The Bride And The Mercenary. Harper Allen
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in there!”
For some reason she knew the stranger wouldn’t hurt her if he did appear. He’d definitely been odd, but there’d been nothing threatening in his oddness. Again she saw the flash of anguish she’d seen in those green eyes that had been too much like Malone’s. The memory was so clear that again her heart leaped crazily.
“Malone!”
“Stop shouting! Dammit, lady, you’re going to lead them right to me!”
The hoarse warning came from directly behind her. Whirling around in shock, Ainslie stared at the big man in the army greatcoat standing only inches away.
The bottom fell out of her world.
Dark hair fell to his shoulders, and most of his face was obscured by a heavy growth of beard. His skin bore the weathered tan of someone who spent most of his time in the elements, and there was a smear of black grease high on each cheekbone. But through the tangle of hair that fell over his forehead she could see those eyes.
She tried to take a step toward him, but her limbs wouldn’t work. “Malone—it really is you!”
This time when the hot tears streamed down her face she made no attempt to wipe them away.
“They told me you were dead, Malone! They told me you were dead, and I didn’t believe them, but when you didn’t come back to me I thought I’d lost you forever!”
The words tumbled out of her almost incoherently, and the ice that had surrounded her finally broke. With a little cry of incredulous happiness she rushed to him, wanting only to feel his arms around her, his heartbeat close to hers.
Swiftly he stepped back out of her reach. His eyes narrowed and his whole body seemed to suddenly tense.
In confusion, Ainslie met his gaze, and as she did, the wild joy that had been flooding through her instantly turned to sharp fear.
He was looking at her with no recognition at all. Those green eyes were blank and shuttered.
“Malone?” she breathed tremulously. “Malone, what’s the matter?”
“My name’s not Malone, lady.” His answer was unequivocally antagonistic. “And I’ve never seen you before in my life.”
Chapter Three
Ainslie stared at the man in front of her.
For a long moment his eyes, narrowed in suspicion, remained locked on hers. Then his shoulders stiffened under the tattered coat and he darted a quick glance down the alleyway before turning back to her.
“Did you lead them here?” His question was more of an accusation. It was so unexpected that she was jolted into a reply.
“Of course not.” She caught herself. “Lead who here?”
“Them,” he said impatiently, as if she were being deliberately obtuse. He looked down at the other end of the alleyway and then seemed to come to a decision. “Maybe you didn’t, but they’re coming anyway. They must have seen you. We’d better get going.”
He moved quickly for such a big man. Before she realized his intention, his hand had wrapped around hers and he was pulling her toward the door to the abandoned hotel, and at that, her numbness dissipated.
“No.” She tried to disengage her hand, but his grip was too strong.
It was true, then, she thought with dull clarity. He wasn’t Malone, despite the shock of recognition she’d felt when she’d first seen him, despite her certainty of a few minutes ago. He was exactly what he appeared to be: a derelict, a man of the streets with more than a few problems of his own, although of the two of them, she wasn’t sure who was the crazier. Suddenly the full import of what she’d done slammed into her.
What had she been thinking?
If she hurried, she could be back at St. Margaret’s before Sully told the assembled guests the bride had gone AWOL.
She tugged at her hand again. “No,” she said gently. “Whoever they are, they’re not after me. I should get back to my own world now.”
She didn’t know why she’d phrased it like that, only that it seemed right. She looked up into the tanned, heavily bearded face, seeing him for the first time as the man he was, not as the man she’d so desperately and illogically wanted him to be. A pang of sadness stirred in her. She’d been right about one thing. The expression she’d thought she’d seen in those eyes was anguish. He was looking at her as if the very sight of her caused him immeasurable pain, and maybe it did. Maybe she reminded him of someone, too—a woman he’d known, a girl he’d loved, the life he’d lived before everything had spiralled out of control for him.
“I’ll decoy them away from you.” She kept her voice soft. “A bride on a motorcycle would be enough to distract anyone, and that’ll give you a chance to get to safety.”
Her attempt at reassurance didn’t have the effect she’d intended.
“No!”
The explosiveness of his answer was shockingly loud in the quiet alleyway, his voice amplified by the narrow brick walls of the buildings. Ainslie felt a twinge of nervousness, but almost immediately she realized that her unease wasn’t a result of his unexpected reaction.
The alleyway was quiet. They were in the middle of a busy city—surely it wasn’t natural not to hear any signs of life. Now that she thought about it, she realized she hadn’t seen so much as a stray cat since she’d driven in here.
She gave herself a mental shake. The man’s fear was contagious. This time when she tried to pull away from him, she put more force into it.
Still he wouldn’t let go.
“It’s too late. They have to know you’re with me, and they won’t allow you to leave now. Come on. Maybe if we hide, they’ll keep on going.”
He was more than just troubled. He was paranoid. Whoever they were, he’d credited them with almost supernatural powers. Now her uneasiness was because of him.
Don’t upset him any more than he is already, for God’s sake, she told herself sharply. Keep everything calm and low key, and just walk out of here.
“Even if they do come after me, they can’t catch me on that.” She nodded at Bobby’s motorcycle, garishly yellow against the crumbling wall. “It’ll be better if we split up and—”
“Dammit, they’ll kill you!” For a moment reality faded again. He even sounded like Malone, Ainslie thought faintly—except Malone had never spoken to her with such fearful urgency. “Don’t you get it? These people are ruthless, Lee! We can’t let them find us!”
Jerking her roughly toward the door, he shoved her inside and then pulled it shut. Ainslie heard him fumbling in the dark for something, and then the blackness was suddenly illuminated by the beam of a flashlight.
“Up those stairs,” he whispered hoarsely. “Hurry!”
She didn’t move. “What did you just call me?” Her voice sounded strange to her own ears. He looked impatiently at her, his beard and the tangle of hair falling across his eyes shadowing his face.
“I said take the stairs. Come on, we have to get to the third floor!”
“You called me Lee. How did you know my name?”
“Dammit, we’re wasting time! They’re coming for us!”
Grabbing her roughly by the arm again, he started up the stairs. The faint beam of the flashlight bobbing eerily ahead of them, Ainslie found herself stumbling up the first few steps. She felt her shoe catch on the trailing hem of her gown and heard it rip slightly before she could release it.
“Watch the fifth step. It’s loose.” Frowning, he looked over his shoulder at her, not slowing his pace or loosening his grip. “What the hell