Bride of the Tiger by Heather Graham (best large ereader .txt) 📗

who had caused Jimmy’s downfall….

“Tara, stop it, I love you!”

Savagely, he swept her into his arms, carrying them both down hard on the bed. He was half tenderness, half fury. He wanted to touch her; he wanted to assure her. He wanted to erase the past.

“Tara!”

She stopped hitting him. Her eyes were blank. She was as pale as a sheet.

He knew an even greater terror as he watched her.

He moved to the side of the bed, kneeling beside it. He stroked her face, his heart thundering madly. A doctor, he needed a doctor.

“Tara, it’s all right. Tara! Come back to me! I won’t touch you. My God, what’s wrong?”

He drew a shaking finger down her cheek. “I love you. Talk to me. Talk to me. Tara, what’s wrong?”

Tears came into her eyes and overflowed when she saw him there. “Oh, Rafe!”

“I’m here!”

Her arms curled around his neck. He held her there, smoothing back her hair while she cried. And somehow, in whispered words, in broken words, the whole story of that last awful day came out, and what she didn’t say, he could piece together. He stiffened as she spoke, knowing that if he ever met Tine Elliott, he would want to kill the man, to tear him into fragments of spindrift to throw to the wind.

She was quiet after a while. He stretched out beside her and held her, her head against his chest, still moving his fingers through her hair with a trembling tenderness.

“I love you, Tara. I would never, never hurt you.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“My God, I’d like to kill him.” He felt the little skip and beat of her heart.

“He wouldn’t be worth it,” she whispered. And then she buried her face against his chest in such aching trust that he could hardly bear it. “He is out there, though. I know he’s out there.”

Then where is Jimmy? He almost shouted the words, but he didn’t. They’d gone too far today; she couldn’t take any more shocks.

And no matter how he loved and trusted her, there was always that last little doubt that he couldn’t ignore. If it were just him, he would. He would be a fool; he’d gladly give his life; he’d gamble on his love.

But it wasn’t just him. Jimmy was still somewhere. Either dead or alive.

Her tears were damp on his chest. Mechanically, he continued to soothe her, his thoughts meeting a blank wall. He brought her tear-streaked face to his and kissed her, and that kiss led to another, and suddenly it kindled a fire. Dirt and dishevelment didn’t mean a thing as they made love.

The room grew dark. Rafe mixed another drink; they were able to laugh at each other’s appearance, and then move into the shower together.

Rafe emerged before she did. He stood by the window and looked out as darkness began to descend in earnest on the city.

He should make her go home. He should dress, drive her to the airport, make reservations for two, and go home with her.

But he couldn’t do that. There was Jimmy to think about.

And there was Tine Elliott. Rafe had too many scores to settle with the man.

The only thing that he could do was stick with Tara. Stick tighter than glue.

And be ready.

CHAPTER 12

Tara awoke the next morning because the phone was ringing. She really didn’t want to open her eyes, and she didn’t have to at first—Rafe picked up the phone.

But when she heard him say a sleepy good-morning to George Galliard, she knew that she was going to have to take the call. Rafe handed the receiver to her expressionlessly, and she took it.

“Good morning, George.”

He called her “ma petite” and went on and on, telling her that he hadn’t called last night because he had been sure that she had been resting. Tara thought that he knew she hadn’t actually been resting, but perhaps he was being polite.

He went on and on—she didn’t really get a chance to say anything for what seemed like a full five minutes. He was terribly worried. Perhaps she should board the next plane back to the States. Was she all right? How did she feel? If she couldn’t manage the show, they could manage.

“Ah, Tara, Tara, Tara! I thought it would be good to bring you back here. I thought that nothing would happen, that you would go back to living normally—relaxed, you know. And instead, this!”

“George, I wasn’t hurt at all,” Tara said. “I’m fine. I can do the show with absolutely no difficulty.”

“But your safety, ma chérie!”

“George—what can happen to me in an entire roomful of people?”

“Perhaps it was not Tine at all. Perhaps it was a random happening.”

“Perhaps it was,” Tara agreed. She didn’t believe it—not for a second. She wished that she could. Tine Elliott was out there. God alone knew why; he hadn’t really loved her. Ever. He was probably incapable of really loving anyone.

“Still, maybe you should get on the next plane.”

That was definitely another thing she had thought about herself. Rafe had suggested it last night, quietly, when room service had delivered their dinner.

And it had been a great temptation. But it would have been wrong. What she needed to do was plan a way to trap Tine. If he wanted her—for whatever reason—he could find her. Maybe he had just been lying in wait down here, but she would never doubt that with his resources he could obtain false papers, a false identity—and come after her, wherever she went.

“I’m fine, George. The police have been alerted. I don’t want to go.”

“Bravo! We should end this thing, don’t you think?”

“Yes.”

“Then I shall see you soon. I’m sure that you are as safe as you can possibly be, with Rafe Tyler at your side.”

She didn’t glance Rafe’s way. “Yes,” she told George softly.

George repeated that he would see her soon and rang off. Rafe silently took the receiver back from Tara and set it on its cradle.

He gazed at her with arched brows, and