He liked her sensitivity and regard for others. “Go to sleep, kitten. I’ll wake you when it’s time,” he told her in a husky voice. Linc tried to tell himself that the care he extended toward Brie was part of his cover, not real concern.
Pleasantly wrapped in the melting honey of his tone, Brie went to sleep. She spiraled quickly into an abyss where nothing except peace existed.
When she awoke, it was to the caress of strong fingers gently massaging her shoulder. Wanting to remain in the arms of sleep, she nuzzled the hand, which she discovered had wiry hairs across it. When it slowly dawned on her whose hand it was, she jerked awake and sat up.
“We’re near Canton,” Linc said quietly, giving her a worried look.
“What time is it?” she asked groggily, rubbing her eyes.
“A little after ten. How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck,” she muttered, sitting up. “My neck feels like it has knots in it.” She began to rub it gently. Her hair had dried and was mussed, giving her a fragile look that Linc found hard to ignore.
He wondered what it would be like to make love to Brie. She was so responsive, like a hot, spirited thoroughbred. He had spent the past hour mulling over many facets of Brie, making a checklist of what he did or did not like about her. In the minus column, she was his boss. She was either a target or had set up Holcomb to be murdered. Which was it? Linc wanted to discount that Brie was capable of having her partner blown away, but he couldn’t that easily. Then again, if she was the culprit why did she risk injury as she did? He had only a few answers, and there were still so many pieces of the puzzle that didn’t fit. A plan had formed in his mind as she slept, and now he was going to spring it on her.
“Listen, I’ve been thinking, Brie.”
“Uh-oh, that could be dangerous,” she said, digging for the thermos.
“Are you always a tart when you wake up?”
She sat up, the thermos between her hands. “Just with your kind, Tanner. Want some?”
“No, thanks. What do you mean, my kind?”
Brie poured herself a cup of coffee, capped the thermos and sat back, enjoying Linc and her just awakening state. “Your kind meaning the guys in the fire service who are all macho and given to rooster crowing and strutting. They always have a line for the women who come around. Actually, I should thank all those guys I spent my fire fighting years with. They helped me handle someone like you.” She glanced out of the corners of her eyes to see how he was taking her teasing.
“You can really dish it out, can’t you, Ms. Williams?”
She grinned, placing both feet on the dash. “That’s right, any time, day or night. I’m on twenty-four-hour call, Tanner.”
“I’m impressed as hell. When I wake up, I’m not sharp at all.”
“No? Pity. Here I thought all you ever did was parry your way through life.”
He slid her a warning look laced with humor. “Only with smart mouths like you, Williams. Satisfied?”
“Immensely. Now, what did you want to talk about?”
Saucy little cat. I’ll corner you someday and then we’ll see just how fast you can try and talk your way out of me kissing you. Linc wondered where that thought had come from. “How about if I crash and burn on your couch? We’re both beat. There’s no sense in driving all over Canton to find a motel open at this time of night. Besides, if you are called out, you’ll have to come and pick me up, wasting valuable time.”
Brie’s good humor disappeared abruptly. She put her cup down, rested her hands on her knees and pondered his suggestion. Panic riffled through her. She didn’t want Linc at her house. She had no way of knowing when she would have another nightmare and she’d awake screaming. No, she couldn’t risk her image with Tanner like that. She wanted no one to see that weakened side of herself at any cost.
“I think you’ll be more comfortable at a motel, Linc.”
“I don’t sleep well in motels. There’s just something about a home that puts me at ease.” He glanced at her, seeing the set of her lips. What was going on inside that head of hers? Was she hiding something at her house she wanted no one to see? “I promise I’ll stay on the couch. No cute stuff. Okay?”
Brie rubbed her brow, feeling a headache coming on. Great, he didn’t sleep well at motels. Neither did she. “It’s a small couch. You wouldn’t be comfortable on it. Take my word.”
Linc softened his features and gave what he hoped was his best puppy-dog look. “We had a rough start. How about if we both get a good night’s sleep to put us in good stead for tomorrow?”
She wasn’t prepared for the sudden pleading look in Linc’s eyes and felt like a heel for trying to turn him down. “Oh, okay,” she grumbled. “But I warn you, Tanner, I won’t be your cook or bottle washer. Tomorrow’s Sunday, our day off. I don’t want to have to jump out of bed and feed your growing-boy appetite in the morning.”
Linc tried to look properly grateful. “No problem. All I like in the morning is coffee, anyway.”
Brie shot him a disparaging look. “At least we agree on that.”
Allowing a bit of a friendly smile, he murmured, “Not bad for two people who are opposites, eh? I’m impressed, too.”
“Well, just don’t expect the Ritz, Tanner. You make up your own bed on that lumpy couch. I’m going to grab the shower first, then hit the sack. You’re going to have to wait your turn. I’m dead on my feet.”
“No problem,” he said. “Ladies first, anyway.”
Brie wrinkled her nose, trying to figure out how to short-circuit the nightmares that stalked her. She still had some sleeping pills left from her stay in the hospital. But what if there was a haz-mat call? She wouldn’t be able to function properly in that groggy state, and Jeff wouldn’t be returning until tomorrow afternoon. Groaning, Brie shut her eyes, trying to think clearly and not succeeding.
Following her directions, Linc found her small white home with green trim on the outskirts of North Canton. The one-story house was hidden by a long gravel driveway lined with oaks, elms and maples. A large overhead sulfur lamp lit the entire front of the house, which was embraced by blossoming white and purple lilac bushes. They stood window-height in some places. Tulips, daffodils and hyacinths were in full bloom in front of the shrubs.
“Nice place,” Linc murmured as he shut off the engine. He’d meant it.
“This is Camelot, the place where I go and hide when the world gets too much to take,” Brie said, climbing out. She fished for the key from her purse and opened the door.
“Come on in,” she invited Linc, who was hanging back. Was it her imagination or was he looking around the entire area as if he were an investigator? Brie shook her head, not caring. Throwing her purse on the Formica counter in the small kitchen, she headed for the linen closet in the hall near the bathroom. She found sheets, a pillow and a blanket, and put them in Linc’s waiting arms. “The living room is that way,” she said, pointing. “I’m getting my shower then going to bed.”
He gave her a nod. “Sounds good. Good night. And thanks”
Brie barely responded, going to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of chablis instead of downing a sleeping pill. In the bathroom, she shed her clothes, dying for a bath, but it was too soon after her burn injuries to subject her tender, still healing flesh to it. With a sigh, she stepped into the warm shower and scrubbed her hair and body. By the time she finished, she was so groggy she could barely stand. After she slipped into a pale apricot silk nightgown that brushed her slender ankles, Brie opened the bathroom door and padded down the carpeted hall to her bedroom. Before the accident, she had always worn gowns that showed off her shoulders. Since then, because of the terrible scars, she wore only gowns with high necklines that hid the telltale scars. Some of them were still visible, but a robe would hide them from her eyes as well as Linc’s curious, always penetrating gaze.
Bed had never looked so inviting as she quietly shut the door. Moonlight streamed in through the floor-to-ce
iling windows on the east side of the room; the pale ivory sheer curtains lent a radiance to the scene. But Brie couldn’t appreciate any of it tonight. The instant she snuggled beneath the quilt her grandmother had made for her, she was asleep.
Linc took a shower and stepped into his light blue pajama bottoms. He tightened the drawstring and opened the door, waiting and listening. Damp dark hair clung to his brow, and he tamed it into place with his fingers. It had been nearly a half hour since Brie had gone to bed. He turned off the hall light, stepped up to her door and carefully turned the brass knob. The door opened without a creak. He waited a few more seconds, listening. Then, he pushed the door open just enough to see. There, lying on one side of the brass bed, was Brie sleeping soundly, the moonlight outlining her form.
Her face was almost radiant and was without a trace of the previous tension around her full, sensual lips or eyes. His heart beat harder, and he took a deep, steadying breath, his body going rigid with need of her. She looked soft and warm, vulnerable and incredibly feminine. With a shake of his head, Linc slowly closed the door. It must be moon madness, he thought wryly. No woman made his head spin like that.
Padding to the living room, which, in his opinion, had so many plants it bordered on being a jungle, Linc went directly to the massive cherry rolltop desk. He turned on the Tiffany stained-glass lamp and, with painstaking thoroughness, he began his investigation. He found a stack of letters and committed the names of the correspondents to memory. If he had time, he’d read the contents of each later. Another small drawer yielded several color photos. In one, Brie was smiling brilliantly, her arm around a man in a haz-mat uniform. He had to be John Holcomb. Linc felt the stirrings of envy as he absorbed the happiness evident in Brie’s face. Her eyes were like dead embers now compared to the photo. He pushed aside his personal feelings and noted that Brie was at least fifteen pounds heavier in the photo, and sported a golden tan. Her beautiful sable brown hair was curling richly around her shoulders. Had her hair been burned off in the explosion? More than likely, and he was suddenly sad that had happened, because she was lovely with dark hair framing her face. His throat constricted with emotion as he gazed at her. Where her cheek had once been filled out with a rosy bloom, it was nothing but flesh over bone now.
He cradled the picture between his hands, lifting his head and staring into the darkness toward the bedroom. The trauma of the explosion had devastated Brie much more than he had first realized. No one looked like a prisoner of war as she did now without the ravages still inside her, still eating her up. His forehead furrowed deeply as he stared down at Brie. The report on her had said she suffered internal injuries and burns. Had she sought therapy afterward to cope with the trauma? More than likely not. Who of them did? Linc recalled her every move at the haz-mat scene. Brie had been professional, like a man would have been. She hadn’t lost her touch. So how was the trauma affecting her?
Having more questions than answers, Linc continued his search of the desk. There were several photos of Brie with Holcomb, his wife and child celebrating Christmas, Easter, birthdays and other holidays. Linc got the impression that Brie was part of Holcomb’s family.
Going back to the letters, he opened the one with the latest postmark, which was only a few days ago. It was from Carol Holcomb.
Dear Brie,
How can Susie and I thank you for the lovely flowers? They were such a wonderful surprise and they brightened our day. Susie loves the balloons that came with the bouquet and has them in her room. And whenever I’m down, I go smell the flowers, and it makes me feel better.
By the way, Susie asks me every day, when is Aunt Brie coming over again, Mommy?
We miss you, Brie. And I know how busy you are. Just know we pray for you nightly.
Love,
Carol and Susie
Linc folded the note and put it into the pink envelope. Aunt Brie. You endear yourself to everyone pretty quickly, don’t you? What is it about you that makes people want to reach out and become a part of your existence?
The next letter was from Steve, her brother.
Dear Fighting Tiger,
How’s my ace sister doing? When you gonna come to my base and visit me? I haven’t seen you since visiting you in the hospital. Knowing you like I do, you’re licking your own wounds by yourself, as usual. Come on! I may be your kid brother, but I have a pretty broad shoulder that you can lean on if you want.
And, also knowing you, you haven’t cried much lately (you’d get more blood out of a turnip) and I’m pretty good at sitting and listening, why not try me? How come you haven’t been calling me once a month like you usually do? I know you’re busy, but the state of Ohio can’t have blown up that much. It’s been three months since you got out of the burn unit, and I haven’t heard from you.
If I don’t hear soon, I’m going to go A.W.O.L. from the Air Force and fly back to see you. How’s that for a threat, Big Sis? Seriously, call or write. I’ll even accept a collect call from you, Tiger.
Love,
your strong, intelligent, handsome brother Steve
So you’ve locked yourself up since the accident.
He glanced at the names on the next letter—Mr. and Mrs. Vernon Williams. Her parents.
Dear Sweetheart:
How are you doing? Dad and I are so worried about you. Please come home for a visit. I just have this feeling you need someone, Brie. You and John were so close. And I know he was like the big brother you never had, honey.
Why don’t you take some of that vacation you’ve earned? You haven’t had one in over a year. I know you love your job and you believe in what you’re accomplishing, but everyone needs a rest now and then. If you’ll come home Dad’s promised you can help around the farm. You always loved plowing the fields in the spring. He says your favorite old John Deere tractor has been tuned up and is waiting for you.
Of course, if you don’t want to work, you don’t have to. We just need to see you again, honey. After that awful three months in the hospital and seeing what it did to you, we both think that right now, you need a little T.L.C. Please, Brie, you give so much to others. Don’t you think it’s time you came home to get some for yourself?
If you can’t afford the plane ticket, Dad says we’ll spring for it. Let us know soon. We love you, honey.
Love,
Mom and Dad
Linc’s mouth twisted as he put the letter in the stack. He stared down at six others. Were they all from friends and family who were worried? Driven to find out and rationalizing that his decision to read them was for the purpose of his investigation and not his personal need to know, Linc spent another twenty minutes perusing them. By the time he was done, his face was grim. The other six letters were from members of the haz-mat team. Some had sent funny cards; others more serious, but they all contained one message: Brie was special, respected and cared for by her family of coworkers. He sat back in the chair, the Tiffany lamp casting light and making deep shadows around him.
Everywhere he looked, Linc saw life. Huge ficus trees, almost as tall as the eight-foot ceiling, graced two corners of the pale green living room. Behind the bamboo couch with fluffy ivory colored pillows were two tall, slender palms, adding a wild touch to the room. He liked it, realizing he was privy to another facet of Brie’s existence. The room throbbed with vibrancy. She had embraced life in ways he had seen few people able to do.
Linc stared at the stack of unanswered mail and returned the letters to their drawer. Framed pictures of lions, cheetahs and other animals graced the walls. Was that how Brie felt? Was she a wild lioness who demanded freedom? He smiled. He hadn’t missed the mark on her after all—she was feline…
Why are you running from everyone’s offer of help? Is there something they don’t know? Are you mixed up with a criminal element and afraid to talk for fear they’ll blow the whistle on you, too? Or maybe you really were secretly in love with John Holcomb and are afraid to admit that to anyone. Rubbing his face, Linc got up, running hi
s hand across his chest where an ache had centered.
Brie moaned and tossed violently, throwing the quilt off her. She lay floating between sleep and wakefulness, aware that her nightgown was sticky against her flesh. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she saw herself turning from John to head to the haz-mat van. She felt her heart start a hammer of warning. No! Oh, God, please, no! she screamed silently. Come back, John! Come back! Helplessly, Brie watched the unfolding drama before her.
Just as before, Brie heard the powerful explosion, felt the blast of annihilating heat. Then blackness overcame her as she was slammed to the concrete surface. A scream tore from her lips when she regained consciousness. She rolled over on her back. Her ribs hurt, and she gripped her right side as she sat up. Warm liquid was running down her face, blinding her. A metallic taste was in her mouth, and her nose was bleeding heavily. Brie felt another scream building deep inside her, clawing up through her like a caged animal that had to free itself. She lifted her chin to look at the drums. The raw cry finally tore from her. Brie sprang up, fighting pain and dizziness as she lurched forward, trying to get to where John lay facedown three hundred feet away.
Brie jerked upright in bed, burying her face in her hands, her shoulders hunched and broken. She barely heard the door being torn open; she was not aware of the light being turned on.
Linc froze, one hand on the doorknob, the other on the light switch. Brie was breathing hard, her gasps hoarse. She sat on the edge of the bed as if she were prepared to leap off it. He had heard her scream and thought that someone had slipped into her bedroom and attacked her. His wide eyes traveled from the closed windows to Brie. Without thinking, he started toward her out of some instinct to comfort her. His mouth opened then closed. He tasted the bitterness of bile as he stared at her heavily scarred right shoulder. The upper buttons of the gown were open and moved aside enough for him to see some of her injury. Twisted pink flesh clearly showed the path of destruction the explosion had collected from Brie.
Come Gentle the Dawn Page 6
