Subject:  Chapter 79 |
Author:
KK
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Date Posted: 14:46:09 02/12/06 Sun
CHAPTER 79
She closed her eyes, letting the feelings rush over her in a tidal wave of delicious sensation. The first touch of his mouth was soft—tentative, asking—instead of taking. The gesture was her undoing, and her lips parted in open invitation. He released her wrists to cradle her head, fingers entwined in her hair.
Relishing the freedom, she circled him with her arms and pulled him closer. The action was not planned or even thought of, but once acted, she knew it was an expression of what she’d desired for a long time. Watching him from afar, studying his every gesture, analyzing his relationships, must have sucked her in, made her vulnerable to him. Now, she had to acknowledge the truth—she wanted him, body and soul.
He raised up to look deep into her eyes, then cocked his head in a listening attitude.
“Tony?”
She held her breath, but heard no reply. What was going on? Obviously, Michael had heard something which alarmed him. He turned back to her.
“Shhhh…” he breathed, holding his finger to his lips. “Something’s wrong. Someone’s in the house.”
Niki listened, but whatever he’d heard was not repeated. Probably the cat. She thought that was the end of it and was therefore surprised when in one fluid move, he pushed up from the bed and crouched behind the door.
She stared at the gun he held firmly in his right hand. Where had that come from? “What are you doing?” Her words, although whispered, sounded loud in the stillness of the moment.
“Hush. Get behind the bed.”
Her eyebrows arched with emphasis—part surprise—part indigo. She wasn’t used to being ordered about.
“Do it.”
The tone of his last words left no room for argument, so without stopping to analyze the absurdity of the situation, she tumbled over the side of the bed.
She had little more than landed on the soft carpet when the door burst open—followed by two shots fired in rapid succession.
The blasts rang loud in the small room, and she heard a scream. By the time she found the courage to look over the side of the bed the shooting had stopped, and she realized the scream had been her own. Blood ran freely from the chest of a masked man lying dead halfway through the bedroom door. Michael stood over him—gun clasped limply in his hand.
“Friend of yours?” Michael asked, his voice
deceptively light.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that framing me evidently wasn’t enough for you. Was it your idea or Cassandra’s idea to hire a hit man?”
He’d lost her. “What are you talking about? I don’t know anything about a hit man.”
He slipped the weapon back into his back waistband. “Sure you don’t. Get your stuff. We’re leaving.”
“Why? Where are you taking me?”
“Somewhere your goons won’t find us.”
“And if I refuse?”
He cut her a sideways look. “Do it, and see what happens.”
The threat, though non-specific, was unmistakable. If she didn’t comply, she was sure he would insist and the result wouldn’t be pleasant.
“Fine.”
Fifteen minutes later they were driving down the road in Cassandra’s rented car. She had no idea of what had happened to the woman, but doubted it could be worse than what was slated for her future.
She glanced over at the angry face of the man sitting beside her and shrank further into the corner of the seat. She would be safe as long as he kept driving. What would happen to her when they stopped?
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