Читать книгу Closer... - Jo Leigh - Страница 8

HE WAITED AS THE PICTUREemerged from the printer, and leaned back in his leather chair, his attention divided between the monitor and the photo. They were leaving the house, which gave him a window of opportunity. The problem was what to do with it?

The photo came out, a very clear picture of the man she called Boone. An ex-lover? He didn’t think so. He’d never come across the name, not in any of his research. So who was he, and how come he knew how to look for the cameras?

There was a simple way to find out. He took the picture and put it facedown on the fax. He hit speed dial One, and there it went, off to his friends who would find out everything there was to know about Big Boy Boone.

It didn’t matter. His plan was still in motion, on course. Soon, she’d be ready for him. Soon, she’d see that there were no other options. That there was no place to run, no way to hide. Boone, whoever he was, could be used to that end. He smiled, thinking of the possibilities.

“BOONE, WOULD YOU JUST STOP?” Christie planted her feet in the breakfast food aisle. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”

He turned his head as he continued walking. “Then you’d better catch up.”

She thought about walking out of the store. But she didn’t even have enough cash to get home. He’d taken her a long way from Culver City to a humongous Costco, where he’d gotten a huge cart, and without even asking her, had started filling the damn thing. Her anger mounted as she followed him. “It’s my damn house,” she said, “and I don’t like that kind of paper towel.”

Boone looked at her with infuriatingly calm eyes. “Look, let’s just get this over with. We have a lot to do today, and shopping isn’t the priority.”

“Then let me shop.”

He turned back to the granola. “It’s fuel, Christie. It’s paper. It’s soap.”

“It’s my house.”

He looked at his watch. “Twenty minutes, we’re out of here.”

“Fine.” She walked past him as he dumped a box of Grape Nuts in the cart. She got her Lucky Charms and dared him to say one word. He didn’t. But he didn’t stop. He just kept putting things into the cart, without asking. Well, two could play that game.

She got a giant-sized box of Twinkies and put them in the cart.

Boone snorted, but he didn’t say anything.

He turned to the next aisle, and she followed, getting more pissed by the minute. He didn’t even glance at her when she put in the giant tub of the highest-fat ice cream in the place.

By the time they got to the checkout, the cart was filled to capacity. Christie couldn’t believe the amount of vegetables and fruits. Did he ask her if she liked eggplant? No. And what the hell was with all the Brussels sprouts? She wasn’t eating them, not if he begged her.

“Are you done?”

“Does it matter?”

“Christie, we have—”

“I know. Things to do. It’s only food. It’s only paper.”

Boone left the cart in the checkout line and came right up to her, right into her space. “What are you doing?”

She put her hand on the pastry counter. “I’m going to get a cheesecake.”

“A cheesecake.”

“That’s right.”

He closed his eyes, and she watched the muscles in his jaw flex. When he looked at her again, his green eyes looked cold as ice. “Is that really necessary.”

“Yes. Cheesecake is always necessary.”

“Goddammit, do you want this asshole to kill you? Is that it?”

She stepped back, the bluntness of his words more shocking than the bitter tone.

“Miss, you okay?”

Christie blinked at the store clerk, a skinny blonde with a problem complexion. She wanted to warn him away, but Boone turned on him first.

Not a word was spoken. She couldn’t see Boone, but she didn’t need to. The terrified expression on the clerk’s face said it all. He backed up into a table of minidonuts and muffins, made a choking sound, then hightailed it off to produce.

When Boone turned back, he seemed calm again. Everything except his eyes.

“All right,” she said, “I’ll forget about the cheesecake. But I’m not giving up my Lucky Charms.”

Boone nodded once. Then he turned, and they were out of there ten minutes later.

IT TOOK THEM HALF AN HOUR to put the food away. Christie still couldn’t believe how much he’d bought. She’d insisted that he give her the receipt, which was more than two hundred bucks. Despite the fact that he’d gotten all kinds of crap she’d never eat, like protein powder and bean sprouts and whole wheat bagels, she’d repay every last cent.

Being angry at someone other than the bastard was a novelty. Being away from the house and actually feeling at ease had been a revelation. Contradictory, yes, but it was completely true. She felt better than she had in so, so long, even though she couldn’t shake the creeps that had hit since he’d shown her that first electronic bug.

She’d been naked. She’d gotten herself off. She’d wept, she’d ranted, she’d slept. With him watching her.

“You ready?”

Boone’s voice scared her, and she jumped. “Almost.”

“I’ll be in the kitchen.”

She turned to watch him walk down the hall. He had those long legs and damn, that ass of his. But still. He wasn’t exactly Barbie’s dream date. His arrogance had surprised her. Nate was like that sometimes. So sure of himself and infuriatingly cocky. Maybe it was the military that did it. Or maybe the job just attracted that kind of man.

Her fingers went up to her lips as she remembered, for the billionth time, how he’d kissed her. It was a ploy, she knew that. All for show. But it hadn’t felt fake.

She still wasn’t sure why she’d kissed him back like that. The easy answer was that she needed the contact. It was true, too. It had been ages since she’d touched someone else. Someone who wasn’t Milo. Fear for her friends had kept her away from her usual haunts, and fear for herself had kept her wary of every man in the city. It had never occurred to her, before this horrific time, how often she was touched. A handshake. A pat on the back. A hug, a kiss, friendly or intimate, it all added up, and it was important. The lack of contact made her feel less of a person somehow. As if she weren’t part of life at all.

Of course, living in terror 24/7 would do that, too. Boone could be an arrogant jerk, but under the circumstances, that arrogance was just what the doctor ordered.

She wondered if they would have to keep up the charade. If he’d kiss her again. The idea wasn’t unwelcome. Oh, who was she kidding? She totally wouldn’t kick him out of bed.

“Are you still standing there? You’re not even dressed.”

She jumped. “Relax, soldier. This isn’t the barracks.”

“No, it’s not. It’s war. And if you want to win, you’d better get that pretty ass of yours in gear.”

It was hard to gripe at a guy who’d just complimented her ass. So she went with the huffy walk. That’d show him.

After she got changed into her running shorts and sports bra, she put her T-shirt back on and met him in the kitchen. He’d found her blender and he’d used it to concoct some ghastly looking goo. Which he held out to her, as if she would actually drink it. “What drugs are you taking?”

“Excuse me?”

“You must be high if you think I’m going to drink that.”

He sighed heavily. “You don’t even know what’s in it.”

“It doesn’t look very good.”

“It’s got a lot of the stuff you need. You’re weak, you’re out of shape, and we have no time for screwing around. So drink it.”

She took the tall glass in her hand, and sniffed. It didn’t smell too horrible. And when she sipped it, she was surprised to find that it didn’t taste all that bad, either. More like a fruit smoothie than ground-up spinach.

“Finish the whole thing,” he said. “We need to get going.”

She saluted and downed the brew. It was a lot, and by the time she’d drained the glass, he was standing at the front door, keys in his hand, waiting impatiently. He’d changed from his jeans to a pair of sweatpants and a muscle tee, which made his shoulders and arms look ridiculously buff. Damn.

“Well?”

“I’m coming, jeez.”

Milo figured he was coming, too, given his hysterical bouncing by the door. Boone crouched down and scratched him behind the ears. “You want to come, boy? You want to take a ride?”

“Really?” she asked. “He can come?”

“Sure. We’re going to take a run, then when we’re at the gym, he can hang.”

“Wow, what kind of gym lets dogs in?”

“Not the kind you’re used to. Let’s lock and load.”

She got ready to face the camera again, while Boone got Milo’s leash from the wall hook. When they went outside, Boone immediately put his arm around her shoulder. Even though it was only the second time, she focused on the reassurance, not the reason, so it was better. She leaned against him, the way she would if he’d really been her boyfriend. With Milo pulling, and Boone’s hand tightening on her arm, she knew they painted a pretty picture, one that was sure to infuriate the bastard. Now, the only question was, would Boone kiss her again?

“MOVE YOUR ASS, PRATCHETT. We haven’t even gone a mile.”

Boone, who watched her from about a hundred yards ahead, had to laugh when the exhausted woman flipped him the bird. He knew he was pushing her. He’d trained enough in his life to know when to ease back, and they weren’t there yet.

The biggest drawbacks were her sleep deprivation and the fact that she hadn’t been eating, but today’s workout would help with the former, and his protein shakes would start building muscle almost immediately. They couldn’t afford to take it slow. She might have to protect herself tonight, tomorrow…

He kept on trotting backward, watching her run. He’d found out she used to run a lot, and that was a good thing. Muscle memory and form were all in her favor. Now it was just a question of stamina.

But he could tell she was only going to make one mile. It was enough. Besides, they still had some maneuvers to get through at the gym, so he geared it down. “Okay, Christie. Slow her down.”

She took him a little too literally, shifting to a walk, her hands on her hips, her chest heaving. Milo, who’d had himself a great run all over the grass, looked to her for a pet, but she didn’t have the energy.

Boone, who hadn’t even broken a sweat, moved to the two of them, wishing there were more time for him to really get in a decent run. “You did great,” he said. “Got your heart pumping, just like it should.”

“Right,” she said, still struggling to calm her breathing. “I’ll fall over dead, and then the problem is solved.”

“Come on. You’re doing great.”

“Milo,” she said, waving her hand in Boone’s direction. “Kill.”

Milo did come, but it was to lick Boone’s hand.

“You traitor,” she said.

“He knows who his friends are.”

“Oh, please. You gave him a giant rawhide bone. What’s not to like?”

A smart-ass answer was on the tip of his tongue, but he kept quiet. Instead, he headed toward the truck, watching the park for anyone who looked at all hinky.

He’d brought her back to his neck of the woods. He knew Pasadena. Where the restaurants were, where to get the best price for his Goldwing tires, and he knew where the dark alleys were, where a man could disappear.

He’d chosen the grassy area in front of Cal Tech, and while he saw several student types wandering around, it was mostly empty this time of day. He’d parked where he had an easy out, and despite his workout gear, he was armed.

He doubted the stalker would show in such a public place. If something was going to go down, it would be at Christie’s, where the geek would have some measure of control and containment. Boone knew for a fact the geek wasn’t getting into the gym.

Christie was breathing better when they got to the truck, and although Milo looked sorry to leave, he jumped into the backseat with his typical enthusiasm. Damn great dog.

Boone climbed behind the wheel, his gaze running over the length of her exposed legs. Despite her current circumstances, she still had some muscles in her calves and thighs. A few weeks with him and she’d be ready for anything. Given the time he’d allotted for this mission, he could still get her into pretty decent shape. All he had to do was keep his focus. They headed off to the gym, which wasn’t far.

“I need a drink,” she said, leaning her head against the side window.

“There’s a water bottle in the back.”

“There’s a root-beer float at the Dairy Queen.”

“You can have one later. After the gym.”

She lifted her head to give him a dirty look. “You’re not short enough to have a Napoleon complex, so, what, you used to be a drill sergeant?

“I can’t believe you’re bitching this much when we haven’t done anything yet.”

“Believe it. You don’t seem to get that I haven’t slept in months. How am I supposed to do all this gym crap when I can barely keep my eyes open?”

He stopped at a notoriously long red light on Colorado Boulevard. “You don’t think he knows you’re exhausted? That every day you don’t rest, you’re more vulnerable?”

She winced, then turned to face the street.

“You’re going to get plenty of sleep tonight,” he said. “I’ll be there, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Christie nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

“I know,” he said. It would be so easy to coddle her now, to give in to those big, dark eyes. Maybe offer the kind of comfort he gave best. He just watched the traffic, front and back, making sure they weren’t being followed.

After a few minutes, she reached behind his seat to get a bottle of water, her hand resting on his shoulder. The touch wasn’t sexual at all. But try telling that to his dick.

THE ODOR IN THE GYM WAS a combination of testosterone and dirty socks. Christie saw one other woman inside, and she was enormous. Huge muscles, the thickest thighs and back on any woman Christie had ever seen, and a really cute hairdo. The woman was curling a barbell the size of a refrigerator, and she seemed pretty damned determined to make some portion of her body explode.

Boone didn’t even blink as he led her and Milo toward a giant mat lying in an otherwise empty room. Once there, he turned, put his hands behind his back, spread his legs, and looked at her as if he were going to tell her to drop and give him twenty. Milo, the chicken, curled up by the wall, his head comfortably cradled in his paws. Christie turned to check out the quickest exit. No one was blocking her way, but there were at least four guys out there who could lift a VW without breaking a sweat, so she didn’t run. Yet.

“You’ve never had any hand-to-hand training? Any kind of self-defense?”

“I kneed a guy in the groin once,” she said. “But it wasn’t on purpose.”

“You remember what he did when you kneed him?”

“I believe he cupped himself and wept like a child.”

“Sounds about right. Now, remember what you did to me when I had you?”

She nodded. “I hyperventilated and passed out.”

He gave her an almost-grin. “Before that.”

“I kicked at your leg, and hit you with the back of my head.”

“Exactly. The head butt was a good move, one that could have worked, at least in part. But kicking my leg with your bare feet wasn’t very effective.”

“Milo was supposed to attack.”

“You can’t depend on Milo or me. For the purposes of this lesson, you’re on your own, and this guy means business.”

The reassurance she’d felt being with Boone all morning fell away as her situation came home once more. She wasn’t safe, not even a little. And this might just be the most important lesson she’d ever learn. “All right. Tell me what to do.”

From his parade-rest position, Boone looked past her and nodded. She turned to find a hulk of a man encased in rubber so thick he couldn’t put his arms down. He wore a football helmet and huge handguards. She doubted he’d feel a cannonball hit at fifty feet.

“This is Josh,” Boone said. “You cannot hurt him, but I want you to try.”

“Okay. How?”

“Come behind me and try to choke me.”

“I thought Josh and I were going to mix it up?”

“You will. But not for a while. He has somewhere to be.” Boone turned toward the man. “One hour.” Then he faced her again. “Okay. Take me out.”

She walked around to Boone’s back, feeling the flex of the mat underneath her sneakers. Not sure if she was supposed to try and surprise him, or strangle him, or just put her arm around his neck, she went for the full court press. The second she had her arm in place, it was swept away, she was spun around, and her arm was pulled uncomfortably high up behind her own back. That was only the beginning.

Boone made her try every kind of attack she could imagine. From the front, from the side, from the top as if he were sleeping, when he was walking, when he was running. And he defeated her with such ease tears came to her eyes. Not because she was hurt, although she was sore, but because her own uselessness hit her harder than he ever could.

What hit her equally hard was that she hadn’t just missed being touched, she’d been starved for it. Every block, every hold, and even though she was fighting as hard as she knew how, she was completely aware of all the body parts and where they met.

He actually flipped her over, and to keep her completely immobilized, he lay on top of her, flat out, breast to chest. For a long minute, she stared into green eyes that seemed lit by an inner fire. The next minute, with his breath and her breath swirling between them, she thought sure he was going to close the distance and kiss her. But he blinked.

The next thing she knew, he was on his feet and out of the room.

She stared at the ceiling as she tried to calm the hell down. This was war. He’d been very specific. And in war, there was no room for the sex.

Boone walked back in. She felt his footsteps on the mat, felt his presence as he approached. He didn’t come too close. Instead, he told her, in his most military voice, to get to her feet. It was time for her to start the active phase of today’s lesson.

“Start the active phase? What the hell have I been doing for the last hour?”

“Learning, I hope.”

Behind him, Josh reentered the room, still wearing the puffy suit. Boone moved aside and didn’t say anything more. He just waited and watched as Josh attacked.

The first time she hit back it was so girly it made her blush. An hour later, she was attacking him with the weight of her body behind her, and more importantly,with the strength of Boone’s conviction that she had all the resources she needed to win.

By the time he called it quits, she was dripping with sweat, shaking from exhaustion and feeling at least a little better about her chances to survive.

She also had a brand-new appreciation for Boone, which had nothing to do with his hotness. He hadn’t let her get away with squat. He didn’t take any excuses and he expected her to be at her best every minute. It made her think a lot about Nate, about how he would have been right here, training her just like this, if he’d been around.

Boone finished a quiet conversation with Josh, then met her where she stood, still trying to catch her breath. He put his arm around her shoulder and leaned close. “You were awesome,” he said, his voice low and intimate, but filled with conviction. “You fought like a tiger, and I feel damn sorry for anyone who tries to mess with you.”

She laughed, even as the swell of pride rose up in her worn-out body. “You silver tongued devil.”

“I’m not bullshitting here, kiddo. You’re fierce, and don’t hold back. That’s gonna keep you alive.”

Her ego deflated as she remembered, yet again, why she was doing all this. The bastard wasn’t out of the game. “You know what’s weird? I can’t hold on to it. Even when it scares the crap out of me, even when I’m shaking in my boots, it won’t stay in my brain. And every time I remember, it’s like knowing for the first time. Knowing he’s after me. That it’s intensely personal, and that he’s never going to just give it up.”

Boone squeezed her shoulder. “You’re not the victim anymore, Christie. You’re the victor. And the poor bastard doesn’t even know it.”

She turned her head just enough to meet his gaze. “We’re gonna kick his ass.”

He nodded. “We sure are.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.” Boone’s lips parted and he moved a tiny bit closer. Her eyes fluttered shut as she waited.