by Cynthia Eden
“It was Devin,” Shelly cut in. “Devin Donley.”
“Your brother’s partner?” Blane’s voice was heavy with shock.
Blane knew Devin. Devin had been to the cabin before. He’d come with them on summer vacations. He’d been a friend.
He’d also been a killer. But now… “He’s dead,” Shelly said. And she wanted to be very, very clear on this part. “John killed Devin in order to save my life.”
Blane swore, then he hurried past her.
She stood there, trapped in the swirl of lights, her body absolutely ice cold. She didn’t know how long she’d been out in the cold. Her teeth were chattering. Maybe she should go find a coat. Shelly took a step forward and almost fell face-first into the snow.
But John caught her. He pulled her into his arms, lifting her easily. Her face slid into the crook of his neck. He was so warm.
“I’ve got you,” John whispered.
She remembered what it had been like when he was so still on the ground. When she’d touched him and found no heartbeat.
Her tears came and she couldn’t stop them.
“I’ve got you,” he told her once more as he held her tighter.
Chapter Eleven
He’d almost lost her.
John walked out of the small bathroom, tendrils of steam following him. Long hours had passed since the hell on that mountain. He’d answered dozens of questions for the sheriff. He’d gone over the attack again and again during a night that never seemed to end.
The nightmare was over now. Shelly’s attacker—his attacker—was out of the picture. They were both safe.
He hadn’t wanted to stay at the cabin that night. After everything that had happened, John had thought Shelly needed to escape for a little while, too. And since the place had been swarming with deputies and fire fighters, getting out had seemed like the best plan.
For the time being, they were in the apartment over Sammy’s bar. The same damn bar he’d been thrown out of his first day in town. Sammy had offered the place to Shelly, and she’d accepted. She’d been so quiet. So withdrawn, and the pain on her face absolutely ripped John apart.
He strode into the bedroom. Sparsely furnished, but with a big, wooden bed that dominated the space. A patchwork quilt covered the bed, and Shelly sat on it, her shoulders hunched, her head down. Like him, she’d taken a shower, and her long hair—still wet—hung over her shoulders. A fire crackled in the nearby fireplace.
John stilled when he saw her. And he remembered the absolute terror he’d felt when he’d woken on the cold ground, and she’d been gone. An ache had burned in his chest, right over his heart. Ice had encased his body, but the burning in his chest had kept getting stronger and stronger until he’d broken through that ice. He’d jumped up and seen the wreckage of the garage. Seen those flames shooting so high into the sky. He didn’t remember getting out of the blaze. Now, he knew exactly why he didn’t remember. “You pulled me out of the fire.”
She flinched at his voice. Dawn was coming. Dawn, finally. He could see the streaks of light trying to push through the blinds.
He stepped toward her. The wooden floor was covered with a thick, dark rug. “You went into the garage, when it was burning, and you got me out.”
Her head lifted. Her dark gaze met his. There was pain in her stare. Grief. “I didn’t know if you could come back, not if your body was burned. And I couldn’t leave you. I had to save you.” Her lower lip trembled. “But when I got you out, you were so still. Your heart wasn’t beating, and then Devin was just there.”
“He fucking stabbed me in the heart.” His hand rose to his chest. The skin was still red.
Shelly jumped to her feet. She wore a heavy, blue robe. One that Sammy had given to her. She came toward him and the robe swirled around her feet. She put her hand to his chest.
He was clad only in a towel, one he’d knotted around his waist. So her fingers brushed against his bare skin, seeming to sear him straight to his soul.
“I thought he’d run after me,” she said, voice husky. “That it would give you a chance to heal.”
“Guess he wanted to make sure I was dead first.”
Her gaze met his. Her touch lingered on his chest. “I think he killed my brother.”
Yeah, it sure as hell looked that way.
“And I think…back in Miami…I think he may have killed you, too.”
Rage twisted inside of John.
“Devin said that he served with you. We can pull your military records, John. We can find out more about your life. We can retrace your footsteps, can see who you were.”
He stepped away from her. “On the phone…back at the cabin, Devin said I was obsessed with you.”
Her lips twisted. “I think it’s safe to say that the man was a liar and a killer.”
“When I escaped the lab, I came straight to you. You’ve been in my head for months—”
Once more, she closed the distance between them. “Because you knew—deep inside—you knew I was in danger. You found me because you were coming to help me. And you did. You saved me. You saved that deputy. My brother’s killer isn’t going to be on the streets any longer. All because of you.”
“I killed a man.” And he’d done it so easily. Hadn’t hesitated. Because when Devin had targeted Shelly…I knew I wasn’t going to let him live.
“Am I supposed to be afraid of you because of that? I’m not. I’ve never been more grateful than when I saw you standing over me.”
But she was still painting him as a hero, and he wasn’t sure that he was. “It was too easy to kill.” And something that he knew—I think I’ve done it before.
“Devin didn’t give you a choice. If you hadn’t stopped him, he was going to kill me. He was going to stab me and leave my body at the cabin.”
Rage flared hotter and harder inside of him. Not her. Never her.
“Devin was right in front of me, all these years, and I didn’t see the monster staring back at me.”
John was the one staring at her right then. What did she see, when she looked at him?
The fire crackled, and he jerked. His gaze slid to the flames in the fireplace. His fingers flexed, stretching, then fisting. “You shouldn’t have come into that garage.” He now knew that Devin had rigged the place to blow. Tricky bastard. Devin had stayed back, safe from a distance, and he’d detonated when John went inside. “You could have been killed in there.”
“Maybe I wanted a turn at trying to save you.”
His gaze flew back to her. A faint smile curved her lips, but as he gazed down at her, the smile slipped away. She shook her head. “No, no, that’s not what happened.” Her chin lifted. “I heard the explosion. When I got outside, I saw the flames. I knew you were inside, and nothing on this earth would have made me leave you there. I get that you’re super strong and pretty much indestructible, but you were burning. I couldn’t leave you to burn. I couldn’t do that.”
“Shelly…”
“Maybe I’m the one who’s obsessed,” she murmured. “I’m the one in too deep. Because I swear, John, I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest when I saw those flames. I got inside, and there was so much smoke. The fire was everywhere. There were boards on your legs, and they were on fire, and I couldn’t get you to wake up.”
He caught her hands in his. Saw the bruises and the scratches and the blisters on her fingers. He’d healed, but she hadn’t. She carried the pain on her. He brought her hands to his mouth. Pressed tender kisses to her skin. “Thank you.”
“John?”
He lifted her into his arms. Took her to the bed. “When I was in that fucking lab, I used to think…someone is going to come. I’m not going to be locked in this hell-hole forever. Someone will remember me. Someone will get me out of here.” He eased her onto the bed. Sat down next to her. Caged her with his arms. “You’re that someone, Shelly.”
“I didn’t.” A furrow was between h
er brows. “I didn’t know—”
“You walked through fire for me tonight, baby. If you’d known I was in that lab, you would have torn the place apart in order to get to me.”
She nodded. “Yes.” And the truth was there, right between them. Emotions that neither of them quite understood, but a connection that bound them nonetheless.
He’d fight for her. Kill for her. He had killed for her.
And she’d gone into the fire for him.
His gaze searched hers. “I’m sorry about your brother.”
Her lips trembled. “I was preparing to bury him while you were dying.”
“I’m not dead.” He had another chance. A chance with her. A chance at a life, and he was going to grab it tight with both hands.
But it was her soft hand that rose. Her hand that curled under his jaw. “You’re not dead.” Her hand trailed down his chest. Stilled over his heart. “I can feel it beating again.”
His heart was beating even faster, for her.
“Where do you go, when your heart stops?”
He wasn’t sure. Sometimes, he had brief flashes. Images. Bursts of light. Sometimes, John swore that he saw her.
“I want you to try reading my mind again,” Shelly told him.
John hesitated. “I thought you told me to stay out of your head.”
“I want you to know what I’m feeling, what I’m wanting, right now.”
But he didn’t ease the safeguards he’d put in his mind. Instead, his head bent toward her. His mouth hovered over hers. “Tell me what you want, and it’s yours.”
“You. I just want you.”
He knew she was coming off an emotional landslide. Devin, the attack, her brother…John didn’t want to slip into her mind because later, she’d hate the invasion. When her pain eased and when the adrenaline left her, she’d be angry that he’d seen her most private thoughts.
“Do you want me, John?”
His cock was full and heavy, shoving against the towel that tried to confine him. “Baby, I always want you.” She didn’t need to be a mind reader in order to know that. “But you’ve been through hell today, you don’t need—”
“You are what I need. You’re what I want.” Her fingertips skimmed down his stomach. Down to the towel. “Will you make love to me?”
He kissed her. Took her mouth. Let go of the iron control he’d held so tightly in the hours after the chaos on that mountain. Her lips parted for him. Her tongue met his. The kiss was harder than it should have been. He needed to exercise care with her, but a dark demon had been riding within him.
What if he hadn’t woken up soon enough?
What if he hadn’t healed soon enough?
What if he hadn’t gotten to her in those damn woods soon enough?
When he’d arrived, Devin had been about to drive his fist into her delicate jaw. What would have come next?
The bastard’s knife in her throat?
Can’t lose her. Won’t. Shelly was the reason he’d kept going. The reason he’d survived the lab.
His kiss was desperate. His hands were shaking as they held her. He could barely keep himself in check, and John knew he should be exercising more caution. Giving her pleasure. Stroking her. Caressing her. But at the touch of her mouth against his, everything changed.
He rolled on the bed, bringing her on top of him, knowing that the position would give her more power. Her knees were on either side of his hips. The robe had parted, and her sex pushed against his cock. Her naked sex. She wasn’t wearing panties. Sweet fuck.
He yanked at the belt of the robe and the robe parted, revealing her tight nipples, those perfect breasts. He leaned up and took one into his mouth even as his hand slid between their bodies.
Get her ready. Don’t take. Get—
His fingers slid over her sex. Pushed against her clit. Had her moaning against him. Arching.
“I don’t want to wait,” Shelly gasped. “Don’t make me wait.”
He was already at the edge. And her voice, her sexy plea…no, he’d never make her wait. He positioned his cock and drove deep into her with one hard thrust. Her head tipped back, her eyes closed.
He nearly lost his mind. She was so tight and hot. Perfect paradise.
Then Shelly lifted her body up, only to push back down.
His hands flew up and grabbed the headboard. He heard the creak of the wood. He held the wood tight while she rode him, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted, her body so eager and sexy.
He tried to hold back. Tried to let her take the lead but…
“John!”
He rolled them again, and this time, he was on top. She came beneath him, her body bucking as the pleasure poured through her, and he let go. His climax slammed through his body, and his breath heaved out. He pressed his mouth to her neck. Kissing her, marking her, fucking loving her as he came. The orgasm went on and on, and when it was done, when he was finished…
He lifted his head. Stared down at Shelly. And realized—“Fuck, baby, I didn’t use anything.”
Her smile came, went, but left a faint glow in her eyes. “It’s okay, I’m covered. And I wanted to be this way with you.”
“Shelly…I…” He was already getting hard inside of her again. Because he craved her, endlessly.
“I’m clean,” she said, and her words hitched a bit as she pushed her hips up against him. “And I’m figuring if you can heal from any injury, well, you’re probably clean, too.”
He pushed into her, loving the way her body tightened around him. Slick and hot. Heaven.
“Again?” Shelly asked, her voice the purest temptation he’d ever heard.
Again. Always. He withdrew, pushed back, and when she moaned for him, he felt like Christmas had just fucking come. His dream was in his arms. She was holding him, arching up to him, giving him her sweet body, and she stared at him with shining eyes, wanting him, needing him, just as wildly as he needed her.
John kissed her and he fucked her, and he knew he’d always want her. He wanted her pleasure, her whispers, her dreams. He wanted every single thing about her.
His mouth trailed over her neck. Over her silken skin. She gasped and quivered. Oh, hell, yes, she liked that spot. He made a mental note to always kiss her right there, on the curve of her shoulder. Then he slid down, his fingers teasing her breasts. Her legs locked around his hips as she gave a quick cry of his name.
His name on her lips. A name. Not a number. He was John. And Shelly—Shelly was his. A woman who wanted him. Needed him.
Loved him?
Hell, no, probably not yet, but maybe…maybe one day.
She came again, crying out his name once more, and he followed her, driving into her, over and over again, until the climax ripped through him. Until she was all he knew.
All he wanted.
***
“She’s going to die…”
He couldn’t move. John was on the ground, twisted on his side. Dirt and grime were all around him, and his chest felt ice cold. Car horns sounded in the distance, and he could see the faint green edge of a dumpster.
“You thought you’d play the hero, didn’t you?” That taunting voice demanded. Shoes were in front of his face. Black boots. “But you’re just going to die.” The guy crouched in front of him. He recognized the bastard’s face.
Devin. Devin Donley.
“You always thought you were better than me, didn’t you? The better soldier. The better fighter. The better fucking man.” Devin stared at the bloody knife in his hand. “Guess who’s better now, old friend? And when I have all of her money, when that company is mine, no one will ever fucking think I wasn’t good enough.”
Devin was going to kill Shelly. “Sh…Sh…” John couldn’t talk.
“There’s a whole lot of blood pumping out of you. Guess you didn’t think this was how it would end, did you? That’s why it was so easy. You always looked for a threat from the outside. You thought you were protecting her from someone else.” Devin smiled.
“That’s the thing with people. They never see the real danger, not when it’s up close. That’s why Shelly hasn’t known. Why she’ll have no clue when I come for her. Maybe I’ll use the same knife on her. Think that’s fitting, don’t you?” Devin rose.
John’s fingers slid toward him, creeping along the grime and dirt and blood.
“It’s taking you a fucking long time to die.” Devin drove his boot into John’s side. “Maybe let’s just speed this shit up.”
The knife came at him again. Sinking into him, driving deep. Fast. Hard.
“You loved her, didn’t you, John? The mighty John finally fell. Too bad, she’ll never know.”
A siren screamed in the night.
“Fuck,” Devin muttered. Then he was running away. His feet thudded across the broken pavement.
John tried to move. Tried to drag himself forward, but his whole body was numb. A pool of blood surrounded him. He knew he was dying. He could feel it. And if he died…
What about Shelly?
Shelly…
He had to help her. Had to—
***
John jerked upright. His heart was pounding and sweat covered his body. Immediately, he reached to the side, needing to touch Shelly, needing to make sure that she was still close. But she wasn’t there.
His head turned. Shelly stood at the window, gazing out at the street. Sunlight spilled in, creating a soft glow around her.
John sucked in a deep breath. One, then another. He knew he’d just had another memory. This time, it had been a memory of his death. When he was close to Shelly, fuck, the memories came more often. They were stronger.
“It’s not fair.”
Her voice was low, soft.
He slid from the bed. Grabbed a pair of jeans and jerked them on. “Baby?”
She turned toward him. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, having no idea what she was talking about.
“I haven’t been fair to you.” She closed the distance between them. “You came into my life, and you just wanted to help me. I was afraid of you at first. I doubted you, and because of me, you were nearly blown up.” Her hand pressed over his heart. “You were stabbed.”
