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before. And survived.
She ruthlessly repressed the tears. Tears were for later, when she was alone.
She d always shed her tears alone. She knew how to do this.
 Okay, she said calmly. Her face was smooth, bland. Bud couldn t see her
racing heart and sick, churning stomach. She could play this game. She always
had.  Let s talk.
He watched her eyes for a moment then nodded, as if coming to some secret
conclusion.
 I love you, Claire, he said quietly.
Her jaw dropped.
Noises rang in her head, the muffled clangings of shock. It took her a second
to realize that the far off noise wasn t jangled neurons in her brain, but the front
doorbell ringing incessantly, interspersed with a fist pounding on the front door.
She turned her head toward the living room, frowning.  Who could that be? she
mused.  Nobody knows I live here& 
She turned back and watched Bud disappear completely from sight. Her
sexy teasing lover with the hot golden eyes had vanished into thin air, and
another man had taken his place a being as cold and inhuman as a cyborg. A
frightening, feral stranger with a blank expression and flat yellow eyes. Warriors
on a battlefield would look like that.
He pushed down on her shoulder with one big hand.  Stay here, he
whispered.  Don t move.
In one swift, silent movement, he rolled out of bed and pulled on his sweat
pants. He reached into the carryall with his toiletry items and spare clothes and,
to her shock, his hand came away with a gun. A big black gun that he carried as
if it were an extension of his hand. He did something to the side of the gun. It
snicked and she realized from reading a million thrillers he d turned the safety
off.
This man this immensely large and powerful man with the frighteningly
cold and dangerous eyes was now armed and moving swiftly toward the front
door.
She stared after him, open-mouthed, frozen with shock. She could see him at
the door, standing to one side, gun held up beside his ear. The bell rang again, a
fist pounded and she heard a faint, tremulous voice calling.  Claire! Claire, open
up! I know you re in there!
Dear sweet God, her father! He d come back from Paris early.
Claire scrambled out of bed, pulling on her nightgown. She ran into the
living room, screaming.  Bud! Bud, don t shoot! It s my& !
She was too late. He d peeked through the peephole, dropping his gun hand
so it was aligned with his leg. He pulled the door open and her father half-fell in.
Bud
steadied him with his free hand.
 Mr. Parks! Bud growled, astonished.
 Lieutenant Morrison! her father gasped.
 Daddy! Claire cried.
Bud turned to her, frowning.  Daddy?
She stared back at him.  Lieutenant?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
December 14th Parks Mansion
So she really was a Princess, after all, Bud thought glumly that evening, over
dinner in the Parks mansion.
Oh, not a real Princess, with a crown and a country, but close enough. The
Parks family was the next best thing to royalty. At least in Oregon. There was a
Parks Foundation, a Parks Museum of Modern Art, an Elisa Parks Memorial
Wing of Pediatric Medicine at the St. Jude hospital and a Parks Medieval Music
Festival in the summer.
Parks money kept the PPDHQ computer system state of the art because
after Bud had rescued Claire, Old Man Parks had made it clear to the Parks
Foundation that what the police wanted, they got. It was a standing joke on the
13th floor that Bud was the Golden Boy who could goose the Parks Foundation
to lay a lot of golden eggs.
So that heartbreaking, terrified bald little bag of bones he d picked up from
the filthy floor of Rory Gavett s van was his Claire? No wonder he hadn t
recognized her at The Warehouse.
Though she d been what? fifteen? at the time, she must have weighed less
than 70 pounds, had lost all her hair, and had been blindfolded, gagged and
bound. He remembered clearly cutting through the duct tape around her mouth,
wrists and ankles and lifting her out. It had been hard for him to move because
the pain of the bullet he d taken was starting to push through the shock and he
was losing a lot of blood. But the little girl he d have put her at seven or eight
not fifteen weighed next to nothing and he d carried her easily.
He remembered big blue eyes, wide with shock, and trembling so fearsomely
he d been afraid she d break her fragile bones. No, there was no way he could
have recognized the slender-yet-sexy woman Claire had become.
No wonder she hadn t recognized him, either. The last time she d seen him
she d been clinging terrified to his shoulders, face buried in his neck. He d been
in uniform then, a young patrolman who d happened to catch the APB for a blue
 87 Chevy van, with a kidnapped little girl inside. People always remember the
uniform, not the man inside, anyway.
Plus he d been covered head to toe in mud and blood. He d called it in and
held her until the cavalry arrived, in the form of two units who d been patrolling
nearby and the EMTs. Bud had managed to stay conscious until he could hand
the little girl over to the medics, then he d collapsed from blood loss, gaining
consciousness only three days
later. By that time, Claire was far away. Old Man Parks had had Claire flown to a
clinic in Switzerland, which offered superb medical care and 24 hour a day
armed guards.
Who could have guessed that he d been fucking Claire Parks these past two [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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