DEADLY LOVE

By

Ashley Ladd

© copyright September 2005, Ashley Ladd

Cover art by Kat Richards, © copyright September 2005

ISBN 1-58608-649-9

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Prologue

Dreading the inevitable, barely breathing, Melissa tiptoed through her fiancé’s mansion. She did her best not to make so much as a whispering footfall. Never knowing in what mood she would find her volatile betrothed, she girded herself and peeked around the corner.

Her heart stopped cold. Screams rose in her throat but she managed to choke them down.

His hand shaking, Nathan held a pistol to his father’s temple. His assistant stood at parade rest by his side as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. “You of all people should support me. You betrayed me. You betrayed the cause.” Nathan’s voice warbled on the brink of tears.

“Son.” George Alexander licked his lips and laughed nervously. His terrified glance slid from Nathan to the blasé henchman. “You’re my only son. I’m behind you and the Lions 110%.”

“Liar!” Nathan’s face purpled and insane rage thundered from his slate-gray eyes. “You betrayed us! You leaked information to the Feds. Fortunately for me, I own the Feds.”

The senior Alexander blanched and dropped his gaze. His ashen complexion blended into his silvery hairline. “Of course I didn’t. I would never.…”

“Stop lying, old man! I have proof. I’m tired of your lies. I won’t stand for them anymore. You are not going to ruin my chances of becoming president.” Nathan pulled the trigger without a flicker of remorse, and blood and brains exploded across the room.

Nauseated, Melissa clutched her throat and tried to hold back the rising bile. Ill, she stumbled back while trying to steady herself against the wall.

She was engaged to a monster! How could he kill? Particularly his own father?

No!

Haunted by the terrible image she’d never be able to erase, she spun on her heel and ran blindly. She bumped into a table and a lamp crashed to the floor.

Oh no!

Melissa’s heart revved and her knees almost collapsed beneath her.

“Who’s there?” Nathan’s suspicious voice called out. His heavy footsteps stomped after her.

Scared witless, she pulled herself together and fled. She’d left her car keys inside and didn’t go back to retrieve them or her purse. She ran until she was out of breath, ending up several long blocks from Nathan’s lair. If he caught her, if he suspected she was a witness to the heinous murder, her life was over. With the evidence of her presence left foolishly in his house, of course he would have to suspect her.

“I have to report him. He can’t be allowed to get away with this. Just who are these Lions?” she muttered under her breath. God, she wished she’d never heard of presidential hopeful Senator Nathan Alexander!

Frantically, she searched her pockets, hoping to find forgotten money, but they were barren. So she continued on foot and finally reached her father’s house two hours later.

Breathing a sigh of relief to be back at her home base, a surge of adrenaline pushed her the final few feet forward. Just as she was about to separate herself from the shadows of the building across the street, a limousine pulled up in front of her house and Nathan climbed out followed by two burly men holding firearms.

She gasped and flattened herself against the building. Her heart fluttered and she perked her ears.

Oh God! Her family! Her father and sister Christina could be home. She couldn’t abandon them.

Carefully she entered her neighbor’s house, that of a feisty little old lady named Beatriz who didn’t appreciate unexpected company. But Melissa saw no other choice. “Please. It’s an emergency. I need to use your phone.”

“Didn’t you pay Ma Bell?” The old crone’s lips twisted in derision as she peeked sarcastically at Melissa’s multi-million dollar mansion.

“It’s an emergency. I can’t explain now. Just stay low and don’t let anyone know I’m here.” True to her own words, Melissa knelt on the floor and peeked cursorily through the tinted windows blessing the woman’s need for privacy.

Her heart skipped a beat when she spied Nathan’s contingent making an armed perimeter around her yard. They suspected her all right. But how would they explain their strange behavior to her family? To the cops?

She dialed the police emergency line and chafed as the phone rang off the hook. “Answer already.”

Beatriz tugged at Melissa’s arm with her claw-like fingers and pointed at the gunmen. Her brow furrowed into one giant wormy-looking thing, and she asked, “You into drug running? I knew something was funny about you people.”

“Of course not! I’m engaged to a senator.…” Melissa pulled herself up short. Some law-abiding senator he’d turned out to be. And she’d marry Satan himself now before she’d marry him!

Her father ambled out to the end of the drive, smiled warmly, and shook Nathan’s hand. Then his gaze alighted on one of Nathan’s assistants and his smile dissipated. He pointed at the gun and tried to run, but another man stole up behind him and injected him with a syringe that made him go limp.

A horrified scream rose in Melissa’s throat and it was all she could do not to jump through the window to her father’s aid. But that would be suicide for all of them. Their only chance was for her to reveal Nathan to the authorities.

Finally an operator answered and took her information. To Melissa’s relief, she promised prompt assistance.

Melissa breathed a little easier but kept her vigil at the window, praying her father wasn’t dead.

“There are drugs!” Beatriz accused on a trembling, seething hiss. “Am I a prisoner?”

Melissa spread her arms wide and opened her fingers. “I’m not armed. But those men over there have guns. They’re very dangerous. Don’t draw attention to us. The police will be here any moment.”

Two police cars arrived just minutes later, faster than Melissa had ever hoped. Her heart leaping for joy, she came out of hiding and ran to meet them.

To her horror, one of the boys in blue pointed at her and yelled, “There she is. Get her!”

Oh my God! The cops were in on it. How big was this thing?

Panicking, her heart ready to explode out of her chest, Melissa turned on her heel and ran blindly. Looking over her shoulder to see how close her pursuers were, she crossed the street without thinking. Too late, she heard the squeal of brakes locking up and smelled rubber burning.

A young man slammed out of his car, swearing. “What do you think you’re doing, running in front of a car, lady? I almost killed you! What’s going on?”

The cops and Nathan were closing in on her. She’d never escape on foot and if Rapture didn’t happen in the next thirty seconds, she was doomed. Unless....

She changed direction and ran up to the man who’d almost run her over. Grabbing his wrist tightly, she implored, “Please help me. I witnessed a murder and those men are trying to kill me. If I don’t get out of here now, I’m dead.”

The bohemian-looking young man looked from her to her pursuers and back to her. He practically shoved her in the front seat of his car. “Get down. This should be one hell of a story.”

“Stop talking and drive!” She crouched under the dash as far as she could squeeze and blessed her erstwhile savior. “I’m not exaggerating. The monster killed his own father and those cops are on his payroll.”

The man whistled long and low under his breath. He stomped on the accelerator and plowed through the closing police cruisers, banging into one, sending it skidding dangerously out of control. “Hang on. This could get messy.”

Messier than it already was? Just her luck, her rescuing angel was as insane as the murderous fiend.

An excited gleam twinkled in his whiskey-colored eyes and he stretched his hand out to her and shook hers. “Hello. I’m Jesse Dalton. And who might you be, pretty damsel in distress?”

Chapter One

Almost four years after Melissa Vanderbilt-Smythe’s flight from her loving home, bounty hunter Cody Richards kept an eye on his quarry, the infamous runaway heiress as she cantered a magnificent black stallion down the Jersey shore. Her well-rounded bottom scooped back and forth in the saddle as if she made love to it. Her well-muscled thighs clamped the sweaty horseflesh as she rode like the wind, and her face was flushed as if she was in the throes of passion.

The breathtaking redhead and dark-as-night animal made a dynamite pair. Both regal, and yet contrarily both down and dirty, as vibrant a part of the dawning day as lightning strikes to a storm.

Even if it wasn’t his mission to watch this woman, he wouldn’t be able to tear his fascinated gaze from her. Never had he seen such a glorious pair of breasts.

And it had been about forever since he’d felt the unwelcome rush of warmth in his loins. It should stay away forever. Women were trouble, especially spoiled rich ones, and this fiery redhead led the pack. In particular, he had no business feeling anything more than professional interest in this woman. She represented his mission. Nothing more and nothing less. Besides, this particular dame had caused a passel of trouble from one coast to the next, selling more tabloids than that infamous newspaper heiress who’d been brainwashed in the 70’s.

Of course this one’s family was sure she’d been brainwashed as well. It was the only way they could make their world right, explain away their princess’s abdication from her velvet throne.

Spoiled or not, trouble or not, he couldn’t help but admire the way she rode, as if she’d been born in the saddle. Of course, she’d probably been riding the hunt before she could toddle around. The filthy rich ones always did.

Without warning, the giant beast neighed frantically, bucked, and reared almost ninety degrees perpendicular to the sand. The sassy redhead on its back flung her arms around the creature’s neck, wound her fingers through its mane, and pressed her knees deeper into its sleek flanks. Despite her valiant efforts, she started to slip--right under the deadly flailing hooves.

His heart hammering so hard his ribs were about to crack, Cody vaulted to her side, and snatched her out of harm’s way. He hadn’t been sent to rescue the kidnapped heiress just to witness the devil trample her.

The fair damsel blinked up at him, salty droplets clinging to her orange-fringed lashes. Gritty sand clung to her and now to him, but he didn’t care. Despite the sand, she felt warm and soft in all the right places and he stared at the lovely vision in his arms, as if an angel had fallen out of Heaven.

Angel?

From all reports demon was more apt.

But a very lovely demon even with her nostrils flaring.

Stop that! He was a professional. As far as he was concerned, she was a job, not a woman. Okay, she was a young woman in need of having her head straightened out so she could be returned home to the loving bosom of her family and fulfill a normal life instead of hanging out with a brainwashing hooligan.

When the horse flared its nostrils in rhythm to the woman’s, snorted and galloped off, kicking wet sand in their faces, she spluttered, “Just look what you did. You let Devil escape.” He looked down at the very grateful woman wriggling in his arms; fire flashing in the most amazing emerald eyes he’d ever seen. Her wild fiery hair cascaded over his arm, framing her not-so-angelic face. “You can put me down now.”

The princess’s tone was amazingly regal, even supercilious, for someone with a mouthful of wet sand. Too bad her manner didn’t match her appearance.

So be it. He’d dealt with the over privileged before. He’d be damned if they’d intimidate him.

As she wished. “I never disappoint a lady.” With secret glee, he dumped her unceremoniously on her derriere and turned a deaf ear on her outraged squeals. It took two to play this game and he wasn’t accustomed to losing. “It was either that or you’d be flat as a starfish, and not half so pretty,” he drawled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Hoof prints all over your face wouldn’t endear you to your boyfriend.” He hoped to evoke a response from her. Maybe she’d lead him to Jesse, the boyfriend she’d dumped her heartbroken ex-fiancé for--the supposed kidnapper Cody had also been commissioned to find.

Melissa’s family, but most especially her ex-fiancé, wanted to put Jesse Dalton behind bars. No one messed with the Senator without regret. This Dalton guy was going to wish he’d kept running to Mars to escape the Senator’s wrath. The way the Senator had torn up the planet looking for this woman, he doubted Mars would be far enough.

Struggling to her feet, the heiress bent, dusting the sand off her faded jeans with jerky, angry dashes. “I bet you’re a big hit with the ladies.”

“Don’t know.” Unable to stop the sparks from flying, his lips quirked into a half smile. “I’ve never tried that move before. I haven’t had the opportunity to save too many damsels in distress.” He slid a sly glance to her. “Did it work this time?”

Her lips twisted in a grimace, and then slowly curved into a wide smile that stole his breath. She eyed him up and down then let a sweet, tinkling laugh escape. “You sure don’t look like a white knight. Sir Lancelot never dropped Guinevere on her ass.” She laughed dryly, circling him. “Tell me, is that the new Indiana Jones line of fashion? Drab and dreary?”

So sue him. He hadn’t had a chance to buy a new Brooks Brothers wardrobe while trailing her. Like he’d do that while undercover anyway.

“Could be. You like?” He bowed deeply from his waist in an exaggerated gesture. “Sir Lancelot, a.k.a. Cody Richards, at your service, milady.” He straightened to his full height, looming above her just in time to catch her rolling her eyes heavenward before she pivoted on her boot heel. Weren’t fairy princesses supposed to wear glass slippers and ball gowns and smell like spring flowers instead of sweaty horseflesh?

Then again, Prince Charming and white knights weren’t supposed to look like swashbuckler rejects.

Melissa Vanderbilt-Smythe trudged down the beach, her boots leaving imprints in the sand. Sticking her fingers in her mouth, she whistled long and loud.

The horse turned in a smooth U-turn and trotted back to her, stopping a foot in front of her and thrashing its tail. Wicked challenge danced in its eyes when he eyed Cody. Then the monster snorted and flailed his hooves.

“Shush. It’s okay, big guy. Nothing’s going to hurt you.” She cast a veiled glance at him as if to say ‘back off.’ Then she held her hand out and stood still, waiting for the huge animal to approach.

“Nice trick.” Cody whistled under his breath. “You know your way around a horse.” Born and raised in the big city, he hadn’t spent much time around the creatures and held a healthy respect for them--especially ones whose nostrils flared and whose black beady eyes glared at him like he was breakfast.

Melissa smiled but didn’t say a word. When the horse nudged her shoulder with its wet nose, she clamped her hand on the bridle and stroked him with her other hand.

When she crooned to the gelding, Cody thought he heard angels singing. She owned one of those deep, melodious voices like Garbo, a voice he could get lost in. He shook his head. He’d never had a fantasy about a client or a case before. Now wasn’t the time to start. This was a smart young lady and a slippery one at that and he had to keep his wits about him if he wanted to complete his mission and return her to her loved ones.

“How about I escort you home? It’s not safe for a young woman to be out here alone at this hour.” Not that he was sure the Jersey shore and a deserted carnival were ever safe for anyone. But his prime motivation was to get a better look at her house to see if there were signs of her infamous boyfriend.

As she swung herself up onto the horse, she glowered down at him. “Thanks for saving me, but I don’t make it a habit to trust strange men, Cody Richards.” With that parting remark, she swung her horse around, clucked loudly and dug her heels into his flanks.

Without another word, horse and rider rode into the wind, kicking sand and water in his face. And she called him strange?

He cupped his hands around his mouth and lifted his voice over the booming surf. “Won’t Guinevere tell me her real name?”

The heiress glanced disdainfully over her shoulder and laughed at him. “Guinevere will do.”

* * * *

Melissa returned Devil to his stable and brushed him down. With strong, smooth strokes, she whisked the sweat from his black gleaming coat, restoring him to his majestic beauty as she cooled him off.

Devil pranced and snorted, sniffing the air full of hot buttery popcorn and sugary sweet cotton candy that mingled with whiffs of the briny ocean. Seagulls swooped overhead as the surf curled lazily onto shore signaling high tide’s advent. All Melissa’s carnival friends were tucked into bed and would be until well past noon. The carnival never closed until the wee hours of dawn. She had the runway to herself except for a few birds and other less savory scavengers.

Unfortunately, this big sprawling place devoid of humanity spooked her more than Devil’s earlier outburst had.

“Thanks for the ride, boy,” she crooned next to Devil’s ear. Delving in her jeans pocket, she extracted a handful of sugar cubes, slightly sticky from being in her pocket so long, and stuck her flat palm under his long nose. His scratchy tongue and the whiskers on his nose tickled the soft flesh of her hand when he licked them up. Then he nuzzled her shoulder, unconditional love twinkling in his coal black eyes.

When she hugged him, his warmth seeped into her. Except for Devil, Melissa hadn’t felt another body warming her since her Jesse had died … not until the stranger who had saved her just that morning held her in his arms, hard against his chest. Not that he’d had any choice. She’d almost crushed him when she’d fallen on top of him.

Jesse....

She only allowed her mind to linger on Jesse, or the puzzling stranger, a moment before she dusted away her memories and pitched fresh hay into Devil’s stall. Dwelling on men only brought trouble. Good or bad, they had no current or future part in her life. She’d had her one true love and now he was dead--because of her. She couldn’t be responsible for another death, especially not of someone she loved.

Loved? The only man she had ever, would ever love, was her Jesse. He was a lost breed. No one could take his place.

The horse ate greedily as if it were to be his last meal while she watched in silence, her foot hitched on the railing. Sad, loath to leave her home for the past several months, she leaned her head on her folded arms that rested atop his stall and watched him, perhaps for the last time. She’d known for awhile she was living on borrowed time, that she should have moved on long ago, but this place felt like home. The people were like family. “I’m going to miss you like hell, boy. You and Mia and Mario.” And all of the others. She drank her fill of her horse, etching his magnificent visage into her memory, a memory that was overflowing with visions. “Maybe I’ll be back one day.”

Doubtful.

She couldn’t promise. She never could. Who knew what the future held? She couldn’t even plan the next hour, much less the next year or the rest of her life. As long as she sensed Nathan’s presence in the shadows, her life was on hold. And her senses were going into red alert. He was near again.

Oppressive loneliness closed in on her. Suddenly claustrophobic, she had to pull fresh air into her lungs before she hyperventilated. The moldy stable air wove around her, squeezing the breath from her body. These premonitions were about to be the death of her.

“Later. Okay, boy?” Jumpy, her nerves on end, she skipped into the deserted carnival grounds, gulping the salty air into her lungs. Morning wind whipped her hair into her face and she stuffed it into the back of her blouse to keep it from getting into her mouth.

She pulled huge, raspy breaths into her lungs and craned her neck so that her nose pointed to the clouds. They drifted together, then apart, like the loved ones in her life. They only stayed a little while before they were wrenched from her. And now, even Devil would be a sweet memory to be tucked away in her journal. He deserved an extra special entry. She vowed to make it before she retired that night.

God, but she was so extremely tired of running, of looking over her shoulder for shadows and glimpses of ghosts. Would Nathan never give up? Would he ever leave her alone? Chance meetings with strangers such as this morning never failed to renew her edginess. Was it just a coincidence that the man had crossed Devil’s path at the wrong moment?

She tried to suppress the shivers that were never distant. She didn’t believe much in coincidences anymore. Few things had been coincidental in her life. Except perhaps, for meeting Jesse.

But that eerie feeling that prying eyes bore into her back returned to plague her. If she were psychic, she’d bet a trap lay nearby with her name engraved on it. However, she was just paranoid, like her father’s crazy neighbor, Beatriz. Given her history, she had reason to be paranoid. If she wasn’t careful, she’d walk straight into a noose.

That stranger, savior or not, gave her bad feelings. Of course every nameless man left her with a sour taste. Trust didn’t come easily. She woke up in cold sweats more often than not.

Nervously, Melissa glanced over her shoulder into flitting shadows. Although she chose to hide in darkness the majority of her life, right now she shied away from the absence of light for it could also hide many evils. Cody Richards was only one of many scary possibilities. She couldn’t shake the ominous feelings that Richards could very well be one of Nathan’s vile henchmen and increased her pace until she fled for the little hovel she’d been calling home.

Compared to the fairytale castle in which she’d grown up, the place was practically a hovel. But she didn’t care. As long as it had a soft, clean mattress to rest her weary back, a solid roof to keep the rain off her head, a place to keep Jesse’s picture dry, and she could afford the rent on her modest wages, she was satisfied. If her real family ever saw this place, they would be mortified, condemning it as Third World squalor. Of course if they knew she’d become a top-notch card shark, a regular shill, they’d faint.

Too wound up to catch her zzzz’s, she wandered to her poker tent, intent on preparing her card games for the evening’s activities. Then once she did get some shut-eye, she’d be set up if she slept late into the afternoon.

After she set out new card decks and counted her poker chips, she still felt wide awake. Too claustrophobic to hang out indoors, she strolled down the runway, lifting her heavy hair off her neck, loving the cooling wind on her heated flesh. How she loved the carnival, the beach, and the freedom of this life. If only she was truly free....

Jesse would have loved this place. It was free and wild like he’d been.

A free spirit, Jesse had let the wind guide him, yet he’d been the most honorable, responsible man she’d ever met. Not to mention the sexiest.

Born without a cent to his name and not much caring for the shackles of great riches, he’d cherished and adored her far more than Nathan ever had, ever could. Without money, he’d given her a wonderful, exciting life filled with love and laughter. They’d made love on the beach, swam under the midnight stars, and helped others in need whenever they were down. Surely he was an angel fallen from heaven sent to help her, to show her what life should be and could be like.

She wandered upon Mario’s dart booth and shook her head with an indulgent smile. “Mario, you bad boy. You forgot to close up shop. You must’ve had some night, imbibing on your favorite cherry wine.” On sudden inspiration, she hopped over the front of the stand, scooped up several darts and tossed them, popping several balloons. She smiled to herself.

“Not bad.” Giddy as a child, thrilled at her victory, she jumped up and down and clapped gleefully. She never failed to thrill when a child burst the balloons and won a prize. They adored the cheap stuffed animals more than she’d ever loved her too-expensive childhood trinkets. The kids that frequented her carnival were far more appreciative than the spoiled crowd of her youth. This was real life. The good life.

At least it would be the good life if not for Nathan’s eternal threat.

“Damn you, Nathan! Damn you, damn you, damn you!” Sudden hot hatred boiled over. Hatred and fear and regrets.

Her paranoia bubbled up fresh as it always did at the thought of Nathan.

The louse had been on her mind a lot again lately, which reminded her she really should be cutting ties and moving on. Soon.

Except she was so tired of leaving friends behind, of keeping one eye trained over her shoulder that she had a constant neck ache. It wasn’t fair. She deserved a good life. She deserved family and friends.

But check over her shoulder often she must so she checked behind her again. She could never be too careful. This morning had been yet another reminder.

She came up short with a bang against a rock-hard wall of chest. Vice-like arms clamped around her as a sinister chuckle rang in her ears. Malodorous smells nauseated her--body sweat, stale liquor, sour clothing.... The visage of her earlier rescuer came to mind, but the smells didn’t match. Sir Lancelot had smelled like autumn woods and rich tobacco, not an outhouse.

She looked her attacker in the eyes and screams rose in her throat. She quaked with fear, bit, kicked, and clawed like a wildcat. She wished she hadn’t thrown all the darts, that she had one left to stick him with.

But the aggressor didn’t slacken his suffocating hold.

Recoiling from the walking nightmare, she could barely rein in her mindless terror. Oh God, Nathan had found her. Was this man an assassin? Or did this monster have more sinister thoughts in mind?

More sinister than taking her back to the horrid Nathan? Or assassinating her on the spot?

“What’s the hurry, sister? Got a hot date?” A raspy voice whispered in her ear. “Hows ‘bout with me?” The creep issued a deep belly laugh then spit a wad of chewing tobacco several feet into the air that fell and splattered the pavement like dried blood.

The rank smell almost doubled her over … or would have, if her captor weren’t holding her so tightly she could barely inhale.

Squirming, she started to scream but a meaty hand clamped over her mouth. “It’ll be a lot less painful if you stop fighting, Missy. We can do this easy or we can do this hard.”

She failed to see an easy way.

His face lowered to within an inch of hers and she fought down the hysteria rising bile-like in her chest. God, this bald Cro-Magnon knew who she was? How she wished her intuition had been wrong. Being right proved sheer hell.

“What’s it going to be? I can’t be taking you back with no bruises or fingerprints on that porcelain complexion of yours. The Reverend won’t like that.” Scars crisscrossed his pockmarked face. Acne had not been kind to this soul in his youth. Nor had the sun judging by deep crevices around his mouth.

She’d remember a creature like this, even if she’d only seen him in her dreams.

But it was the tattoo on the back of his hand that made her tremble in abject fear. The same symbol that hung on Nathan’s wall. The same one that sent him into a fury when she’d inquired as to its meaning. She’d never seen that symbol anywhere except in conjunction to Nathan. She’d come up with nothing when she’d conducted an Internet search.

Her brow furrowed and she extrapolated the man’s insinuation. “The Reverend?”

“Your beloved. Senator Alexander,” the man confirmed with a sickening admiration.

Nathan called himself a ‘reverend’ now? Too bizarre....

“He’s not my beloved anything.” To accentuate her statement, she spit at the man’s feet.

“You’ll pay for that.” The fiend lifted a damp handkerchief to her face that smelled suspiciously of sodium pentothal. “He wouldn’t like to hear that.”

Her eyes widened as far as they could and she compelled him to an act of humanity with her gaze. She mumbled thickly into his sweaty palm, “Forget you ever saw me and I’ll pay you double what he offered.”

With what she didn’t know, but it sounded plausible. She had a small nest egg tucked away under her new name, but quite laughable compared to her former bank accounts.

The big man paused, an indescribable emotion clouding his eyes. His thin lips twisted into a grotesque smile and his vile gaze raked over her again. “You don’t look like no rich fairy princess no more and I have it on good authority, Daddy Dearest closed your line of credit. Just how much you offering?”

The brute’s greed sickened her. Slimy fortune hunters were the lowest scum of the earth. Lifting her chin a notch, she gave him stare for stare, refusing to blink or look away. Summoning her regal bearing and impeccable training, she treated him to her most commanding demeanor. “Unhand me, or I rescind my offer.”

His repulsive stare lingered much too long on her heaving breasts. “How much?” His voice was a growl.

“I told you, I’d double what he offered. I have a Swiss bank account. Daddy doesn’t control all my funds.” Bluffing, she adopted an unconcerned, bored look, as her heart raced so fast she thought her chest would explode.

Licking his lips, he relaxed his grip. “Sister, you and I are inseparable until I get my dough.”

Rubbing her arms where the ogre’s fingerprints bruised her flesh, Melissa bit back a grimace. She couldn’t wait to shower away his stench. Then she’d have to sneak away before Mario and the others awoke, and assume a new identity … again. She wouldn’t have time to leave so much as a note of gratitude or even tell them not to worry.

Of course there was loads of cause to worry....

“Lead the way.” He grasped her upper arm, and parted his leather jacket until she spied the glint of deadly steel.

She pressed her lips together, her mind working furiously on escape plans. She slid a sideways glance at him. He had a thick Cro-Magnon like skull and speech patterns to match. He had no cheekbones to speak of, and a blunt, square chin. He was all brawn and no brains. A gold chain glinted around his neck and again she thought it incongruous that a large cross dangled from it. He didn’t act like a religious man.

Stay cool. She’d save her screams for the bank. Hopefully the henchman wouldn’t have second thoughts.

Watch over me, Jess. I need you more than ever.

A motorcycle roared from out of nowhere and the big man spun her around.

Sir Lancelot raced in on his Harley. He kicked the man’s arm away from her, and then shoved her attacker’s barrel chest with a well-aimed foot.

When the man stumbled, a startled expression screwing up his features, she sprinted away.

The man on the cycle whirled about, cut her off, and thrust out his hand to her. “Get on!”

Hesitating, she stared at the strong hand before her in invitation, wondering if it represented salvation … or another trap? Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her would-be captor.

The monster struggled to his feet, his black hate-filled gaze smoldering on her. His hands out in front of him in prime choking position, he advanced again.

She gazed from the known evil to the unknown quantity and made a split second decision. Taking the cyclist’s hand, she jumped onto the back of the Harley and slipped her arms around his waist.

Jesse, this had better be a sign. This blind trust business sucked almost as much as being widowed.

The man lunged at them, a multitude of curse words tumbling from his lips that would even make the carnies blush.

More frightened than she’d been in a very long time, she sucked in a deep, hissing breath. She hadn’t thought she could hate Nathan any more, but intense, almost suffocating hatred swelled in her heart.

The cycle wheeled and spun out a split second before her assailant grabbed for them and fell flat on his face.

Gulping in air, she held onto Sir Lancelot with the last vestige of her strength. Her fingers dug into her rescuer’s hard stomach, as they left her kidnapper in the dust.

But she didn’t trust the gallant Lancelot much more than that fiend they fled. For all she knew the pair played good cop, bad cop.

After they’d put a safe distance between themselves and Nathan’s lackey, she pounded the white knight’s back and yelled into his ear, hoping the wind wouldn’t whip away her words, “Let me off here.”

No response.

She repeated her demand several decibels louder.

When the man ignored her, her heart twisted in her chest. Damn! She was trapped in the never-ending nightmare. Frantic, she pummeled his back. “Let me off now!”

Fear swelled in her chest again. Then she felt herself slipping and she grasped the cyclist’s midsection with the force of a steel clamp and girded her legs around the cycle. She clenched her teeth and forced herself to think rationally.

His gas wouldn’t last forever. He’d have to stop eventually, and then she’d escape.

To her immense relief, the cycle slowed far sooner than a tank of gas took to run out, and then spurted to a stop in the sand. Her savior twisted in his seat, tossing a lazy smile at her. “I warned you not to haunt deserted places by yourself.”

Bristling at his tone, her ire rose. Swinging her leg off the cycle, she dismounted. Sand shifted beneath her feet, causing her to stumble.

Although he didn’t laugh outright, the corner of his mouth tilted up and his eyes twinkled. Nor did he make a move to steady her.

She wrinkled her nose. Some Sir Lancelot he was turning out to be.

Feeling foolish beneath his mocking gaze, she glared at him as she dusted sand off her jeans. It clung to her hands, the grit insinuating itself into the creases of her palms and ingratiating itself under her fingernails.

“Well?” His eyebrows tented and his gaze practically danced.

“Well, what?” she ground out through clenched teeth. She plodded through the sticky sand, sucking at her feet, making her way difficult. How she longed to wipe that smirk off his handsome face! She hadn’t met such an infuriating man since....

Oh no, she wasn’t going there. No way.

“Aren’t you going to thank me?”

Thank him?

Flabbergasted at the man’s gall, she turned, hands on her hips, taking his measure. She permitted her gaze to roam his length, taking in his strong legs, his muscular chest that felt as solid as Mt. Rushmore, and then his handsome, but mocking face. She met his amused gaze with haughty disdain. “Do you want money for your efforts?”

A mask shuttered his expression. “White knights don’t save damsels in distress for cash.”

Maybe she’d been wrong. He looked downright insulted. She was having a hard time getting a handle on this one.

“What do they accept in payment?” She almost kicked herself for playing along with this insanity, for asking such a leading question.

“I can think of a few things.” His gaze was riveted on her mouth.

Uh uh. No way.

Falling back a pace, she shuttered her expression and held out her hand. “You’ll have to settle for a handshake.”

He laughed outright, but without a trace of mirth. “I guess you want me to strand you on this deserted beach so another creep can attack you?”

She glanced warily over her shoulder. “He’s way back there.” She hoped.

“Not if he has transportation.” He snorted. “He looked pretty desperate.”

Desperate and deranged.

Her resolve wavered and she peered down the road, her gaze so intense the horizon shimmered. Dust boiled in the distance. Someone was coming. Of course, it could be anyone, but what if it was the slime? Gambling might be her profession but could she stake her life on it? Either way she played Russian Roulette.

When her rescuer held out his hand again she chose the lesser of the apparent evils and accepted it. Strong and warm, his fingers closed around hers. Shivers threaded through her spine. “Let’s get out of here.”

Her arms crept around him again and he sped off, the cycle’s velocity pressing them together. She laid her cheek against his back to keep the wind off her face and felt his heartbeat, strong and steady. His scent, slightly musky, mingled with the sea, touching off more memories. Like Jesse....

Stop it!

Mentally, she shook herself. He wasn’t Jesse. He wasn’t in the least like Jesse.

Finally, when they reached the next small town down the coast, he pulled into a diner parking lot and killed the ignition. Mid-morning bustle kept her from panicking. Too many witnesses mulled about for him to try anything stupid.

She stayed glued to him for several moments, the droning engine still ringing in her ears, loath to separate herself from his warmth, loath to question her motives for feeling so. He reminded her of Jesse that was all. He was the first man she’d come into contact with since her husband’s death. It meant nothing.

Really.

Sir Lancelot cleared his throat and twisted in his seat, forcing her to lift her head and unwind her arms from his waist. “I’ve saved you twice and don’t even know your name, Guinevere.” He grasped her hand and kissed it, his lips warm and firm.

Her disloyal flesh tingled for the first time in two years and she snatched her hand back as if burned, staring at the traitor.

Sir Lancelot dismounted, then circled her waist with his hands and lifted her off the cycle, swinging her to the ground beside him. He took her elbow, propelling her toward the diner.

She gazed up at him and realized she had to crane her neck to look him in his eyes. Not a short woman, she rarely had to do that. She dug her heels into the gravel driveway, refusing to budge another millimeter. “Where do you think you’re taking me?” She’d stopped being led a long time ago. She wasn’t about to start up again easily, and not without fully trusting the person she was following.

“I’m starved. Thought you might like to grab a bite, too.”

“I’m not hungry.” Food was the last thing on her mind after that nasty little scene. Her stomach still felt queasy, as if someone had lit a few bottle rockets inside it.

“The least you could do is share a cup of coffee with me. After all....”

“You saved my life.” She chuckled despite herself. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”

The man’s expression sobered. He clasped her elbow between his fingers and this time, she let him guide her into the diner. He chose a booth in the corner and stretched his length across the entire seat. When a heavily made-up waitress sashayed up to the table with eyes only for him, he winked at her. Any moment the woman would swoon.

Irritated, she moved the condiments lest the young woman collapse on their table. Then she scooted further back on her bench to get out of the way.

“What do you want?” Cody flashed a lazy smile at their server. It was about the sexiest, sultriest smile she’d ever seen. If she were a weaker woman, like the waitress, she’d probably melt at his considerable charms. But she wasn’t one to crumble easily.

“Just coffee. Black.” She handed the menu to the waitress who barely tossed her a glance. She didn’t much like being ignored although common sense dictated invisibility her best ally. Always before, she’d been the center of attention, even at the carnival. With or without her family’s money backing her, her presence lit a room. Her fiery red hair attracted male attention wherever she went.

Maybe it was time to dye her hair so she would truly be more invisible.

Most women seemed to be intimidated by her rare beauty. Not that she minded. She didn’t need to cultivate women friends. She’d always had more than enough men around to make up for lack of female companionship. Her younger sister, Christina, provided all the female friendship she needed. Lately, Mia had filled that void.

Thoughts of her sibling tugged at her heart as they did every time she let down her guard. Quickly, she pushed the unwelcome thoughts from her mind. Christina was from another life. Much as Melissa loved her, Christina was part of the past and didn’t belong in her future. At least not until Nathan was out of the picture, and she’d not been able to find anyone in authority that she could trust enough yet to expose him. It was best to forget both Christina and her father. They were all wrapped up with Nathan.

Christina had been spellbound over Nathan since he’d first followed Melissa home from her first political campaign volunteering stint. If Nathan’s flirtations had been the least bit genuine toward her younger sister, she was certain Christina would have done her best to steal him. A few times, Melissa had accused Christina of flirting with her fiancé.

No denying Nathan had been a charming one. When he wanted to be....

If anything, their father had been even more enamored, infatuated with Nathan’s political aspirations. He’d often referred to himself as ‘the father-in-law of the future president of the United States.’ He’d pushed them together, nagging Melissa to accept Nathan’s proposal when she’d hesitated. Even then, she’d entertained doubts that Nathan was the right man for her. Unlike her family, charm and power had never fascinated her. Being the first lady had loomed a huge burden.

Unlike Christina, she didn’t swoon just because a man kissed her hand and flattered her. She looked for the hook, even back then.

Now charming, sleazy men made her ill and she snorted at the memories.

Her rescuer ordered half the menu, nothing with less than a few thousand carbohydrates, a real cholesterol nightmare. She wondered how he stayed so slim and fit if this represented his typical diet? When his omelet came, he delved into the creamy concoction. Butter dripped from every forkful. Cheese oozed out the edges.

She regarded her companion closely, deciding he had too many rough edges to charm anyone in the conventional sense. He obviously hadn’t attended finishing school the way he shoveled the food into his mouth and obviously appreciated the common fare. That wasn’t an entirely bad thing. Like Jesse....

Nix that. He wasn’t Jesse. He wasn’t like Jesse.

He fixed her with his steady gaze again. “You’ve still not told me your name.”

The truth was, she still hadn’t decided on her new alias or that he was fit to be told that much. She didn’t want anything that would attract attention, which meant not too fancy, nor too mundane. No Smith or Jones. And she rather liked the sound of Guinevere …

Her mind went blank. Who did she want to be this time? Wholesome, like Molly? Or fancy, like Vanessa?

“I told you mine, so it’s only fair if you tell me yours.” He stopped chewing and stared at her mouth as if willing her to speak.

Laughter almost gushed from her.

Fair? Since when was this world fair?

Studying him through her lashes, she sipped her coffee slowly. Was he too interested? Or was she too paranoid? It was a normal question and she of course was totally paranoid.

“Lisa....” Jesse had called her Lissa. She couldn’t use such a natural extension of her real name, but Lisa sounded enough different that it shouldn’t raise suspicion. And it was middle of the road pretty so as not to draw undue awareness, either. She glanced out the window, struggling for a last name to go with her new moniker. Woods filled with brightly colored wild flowers and green leaves surrounded the sleepy little town.

“Woods. Lisa Woods.” She stirred her coffee, avoiding his probing gaze. “I really must return home.” She tossed a couple of crumpled, faded dollar bills on the table and scooted out of the booth. “Thanks for the white knight routine. I owe you two now, Cody Richards.”

He stood in a flash, blocking her way, his shadow falling over her. “Don’t you want to file a police report on that guy?”

Panic palpitated in her chest. Nathan’s police?

“No!”

God, that sounded desperate. She was definitely paranoid.

“No? Do you care to explain why not?”

“No.” Goaded, irritated, she glared at the overly nosy white knight. She leaned forward, resting her head on her linked hands. “Look, I appreciate your help but just because you saved my neck doesn’t mean I suddenly owe you any explanations. I don’t know you. Let’s keep it that way.”

“How do you plan to get home?”

Would he never quit? She needed a way to get rid of him for good. “I’ll call my husband to pick me up.” Mention of her husband usually did the trick to rid her of unwanted male attention.

Shock flickered across his face. His gaze sought her empty ring finger. “You’re married?”

“According to my husband and the great state of New Jersey.” She crossed her fingers behind her, hoping lightning wouldn’t strike her dead on the spot. She crossed her toes and she’d offer penance later. She also cursed herself for not wearing Jesse’s ring which would help her in such instances.

She was Jesse’s widow. She used to have a husband so she just hadn’t updated the truth even if she had locked away the ring in an effort to get on with her life. That wasn’t exactly a lie, was it? Vaguely she wondered why he looked so shocked. Millions of women were married. Why not her? Had she suddenly sprouted three heads?

The waitress dropped the bill and smiled saucily. “Who wants the bad news?”

Like omelets and hash browns would break anyone’s bank? Melissa remembered dishing out two-hundred dollars for more cosmopolitan fare many breakfasts ago and had to bite back a sarcastic retort. Instead, she inclined her head at her dining companion.

Sir Lancelot stuck his hands down into his pocket and frowned. Then he rummaged through his other pockets. He chuckled uneasily and held out a palm full of silver and copper. “Geese. My wallet must’ve dropped out in all that ruckus back there. This is all I’ve got. I’ll have to go back and hope some Good Samaritan turned it in.”

The waitress turned to Melissa with a hopeful gaze. “Dates aren’t what they used to be. I know. I go Dutch more than I care to admit.”

Melissa grimaced, recalling that she’d left her purse at home. She groped around in her own pockets and pulled out a couple of tens. “This is all I have.”

The bold woman plucked one ten out of her hands and scooped up the check. “This’ll do. Thanks. I’ll be back with the change.”

Melissa shook her head and scowled at her dining companion. The real Sir Lancelot wouldn’t have stuck Guinevere with the check. “Why am I not surprised?”

Cody leaned closer and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Surely you remember our little altercation back there. I was more concerned with saving your pretty little neck than making sure I didn’t drop anything out of my pockets.”

“See, we have to go back. We can’t get far on ten bucks.” She shuffled out of the booth and ambled to his motorcycle. Even with a motorcycle, gas alone nowadays would eat up the cash in no time.

He picked her up and hauled her to his cycle, depositing her on the seat. “Money or not, I don’t like the idea of going back and chancing running into your new friend. He definitely won’t remember me very fondly.”

So be it. She wanted to ditch him anyway so it fell in with her plans. She pointed herself at the pay phone inside. She’d call Mario and ask him to bring her purse. “I’ll just call my husband to come get me from here. Thanks again for the rescue.” She wiggled her fingers in the air. “Ta ta.”

Disbelief warred on the man’s face. “I’m not leaving you alone until I know you’ll be safe with the Mister. Gentleman that I am, I couldn’t live with myself if I read your obit in the paper tomorrow morning. Give me his phone number and I’ll call.”

Caught in her web of deception, she chewed her bottom lip, seeking another lie. Her Jesse had trusted her implicitly, secure in the knowledge she loved him with all her heart. “He-he’s the jealous type. He wouldn’t take kindly to me being alone with you.”

“All the more reason for me to turn you over to him.”

She thrust out her jaw. “I can call my own husband.”

“Why don’t I believe you? I don’t think there is a mister.”

Why didn’t he? She found herself speechless. “You’re calling me a liar?”

He climbed on board and pulled on his helmet. He snapped it with jerky, angry movements. “Either give me his phone number right now or get on.”

“Our-our phone’s disconnected.”

“Uh huh.” He patted the seat and sent a challenging her smile her way. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

Deathly afraid.... But she was damned if she’d show it. “You sure know how to sweet talk a lady, don’t you?” she said, her words so dry she thought her tongue would turn to dust.

“I don’t sweet talk married women. If you’re married.” He revved the engine and gunned the cycle, his knuckles white as he grasped the handles tightly.

The iron monster took off so fast, she almost slid off the rear. Clutching at him, she cursed the renewed fear bubbling up in her throat. What was happening to the tough woman she’d become in the last four years?