Midnight Caller

by Rebecca York

  “No.”

  “But you felt the need to get out of bed—to get away from me.”

  “No!” she protested, even as she struggled against a kind of sick disloyalty. Pivoting toward him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face tightly to his chest. “No.”

  She could feel the beating of his heart, the pace faster than normal. “I had a nightmare. It woke me up, and I needed a drink of water. Then I thought I’d wake you if I got back into bed.”

  “Nice try.”

  “It was just a dream.”

  “About what?”

  She didn’t want to tell him, but she sensed she was only making things worse by resisting his questions. “A man was chasing me across wide green lawns—with a castle in the background.”

  “The man who attacked you?”

  “At first I didn’t know who it was. I was just trying to get away. I was running and running, looking for you. Finally I saw you near the garage and I knew I was safe.” She stopped, swallowed hard.

  “And?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know. Something made me look back, at the man who was chasing me. And it was you, too,” she finished with a hitch in her voice.

  He didn’t move away, but he shifted his body, staring over her shoulder into the night. “I guess we can figure out what it means,” he said, his voice as flat as glass. “Even if you don’t know why you came here, your subconscious is trying to let you know you’re supposed to be afraid of me.”

  “No!”

  “Do you have a better explanation?” he demanded.

  “Glenn, don’t jump to conclusions. I can’t control my dreams, and I can’t tell you where they come from.”

  “Nightmares come from hidden fears and concerns. A child might dream that his parents have driven away from Aunt Sally’s and left him there. That’s because he’s subconsciously afraid it might happen.”

  “Are you playing psychiatrist?”

  “It was part of my medical training,” he countered.

  “What did you have—one course in psychiatry?”

  Though he shrugged, she knew she had hit the mark. Still, the victory was hollow. Taking him by the shoulders, she raised her eyes to his. “We don’t know what my dreams mean. But we can make other inferences. Obviously I’m a woman who’s very cautious about forming relationships with men. I’ve finally—” She stopped, afraid to give too much away, yet desperate to make him understand how deep her feelings went. Risking everything, she went on. “I’ve finally fallen in love with someone wonderful, and I’m afraid that it’s all going to blow up in my face. Like, maybe when you find out who I really am, you won’t want me.”

  When she stopped, there was absolute silence in the room. She stood there with her heart hammering, waiting for him to speak. When he didn’t, she let her hands drop to her sides and took a step back.

  Before she could get away, his muscular arms caught her and pulled her against his body, holding her so tightly that she had to struggle to suck in a full breath.

  “Meg,” he growled. “Don’t you know I started falling under your spell that first night I took care of you in the medical wing? God knows, I fought it.”

  “I know.”

  “Fighting it didn’t stop me from loving you.” He swallowed hard. “I didn’t have the guts to tell you. That’s why I was glad to have excuses to stay away from you. Like the lab experiment.” His hands stroked possessively over her back and shoulders, pulling aside the collar of his shirt so he could touch her naked flesh.

  “You didn’t trust me.”

  “I couldn’t afford to!”

  “I understand that. Thank you for trusting me now,” she breathed, awed by the implications.

  “Maybe it’s too late. Maybe it was always too late.”

  “Don’t say that Our situation is complicated. But it’s not impossible,” she insisted. “If two people love each other, they can work it out.”

  “How?” He gave a short bark of a laugh. “Nobody is more cautious about relationships than I am. I’ve felt I couldn’t have a personal life until I solved the problem with K-007. Then you showed up here—such a strange combination of strength and vulnerability, questions and wisdom. You were like no one I had ever met. And all the walls I’d built around myself—all my defenses—came tumbling down. Do you know how much that frightens me?” he asked in a tight voice.

  “I think so. You’re a man who needs to know he’s in control. And there’s no way to control this situation.”

  “I want to hold on to you—forever. I keep thinking that I won’t be allowed to keep you.” She heard him swallow again. “That something terrible will happen—that you’ll wake up and realize this was all a mistake.”

  “Glenn, I’ll always be here for you,” she said, giving him the only answer she could.

  “You can’t know that. You have another life—somewhere.” His hands clenched her shoulders. “Worse, you don’t know what our relationship was supposed to be. You don’t know who you are or why you came to my castle. Suppose we’re sworn enemies?”

  “How could we be, when…when we love each other?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. That’s the worst part—I don’t know.”

  She had no answers to give him. All she could do was lift her head, find his mouth with hers.

  He made a low sound of need as his lips began to move over hers and his hands began to stroke her body. When he pushed the shirt out of the way and cupped her breasts, she arched into his caress, wordlessly telling him how his touch affected her.

  They cleaved to each other, ravenously taking and giving everything there was to give.

  Swinging her into his arms, he carried her back to the bed. When he lowered her to the mattress and covered her body with his, she locked her arms around him and held tight—as if she could bind him to herself for all time by the physical act of making love.

  They made love fiercely, passionately, desperately. But when it was over and they lay panting in each other’s arms, she knew that they hadn’t solved their basic problem. Though they might love each other, there was no way to deal with the unknown future—until it reached out and grabbed them.

  BLAKE CAREFULLY CHECKED his Beretta. He also checked the special equipment in his pack. Then he strode out of his quarters and down the still-darkened corridor. He could have stopped in the mess hall for a cup of coffee, but he knew his face would give him away if any of the men he’d talked to last night were waiting for him. So he went directly to the main door of the staff quarters.

  It was the end of the night shift, and the guard at the door snapped to alertness as he saw the security chief coming.

  “Sir.”

  Blake acknowledged the terse greeting and strode through the door.

  Outside, the sun was just a promise behind the wall of eastern mountains. He turned in the opposite direction and started for Little Falls Summit, where he’d already been the day before, making preparations.

  Resisting the urge to glance behind him, he walked resolutely forward. Yet his ears strained for any hint that he was being followed. He kept imagining a target pinned to the back of his jacket, and his body jerking as a bullet tore through his flesh.

  But it wouldn’t happen within sight of Castle Phoenix, he told himself. Whoever was out to get him wouldn’t risk a shot where he could get caught.

  Of course, his speculations could be all wrong, he suddenly realized. It might not be one of the overt troublemakers. There could be a mole who’d slipped through the security checks and gotten himself on staff. In that case, he might not want to give himself away by drilling a hole in the security chief’s back.

  Blake gave a mirthless laugh. He’d thought he was walking into certain ambush. But maybe it wasn’t going to happen—which put him in the strange position of hoping somebody really was going to try and nail him when he rounded the first bend in the trail—or the second.

  THE SHRILL RINGING OF
THE phone penetrated Meg’s sleep. Glenn’s body was already shifting as he reached across her and snatched up the receiver.

  This time through the window she could see streaks of dawn tinting the sky a brilliant pink.

  “Bridgman.” After listening for several seconds, she heard him make an angry exclamation. “That was taking a pretty big risk,” he growled.

  The person on the other end of the line kept talking, with Glenn’s shoulders getting more and more tense as he asked brief questions and listened to the answers.

  Meg’s own anxiety level escalated as she did her best to interpret what she could hear. When Glenn hung up, she looked at him questioningly. “Who was that?” she asked, pretty sure she could guess the answer.

  “Blake.” He confirmed her guess. “He wants both of us to come to the security center.”

  Even though she’d been mentally preparing for some new revelation, Meg felt every muscle in her body go rigid. “He’s dug up something about me?”

  “No. He thinks he’s captured the man who attacked you last night. He wants you to see if you can make an identification.”

  She forced her voice to steadiness. “How did he capture him?”

  “He suspected that one of his own men was out to get him, so he set up a situation where the guy would come after him.”

  Meg tried to read between the lines. “He put himself in danger?” she asked, no longer able to keep a quaver out of her voice. “For me?”

  “For the project,” Glenn corrected.

  Right. The project. How silly of her.

  When she started to ask another question, he waved her to silence. “We’re wasting time. There’s another bathroom down the hall. See how fast you can get ready.”

  She gave him a quick nod, taking in the tightness of his jaw as he stood and started for the door. In the few minutes he’d been on the phone, she’d sensed him withdrawing from her.

  And he had just walked out of the room as if the night before had never happened—save for the box of condoms that was still sitting on the bedside table. Quickly she stuffed them into the drawer, lest the orderly or whoever took care of his room found them. Then another thought struck her, and she pulled back the covers. A red stain marred the white bottom sheet.

  Her face flaming, she was stripping away the evidence when a hand covered hers. Glancing to the side, she saw that Glenn was standing behind her, staring at the bed. Unable to meet his eyes, she pulled the sheet loose and rolled it into a ball.

  He clasped her shoulder, then turned her to him and held her close, the sheet wadded between them. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “For what? Are you sorry you let me seduce you?”

  “The virgin seductress!” he said. “No, I’m sorry for being curt with you just now. I’m upset. And I’m not used to…to thinking about the effect of my words.”

  “I know. I saw your reaction to that call.”

  He held her more tightly, then all too quickly eased away and gestured toward the bed. “Let me help you.”

  Taking the stained sheet from her hands, he stood looking around the room, then crossed to the dresser and stuffed the evidence into the back of his bottom drawer. He disappeared again and returned with fresh linen. Together they remade the bed. When they had finished, he stood regarding her gravely.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  For a moment he didn’t answer. Then his hands spread in a helpless gesture. The look on his face melted her heart, and she moved toward him swiftly.

  “You’re worried about the guy Claymore caught, aren’t you? You’re thinking he’s some kind of agent sent to infiltrate your security force.”

  His tight nod told her what she wanted to know.

  “And you’re afraid that it will turn out that he and I have something to do with each other. That we’re part of some conspiracy to…to wreck Castle Phoenix.”

  He gave a shuddering sigh, his eyes searching hers. “How do you know I’m thinking all that?”

  “Unfortunately, the idea leaped into my head when Claymore was talking to you on the phone. Of course, that doesn’t explain why the guy in custody decided to kill me. But maybe he has an answer for that, too.” She straightened her shoulders. “So let’s go down there and face the music.”

  “Meg, you don’t have to go with me,” he said suddenly.

  “Yes, I do. Because I want to find out his motives as much as you do.”

  “Thank you.” He gave her hand a squeeze, then left her to get dressed.

  She took a quick shower in the bathroom down the hall, dried her hair, and pulled on the first clothes that her hands encountered. Her reflection in the mirror over the sink caught her attention, and she stopped to study her face—trying to see if there was any evidence of the night’s activities.

  When another face appeared over her shoulder, she looked up and met Glenn’s gaze.

  “Do I look any different?” she asked.

  “Yes. More beautiful,” he said, his expression amorous and intimate.

  The words and the way he said them brought a brightness to her eyes and a flush to her cheeks. The pleasure and the warmth faded as she saw his features harden. Trying to keep her own expression calm, she looked at him questioningly.

  “Meg, you and I—” He stopped, swallowed. “What happened between us last night has to stay private.”

  “I understand,” she said automatically, stiffly.

  Catching her shoulders, he pulled her gently backward so that she was resting against his chest. Then he bent and moved his cheek against the side of her face. “No, you don’t. If the two of us act like lovers, the news will be all over this place before lunchtime. And a lot of the men here will assume you seduced me. They’re already worried that you’re a danger to me—and to our primary mission. If they think you’ve got some hold over me, they’ll be hostile to you.”

  “They’re already hostile toward me. I saw that when I was outside with you—just before the dog attack.”

  “Yes. It’s possible that could explain the motives of the man Blake has in custody.” His hold on her tightened. “I don’t want anything else to happen to you. So we have to pretend our relationship hasn’t changed.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, her voice cracking. She understood his reasoning, but she didn’t like it.

  As she turned toward the hall, he kept his hand on her arm. “I don’t like playing games with my orderly. But I put a sheet and blanket on the couch and made them look like somebody had slept there.”

  “You or me?” she asked. “Just in case we need to keep our stories straight.”

  “Me. I’m always the gentleman.” He turned her in his arms, and brought his lips down to hers for a quick but ardent kiss. When he drew back, she caught a flicker of indecision in his expression.

  “You want to tell me something else?” she whispered.

  He shook his head. She suspected he wasn’t telling her the truth, yet she didn’t press him. That would only make things worse.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she made her expression flat. “We’d better go.”

  He looked relieved, then swung away from her. When he opened the door, she saw the wisdom of his advice.

  The guards standing in the hall snapped to attention, yet she could tell they were looking at the two of them with keen interest. So she kept her head down and stayed several paces behind Glenn as he strode toward the security center—her chest tightening as they got closer. She’d told herself she could do this. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  Still, when a haggard General Dorsey wheeled himself around the corner, she raised her head and met his scrutiny with as much bravado as she could muster.

  Glenn went quickly toward the older man and squatted beside the wheelchair, bringing himself down to his eye level. “How long have you been up?” he asked.

  “Since Blake brought in Sparks.”

  Sparks. That was his name, she thought. At least it didn’t sound familiar.


  “You didn’t need to come down here,” Glenn was saying to the older man.

  The general waved his gnarled hand dismissively. “I couldn’t sleep, anyway.”

  Glenn sighed. “So give me your impressions.”

  “It looks like he’s cracked under the strain of working for us,” Dorsey said, his voice etched with regret.

  Meg watched them talking in a kind of shorthand that left out nonessential details, watched the easy give-and-take and the affection between the two men.

  When the general’s head came up so he could give her an extensive inspection, she froze. His gaze swept over her, and she imagined he was assessing her posture, her expression, the color of her complexion—which deepened as his eyes lingered. She felt as if she had a sign on her forehead advertising the night’s activities, and it took all her willpower to stop herself from moving closer to Glenn. Instead she stood where she was—alone.

  “Did you sleep well?” the general asked.

  “As well as could be expected,” she answered, keeping her voice and her eyes steady.

  “Let’s stick to business,” Glenn snapped.

  Meg turned toward him, seeing the repressed anger in his face, in his posture.

  “Fine,” Dorsey agreed. “But we want to collect as much information as possible.”

  “Such as?” Glenn asked.

  Dorsey held his gaze. “Such as whether you’re retaining the proper perspective, here.”

  The jarring comment hung in the air, and Meg felt her stomach go into a painful spasm.

  “I always maintain the proper perspective,” Glenn said, punching out every word to emphasize the point.

  The two men stared at each other, Glenn daring his friend to make another personal remark. Instead, he swung his chair around and gestured toward the interrogation room. “You might as well see what you think.”

  Meg stood immobile as Dorsey rolled himself away. The wounded look on Glenn’s face made her want to scream at the man in the wheelchair to turn around and face them. He had hurt Glenn; she could see it in his eyes, and she couldn’t stand to watch. Moving to his side, she risked a brief touch to his arm.