Authors: Diana Duncan
BULLETPROOF BRIDE (4 page)
"All right." He stroked her hair. "Let go of me so I can get the launch."
She managed to unclamp her fingers, and he rose. Arms wrapped around herself, she huddled on the deck, trapped in the nightmare that had haunted her since age six. She squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to breathe.
"Hang tight, sweetheart." His footsteps faded. Thumps, a metallic clang and a dull bang sounded. Minutes later, he returned. "I take it you don't swim."
She shuddered.
"Yeah, big surprise. Put this on." He helped her into a neon orange lifejacket. "All set, let's go."
"Aren't you going to wear one?" she gasped.
"I'm more at home in the water than in my own bedroom." He chuckled. "And I've got the big
ol
' frog's feet to prove it."
With his hands supporting her, she pushed upright on wobbly legs. He urged her toward the rail. She caught sight of the dark, churning water and jerked to a stop, digging in her heels.
"Tessa," Gabe spoke with quiet patience. "The only way to get to dry land is to climb into the launch."
"I can't." Caught between two agonizing, impossible choices and crazed with terror, she whimpered. "Hit me."
"What?"
"Hit me; knock me out. I'll never make it to shore."
He sighed. "Close your eyes."
Desperate, she obeyed. But instead of the blow she expected, he swept her up into his arms.
"I've never hit a woman in my life, and I'm not about to start with you," his satin voice murmured into her ear. "Even we bank robbers have our principles. Hang on."
Eyelids squeezed tight, she clung to him. His rock-hard biceps bunched, a door creaked, and then holding her with one arm, he stepped downward. The splashing grew louder. He lowered her to a cold metal bench that rocked wildly. She gripped the edge so hard her fingers ached.
"Keep those eyes shut," he commanded before moving away.
Ragged breaths raced in and out of her dry throat, but she obeyed, even as a new round of sobs shook her.
The motor chugged on. Gabe's warm, solid body pressed against her side. She eased her eyes open and he slid one arm around her. As the boat leapt forward, the sharp sea breeze slapped her face. Shaking, she flung her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder, clinging to him.
"It's all right," he murmured. He stroked her back in a soothing caress. "When I was a little boy and I would wake up scared in the night, you know what my foster mom did?"
She gulped down her sobs and pulled away to gaze up at him.
"She used to give me kisses to hold in my hand. That way, I always had her love with me." He touched his soft lips to her forehead in a sweet, comforting kiss.
Her fear receded, replaced by a shocking awareness of the man holding her so protectively.
The boat leapt upward,
then
plunged sickeningly down. The bow crashed through a huge swell and icy spray stung her skin. She lurched sideways, an involuntary scream bursting out.
Gabe's arm tightened around her. "Whoa, it's okay."
She huddled in his encircling arms as he whispered words of comfort, until the boat finally slowed and he moored alongside a weathered wooden dock. He jumped to the pier and lifted her out beside him, but her trembling legs collapsed. Holding her, he sank to the dock and pulled her into his lap. "You're safe, sweetheart," he murmured, tugging the lifejacket off.
She let him hold her until the tight bands around her chest eased and the sick, shaky feeling faded. "Now, what was that all about?"
"I'm afraid of the water."
"No kidding." He brushed her damp hair away from her face, the clasp that had held her curls in order long gone. "Why?"
"
Wh
-
when I was six, my brother pulled me into the ocean and I went under. I almost drowned. The lifeguard rescued me.
Sh
-she had to perform AR and I spent the night in the hospital."
He cupped her face in his hands. "Your fear is a normal response to trauma. But," he hesitated, "I'm trying to help, not put you down, okay? You shouldn't have to feel that the fear overpowers and controls you. Being terrified is no way to live."
"I've tried to conquer it. Intellectually, I understand. But forcing my emotions to obey is another story."
"
This sounds simplistic, but concentrate
on something else. Stay focused, so you don't have time to panic."
Maybe he was onto something. For a few minutes in the launch, she
had
forgotten her terror. That had never happened before. But she'd been focused on him. Bewildered, she shook her head. "Is that what you do?"
He was silent for almost a full minute. "Yeah."
"You don't seem like you're afraid of anything. What scares you, Gabe?"
A dark shadow clouded his eyes for a second. Then the mischievous sparkle returned and he gave her a dazzling smile, deepening the cleft in his chin. "Martha Stewart's 'to do' list—now
that's
scary." He stood and helped her to her feet. "Nightfall will hit soon. C'mon."
She recognized a distraction when she saw one. "Where?"
"I always have a Plan B."
He supported her while they navigated the dock and toiled up a rocky path bordered by pines. But instead of his touch making her his captive, she felt protected. Her bewildered gaze scanned the thick
The setting sun stretched long gold fingers of warm light across the path by the time they finally reached a log cabin at the top of the bluff. Below, hungry white-capped waves hammered the shore. With a shudder, she jerked her gaze away. "Where are we?"
He unlocked the door. Instead of answering, he waved at a green-and-navy plaid sofa. "Have a seat. I'll start a fire."
Perfect. While he was busy, she'd summon help. She didn't give a rip
who
he was, or what he was mixed up in, she wanted out. "I'll make a pot of coffee."
"Sure. But don't go climbing out the window. The kitchen overlooks the bluff." He grinned. "There's canned soup in the cupboard and bread in the freezer. You didn't eat in the car. You should get some chow in your stomach."
Tessa strode into the cozy, spotless kitchen. Red-checked curtains framed the window, accenting the wooden walls and navy-tiled countertops. Her gaze darted around the room, looking for the phone.
Oh, no
. No phone. Her hopes
flatlined
. She squared her shoulders. Fine, she'd devise another plan.
She made the coffee and then opened a cupboard. The sight of Road Runner mugs inspired a reluctant smile. The cartoon cups fit Gabe's mischievous, faster-than-a-speeding-bullet personality to a T.
As she filled his mug, a daring idea hit. Her hand slid inside her pocket and gripped the bottle of anti-nausea pills. Two had knocked her out for several hours. If he ingested enough…
She stood there, the plastic lid cutting an imprint into her clenched palm. What if she accidentally killed him? Drugging him felt like a sneaky, dirty trick. He'd treated her very decently.
Get real, woman, the guy kidnapped you
. She quickly smashed six tablets and stirred them into his coffee.
In the living room, a cozy fire crackled in the hearth. She couldn't meet Gabe's eyes as she handed him the mug. Perching stiffly on a navy chair near the fire, she cradled her own warm drink.
With a contented sigh, he propped his stocking feet on the coffee table. Dressed in a fisherman's sweater and snug, faded jeans, he looked relaxed and comfortable. And not at all like a bank robber. As he took a sip, guilt pierced her heart and she steeled herself not to flinch. She felt like she'd given him a cup of hemlock. He grimaced. "I wonder how old this coffee
is?
"
Her gaze jerked sideways to the flickering flames. Would he realize what she'd done?
"You're still jumpy. You're not afraid I'll hurt you?"
"The ocean scares me. You don't." In spite of a lingering edge of doubt, some primal instinct deep inside insisted he wouldn't harm her. After his gallant response to her irrational terror on his boat, she was almost sure of it. Wanted to believe it. However, she had a life to get back to.
Gabe shook his head. "You did go pretty ballistic on me there for a while." He took several more swigs. "I'm sorry about having to detain you."
"You
don't
have to detain me. I don't have any interest in whatever skullduggery you're involved in."
"Skullduggery? Now there's a word." He chuckled before drinking again,
then
rested his head against the back of the sofa. "Unfortunately, you're already involved." He yawned. "I'm starting to fade. I'd better make us some sandwiches."
No! She had to keep him quiet in order for the medication to kick in. She jumped up. "I'll do it."
His dark brows lowered and he flashed
her a
puzzled look.
"I was going to fix myself something to eat anyway."
"Go ahead then. And thanks for being such a good sport." He flashed her one of his heart-stopping smiles. "You've held up damn well considering what I've put you through."
Feeling unaccountably like Benedict Arnold, she stalked to the kitchen.
The snap and crackle of the fire was the only sound in the cabin as she made a tuna sandwich and carried it to the small table near the window. Chewing slowly, she managed to draw out her meager meal. Twenty minutes later, she poked a cautious head through the doorway.
Gabe lay stretched out on the couch, the mug still clutched in one hand. His sooty lashes rested against his cheeks and his full lips were parted. He was motionless, not even appearing to breathe.
Had she given him too many pills? Her stomach flip-flopped. Pulse racing, she stared at his broad chest until she saw the rise and fall of his deep, rhythmic breaths. "Gabe?" she whispered.
He didn't move.
"Gabe?"
Still no response.
She tiptoed across the room, and then carefully turned the doorknob. The door swung open with a slight creak. She stepped across the threshold.
"Don't leave me!" Gabe
begged,
his voice husky with anguish.
Her heart rocketed into her throat. She whirled.
Still asleep, but restless, he flung out his arm and the empty mug fell to the rug. Heart pounding, she stood frozen until her muscles cramped, waiting for him to resettle into deep slumber. Finally, she crept outside.
"No!" he cried. "Please don't go!"
A choking lump lodged in her throat. Who was he pleading with in his dream world?
Her chest tight, she eased the door closed and crept out into the darkness—feeling oddly as if she had left something precious behind.
Chapter 3
E
nveloped in blackness, Tessa paused. The ocean roared on her left, loud in the quiet night. She turned in the opposite direction and broke into a run. Blindly, she stumbled through the woods, clawing aside rough branches and wet leaves. Finally her burning lungs grew unbearable and a stitch caught in her side. Gasping in the damp air, she clutched her aching ribs and slowed to a walk.
The night closed around her like a predator cornering his prey. An eerie screech rang out, echoed through the fog-shrouded forest. The hairs on her arms prickled. The bushes beside her rustled, and she swallowed a scream. Gabe's advice to focus on something else popped into her mind.
She hummed "Don't Be Cruel" as her thoughts spun. Gabe—what a puzzle. Even when she'd tossed her cookies in his car and whacked him with the door during her escape attempt, he'd kept his good humor. And when she'd been terrified in the boat, he'd comforted her with a story about his foster mom. And a tender, calming kiss.
Obviously, he'd been in the juvenile care system, not always the best environment. His foster mom sounded loving, though.
What had caused the flash of anguish in his eyes? And to whom was he crying out in his sleep? Her heart contracted at the memory of his desperate plea.
The irony of the situation struck her and a grim smile tightened her mouth. Not only had she taken the advice of a man she was running away from, thoughts of him provided the distraction that kept her panic at bay.
Suddenly, pain exploded in her forehead. Reeling backward, she plopped down in the damp grass. Brilliant stars crackled in front of her dazed eyes. She blinked, peering upward into the darkness. The twisted shape of a low-hanging branch loomed above her. She must have smacked into a tree limb.
Tessa gingerly explored the swelling knot on her forehead. It wasn't bleeding, but the throbbing sting made tears stream from her eyes. She clenched her teeth against a whimper. Throwing a pity party wouldn't accomplish a thing. The only way out was to keep going. She blinked again and then clambered to her feet. Shivers crawled up her spine, and she wrapped her arms around her middle. Warily peering into the gloom for any more of Mother Nature's ambushes, she doggedly put one foot in front of the other.