Page 15

Another loud thump on the wall disturbed Clay’s reading.

Stretched full length on his bed, shirt tugged free and unbuttoned but still wearing his slacks in case he decided to go out, Clay set his book, Turow’s Presumed Innocent, aside.

He’d read the same page three times.

What the hell was Ellie doing in there? She and Flex had gone out to dinner.

He’d seen them leaving with Jake.

Maybe Ellie and Flex were enjoying another “accident.”

Or maybe this round was with Gerry Winslow.

The thought infuriated him.

The thump sounded again, obviously the bed moving against the wall.

Clay ground his teeth.

Swinging his legs to the floor, he walked to the dresser, poured himself a shot of the Glenfiddish he always carried, and downed it in a single gulp.

A noise that sounded like a sob bled through the walls, followed by another muffled thud.

Clay’s pulse began to speed.

What if it wasn’t Flex? Rotterdam was a big city.

Ellie was a pretty girl staying alone.

He strained to hear the next noise and could have sworn it was the sound of rending fabric.

Clay slammed the glass down on the dresser and headed for the door.

He was making a fool of himself—he knew it.

Ellie had a way of doing that to him. Still…

He paused in the doorway.

Damn her, if she was in bed with Flex or Gerry, he’d strangle them both! The sound of breaking glass brushed those thoughts aside.

Clay bolted for the door to Ellie’s room next to his.

He tried the knob, found it locked, and called her name.

Ellie didn’t answer.

He could hear odd noises and soft music playing in the background.

He’d be sorry for this, but he’d be sorrier if she was in trouble, and he didn’t help.

Raising a boot, he kicked the flimsy latch, and the door swung wide, the knob crashing against the wall behind it.

Ellie sprawled on the bed, naked from the waist up, her lacy chemise in tatters, her skirt hiked up, her eyes wet green pools.

Nestled between her trembling legs, a man dressed in black fought to free his erection from his pants.

A trickle of blood ran from the corner of Ellie’s mouth, and a bruise darkened her cheek.

Clay’s control snapped.

Growling low in his throat, he reached the man in two angry strides, tore him off Ellie, and smashed a fist into his face.

The glint of a knife flashed.

Clay kicked the blade away and punched him again. The man swung a powerful right hand. Clay ducked and swung, sending the man crashing into the corner on top of an overturned chair.

In two quick strides, Clay reached him, grabbed the front of his shirt, dragged him up and punched him, breaking his nose and sending a spray of blood against the wall and across the front of Clay’s white shirt.

The man groaned as Clay hauled him to his feet and hit him again, slamming his head against the floor with a thud that had Ellie gasping in horror.

The assailant struggled to his feet, bent low and charged into Clay’s midsection, knocking him to the floor.

Clay’s head the wall with a thud, and the assailant dashed out through the broken door.

With a groan, Clay staggered to his feet.

Shaking his head to clear it, he ran after the intruder, down the hall, out the exit door, and around the corner of the building.

A scan of the parking lot and the field beyond revealed no sign of him.

“Damn!”

Fist clenched in frustration, Clay hurried back to Ellie.

He found her huddled on the bed against the wall, her arms covering her breasts, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Clay sat down on the bed and eased her into his arms.

“You’re all right, love.”

With a sob, she turned and started crying against his shoulder, deep racking sounds that tore at his heart.

“Everything’s all right,”

he whispered, stroking her tangled hair.

“You’re safe now.”

“That man….

He tried to… He tried…”

“I know.

Hush now, it’s over.”

Ellie looked up at him.

“Oh, Clay…”

She hung onto him even tighter.

She’d just begun to gentle when Flex burst into the room.

“What the hell…?”

“Ellie had an unwanted visitor.”

Glancing down, Clay remembered her nakedness and pulled the thin chintz bedspread over her shoulders, covering her from Flex’s prying eyes.

Ellie just clung to him.

She didn’t look at Flex or say a word.

“Call the police,”

Clay said.

Ellie bolted upright.

Clay grabbed the bedspread to keep it from falling off.

“No! No, Clay, please.”

Her green eyes looked huge.

“No police.

I can’t go through that, I can’t.

I have to ride. I have to win. Please…please don’t call them.”

Flex knelt in front of her.

“Ellie, surely you don’t want us to let this man get away.

He might do the same thing to someone else.”

He mouthed the word rape to Clay, who shook his head.

“Thank God I got here in time.”

“I went out to get some ice,”

Flex said.

“I spotted the broken latch.

Scared the hell out of me.

Looks like she’s still pretty shook up. Maybe we should call a doctor or something.”

“No, please…”

Ellie hung onto Clay’s neck as if he were saving her life.

“I’m all right.

I just need to…to pull myself together.

I’ll be…be fine.”

But she didn’t look fine, and both Flex and Clay knew it.

She looked so pale her skin appeared translucent, her eyes so huge they dominated her oval face.

“Let’s get you out of those torn clothes and into bed.”

Clay helped her up, the spread still wrapped around her, while Flex rummaged through the dresser drawers and came up with a short, lace-trimmed, pink nylon nightgown, a little too sheer to suit Clay.

“Can you get undressed?”

Clay asked.

Ellie nodded but didn’t move.

“Get her a glass of water,”

Clay said.

“I’ll help her put on the nightgown.”

“Oh, no you don’t.

Ellie would kill me.”

Clay looked at Ellie and sighed.

“I guess you’re right.

You’ve seen more of her than I have.”

He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Flex opened his mouth, then glanced at Ellie.

“We’ll both do it.”

Mechanically, they stripped away what remained of her ripped and tattered skirt.

She sat beside them in a pair of white bikini panties.

“Damn, what a body,”

Flex said softly as they pulled her nightgown over her head.

Clay gritted his teeth but didn’t say a word.

Ellie just stared straight ahead, shivering every few seconds.

“I still think we should call a doctor,”

Flex said.

“So do I.”

“No! I’m…I’m fine.

Really I am.”

Clay laid a wet cloth against her split lip and bruised cheek while Flex poured her a glass of water.

“There’s some scotch on the dresser in my room.”

Flex returned, glass of scotch in hand, to find Ellie tucked securely between the sheets, her head propped up with pillows.

“Drink this,”

Clay ordered, handing her the glass. “Slowly.”

Still holding Clay’s hand, she sipped the scotch and grimaced.

“I’m sorry to cause so much trouble.”

“Believe me, love.

You’re no trouble at all.”

“What if….”

She nervously licked her lips.

“What if he comes back?”

“If he comes back,”

Clay said, suddenly angry again, “he’ll get another dose of what he got before.”

Unconsciously he flexed his knuckles, surprised to find them skinned and bleeding.

“I’m not leaving, so you don’t have to worry.”

“Me, either,”

Flex agreed, and Clay scowled.

Flex just grinned.

“I’ll take the floor.

You can have the other half of the bed. But you’d better behave yourself.”

“Even I’m not that big a bastard.”

Flex grinned even wider.

“Get some sleep, Ellie.

You’ll feel better in the morning.

Tomorrow we’ll decide what to do.”

Flex left them long enough to return to his room for a blanket and pillows then made himself a pallet on the floor.

Fully clothed, lying on top of the covers, Clay stretched out full-length beside Ellie.

He smoothed her hair away from her cheeks, and she finally drifted to sleep.

Sometime later, he drew a blanket he’d found in the closet over himself and closed his eyes.

Flex’s gentle snoring was the last thing he remembered.

At three-thirty in the morning, Clay awoke from what started as a nightmare about Ellie being raped and ended with him saving her and Ellie being a willing partner.

It left him edgy and hard.

Ellie lay curled against him, her thick mahogany hair falling across his arm.

He hoped she couldn’t feel his arousal.

After the attack, he didn’t want her to discover her shepherd was really a wolf in disguise.

When he smoothed her hair, she turned to face him, and he realized she wasn’t asleep.

“Hi,”

she said, easing away from him.

She flushed a little, as if sleeping curled against him was something she shouldn’t be doing.

“How long have you been awake?” he asked.

“A while.

I couldn’t sleep.”

“Feeling any better?”

“I’ll be all right.

I just never expected….

I’ve never been around people like that.

I guess I’ve been pretty sheltered all my life.”

“I’ve been sheltered, but I know lots of rotten people.”

“Rapists?”

she asked, incredulous.

“Maybe not the same kind, but certainly men and women who rape and plunder what others treasure.

Crooked businessmen, scheming executives.

They aren’t much different from the man who attacked you.”

“Why do you think he picked me?”

“Probably been watching several hotels, looking for a woman alone.”

When Ellie shuddered, Clay pulled her into the circle of his arms.

“Go back to sleep.

You need your beauty rest.”

Ellie lay quiet for a while.

She could feel Clay’s even breathing, his heart beating softly.

He smelled… masculine was the word that came to mind.

The evening had been a nightmare of violence and terror, yet she lay next to Clay, feeling safe and protected, as if she were exactly where she belonged.

She’d been awake an hour, pretending to be asleep because it felt so good to lie beside him.

What was there about him she found so attractive?

She had always considered herself a good judge of people.

She didn’t see Clay the way others did, and yet she was surely wrong.

The other riders knew him far better than she did.

“You aren’t sleeping,”

said Clay’s deep voice.

“I can’t.

I think I’ll get dressed and go downstairs, maybe find a café that’s open.”

“Are you sure you’re up to it?”

“I need to get out of here for a while.”

“Fine, I’ll go with you.”

Ellie shook her head.

“I’ve been too much trouble already.

I won’t go far.”

“I’ve got a better idea.”

Clay helped her sit up.

His blanket fell away, and she noticed his shirt was open.

There was a spatter of blood on the shirt that belonged to the man who’d attacked her, but she was more interested in the vee of dark hair curling over bands of muscle on his chest.

“I’m not sleepy either,”

he said.

“I’ve got a rental car in the hotel garage.

I know a place you might find interesting.”

Clay stood up, flexing the ridges across his flat stomach.

How many times had she said no to him when she’d wanted to say yes?

“A drive sounds good.”

Padding barefoot toward the bathroom, she realized was wearing her pink nightgown instead of her shredded clothes.

A flush rose in her cheeks.

“Did you…?”

“Don’t worry.

Flex kept me honest.”

Ellie glanced to where her friend snored softly on the floor.

“You mean you both…? Oh, God.”

Hurriedly, she pulled the bathroom door closed behind her.

Hearing Clay’s deep chuckle, it dawned on her that he thought she and Flex knew each other intimately.

Good grief, how had things gotten so out of control?

It would all work out somehow, she told herself.

She was going to spend some time with Clayton Whitfield.

She shouldn’t go, but she was.

And she didn’t give a damn what anyone else had to say.