Desert Ice Daddy (11 page)

Every muscle in his body was drawn hard, focused on the pleasure of her touch, the pleasure that came from him touching her. When she tugged off his shirt all the way, he didn’t protest.

The night breeze glided along his back, cool. Taylor in his arms, hot as fire. He was more than willing to let himself burn up in her flame.

He brushed aside her shirt and wanted badly to take her T-shirt off, but didn’t want to hurt her arm—he no longer felt his own pain. Her T-shirt would stay. A good
limit to set to ensure that things didn’t get out of hand between them.

But he did want another look at that pale yellow bra, so he pushed the T-shirt up. He kissed the underside of her breasts, then found his way to the lace cups. She arched her back when he flicked his tongue against a hardened nipple.

Then he got carried away just a little.

When she made a sound like a woman who desperately needed release, it seemed like the logical thing to unzip her pants and slide his hand inside. His fingers combed through her silky curls, dipped into her moist heat.

She was going for his pants. Absolutely nothing was going to happen, but he had no heart to stop her. He let her do as she wished. And that was when things got dangerous. Because the frantic seconds that followed left him in his underwear. And her pants were tangled up in the pile with his, along with two guns and their knife.

Oh, man.

It only
looked
like something was going to happen, because it wasn’t. Going to. At all.

He started to backpedal to that end. Removing him self from on top of her seemed like a good first step. So he pulled back and sat on the ledge, his back to the outer wall, trying to catch his breath. And congratulated himself for having kept a cool head.

They would catch their breath, suffer some awkward silence, then it would be as if this had never happened.

Which really was the best outcome at this particular mo
ment in time, although definitely not the one every cell in his body was begging for.

Nothing.

Was.

Going.

To.

Happen.

But then she came and straddled him. His hands might have gone to her hips to help her off, but they ended up holding on to make sure she stayed in place. And even as she lowered herself, his body rose on its own. And then he was pressing against her.

Heat.

Friction.

Desire.

They still had some clothes on. Very little, but at least it was something. As long as they had that, they couldn’t get carried away, could they? He put his hands on her underwear to make sure it stayed in place. That worked for about three seconds before his fingers slipped under yellow lace, dipped toward the center from where all the heat seemed to be radiating. She arched her back, and made a low sound in her throat, pressed harder against him. Pleasure spread through him in response, as they rocked against each other. An eternity passed with them lost in each other’s bodies. Old desires heated to a fever pitch, old fantasies coming true at last.

He buried his face between her breasts and pulled her tighter to him if that was possible. Control was slipping
out of his hands. His body sought hers mindlessly. Everywhere they touched, pleasure seemed to seep into him through his very skin.
Slow,
he bade himself. And then moved faster.

Slim fingers teased the elastic band around his waist.

He held his breath.

Her fingers sneaked inside.

A tremor ran through his muscles. Control was what he needed.

Good luck with that.

“Taylor. I’m too—” His voice was so deep and raspy he barely recognized it. And as her fingers closed around him, he couldn’t finish the warning.

Breathe.

Sure, if only that were possible.

They held each other’s gazes as release claimed them at last, and he wished the moon was brighter so he could see her face more clearly.

Then she collapsed into his arms, and he held her, spent in passion, wondering if this was the right time to tell her that he was never going to let her go again.

They were pressed together so tightly, as if fused at the core. Her heart beat wildly against his.

And she still had her T-shirt on.

She lifted her head after a few minutes and looked at him with a dazzled look about her. “What happened?”

“Fate,” he said, and savored the feel of her body entwined with his own, wanting to soak in every second of the reprieve he had a feeling might be very short-lived.

“Anything?” Taylor asked once Akeem had pulled back from surveying the area below. She was ignoring the fact that her body still hummed with pleasure. She hadn’t said two words to him since they had dressed.

And putting clothes on had been quite the trick up on top of a storage tower, in the dark, on a two-foot-wide ledge. How they’d manage to…What had happened
before
the getting-dressed part was another question. Which she was not going to think about. And was definitely not going to talk about with him.

“Don’t do this,” he said.

“See that cloud of guilt?” She pointed above her head. “It can’t be too easy to miss since it’s darker than Hell’s Porch at midnight and twice as large.”

“Don’t do this to yourself.”

She couldn’t address what had happened between them. Absolutely not. Not now, and possibly not ever. “What did you see down there?”

He kept his gaze on her face as if hoping for some
thing else, then let it go after a moment. “They’re still watching. Still in hiding.”

Which meant he couldn’t do a thing to disable them, so she was stuck on the roof with him. Climbing down with the enemy waiting in their secure positions would have equaled suicide. Still, she couldn’t help the guilt that ate at her for forgetting about her mission even for a short while, for giving in to her own need for comfort. She was a mother. She should have no needs. Should not be scared. Should not be exhausted.

“So your grandfather didn’t like this place?” Akeem was examining their hideout on the inside now. “Can’t blame him.”

Something teased the edge of her memory, danced out of grasp before she could snatch it. “He didn’t like the way they treated their employees. Saved a lot of money on safety.” She’d been pretty young back then, didn’t remember much of those conversations among adults.

Her grandfather had been blue collar all the way. Short stints at various refineries, working as a day laborer on the megafarms of the area in between. A decent man if dirt-poor. Akeem’s grandfather had been a sheik. Royalty. According to Flint, he had oil pumps in Beharrain.

But to Akeem’s credit, never once had he let their differences be felt between them. He had, in fact, chosen to make his own fortune instead of taking his share of his grandfather’s billions. She had a feeling there was something other than money he might have wanted from the old man, but never gotten. At least her grandfather had loved her. That was more precious to her than any
financial heritage. Her mother had been a cook—and part-time quilter—and her father a poor ranch hand, but she was proud of them both.

One particular summer night behind the barn floated into her mind, talking about old times by a fire, the whole family lounging around. And she remembered now the story of her grandfather’s best friend’s accident, and the rescue that had come too late for the man. And then it all clicked.

“I know! There’s a ladder somewhere on the inside, too. There’s a maintenance door near the bottom.”

He took her face in his hands and kissed her soundly on the mouth, but she pulled back, then looked away from his searching gaze. An awkward moment passed between them. Then they were moving along the ledge.

“You could stay here until I find a way down,” he said.

She couldn’t have stayed still for all the treasure in the world. She needed to be moving, doing something, anything, that took her closer to Christopher. “I’m going with you.”

To his credit, he didn’t argue. He simply said, “Be careful where you step.”

He was right to be cautious. Judging by the condition of the rest of the structure, stepping on a weak spot and falling straight through was a real possibility.

“What did they keep in these things?” he asked. “Crude oil?”

“No idea.” She followed close behind so she could grab him if he slipped. “All Gramps ever talked about was tar.”

They moved ahead in silence, their full attention on their next step.

“How is your shoulder?” he asked after a while.

All but forgotten. “Okay. How is your leg?”

“Ready for the Texas two-step, anytime you are.” His response was light, but she could see his limp in the moonlight.

Even if the bandage was tight enough to prevent serious blood loss, infection was a distinct possibility. For the both of them. They needed to grab Christopher then get out of here.

“Here we go,” he said as he stopped.

And she could see the open metal trapdoor and the top of a ladder careful not to make too much noise. The smell of gasoline was much stronger here. The space was pitch-dark below them, no telling what they were getting into.

“What if there’s oil or tar or something nasty down there?” Her idea of reaching the ground this way seemed risky and foolish all of a sudden.

“I doubt they’d leave anything valuable behind. But if we hit something sticky, we’ll climb back up. We won’t be any worse off than we are now.”

That made sense. She watched him reach down and shake the ladder. It held. “Might work.” He swung his good leg over first, wouldn’t let go of the opening until he tested that the ladder would hold his weight.

She moved closer.

“Wait until I give some kind of signal,” he said. “I’d rather we went one at a time.”

Which made sense, but she hated staying on the roof all alone. Still, they had no way of assessing how much the rusty ladder could handle. So she nodded and stayed where she was.

The next half hour was nerve-racking. She sat close to the trapdoor, peering into the darkness below without seeing anything, listening for the slightest noise from below.

She didn’t dare shout down to check on him for fear that she would give away what they were doing. And she didn’t dare go after him until he gave a signal, but no signal was coming.

Then, when she was squirming in desperation, and contemplating what she would have to do if he got hurt somehow and there would be no signal coming at all, a gentle tap reverberated up the metal ladder. She offered a quick prayer toward the starlit sky before she grabbed the top of the ladder and climbed after Akeem.

Going over the edge and putting her feet on the top rung was even scarier than she had expected, her step unsure all of a sudden. She could see nothing below. There could be anything down there. She could grab onto a poisonous spider on any of the rungs, or get knocked off by a swarm of bats.

She moved fast, eager to be done with this part and be closer to Akeem, ignoring the pain when the skin pulled around the bullet graze on her shoulder. She didn’t care much about her existing injuries at this point. She was focused on not acquiring any new ones. She
was halfway down when something banged above her, and her only source of light was suddenly shut off.

Somebody had climbed up after them, figured out where they had gone, and had shut the trapdoor.

The enemy knew where they were, and they were trapped once again. And whether there were any combustible materials left over down below or not, she had a feeling that the fumes alone in this place were enough to send it exploding all over creation if someone tossed as much as a single match their way.

She was frozen to the spot where she’d stopped, her fingers fused to the ladder as she gasped for air in the dark. Tense moments passed as she hung on for dear life with white-knuckled hands.

A few seconds passed.

Then a soft whisper came from not too far below. “It’s okay, Taylor. I’m waiting for you down here.”

And she hung on to that voice, trusting it to lead her. She made her limbs obey her once again. An eternity seemed to pass before she made it down all the way and found herself in Akeem’s arms.

“This way.” He pulled her forward.

His night vision must have been much better than hers, as she could barely see his back, but he apparently could tell where they were going since he kept a good pace. She had no choice but to trust herself completely to him, believe his promises at last that he would help her get her son back.

“Do you think they’re waiting for us somewhere ahead?” she whispered.

“I’m sure there is more than one door on this tower.”

A small noise came from the far side of the structure. They stopped to listen, but couldn’t hear anything more.

“Could be just a possum or whatever other animal nests in here.” Akeem resumed walking, drawing her with him, not letting her hand go for a moment.

“Why aren’t they doing more to find us?” They’d taken their sweet time coming after them.

“They probably know who we are and what we want. They know we’ll be coming to them.”

“Then why come after us at all?”

“Could be one of them got antsy waiting. Wanted to play around a little.”

“So you definitely think they’re waiting for us now?”

“Yes.”

She drew a deep breath from the dank, fume-filled air. “Do you think there are only two of them? There were only two pickups at that loading dock. And when we last saw them, there was only one guy in each.”

“Doesn’t mean they didn’t have more here in reserve. It’s always best to be prepared for the worst.”

He sounded calm and collected, reasonable. A far cry from her own state of mind. “How bad do you think it’s going to get?”

Again, she felt a pang of regret that she had dragged him into this, and profound relief that he was here with her.

He stopped and she bumped against his wide back. “What is it?”

“The door.”

“They could be waiting behind it.”

“We’ll know in a minute.” He nudged her to the side. The knob scraped as he turned it.

Fresh air hit her in the face, a sliver of moonlight falling in. He moved forward. She held her breath.

“All clear,” he said.

They moved outside with caution, but it seemed that if the men were waiting for them, they waited at another exit. Akeem said nothing, but pulled a serious-looking handgun from the back of his waistband—the weapon they had found in the dead guy’s pickup—and handed it to her.

She took it and checked it. She had half a magazine’s worth of bullets. She had no trouble with guns. When she rode out to the farthest corners of the ranch, she always carried one for protection from the wildlife.

She was painfully aware that when she fired this piece, she would be shooting at people, and that was a new, disturbing thought.

She turned the gun over in her hand, and thought of the guy Akeem had killed. For her. For Christopher. The full impact hadn’t hit her until now when she had a weapon in her own hands and was preparing to use it if necessary. Akeem had killed for her and was willing to die for her. To save her son. There was no way in the universe she would ever be able to come close to repaying him for all he was doing.

He wasn’t a callous man. What he had done would cost him. She had always thought of him as a gentleman, a consummate businessman, with a sharp mind and a lot of kindness behind those dark eyes. She’d
caught glimpses of fire, too, now and then, fire that, for the most, he kept carefully hidden.

But he was a warrior, too.

A warrior on her side.

“I know I said you should go back—”

“Taylor. Not now. Let’s give that a rest.” The tone of his voice indicated that this particular topic was beginning to try his patience.

“I’m trying to say that I’m really, really happy that you’re here.”

He was silent for a moment. “As I said, I’m not going anywhere without you and Christopher,” he said, then stopped to stare at a stocky building with a tall, round brick chimney towering over it.

If
chimney
was the right word. The thing was more like a skinny tower, situated on the ground next to the building and reaching toward the sky, tapering toward the top.

They could hear voices coming from behind the storage tower they had just left. Two men at least, probably looking for them.

“I think they’re going in the other direction. For now,” Akeem said.

Oh, no.
She had a bad feeling about this. “We are climbing again, aren’t we?”

“From the ground, there is only one way into the building,” he said. “I really think he is here.”

And she had to agree. That was where the pickups were parked.

“So it’s a given that the entrance would be guarded. We can’t go in through there,” he went on.

She really hated what was coming.

“But the chimney runs all the way up the side of the building, and there’s a short connecting bridge up there.” He pointed up.

He did have super vision, she thought after a moment, when after considerable effort she finally made out the dim lines of something that might have been the bridge he was talking about.

“How is your arm?” he asked again.

“Fine.” As long as she didn’t think about it. Which wasn’t hard. Compared to the fact that they could be shot at any minute, compared to her worries about Christopher, the dull throb in her arm barely merited attention.

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “You’re pretty tough, for a girl.”

He’d used to tell her that back in the day all the time. Of course, she’d had a tendency to show off for him back then.

“Did I have to grow up with Flint or what? Self-preservation
was
the name of the game.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “I bet.”

They stood there for a long moment before she realized why they had stopped moving. To reach the chimney they were headed for, they would have to walk out into the open, no other way to get there. He was probably worried. About her. But she couldn’t let that stop him. They were here for Christopher. She was willing to risk any amount of bodily injury to get him back.

So she stepped out of the shadows first and kept low as she ran toward the side of the building opposite them,
her gun ready. There were no windows on this side, but the walls were made of corrugated steel in places and had plenty of holes. If anyone was looking, they’d definitely be seen.

She held her breath until she reached the wall, flattened against it just as Akeem caught up with her a second later.

“Maybe they didn’t see us.” She caught her breath that was labored not from the effort, but from sheer nerves.