He buried his face in her neck, inhaled her scent. He held her for a long time. "Dammit, Jamie, I want you so much it hurts."
"I feel the same."
Max raised his head and studied her. "Are you sure?"
She nodded.
"You just bought yourself a whole lot of trouble, Swifty." And he pushed her down the short hall to the bedroom.
Chapter Fifteen
They fell together on the bed, hard. Too hard. The bed shifted and shook, the pillows flew in every direction, and there was a loud bam. To Jamie, it sounded as if the house had caved in. She peeked out from beneath a pillow. The head- and footboards were still in place, but the mattress and box spring were on the floor. The bottom of the bed was still in place, as though suspended. She blinked at the sight. "We broke the bed."
"Ignore it," Max said, pressing his lips to hers.
She kissed him back, even as their bodies inched toward the top of the bed. Jamie's skull touched the wall beneath the headboard. "I'm a little uncomfortable," she said against Max's hot mouth.
He scooted her away from the wall. "Don't think about it. Don't think at all. You know what happens every time you start thinking."
Jamie slipped her arms around his neck, pulling him against her as she opened her mouth under his. It didn't matter that her feet were elevated a good eighteen inches above her head.
Max kissed her deeply, slipping his tongue into her mouth, exploring. She was only vaguely aware that Fleas was standing beside the bed sniffing her hair. Damned if Max didn't taste better than anything she had ever put in her mouth. Better than cotton candy and buttered popcorn. He broke the kiss, and they both sucked in air.
He looked into Jamie's eyes. "Are you OK?"
"I'm thinking this must be how it feels to be a bat. They hang upside down, too."
"See? You're doing it. You're thinking."
"I'll stop." Jamie put two fingers together, touched her temple, and turned them, as though switching off a button.
Max grinned and reclaimed her mouth. Jamie grasped his head, pulling him even closer. He paused only long enough to run his lips over her face, her closed eyelids, and her throat. She shivered.
Max pressed his lower body against hers. "You make me crazy," he said. "One minute I want to wring your neck, and the next minute I want to make love to you until we both drop."
He was making her crazy, too. Jamie reached for the buttons on his shirt. Her hands shook; her fingers trembled. She fumbled with the buttons, but her fingers were made clumsy by the need building inside of her. She could feel his skin beneath the shirt, solid and warm, but damned if she could get the buttons open. Finally, in a fit of frustration, she yanked the front of the shirt hard. Several buttons popped off and hit the floor.
They paused and watched the buttons bounce. "This was never my favorite shirt," Max said, covering her mouth once more.
Everything seemed to be happening quickly. Jamie was only vaguely aware of Max removing her sandals, caressing her legs. She reached for his belt as he slipped his hands up her skirt and tugged at her panties. Oh God, she thought as he managed to work them down past her hips and thighs and calves.
"Damn belt," she muttered, trying to unfasten it.
"You've got sexy legs," Max said, pressing his lips against her inner thigh.
"Thank you," she managed.
"You're welcome." He looked at her strangely. "Are you OK?"
"Maybe we could rearrange ourselves. My ears are pounding. I thought it was desire at first, but I think the blood is rushing to my brain."
In one move, Max turned her so that her head was at the foot of the bed and her feet at the top. "That's better," she said.
Max didn't seem to be listening. He shoved her skirt high as he kissed his way up her leg. He touched her lightly with his tongue, and Jamie cried out. She thought she heard Fleas moan in the background.
Fleas began to howl.
Max raised his head. "Come with me, Fleas," he said sternly.
The dog followed him from the bedroom and into the kitchen, where Max pulled out an entire package of ham. He tossed it, wrapper and all, to the floor before hurrying back into the bedroom, where he closed the door and locked it.
"Fleas is having a snack," he said, his gaze flitting over Jamie's half-clad body. He reached for his zipper. From somewhere far away a phone rang.
Jamie blinked rapidly, trying to clear her head, even as she reached for him. She barely choked the word, "Phone!"
Max paused, gave his head a shake, and raced from the room. He found his cell phone on the table. He pushed a button. "Yeah?" His breathing was ragged.
"Max Holt?"
"Speaking."
"Hello, Max. This is Nicholas Santoni."
* * * * *
Jamie got off the bed, pulled her skirt into place, and walked into the living room, where she found Max on his cell phone.
The look on his face told her something was wrong. "I'm listening," Max said.
Jamie waited, afraid to speak. Fleas got up and ambled toward them. Finally, Max hung up.
"What is it?" Jamie asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
"That was Nick Santoni. He has Dave."
"What? Oh, my God! Is Dave—"
"He's alive, but he's hurt. One of Santoni's dogs got him."
"Oh, no!" Jamie covered her face.
Max rubbed his brow as he punched several buttons on his phone.
Jamie looked at Max. "How did Santoni know where to reach you?"
"He called from Dave's cell phone. My number is programmed into it. Our phones have a GPS, you know, a global positioning—"
"I know, it allows you to see where the two of you are calling from."
"Yeah, only I can't get a fix on his location, so the system has obviously been disabled." It was obvious Max was trying to remain calm. "I need blankets and clean sheets. Just in case."
"What? Why?"
"Find them, Jamie. Quick!"
She raced to the hall closet and began pulling out bed linen while Max threw on a T-shirt and grabbed his shoes. He stuffed his cell phone into his pocket.
"Please tell me what's going on," Jamie said as he took the bedclothes from her.
"Santoni is going to call me back in ten minutes and tell me where he dumped Dave. I don't know what kind of shape he'll be in, but I may have to put him in the back of the truck and take him to the hospital."
"Let me grab my shoes and purse," Jamie said as Max started for the door.
"You can't come."
Jamie stopped in her tracks.
"Santoni told me to come alone or not at all."
"Max, you can't—"
"I have no choice." He raced out the door without closing it.
"We should call the police!" she cried.
"No! Santoni will kill Dave for sure then."
Jamie watched in silence as Max wrenched open the door to the passenger's side of the truck, dumped the sheets and blankets on the seat, and slammed the door. "I'll call you when I know something."
Jamie watched him speed away. She stood there, staring out into the night, wondering what to do next. What was Santoni up to? she wondered, unable to come up with an answer that didn't scare her to death. Had he already killed Dave? Was he just reeling Max in so he could kill him as well? Her thoughts terrified her.
She closed the door, stood there for a moment, unable to think. She needed to do something. Should she call the police? And tell them what? She raked her hands through her hair. What to do, what to do?
Calm down, she told herself. She had to find something to do, something that would give her direction. She was usually pretty good in emergencies; it wasn't until afterward that she went ballistic. Coffee. That was always a good place to start. She needed to be alert when Max called.
She put on the coffee and then shoved a load of laundry into the washing machine just to have something else to do. She hated the washing machine because it was so loud. No telling how o
ld it was. No time to worry about that now. She wondered how long she would have to wait before Max called. She would have to be ready to walk out the door the minute she heard from him. She had to be prepared in case—
She tried to think. She might have to meet Max at the hospital. If Dave was hurt, Max would definitely rush him to the hospital. That's probably when he would call her. She should change clothes. Better yet, a quick shower in case they had to sit with Dave a long time. Jamie hurried into her bedroom, grabbed a pair of slacks, a blouse, and fresh underwear, and raced into the bathroom.
* * * * *
Max's cell phone rang, and he snatched it up. "Hello, Max," Nick said from the other end of the line. His voice was smooth and unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world.
"How is Dave?" Max said.
"He's alive if that's what you're asking. Listen, I hear you're a genius. Let's see how smart you are. I'm going to give you a clue, and it's up to you to figure out where your friend is. If you do, he lives. If you fail, he dies."
"You're going to pay for this, Santoni."
"You have a choice, Holt. You play along or I disconnect our call and you will never find your friend. What's it going to be?"
"What's the clue?"
"Clue number one: Where do dead things go?"
"A funeral home? A morgue?"
Santoni chuckled. "Why are you asking me? I already know the answer. It's up to you to figure it out. Good luck, Max." The line went dead.
Max slammed the ball of his hand against the steering wheel. "Dammit!"
"I heard," Muffin said.
"Dave could be lying in a graveyard," Max said. "How many are there in this damn town?"
"I don't think so," Muffin said. "Did you not listen to the question? Santoni specifically asked where dead things go. Things, not people."
"What things?" Max demanded.
"I don't know; I'm trying to figure it out."
"Oh, shit, I just thought of something."
"What?"
"Jamie could be in danger!"
* * * * *
It wasn't until she'd lathered herself from head to toe that Jamie realized she'd forgotten to bring in her cell phone. Oh, crap. She quickly rinsed, wrapped a towel around her, and hurried into the living room for her purse. The phone wasn't there. Where had she left it? She began to search. Had she left the thing in the truck?
She dressed in record time. The telephone rang in the kitchen and Jamie raced for it. Max was on the other end.
"Jamie, get out of the house!"
Her heart lurched. "What? What's wrong? Have you got Dave?"
"No, I'm on my way. Listen, the global positioning system on my phone works. Santoni knows where I was when I received both calls. You have to leave immediately."
"But—"
"Find a safe place where you'll be surrounded by people. Wal-Mart. Just get the hell out and turn on your damn cell phone for once," he added.
Jamie slammed down the phone. "Come on, Fleas!" she cried. "Let's go." She reached for her purse and fumbled through it for Dave's keys. They weren't there. She checked the counter. Holy crap, they were nowhere to be found. She upended her purse on the kitchen table and raked through the mess, her hands shaking so badly they were almost of no use. Oh, if only she would take five minutes out of her life to straighten her purse. She stuffed everything back in.
Where could she have left them? She looked beneath a stack of newspapers, behind an artificial plant. She stepped on Fleas's paw, and he let out a yelp.
"I'm sorry!" she cried. "Where did I put the damn keys? Where is my cell phone?" The dog took a step back as though he feared he'd done something wrong. "I'm sorry, boy," she said, patting his bony head. "I'm not mad at you, I'm just losing my mind." She checked her bedroom and came out empty-handed. "I don't believe this," she said, feeling as though she had literally lost her mind.
OK, think, she told herself. Maybe she'd accidentally left them in Dave's truck. Or maybe they'd fallen out of her purse on the way in. Anything was possible in her current state of mind.
She raced to the door and jerked it open. Michael Juliano was standing on the other side.
* * * * *
Max pulled into the parking lot of a convenience store. He punched several buttons on his phone.
"Why are we stopping?" Muffin asked.
"I have to disable the GPS on this phone. I don't want Santoni looking over my shoulder. Besides, I don't know which way to go," he said. "I don't want to end up driving away from Dave. I have to think."
"OK, back to dead things," Muffin said. "It could mean anything. We automatically think it's the end of a life. Dead people, dead animals."
"It could be an inanimate object," Max said.
"Something that is of no use anymore. A dead cigarette butt, for example. Or old newspapers or trash. Dave could be lying in a landfill or recycling area."
"There's a landfill on the edge of town, also has bins for recyclables on the premises," Muffin said. "I can get you the address, but I can't give you directions because, well, because I'm not equipped for it in this rust bucket."
"I'll check inside." Max got out of the truck and hurried into the convenience store.
"I got the directions," Max said when he returned, "but I have a funny feeling about this. Know what I think?"
"It's too easy. You're being set up."
"Right. I drive up to the landfill, it's dark and probably deserted, and Santoni or one of his thugs will be waiting for me. I'm a perfect target. That's not where Dave is being held."
"Where then?"
"I want you to check all listings under Marconi. Maybe something is in his name."
"I've already done that, remember? All I found was a few bars in Knoxville."
"OK, try the other guy's name. Bennetti," he added. "He may have disappeared, but it wouldn't surprise me if Santoni was using his name. He seems to do that a lot."
"OK, checking," Muffin said. She was back in a matter of seconds. "Uh-oh. You're not going to like it."
"Tell me anyway."
"I typed in the name Bennetti, but nothing came up. Then I typed in the first three letters of Bennetti's name and it pulled up several Bennetts. I acted on a hunch—"
"Computers don't have hunches, Muffin, remember?"
"And I did a crosscheck on Bennett's home number. Not only did I get the number for the landfill, I got several business numbers, including the number for a place called Last Chance Auto Salvage and—"
Max went perfectly still. "Bennett Electric."
"Right. Tom Bennett owns all three. Peter Thomas Bennetti is Tom Bennett, your current employer."
Max sat there for a moment, his jaw working. "That means Santoni knew Dave and I were planning to tap into Rawlins's phone line because Bennett would have told him. Santoni also knew exactly when we tapped into his phone line.
"Santoni has been playing me all along. He put everything into motion before I left Beaumont. He even had time to falsify records so that it looked like Tom Bennett was ripe for acquisition." Max stared out the window. "Jesus Christ, I'm not believing this. How did he move so quickly? How could he have set me up in that length of time?"
"He's good, Max. Damn good."
"I don't get it," Max said. "Why didn't someone just kill Dave and me while we were out there tapping into Santoni's line? Instead, they waited."
"I'm stumped, Max. Santoni is playing a game, and he's not letting anyone in on the rules."
Max sighed. "Damn, I'm going to have to go back in that store and ask for directions."
"It's called Last Chance Auto Salvage," Muffin said as though reading his mind.
Max opened the car door, then paused. "If you think about it, a car that no longer works is as good as dead."
"Max, you don't want to know what I'm thinking. If Last Chance Auto Salvage has a crusher—"
"It's the perfect way to dispose of a body," Max said.
* * * * *
Jam
ie blinked at the man who called himself Michael Juliano. It was as though a veil had been lifted from her eyes. She had been looking for a mobster, a thug, but Nick Santoni had come in a handsome package and was as polished and persuasive as a politician.
He held up her wallet. "It must've fallen from your purse. I tried to follow you, but I got lost on these damn mountain roads. I was about to give up before I spotted this road. I took a chance and drove down despite all the No Trespassing signs. Good thing I did, because I spotted that truck immediately."
Jamie took the wallet but didn't say anything. How had he managed to slip it from her purse without her noticing?
"Are you OK?" he asked. "You look upset." He frowned. "You're not having trouble with your husband, are you?"
Jamie made a split-second decision to play along. "It's a long story, Michael. Listen, I was just on my way out." But he already knew that, she reminded herself. He would suspect that Max had called and told her to get out. The only thing he didn't seem to know at the minute was that she did know his true identity.
"At this hour?" He looked surprised.
"Yes. I need to go to the, um, store. For coffee," she added quickly. "I can't stand to wake up and not have coffee in the house." She realized she was talking too fast, probably not making any sense.
"Why don't I take you? I don't like the idea of your driving on these roads at night, and it's foggy out."
"No, no, I'll be fine," she said, hurrying toward Dave's truck. She noticed the fog. It had come in quickly. "Besides, I might be a while. Sometimes when I can't sleep I drive to Wal-Mart and just spend hours looking around, you know?" She opened the door to the truck. "I seem to have misplaced the keys." She looked, but there was no sight of the keys or her cell phone. She checked the ground.
"What do they look like?" Michael asked.
"They're attached to a leather strip." It suddenly hit her. He hadn't slipped her wallet from her purse. He had taken her wallet, her cell phone, and the keys to Bennett's truck. He had come into the cabin while she was showering. She had not heard the buzzer because of the loud washing machine and because she had been in the bathroom with the water running.
And because she'd been so anxious she had been talking to Fleas nonstop as she had bathed. Or maybe Nick had somehow disabled the alarm.