cheated hyenas as a pack with a prior claim and better suits claims their prey. No one’s picking a fight but now they’re curious, hoping for drama.
Darnley turns back to me, his expression veiled but his manner brisk. ‘OK, you’ll ride with me. One of the men will return your car.’ He takes my arm and propels me towards the dark car, whose engine is revving up and ready for the off.
Some of the men have already piled into the rear seats and the driver’s poised with his hands on the wheel. Darnley pushes me onto the low bench seat alongside his and climbs in next to me, slamming the door shut as he wedges himself thrillingly against me.
Across the street my hire car is already easing into the traffic, one of his men at the wheel. We do a swift half-turn and set off in the opposite direction.
The whole incident took about three minutes.
* * *
Fort Worth seems pleasant and leafy, from what I can see of it. After twenty minutes wedged next to Darnley’s thigh I’m finding it hard to concentrate on the scenery speeding past.
It’s back, the invisible thread that pulled me to him the night we met, that drew me into the spell of his gaze the instant I walked into the hotel pool area. It’s been tugging us closer every second we’re apart. Now, with his men all around us, we’re forced to sit painfully close but forbidden to touch in the way we need to touch. I can feel the heat from his chest, his arm and his thigh burning into me, the coiled power in his muscles tense against my softer body.
He rests one hand loosely in his lap, close to mine, but his other steals round the back of my waist and clutches me to him as we sway slightly at any swerve in the road. His fingers do the talking, pressing into me, his touch thrilling and heady. His heart’s beating steadily somewhere near my arm. Or is it my heart? I can’t tell.
From time to time he mutters a curt instruction to the driver. Finally he leans close to murmur in my ear. At least I think what’s why he leans close, but he breathes deep before he finally whispers, like he’s drinking me in, ‘We’re headed for his hotel, a little way out of town. That was where he said he’d be. Unless you know something different?’
His breath drifts over my skin like a caress, making me shiver.
I glance up and breathe in his aftershave and the light, spicy scent of his skin. ‘That was where I was headed too. I tried to text him but I can’t get a signal.’
‘You mean he’s not been in touch? Show me.’ His lips are so close they almost touch me. His breath on my neck is soothing and seductive but his tone is low and abrupt.
In a daze I hand over my phone.
He flicks through my messages and then hands it back. ‘Here. Keep it switched on. We can track him if he tries to make contact.’
‘Why do you want to see my messages?’ I’m curious. Watching experts always interests me.
‘To see if you’re lying.’
I waste a furious glance at his elegant profile as he looks away. A sudden clench in his cheek warns me he’s still angry.
We ride the rest of the way in silence while his men talk quietly about baseball.
Ryan’s holed up in a sprawling ranch-style complex with distant golf courses and fenced-in rides for horses. There are pennants flying, golf buggies cruising by, and leisurely middle-aged couples in bright Bermuda shorts strolling on the fairways. As we pull up I stake my claim. ‘Let me go in alone. I want to see him first.’
Next to me his thigh stiffens thrillingly. I try to ignore it.
‘We’ll go in together. Let me handle this.’ As he gets out I move to follow. His driver grabs my arm but Darnley glances back as my arm jerks free. ‘It’s OK, she can come too. I’ll keep an eye on her. Wait here.’
The lobby is spacious and friendly. Darnley hangs back while I lean on the counter and try to catch the attention of the neatly suited blonde. She’s staring at Darnley like a stranded goldfish, mouth open.
‘Ryan Mitchell,’ I say for the third time, my voice rising along with my temper. ‘He’s expecting us.’
She tears her glance away from Darnley just long enough to check a screen on the desk in front of her. ‘Mr Mitchell … checked out two hours ago. According to our records he’s no longer on the premises.’
I stare. ‘But there must be some mistake. Maybe he’s waiting in the bar. He asked me to meet him here.’ My heart sinks at this repeat no-show. Dallas? Fort Worth? What’s he playing at?
At this point Darnley steps forward, his voice like granite. ‘Check again.’
The woman looks startled, flushes bright pink and stares obediently at the screen for a moment, her eyes wide. ‘No, sir,’ she stammers, batting her eyelashes. ‘Mr Mitchell’s definitely gone. Can I do anything else for you?’
‘Yes. You can show us our suite.’ He hands over a card. She jumps like a startled deer and glances at me with new respect.
‘Yes, sir. Certainly, sir. Right away.’
Now it’s my turn to stare as I glance back at Darnley. ‘What are you doing?’ I keep my voice to a low hiss but it’s an effort.
‘You have luggage, Mr Wolfe?’
Darnley eyes her calmly across the counter. ‘My men have already prepared the rooms. Just show us where they are.’
Her eyes widen, her swift downward glance at my bare, unmade-up face, plain ponytail and rumpled shorts a simple surprise reflex that someone like me should be travelling with someone as important as this.
I barely notice. A startling fact is hammering into my brain. He’s planned this.
Our rooms are subtly prepared with lamps switched on, beds invitingly turned down and a well-stocked refreshment trolley. They look out over the lawns and distant golf courses.
As the door closes behind him he rounds on me. ‘What the hell’s going on? Why couldn’t you wait? Now we’ve lost him, thanks to you.’
‘It’s not your business, Darnley. Let me do this on my own.’
His eyes blaze. ‘When all you do is take risks? From now on you travel with me. What made you get out of the car in a neighbourhood like that?’
‘A neighbourhood like what, Darnley? Full of poor people? Poor people aren’t dangerous. They’re just poor. We can’t all be millionaires. I just wanted to ask them the way. If you weren’t so keen on playing Good Cop, Bad Cop they’d probably have told me.’
‘Or they could have raped you, hauled you off to some crack den, mugged you and left you for dead. Don’t do that again.’
His rage is making me angry too and I’m saying things I don’t mean. In truth I was badly scared and glad to be rescued but now we’re alone I’m rattled. I want him so badly I ache.
He glares at me, his gaze steady and unsettling. ‘In a quiet, run-down neighbourhood anything could happen. The back streets are
