Lone Rider (15 page)

And only now did she realize how fully she’d come to de
pend on him for her mental well-
being. He’d protected her, nurtured her.

Dallas
. He had to be all right. And he had to return for her. For sanity’s sake she held on to that thought.

She felt thirsty and tired, but didn’t dare close her eyes. In the short time she’d been locked up she’d realized a surprising thing about herself:
S
he was a fighter. She’d do whatever it took to survive.

She shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. The pantry was not only unheated, there were several holes in the wooden floor that allowed cold, damp air to waft in from what she assumed was a basement below the house.

A faint noise caught her ear. Holding her breath, she listened. There it was again. A slight scraping sound. Followed by a faint squeak.

God, what if Bogen or one of the others was coming for her? How could she possibly stop them?

The noise repeated itself
,
and this time she frowned. It almost sounded as if it came from within the pantry. She peered around in the darkness, unable to see much.

Then it moved. And squeaked again.

A rat.

She tried to scream,
awkwardly
scrambling backwards toward the door. The creature stopped, seemingly frozen in its tracks as it assessed her. She banged her feet on the floor, making as much noise as she could.

The rat retreated and for a moment she thought she’d frightened it off. Until she heard it squeak again.

And heard an answering squeak from its mate.

CHAPTER SIX

By midmorning Dallas and Snake exited the county jail. They were arraigned promptly at nine o'clock and as soon as the judge set bail, Duke posted it.

Getting their motorcycles out of impound, however, wasn't as straightforward.

First they had to wait for
the sheriff's department to ap
prove the release, in triplicate, on the proper form. Then someone had to radio the tow-truck operator to find what he had done with the keys.

What little patience
Dallas
had rapidly disintegrated. For the thousandth time he cursed Snake for his boneheadedness in starting the fight in the first place. And Bogen for insisting that
Dallas
accompany Snake to oversee a routine money drop. In hindsight,
Dallas
questioned Bogen's motives for sending him. It almost seemed Bogen hadn't trusted Snake. Which was odd.

Thrusting. on a pair of sunglasses,
Dallas
silently scruti
nized Snake. Snake's mood
had not improved with their in
carceration.
Dallas
knew he was hung
over, knew he probably had a good size knot on his head from where the deputy had coldcocked him with his baton.

But
Dallas
didn't feel sorry for him. In fact, he felt like punching him. If it weren't for Snake, he wouldn't have been up all night worrying about Tess.

Duke confirmed that she was at the big house, in the pantry.
Dallas
'
conscience spasmed painfully. Spending the night in jail had been a stinging reminder of what life must be like for Tess. Except his loss of freedom had lasted less then twelve hours. And his captors, while they clearly hadn't liked Dallas and Snake, had acted pr
ofessionally, observing Dallas'
and Snake's rights.

How many times had he heard it said that criminals had more rights then their victims? Hell, he'd said it himself on numerous occasions. It was an awful truth.

He scowled, thinking of Tess, what she was going through now, what she'd been through these past two weeks.

And how easy it would be to free her when he got back. He could wait until dark and leave the compound with her. No one would question him. They could be across the state line in two hours. Or in
Canada
.

But could he throw it all away for her? God, he wanted to.

He had the power to make it happen, knew she deserved it.

But so did the others. And his honor-damn it-wouldn't let the story unfold
any differently.
             

*     *     *

Dallas
opened the pantry door, his eyes
taking in the en
tire scene.

Tess was huddled next to the door, her legs bound and curled up close to her body. She'd drawn back at first, her face wild with panic. Recognizing him, she'd started crying hysterically, a pathetic, strangled sound coming from behind the gag.

He stepped over her, kneeling directly in front of her,
pur
posely blocking her view of the dead rat in the opposite corner. The rat's head was bashed; there was blood on the heel of her shoe. He could imagine what had transpired. He tugged the gag away and enfolded her in his arms. She buried her head in his shoulder, against his neck, pressing herself as close to him as she could, the force of her sobs shaking her.

There were no words to make it right, but he said them anyway. Hushed promises, quiet assurances. Soothing sounds
.

He hugged her, held her, rocked her, until at last her sobs softened to a low keening. In spite of her disjointed words, he was able to confirm that she hadn't been physically harmed by Duke or Eddie; nor bitten or scratched by the rat before she killed it.

After removing the cuffs
and freeing her ankles, he mas
saged her shoulders and arms for a few minutes, restoring blood flow, before pulling her to her feet.

"Can you make it to the cabin?" It was tempting just to pick her up and carry her back, but the slight exercise of walking would probably be good for her.

She nodded, then raised her head, searching his eyes. "I'm sorry for whatever I did," she croaked, voice hoarse. "Don't ever leave me like that again."

He brushed a finger over her lips, then rested his hands on her shoulders wrestling against the urge to swallow her slight frame in a crushing bear hug, to beg forgiveness. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"Then what did I do to end up here?"
A single tear es
caped and ran down her cheek. "Is it because-"

"It's nothing you did or didn't do. I got tied up." He looked away briefly not wanting to tell her the truth, afraid that if she knew he'd just gotten out of jail, she'd be even more frightened. "I was worried about you being chained to the bed all night and thought-mistakenly, perhaps-that you'd be better off up here."

His low, caring tone was her undoing. Right now, she'd grant him any wish, forgive him any sin. He'd come back for her, and that was as much a
s she could focus on for the mo
ment.

Leaning forward, she buried her face in the front of his shirt. Her arms threaded tightly around his waist. "Take me home. Please."

Her surrender almost undid
Dallas
. Her words echoed in his mind.
Home.
It was a pl
ace he desperately wanted to re
turn to himself.

But after the last eighteen months, he wondered if he even knew the way.

*     *     *

While Tess showered,
Dallas
changed clothes. He'd taken a shower before leaving jail, and while he wouldn't have minded taking another, he wasn't about to cuff her again.

Instead he made hot cocoa and filled two mugs. He would have preferred to fix her a hearty breakfast, but knew she was too upset to eat. And he wasn't going to push her. They'd eat later.

Right now he was more worried about her frame of mind.

Last night's experience must have been horrendous. Duke and Eddie coming for her. W
hat had she expected? Rape? Tor
ture? Murder?

Then she'd been locked in that rat-infested pantry.
Dallas
had hoped Bogen would have the decency to lock her in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Lousy bastard.

When the bathroom door opened, he saw her poke her head out cautiously, as if checking to see that he was still there. She stepped out, her relief tangible.

"Better?" he asked, crossing to offer her a mug.

She nodded, but remai
ned quiet. Didn't seem to under
stand that he meant for her to take the cocoa.

"Let's get you to bed, then. I know you're exhausted." She shook her head. "No. I'm-" Unshed tears glistened in her eyes, making them appear impossibly bluer. "I don't want to be alone right now."

"Come on." He led the way to the couch, unsure of how to proceed. He didn't know what she needed right now.

But he knew what would make him feel better. He sat down and held out his hand.

''I'd like to hold you, but I'll respect a no."

Tess hesitated only a second, unable to think of one good reason she should refuse the consolation he offered.

Normal reasoning simply did not apply to this situation. She felt as if her psyche had been ripped, battered. As if she'd been cast into a dark pit, and
Dallas
was the only one who shined light her way.

Taking his hand, she let him pull her onto his lap. His strong arms surrounded her, hugging her, making her feel safe. His large hands cradled her head, tucking her neatly against his shoulder as if the spot were made for her alone.

The walls she'd managed to erect around her emotions while in the shower crumbled under his gentle ministrations. In spite of her prior resolve not to speak o
f it, she found her
self telling him about her awful night in the pantry. How afraid she'd been that he wouldn't return.

And once the words started flowing it seemed impossible to stop them. How long they stayed on the couch, she didn't know. Nor did she care. The only thing that seemed to matter
             
in the moment was
the fact that she felt safe.
             

When she quieted,
Dallas
pressed yet another kiss to the top of her head, wondering if she was even aware that he'd done so. Hesitant to break the spell, he broke another rule and asked about her personal life.

"Tell me about your life in
Boston
."

For a moment he thought she'd drifted off. Then she sighed. "I have a town house downtown that I'm trying to sell. I've decided condo life is not for me."

"You want a yard?"

"A farm. With an old barn I can convert into a studio."

Dallas
was finger-combing her hair, torturing himself by separating the thick, damp, strands. "Will you have animals
?”

"Dogs and cats. Mostly dogs probably. To keep my mother away."

Dallas
chuckled. "You'd sic dogs on your own mother?"

Tears stung her eyes. She hadn't meant that the way it sounded. "She's allergic. Or at least that was her excuse when I was a child and wanted one."

"You don't get along with your mother. What about your father and brother?"

She shrugged, uncertain
how to describe her family rela
tionships, puzzled that she even wanted to. "My father's whole life is business. My brother learned early on th
at fol
lowing in his footsteps was
the best way to keep his atten
tion."

"Weren't you tempted to join the family business, too?"

"My father comes from a long line of sexists. He doesn't believe in working women."

Dallas
shifted her slightly, massaging her scalp, wanting her to stay relaxed enough to keep talking. "How did he react to you opening your own shop?"

"He nearly had a stroke. When he realized I was serious, and discovered that I actually had some talent, he insisted I showcase my designs exclusively through the Marsh stores."

"And you said no? How did he take that?"

She made a strangled so
und. "Not well. My father is ac
customed to getting his wa
y no matter how many vice presi
dents, managers, secretaries, or wives he has to fire. He didn't like the fact his own daughter opened a shop in downtown.
Boston
. We get along fine, now. In spite of his idiosyncrasies, I love him. And miss him. Especially now. My mother, too."

For a few moments the silence hung heavy between them, then Tess spoke again. 'Tell me about your life,
Dallas
. Where did you grow up?"

He intended to lie, but when he opened his mouth, the truth dropped out.

"
Pennsylvania
." He skipped over his years in college and offered another half-truth. "I moved around a lot as a kid, then eventually joined the Army."