Stormy Vows - Iris Johansen [62]
Chadeaux froze, and Brenna drew a breath of infinite thanksgiving.
Donovan held the key to the room in his hand. Obviously he'd used his influence to get it from the motel office. Now he hurled it furiously to the floor and lunged across the room. He jerked Chadeaux up from the bed, throwing him violently against the wall. He followed, his powerful hands squeezing the collar of Chadeaux's shirt into a stranglehold, causing congested color to mount in Chadeaux's frightened face.
“Wait!” Chadeaux gasped desperately, “Listen to me!”
Donovan's face was a mask of rage, his eyes the flaming blue of the fires of hell. “No, you listen. If you say one more word, I'm going to beat you senseless.” Donovan grated, between his teeth. “I may still do it, even if you don't.”
Brenna sat up dazedly, her eyes fixed in fascination on Donovan. She didn't blame Chadeaux for his almost abject terror. There was such an aura of rage about Donovan that it was as if he were surrounded by an invisible wall of flame.
Donovan's words came with the soft rapidity of a machine gun. “I'm going to tell you this once, Chadeaux, and never again, so you listen carefully. You're never to see my wife again. You're never to talk to her on the telephone. You're never to write to her. You're most particularly not to lay a finger on her again. If you do, I swear you'll wish you had never been born! Do you understand?”
Chadeaux nodded, his eyes bulging, as he gasped helplessly for air.
Donovan turned to Brenna, and her breath caught. She shrank back against the headboard at the white hot fury in his face.
“Get up, and get out of here,” he ordered harshly. “Bob Phillips is waiting outside. Take Randy out to him.”
Brenna scrambled off the bed, experiencing a few moments of dizziness that caused her to falter momentarily before rushing around to pick up Randy from the bed and hurry to the open door.
Donovan was waiting there, his face white and set. He hesitated a moment, then, as if unable to resist the impulse, he turned back and strode to where Chadeaux was cringing against the far wall.
“I told you I might do it anyway,” he said coolly, and struck him a bruising blow to the chin. Chadeaux grunted once, his eyes glazing over, and then slid slowly down the wall, unconscious.
Without giving him another glance, Donovan turned and walked away, grabbing Brenna by the elbow and sweeping her grimly from the room.
As he had said, Bob Phillips was standing by the Mercedes, a worried frown on his craggy face. He carefully avoided Brenna's eyes as they approached. “Everything okay?” he asked Donovan.
Donovan nodded tersely. Taking the sleeping Randy from Brenna, he handed him to Phillips. “Doris Charles will be at the Portland airport by now. I radioed Monty to have her flown here over an hour ago.”
Brenna felt her head whirling in bewilderment, as Phillips put Randy carefully in the front seat of the car. Things had been moving too fast since Donovan had appeared on the scene. She took an automatic step toward the child, and Donovan's hand tightened on her elbow. “No,” he clipped harshly. “You come with me.”
He led her to an ancient Chevy pickup truck parked a few spaces away. She allowed him to help her into the vehicle with a meek docility that was foreign to her. She felt only a dull curiosity as he put the truck in gear and with much coughing and sputtering eased it onto the highway.
“Where are we going?” she asked remotely. She wished vaguely that the fierce throbbing in her head would stop.
“I landed the 'copter at a private airport about three miles from here,” he said shortly. “I rented the truck from a kid who services the airplanes.”
Brenna nodded weakly, leaning her head against the back of the seat. She closed her eyes to shut out the brilliance of the on-coming headlights that only increased the stabbing pain behind her eyes. She vaguely realized that there were many questions still unanswered, but she had no energy or strength to ask them at the moment. It was enough, for