Jaron opened the door. Rain moved, dreamlike, down the hall. They were on the first floor, like her parents had been. Out into the wind she stepped without breaking stride. Rain looked to her left and moved toward her old apartment building.
They were both soaked after a few feet. Lightning crashed overhead and Jaron heard Rain whimper. Her breathing increased. She reached her old building. The look on her face was total confusion—then panic. Jaron lunged for her when Rain bolted.
Damn. Through the alley she sped, turning and twisting, staying a hairsbreadth in front of him. She leaped over cans and cardboard. Her fingers trailed through left out old clothing sitting on sagging lines. There was oddness to the way she was fleeing from him. Her actions were controlled, rehearsed—or remembered. She was suddenly in a heap on the ground. Jaron stopped dead, almost tripping over her in his haste to keep up.
Holy shit, she's fast.
Rain's hands fisted as though grabbing something—no, someone. It didn't take much for Jaron to remember. Those few moments were embedded into his very soul.
This was the same path Rain's mother had fled trying to escape Carver. The woman had stumbled on this spot and dropped Rain. Both woman and child had cried out. Rain's body arched and her hands dragged up her sides. Rain's mother had been shot in the back. Thankfully the bullet had lodged and not gone straight through her into Rain's tiny body. With her precious child clutched to her breasts, Rain's mother had staggered as Rain now staggered forward. She'd had courage, Rain's mom. Jaron had watched from a distance, hiding in the shadows; he had been so scared.
No one had helped Rain's mother. Curtains had been closed; open doors had banged shut. The determination to save her child's life had moved Jaron in a way nothing ever had. But the woman had been mortally wounded. She was slowing dying.
Rain danced the song of the dead. Her small feet moved like gentle feathers on a soft current. She lifted a hand to stroke against her breasts as one would shush or comfort a child. She twisted as though to peek at her assailant. Rain was moving death—her actions so meticulously slow it was pitiful. Until finally, down she went in a graceful surrender. There was poetry in her motion when Rain danced. Her tale was gripping, and he felt his heart in her clutches.
Rain was lying now, facedown in the alley, gasping. She lifted her head; her elbows wobbled and almost buckled beneath her. When she rose Jaron knew it was Rain the child. Lost and alone she flittered from her dead mother's side, looking back, willing her mother to rise. Rain's hair was dripping over her face; her shirt was saturated and molded to her skin. His boxers shaped to her slim hips showing off beautiful legs and a rounded behind.
When she turned to look at him she was terrified. A childlike expression of innocence and loss made his heart hurt. Instinctively he knew whatever possessed her to dance had now lost its hold; she was wide-awake. Her eyes were pleading with him to help her. She lifted her hand and she reached for him. Her fingers trembled. Jaron stepped from the shadows just like he had eighteen years ago. Rain stepped into his arms. She clung to him and he swore he could feel her relief. Jaron turned her and shielded her from the storm.
~ * ~
"You left me all alone," Rain muttered.
Jaron lifted his hand and cupping her chin he tilted her face up to meet his gaze. "I left to save your life."
"I was so scared," Rain said. Jaron wasn't lying; she remembered. She'd remembered everything while she had danced. Back through time her mind had taken her. Everything had been so vivid—so real. But would the person she sought be there in the shadows? "Daddy was dead; my mother was lying in a pool of blood that ran right past me. You were holding me, next you vanished. It was hours before they found me. I couldn't speak for days after."
"Why, Rain? Why didn't you ever say anything?"
"Because you weren't real," she muttered.
"What?"
"You weren't real." Her hand rose to cover her mouth for mere seconds before continuing. "You vanished and Grams said an angel watched over me that night. I thought you were an angel."
"But you got older, you had to know. I met you when you were a baby. You knew me," he said desperately.
"After I convinced myself you were an angel, I blocked everything else out. I wasn't allowed to see any papers or news; we didn't have a TV. We had moved within days after it happened. I was in shock. One moment we were in the city, the next in the country, and everything was so different. Everything in my world was different. My parents were dead, my home burned, my friends gone. Even my surroundings had been taken from me.
"It took forever for Grams to teach me that squirrels weren't rats. At first I was too terrified to go outside. I had never seen a cow up close, or a horse. I had never seen so much grass; suddenly the pavement was replaced by green and not black and it felt strange under my feet, softer. The smells were different. A car's exhaust was replaced with manure and hay. Rain had a certain odor when all along I thought it was just wet and damp and moldy. My father said he named me Rain because it was so beautiful, so fresh. He always said if innocence had a texture, it would be a single clear, clean raindrop. I didn't believe him until we moved.
"It was so quiet at night. No cars, no sirens to help me remember. Just grasshoppers chirping—I'd never heard so many. It was like a song and it made my emotions dance. The air was so sweet, at times Grams left my window open and didn't have it nailed shut. And the birds—the beautiful birds. Not a single pigeon. There were no alleys to run through. No fences to climb on and rip my pants. It was so open it was spooky. There were places I could walk where I heard no voices, no baby's cry, no people yelling or fighting or living.
"After a while my old life was like a dream. A dream that slowly slips away. I never told anyone about you being there that night. It wasn't Grams' fault. She just kept saying over and over an angel watched out for me, until I was positive. When I said yes, one did, they thought I was repeating what she said. I couldn't make the words to elaborate. I didn't even remember your name; your face was a blur. All I could see of you that horrible night was lightning that lit up your features for mere seconds. Then your back as you ran away."
Her jaw quivered when she gazed up into his dark eyes. "I'm so sorry, Jaron. I'm so sorry I blocked everything out. At night I heard a voice calling me. A panic-filled howl of such fear. Calling until I put a pillow over my ears."
"I yelled for you when the cops took me away in the rain. You never answered."
"Every time it storms I look for you, I know that now," Rain muttered. "Every night you haunt me. But when the thunder booms I hear the screams instead, the sounds of gunshots. When lightning flashes I see the fire and I need to run, to escape. I need to find…you. My God, all this time I've been looking for you in the shadows."
Rain felt him turn her toward the apartment building. She went willingly. Patches of memory like a fast-fleeing dream slipped around her brain, only this time they settled and didn't disappear. Jaron had bought her ice cream when they were little. They would sit on the front stoop. When a car would drive by he would tell her the color and spell the word, making her repeat it.
When they entered the apartment Jaron locked the door. Rain drifted to the couch. She felt dazed and weak. She was grateful for the towel he tossed at her and even more grateful for the glass of water he handed her. She was so parched she felt dehydrated. When she gazed up at him it was in awe. She had no fear of him. Jaron had taken care of her when her parents worked and Grams and Papa were busy. Jaron had made beans when they were young that he had opened and cooked in the can on the stove in a pot of water. Jaron had taken care of her. No wonder he hated her. He felt Rain had betrayed him, but she hadn't. It was just such a tragedy, and she had been so young.
Rain looked over at him when he sat beside her. She felt awful and for a second wanted to run from the rage she was certain to see in his eyes, but she was no coward. When she tilted her head to meet his gaze she saw small drops of rain dribble from his dark hair. Richl
y dark eyes were centered on her. It wasn't hate she saw. She had hurt him.
"I loved you," she whispered.
Why had she blocked his memory? Because he left me alone; he abandoned me. One moment she was safe in his familiar arms, the next he was gone, leaving her alone in that frightening, dark place. She had suffered through the loss of both parents; she just couldn't deal with another loss.
When the storms came she searched for him, always waiting for him to step out of the shadows. Jaron had always been in her subconscious thought. No wonder Telor hadn't been able to give her what she needed. Poor Telor—his rival was a ghost of a memory.
"Jaron," Rain said, her voice quiet, "I can't change the past, but I can tell them, the authorities, what really happened that night. I don't know what good it will do now. But I need to know if Papa made it out of the fire alive…and my…friend could have been killed."
Jaron seemed to think it over. He pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. After dialing and placing the phone to his ear, Rain heard him ask a simple question. He snapped his phone shut after saying he would be in touch.
"You called Carver," she whispered.
He didn't deny it. "Everyone got out alive."
Rain closed her eyes in relief. He could be lying but she doubted it. "What happens now?"
"Do you know what Carver wants?"
Rain looked deep into his eyes. "No."
Jaron began pacing. Rain realized he wasn't the same little boy she had adored. This Jaron was a grown man who had done hard time because of her. How much revenge did he want?
Chapter Seven
Rain studied Jaron as he paced. Anger had clouded her vision toward him. Now he seemed too familiar. He didn't quite seem the big bully she'd imagined him to be. Jaron had striped his wet shirt off and hung it over a chair to dry. His runners squeaked when he walked across the wood-tiled floor. Jaron had grown into a very powerful man. She supposed he would have had to, to survive prison. Fifteen years was a long time—half his life.
When he turned she saw the handle of the gun peeking out the back of his pants. Not once had he held it on her. He'd also said he didn't start the fire—strangely enough she believed him. His back was broad and solid muscle. The jeans he wore hugged his hips.
Rain gave herself a shake. How could she be attracted to a man who had kidnapped her? A lot had happened in the eighteen years they had been apart. She couldn't help it; every time she had danced it had been him she was waiting for—hoping for. She loved Telor; she was positive Telor loved her. Then why did her heart flip when Jaron looked at her?
Jaron flopped into a chair. His head dropped into his hands. When he looked up his eyes were tortured. Rain was drawn to him. She knelt before him and took his hands.
"Would it have been easier if I said I didn't remember, or didn't care?" she asked.
"I saw you dance, at the studio and tonight," he said. "Tonight you looked at me with the same dark eyes I remembered. You followed me everywhere when we were kids. I felt so betrayed, so hurt. But still…"
"You loved me," she whispered. No wonder he looked so tortured. When he hated her it had been easier for him. "Jaron, I…"
"Just go," he snapped suddenly.
Rain was so startled with his vehemence she almost fell backward. "Go where?"
"Leave, go home." His voice had grown louder, and he narrowed his eyes on her dangerously.
Every day Jaron must have thought about her. Just like Rain had thought of him. She'd known somewhere in her mind that he existed. Rain stood up; her gaze drifted from him to the door. She should leave before he changed his mind. But in the recesses of her mind she knew he wasn't a killer back then anymore than he was now.
Thunder crashed. Rain was still damp from being out in the storm. A flash of lightening lit the sky. For a moment Rain thought she saw movement.
"What about Carver?" she asked. It was an excuse to stay. Rain didn't really give a damn about the man. She'd let the cops deal with him.
"What about Carver?" Jaron got up and began pacing again.
"He's still after me."
"Not my problem."
Rain's mouth dropped open. His reply ticked her off. "You found me and put me in this mess. Where can I go in wet boxers and your shirt? I have no money, no phone."
It was Jaron's turn to look stunned. "I rotted in jail because you couldn't remember me."
"It's not my fault your thirst for revenge has gone south."
That pissed him off. Slowly he stalked her. "Do you have any idea how dangerous I am?"
Rain did, and she didn't care. As much as he felt she'd wronged him, she felt he owed her. How dare he throw himself into her life then just try and cast her out? All those years of fury-filled dancing, longing—and Jaron was the root of it. Rain would be damned if she was just going to let her feelings end before they had even begun.
Rain prowled around him—stalked him. Her gaze went from his squeaky shoes to his damp, black-as-night hair. Finally, after all these years of dancing in the dark, a beacon of light was shining with its brilliance. All this time she had burned for him. Year after year her sexual frustration had manifested into her dancing. She became the dance because she was the dance. Jaron had been the cause.
When Jaron stood inches before her, Rain put her hands on his chest, splaying her fingers. She felt the energy between them right to her core. His body was hard and unyielding, and Rain suppressed a shudder. There was warmth under her hands. A light spatter of dark curly hair begged to be played with. Rain tilted her head to gaze up at him. There was a snarl of fury on his face. But his eyes—oh God, his eyes—were smoldering. Rain's chest heaved.
"You're playing with fire," Jaron ground out.
Funny, she was thinking the same, only it was him holding a hot ember. She had sizzled too long for him. Rain couldn't stand the tension any longer; she lifted her hand and grabbed a handful of his thick, dark hair, rose to her toes, and ground her mouth over his.
His lips were wet and soft and just as tempting as they looked. If Rain could have, she would have claimed sanctuary in his mouth, wanting all of him on her, everywhere. Jaron tried to push her off at first. Then he obviously changed his mind. Rain was pushed back against a wall with heated force.
When her shoulders hit the unmoving obstacle she groaned and pressed her body to the long length of him. Power surrounded her, engulfed her. She felt his tongue search every inch of her mouth, claiming her, punishing her, driving her mad with desire.
When their kiss broke, Jaron's fury-filled eyes were locked onto her. "This is something you won't forget."
"As long as you don't leave me before it's over," she retorted.
With a low growl in his throat Jaron kissed her hard. Rain could feel her blood pulsing in her veins. Jaron's hands were all over her. The heat of his mouth could have dried her off if it wasn't making her feel so wet. Her teeth nipped his lower lip when he squeezed her breast under her shirt. His hand locked into her hair and pulled her face up, exposing her throat. Rain groaned when he bit her, then sucked on the hurt.
Jaron reached up and fisted his hand into the material at her neck. He ripped her shirt off. The garment was wet, and she heard the tear as it dragged its way down. Jaron sunk his teeth into her shoulder. Rain dragged her nails down his back. Jaron tossed her shirt and gripped her shoulders, pushing her to her knees. Rain looked up at him. Her fingers traced the zipper on his pants.
"You better be big," she said.
"Why don't you look?" he taunted.
Rain released his swollen cock from his pants. He was huge. She gripped him until he groaned. Jaron's fingers were in her hair, tightening his hold until she took him into her mouth. Rain felt him shudder. She ran her tongue firmly against the underside of his cock, drawing in as much of his long length as she was able.
Rain reached behind him. She dragged his jeans down and squeezed his ass hard. Jaron thrust his hips forward and more of him filled her. Back and forth he rock
ed, groaning and grunting, until Rain was certain he would come in her mouth. She didn't want that. Rain wanted something more.
It was hard to get him to release her, but she cupped his balls and exerted pressure. Jaron had no choice but to let go of her hair if he was to stop her assault. When he unclasped her fingers, Rain dropped his jeans lower around his ankles and, giving a shove, toppled him over. Jaron landed with a hard thump and swore, and Rain smiled down at him. Jaron kicked his pants and shoes off. Rain pulled her own shoes off and was on top of him. Jaron twisted her beneath him and settled his weight onto her.
Their eyes were locked as Jaron slowly stripped her of the boxers she wore. Rain could still see his anger and hurt, but she saw passion as well. She had a real tiger by the tail and she was ready for him. Rain could feel his hardness pressing against her. When he shifted, she lifted her legs around his waist. Jaron plunged into her. Rain gasped and bit her lip. He was heavy and it was hard to breathe. The floor beneath her was unyielding.
Rain said his name on a groan when he thrust against her cruelly. When she dug her fingernails into his skin, he caught her wrists and pulled them high over her head. She panicked for a moment, feeling trapped.
"I told you I was dangerous," Jaron taunted.
He was dangerous and wild and hard. Rain realized he was everything she'd thought he would be—her shadow man. She closed her eyes and clung tighter as he took her on the wildest ride of her life. This was no alley cat. Jaron thrust harder. The slapping of his thighs against hers was like claps of thunder.
Rain's eyes flew open when Jaron settled his mouth over a breast. His teeth and tongue were merciless and she wiggled under him. She cried out as her nipple puckered and hardened, pressed between his lips. With his other hand Jaron squeezed her other breast, making her gasp with his rough massaging.
The Rhythm of Rain Page 4
