Steal My Heart (7 page)

“Calm down.” Her captor’s voice was cold, toneless.

Maggie swallowed, her parched lips fusing together. They both waited silently, her heart thumping a violent cadence. She guessed he was hoping that David would give up and go away.
He didn’t know David
.

“I know you’re in there! Don’t tell me you’re still mad?”

“Who is he?” Gabe asked.

Her eyes darted about restlessly. She almost bit through her lip; her nerves electrified beneath her skin.

“Ah… he’s my boyfriend,” she heard herself say. At his silence, she continued quickly, “So…you had better leave! You can go through a window. Go now before he finds you here!” She was still facing forward with him behind her, so she couldn’t see his face. She could only hope he was starting to feel threatened.

“Boyfriend?”

She nodded vigorously. “Yep. And he’s huge! Tough! And very jealous!” Her voice was bumpy with a shrill tremor.

David continued. “Mag, you better open this door!”

“He’ll rip your head off!” Maggie warned.

She gasped when he turned her around and leveled his gaze with hers. He held the gun up directly in her line of sight. Black eyes bore into hers, malice swirling in their depts. A cold chill blew over her at his next words, and she felt her heart stutter for a moment.

“Get rid of him, or I will kill him.”

She didn’t doubt the veracity of his threat as she searched the dark whirlpool of his gaze. She was looking for a gentler man she sometimes caught glimpses of.
No
. The man in front of her had murdered before, had stolen data of monumental significance, and was capable of a thousand more atrocities. She stepped back and took a deep breath, swallowing nervously. She tucked her unruly waves behind her ears and straightened her robe.

“You should really go while you can. He can be vicious,” she urged again, hoping he’d believe her and make a mad dash for the window. Instead, he stared impassively, his forehead deeply pleated, his tenebrous eyes calculating.

“I’ll be right here, watching. My gun will be aimed at his head.”

She winced, turned abruptly, and marched towards the vigorous pounding at her door. She struggled hard to hold back her tears, knowing that it would do David no good to see them. With a heavy heart she pulled open the door.

David fell headlong into her apartment. He’d probably been leaning on the door trying to peer in through her peep hole. He was a whirling dervish of flailing arms and legs, pink tulle and silk fluttering everywhere. He suddenly righted himself and gaped at her. His brown eyes were large and round like a doe’s.

“Oh my God, what took you so long?”

Maggie groaned inwardly, staring at the jealous maniac who was supposed to rip apart her captor. “I—ah, I was in my bedroom and didn’t hear the door.”

“I thought you were still mad at me because I teased you about your hot hobo.” He grinned.

She groaned again, this time out loud. She threw a circumspect gaze towards her bedroom door, knowing he was watching through the crease.

“Well?” David asked excitedly, performing a complete pirouette so she could observe the full magnificence of his outfit. He had omitted the jeans and tee shirt this time.

Maggie’s glance flickered. She let it rove over his frame. A full bell shaped tutu hugged his slim form with the short full lavender skirt that flared out to a delicate lace trim. Layers of netting caused it to splay away from his hairy legs.

“I know, I need a shave,” he announced flatly, following her gaze.

“Yes, you do,” she retorted quietly, her gaze moving up to the sparkly pink bodice.

“You like?” he asked hopefully.

“It’s better than the other one,” she said, and hoped he could see her lack of enthusiasm.

“I think with some sparkle tattoos and lilac eye shadow this will be
phatabulous
!” He punctuated his words with a leap through the air.

Her head inadvertently twisted towards her bedroom, her brows furrowing. She could feel sweat running down her back.
Would he really shoot David?

“What’s the matter?” David asked suddenly.

Her gaze swung back to him, her fearful eyes wide.

“And why are you wearing your bathrobe?” his eyes narrowed suspiciously at her.

She gulped nervously and stared blankly at him.

“Is something wrong?” he pressed.

Her heart jumped erratically in her chest.
God, she had to get him out of there; she had to get him out of danger.

“No,” she denied sharply. “I—ah, ah, have company.”

She watched David’s jaw unhinge from his head and his brown eyes bulge. He hooked a finger towards the bedroom. “You mean you got a
man
in there?”

She nodded, hoping to convince him, yet hoping he’d know that something was amiss. She never entertained men in her apartment.

Instead, he gave a wide toothy grin and snickered. “You dirty, dirty girl.” He chuckled, his gaze landing on the partially open bedroom door. “Good for you! It’s been a long time! I was afraid you’d wear out your—”

“David!”

Maggie sighed wearily, a frown pinching her face. David looked at her, and she could see him misread her distress.

“Oh, did I interrupt something?” His hand fluttered to his chest, and she watched him finger the lilac sequins. “Sorry.” He looked contrite, then grinned happily. “You go,
girl!
Get down with your
bad
self!”

Maggie wanted to cry. Under normal circumstances, she and David would be doing some stupid dance right now. Instead, her friend had a gun pointed at his head and there was a maniac in her bedroom.

“David, you should go.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow for the details.” He winked, pulled the door open, and skipped into the hallway.

Maggie closed the door and sagged against it, her eyes closed in relief and despair. She felt drained from that nerve wracking encounter. Thank God her friend was safe!
But what about me?
At length she peeled her lids open. She was not surprised to see the large form facing her, standing just a few feet away. Thank God there was no sign of the gun. She touched her fingers to her temples, trying to stem the threatening headache. His head was crooked to the side. His handsome face boldly assessed her and a perplexed look carved his expression.

“That’s your boyfriend?” he asked skeptically.

Maggie huffed, determined to not cower from him. “What’s it to you?”

She watched him shake his head slowly. “No wonder you need the little item in your bottom drawer.”

Her gaze tracked him as he turned and walked away. Flames licked at her body and she knew her face blotched a bright red. Something like a whimper passed her lips as she tried hard to stifle her mortification.
Oh God…
had she not suffered enough indignities? She knew he’d seen
it
, but prayed
it
would never be spoken of.
She hated him!

A few hours later, Maggie struggled to keep conscious. She’d given up asking the intruder for his plans on vacating her apartment. After forcing her assistance with changing the dressing on his sutures, he’d basically ignored her. He’d kept his back to her as he skimmed through what seemed like infinite pages of technical data on the computer screen. She found she couldn’t keep up with him, and wondered briefly if he had a photographic memory.

At her pleading he’d at least allowed her a shower. With his hovering presence it was difficult to perform her thorough ablutions, but at least she felt moderately clean. Now in sweatpants and a tank top, she sat on the bed regarding the sculpted line of his back. He was wearing black jeans and a black tee shirt that molded to his chiseled physique. Every stretch or flex of muscle tested the thin material, and she pondered the enigma that usurped her space.

She yawned loudly.
Who was he? What was his connection to the Sonic Scalpel? Had he really stolen the research data? Why? What was he planning on doing with it?
This research could save countless lives.
Did he kill those three men?
Despite his rough edges and harsh demeanor, deep down she had a hard time believing he was a murderer. Yes, he certainly had the capacity to kill, but murder was something different entirely.

“Did you murder those men?” she heard herself ask, her quiet voice fracturing the silence. She wasn’t sure he’d heard her but then saw the evidence in the bulge of his tense shoulders. It was a protracted moment before he turned around.

Another moment slipped by as his hard gaze searched her face. His jaw clenched tightly.

“Have no illusions, Maggie. I’m a killer.”

“Did you
murder
those three men?” She didn’t know why the distinction meant so much to her.

He frowned. “One, no. Two, yes. In self-defense.” It seemed to cost him something to admit that.

She nodded curtly and exhaled the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “Would you have killed David?”

He turned back to the computer, silently dismissing her.

“Tell me the truth.”

“Are you still worried about your boyfriend?” She thought she heard amusement in his voice.

“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s my best friend. He lives across the hall. I don’t want him harmed.”

“Go to sleep, Maggie.”

Realizing she’d get no more out of him, she rolled over on her side, resting her head on her clasped hands. A thought circled through her mind, creating a spiral of anxiety that made her restless. She sat up.

“Uumm…where’re you going to sleep?”

“Go to sleep, Maggie,” he said again without turning around.

She gave a long-suffering sigh and rolled over on her side, away from him. Myriad thoughts ran rampant through her brain. There was no way she could sleep while he was in the room, let alone if he was in the same bed. She would force herself to stay awake all night if she had to!

Gabe swung his head from side to side, trying to work out the kinks in his neck. He’d been at the computer for hours and still had only gotten through a third of the data contained on the flash drive. Part of his distraction, he knew, was the puzzling woman solidly asleep behind him. She was smart, and brave, and foolish, and sexy and…he swiveled in his chair and observed her sleeping form…so very tempting, even with her loud wake-the-neighborhood snoring. She was out cold. His gaze slid across her pouty lips. Even in repose she defied him. He scanned her body. Her ass was deliciously round beneath her sweats, and her breasts a virtual bounty he ached to feast on. He felt desire stir at the thought. Although half the time he wanted to throttle her, the other half he wanted to sink his cock into her lush body. He groaned and dragged a hand through his hair. Abandoning any hopes of getting more done tonight, he turned off the computer and pulled out the flash drive.

He’d known that he’d been hired to procure valuable data, but had had no idea it was this significant. He rolled his shoulders, working out his stiff left arm. He never really cared about what he stole. His requisite investigation of an assignment basically ended with its feasibility. He was hired because he was good at what he did—getting impossible things done for large sums of money without asking too many questions. And he never got involved in the essence or often ambiguous morality of what he was hired for. He always kept it simple. No emotional ties. He did what had always had come easy to him, and his training as a SEAL was an added bonus.

There was something, though, about this job that bothered him. He wished he could put his finger on it, but whatever it was kept eluding him. How had that disembodied voice in the alley known his given name? It had been careless of him to leave the cell phone behind with those bodies. It would have given him valuable information. He never would have made such a mistake years ago. Perhaps he was growing apathetic, reckless. He wondered fleetingly why he’d even taken the job.

The past few years he’d been accepting fewer and fewer requests for his services, preferring to exist alone with his demons and guilt. It wasn’t as if he needed the money. He cleared his throat. He knew exactly why he’d taken the job.
Harry
. It wasn’t often that Harry begged him a favor. Plus, the assignment had seemed straightforward, easy. He realized now
too
easy. He needed to have a chat with Harry. He’d met him in SEAL training. They were like two lost souls fighting the hounds of hell. Harry had lost the battle, and after sustaining life threatening injuries had to leave after only ten months.

He couldn’t believe it had been five years already since
he’d
walked away from the SEALs. He grimaced. That seemed to be his MO. Despite pressures from his family, he’d left Harvard business school and joined the Navy at the ripe young age of twenty three. The death of his father had been unbearable. The combination of his rage and guilt had ironically fueled the stamina and discipline he’d needed to get through BUD/S training and move into Tactical.

Completing his requirements in record time, he’d quickly joined a Platoon and was deployed overseas. At first, each assignment had given him the numbing adrenaline rush he’d craved. He’d excelled in every aspect of SEAL life. Until that one mission that had left a void in his soul, and he’d realized he couldn’t do it anymore. He’d quit. It had only been his family’s influence that had saved him from his superiors. He guessed he owed one thing to the Masters’ name.

Determinedly pushing away his thoughts, he refocused on the woman in the bed. He wasn’t planning on intruding on her much longer. Now that he had the drive, he could move on. He’d leave before sunrise. He didn’t want to wear out his welcome. He smiled slowly. Not like he’d ever had one. All he needed was a few hours rest and he’d be good to go. He didn’t want to examine his nagging melancholy at the thought of never seeing her again. Ignoring it, he flicked off the light in the room.

Because he’d drawn all the curtains there was no ambient illumination, and the room was smothered in darkness. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the murky hue. As was his habit, he slipped his gun beneath his pillow and lay fully dressed on the bed. The dip in the mattress caused Maggie to shift in her sleep, and like a contented kitten, she snuggled intimately against him. Her warm curves molded to him, sending a flare of heat racing through his groin.
Shit!
He’d never get any sleep now. He was already rock hard and aching. Calling on his famed discipline, he took a deep breath and forced his heart rate to slow to a lazy throb.