Escape Out of Darkness (Maggie Bennett 1)

He was looking at her with undisguised fascination. “She’s really your mother?”

“She’s really my mother. Come to think of it, you’re probably too old for her. She’d been heading down toward the early thirties last time I met one of her lovers.”

“You don’t approve?”

Maggie smiled at him. “Pulaski, I do my absolute level best not to pass judgment on other people. Particularly on people I love. My mother has a certain weakness for men, and sometimes it does her more harm than good, but most of the time she just enjoys herself. And more power to her.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you have a weakness for men? Do you enjoy yourself?”

“No to the first question, yes to the second. I try very hard to have no weaknesses whatsoever.” Her voice was self-mocking.

“And do you succeed?”

“No.”

Mack looked at her, and in the dimly lit motel bedroom she could see the crinkles around his eyes as he smiled at her. “You’re only human after all. And here I thought I was being protected by Superwoman.”

“Only human, Pulaski,” she agreed, sliding her long bare legs across the bed toward him. She crossed the space between the two beds, and the ancient springs sagged beneath her weight as she reached him. “And don’t call me paranoid,” she said in a husky murmur, “but someone is outside our window.”

This time it didn’t even faze him. He smiled up at her. “You wanna convince them that we’re really lovers?”

“No, but maybe you’d better kiss me while I figure out what we’re going to do.”

“Well, if you insist,” he said in a deliberately reluctant voice. “But I’d really rather save myself for your mother.” And before she had a chance to reply his arm slid around her and pulled her down against the wiry strength of him, and he was kissing her with far too much enthusiasm for her peace of mind. Not to mention her ability to concentrate on how they were going to get out of the motel.

For a moment she wished she could just lie back on the sagging bed and enjoy it. He kissed well, and his arms were relaxed, strong, and knowing around her, his hands sensuously molding her to him. His hands were on her rear, his tongue was in her mouth, and he was kissing her with a cheerful abandon that seemed to suggest he’d forgotten all about any enemies skulking around outside their window. And then his mouth moved away from hers, trailing a warm, wet path to her earlobe, and his raspy voice was in her ear.

“Got any ideas?”

She had a great many ideas, most of them involved with the hard, male body she found herself wrapped around. But common sense reared its ugly head, and she forced herself to withdraw from the temptation of warm male flesh. “Turn off the lights.” She said it aloud, in a convincing imitation of a sensual growl, and Mack’s answering rumble of laughter helped douse the burning coals of passion that had built up against her will.

“Sure thing, babe,” he said in a husky murmur pitched to reach the silent watcher outside their window. “But I’d rather be able to see you. You didn’t used to be so shy.” Without letting go of her, he reached across, turning off the low-wattage light bulb that the Lone Star Bide-a-Wee Motel thought would suffice for reading. Then they were alone, with only the quiet murmur of Sybil Bennett’s cultured British tones warring with the sound of their mingled breathing and the flickering light from the television providing eerie illumination to the drab motel room.

“What next?” he mouthed silently against her ear. His body was still half on top of hers, but he held himself very still, doing nothing to increase the pressure of his hips against hers.

“Stay where you are.” She slid from underneath him, off the bed with a fluid, silent grace, moving through the dimly lit motel room like a ghost, keeping well away from the windows. She edged over to the outside wall, pressed her back against the stained and scarred paneling, and moved her head a fraction of an inch, just far enough to get a tiny glimpse out into the scrubby bushes that lined the front of the motel.

“What are you doing?” Mack pitched his voice perfectly—it reached her on the breath of a sigh, going no farther than her ears. And then he raised it a few decibels. “Damn it, Maggie, are you laughing?”

She couldn’t hold it back any longer. The amusement rippled out of her, a rich full laugh as she staggered back to her own bed. Only for a moment she considered rejoining him on his bed, considered and then wisely rejected the notion. She flopped down on her bed, still laughing. “You can turn on the light,” she said in a normal voice. “And you can call me paranoid.”

“Don’t tell me there was no one out there. I heard them too.” He switched on the light, squinting in the sudden brightness.

“Oh, there’s someone out there, all right—three teenage boys! They’ve given up on us since we were unsporting enough to turn off the lights, and now they’re peering in the window three doors down.” She let a last chuckle fade away in a contented sigh. “I guess I have been too alarmist. I’ll be glad when we get to Houston tomorrow and you’re no longer my responsibility.”

“Been that tough on you?” he drawled, turning his attention back to the television.

For the first time Maggie felt a moment’s doubt. Surely Mack Pulaski couldn’t have hurt feelings? Surely he wanted this small odyssey to be over with as much as she did. Didn’t he? Didn’t she?

“I’d like to deliver you in one piece, Pulaski,” she said after a moment. “We can argue about it when I fix you up with my mother.”

He grinned, and she decided she’d imagined that momentary reaction. But he said nothing, turning back to the ever-present din of the TV, and Maggie lay back on the bed, stretching her long legs out and closing her eyes. She wasn’t lying when she said she’d be glad to pass him over to Peter Wallace. It had been years since her instincts had played her false. She could have sworn the men in the diner were far too interested in the two of them. She could have sworn someone had been watching them tonight, and not for the sake of vicarious thrills. When it came to a time that her reflexes were so far off, it was time for a long break. Whether she liked it or not, lives were depending on her. And she was beginning to doubt whether she could live up to the responsibility. This was still fairly new to her, this life-or-death situation. She’d managed so far, but there were no guarantees that she’d continue her lucky streak.

“Don’t worry about it, Maggie May,” Mack’s raw voice came from the other bed. “A little paranoia can come in handy sometimes.”