T
EN
A
lyssa watched Creek drive, fighting the guilt trying to creep into her mind. She’d judged and accused him. The disappointment in his eyes was far too familiar for her to miss, and considering how much pain that emotion had caused her over the years, she felt sick that she’d inflicted it on someone else. On
him
.
She remained quiet as he drove, unsure what to say. Unsure how to feel. Her body was still buzzing, her lips still burning from those kisses. In just twelve hours her life had been turned inside out, her future thrown to the wind, all her hard work trampled. She was now bound to a stranger who had evidently committed the hideous murder of someone he’d supposedly cared about, but part of her simply couldn’t reconcile the man with the act.
As they hit the edge of town, she studied his profile, trying to gauge his state of mind. When she couldn’t evaluate his expression, she found her gaze drawn to his mouth. He was a forceful, hungry kisser. An amazing kisser. Passionate, the way he encompassed her in his arms as if he wanted to own her. Erotic, the way he’d responded to the advance she hadn’t been able to keep herself from making, the way he’d rubbed his hips against hers. And that erection. Criminy. She wiped a hand across her damp forehead. Just the memory caused a burst of white-hot fire between her legs. He was a freaking rock-hard ball of fire. And he was big. Like ... wow.
Not that it mattered. She was sure he’d be an awesome lover, regardless. Passionate, intense, demanding and erotic. He’d be like no other man she’d ever known, no doubt in her mind. He’d already blown every one of her past boyfriends out of the kissing department.
“Didn’t your mother teach you staring is rude?”
Alyssa’s gaze jumped back to Creek’s eyes, where he split his attention between her and the road, looking both concerned and irritated.
“You shouldn’t have kissed me.” The words hung between them. “There’s a line, you know? We have to draw a line in the sand and stay behind it.”
He hesitated, looking at her as if he didn’t quite understand what she’d said. Then a little grin tipped his mouth. “Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?”
“Shut up.”
The little grin grew into a smile that held more irony than humor. “I may have started it, but, damn girl, you finished it.”
Heat rushed her cheeks. Her chest. “Shut. Up.”
He snorted a laugh, propped his elbow on the door and ran his fingers over his mouth, reminding Alyssa how he’d rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip before he’d kissed her again. The gesture so sweet just before he’d taken her mouth like a man possessed. She could still feel the sizzle of it to her toes.
Her mind traveled to all the wrong destinations. Her body pulsed with heat in all the wrong places. She looked straight ahead out the window as the sunrise cast a coral glow on the horizon. “Can I call my dad now?”
A heavy sigh rocked Creek’s wide shoulders. “Will you sleep for twelve hours if I let you?”
“Probably not twelve, but I promise to stop talking for a while.”
“Define ‘a while.’ ”
“At least two hours.”
He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he rolled the thought over in his mind. She could tell by his expression that he was going to cave, which gave her the opportunity to enjoy the sexy twist of his mouth as he pretended to consider.
“Two hours isn’t much for that kind of risk.”
“Give it up. You’re transparent. And I won’t relent until I talk to him.”
“Transparent,” he repeated, and his brow lifted as he thought about the comment. Then out of nowhere he asked, “Is your mother dead?”
“No. Why?”
He shrugged. “I expected you to ask for her, that’s all.”
No, Alyssa didn’t want to talk to her mother. Especially not now. “Stop stalling and give me the phone.”
He dug the cell out of his back pocket and held it out to her. “Conditions.”
“I know.” Alyssa rolled her eyes. “No hints, no codes. Blah, blah, blah.”
“And the conversation is on speaker.”
Discomfort trickled into her belly. “Why?”
“I think that’s obvious.” He lifted his brows at her. “Problem?”
She couldn’t—no matter how she tried to force her eyes to stay locked on his—keep her gaze from falling to his mouth. Dammit.
She swept the phone from his hand. “Fine.”
Now that she was holding it, her mind veered toward her family. Would talking to her father make his anxiety worse? What would she say? And, her mother ... She cringed.
“Change your mind?” Creek asked.
“No, I’m trying to figure out how to tell them a lunatic kidnapped me and that I don’t know where we’re going or when I’ll be home, or even
if
I’ll be home, in a way that won’t freak them out and make things worse.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t call.”
“No.” She’d learned better during her years in medicine. “Knowing, no matter how bad, is always better than not knowing.”
Dialing, Alyssa prayed her father would answer. He was usually the only one up at this hour of the morning, and definitely the only person she wanted to talk to.
“Speaker,” Creek said. “And make it quick.”
Alyssa pressed the speaker button and the ring at her parents’ home filled the car.
On the second ring, a rough, breathless, expectant, “Hello,” came over the line.
She hesitated, confused to hear her twin brother’s voice. “Mitch?”
“Oh, my God, Lys! Are you okay? Where are you?”
She darted a look at Creek and found him watching her with only occasional glances at the road. She pointed to her own eyes with two fingers, then at the road and mouthed
watch where you’re going
. His lids dropped low in warning before he turned away.
“Alyssa?” Her brother’s worried voice redirected her.
“Yes, I’m here. I called to tell Dad that I’m okay. Can I talk to him?”
“Not until you talk to me. Where are you?”
“I, um, can’t say.”
“Is he right there? Are you still with him?”
“Yes. How’s Dad taking it?”
“How do you think he’s taking it? He’s a mess.”
Alyssa’s brain tightened as her thoughts sharply refocused. “Have you taken his blood pressure? Are the nitroglycerin patches handy?”
“Hold on. You’re the one who’s God only knows where with some fucking murderer—”
“Mitch, don’t swear.” She cast a look at Creek, whose hands were wringing the steering wheel, mouth pressed into a hard frown. “I’ve heard enough to last me the rest of my life.”
“You’re the one I’m worried about,” he continued, talking over her as he often did. “Give me something to go on, Lys, anything.”
Creek lifted a hand and gestured in a circle, a get-going sign.
“I can’t talk long. Put Dad on the phone.”
“You tell that motherfucking sonofabitch that I’m going to make sure he is prosecuted to within an inch of his life.”
“He’s already got a life sentence, Mitch—”
“Then I’m going to nail his ass to the electric chair. He picked the wrong people to fuck with. I’ve got my best two investigators on your trail, Lys. We’ll find you soon. Here’s Dad.”
A moment of silence passed before her father came on the line. “Lyssie, baby? You there?”
“Yeah, Dad—” A thick shot of emotion clogged her throat. She swallowed past it, but her voice still came out rough. “I’m here.”
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she lied.
“What can we do, baby?” His voice was smooth and calm, but Alyssa heard the hidden fear. “How can we help?”
Tears burned her eyes. “You can take care of yourself, Dad. I called to let you know that I’m all right so you won’t stress. I want you to take your medicine and do what Mitch tells you to do.”
Creek lifted a hand beside her and snapped his fingers to get her attention, then made a cutting gesture over his throat.
“For God’s sake, Lys,” her father continued. “Don’t worry about me.” Her mother’s voice droned in the background, running over her father’s, which was probably where Mitch had picked up the habit. “Hang tough, sweetheart. I love you. Here’s your mother.”
“What? No, Dad wait—”
“Alyssa Naoko.” Alyssa flinched at her mother’s harsh voice. “Didn’t I tell you not to take that job? Those ridiculous hours, that low-life population and crime-ridden city ...”
In her peripheral vision, Alyssa saw Creek’s head whip toward her. She swore she could feel the heat of his stare on her face.
“Mom, please—”
“But do you ever listen? No. You always have to be the best. You always have to go after the biggest challenge. One day, young lady, one day, that hard head of yours will get you—”
Creek jabbed at the receiver, hitting the disconnect button. Startled, Alyssa looked up at him. His brow was a tight vee of wrinkles, and the dark spark in his eye reminded her of when they’d first met.
“You just hung up on
my mother
,” Alyssa said, caught between shock and anger.
“She deserved it.” He stuffed the phone between the driver’s seat and the center console. “How is it that I can’t say ‘boo’ to you without raising your hackles, yet she can ream you without even a tap on the wrist?”
“Why do you care?”
“You’ve been kidnapped by a convicted murderer and she yells at you like it’s your fault?” Anger seethed through his words. “That’s no way for a parent to act. It’s no wonder you’re a daddy’s girl.”
A different kind of emotion tightened Alyssa’s chest. Only Mitch and her father had ever pushed her mother back during one of her famous tirades. But Teague hadn’t only pushed her back, he’d knocked her out.
Teague
. Alyssa realized it was the first time she’d thought of him by his first name.
The car went over a dip in the road, jolting Alyssa. Her ribs compressed and released, punching a burst of pain through her abdomen. The cuffs on her wrist jangled against the door, and reality rushed back in a hard smack.
She sat in a stolen car, handcuffed to the door with a convicted murderer-slash-arsonist, headed for God only knew where for no coherent reason—
Arsonist
.
Alyssa’s head turned sharply toward Teague.
“What now?” he asked.
“Your ... whatever it is ... ability-thing. You said you can’t control it. It gets out of hand when you’re angry. Is that what happened? With your girlfriend?”
He looked at her in pissed-off confusion. Then her meaning clicked. His face smoothed into a mask of indifference.
“Naoko?” he changed the subject again. “You lied about your last name, too? Are you even a doctor?”
“Naoko is my middle name, genius.” Alyssa’s teeth gnashed. “Talk about evasion. You’re a master.”
“Japanese?”
“And Philippino and Irish and Italian, yes. You have a problem with that?”
“No, I don’t have a problem with that,” he snapped right back, “but I would have guessed Hawaiian or Hispanic or, yeah, maybe Italian. You don’t look Asian.”
“I did to Taz. And what’s with those tattoos of yours? The ones that fade? Did you use black henna? Do you realize that stuff seeps through your skin and poisons your bloodstream? You’re not going to have to worry about an electric chair. You’ve probably shortened your life span fifty years with that stuff.”
“It’s not black henna,
genius
. It’s ink from a plant that grows in the rainforest. Completely harmless.”
“How in the hell did you get ink like that in prison? And why waste your time if they’re going to wash off?”
“You can get anything you want in prison, if you know how to go about getting it. And, inside, fitting in is more important than anything else. Being who they expect you to be means life or death.” He changed gears again. “Does Naoko mean something?”
Alyssa snorted. “Obedient.”
“That conversation makes a whole lot more sense now.”
“Well, I’m glad someone got something out of it.” Other than heartache. Alyssa always got plenty of that from her mother.
“What about your brother? You said he’s a defense attorney, but he was mouthing off about prosecution.”
“He used to work for the D.A. Still has friends and contacts there.”
“Let me get this straight. I not only have the cops after me for escaping, but the F.B.I. for kidnapping, and now private investigators have jumped on the bandwagon.”
“Sounds like.” She let her head rest against the seat, suddenly exhausted despite the fact that she’d slept deeply and dreamlessly the night before.
“And on top of that,” he continued, “I’ve committed a dozen felonies in the last twenty-four hours, all of which you’ve witnessed.”