce crossed the path toward a ragtag group of people, trying not to notice how many wore old military uniforms. With all the military facilities in and around Colorado Springs, it wasn’t unexpected. Some, he noticed as he got closer, wore hunting camo gear, also in abundance. He took a breath. “You ready?” he asked Cecily.
“Homeless or gang?” she asked, adjusting her grip on his arm.
“No colors, no attitudes. Homeless.”
He stepped closer to the group, smiled. “Evening. Nice night, even if it’s on the nippy side.” He crossed his arms over his chest and rubbed his biceps.
“Say what you want and move on,” one swarthy man, dressed in dirty camo, said. “Unless you’re handing out money.” He gave a laugh that morphed into a hacking cough.
“Funny you should say that,” Bryce said. “I might have some spare change—if you can help me.” He moved his gaze across the group, letting them know he included all of them.
Several bodies sat straighter, eyes narrowed in interest.
Bryce moved on with his prepared spiel, and Cecily showed Grady’s picture around. Bryce studied expressions as each person perused the photo before passing it along. He’d hoped to see flickers of recognition, even though he assumed they’d be well-disguised in the hopes of milking a few more dollars from him. Most seemed to be paying more attention to Cecily than the picture.
The first man, their apparent spokesperson, shook his head and handed the photo to Bryce. “Been here the better part of three weeks. Never saw this one.”
Cecily’s grip on Bryce’s arm tightened, and he sensed she was going to push for more. “How about giving everyone a little for their cooperation, Babe.”
Thankful she fell into her role and didn’t say anything but thank you, Bryce helped her hand everyone a couple of bucks, giving a five to the spokesman. “Appreciate it. If you see him, you tell him Ginger and Charlie are looking for him, okay? He’ll know how to reach us.”
He wrapped his arm around Cecily’s waist and moved away, toward another group of squatters.
“Ginger and Charlie?” Cecily tilted her head.
“If, and it’s a long shot, Grady does show up here, or if these people have been told to expect someone hunting for him, they’re not going to be able to trace the names to us.”
“Grady would know it was us. I get it. Why not give them our phone numbers?”
Bryce stifled a laugh. “You see any of them with cell phones?”
“Oh. Right.” She moved closer to him, and he absorbed her warmth. He hadn’t planned on any outdoor activities when he’d gotten dressed for the evening.
About twenty feet from the next group, he halted. “Bimbo time. Do not say anything. Got it?”
“Got it.” Her stride turned into a swaggering sashay, bouncing against his hips as they continued toward the obvious gang members. He scanned the area for a cop, but saw none. No joggers used this portion of the path. Even from five feet away, Bryce sensed the no trespassing undercurrent spreading from the group like shock waves. Belly clenched, he kept walking. He thought about his pistol, locked up in his apartment. No need to carry when all he had planned on doing was having dinner and watching a movie at Cecily’s house.
Despite the naked feeling, leaving his weapon behind had been a smart move. Coming in armed would put these creeps on the defensive, and he doubted they’d shoot without more provocation than a few questions.
“Behind me,” he whispered to Cecily. Once she’d fallen back half a pace, he smiled and approached the group, picture in hand. “Hey, a minute of your time? I’m looking for this guy. Wonder if you’ve seen him.”
A blocky Latino moved a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other, sizing Bryce up with hooded eyes. When he extended his hand to take the picture, prison tattoos on the man’s knuckles flaunted his self-perceived meanness. Hints of tattoo sleeves on both arms peeked out from the worn cuffs of his sweatshirt. He hardly gave the picture a glance before saying, “Never seen him,” and letting the picture drift to the ground.
Bryce snapped his fingers. Okay, so the snapping was Cecily’s idea, but a good one. “Babe. Get that.”
Cecily darted forward, snagged the paper, and handed it to Bryce without a word. Good. She could follow directions under stress.
“Just trying to keep this guy out of the hands of the man,” Bryce said. “They’re lookin’, but he’s done me a solid, so I owe him. You know anyone who might help?”
Leader Man seemed to be weighing his options. He held out his hand again. Bryce extended Grady’s picture once more. This time the man studied it, frowning, shaking his head. Bryce stifled the urge to tell him to pass the photo around. Not his place to tell this guy what to do. In fact, he didn’t even want to think it too hard, in case the guy could pick up on it.
The man raised his gaze to Cecily and leered, “She wants this guy?”
Bryce spat. “Her? No way. I found her at the bar. She’s mine for the night. If you can’t help, let me know so we can move on. I gotta lotta ground to cover. And plans for later.” He looped his arm around Cecily’s neck and gave her a sloppy kiss. Taking his eyes off the gang members showed he trusted them—he hoped.
Wanting to avoid any obvious reaction to Cecily’s body and lips, he tried to keep at least a few molecules of separation. Cecily had other ideas, and she ground herself against him, shoving her tongue toward his tonsils. Then, without any preamble, she shoved at his chest and pushed him away, catching him off guard so he half-stumbled backward.
She smoothed her hair and waggled a finger. “Now, Sugar, I told you you’d have to wait for it. All in good time.”
Bryce gave Leader Man—and the rest of the onlookers—a sheepish grin. “I do need to get moving.”
Leader Man turned and held the picture up to his group. “Anyone seen this kid?” Most of the gang shook their heads, but a couple stepped close enough to peer at Grady’s image. Then they shook their heads.
“Not been here.” Leader Man returned the photo. “Not our type.”
“Any places that might want his type?” Bryce asked.
The man hesitated. Stared into space. “Might try Memorial, but not thinking you’ll have luck there. Can’t see anyone wanting a kid like him. He’d be going it alone.”
“Thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask, since you’ve got eyes and ears everywhere.” This time, since Cecily was his one-night-stand, Bryce left Ginger out of the equation when he told them what to tell Grady if they saw him. “Tryin’ to keep the kid out of trouble.”
He swung his arm around Cecily’s waist and headed toward the parking lot. “We might have better luck in the morning,” Bryce said. “Check other hangouts. Malls, in particular.” He could hardly believe he’d volunteered to visit a mall.
“You’re right. Kids like those. But can we check out Memorial Park first? One more try tonight?”
When their results were no better talking to people at the second venue, Bryce posed his question to Cecily. One that had been niggling since he’d kissed her in front of the gang.
“It’s a long drive up and back, and if we want an early start, we’re going to be wasting a lot of time driving. What if I call Derek, see if he can get someone to fill in for me tomorrow, and we find a motel?”
Her immediate grin said she’d been thinking the same thing. “Let me call in, see if I can switch shifts.”
Cecily made the call while Bryce left a voicemail for Derek, who wasn’t answering. “Text me if it’s a problem,” he said.
“I’m clear until second shift Monday,” Cecily said. “Can we stop somewhere I can buy a toothbrush first?”
Cecily worked at convincing herself she’d agreed to spend the night in the Springs—and with Bryce—because it was a more efficient use of their time while hunting for Grady. She hadn’t asked if he was thinking one room or two.
They stopped at a convenience store and she grabbed a toothbrush, toothpaste, and deodorant. She could always wash out her underwear. Bryce picked up a toothbrush for himself. “Mind sharing the other stuff?” he asked.
“Of course not.” She grabbed her credit card before Bryce could offer to pay—she was beholden to him enough already. When he pulled into a chain motel, saying he had credit card reward points that would make it a free night, she didn’t object.
The desk clerk eyed Cecily as Bryce gave him his rewards information.
Was he going to question their lack of luggage? No, it could be in the car. He was probably looking at her semi-homeless outfit. She held his gaze, tossed her head and smiled. His job wasn’t to judge her.
The man shifted his gaze to Bryce. “Thank you, Mr. Barrett. A king room or two queens?”
Bryce didn’t even glance her way before answering. “Two queens will be fine.”
Two beds? What was that supposed to mean? She tried to put herself in Bryce’s head. Did it mean he wasn’t interested in continuing where they’d left off, before Derek’s call had put a stop to what had been the makings of one very special night? She found that hard to believe. When he’d kissed her to make a point to that gang leader, she’d been aware of his arousal.
But he was a guy. A guy kisses a woman, and nature takes over. Doesn’t necessarily mean he cares. Means he’s ready for sex.
She didn’t want sex. She wanted to make love. What did he want? If Bryce couldn’t give her that, then two beds was the logical answer.
Bryce finished signing the paperwork and collected the key card envelope. He chinned toward the elevator. “This way.”
He wasn’t playacting now. No fake terms of endearment, no arms around her waist, not even holding her hand. He unlocked the door, flipped a switch on the wall, and a light in the narrow entry way came on.
Inside the room—no different from any motel chain she’d ever been in—the two beds, covered in white sheets wrapped around a duvet, sat against the wall, separated by a night table. Lots of pillows. Each bed had its own lamp mounted on the wall above a wooden headboard. One easy chair, desk, and a dresser with a flat screen television set. Bryce squeezed by her and went into the bathroom.
Should she claim a bed? She stood between the two, absently picking up the television remote. She flipped on the set to fill the silence. Maybe she and Bryce could watch a movie, which was what they were supposed to be doing tonight.
How could she enjoy a movie when Grady might be out there? How could she enjoy anything when Grady might be out there?
The toilet flushed, water ran, and Bryce stepped to her side, taking the remote from her and tossing it on one of the beds. He cradled her face, adjusting the angle before moving in for a kiss. A real kiss, not the show off for the gang members kind. He must have felt the tension in her shoulders—in her entire body—because he moved his hands to her back and began a slow, tender massage.
“You’re allowed to let it go for the night,” he whispered. “We’ll start again tomorrow. Maybe by then, Grady will be at the ranch.”
She pulled back and searched his face. “Do you believe that? He’ll show up without calling, without letting anyone know where he’s been?”
He sighed and lowered himself to the bed. “Believe it’s possible? Yes. Believe it’s likely? No.”
Emotions warred inside her. Give in to her instincts, to her desires? Make wild, abandoned love with Bryce? Would it be lovemaking for him? Or a way to release tension?
Would releasing tension be so bad? Heaven only knew, she had enough of it. She flopped down next to him. “What are we doing here?”
He gave her a quizzical grin. “I hoped you’d be able to figure it out.”
“One minute we’re on a mission to find Grady, and now we’re in a hotel room and you want—” she flapped her arms. “You can turn things on and off like that?” She grabbed the bag of toiletries and went into the bathroom.
When she finished, Bryce was tugging one of the beds a couple inches from the wall. “Don’t want to disturb our neighbors,” he said with a crooked grin.
“You think you know me that well?” she asked. “A few kisses, a shoulder massage, and I’ll fall into bed with you?”
She heard her words and wondered who was speaking them. Or why tears streamed down her face.
“You care so much.” Bryce’s kisses caressed her cheeks, wiping away the tears. “Too much, maybe. You have to let go,” he repeated. “Take some time to be Cecily. Think about yourself for a few hours. When there’s nothing you can do, kicking yourself for doing nothing eats away at you.”
The hitch in his voice said he was speaking from experience.
She wiped her eyes and sniffed. “Will you make love with me?” She waited for him to flinch, studied his expression, seeking reassurance the L word hadn’t scared him away.
He cradled her face again, kissed away the remaining tears, his lips moving closer and closer to her mouth. When their lips met, she parted hers, begged him to enter.
His kiss promised to take her away, to make her forget, if only for the short duration of their night together. With a silent apology to Grady, she tugged at the hem of Bryce’s Henley. “Off. I want to see you. Touch you.”
“You, too,” he whispered. “All of you.”
She stood, stripping off her shabby clothes, her gaze never leaving Bryce as he toed off his sneakers, shucked out of his jeans, but not before tossing a condom packet onto the night table. His eyes, pools of liquid silver, locked on hers. He tossed back the covers on the bed—the one he’d pulled away from the wall. “Lie down,” he said.
“No.” She pushed him away, shoved him onto his back. “You lie down. It’s your turn. There’s something I’ve been dying to do for a long, long time.”
Chapter 34
Bryce stared up at Cecily, her hair hanging in waves, framing her face. The sheer curtains across the windows were drawn, but the blackout curtains behind them were still open, giving enough light to reflect off the chestnut highlights each time she moved. He concentrated on her face—her half-lidded brown eyes, her parted lips—because to look any lower, at her naked breasts, would be pushing his self control to the edge of a cliff.
