Deadly Love Read online

  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 walk
ing 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 b
eneath 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.