He was headed down the driveway toward the highway. She slipped out into the night and tried to stay hidden in the trees, following him the best she could. Was it Marc? Or Carl? She still couldn’t tell.
So when the strong arms grabbed her from behind, she was completely unprepared and let out a shriek before the hand slapped down hard over her mouth.
“Hush,” Marc growled in her ear. “It’s me.”
Her heart stopped and then started up again. She sighed, relaxing in his arms. It was just Marc. Everything was okay.
She tried to rouse her own sense of jeopardy. After all, what made her think Marc was a good guy? Still, his arms felt right around her and she turned her head to feel the heat of his face against her cool cheek as though she’d been waiting for just that.
“Torie, I’m not going to hurt you,” he told her huskily, and she nodded.
“I know,” she whispered back, even though she really had no reason to know that at all. She couldn’t stop shivering and he held her more tightly against his body as though to calm her.
For just a moment, he indulged himself and turned his face into her hair. She smelled good and she felt even better. He didn’t want to let go. He wanted to hold her and run his hands up under her sweatshirt and...
But he wasn’t going to. Too tempting. Too stupid. Too dangerous. And most of all, a big distraction from what he had to do.
Instead, he slowly released her and she turned to face him.
“Hi,” she said, peering at him in the dark. The features of his face looked as though they’d been cut from stone. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you, I guess,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm.
She frowned. “Who was that man?” she asked him. “I couldn’t get a good look at him.”
His mouth twisted. “Don’t you know?”
“No! Was it Carl?”
“Weren’t you meeting him out here?”
“Marc!” She threw up her hands in exasperation. “No, I wasn’t meeting him. I wasn’t meeting anyone. I’m actually surprised to find so many people out wandering around in the middle of the night.” She glanced suspiciously into the trees. “I wonder who else is out there.”
Marc glanced in the same direction. “There’s no telling, but I wouldn’t be too surprised to find a Texan, doing placer samplings here and there.”
She smirked at him with impetuous impertinence. “Are you watching him, too?”
He surprised her with a sudden grin. “No. The man’s an open book. I don’t have to.”
“Unlike me and Carl,” she said, eyes flashing a sense of barely concealed resentment.
He didn’t bother confirming her accusation, but it was more than true. He’d been following Carl when he’d come across Torie doing the same and he had to make the call—the lady or the tiger? He could only choose one. He’d gone with the one he would rather be with, and that had probably been a mistake.
See? Too tempting. Too dangerous.
Still, he might be able to get information out of her he would never get out of Carl. From what he could tell, there was little rhyme or reason for the way Carl was zigzagging all over the estate, looking for who-knew-what. What he couldn’t figure out was—why was Torie tailing the guy as well?
“Just what is Carl looking for?” he asked her again.
She shrugged. “You got me.”
He frowned. “You’re the one who brought him here.”
“No. I used him to get here, but that’s as far as it goes.”
He studied her as well as he could in the darkness. Basic instinct told him she was telling the truth. What the hell—he was going to take a chance on that instinct. It usually worked out best when he did, despite his natural inclination to want to see proof for everything.
“I wish I could figure the guy out,” he told her. “I saw him leave the house and then I checked your room and you weren’t there, so I took off after him.”
“Where did he go?”
“Nowhere that made any sense.”
She frowned. “So you thought you’d follow me for a while to see where I was going?”
“Why not?”
She groaned. “This is crazy. We’re all running around in the middle of the night following each other. It’s like a Keystone Kops episode. Going in circles, getting nowhere.”
“I’m not getting nowhere.” He gave her a twisted smile and reached for her hand. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere.” His hand curled around hers as though he didn’t trust that she would come along if he didn’t force the issue. “Back into the house. I want to see what you were doing in there.”
“No.” She pulled back, obliging him to turn. “You know what? It’s none of your business what I was doing in there. You can’t stop me.”
She knew she sounded childish. She felt childish. Maybe that all went along with her being in her childhood home. At any rate, it annoyed Marc enough that he yanked on her hand, pulling her in close and glaring down into her eyes.
“While you are here, you are my business. I thought we’d already established that. But in case you’re still not convinced, let me say it again. I can kick you off the estate and send you home any time I want to. And I don’t have to ask Marge first.” He gave her that twisted smile again. “So be nice to me.”
“I’m always nice,” she protested, but her breath was coming faster.
“Prove it.” His voice lowered huskily. “Tell me why you’re out here in the dark, dark night. Tell me what you hope to achieve.”
She drew in a sharp breath. He was obviously stronger than she was and he could force her to go along with him if he wanted to. But he didn’t need to force her. She could probably use his help. So she traded in complete rebellion for the chance to be a smart aleck instead.
“Wisdom,” she said crisply. “Revenge. Closure. Truth.”
He looked at her for a long moment and then he grimaced and his shoulders seemed to relax.
“That’s a tall order,” he said, his voice lighter. “Life doesn’t usually give out free passes. I’m afraid you’re probably going to have to work very hard for all those things, and never actually be satisfied with the results.”
She closed her eyes, but a complete and detailed picture of him stayed in her mind. He had it all—looks, strength, a natural honesty that might be a façade, but was still impressive as hell. She wanted to trust him. Could she take that leap? She stared down at the hand that held hers and pondered that question.
Her first impulse was to keep it all to herself, not to let him in. But she didn’t have time to wait this out. The only way she was going to get into the attic was if someone helped her. The only someone she could even halfway trust right now was Marc. Could she take the risk? What choice did she have? Besides, he was going to see the ladder and make his own assessment.
Should she go ahead and tell him? Why not? What did she have to gain by avoiding it? She made the decision and suddenly, she felt calm inside.
“Okay. Here goes.” She raised her face to him again. “I’ll tell you what I was doing.