“So they could have swum to safety.”
“Or they could have drowned,” his man said.
Jerome managed to hold back a string of curses. “Are you looking for them?”
“Not a good idea,” the man said.
“And why is that?” he asked in a dangerously quiet voice.
“In the first place, that firefight and the explosive charges he set off brought the cops running. If we’re on the road tonight, we could get caught. And it’s worse along the river. We’d have to dock and check out every estate. And that makes it likely someone would see us.”
Much as he hated to admit it, Jerome had to agree. All they needed was police involvement.
“Stay in the area and lie low until it looks like things have calmed down,” he said.
“Will do.”
Feeling torn in two, Shane watched Elena walk out of the room, presumably heading for the bathroom. He wanted to jump up and pull her close. He wanted to stroke her and kiss her and tell her she was the best thing that had happened to him in eons. And at the same time, he felt as though he was doing the right thing by backing off. Or repairing a mistake. She’d deliberately seduced him, and he’d let her do it because, under the circumstances, his defenses were down. Dammit.
He’d been attracted to her since the moment he’d set eyes on her, but he’d told himself that a personal relationship with her was off limits while he was working for S&D. Then he’d practically pulled every trick he could think of to make sure he was going to do the wrong thing. Now she was probably thinking that he was sorry that they’d made love. And he was confused enough to wonder if he was.
After stepping into the bathroom, Elena looked over her shoulder to make sure Shane hadn’t followed her down the hall. She still had to leave the door open to see what she was doing, but when she was sure she was alone, she took off her pants again and used a wad of toilet tissue to wash herself off, seeing the mixture of blood and sticky liquid. Proof that the scene between them hadn’t been another dream.
She flushed the evidence, then put her pants back on. She knew he’d be watching her when she came back to the bedroom. Truly, it would be easier to walk off the boat and disappear into the night. But she knew that wasn’t a good idea. And she knew she couldn’t let her insecurities drive her.
Shane had wanted her. He’d taken good care of her when they made love. But now he was probably having second thoughts. She’d just have to prove to him that he hadn’t made a mistake.
With that in mind, she walked slowly down the hall and into the bedroom. Her gaze went to the bed. Of course Shane wasn’t there. He was sitting in the corner, cradling his gun in his lap. She wanted to go to him and hug him, but his posture kept her on the other side of the room.
A few minutes ago, he’d asked her if she was okay, and she’d said, “Better than all right.”
He’d made wonderful love to her, but as she looked at him, she was surer than ever that he was thinking he’d made a mistake by giving in to temptation.
Maybe she should silently climb into bed and pretend that she could sleep. Instead, she stayed where she was.
“Are you angry with me?” she asked, her own voice startling her in the silence of the room.
He sat up straighter. “Of course not.”
She wondered if it was an automatic response.
“Then what?”
“Like I said, I have to keep watch.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t want them to get their hands on you.”
She answered with a tight nod. She stood where she was for a few more moments, then lay down and closed her eyes enough so that she could peer out from behind the screen of her lashes, watching Shane’s granite profile and wishing she knew what he was truly thinking.
He didn’t move, and finally she really did close her eyes, knowing it would be better if she got some sleep, since she had no idea what they would be facing in the morning. Somehow she managed to drift off, but her slumber was marred by dreams of her brother. Men were chasing him, catching him, doing things to him that made her gasp.
And it was all her fault.
She struggled toward consciousness and woke in the gray light that gathers before the sun comes up. Everything that had happened the day before came back to her in a rush. The good and the bad.
Making love with Shane had been more than she could have imagined. Then he had turned away from her, and she’d felt as though a piece of herself had been torn away.
She glanced over at him. He was sleeping in his chair, his gun still in his lap. She wanted to go to him. But she’d woken up feeling like she’d stabbed her brother in the back. She was praying that he was all right, but she had to know. She was sure Shane wouldn’t want her to call Alesandro. But she had to do it if she could.
Could she sneak out of the boat and get back before Shane woke up?
She had to try.
Chapter 17
Elena eased quietly off the bed, stopping to check that she hadn’t wakened Shane.
When he didn’t move, she breathed a small sigh and crossed the room. From the hall, she stopped again to check on him, then made a stop in the bathroom where she put on her sandals. They were still damp and stiff, but better than walking barefoot on the rough boards of the dock.
In the main cabin, she searched the countertops and drawers, looking for a phone and making a frustrated sound when she didn’t find one.
Shane had been watching Elena through slitted eyes. He hadn’t trusted her from the start, and now she was practically proving that she was up to something sneaky. Unless, of course, she was only getting up to go to the bathroom and didn’t want to wake him.
But he wouldn’t bet she was doing something innocent, not from the look on her face. The moment she went down the hall, he got out of his chair and quietly crossed to the doorway. He could hear her moving around in the main cabin, opening drawers and cabinets—apparently looking for something—but he stayed well back, out of sight. He heard the bell that he’d set up as an alarm give a hollow clank, presumably because she was holding on to the metal.
He cautiously made his way to the back of the boat in time to see her climb through the opening in the canvas. Once she was out of the cabin, he crept forward, watching her cross the deck and stand for a moment before starting toward the side where the boat was tied to the dock.
On the dock, Elena looked around, trying to get her bearings. About fifty yards away was a massive red-brick house. A mansion in what she recognized as colonial style, like at Williamsburg. It had a large center structure and smaller wings on either side. If anyone was home, there was no sign of them. Maybe they were so rich that they could afford to keep a house where they only came on weekends.
If she tried to get into the main building, she’d probably set off an alarm. But to her right was a swimming pool, and beside it was a building that was big enough to be a family home. She suspected that it was only a guesthouse or a pool house. Maybe there was a phone in there.
She hurried down the pier to a path made of stepping-stones. It led to the main house, so she turned off onto the lawn. Running across the open space, she made it to the smaller building and moved to the side away from the main house, where she looked in a window.
She saw a large room with a ceramic tile floor and comfortable sofas and chairs that looked like they were covered in fabrics that wouldn’t be ruined by the pool water. There was a fireplace at one end of the room. At the other end was a kitchen area. And on the counter was what she’d been looking for—a phone. A landline, which she hoped meant the phone was in working condition and didn’t need a battery charge. But could she get in there?