Reinstated Bond (2 page)

Now it was his turn to moan, and he freed his vise-like grip
and let his fingers trail down her back to grab her ass, drawing her even
closer in that same way he always had--that same way that made her wonder if
what they were doing was sex or not.

Shit.

Her eyelids sprang open. She unhooked her leg from around his
and pulled back from his satiny lips. Before he could assess her strategy, she
shifted her weight and kneed him in the baby-maker.

"Sorry!" she said, genuinely meaning it as he hunched
over, cradling his nuts in his hands. Her legs felt like gelatin, but she
backed out of the garage, eyes still on her former love, until she was in the
yard, then she darted into the cornfield once more.

CHAPTER TWO

"I'm going to wait right here until she comes back,"
Carter said as he edged his way past the
bruja
and into the Skinner laundry room. He
passed into the den and plopped onto the old comfortable corduroy sofa that had
been new when he had Marilyn were high school sweethearts. They'd come close to
breaking it in once or twice, but Marilyn had a thing about keeping her panties
on back then. Rumors in town were that she still did.

He put his booted feet on the coffee table and crossed his arms
over his chest. "Comfy."

Nicola narrowed her eyes to slits and let out a low, fast
tirade of incomprehensible Spanish. The two years of Spanish he had been forced
to take in high school had obviously ill-prepared him for the sharp tongue of a
native speaker. Hell, he wasn't even sure it was Spanish. He should have
recognized at least a couple of words.

He held firm. He wouldn't let the little witch scare him off
this
time. He
cocked one brow up at her, daring her.

She ground her teeth and stomped off into the adjoining kitchen
where she thrashed pots and pans around.

He picked up the television remote and clicked on the set,
scrolling through the stations and finally landing on the prep sports score
recap. He settled into the sagging sofa and laced his fingers behind his head.
Oh yeah, he could wait all night.

When the sounds of sizzles and pops erupted from the
neighboring room, he sat up and sniffed the air.
That little witch…

He sniffed again.

No
way. Fried chicken?

He was on his feet as if compelled by some external
supernatural force and leaned against the kitchen doorframe before he could
stop himself.

She stood in front of the stove with one hand on her narrow
hips and the other holding a long fork. She gave him peaceful eyes as she
turned golden fried chicken over in a deep cast iron pan.

"The rumors are true. You are an evil human being,"
he said.

She shrugged. "No use wasting good chicken. I took it out
this morning for Marilyn."

He swallowed. "What'cha got to go with it?"

"All of her favorites." She peeked under pot lids and
drew the escaping steam to her face with the fanning of her free hand.

He swallowed again. "Gravy, too?"

"Mm-hmm." She turned her back to him and started
removing crispy chicken parts from the hot oil and laying them on a rack nearby
to drain.

"So, you're gonna eat all that by yourself, huh?"

She shrugged. "Maybe give the rest to Terry. He likes
mashed potatoes. Oh!" She snapped her fingers, put down her fork, and
turned the chicken pan down low. She whisked past him, through the den, and out
the laundry room.

He heard her light footsteps across the deck planks and then
the sound of her stomping down the steps.

He stood frozen, stomach growling. He'd been stalking Marilyn
all day without regard to his next meal and the error had finally caught up to
him. Certainly Nicola wouldn't notice just
one
piece of chicken missing. There was a
goddamned mountain of it. No way that little witch was going to put it all away
alone. His feet started moving of their own volition again. He poised his hand
over the rack, right over one crispy boneless breast and licked his lips. He
had never seen anything more succulent. The rising steam coming off it, the
slight sheen of the golden-brown coating as grease drained off, that little
crispy nub at the end that just begged to be ripped off and tossed into his
mouth.

Jesus!

He grabbed it and nearly dropped the damned thing it was so
hot. "Shit. Shit."

"Such an idiot," Nicola said, returning to the room
with Terry in tow. She rolled those spring green eyes and got a plate down from
the cabinet to thrust at him. "Here."

He dropped the chicken on the plate and took it from her. She
got tongs and heaped on another big breast piece and a drumstick. Then she
shoved serving spoons into the mashed potatoes, sweet corn, and glazed carrots
before removing a stretch of plastic wrap from the gravy boat. "Have at
it," she said before grabbing a can opener and a tin of prescription dog
food.

He didn't need to be told twice. He heaped his plate high,
drizzled gravy over nearly everydamnthing, and accepted the fork she thrust at
him. He took Mr. Skinner's seat at the table and tucked in, nearly dying from
bliss at the little witch's adept use of spices.

Terry nosed his bowl close to Carter's foot and lay on the
floor, putting snout to food in much the same manner Carter figured he must
look.

Oh
well.
He found it hard to care.

In fact, he was halfway through the mountainous pile in front
of him when he heard a car door slam just off the deck, the start of an
ignition, then the squeal of tires as the driver pressed foot to accelerator.

He gave Nicola a cool look.

She smiled and drizzled gravy over her potatoes. "Might as
well finish. Be a shame to let good food go to waste."

*

"Blech."

Marilyn tossed her backpack onto the questionable bedspread and
tiptoed around the bed, being very careful not to touch anything in the motel
room more than necessary. That would certainly make sleeping difficult. She
wasn't even sure if she would stay, the room was just that disgusting. She
wasn't an expert on seedy motel rooms by any stretch of the imagination, but
she was pretty sure the carpet wasn't supposed to squish with each step.

She turned on the bathroom light, made an "ick" sound
as she pulled back a sticky hand, and turned the light right back off after
spotting the exposed plumbing behind the bathtub. It was so exposed she could
see straight through into the neighboring room. There was no one in it at the
moment, but even for thirty bucks a night, she wasn't willing to make that sort
of gamble.

She tiptoed back to the bed, snatched up her bag, and left.

Due to there being some sort of convention in the area, she
only had one lodging alternative left, and she'd been avoiding it. Every time
she drove past that hotel in the past ten years she thought back on that one
fateful prom night where she lay on a bed with her dress hiked up to her waist,
Carter in a tux poised over her with his teeth worrying at her lips, his hand
in her panties.

They'd very nearly gone all the way, but something had niggled
in the back of her mind. They hadn't even gone to prom together. They'd gone
steady for more than a year with hardly anyone knowing it. They'd stood on
opposite ends of that gym, staring longingly at each other all evening, and
finally slipped out around eleven when people had stopped paying attention to
each others' pretty dresses and what was in the flasks the boys had smuggled in
in their back pockets.

She'd followed him in his truck all the way to Williamston
where they parked on backside of the new hotel, hoping not to get spotted.

He'd registered for the room and gone back outside to fetch
her.

She'd been a bundle of nerves in the elevator on the way up,
anticipating what was about to happen and what it would mean for them, if
anything.

Somehow, while staring at the ceiling of that spanking new
hotel room, she'd found her sense of self worth, and swatted him off of her.

"What's wrong, baby?" he'd asked, that handsome face
marked with confusion.

"I can't," she'd said, while patting beneath the bed
in search of one errant sandal. She needed to
go
.

"I thought we agreed that we'd wait until tonight?"

"And then what? I wait some more and more for you to
graduate and move out and grow a pair?"

His mouth had flapped open. "I…"

"Right. I know where this is going, and I'd rather end it
here."

"No!" He'd scrambled off the bed and tried to wrap
strong arms around her shoulders. That was the first time she'd kneed him in
the nuts.

"I'm sorry, Carter. If you're afraid of what folks'll say if
they find out you're dating the mutt, you'll keep right on making excuses.
Momma's right. There's someone for everyone, and maybe you're not it for
me."

And she'd left.

He'd graduated shortly after and moved out of the county. She
hadn't really crossed paths with him since she was sixteen. Now she realized
that same old torch she carried for the guy with the smile that could light up
the night sky had never been extinguished.

"God
damn
him," she muttered as she steered her car into the
hotel's lot. She parked in that same spot as when she was a teen and registered
for a single room using cash and a fake ID. She may have been fired from her
computer helpdesk job when she was smacked with the arson charge, but she still
had a few friends in low places willing to help her out--anything to bring down
"the man," they'd said.

She fell onto the bed with a huff and scratched the itchy spot
on her calf from where some bug had gnawed on her out in the cornfield. She
needed a plan. She was running with only a few hundred dollars cash to her
name. If she'd been smart, she would have stowed away in her daddy's truck
before he made his last run, but breaking the law wasn't something she
routinely practiced. Yes, she'd missed her court date. What choice did she
have?

"Maybe I'll rent a cabin at a national park or something.
Hide out until the idiot police figure things out." She raked a hand
through the curls of her messy ponytail and sighed. "Should dye my
hair."

She scoffed. Yeah,
that'd
make her inconspicuous. She was just one
of those easily recognized types. With her brown skin, curly black hair, and
the hazel eyes that weren't quite Nicola's green and not quite her father's
brown, she stood out. She'd stand out even more with a bad dye job.

"Maybe a hat and some sunglasses," she said with a
yawn. "Ditch the car somehow. Maybe take the bus."

She scoffed.

"Take the bus
where
?"

Her eyelids drooped.

She slept.

CHAPTER THREE

Nicola and Marilyn had gotten the better of him twice, but
Carter was sure that wouldn't happen again. Thanks to a tip from his friend who
worked the night shift at the Martin Motor Lodge, he learned a very tan woman
with high cheekbones, a hell of a lot of black hair, and legs that didn't quit
had checked in, and immediately out. It always paid for him to treat the people
he bounty hunted with the utmost of care and professionalism. They remembered
it. They did him favors.

She only had a half-hour lead, so he figured she couldn't have
gone far. And damn it, that half hour he'd squandered stuffing his face had
been worth her repeated escape, even if he did have to endure Nicola's chiding
about the length of his hair and the bawdiness of his tattoos. Jesus, he'd been
in the Marines. He was happy the worst he had from his stint was a couple of
pin-up girls riding heavy artillery on his forearms.

He swung a U-turn on 17-Business and scanned the parking lot of
the convention center hotel. Nothing recognizable out front. He pulled in
anyway and drove around back where the long-term guests tended to park. He chuckled.
One tan sedan with a stack of computer programming manuals piled in the
backseat. He idled next to the car and shook his head. Worst fugitive ever,
that Marilyn. Had any other guy been assigned her retrieval, they probably
wouldn't have found her so quickly. But he and Mar--they had
history
. Now
that he'd seen her again, with all those new curves but the same expression of
adoration on her face, he wanted to rekindle some of that old teenage fervor.
He wanted this all-grown-up Mar: the one who looked like she wanted him, too,
but would probably just as soon give him another kick in the nuts than admit
it.

He parked his truck next to her car and removed the valve caps
from her tires.

Nice
slow leak ought to slow her down, just in case.

He pocketed the caps and made his way into the hotel only to
freeze by the elevator bank. What room? Probably should have had a plan.

He did what he always did in the absence of having a good plan.
He bullshitted.

He strutted up to the reception counter and gave the girl behind
it--who couldn't be much more than nineteen--a winning smile.

She blushed.

"Hey, honey. Listen, you might have a little trespassing
problem. I was in the gym and I overheard a couple of ladies on the treadmills
congratulating themselves for sneaking in here so easily every day to use your
equipment."

The girl's lips tightened into a flat line and she visibly
shook. "Ugh! I'm sick of these people comin' in here and using our
amenities like this is some kind of country club. I'll be with you in a moment,
sir!"

She stomped from behind the counter and made a beeline for the
fitness center.

Carter, aware of the security cameras installed behind him,
whistled and tapped his fingers on the countertop while he scanned the clerk's
station.

Ah
.
Registration
cards
.

He could just barely make out the one on top, but he knew that
handwriting. He had a whole shoebox of love letters written in that scrawl.