Silent Watch

by Elle Kennedy

  That her decision to stay upset him only told Sam that Blake Corwin was a good man. He wouldn’t risk her life, even if it meant letting the Rose Killer get away.

  And sure, she didn’t want to risk her life, either, but what other option did she have? To place women like Elaine Woodman in jeopardy? She knew the burden didn’t need to fall solely on her shoulders, but she still felt she needed to contribute to the investigation. If only to gain her own sense of closure.

  “What did you talk to Elaine about?” Blake’s quiet, husky voice broke through the brief silence. He moved over to the stool she’d just occupied and sat down, resting his powerful arms on the counter. Watching her.

  Her gaze flitted to his strong biceps. A part of her, a long-buried part, wondered how it would feel to be encircled by those big arms. How did he hold a woman? Gently, like she was a fragile piece of china? Or would his embrace be passionate, solid and unyielding, a man claiming the woman in his arms as his own?

  She bit her lower lip, disturbed by her thoughts. Absently she leaned against the counter and murmured, “Fear. We talked a lot about fear.”

  “Hers or yours?”

  “Both.” She exhaled shakily. “I showed her my scars.” Though Blake’s gaze remained on her face, she was still compelled to press her wrists to her sides, shielding the scars from him. “And then she…” Her voice finally broke.

  “Then she what?” Blake stood up and closed the distance between them. She thought he might reach out and touch her but he didn’t. Just stood in front of her, somber as always.

  “She took off her hospital gown and showed me her bandages.” She lifted her head, searched his face imploringly. “There were so many bandages, Blake. Why would he do that to her? Why didn’t he do that to me?”

  A wave of dizziness swept over her as she remembered all that white gauze on Elaine’s body. On her chest. Her breasts.

  Her legs. The horror Sam hadn’t let herself reveal then slammed into her now, making her knees wobble and her hands tremble violently. She didn’t even realize that she was crying until Blake drew her into his arms and she noticed her tears staining his shirt.

  He held her tightly, and her earlier unspoken question was answered. His grip was gentle. But solid.

  She pressed her face against the crook of his neck and cried, wondering why she wasn’t pulling back. She wasn’t supposed to feel sheltered in this man’s arms. In any man’s arms.

  She was supposed to be terrified by a simple touch, panicked by a mere look, but Blake’s touches, Blake’s looks, evoked none of that in her. They only brought warmth.

  And desire.

  “Don’t cry,” he murmured, running a large hand over her shoulder blades. “I promised you it would be all right, remember?”

  She inched back, not breaking their contact, but not sinking into it, either. “How can it be, when he’s still out there?”

  A lone tear slid down her cheek, but Blake brushed it away with his thumb before she could lift her hand. “I’m going to find him, Sam. I’m going to stop him, and that’s not a promise—it’s a guarantee.”

  His certainty hung in the air. He sounded so relentlessly convincing that she actually believed him.

  She tilted her head and saw his determined brown eyes, the firm set of his wide mouth, and as their gazes locked, the air in the kitchen swiftly changed. It hissed and sizzled, crackled like twigs under the sneakers of a morning jogger. She wanted to look away, to walk away, to make it stop, but she stood frozen in place. Waiting. Waiting for what?

  Unable to take her eyes off his mouth, Sam just watched as he leaned closer and closer, knowing what was about to happen and not doing a thing to stop it. She stared at his lips, saw them part, saw his pulse throbbing in his throat.

  Closer that gorgeous mouth came, and suddenly it was brushing over hers in the lightest of kisses.

  A tiny gasp tore from her throat, but he covered it with his lips and swallowed it with his kiss. A gentle kiss, the soft brush of his lips against hers, the teasing flick of his tongue. The spicy, masculine scent of him suffused her senses, making her woozy with desire. The fervor of her response stunned her. Her tongue greedily darted out to taste him. Her breasts eagerly rubbed against the hardness of his chest. Her entire body was overcome with sweet warmth. Nothing had ever felt as good as Blake Corwin’s kiss. And yet it was a controlled kiss, one that told her he was the type of man who’d never fully let down his guard, never succumb to the pleasures of the flesh before clearing it with his head.

  She wasn’t sure if it was that disturbing notion that made her pull back, or if it was the unfamiliar quickening of her pulse and the loud gallop of her heart. Whatever it was, she broke the kiss, stumbling back and watching him warily.

  The flush of his face, the lust-filled, slightly glazed look of his eyes, showed that he’d lost at least some control. He looked startled, blinking as if emerging from a hazy dream. As if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d done.

  His hands promptly dropped from her waist, but not before she felt them trembling. With a soft curse, he shook his head as if he were trying to shake the bewilderment from it. His voice was hoarse as he uttered, “I’m sorry.”

  Chapter 5

  Sam swallowed. Tried to make sense of what had just happened. Was she sorry?

  It quickly dawned on her that she wasn’t.

  Dammit, why not? Though she’d been the one to pull away, she found herself wanting to kiss him again, to taste his firm lips and lose herself in his powerful arms again.

  Not a soothing realization, not for a woman who’d months ago—days ago—cringed at the mere thought of having a man touch her. The attack had broken something inside her. Her trust, her faith, her ability to ever feel safe around a man. Yet here she was, staring at the rueful face of the man who’d just kissed her, and she not only felt protected but more turned on than ever.

  “I mean it, Sam. I’m sorry,” he said when she didn’t reply.

  She walked around the counter, wanting to put some distance between them as she absorbed the strange emotions swirling through her. “It’s all right.” She was shocked that she could keep her voice so steady when her pulse still wasn’t.

  His jaw tight, Blake rubbed his temples. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  The shame in his tone irritated her. “I had a part in it too, you know.”

  “I kissed you.”

  “I let you.”

  He let out a strangled groan. “I took advantage of a vulnerable moment.”

  He turned around and pressed his clenched fists on the edge of the sink. Shoulders stiff. Back wrought with tension.

  She averted her eyes. She didn’t want to see that look of shame still swimming in his eyes, not when she was feeling the furthest thing from ashamed. If anything, she suddenly felt liberated. For the first time in six months she’d let a man get close to her. Whether she fully trusted Blake Corwin she didn’t know, but the very fact that he’d been able to get within two feet of her, that she’d allowed him to kiss her, at least hinted that she was learning to trust again.

  “Sam, look at me.” His pained voice made her glance up. When she did, she saw that his control was back, that cool steady composure she’d begun to suspect was his trademark. “You’re probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

  Huh?

  She would’ve said thank you if it weren’t so damn obvious that there was a but coming.

  “And—I’m attracted to you.”

  She blinked in surprise. “You are?”

  “Were you not here for that kiss?” he grumbled.

  A small laugh slid out of her throat. “Were you not here for what happened after the kiss? Your bumbling apology and that spiel about taking advantage of me?”

  A flicker of amusement filled his gaze, but it faded fast. “Look, I won’t deny the attraction, but—” and there it was “—I also won’t act on it again.” He slowly unclenched his fists and let his hands dangle at hi
s side. Master of control.

  She lifted a curious brow. “Why not?”

  “Because I’m in the middle of a case.”

  “Isn’t that your job, to work cases?”

  “Yeah.”

  He was looking at her like she was a complete idiot, so she tried to rephrase. “I mean, you must work a lot of cases a year, probably one after the other, right?”

  Blake’s eyes grew wary. “Yes.”

  “So if you don’t get romantically involved with anyone while you’re on a case, and if you’re always on a case, then when do you get romantically involved?”

  He offered a faint smile. “Is that some kind of riddle?”

  “It’s a valid question,” she said in her defense. “When do you make time for your personal life?”

  “I don’t,” he said simply.

  “You don’t?” she echoed, dubious.

  He cast what looked like a self-deprecating smile her way. “I don’t do relationships well,” he admitted in a gruff voice. “Actually, I don’t do them at all. Not anymore.”

  “What happened to make you decide that?”

  “I lost the woman I was going to marry.”

  Since she hadn’t really been expecting an answer, his candor thoroughly surprised her.

  Before she could open her mouth to press for more details, Blake reassumed his professional demeanor. “It’s late. You should get some sleep.”

  “I’m not tir—”

  “Listen, Sam, I don’t agree with your decision to see Elaine again. But if you feel you need to, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that you are kept safe.” He offered a brisk nod. “Good night.”

  Disbelief poured into her like a gush of water. She watched in stunned silence as Blake disappeared into the darkened hallway.

  What on earth had just happened? One second he was kissing her, the next he was apologizing, and then he was gone. Just like that.

  She sagged back against the counter, listening to the troubling sound of Blake’s footsteps ascending the stairs. Her mouth still throbbed from his kiss and every muscle in her body was taut, coiled with anticipation that was obviously going to be left unsatisfied.

  Why had he kissed her? Why had he stopped? And why had he told her about losing the woman he’d loved when it was clearly something he didn’t like to talk about?

  Rubbing her forehead, she tried to push the questions from her mind, knowing that, like her desire, they wouldn’t be satisfied. And maybe that was for the best. Maybe she didn’t want to know about Blake’s lost love, or why he didn’t feel he could get involved again. Maybe what she really needed to do was take his lead and focus on the only thing that mattered right now: catching the madman who’d attacked her and putting an end to his reign of terror.

  And maybe—though this was a pretty big maybe—she might actually be able to go to bed without lying awake all night thinking about Blake’s kiss.

  When Sam walked into Elaine’s hospital room early the next morning, she found the young woman in tears.

  As heart-wrenching as that was, witnessing Elaine’s obvious distress only made Sam glad that she hadn’t listened to Blake’s suggestion about saving this visit for tonight.

  When she’d awakened, the very last thing she’d wanted to do was sit around Blake’s house all day, twiddling her thumbs while she waited for night to fall so she could see Elaine. Blake had tried talking her out of it, but in the end she’d convinced him that the morning visit wouldn’t be the end of the world. She hadn’t been comfortable on her way up to Elaine’s room, dodging nurses and visitors in the halls, but now she was happy that she hadn’t listened to Blake’s objections.

  She wasted no time rushing to Elaine’s side.

  Without hesitation she pulled Elaine into her arms, gently stroked her brown hair, and murmured, “It’s okay. Tell me what happened.”

  Elaine simply whimpered and clutched at the corner of the newspaper as if it were a lifeline she couldn’t let go of.

  Pulling back, Sam reached for the box of tissues on the bedside table and handed one to the young woman. “Please, Elaine. Tell me what’s got you so upset.”

  Elaine wordlessly handed her the newspaper, which was open to the wedding announcements. The top of the page displayed a photograph of a young, smiling couple. The caption read Charles and Davis to marry.

  Sam looked up, questioning. “Do you know him?” She glanced again at the handsome blond man in the picture. Matthew Charles.

  “My ex-boyfriend.” Elaine’s voice was scarcely above a whisper. “We broke up a few months ago. It was before the…attack.”

  “And he’s getting married. Is that why you’re upset?”

  Elaine sniffled. “I know I shouldn’t be. After all, we broke up. But I never stopped loving him. I just needed to focus on my new job for a while. He didn’t take it well, started dating another girl pretty soon afterward.” Her gaze drifted to the attractive blonde in the photo. “I was thinking of calling him about a week before…the attack…but I was scared that he and his new girlfriend might be serious. I guess they were.”

  Sympathy bloomed in Sam’s chest. Though she couldn’t say she’d ever truly been in love, she did know what it was like to care deeply about someone. She could just imagine how Elaine felt now, dead to all who knew her, seeing a past love moving on with his life when she couldn’t do the same.

  “It’s not as if I want him back.” A bitter scowl creased Elaine’s delicate mouth. “After what happened to me, I don’t expect another man to ever want me.”

  Sam quickly cupped Elaine’s chin and forced her to look at her. “Don’t say that,” she ordered. “You’ll fall in love again.”

  “Who’s going to love me?” Elaine laughed harshly and lowered the sheet covering her body. All that gauze instantly sent a piercing shot of pain to Sam’s heart. “I’m damaged.”

  “You’re not damaged.” Sam’s voice wavered. “I don’t want to ever hear you say that.”

  It became hard for her to breathe, especially when the words coming out of this young woman’s mouth were the exact words Sam had uttered not so long ago. Nobody will ever want me. I’m tainted. I’m damaged goods. That’s what she’d told Annette Hanson, what she’d believed for months after the attack. Normal thoughts to have, she knew that. Being attacked and left for dead did that to a girl.

  Elaine had every right to feel the way she did. Hard as it was to admit—and it made her guilty as hell even thinking it—Elaine had it worse than her. Sam had thought that one rose on her body, that stark evidence of being branded, would be enough to send any man running. But Elaine had a lot more scars. So many that Sam wondered if the girl would ever meet someone willing to look past the damaged shell and appreciate the courageous beauty inside.

  “I wish I’d died that day,” Elaine whispered. “Do you ever wish that?”

  “I did at first,” she admitted. “I was so angry, lying there in the hospital. I went back and forth from self-pity, thinking I was better off dead, to self-hatred, blaming myself for what happened.”

  “How could it have been your fault?”

  “It wasn’t.” She smiled faintly. “But at the time, I thought it was. I left my bedroom window unlatched. That’s how he got in.”

  “He attacked you in your house?”

  Sam nodded. “I got back from a party, still in my slinky red dress, a little tipsy, too. I had no clue that anyone was in the house. No clue. But when I went up to my room—” she sucked in much-needed oxygen “—he was there. Waiting. He even said hello.”

  Her throat suddenly burned with vicious-tasting acid and she feared she might throw up. Hello. She could still hear that raspy male whisper, eerily calm in the darkness of her bedroom as he slid up behind her and reached a hand around to press a knife to her throat. Her first thought was that she was being robbed, and she remembered saying, “Take whatever you want. Just don’t hurt me.”

  And he’d laughed.

  “He. Laugh
ed.” She gritted her teeth so hard she feared she’d break her jaw. “He told me he didn’t want my belongings, but that I’d pay. And the funny thing—” she chuckled callously “—I never thought to ask what I was paying for.”

  She heard Elaine sniffle again, and when she glanced over, she saw that the tears had returned. “He said that to me,” the girl murmured, her face growing pale. “He told me I’d pay.”

  It took a second to realize that, for the first time, Elaine was talking about what had happened to her. That small detail made Sam forget all about her own pain, made her own tragedy take a back seat and reminded her why she was here.

  “What else did he say?” she asked, trying not to push.

  Elaine wiped the tears from her eyes. “He told me if I made a sound, he’d slit my throat. He had a knife, so I believed him.” She paused. “I was in the underground parking lot of my office, about to go on my lunch break. A coworker had wanted to walk down with me, but I laughed and said Bob the security guard would kick anyone’s butt if they tried to mess with me. Bob sits in the lot all day, making sure everything’s okay.” She shook her head, looking betrayed. “He wasn’t there that day.”

  From the bare details Blake and Rick had provided, Sam knew that the security guard had been knocked unconscious and was out cold in his booth when Elaine had been taken.

  “He came up behind me and told me to be a good girl, and then there was something over my mouth. A rag, and it smelled sweet.” Elaine took a long breath. “That’s all I remember in the garage. When I came to, I was blindfolded and gagged and my hands and feet were bound. I think he put me in the back of a van, but I don’t remember seeing one in the parking garage.”

  “Did he talk to you at all?”

  Elaine shook her head. “I heard the radio playing, but it was kind of muffled, like there was a partition or something. And I kept smelling…” She drifted off.

  “What did you smell?”

  “I’m not sure.” Elaine bit her lower lip, confusion marring her face. “Something fruity and flowery. I couldn’t place it. I still can’t. But sometimes when I wake up I think I smell it. It makes me sick.” Her blue eyes flashed. “He makes me sick.”