He could give her some time, but what if later was too late? What if Lesley arrived back in Boston with a new boyfriend and her mind made up? Rob would never forgive himself for not trying at least. But what if he found nothing going on between Tim and Lesley, and Lesley thought he was a jerk for not trusting her?
Rob sighed as he stared unseeingly out the windshield. What a total lose-lose situation. He could drive up to the cabin and risk losing her. Or he could go home and risk losing her.
Stated like that there seemed to be only one way to go. At least by going forward he had some control over how things turned out.
The cautious side of Rob, however, was not quite ready to commit all the torpedoes to a frontal attack. Having options still sounded like a good idea. So, instead of announcing his presence by driving up to the cabin, he pulled ahead to the edge of the clearing and parked the car in the deep shadows. Rob cracked open his door and listened. Nothing stirred but the crickets. He kept his focus on the cabin as he got out and eased the car door shut with a soft click.
He gritted his teeth and grunted softly when he straightened his left leg and tried to walk. A sharp pain knifed through his knee. Keeping his leg bent in the same position all the way from Boston had not agreed with it.
His aches and pains faded to the back of his mind, however, when he approached the Camaro. His stomach churned as he reached the top of a hillock that allowed him to see in the cabin’s front window. A quick glimpse of Tim and Lesley entwined on the pull-out sofa bed was all he needed — in fact, considerably more than he needed. Rob felt as though someone had yanked sharply downwards on a rope tied to his insides. With a physical effort he tore his gaze away from the sight and stumbled back in the direction he had come. The image burned in his mind.
How could they? I’ll kill them!
After a few steps he stopped and bent over, hands on knees, trying to fight the gagging feeling. His breath came in ragged gulps of air. He felt like a combination peeping Tom and jilted lover, and didn’t know which was worse.
What was he supposed to do now? It was bad enough to fear the worst, but to actually see it in living color made him want to explode.
A part of him — a big part of him — wanted to burst into the cabin and tear a strip off both of them.
The rest of him knew what an ass he would make of himself if he did so.
Rob straightened up and walked dejectedly back toward his car.
Ray Landry drove slowly along Route 31, keeping one eye on the GPS unit while guiding the car through the two-lane road’s twists and turns. His eyes flicked back and forth from the device’s display to the pools of light thrown by his headlights. Dysart had only been able to tell him that Donovan was headed for some cabin out in the woods, so Landry was dependent on the tracking device to guide him in when he got close. Because of the device’s range, Landry had been able to determine easily that his quarry was not in Worcester. The problem was that the area west of the city seemed to be little else but woods.
A number of secondary roads crisscrossed this area. He had tried half a dozen of them so far. Throughout these meanderings the display insisted stubbornly there was No Signal from the radio in Rob’s car. Landry wondered if he was going to have to go further afield. He could, for instance, try some of the many dirt roads that meandered off in various directions.
Landry was also starting to second-guess his decision to leave Gourley back in Boston. He could have tuned a second tracking unit to the same frequency as the first, and two searchers would be faster than one. Landry had good reasons, though, for going it alone. He didn’t completely trust Dysart’s information. What if Rob was still back in Boston? If so, Landry wanted his watchers to remain in place.
More importantly, he hated having witnesses when he worked, even an old confidante like Gourley. Landry still intended to make Rob disappear — permanently. Dysart would be furious, but losing a client was a small price to pay for eliminating someone who could pick Landry’s face out of a lineup.
Landry was confident he could make Rob talk this time, especially since Rob was on his way to meet a friend. Dysart would get his precious keyword and the bank could go back to making their shareholders happy. When stacked against such gains, what was the loss of one junior employee?
And the friend.
And whoever else happened to be with them.
Bright headlights stabbed at Landry’s eyes as a dump truck lumbered toward him from around a bend in the road. The truck hogged the center line as they met in the middle of the curve, which forced Landry to concentrate on hugging the outer edge of the paved surface. Rob’s location flashed briefly on the tracking device while Landry was doing so. By the time the truck was past and he looked down again, the display was back to No Signal.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Tim Whitlock floated on a tranquil river of limitless happiness, inexorably drifting toward the culmination of all his needs as he lay on the pull-out bed with his arms around Lesley. Each time she moved, the contact between them had the effect of slowing the passage of time and sharpening his perception. Every nuance of her touch, her scent — her self—became etched in his memory.
His entire body ached with physical longing. He felt like the film of a soap bubble, attuned to the slightest touch, yet at the same time strong enough to hold Lesley as she needed to be held, as powerful as a raging torrent. This passion was eclipsed many times over, however, by the needs of his soul, which howled to him: Heal me! Innumerable long-festering scars were about to be smoothed away as if they had never existed. This night would make up for every girl who had ever laughed at him when he asked her to dance. Lesley’s acceptance would obliterate the memories of the jeering teenaged faces that took such delight in his humiliation. Best of all, the years of waiting and watching while Rob intruded where he had no right to … well, Mr. Donovan would simply disappear as a factor in Tim’s life.
He luxuriated in the warmth of her. His breath caught each time she moved against him, whenever she created contact of her own volition. He wanted more, and more still.
Tim was aware that Lesley spoke to him from time to time, but he didn’t hear much of what she said. His head buzzed and swirled with the booze and the passion. He was fully occupied with the promise of skin and hair and warmth and not much else, except his overwhelming need to be accepted by her completely. He had waited for such a long time, hoping against hope this day would eventually arrive, and now it was worth every moment. Oh, so worth it.
“… out here.”
Tim opened his eyes and struggled to pay attention to the sound of her voice. She had one leg draped over his, which made it next to impossible for him to concentrate.
“Huh?”
Lesley grinned and moved her face even closer to his.
“I said this was a good idea,” she said, “coming out here.”
She had amazing eyes. Tim wanted to kiss them so badly.
“Definitely,” he said. His tongue felt sluggish.
Lesley ran one hand up the front of his t-shirt and ended up with her index finger on his lips. Tim’s pulse raced even faster. He gave the finger a clumsy kiss.
She smiled at him. “Are you glad we’re here?”
Oh God yes.
“You have no idea,” he breathed, and then leaned in to kiss her neck.
Lesley drew in a sharp breath at the touch of his lips. Her leg came up so her hip was resting squarely on his. If only she would move that hip over just a few more inches.