In Broad Daylight (15 page)

with.

"No," he replied firmly. "But I'd have to be getting nervous about getting away with it.

There are going to be a lot of eyes focused on that bag of money when it finally gets left

for pick up," he pointed out.

"Maybe the guy thinks he's more clever than the police. You know, maybe he fancies

himself some kind of criminal mastermind.Pride Goeth Before a Fall,and all that sort of

thing."

She had a point. More than one criminal sitting in a state prison had been instrumental in

tripping himself up because he underestimated the police and overestimated his own

resourcefulness.

"Maybe," he agreed.

Angling his watch, he tried to make out the face. It was almostnine o'clock. There was no

point in going back to theTylers' tonight. The atmosphere there had to be nothing short of

incredibly tense.

"You hungry?"

Other than the fries he'd grabbed at Hamburger Heaven this morning for breakfast,

they'd stopped at a drive-through for sandwiches aroundnoon. But right now, that felt like

a hundred years ago.

As if in response to his words, she thought she heard her stomach rumble. Brenda

pressed her palm against the area. Now that she no longer began each day with a ten-

minute purging session on her knees in the bathroom, she had rediscovered her appetite,

which had always been a healthy one. Prior to her unexpected pregnancy, she'd always

been blessed with a metabolism that emulsified food almost before it hit her stomach.

She wondered if being pregnant was going to change that.

"I could eat," she allowed.

A horse, if that rumbling of her stomach was any indication, he thought with a grin. "So

could I. How about a place where we don't have to lean over a metal counter to place our

order?"

"You mean a real restaurant?" She grinned when he nodded. "Sounds good to me."

It did to him, too, Dax thought as he started up the engine in his car.

«^»

"
S
o, tell me about this screenplay you're writing," Brenda said in between bites of a chicken quesadilla that was so good, it was carrying on an open flirtation with her taste

buds.

Dax couldn't help thinking his uncle Andrew would really like this woman. She did enjoy

her food. "I told you, I'm not writing it, I'm just putting notes together, that's all."

She raised her eyes to his. He was being deliberately evasive. Had she found a weak spot?

He seemed so confident otherwise. "But notes mean that you intend to write it."

"Someday," he qualified, "when I'm old and gray and I'm on the sidelines because they won't let me play anymore."

Brenda paused to take a sip of soda before asking, "Is that how you see it? Playing?"

He was quick to correct the frivolous impression she'd obviously gotten of his approach to

crime. "Being a player rather than someone on the outside. The game of life can be very

serious."

Her eyes narrowed as she absorbed his words. "So life is a game?"

He shrugged. Things were serious, but you couldn't take themtooseriously or they would

paralyze you if something really went wrong. "It depends on how you look at things. In a

way, everything's a game. There are always winners and losers."

"How about just content people?"

"Thosearethe winners."

"I see." Brenda rolled his words over in her head as she savored her meal. And then she smiled. "Youarea philosopher."

He shook his head. Philosophers were people who went around and around about things,

ending up nowhere. He was just telling her what worked for him. "Just somebody with a

healthy attitude, that's all."

She laughed. He was deeper than he looked. "I'd like to see those notes of yours

someday."

Dax took her at her word. He paused to think it over, then shrugged carelessly as he went

on eating. "Sure, why not? After this is over."

After this is over.

Did that mean he wanted to see her once he had put this case behind him and there was

no need for them to interact? Or was he just making polite conversation, giving her a

throwaway line the way people did when they didn't know what to say?

Looking at him, she couldn't tell. She felt too drained to try to come to some kind of

reasonable conclusion tonight. But it did have a nice sound to it.

She changed the topic, returning to what was on both their minds. "You know, this is

pretty nerve-racking, not having him call after we got the picture." She ran her teeth

along her lower lip, working at her words, her concern. "Do you think something happened?"

Dax broke off another piece of bread and ate it without butter. "I'd be lying if I didn't

say that was a possibility."

Trying to gauge his tone got her nowhere. "But you don't think so?"

"What I think is that the kidnapper is enjoying torturingTyler."

It was far the lesser of the two evils. But she needed reasons, something she could

believe in beyond her own prayers. "What makes you so sure?"

"Because otherwise, he would have already named the drop off point." He noticed she'd

finished her soft drink. Raising a hand, he signaled to the waitress, then pointed at

Brenda's glass. The woman nodded and hurried away. "Most kidnappers—if they're not

snatching a kid for perverse reasons or because they want a kid of their own and don't

have one for one reason or another—want the whole thing to be over as soon as possible.

They want to get their hands on the money."

The waitress returned with a fresh glass, exchanging it for the almost empty one in front

of Brenda then retreated. Brenda waited until she was gone before continuing.

"Since you think he wants to hurt Simon, do you think…" The words refused to come in an orderly fashion, jumbling on her tongue. She tried again. "Do you think that he'll return

Annie to her family?"

He heard the emotion in her voice, saw the tears suddenly shining in her eyes. His gut told

him that the answer to her question was no and that she knew it as well as he did. The

ultimate revenge onTylerwould be to make him twist in the wind, then collect his money and

still do away with the little girl.

But Brenda wasn't asking for him to confirm her fears. She was silently asking him for

something to cling to.

"Most people don't want to kill," he told her, leaving the borders deliberately vague.

"Especially not a defenseless little girl."

Brenda stared at her glass, watching the drops of moisture chase one another down the

side, forming small rivulets.

Most people.

He'd gone from the specific to the general. She knew it was the best she could hope for.

That, and maybe a miracle. She nodded slowly, accepting his terms. "Most people," she

echoed.

As she drained her glass of soda, Dax looked at her plate. There was nothing left on it,

not even the sprig of parsley. She'd certainly been hungrier than he'd thought. "Want

anything else?"

She shook her head. This marked the first full meal she'd actually had since her morning

sickness had stopped. It felt good to feel full without the threat of nausea taking it all

away again.

But there was a tightness in her stomach that had nothing to do with morning sickness

and everything to do with the situation that existed. The entire situation. Annie, the man

sitting opposite her, the baby she hadn't told anyone about. Everything.

Her nerves felt as if they were on the verge of snapping apart like so many pop-beads.

She forced herself to focus only on his question. "No, this was fine. Thank you." She took a breath. She felt more staffed than she'd thought. All too soon, she thought ruefully,

she was going to look pretty stuffed as well. "I think I'd better get home."

Dax nodded. He looked around for their waitress again, holding his hand up for the check.

But when they arrived at her door, Brenda found that she didn't want to be alone. She

wasn't tired anymore. The sensation of moving through molasses she'd been struggling

with earlier had completely disappeared and she knew she wasn't going to be able to sleep.

Most likely, she was going to spend a very restless night, thinking about Annie, about the

possibilities they hadn't put into words.

Taking out her key, she looked at him. "Would you like to come in?"

There was a street lamp not fifteen feet away from her front door. The illumination

pooled just before them, leaving her half in light, half in shadow. And completely enticing.

Everything within him told him that saying "yes" wasn't a good idea. That once he crossed the threshold into her ground floor apartment, he'd be crossing another threshold as well.

There was no question in his mind, no doubt. It was just a given.

He could feel it in his bones, see it in her eyes.

Dax stood outside, knowing he should say something polite about the hour and about their

both needing their sleep.

As if reading his mind, she said, "I don't think I can sleep."

"And you want me to bore you to death with a verbal recitation of those notes I've

written for that screenplay in my distant future?" he teased.

He made her smile. More than that, for some reason she couldn't put into words, he made

her feel safe. Just having him close by seemed to keep away the bad thoughts that

threatened to haunt her.

"No." She looked up into his eyes. "I don't want to be alone tonight."

The honest admission undid him. Dax followed her inside.

The moment the door was closed and she turned to him, the tempo was set.

Dax framed her face with his hands and kissed her. Slowly at first, savoring the contact

while still leaving her an opening. Letting her back away at the last minute if she came to

her senses. Because, it was apparent to him, he wasn't going to come to his. Not with this

feeling she'd generated within him. This need to have her.

But instead of resisting, instead of taking a step back, Brenda leaned into his kiss. Twining

her arms around his neck, she silently surrendered herself to him.

It was all he needed.

The rest happened as if it had been orchestrated by an unseen hand that belonged to a

force which was far greater than him.

The kiss deepened, taking them both somewhere outside the realm of mere human beings

who sought one another for comfort within an uncomfortable world. Dax felt his body

instantly ignite. He pressed her closer to him, savoring her softness, the way her body

melted into his.

It was as if all this had been waiting for him, whether to tease him by saying that this was

possible, or by giving him a single glimpse before irreversibly shutting the doors, he didn't

know, but somewhere in his soul, ever since he'd kissed her last night, he'd known that this

moment was here.

It was as close to perfect as he'd ever encountered.

His arms tightened around her as needs and urges rushed over him, demanding instant

gratification. He held them off, struggling for the upper hand, struggling to go slowly

because this, something whispered in his brain, this was different. This wasn't like all the

other pleasurable couplings he'd enjoyed.

He couldn't explain why or how, but he just knew. This was different. And he meant to

enjoy it for as long as he was allowed.

Was she crazy?

The question hammered in Brenda's head to the same beat her heart had assumed. She

had no answer for that. The immediate one would have been "yes." Yes, she was crazy.

Crazy for a multitude of reasons. She was pregnant, she hardly knew this man, she wasn't

the type to do this kind of thing. Besides Wade, there'd never been any one else. No other

lovers. It just wasn't her way.

And yet, here she was, initiating this, inviting this man into her home. Into her body. And

she wasn't doing anything to stop it.

She couldn't.

She wanted this too much. Electricity hummed through her, lighting her up from the

outside in. Chasing away the shadows. Filling her.

She'd felt so hollow. Long before Annie's abduction, she'd felt something was missing

from her life. Perhaps had never been there in the first place. She'd hoped, prayed that

being Wade's wife would fill that void. Would succeed in making her world whole.

But it hadn't. It had been a disappointment.

She was no longer physically or mentally abused, but she was still adrift. Still alone,

despite the man who slept beside her whenever duty didn't take him away. This was

different.

For the first time in her life, she felt she was with someone. She didn't feel alone. She

knew it had to be her vulnerability talking, or maybe she was just out of her head. Maybe

everything had conspired together to push her over the brink and she couldn't reason

properly any more, but she didn't want to know the reasons, didn't want the explanations.

What she wanted were the sensations that raced up and down her body, setting her on

fire, making her yearn.

There was nothing and no one except this man with the magic mouth, with the enchanted

hands that seemed to know just where to touch her, where to caress her. Her body

hummed like an instrument long left unattended in the corner, relegated to the shadows,

but was now rendering a wondrous melody.

One by one, gently and with tenderness, he'd taken her clothes from her body, in the end

setting more than her flesh free. He'd somehow found the key to unlock her soul as well