Why Me?

by Treva Harte

  And then the clarity he had felt for that brief moment was gone. He wasn't rational any more. He was afraid he was going out his mind instead. He just wasn't sure if it was going to be from lust, as her mouth closed over his cock, or from fear or from the contradictory thoughts clashing in his head.

  He'd always been afraid he might lose his mind. His mother had, years ago, back when he was too young to remember. Da had finally told him she jumped out of a window. Her voice had been too much for her. Wynn had never wanted to follow—

  *Trust me, Wynn. Let go and trust me.*

  "Cassidy?" He wanted to tell her to stop. But he didn't want her to stop.

  Then he gave in. He might go crazy if he did that. But he would go crazy if he didn't. He had to choose. At least he was going to get some pleasure this way.

  *I trust you.*

  This was Cassie after all. And as he told her that, he could feel his whole body begin to knot up fiercely. He convulsed with pleasure, with pleasure close to pain, and he felt himself climaxing, coming into Cassie, who had climbed on top him and was gripping him tightly.

  He had no protection, he had nothing to shield himself from what she was doing to him, what she had done—

  He screamed. He thought he might have yelled Cassie's name. But he knew he'd screamed so loudly his throat hurt. He lay there, shuddering, and felt Cassie's hands caressing where he had felt knots around his wrists and ankles.

  He felt her smoothing away the imaginary marks they left, kissing his wrists and ankles. But now, imaginary bonds or not, he knew he could move again.

  Well, he should be able to move. If his muscles would just come back. He was pretty sure he'd lost consciousness for a minute. He felt the sweat on his body. Then he opened his eyes.

  Cassie was smiling at him.

  *Hello, Wynn. Welcome back. I missed you.*

  "That," Wynn managed to say one word, very carefully, and had to stop a moment. He was very proud that his voice didn't shake. "Was quite an experience."

  And then his arms managed to move. He held her tightly. Wynn was almost afraid he would hurt her, but he needed to keep her that close.

  She was holding him just as tightly right back. For a moment he thought of just staying this way for the rest of his life. He liked that idea.

  He had never felt this close to anyone, literally or figuratively, in his life.

  "You do love me, you know," Cassie was telling him. "Just as much as I love you."

  "Yes. I know." Wynn gave in again. After all, he'd said it once before, when he thought one of them was going to die. What was the harm in saying it now, when he felt so very alive?

  *I love you, Cassie.*

  After all, when he gave in to Cassie last time, things had felt pretty damn good.

  Telling her made him feel pretty damn good too.

  "Now what?" Cassie asked him.

  "What d'you mean what?"

  "You know what happened, don't you?"

  "I might be a little naïve now and then, Cassidy, but I think I figured that much out. You aren't going to get pregnant, are you?"

  "Jerk." Cassie slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "I meant you know why we're here and you were acting so strangely, don't you?"

  His euphoria faded a little as he began to think again. Really think.

  Emmanuel.

  Emmanuel had done it to him again. He'd slipped right into his mind and had him doing things he never should have. Wynn looked around Cassie's bedroom. Like take Cassie back here. Back to where she could be easily found. Back into even more danger than before.

  Emmanuel had helped make him act like an idiot again. Going to Jeffries' apartment had been bad enough, but he hadn't let Emmanuel sneak up on him in a very long time so perhaps he could be forgiven that lapse. Becoming overconfident a second time, however, and, even worse, letting Cassie come back into danger because of that overconfidence was sheer stupidity. Maybe Wynn could bear that for himself, but he wasn't going to let Cassie down because of his weakness.

  "Cassie, I sent you away before for your own good. Without me, I'm pretty sure you're not in danger. All you need to do is go hide for a while, just until things get resolved—" Wynn stopped at the look on her face.

  "I don't think so, Wynn."

  Her words were gentle. She smiled at him, too, but he knew she was serious. She trailed her fingers against his neck and he shivered.

  "But Cassidy—" He began to protest, unsure he even wanted to protest. Not sending her away sounded so seductive. Not being alone sounded so good.

  "We're a team now, mister. And I don't know that I would be safer anywhere else. I wouldn't feel safer, I know that."

  He wanted to argue. But he wasn't sure that he was right. He wasn't entirely sure of anything right now except that he was never going to let Emmanuel get to him again. Somehow.

  Then Wynn remembered that Cassie had stopped Emmanuel last time. Maybe Wynn needed her around for his protection. Or he needed her to protect him so he could protect her. Like a team.

  He'd never worked as part of a team.

  "Oh, forget it." Wynn growled the words.

  Arguing with a woman after having the most intense sexual experience of his life with her was too exhausting. He'd have to try again later.

  But she always confused him.

  Like now. Cassie didn't say anything more to him. No smart remarks, no loving ones.

  She just smiled at him again with the welcoming, tremulous smile she's given him after their sexual bout. Then she curled up against him and fell asleep.

  He listened to her breathing and realized he should try to figure out what was going on.

  Instead, Wynn went back to feeling confused. But this time he was feeling a good confusion. How the hell had Cassie managed to do that?

  Chapter Fifteen

  "This isn't exactly my kind of place." Wynn was careful to say the words mildly, reasonably. He was proud of the calm tone he achieved.

  But Cassie giggled anyhow.

  "No. I'm sure it isn't. But Joe is going to be in Amsterdam for the next few weeks. No one will think of connecting us to his house. Not even him."

  Wynn looked at the trompe l'oeil painting on the wall and the fussy wallpaper and swallowed. He forgot about the calm reasonable approach.

  "God, I hope not."

  "C'mon, Wynn. Admit that there is some advantage to hanging out with a cleaning lady. I have keys to a lot of empty houses." Cassie grinned. "And I accidentally took this set with me when we left, so I'm pretty sure Emmanuel and crew won't know about Joe's house."

  "Fine. If we have to stay here, we'll stay here. But don't try to make me agree I'll like it."

  "Wouldn't dream of it. So do you want the burgundy bedroom or the lavender one?"

  Wynn shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He could imagine both rooms right now. No. He couldn't. He really hoped he couldn't.

  "Lavender would pretty much put me off my stride in the bedroom. For your sake, I think burgundy has to be a better choice."

  Cassie laughed again. Then she sobered.

  She wandered to the telephone, punched in numbers and then began to listen. Wynn decided she was checking in with her answering service.

  When he heard her mutter ugly things softly and begin to scribble things down, he was sure of it.

  "I can't believe Mrs. Land wants me to do another emergency cleaning job! And Emily is threatening to kill me if I don't call," Cassie moaned. Then she looked up. "Listen, Wynn. As long as we've settled the bedroom arrangement, I think it's time for us to talk."

  The half-amused annoyance he had felt vanished into complete panic. Talk? What about? When women said those words that always meant trouble. Cassie was getting serious.

  Whatever she was serious about, he didn't want to deal with it. He hadn't wanted to think about much of anything lately—he was starting to be afraid to plan things in case Emmanuel checked out his brain again.

  Even more, he had wanted to drift for a
while, to just enjoy being with Cassie. In the middle of one of the worst crises in his life and, hell, maybe the country's, for that matter, he just wanted to be with a woman and forget the rest. Maybe what was left of his brain had begun to rot.

  "I bet Ned was an intellectual giant before he met you," Wynn mumbled. "Something about you destroys a man's brain cells."

  Cassie stiffened, then paused.

  *You're not really mad. Or not at me. You're worried. Me, too, Wynn.*

  "All right, yes, I'm worried."

  "And I think that was almost a compliment anyhow." Cassie finished the thought aloud.

  "Almost."

  "Anyhow. Wynn, I could hear and see Emmanuel's thoughts through you. Do you remember them?"

  Wynn almost laughed. Cassie just wanted to talk about the danger they were in. That trouble he was less worried about than—well, whatever else Cassie might have brought up.

  "Some of them. Not all. Emmanuel can erase a person's memory."

  "Not mine. Perhaps that's because he didn't know he had to. But this is what I caught from you. Besides some really ugly thoughts about women which, despite your surly general attitude, I don't think you really think, I also got an image of someone shot and falling in front of a crowd. That must mean Emmanuel has thought up another plan."

  Wynn rubbed his forehead. "That doesn't surprise me. Emmanuel never stops until he gets what he wants. Violence wouldn't surprise me, either. But can you figure out any more? Who is the man? Where is the crowd?"

  "Art, I suppose. I can't place where the crowd is. But why shoot him before he becomes president?"

  "Is that what you think Emmanuel wants to do?"

  "I don't know. Yes. I think he does. I don't know why."

  "Works for me. Why would he shoot Art now? Or at least soon?"

  "If Lida doesn't get the vice president's slot?" Cassie asked. "Emmanuel hates women. All of us. But he seemed particularly angry about some woman—maybe he's mad at her in particular."

  "And shooting Art would...Oh." He stopped but he'd already thought it. She'd know.

  Wynn looked at her and waited.

  "You said once that there would be no reason to hurt Art once he made his vice presidential selection. But what about before that?" Cassie echoed Wynn's thoughts.

  "She withdrew from the primaries, but she still has delegate votes. A few. More than a few. More than anyone else except Art."

  "If he was shot after the primaries and they couldn't hold any more, what happens?" Cassie asked. "I never was much good at political science."

  "I don't know. But she might have a decent chance at getting the presidential nomination."

  "You need to get to Art."

  Wynn stood up.

  "Right." He paused. "Alone. But if I go, will you be safe?"

  "Sure. I might even be able to do my job."

  "Cleaning by yourself in an empty house..."

  "I'll call you if there's a problem." Cassie smiled. "By cell phone, not brain wave."

  They both hesitated.

  "Wynn—"

  "Yes?"

  Damned if he wanted to leave her. He couldn't figure out if that was because there was real danger or just that he didn't want to. Coward or totally unable to leave her alone? He didn't like either choice. Not long ago he had let her go off on her own right into danger. He couldn't do that to her now. Stupid or not, he was afraid to let her go on her own.

  Meanwhile Cassie was looking nervous and then she began talking fast. "I did want to talk about something else, you know. About yesterday."

  The tension came back again. He wasn't going to get away that easily after all.

  "Yes?"

  "You know why I did that to you, don't you? I don't get my jollies from doing things like that. I'm not into bondage."

  "I know. You did it because it was going to get me back. But I don't understand how you knew."

  "I don't either. But you were withdrawing in every way from me and from what you are. I couldn't let you leave. And—and that was what I needed to do."

  "It worked." Wynn hesitated again. But she had started all this talking. He needed to know. "Cassie—"

  "What?"

  "I asked you before. Could you be pregnant?"

  "I have contraceptives."

  "Could you?"

  "Probably not."

  *Maybe.*

  "Well then." Wynn swallowed. "Well. Then. I'll be back. Once I figure out how to get to Art before Jock sees me. Maybe it's time for Art to go take a walk. You can meet lots of old friends on walks."

  "How do you know when he'll decide to go take a stroll? And the Secret Service agents won't let you near him—"

  "I'll e-mail him first and hope he checks his messages."

  This was ridiculous. Wynn had taken care of himself most of his life. He was taller and stronger than she was.

  She was still afraid to let him go out on his own.

  She tried to reason with herself. He might not be quite as old as she was—she had a feeling he wasn't even close to her twenty nine—but he was plenty old enough to be allowed to make his own decisions. And she was terrified for him.

  "You're making me crazy. I don't know what to do with you or about being in love."

  "Guess I'm good at making you crazy." Wynn shoved his hands in his back jeans pockets. "But all this other stuff—"

  *Like love? Like worrying over you?*

  "Right. You know. Stuff. Same goes for me. For you."

  Wynn was usually a lot more articulate than that. But he didn't say any more although he looked for a moment like he wanted to. Instead he just swallowed, then turned and walked out the door.

  Cassie glared at the closed door. This was the first time he had said anything out loud about how much he cared and all he could manage was to mutter something about "stuff" and "same goes."

  "Men. Why do we bother?"

  *Because I'd die for you, Cassie. You know that.*

  Cassie swallowed this time.

  "Same goes, Harmon. Of course."

  She scowled. Now she was supposed to be the one who stayed at home while he risked his life. She had never expected any of this. Never asked for it. Never wan—OK. She'd wanted love. Didn't everyone? But she hadn't wanted everything that came along with loving Wynn. Who could?

  She couldn't return the bad stuff and keep the good, though. She knew she was stuck with the whole package.

  He was quite a package, all in all. Sometimes it was better when she didn't think about who she was involved with. She loved a telepathic, way too young advisor to a presidential candidate. A candidate that was going to be shot unless she and Wynn could stop the bad guys. And she had thought Ned was a problem!

  "I cannot think about this. I need to clean houses." For the first time in a long time Cassie resented having to deal with her job.

  On the other hand she couldn't sit here in Joe's house, biting her nails and hoping everything was going to be all right.

  Cassie automatically looked down at the list of cancellations and changes she had from the answering service. She went downstairs to start collecting mops and cleaning solutions. Between doing her job and placating the people she hadn't done work for, she would have a plenty busy enough day.

  It was the last message that disturbed her most. Tash had called. Tash never called her at work. She hardly called her at all.

  What new kind of trouble was Cassie in now?

  The image of the man crumpling down flickered once again in her mind. Didn't she have enough trouble without her family butting in? Somehow she had a feeling that everything wasn't going to be wrapped up with Wynn trotting over to Art and telling him to watch out for stray bullets.

  * * * * *

  Art smiled when he saw him. The smile was warm and wide. Wynn had always liked it. He didn't flatter himself that Art couldn't turn that smile on for effect to anyone he chose, but Wynn liked to think Art meant it for him.

  "Good to get some fresh air, Harmon, don't you
think? Glad I happened to see you—no, no, he's all right. Friend of mine," Art tossed those words off to the intent-looking men surrounding him.

  Wynn would like to think that, too. He knew Art had many friends, some useful, some political, some in name in only. Wynn wasn't sure where Art classified him, but he supposed Art might be the only one who knew for sure.

  "Glad we could meet." Wynn kept it brief.

  Part of Wynn, the part that wasn't worried to death, said he should be proud of himself. He'd come a long way since the Institute—since before the Institute. After he got out, he'd sworn there was going to be nothing left of that scared kid who had to either please or trick people to survive. He'd done his best. He'd left his homeland. He'd worked to get rid of his old image and make himself into a powerful person, the man people turned to for help. He'd studied, worked, made plans.

  Now he had a presidential candidate next to him, willing to listen to anything Wynn might have to say. He'd done what he set out to do.

  "Hard to find any time to talk about anything but the campaign any more." Art looked up at the sky. "What month is it now? Almost May? God, I'm already getting tired of the campaign."

  "I know. Unfortunately this meeting is also about the campaign."

  Art's gaze returned to earth and Wynn saw the other man was completely alert and focused on him. Art wasn't tired of the campaign just yet.

  "Go ahead then." He moved up to just out of earshot of the Secret Service detail.

  "I believe someone is going to make an attempt to silence you before you can announce your pick for the vice president." Wynn wanted to get the most important piece of the problem over with first.

  "Ah."

  Wynn began to talk, as urgently but succinctly as he could. Art said nothing. He listened but was silent. Wynn felt the prickle begin at the back of his neck.

  Something's wrong.

  Art wasn't reacting. His smile was pleasant, he was obviously taking Wynn's words in, but Wynn wasn't getting any real response from Art. There was no fear, no anger, no surprise. Even the most seasoned politician must have some reaction to hearing a determinedly evil man was planning to kill him.

  Art wasn't really listening to him.