Someone Safe. Lori Harris L.

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      Nick dropped the muzzle of his weapon. “A cat?” Most of the furniture suddenly seemed alive as tabbies and Persians and calicos spilled like an advancing army onto the floor. Some mewed in quiet greeting, others in a complaining meow.

      “Looks like the local feline rescue.”

      He nudged a suitcase with a foot. “Your aunt’s? The one who is out of town?”

      He didn’t like it. He was still weighing his options when she suddenly tried to shove past him and out the door.

      “We can’t stay here.”

      Instead of letting her go, Nick pushed her farther inside, closed the door behind them.

      If she was worried about who was upstairs there was a fifty-fifty chance it was an aunt. They were better odds than he’d get with Binelli’s people.

      “We stay here tonight and get out before first light.”

      “No we don’t. I won’t put her at risk.”

      “You should have thought about that before now.” He wrapped a hand around her upper arm. “But since you didn’t, you can make some introductions.”

      She tried to twist free. “Like hell, I will! Just look at us. Your leg. My clothes. The only thing that would accomplish is scaring her.”

      “Where does she sleep?”

      “Upstairs. But, Nick, please don’t—”

      “Save it, sweetheart.” He escorted her roughly to the steps, Kelly continuing to fight him.

      “Damn it, Nick!”

      He only tightened his hold. “Maybe you’ve forgotten just how well I knew you at one time. And maybe you’ve forgotten that touching performance you gave the press about how your father was the only family you had? How you had been left alone in the world?”

      Nick felt her anger even before it manifested itself into the small, but hard fist she threw at him. The blow was glancing, but still carried enough power that when it landed on his already bruised ribs, he fell back half a step.

      She didn’t fight like a girl. He realized he should have remembered as much. When she would have tried a second, he caught her wrist. “Take it easy. I just wanted to get the story straight.”

      Eyeing him, Kelly pushed a section of hair behind her ear. There was no way he was ever going to believe her or trust her. And no reason to continue fighting the inevitable.

      Besides, at the moment she wanted a shower and a bed. “Okay. Whatever.”

      He waited while she zipped the jacket, did her best to straighten her hair.

      They climbed into the darkness. The air was warm and musty, the daytime heat trapped in the narrow stairwell. The wooden treads, weak with age, gave slightly under his heavier weight. Ahead of him, Kelly moved with the sureness of familiarity.

      Near the top, he pulled her to a stop. He could feel the rigid anger in her body. Or perhaps it was fear.

      Was she afraid she’d be caught in the cross fire? He had proof of her complicity. Binelli wouldn’t be after her if she hadn’t double-crossed him. If she would double-cross someone like Binelli, why not a Customs agent?

      This time, when Kelly tried to move ahead, Nick tugged her back against him. “Not so fast.” His hand crept beneath her hair as he eased her more tightly against him with the hand still holding the automatic.

      He was suddenly very aware of the soft feel of her body touching his. “I’d hate to see anything happen to you, so don’t do anything foolish.” He dropped the hand holding the gun, allowing their bodies to hide the weapon.

      “Aunt Sarah?”

      Nick heard the shift of sheets. As light leaked from beneath the closed door, he eased back, taking Kelly with him. The door opened slowly.

      The woman was somewhere in her eighties. Her white hair hung in braids on either side of her face.

      “Has something happened, dear?”

      “Just a boat problem. Nothing serious. I hope you don’t mind if Nick uses the guest room?”

      “Of course not. Let me pull on a robe and I’ll help you freshen the linens.”

      “The sheets are fine.” Kelly offered a reassuring smile. “Go back to bed. I’ll take care of Nick. I just wanted you to know we were here in case you heard us moving around.”

      “If you are certain?”

      Kelly nodded. “I didn’t expect you back until tomorrow.”

      “I missed my kitties.”

      “Of course you did,” Kelly murmured. “Good night, then,”

      As soon as the door closed, Kelly faced Nick. “Unless you’re afraid of eighty-two-year-old women and what they might do to you in your bed, you should be satisfied now, Investigator.”

      When she shoved past him, he let her go.

      Kelly waited for him at the bottom of the steps. “The bedroom’s this way.” She led him through the kitchen, then down a cramped hall at the back of the house.

      “The bed isn’t the most comfortable,” she said as she opened a door.

      The glow of the small lamp she turned on seemed to mellow the scratched and dented surface of the brass headboard. A large crucifix hung in the shadows just above and reminded him of the one over his grandparents’ bed.

      On the opposite wall, a dresser stood, topped by a mirror.

      Except for the large, boldly done oil painting of a calico cat sitting in the sculptural shade beneath a tree, the room was dated and, Nick suspected, rarely used.

      Kelly switched on the ceiling fan before facing him, her expression grim. It was the first time he’d seen her in reasonably good lighting since leaving her at the hangar. A bruise darkened on her forehead near the scalp, a cut marred the left corner of her swollen lower lip.

      His gaze traveled lower still, to the closed jacket. He knew what it covered. “Maybe I should take a look?” Without asking, he pulled the zipper down.

      She stopped him. He could feel the tremor of her hands where they loosely wrapped his wrist. “No. I’ll do it later. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

      “So he just roughed you up?”

      After several long moments in which he sensed she fought to stay in control, she answered him, her voice so low he barely heard her. “If you’re asking if he raped me, no. He was too busy showing me what could be done with a steel blade and a burlap sack.”

      She lifted her eyes to his and, making no move to cover herself, seemed to almost invite his gaze.

      Her words, the added details, made what she’d gone through СКАЧАТЬ