"That's what I said. He's ahulk wearing leather. Sound familiar?"

"No."

"Come on. We need to get out of here."

Kristen spun around, looking for a way to escape the little shop. There appeared to be no way out, not unless there was a back entrance beyond the curtain.

The front door opened and in walked the Hulk. "Oh, G.o.d." Kristen slumped against Blu and immediately started to shake. The man was very large. But that wasn't the worst of it-the Hulk had a bald head.

Salva's shaved head hadn't been all that odd. Even though he could grow plenty of thick, dark hair, his choice to shave his shiny pate daily had never prompted Kristen to ask why. But what she had always thought was odd was her husband's insistence that all the men who worked for him shave their heads, too, as well as wear the dagger tattoo in their palm. The only people on the Maland estate who were allowed to keep their hair were the women. And as she'd already told Blu, they couldn't cut an inch off without Salva's approval.

"Do you recognize him?"

Kristen focused on the man's face. "No, I don't know him," she whispered, her voice full of fear. "But he works for Salva."

"How do you know that?"

"He has a bald head." Kristen's voice broke. "They all have bald heads."

She had stepped closer to Blu-almost huddling against him-and now as she gazed up at him, she found him looking at her strangely. She knew it was a crazy thing to say, but unless you'd been on the island to see how many bald-headed men worked for her husband it was impossible to understand the magnitude of her statement.

"Come on." Blu parted the curtain and forced Kristen ahead of him into the back room. The psychic looked up, alarmed at first, but when her gaze traveled past Kristen, a smile parted her bloodred lips. "Bonjour, my sweet devil."

Blu nodded, then spoke to the woman in rapid French. Suddenly she wasn't smiling anymore, but standing quickly and ushering the man who had been seated at her table out of the room, telling him she would be back with him momentarily.

Returning, she pulled on the side of a bookcase. "Inside, quickly."

Kristen peered into the darkness, afraid to move. She heard Blu say,"Merci, Lema," before he shoved her into the small s.p.a.ce and followed. In an instant they were sandwiched together behind the bookcase in the darkness.

Kristen reached out and felt the walls on all three sides. She turned, b.u.mped into Blu's hard chest. "This is nothing more than a closet," she snapped. "We're trapped."

"Shh! Quiet."

He shifted and suddenly his entire length was pressed tightly to Kristen. She tried to step back, but there was no room to spare. She was about to insist that he get them out of there when she heard a man call out to Lema.

"Mais,yeah,m'sieu. I'll be right there."

If one of Salva's men had found her this quickly, that meant her husband had connections everywhere. Was it true, then? Could Salva s.n.a.t.c.h her back to the island in a blink of an eye? Was she foreverhis as he'd told her every day for the past three years? Would she never know who she really was, where she belonged?

Kristen started to shake. She didn't want to confront the Hulk, but she didn't want to remain in this black box, either-especially since the closet wasn't big enough for one broom-a skinny broom, at that. She'd never been claustrophobic before, but this was suddenly reminding her of a recurring nightmare she'd been having since leaving the island-the one where she found herself drowning in blackness. So much blackness.

For three days she'd gone without sleep afraid to close her eyes.

"Easy, Angel." His lips touched her ear at the same time his hands slid over her shoulders and squeezed gently. "I can feel you shaking. Don't fall apart on me."

She could feel his stone-hard thighs pressed against her hips, feel his chest moving with each breath he took, feel his body heat growing, spreading. Consuming hers. "I'm afraid," she admitted.

"Of being in here with me, or the guy outside?"

It was a fair question. Kristen wanted to say both, but the truth was, as nervous as she was about being in this tight spot with Blu, it didn't compare to the fear of being captured and taken back to Salva. "I can't go back," she whispered, desperation in her voice.

"We can trust Lema. She won't give us up."

"She might not have to. That man looks capable of tearing this place apart a board at a time if he thinks I'm here." As she said the words, dread filled Kristen and she knew what the Hulk's presence meant-Salva had locked in on her location. He was coming for her. Coming for Amanda.

Amanda...Oh, G.o.d. Did Salva know where she was?

"Do you think this man knows where I've been staying?" she whispered.

"No, or he wouldn't be so persistent now. He'd just sit back and wait for you to go back to the women's

shelter."

"The shelter? You know where I've been staying?"

"I followed you last night."

Kristen felt her world tilt. The room suddenly turned hot and her heart began to pound. She felt her head

start to spin and she let go of her torn blouse and clasped Blu's arms in a white-knuckled grip. "I can't breathe."

"Easy."

Blu's body was pressed so tight to her, Kristen could feel the strength in his treelike stature. She leaned back, bracing her head against the wall, trying to gain some distance. The sound of voices on the other side caused a whimper to escape her lips and she gripped Blu's solid arms tighter.

"Concentrate on something else," he drawled.

Eyes squeezed shut, Kristen tried to chase away her growing panic. "I can't, it's not working. Nothing's working."

"Give Lema a few minutes to get rid of him."

"If he saw me come in here he won't leave without me." Kristen was working herself into a full-fledged

panic. "Easy." "Stop saying that." "Shh,fille. Let's do something to take your mind off what's going on out there." "And what could we possibly do? This closet isn't big enough to turn around in, much less-" Kristen felt him shift his body, felt him press against her. Suddenly his breath brushed her cheek. She smelled a hint of beer, not sickening mint. His mouth moved closer and then he was brushing his lips over hers, taking her mind and body somewhere else. The kiss started out whisper-soft, but in an instant the b.u.t.terfly caress exploded into something reckless and wonderful. He brushed his hot lips over hers once more, then began making love to her mouth as though a firestorm had suddenly erupted inside him.

It was beyond anything Kristen had ever experienced, this poignant rush of heat, this soul-wrenching need. Fleetingly, she chastised herself for succ.u.mbing so easily to this wild, untamed kiss. Then she was sliding her hands up Blu's arms and opening her mouth wider to allow his hard, hot tongue inside.

The firestorm spread.

Engulfed by it, s.e.xually awakened for the first time in her life, Kristen's stomach knotted. Flipped. Then flipped again. Suddenly her nipples ached and she felt an urgent need growing between her thighs. Desire was something foreign to her-at least, it had been dead for three years-and she rubbed against Blu in answer to this unexpected hunger.

The world tilted, then it didn't exist anymore as Blu pulled her away from the wall and his big hands cupped her backside and curled her more firmly against his lower body.

The black box that had become their safe haven grew smaller. Hotter. But even then, even when the Blu Devil's roused pa.s.sion lay stiff and pulsing against her belly, Kristen couldn't stop her own desire, or the longing this man's heat ignited.

It was the first, she mused. The first time she had ever lost herself in a man's kiss, to his hot touch. At least, that she remembered.

Chapter 7.

He wasn't going to mention the kiss. And sinceshe had refused to even look at him since they'd left Lema's ,Blu figured it was safe to say the entire episode was going to die a slow death-a very slow death because he was still smoldering from the waist down.

The kiss had been a way to keep her quiet. He'd acted before he'd thought. No, that wasn't true. He'd been dying to kiss her. Only he'd never expected her to give back the way she had. He'd never expected her to feed the fire that had sent him so quickly out of control.

"You're sure he didn't follow us?"

She sounded a little breathless, tired of the pace he'd set. Blu didn't break his stride as he ushered her onto DuBay Pier where theNightwing rode the gentle tide. "I can't guarantee that. But we're not going to stick around and find out."

She stopped."Meaning?"

Blu spun around. "Meaning, we don't have time for this right now. We're shipping out." He started walking again, hoping she would follow. He'd give her fifteen seconds and then she'd be over his shoulder whether she liked it or not. He heard her start after him. She was smart, he'd give her that. h.e.l.l, he'd give her more than that; that little mouth of hers could be the CIA's best secret weapon if they ever found out about it. He'd never experienced so much localized heat storming his groin all at once in his entire life.

His body hadn't wanted to stop, and even the night air wasn't doing much to settle him down. The sight of Angel dressed in one of Lema's sarongs wasn't helping, either. In the moonlight, even in the wig, she looked like some erotic sea witch he'd pulled from the ocean. But it was over now, and to remind himself of that fact, he noticed she had grown as skittish as a cornered spider crab. With good reason, he admitted. Things had gone too far in that closet, he'd touched her in places he shouldn't have. h.e.l.l, fully clothed, he'd d.a.m.n near made love to her in a two-by-two closet.

When they reached the cruiser, he hurried aboard, then turned to help her over the side. Only there was no need, she leaped onto the cruiser's deck with seasoned agility, again reminding him that she was no novice where boats were concerned. Not even the red-and-purple, ankle-length sarong affected her deft coordination.

It made him question himself another time. Did he know her? Was he supposed to? If she had lived in the area three years ago when would he have met her? Where? He studied the sarong and how it outlined her curves. Three years ago she would have been fifteen or sixteen. Seventeen at the oldest.

While she had changed into the sarong, he'd glimpsed more bruises on her body. He'd agreed to step out of the curtained room, but as she'd turned her back to shed her ruined blouse, he had watched her through the open edge of the curtain. He'd seen dark marks along her fragile rib cage and the length of her spine.

"Is that you, Blu?"

The call came from below deck. Blu answered, "It's me. Get on up here,mon ami."

"Who's that?"

For the first time since they'd left Lema's, Angel was looking him straight in the eye. "That's Mort," he told her. "He works for me, and sleeps on the cruiser sometimes." Mort scaled the stairs two at a time. The teenager was sixteen, as thin as Angel and no more than two inches taller. But the experience that showed brightly in his clear blue eyes made him look much older, and years wiser. "What's up?" he asked.

"I want you to bunk in with Brodie for a few days." Blu glanced toward the waterfront. There was still no one in sight, but he wasn't willing to take any chances.

Mort c.o.c.ked his head and eyed Angel. "Who's she?"

"Never mind." Blu's voice bit hard as his gaze locked on Mort once more. "Just round up your stuff and take off."

Mort grinned. "Not a problem. I'll be out of your hair in five minutes." Good at his word, in record time the teenager was back on deck with a small duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

"Tell Brodie, until he hears from me, he's in charge of the fleet."

Mort leaped to the dock, then spun around. "Why?"

"Never mind why. Tell him I might be out as long as a week."

"A week!" Mort glanced at Angel once more, then back to Blu again. "You've never taken any days off since ... since we met."

"Well, I'm taking some days now."

It was true his routine for the past eight years had been well established, but Blu didn't question his decision, and he didn't like Mort questioning him, either. "Hightail it so I can shoveoff."

Once Mort was gone, Blu turned and found Angel glaring at him. "What?"

"You were rude to him."

"We need to get moving." Blu untied the boat from its moorings.

"Do you always boss people around?"

"I've never given it much thought." Blu headed for the helm.

"Well, maybe you should."

"This is my boat." He turned over the engine. "I'm the boss."

"You're not the boss of me," she snapped.

Bluturned to look at her. "At the moment, I'll have to disagree."

"Because you're bigger and stronger?"

Blu backed the cruiser away from the pier. "Can we talk about this later? Right now we need to get out of here." With that, he left the pier behind with a burst of speed. "We won't gofar," he called over his shoulder, "there's a place at River Bay. It's about a mile from here."

Ten minutes later, Blu nosed theNightwing into a congested marina overrun with boats in all shapes and sizes-from sailboats to houseboats to luxury yachts. "There's only a handful of people who would look for me here," he told her, mooring the boat to the dock. "But no one you need to worry about."

She was at the railing, searching the quiet maze of boats docked around them. "Do you think Salva's man contacted him?" She faced him. "Do you think they're searching for me right now?"

The growing fear in her eyes was hard to watch. "We can't be sure that guy got a good look at you. But there's no sense taking chances. You'll need to stay out of sight for a while. And this is a good place. Finding someone here is next to impossible, that is unless you know what you're looking for. And they don't." Blu double checked the ropes that secured them to the dock. When he turned back, he caught Angel scanning the waterfront with more interest than he thought she should. "Don't be stupid," he warned. "This is a perfect hiding place for you."

"Isit,really?"

"Yes."