She tried to speak several times before her vocal cords would respond. “No,” she whispered. “I left that same night. They put me on a plane for Boston. No one ever said anything to me about it.”
“Of course they didn’t,” he said. “Why would you ask?”
That hurt. It implied that she didn’t care, which was unfair.
But his eyes were haunted with old pain. How petty, to get huffy about semantics in the face of his loss. “I’m sorry. Kev was special.”
Sean silently inclined his head, accepting her words.
She gulped before asking the next question. “So, um, was it…”
“Suicide?” Sean jerked his chin. “So they say. Who knows?”
“And that stuff he told me? About the guys trying to kill him?”
Sean paused. “We never found any evidence that it was true.”
She took a moment to process that. “So it was…he was…”
“Yeah. Paranoid delusions. Persecution complex. Like our dad. That was the official conclusion, anyhow.”
The bitterness in his voice prompted her to ask. “And your own conclusion?”
“My own conclusion doesn’t count for shit. I keep it to myself.”
She could think of nothing to say. Or rather, she could think of many things, none of which were appropriate. Like grabbing him by the throat, yelling that he shouldn’t have gone through that without her.
Stupid bastard. Her throat tightened, like a fist.
“What the hell?” Blair was loping towards her, his face alarmed. “Liv! Are you OK? You look like you’ve been crying. Did he—”
“My eyes were watering,” she said hastily. “From the smoke.”
Blair handed her a handkerchief. When she came up for air, Sean and Blair were having a curiously hostile staring match.
“I’m surprised you have the nerve to show your face,” Blair said.
Sean’s eyebrows lifted. “I wanted to make sure Liv was OK.”
“Liv’s fine,” Blair said stiffly. “We’ve got her covered.”
“I’ll leave you in his capable hands, then,” Sean said to Liv. “Take it easy, princess.” He nodded politely at her, turned, and walked away.
Like a scene out of an old western. Broad-shouldered guy strides off into the sunset. Liv felt perversely abandoned as she stared at his retreating back.
Chapter 4
One foot in front of the other. Play it cool. Don’t look back.
Or he’d mash that lying piece-of-shit Madden’s nose into pulp. And then drag Liv off to a cave. He narrowly missed walking into a telephone pole. His mind was blank, hands shaking, stomach wonky.
Madden’s sticky, possessive vibe made him want to cave that arrogant prick’s head in with a rock. The shit-eating insect didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as Liv Endicott. Not that he himself did, either, but whatever. Fuck Blair Madden anyhow.
Wow. He thought he’d let that old anger go. After all, Blair’s amateur attempts to mess with him back in the old days had paled in significance compared to the real problems Sean had faced. That was the thing about the hammer blow of tragedy. It put the small stuff into perspective. And Madden was small. Like, scuttling cockroach small.
Keep it together. Impulse control. Actions have consequences.
The endless stern lectures from his father and brothers had clubbed into his head looped in his brain in a chaotic babble of mental noise.
Hey, he was trying. He’d controlled his impulses. Except for the impulse to come on to Liv. There were limits to a guy’s self-control. One lofty look from those big gray eyes turned him into a grunting caveman.
Maybe it was the sexpot cavewoman look that did it to him; the wild hair, the soot-smudged face, the notable absence of underwear.
The effect could only be improved by ripping the clothes off, pinning her down on a fur rug, and having at her like a wild beast.
God, she was fine. What a woman. Girl was too frivolous a word. The world was full of girls. His address book was full of their phone numbers. Girl was a category, a concept. A consumable.
The word woman had a different feel to it. It filled his mouth. Round, soft, mysterious. Unique, singular. Liv, grown up, filled out.
He had lots of photos, but Liv tended to wear big sweaters and long skirts in the winter and loose, baggy sundresses in the summer. A body like that had to be seen to be believed. She’d developed full, swaying tits. And that ass, those hourglass curves from waist to hip, Jesus. He’d thought she was perfect fifteen years ago, but nature had decided to go all out. Fudge sauce, whipped cream, nuts and sprinkles.
Those scanty clothes showed every tremor and sway. No wonder half the town was lined up to watch. He was an equal opportunity ravening wolf-pig when it came to female yumminess. He appreciated all colors, sizes and shapes, though he particularly went for lush curves.
But Liv was a different category of female beauty altogether.
It wasn’t just the way she looked, though she was drop dead beautiful. It was something intrinsic to her. Something so regal and proud. Dignified. Elegant to her bones. She took no shit off anyone. He felt like a dog on the furniture, unworthy to lick those tiny, arched feet, but slavering for it all the same. Bouncing like a puppy, tongue hanging out. He’d do anything to make her smile. Or better yet, get one of those smothered, giggling snorts. Scoring one of those was like winning the lottery. He’d gotten a few today. He was still jittery with triumph.
So his sweet talk still made her cheeks blush pink and her brights go on, ping. Raspberries, crowning those jouncing ta-tas. What a rush, to get the princess all hot and flustered using nothing but words.
That knife cut both ways, though. No coat, box or bag to camouflage his raging boner. He’d had the same problem the first time he saw her. He’d been working construction, and the crew had stopped dead when the boss’s daughter walked by. Gauzy skirt, tits bouncing under her prim blouse, cloud of dark curly hair, downcast eyes. Luminous, rose-tinted skin. No makeup. No need for it.
The whole package screamed “virgin.” Delicious, innocent, succulent virgin. Unaware of her power over men. She hadn’t even noticed the crew wiping the strings of drool off their chins. She just wafted along. On another plane. La la la.
He’d been naked to the waist, wearing boots, ragged jeans and a hard hat. Dripping with sweat, rank as a goat. No way in hell to hide his woody, not that it mattered. She didn’t notice him.
Her sandals had made tiny, dainty prints in the cement dust.
It had started out as a game, just getting that floating uptown angel to notice his raggedy-ass self. It swelled quickly into something hotter, wilder. He wanted to make her want him. He wanted to spirit her off into the woods. Lay her down on a bed of pine needles and rock lilies, peel off her panties and lash away at her delicious, candy-sweet girl body with his tongue until she was begging him to deflower her.
And he would oblige. Oh, yeah. He’d been dying for it.
That plan had backfired when he fell madly in love with her.
Kev had been pissed with him for going after a girl like Liv. She’s not the fuckbuddy type, he’d lectured. She’s gonna get hurt.
She won’t, he’d assured his worried twin. Hurting Liv was the last thing he’d ever do. He worshipped her. He was saving up for a diamond.
Thinking about Kev made this morning’s dream flash through his mind again. You’ve got to do something about Liv’s car, Kev had said.
Strange. He didn’t even know what kind of car she drove.
What a jolt, when she’d asked about Kev. For a split second, it was like Kev had never died at all. None of the bad stuff had happened.
Kev had gotten his doctorate, become a famous scientist, published papers, won prizes, patented amazing inventions, fallen in love, gotten married, had kids. The whole sequence of Kev’s hypothetical life played through his head in a blinding flash, whoosh.
And man, it hurt when reality came crashing back to displace it.<
br />
The sinkhole in his gut widened into a crater. He had to haul ass. Bursting into tears in downtown Endicott Falls was his idea of hell.
He’d always sucked at hiding his feelings. Macho stoicism was Davy’s specialty. Kev’s, too, in a lighter way. Davy’s stoicism had a steely weight to it, like Dad’s. Kev’s had been more like a zen monk’s calm. Like a reflecting lake. So mellow.
Christ, he missed Kev so bad. His throat felt like a burning coal.
He clenched his jaw, loping toward where his truck was parked. He was history. Miles was a grown-up. He could fend for himself.
You’ve got to do something about Liv’s car.
He wished he hadn’t interrupted Kev in the dream before he’d finished that sentence. Something was eluding him. Tickling his mind.
Our union will be explosive.
He wished he could look at T-Rex’s letter. The e-mails, too.
Stay away. The cops were all over it. Her folks had mountains of money. If anybody ever had her ass covered, it was Princess Liv.
The something’s-not-right feeling was swelling, bigger and badder. Fire ants in his head. Itching and twitching. What had T-Rex said? Burning in the fire of his passion? Our union will be explosive.
He’d stared at the twisted wreckage at the bottom of Hagen’s Canyon for hours, before they’d climbed down and hauled him away.
Our union will be explosive. Repeated in his head, pounding like a jackhammer. His brother’s body had been charred black. Carbonized.
“Hey! How’d it go?”
Sean jerked as if he’d been stung by a bee, but it was just Miles, coming out of the computer store, his eyes big with curiosity. “Did you see that girl? What did she say? Was she surprised to see you?”
Sean couldn’t speak for the pressure building inside him. He doubled over, pressed his hand against the sucking crater in his torso.
“Jeez. Are you OK?” Miles grabbed his shoulder. “Are you sick?”
He was going to hurl his coffee and sweet roll, right into the potted geraniums in front of Endicott Falls Fine Antiques and Collectibles. Oh, man, what a way to repair his social image.
Our union will be explosive.
He peered back through the haze of smoke. His eye fastened onto Liv’s graceful form. Blair Madden marched beside her, chest flung out.
Liv’s car. Burning. Explosive.
They split to walk around the battered pickup. That wasn’t a trophy vehicle a pompous dick like Madden would drive. Must be Liv’s.
Click. It fell into place. His panic released, like a coiled spring.
He took off towards that pickup like he had rocket launchers under his feet. He barely recognized that howling voice as his own. Time warped, like in combat. People flinched away as he pounded by. Madden goggled at him behind the windshield. Liv’s eyes were huge.
“Get away from that car!” he bellowed. “Get back!”
Liv froze, one foot already inside
Madden locked his door, lunged across the seat, grabbed Liv’s wrist to yank her in, the cretin. Fuck. Sean shattered the driver’s side window with a flying kick. He unlocked the door, wrenched Madden out.
The guy grunted as he hit the hot asphalt. Liv backed away ’til she hit the glass display window of Trinket Trove Gift Emporium.
“Get away!” he yelled, waving his arms at her and everyone else he could see. “Back! Farther! Now, goddamnit!”
Everyone obeyed. Nobody wanted to be near the howling psycho.
The keys were in the ignition. He popped the hood. Any movement could trip the bomb, but he had to take that risk upon himself. Nobody was going to believe him. He knew that from bitter experience.
He wasn’t even sure he believed it himself, but hell. He had no choice but to trust an impulse strong enough to make him practically blow chunks all over the spit-shined Endicott Falls shopping district.
He scanned the Toyota’s engine for bomb designs he was familiar with, but there were infinite variations, endless new strategies, and he’d never tinkered with the guts of an aging Toyota. He wouldn’t recognize a wire out of place if it bit him in the ass. He stared at it, stomach churning. He dropped to the ground, shimmied under the pickup on his back. Switched on the penlight on his keychain. Peered around.
A thrill of confirmation jolted his nerves. A wire wrapped around the drive train. Old classic. Easy to spot if you were looking for it, but why look? He poked around delicately. There it was. A wad of plastic explosives, molded between the gas tank and the truck body. If Madden had driven a few inches, the turning driveshaft would’ve pulled the trip, and ka-boom. He let out a jerky sigh. Tension drained out of him.
The smell of sunbaked asphalt tickled his nose. Scratches on his back began to sting. He stared at the destruction clinging to the belly of the truck, like a malignant growth. So close.
He wiggled out from under the Toyota. It took some eye-rubbing to recognize Officer Tom Roarke. The man had put on weight in fifteen years, but the hostility in his face was immutable.
Sean hardly blamed him. Punching an officer of the law in the face and restraining him with his own cuffs was a very undesirable course of action. Even in his wilder days, Sean had known that.
And all for nothing, in the end. He’d been too late to save Kev.
“Mr. McCloud, would you like to explain to me what you’re doing vandalizing Ms. Endicott’s car?” Roarke’s voice was as harsh as gravel.
“Verifying the presence of unexploded ordnance,” Sean replied.
Roarke’s face went blank. “Huh?”
Sean sat up. “Take a look,” he offered. “There’s plastic explosives around the gas tank. A wire around the driveshaft. Could be a decoy, though. Somebody could be watching with a remote detonater.”
“You’re kidding.” Roarke’s face went an odd, purplish shade.
“I wish I were. I suggest you evacuate this block right now.”
Roarke yanked his walkie talkie out of his belt. Sean turned, and found Liv standing in the street, way too close to her car. Miles, too, was wandering closer than he should, goggle-eyed and slack-jawed.
“Detonator?” she echoed faintly. “You mean…a bomb? In my pickup? But I drove it this morning. I parked it here at five A.M. It’s been right out here in public, all morning. How on earth—”
“Get the fuck away from the car, Liv. You, too, Miles. Move!” Weird, to hear his father’s drill sergeant voice coming out of his own mouth. It had no discernible effect on Liv, though. She didn’t bat an eye. Sean spun her around, and shoved.
“Get your hands off her.” It was Madden, his voice shaky and high. His face was wet with sweat. He grabbed Sean’s arm.
Sean just towed the guy along with them. “Let’s have this pissing contest out of blast range,” he growled.
“I’d like to know how you knew about that bomb, McCloud.”
Sean’s gut clenched. A lot of people were going to be unpleasantly curious about that. I had a funny feeling didn’t get you far when people were casting around for a scapegoat, and he made a kick-ass scapegoat.
He braced himself. “I had a hunch.”
“I see,” Madden’s voice heavy with scorn. “A hunch. How convenient and timely. You’re so obviously an expert, I’m surprised you’re not defusing this so-called bomb all by yourself, on the spot.”
“I probably could, but I won’t.” Sean kept his voice even. “Not without equipment, and backup. I’d do it off the cuff if somebody’s life depended on it, but given the choice, I’d rather call the EOD techs.”
Patrol cars began to pull up. People were trickling out of nearby buildings, scurrying away. Miles was hunched over his phone, ratting him out to his brothers. Then he saw Roarke and two other officers, marching towards him with grim purpose in their synchronized step, and an unmistakable look in their eyes. Oh, great. This rocked.
So he was ending up behind bars today, after all.
August the fucking eighteenth. It never failed.
/> “Will it hurt?”
Dr. Osterman threw a reassuring arm around the shoulders of the girl he was steering into his private examining room. He flipped on the lights, enabled the video cameras. “Not at all. X-Cog 10 will just enhance your neural activity, and the electrical stimulation will augment blood circulation to selected portions of your brain,” he lied smoothly.
Caitlin’s eyes widened, intrigued. “Cool.”
Osterman gave her a smile brimming with charm. “Basically, we’re trying to use more of your already remarkable brain potential.”
Caitlin gave him a world-weary smile. “There are lots of drugs that help you use more of your brain,” she said. “I’ve tried a bunch already.”
He chuckled. “No doubt, but my approach is more systematic. I hope to develop ways to treat learning problems, enhance academic performance, and ultimately, contribute to human evolution.”
“Wow,” she whispered, her eyes big.
Osterman experienced a flash of doubt as to whether this was worth the risk. Caitlin’s test results were only borderline. Off the charts compared to a normal teenager, and extremely talented artistically, but she was more or less mediocre by his own standards. On the plus side, her family profile was perfect. She was a product of the foster system. Behavioral problems, drug problems, no nosy parents to ask awkward questions when she disappeared. And he’d been waiting so long for a suitable test subject. Helix Group needed results, if he was to keep getting this lavish funding. Demonstrable, profitable results.
Osterman tilted her face up, noting the lovely bone structure. She had big, startled brown eyes. Her lips were shiny with flavored lip gloss.
“You’re special, Caitlin,” he said gently. “This project is important. I can’t trust the others the way I trust you. Do you understand?”
She blinked in the bright light. “Uh, OK.”
He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “You’re lovely,” he said.
Her eyes widened, startled. Osterman drew his hand slowly away. “I’m sorry, Cait,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have said that to you.”
Edge Of Midnight (The Mccloud Series Book 4) Page 5
