I Can See You

by Karen Rose

  “Shut up.” But she could feel a slight tremble in Dell’s hand.

  She could see Noah watching, waiting, alert. She felt the weight of her own weapon in her pocket and hoped to keep Dell distracted enough that he wouldn’t feel it, too.

  “You killed your father for no reason, Dell,” Eve said softly. “He didn’t tell on you.”

  Dell was shaking now. “Shut up. Damn you.”

  “Did he tell you he was innocent? Beg for mercy? Did you shoot him anyway?”

  His arm tightened around her throat. She lifted higher on her toes, trying to breathe.

  “Let her go, Farmer,” Noah said, his voice as calm as hers had been.

  “No. No. You killed, too, Webster. You started this.”

  “I didn’t kill your brother, Dell,” Noah said. “He was running from a crime. We were pursuing. That’s what we do.”

  “He didn’t do anything.”

  Eve could smell his desperation, a rancid odor.

  “He killed a store owner,” Noah said reasonably. “In cold blood.”

  “Only because she drove him to it.”

  “She? You mean Katie?” Noah asked.

  “Yes. He wasn’t bad. V wasn’t bad.” But he didn’t sound so sure now. Eve sensed his confusion and remembered the night before, that brief moment when she’d reminded him he was in a bar surrounded by cops. Rage had become confusion, then he’d swung back to cold control. Dell was there, right now, in that moment between rage and control, and Eve prayed Noah was paying attention. Turning herself into dead weight, Eve lifted her feet and wrenched from his grip.

  “Drop the gun, Farmer,” Noah demanded, even as she hit the floor, rolling away.

  Curled into a ball, she turned her head enough to peek out. Noah held his gun steady on Dell, but Dell held his gun on Eve. The two men stared at each other.

  “I’ll kill her,” Dell said, his voice coldly mocking, just like the night before, “while you watch. You’re going to kill me anyway, just like you did V. I’ll take her with me.”

  Eve slid her hand into her coat pocket and pulled out her gun. She lurched to her knees, holding her aim steady at the hand that held the gun.

  “No, you won’t,” she said, and Dell’s head whipped around, eyes wide and startled.

  It was all Noah needed. Quickly he closed the gap, twisting Dell’s wrist painfully as he shoved him to the floor, his own weapon shoved against Dell’s spine as Dell fought wildly. Noah grunted as he struggled for control of Dell’s gun, one knee jammed into his back, the other pressing his arm into the floor.

  “Get back,” Noah snarled to Eve. “Get out of here. Now.”

  “I’ll kill you,” Dell was screeching at the same time. “I don’t care which of you.”

  Eve crawled a few feet toward Dell and pointed her gun at his head. “Stop it,” she snapped. “Or I’ll shoot your damn head off. You don’t want to die, Dell. I’ve been there, and trust me, it ain’t fun. I’m not lying. And I’m not afraid of you.”

  Dell stared up at her, eyes full of hate. In seconds Noah knocked Dell’s gun from his hand, then cuffed his hands behind his back. Kneeling on Dell’s bucking legs, Noah looked up, his eyes dark with fury. “What part of ‘Get back’ did you not understand?”

  “I couldn’t hear you,” Eve said blandly. “He was screaming ‘I’ll kill you’ too loudly.”

  Noah rolled his eyes, tersely called for backup, then looked at Trina, who’d struggled to a sitting position, her hands and feet bound. “Where’s Brock?” he demanded.

  “Bedroom,” Trina said. “He was going to kill us when you got here, make you watch.”

  Eve was on her feet. “I’ll go.” Her heart surprisingly steady, she ran to the back, stopping to grab a kitchen knife. Brock was on the bedroom floor, tied and gagged. But his eyes were open and furious. She pulled the gag from his mouth.

  “Is everyone okay?” were the first words from his mouth.

  “Yeah. Are you?” She winced. “Ooh. That’s a nasty bump on your head.”

  He rolled his eyes. “How much will it take to wipe this picture from your mind?”

  Eve chuckled as she sawed at his ropes. “We’ll negotiate.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Wednesday, February 24, 11:20 p.m.

  Noah blew out a relieved breath when Eve emerged with Brock, walking unaided. “You better be happy they’re not hurt, you little shit,” Noah muttered.

  “I would’ve,” Farmer snarled. “I would’ve killed all of them while you watched.”

  Noah held on to his temper. Barely. He’d recited Miranda, but Farmer had screamed through it. Farmer starting screaming again as Brock ran to his side, holding Farmer down while Noah dug plasticuffs from his pocket and secured Farmer’s kicking feet.

  Eve cut Trina’s bonds and helped her to the sofa amid Dell’s promised retribution, delivered at a pitch that could shatter glass.

  “You guys need a medic?” Noah asked.

  Brock and Trina checked each other for injuries. “Nah,” Brock said, “I think we’re good with just some ice. Eve has informed me I have a nasty bump.” He lifted his brows in an attempt at levity. “I never would have known otherwise.”

  Now that it was over, Noah chanced a look at Eve and his heart tumbled. She stood, still calm, holding one of Trina’s butcher knives in her hand. Noah stood, wincing a little. He lifted Eve’s chin where a bruise was forming, his jaw going hard. “He hit you.”

  “I’m okay. Really.”

  “You were a hell of a lot better than okay.” Needing to hold her, but aware of Brock’s and Trina’s curious eyes avidly watching every move, Noah stepped back. “I’ll call Abbott. The three of you should go ice yourselves.”

  Brock helped Trina to her feet. “I’ll have bourbon with my ice.”

  “I’m not on duty,” Eve shot back, laughing as she walked with them to the kitchen.

  She was a fascinating woman, Noah thought. So often, she stood back and watched the world go by. But when she found herself thrust into it, she… sparkled.

  Distraction? Perhaps. But a welcome one. He glanced down at Farmer. And now that this SOB was in custody, she was no longer in danger. She needed no safe house.

  He could take her home. Or to mine. He swallowed hard as he thought about taking up where they’d left off earlier that evening. But other priorities came first.

  Noah took his cell from his pocket, his adrenaline already receding. Abbott had told him Donner was gone and commanded him to meet him and CSU at Donner’s house.

  “Bruce, it’s Noah,” he said when Abbott picked up.

  “Where are you?” Abbott asked acidly. “And what’s all that racket?”

  “At my cousin’s house and the racket is Farmer. I brought Eve to stay with Brock, but Farmer was already here, waiting. Long story short, he’s cuffed and lying on the floor.”

  “My God,” Abbott said, the acid drained from his tone. “Is everyone okay?”

  “Brock’s got a bumped head. Trina, Eve, and I have some bruises. Farmer’s alive.” Two uniformed officers came through the front door. “Backup just arrived.”

  “Good. It’ll be a pleasure to see him rot in prison. I’ll let Olivia know.”

  “What about Donner?”

  “Still no sign of him,” Abbott said, but Noah’s attention was suddenly fixed on Farmer who had stopped screaming and was now laughing like a crazed hyena.

  “Wait,” Noah said to Abbott, then crouched next to Farmer. “What’s so funny?”

  “You,” Farmer said. “Looking for Donner. He almost got you good tonight.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Farmer shrugged, a smirk on his face. “You’ll see. Or maybe you won’t, then pow. It’ll be night-night-Noah and your pretty Eve, too.”

  Noah leaned in close. “Tell me what you know,” he said quietly.

  Farmer’s smirk grew more mocking. “Or you’ll do what? Other than kill me, there’s nothing more you can do to
me.” His smirk became a sneer. “So go fuck yourself.”

  Noah rose and nodded to the uniforms. “Take him in. Mirandize him again. He screamed while I did it and I don’t want any sleazy lawyer saying he never was advised of his rights. Keep him restrained, and watch his damn feet,” he called after them.

  “What did he mean?” Abbott asked. “Night-night-Noah.”

  “I don’t know. But he’d heard Donner’s name before.” Then Noah remembered. “Of course. He was at Marshall yesterday. He met Jeremy Lyons, who works for Donner. He might have met Donner then. What did you find at Donner’s house?”

  “Broken glass in a back door, nobody home. Looks like he and his wife went away.”

  “Damn. Do we know where?” Noah demanded.

  “I’ve got a request for his LUDs in process, Noah,” Abbott said. “And a BOLO. None of the neighbors know where they might have gone.”

  Noah sighed. “I really believed Donner wasn’t our man. Now, he’s bolted and Crazy Boy Farmer says he’s out to get me. I should have had surveillance on him all along.”

  “I put surveillance in front of the two women’s houses you sent me, Natalie Clooney and Kathy Kirk. For now, we have Eve’s frequent users covered, so his victim pool has been warned. You go home, get some rest. You’ve had a pretty busy day.”

  Noah found himself too relieved to argue. “Haven’t we all. How’s Jack?”

  “Still critical. They said they’d know by morning. I’ll call you with any news.”

  Thursday, February 25, 12:25 a.m.

  Noah turned off his engine and everything went silent as the two of them sat in his driveway. They had been inordinately lucky.

  Or fate had smiled. Eve wasn’t sure which she believed anymore.

  She only knew the silence had grown louder with every mile. When he hadn’t taken the turnoff to her apartment, she’d known this moment was coming. Her mind kept going back to the backseat of his old car and inside her whirled arousal… and fear. A lot of fear. In her mind she knew it was unfounded. Noah wouldn’t hurt her.

  After staring straight ahead at his garage door for a full minute, she chanced a glance at Noah from the corner of her eye. He looked grim. “I don’t know what to do next,” he confessed and she saw compassion as an easy way out for them both.

  “Noah, you’re tired. Take me home and get some rest, just like Abbott ordered.”

  “Do you want that?” he asked, and her pounding heart pounded harder.

  “If we go inside, what happens next?”

  He didn’t blink. “We can sleep. Or not. Your call.”

  Everything inside her clenched. “Can we just dip our toe in and see where it goes?”

  “We can do anything you want, Eve,” he said, volleying the ball into her court again.

  “It’s just…” She shrugged. “The last time I had sex with a guy he tried to kill me.”

  Now he blinked. “You said there’d been another between then and now.”

  “One other that didn’t go very well. Actually, it didn’t go at all.”

  His dark brows went up, hidden beneath the brim of his hat. “Why not?”

  “He couldn’t. He really tried, but he… couldn’t.”

  “Did you love him?”

  “No. It was more like a mutual favor between friends.” She pursed her lips. “Yeah.”

  Noah pushed his hat back on his head and stared at her. “I don’t understand.”

  “Well, remember that doctor? The one who’d had the accident?”

  “You had sex with him?”

  “Well… no. Which is the point. He and I got to talking one day and I wondered if I still could. You know, if everything still… worked. He said he’d be willing to try.”

  “What a guy,” Noah said dryly.

  “Yeah, well.” Eve chuckled awkwardly. “It’s kind of funny now, but it sure wasn’t funny then, for either of us. I think I was more upset for him than about myself.”

  “Not surprising,” he murmured.

  “About a year ago he called me. He’s met someone and he’s happy. And functional.” Her smile was half fond and half embarrassed. “He made sure I knew that.”

  “What a guy,” Noah said again. He hooked his finger under her chin, tugging until she looked up at him again. Then his head dipped, his mouth covered hers, and he kissed her so thoroughly her toes curled in her boots. He pulled back just far enough to see her face. “You want to dip your toe in, Eve, or do you want to dive into a cold pool?”

  In his eyes was heated challenge she couldn’t ignore if she wanted to. And, to her relief, she found she didn’t want to. “Cold pool,” she said and his eyes flashed, with triumph probably. But that was okay because she was feeling triumphant herself.

  Noah paused long enough to throw the deadbolt on his front door and take her computer bag and coat. Then he took her hand and led her back to his bed.

  He’d had a flash of insight at Brock and Trina’s. For all Eve’s outer calm, she was timid. Terrified even. The last six years of her life had been all about dipping her toe in.

  But he’d watched her when she was put face to face with people. She interacted. She came alive. She just needed that nudge. So did I. He’d needed whatever had put them together. Call it fate or luck or whatever, he didn’t intend to spend another day watching her over his tonic water.

  He stopped next to his bed, set his gun on his nightstand. Then he slid his hands into her short hair and took her mouth the way he’d wanted to from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, letting her feel what he’d kept pent up for one very long year. With a low, satisfied hum she leaned up into him, grabbing his wrists for balance, then her hands slid down his arms, under his suit coat, flattening against his back. With kissing she was comfortable. He prayed she’d be comfortable with what came next.

  “These are the rules of this game,” he said against her lips. “You say ‘stop’ or ‘wait’ at any time and I will. But if you say nothing, I keep going. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she said breathlessly, her fingers digging into his back. “Just hurry.”

  But he wouldn’t hurry. He’d given them the nudge they needed, but had no intention of flying so fast that they missed the trip. He spent time on her mouth, kissing her long and deep and lush until the hands that gripped his back slid up his chest and around his neck. He ran his mouth over the cheek she could feel and down the scar she couldn’t.

  He ran his lips down her neck, over and past the leather choker he’d never seen her without, until he got to the collar of her sweater. She’d pushed his suit coat off his shoulders and to the floor and was tugging his shirt from his trousers and it was all he could do not to throw her on the bed and plunge deep.

  But he didn’t hurry, didn’t rush. Didn’t push her. Didn’t need to. She was struggling with the buttons of his shirt and he pulled back to give her room.

  She looked up, her eyes dark, intense. “My hands are clumsy.”

  “I don’t mind.” When she’d finished, he shrugged out of the shirt.

  For a moment she simply looked at him and he felt oddly… humbled. “I always wondered what went on under your suits,” she said softly. “I never thought I’d find out.”

  “I’m glad you were wrong.”

  She smiled at that, shyly, but her hands were clenched together. She was nervous again, but she hadn’t told him to stop, so he started anew. He kissed her until she kissed him back and her hands unclenched, flattening on his chest, and he shuddered.

  He’d missed this. Needed this. He dropped his head to her shoulder. “Don’t stop.”

  “I won’t.” And she didn’t, fanning her palms back and forth, exploring.

  He lifted his head and watched her face as she touched him. She’d needed this, too. “I like the summer,” he said abruptly and she looked up, surprise in her eyes.

  “Why?”

  “Because you have this shirt that you wear to the bar.” He trailed his fingers up under her sweater, alo
ng her stomach, and felt her muscles clench and quiver. “It’s cut high. When you twist a certain way, I could see part of your tattoo. What is it?”

  She swallowed hard. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

  “I could do that.” He pulled her sweater over her head, revealing a plain, serviceable bra that shouldn’t have made his mouth water, but it did. Gently he pushed her to the bed and followed her down, running his fingers over the skin he’d bared.

  He pressed his lips between her breasts then forced himself to lift his head. “This drove me crazy all summer.” Vines crept up from the waist of her jeans, curling this way and that. Some bore tiny flowers. In some places the vines were thicker than others.

  She was holding her breath. He ran his fingertip over one of the thicker vines, felt the hardened, raised skin beneath. And understood. They were the scars from the eight times she’d been stabbed. She’d turned something horrific into something beautiful.

  He waited to meet her eyes, waited until he’d shoved all the sorrow and rage back deep, where she couldn’t see. Waited until the only thing left was pride. And desire. “This is one hell of a tattoo,” he said, his voice between husky and hoarse.

  She breathed then, her tension ebbing. “It keeps going. You know. Down.”

  Noah’s mouth curved even as his fingers itched to rip the jeans from her body and see just how far down the vines dipped. “I can see that.”

  She exhaled through her teeth. “Hurry, Noah.”

  But he wouldn’t let himself be hurried. He kissed the skin above her bra, then below it until her shoulders lifted from the bed, seeking more. Finally she threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled his mouth to her breast and he gave in, sucking hard through the cotton, groaning when she pushed the fabric away.

  She twisted higher, humming her pleasure when he took her other breast in his mouth. “More,” she whispered. “Do more. Please. Don’t make me wait anymore.”

  His hands shaking, he yanked the jeans and lace panties down her long legs, leaving her naked and wide-eyed, waiting for his reaction.