“That doesn’t sound weird and it sure doesn’t sound cowardly. Do you think you can make an exception now and try to remember instead of trying to forget?”
Now that Joe was with her, now that she was surrounded by him, now that she could feel his steady heartbeat against her back...yes. Having him here made all the difference. Before, all those nights and nights of waking up in terror, cold sweat covering her body, she’d felt absolutely alone. Not just alone in her house but alone. The last human in a dark universe populated by monsters.
“Okay.”
Joe’s hands tightened around hers and she realized her hands had been trembling. It gave her a spurt of warmth and energy. No one had held her hands during the night terrors.
“I can tell you about this nightmare. The one I just had. I’m in a room. A big room, a room I’ve never seen before. It is filled with people dressed up for an occasion and there is the air of a big party in process. The people are laughing, happy. Waiting for something big.”
“That sounds like the ballroom the night of the Massacre. So you do remember it.”
“No.” Isabel frowned, trying to explain what she barely understood. “My memory of the Massacre, if it ever returns, will be different. Because I’m familiar with the Burrard and I knew a lot of the people there to celebrate—” Her voice wobbled. “To celebrate Dad’s intent to run for the presidency. There would be a lot of the party activists I wouldn’t necessarily know but I’d know a lot of people there, if only fleetingly. Dad’s friends, reporters, donors. There wasn’t anyone I recognized in my nightmare. And there was this air—”
She shivered, looking for the words to describe the horrible feeling of menace.
“Take your time,” Joe murmured.
He was good. She’d been to two shrinks who had tried to lead her through her memories but she had felt pushed, prodded. Joe simply waited to hear what she would say. You’d think soldiers would be restless adrenaline junkies, but Joe was the opposite. He always gave off an air of infinite calm and right now of infinite patience.
“This air of menace. Of great evil. I know that sounds crazy—”
“Evil exists in the world,” Joe said quietly. “I’ve seen it, touched it.”
Yes, he would understand. He had been a soldier in terrible wars. He would understand evil.
“Dark, menacing. Horrible. Triumphant. As if it knew something we didn’t. But all these people dancing and laughing and celebrating—they’re clueless. Something truly horrible is about to happen and I am trying to warn everyone, but they’re not listening. They can’t hear me. I want to scream but I can’t. I want to run around but I can’t. I can’t move. It’s horrible.”
“Sleep paralysis,” Joe said. “Glycine and gamma-aminobutyric acid paralyzing the muscles during REM sleep. It’s a self-defense mechanism of the body. Otherwise we’d kill people in our sleep.”
“Awful. Just awful.” Like being trapped. “So no one would listen to me, no one paid me any attention at all, though I knew something horrible was going to happen. They didn’t even pay attention when something horrible did happen.” She drew in a deep shuddering breath. “People started dying.”
They were silent. Isabel couldn’t go on and Joe simply wrapped himself more tightly around her, a wall of warm flesh acting as protection.
Finally, Isabel spoke again. The nightmare was starting to lose its contours, fade. She wanted to nail it while she could see some flashes of it. “I was told by police authorities that they used machine guns during the Massacre. They even told me the make and the caliber, though I don’t remember any of that.”
“AK-47s,” Joe said softly. “The weapon of choice of your discerning terrorist.”
Isabel shook. AK-47s had killed her parents, her brothers. Her aunts, uncles, cousins. And hundreds more family friends and supporters of her dad’s policies. She squeezed her eyes tight but one tear seeped out, ran down her cheek.
Joe wiped it away with his thumb. He didn’t apologize for telling her the make of the weapons. Any website would tell her. She’d wiped it from her mind, but the reality didn’t change.
“In my dream they had guns, of all types. And swords. They hacked at people. I saw limbs being sliced off. What I think was a shotgun nearly took off the head of a man standing next to me. I’d been holding his arm, trying to get his attention, when all of a sudden I was covered in blood and brains.”
She twisted again to look at Joe. His face was expressionless but his dark eyes were warm. “None of this is real, though. From what I understand there were no swords. The lights went out immediately anyway and nobody could have seen anything. So it’s a nightmare that comes from my subconscious and not my memory. Do you see the difference?”
He nodded his head slowly.
“And then there was...him.”
“Who, Isabel?”
There was only one possible answer to that. An answer that came straight from the bottom of her soul. “Evil. Pure evil. A—a man. On the podium, staring at me. Only I couldn’t see his eyes, they were deep in shadow. And he had a huge mouth, full of teeth. It seemed like he had more teeth than a human should have...”
Isabel shut up. It sounded like she was describing a vampire, not a human. Some supernatural being. It was her subconscious ascribing monstrous qualities to him when the monstrosity was internal, not external.
“Sorry. He was...unsettling. And he smiled as his minions mowed people down. As if he were enjoying it. As if he were on the stage watching something that pleased him. None of the killers had a face, they were like devils, killing and killing. And yet some of the people in that big room still hadn’t understood what was going on, were still laughing and chatting, while others were being killed in the most horrific ways. And I couldn’t get them to listen, to pay attention. To run away. It was as if I were invisible. So I tried to get them to head for the exits but I couldn’t, and I slipped in the blood that was flowing and I tried to run harder...” She buried her face in her heads.
“And then I woke you up,” Joe said gently.
She nodded, her limbs shaking, a huge lump of something sharp in her throat.
Joe pulled the blankets up to cover her shoulders, rocking her gently, as you would a child.
At that moment, Isabel felt like a child. A child who’d seen the boogeyman and was terrified he’d come back.
Joe let her take her time putting herself back together again. He didn’t say anything, he just held her, rocked her. Finally, when she was calm again, he leaned down and spoke in her ear.
“You know, Lauren is a great artist. Do you think you could give her a description of this man, like you would to a police artist?”
Could she? “Maybe. But in my nightmare he was a monster. It wouldn’t be of any use to anybody.”
“You never know,” he said, his voice neutral. “If nothing else, it might rob him of his power in your subconscious.”
“Maybe.” Isabel hadn’t thought of it that way. She’d dreamed of the man almost every night, but when she woke up she could never remember what he looked like, only that he was cruel and evil. Brought darkness and violence in his wake. She’d fixed some elements of his face in her memory. She’d perhaps be able to talk Lauren through the drawing, even if the end result would probably look like a comic book villain. Manic and diabolical, like the Joker.
Joe nudged her gently with his shoulder again. “So we can plan that? Come to the office tomorrow morning and talk Lauren through the portrait?”
In the office. Talking about her nightmares in front of everyone. She suppressed a shudder. “I’d rather do it here.” Not let all Joe’s friends know about her craziness.
“I know, honey.” Joe’s voice was regretful. “But Felicity has her stuff there and we’re going to try to get back into contact with the guy—or the person who contacted us about you. Remember?”
God, yes. How could she have forgotten? So much had happened. “How does he know about me? And how does he know
I live here?”
“All questions we want answered,” Joe replied, voice grim. “If I had to make a guess, I’d say he’s CIA or ex-CIA. And I’d guess he knows something about the Massacre that doesn’t fit the narrative.”
Isabel felt her eyes grow wide. She turned again to look at him. “Something about the Massacre? Like what?”
“I don’t know. But I think he thinks you have some kind of key or intel about it.”
“Me?” Good God. “I don’t have anything, least of all what you call ‘intel’. I don’t even remember it. Plus how did he track me down to Portland? That’s creepy.”
“It wouldn’t be hard to track you down. You weren’t on the run or anything. Did you file to change your name from Delvaux to Lawton?”
Isabel nodded.
“There you go. That would be in the public record. You weren’t in hiding, you just wanted a fresh start. If this guy is CIA and is secretly investigating the Massacre, he’d start with the survivors. How many survivors were there?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if anyone has done an official count. I don’t know how many of the serving staff survived. Presumably some of them weren’t in the part of the building that collapsed. I think about thirty or forty people who were in the ballroom survived. But I’m not positive.”
“So maybe this guy is contacting them all.”
“But how would he know to get in touch with you?”
“It wouldn’t be that hard. Your new address is on record. He’d look at the other people on the street and I’d pop up. I’m a former SEAL, that’s on the record and I am on the record as an employee at ASI, which is a well-known company. Very aboveboard. He’d add two and two. Even if I didn’t know you well, it would make sense for him to contact me and ask me to keep you safe. Maybe he’s making his quiet way down the list of survivors. We’ll know soon enough. He’s asked for someone from the FBI to be in the office tomorrow.”
“The FBI?” This was getting more and more strange.
Joe slid down in the bed, taking her with him. She was on her side and he was curved around her.
He was also erect, but he wasn’t prodding her with it, or asking for sex. He kissed her shoulder gently. “I think we’ll be getting some answers tomorrow, but I also think you need to rest. It’s 4:00 a.m. and we should get up around 7:00, so that only gives you three hours to sleep. See if you can manage it.”
“I don’t think I can,” Isabel said, then yawned.
“Uh-huh.” Joe kissed her shoulder again. She could see his face above her, smiling down at her. “Just try. Close your eyes for a minute.”
Oh man, he didn’t know just how hard she tried to get back to sleep after a nightmare. It was impossible. She’d just lie awake, tense and frightened, until the sky outside her bedroom window started to lighten, and she’d get up to start another exhausting day.
“It doesn’t work.”
“Try,” he coaxed. “Just for a minute. For me.”
“Make me,” she said, her voice suddenly low, suddenly husky. In a flash, a switch had been thrown. That massive male body surrounding her, that enormous erect penis against her back...All those intense emotions evoked by the nightmare morphed in an instant to desire. There had never been another mechanism for her to deal with the aftermath of the nightmares before. Just silence and the endless hours of the night. But now—now there was the world’s greatest distraction wrapped around her.
“What?” Obviously Joe didn’t operate like she did, emotions flipping from one extreme to the other. He had to keep up.
Isabel turned her head to smile at the dark male face above hers. “I need help getting to sleep. So either you warm up some milk for me or make love to me. Your choice.”
He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them his gaze was fierce.
“Put like that,” he said. “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
He turned her gently on her back and mounted her. There was no other word for it. His hands were gentle. She could see the effort that gentleness was costing him in the taut tendons of his neck, but the movements were pure sex, pure animal. His thighs separated hers and he slid into her with an ease that astonished her. She was ready for him, though. Needed him, even, and her body knew that before her mind did.
And oh, God, when he entered her she was infused with heat and strength. Sex was this, too. Elemental, primal. Heat and power entering her as much as his body entering hers.
His mouth covered hers and he started moving and there was nothing but heat and blinding pleasure and the animal comfort of his body in hers.
Chapter Nine
“This doesn’t look like the right part of town for corporate headquarters,” Isabel said as they cruised through the Pearl.
She was right. It was a funky part of town, formerly full of warehouses and railroad yards and now gentrified but artsy. No high-rises, no corporate buildings.
“Just wait,” he said as he turned onto the street where the back entrance to ASI was. He didn’t want to say anything because he wanted to see how she reacted to the business’s premises.
“Okay.”
Joe shot her a glance. She looked rested. Thank God. That nightmare
had shaken him to the core. She’d been mewling and moaning, thrashing in the bed. It had been a monster nightmare. He’d kept calm but what she’d told him could only mean one thing. Her memories were returning in the form of dreams. Nightmares. And if Mystery Man was right, she was remembering something that was worse than a terrorist attack. Mystery Man wanted the FBI because he suspected homegrown terrorists. Worse. Homegrown terrorists who might be connected to the government. At least 9/11 had been carried out by foreigners.
And Isabel was smack in the middle of it. So Joe was not going to let her out of his sight until he had a clearer understanding of what the fuck this was all about.
He circled round a high redbrick wall until he came to a big gate and pressed the accelerator.
Isabel gave a half cry that was strangled as the gates slid open quickly. Every ASI operative had a special transponder installed in his or her vehicle. Joe loved it and loved that he was working for a cool company. Going to be working for a cool company.
“Magic.” He grinned as he drove into a well-ordered compound with parking spaces and a large, attractive brick structure to the side.
It was only faced with brick. It was actually made of steel and concrete and was unbreachable. Inside was the ASI armory and a spectacular thing it was, too. Besides weapons, it also held the very latest in military-grade gear. It was like their very own playground only made of steel, not sand.
But ASI was not the only company in the compound. Midnight’s wife, Suzanne, had a design company, too, so not only was the compound a gearhead’s wet dream, it was also spectacularly beautiful. Joe was sure they were the only aesthetically pleasing security company in the country.
“Wow.” Isabel looked around. “This is where you work?”
“Will work,” Joe grunted as he parked the car. “When they give me the go-ahead. And you haven’t seen anything yet.”
“Well this is already fantastic. There’s more?”
He just smiled as he exited the vehicle and helped her to the ground. He let her look around because it was worth it.
The vehicles and the armory were ASI, but everything else was Suzanne’s. What had once been the loading dock for her grandparents’ shoe factory was a carefully landscaped area neatly divided up by brick-lined sections of planters. There was a series of arches planted with climbing ivy, a small Zen garden, elaborate outdoor lighting, even a couple of stone benches around a little fountain.
Of course what the ordinary admirer wouldn’t see was the motion sensors, the NV and infrared vidcams hid in the greenery, the outer wall that was built in a way that would mitigate debris even in the case of a perimeter breach explosion...
As a matter of fact, Midnight and Suzanne were working together to provide extreme high-tech se
curity solutions that incorporated design elements, too. That business was starting to take off.
Joe touched a small key fob and the door to the building opened too.
He enjoyed Isabel’s pleasure at the sight of the long corridor. Being a chick, she’d probably appreciate it better than he did. All Joe knew was that he loved entering the building, loved the physical premises. If you put a blowtorch to his bare feet, he’d also admit to loving his teammates and his bosses.
He was one lucky son of a bitch.
Joe held out his arm and Isabel took it with a smile. It was like she was made to walk these halls, her natural habitat. She was as classy as the decor.
When they walked into ASI’s offices, Felicity and Lauren rose, smiling, and proceeded to make an enormous fuss over Isabel. The sounds of the women’s voices filled the room as Metal gave an ironic one-fingered salute with his index finger and Jacko refrained from giving his usual one-fingered salute, only with a different finger.
Suzanne had two big Thermoses of coffee and pretty mugs with roses waiting for them. The mugs were from her business, not Midnight’s. ASI had Game of Thrones and “Assassin’s Creed” and “Call of Duty” mugs.
Lauren and Isabel put their heads together. Isabel nodded and Lauren pulled out a big block of sketch pads. They sat in a corner talking quietly as Lauren started sketching.
Joe brought out his laptop and was setting it up when Nick Mancino walked in. He looked tired but alert, having flown across the country on the red-eye.
“Hey.” They fist-bumped and Mancino slapped the backs of Metal and Jacko and shook Midnight’s hand.
“Senior.” He shook the Senior’s hand. Joe and Mancino had gone through Hell Week together and the Senior had been the worst thing about it. He’d screamed in their faces constantly, seemed to live for giving them extra laps, had begged them to ring the bell signifying defeat, had been like Satan’s spawn himself...and then had bought them all beers after they slept thirty-six hours straight upon completing Hell Week.
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