Slow Dancing With a Texan. Linda Conrad
they were just a joke—one in very bad taste to be sure, but not terribly scary.
The Houston Police Department hadn’t thought this stalker business was very serious, either. Because, although they’d taken statements from Lainie, her staff and family, the police told her there wasn’t too much they could do unless the writer made an overt move to harm someone. That practical stance had seemed reasonable at the time.
But all this shooting and chasing was certainly overt enough for her now. Silently she thanked heaven for her mother’s old friend, Chet Johnson. At least he’d taken the threat seriously enough to insist on finding a man to be her bodyguard in his off-duty hours.
The idea of a bodyguard had initially seemed silly. She didn’t have time or the patience for such nonsense. In fact, she’d been surprised that her mother made such a big deal over something she’d considered so unimportant.
Maybe Lainie would consider apologizing to her mom now. But it still seemed a little overboard.
“Pros,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Hang on. We’re about to shake them loose.”
He put his foot on the gas and sped out of the left lane, making the next exit ramp on two wheels and with no room to spare. Without bothering to stop for the light at the bottom of the ramp, he made two quick left turns and headed up the on-ramp going in the opposite direction.
Positive they must’ve lost the van with that move, Lainie caught her breath. Looking into the setting sun, she realized for the first time that they’d been heading east toward Louisiana. And now they were headed…where? Back to the city?
“Where are we going?” she croaked past a dry mouth.
Ignoring her question, he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a mobile phone. He punched in one number, then threw her a narrowed look as he spoke.
She overheard him making some reference to her and the Houston police, and guessed that he was speaking to his boss, Captain Johnson. Lainie was desperate to speak to Chet, too.
“Right. Code twenty-seven. Got it,” he said into the phone. Then he flipped it shut and stashed it.
“Wait! I wanted to talk to him.” She swiveled in her seat and glared at the side of Sloan’s head.
“Sorry.” He didn’t turn but continued to pay attention to the road ahead. “The captain said the Houston police want to talk to us, but they’re going to have to wait until tomorrow. It’s too risky for you to show up at one of the substations right now. Too obvious.”
“But you didn’t ask about my sister. I have to know what happened to her…to everyone.” Lainie was unaccustomed to being out of control.
“The most important thing now is to get you out of sight and keep you alive. The shooting stopped back there when you were removed from the scene.”
She took a calming breath and steadied her voice. “So where are we going?”
“We’re going to ground,” he told her. “Find a nice quiet place. Somewhere no one would think to look for you.”
“Home?” That sounded like a great plan to her. No one would think to look for her at the one place where she should be.
His mouth cracked into a near smile. “Not likely, Ms. Gardner. I think you’ve been visible enough for one day.” He didn’t look at her but swung the wheel in another fast exit. “We’re going to find a sleazy little motel so we can regroup and get to know each other better.”
Sloan chuckled when he’d spotted the look of absolute terror on Lainie’s face as he mentioned the sleazy motel. Her wide green eyes were filled with shock. Either she was afraid of stepping down a rung on her social ladder by checking into a fleabag joint, or she was terrified at the thought of getting to know him any better.
But for him, as he’d said the words, a picture had formed in his mind of her looking up at him from a motel bed, glistening with sweat, panting and breathless from having been completely loved—by him. Oh, and he would do a very thorough job of loving her, too. That was a pure fact. But now was not the time for those thoughts.
He forced himself to push aside the lustful images and concentrated instead on trolling the surface streets, backtracking and sidetracking to make sure the tail was gone. Trying not to think about how close she’d come to being killed, Sloan instead considered why a stalker would’ve hired professional killers.
That mode of operation certainly didn’t fit the profile of an ordinary nutcase. Most stalkers who took the time to send a warning letter generally wanted to see the face of their intended victims when they finally made a move.
Nothing about this case added up.
He found what he’d been searching for in a rundown dump located a few blocks off Westheimer in an area that had seen better days. The End of the Trail Motel had a parking lot in back where he could pull in under overhanging trees and hopefully not be spotted.
Cutting the engine, he turned to Lainie and nearly lost his breath. The woman’s sleeves were covered in blood and her hair glittered with tiny shards of glass. He wondered if he should be taking her to the nearest hospital, not to some dirty joint with peeling stucco walls and half-graveled driveways.
“You never answered me before, Lainie.” His voice cracked as he tried to sound calm. “Where are you hurt? Did any of the bullets hit you?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t get a chance to answer you, or even get two words in for that matter. And I’ll be surprised if I’m not totally black and blue from that wild ride. But no…I don’t think I was shot. I just can’t imagine where all this blood came from.”
“Sit quietly until I get us checked in, then. We need to make sure you’re not cut and still bleeding. Try not to move too much.” His heart was beating double time at the thought of leaving her alone, even for a few minutes. But he had no choice.
“Check in here? We’re going to stay at this place?”
“Just long enough to figure out what to do,” he told her as he stepped from the truck. “Now, be still and wait for me. Any more sudden movements and some of that glass in your hair might get in your eyes.” He pushed the truck’s automatic-door-lock buttons and stalked toward the motel’s office.
It took her a long moment to drag in another breath. Glass in her eyes? All of a sudden she realized she was scared. Down-deep, panic-inducing scared.
She was afraid to cry, didn’t even want to tremble for fear of the glass. But it wasn’t the thought of being cut that had her so terrified. No. It was the idea that someone out there truly wanted to kill her.
Worse yet, she simply couldn’t let herself get out of control. Oh, how she wished she had her sister here to talk to. Suzy always had an amazing way of calming her down and seeing the right answers through the haze of conflicting information. But Suzy might be fighting for her life right now. That inconceivable thought was the real reason Lainie was feeling so at a loss.
And now she would have to stay in a broken-down motel with a lawman who seemed like the strong, silent he-man type—and was gorgeous to boot.
Lordy, she was too scared to think straight. What difference did it make what Sloan looked like?
She had to start thinking clearly. She was bright enough and tough enough to outsmart any old stalker. All she had to do was concentrate on the problem and stop being sidetracked.
The truck’s door locks clicked again and Sloan wrenched open the passenger side door. “Your castle awaits, ma’am.”
He wouldn’t let her walk the fifty feet to a room he’d already opened that faced the back lot. Swiftly and quietly he carried her toward the two-story cement building, the one painted a pea-green color.
All the while she worried about him putting his hands on her body. And wondered how in the world she was supposed to concentrate on anything else.