The Doubted

by Shiloh Walker

  Keys, two—no, three—packs of gum, all half-gone, tampons and pens and loose change. Enough loose change to keep them in vending machine soft drinks for a week, it seemed.

  “Here.”

  She looked up as Bennett held out her wallet.

  “Thanks.” She gingerly accepted it, careful not to let her fingers touch him.

  He noticed.

  The stilted silence settled around them, heavy and thick.

  She hated it, right up until he asked, “That’s what causes it, isn’t it? Touching somebody?”

  The strength drained out of her and she sat down hard on her ass, her tablet in one hand, a tampon in the other. Looking down at her hands, she blushed and shoved both items into her purse. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “When people were touching me in the ER, trying to get me to calm down, that made it worse but it was like I could hear them, screaming inside my head. Nothing’s connected to them, though. Right now, it’s all…”

  She stopped speaking, uncertain how to even finish.

  “Me.” He looked as tired as she felt, and she watched as he sat down as well, his back against the bed.

  He still wore the hoodie but it was unzipped and she could see the butt of his gun. She’d seen him use it, or close enough. She’d caught a glimpse of his body, hidden by the darkness, as he’d used that weapon on the men who’d come looking for her.

  Unaware of her thoughts, he said tiredly, “This is all about me. You wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for me.”

  “No.” She squirmed as he looked at her from the corner of his eye. “I could very well be in the psych ward for a twenty-three-hour hold.”

  “Twenty-three hours came and went, Nyrene.”

  Yeah. It was all a blur, too. As the man next to her sighed, she went back to collecting the rest of the change. “Bennett?”

  He looked at her through his lashes.

  “I know you didn’t…well, I know this wasn’t anything you intended to happen.”

  His lids flickered. Shaking his head, he said, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions—isn’t that the saying? It’s just…everything you said sounded…”

  “Impossible,” she offered when he lapsed into silence.

  “Yeah.” He snorted. “Turns out it was just highly improbable.”

  Nyrene didn’t entirely understand the look in his eyes, but she had a good idea what was behind it. He felt guilty—yeah, he should—and he was sorry, which he’d already admitted. She had to be honest, though. Had somebody told her this, or anything like it, would happen to her, she would have laughed her butt off.

  Crazy things just didn’t happen to Nyrene Goldman. She had a nice, normal life, and she liked it that way.

  She rose and settled her purse on the bed—in the middle.

  “Here.”

  She glanced at him and saw the card he was holding out.

  As she reached for it, he said, “You’ve got more stuff in that purse than I would have thought was possible.”

  “Yeah.” She glanced at the card and went to tuck it into her bag, but then, before she did, she stopped.

  Slowly, she held it up.

  “Shit.”

  She dropped down on the edge of the bed, staring dumbly at the card. Where had this…?

  No. Wait. She remembered.

  That guy—the one in the doctor’s office. Big and rough and built. He’d handed her a card, as though she’d dropped it. But she hadn’t.

  He must have given it to her.

  She couldn’t think of any other way she’d be holding a card with FBI printed on it. There was also a name. She closed her eyes while the name echoed in her mind.

  Taige Morgan.

  She sucked in a breath.

  “What—”

  She didn’t hear him, barely noticed as he gently tugged the card away.

  Taige Morgan—if there was anybody in the southern states who hadn’t heard of her, Nyrene would be shocked.

  But how did she know about Nyrene?

  Call me.

  Bennett stared at the words scrawled below the name—and that name was a sucker punch. Taige Morgan.

  “This shit is just getting crazier,” he muttered.

  The bed squeaked and he looked up, watched as Nyrene collected the bag.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Taking a shower,” she replied and her voice wobbled.

  It all but broke him as she cleared her throat and then continued, although he could see how shaken she was. “I need a shower. That’s a nice, normal thing, right? I need nice and normal.”

  “Okay.” He nodded and closed his fingers around the card. “Okay.”

  He watched as she disappeared into the bathroom and then he blew out a harsh breath. This was…

  Hell. He didn’t know what to even call the situation they’d wound up in. FUBAR just might cover it, but he wasn’t sure. And he’d dragged an innocent woman into it. He’d scared her half to death, and more than once, he’d put her life at risk.

  As the water in the bathroom came on, he closed his eyes.

  Immediately, he opened them. Tossing the card down, he shoved upright and started to pace. His imagination served up a detailed image of just what was happening in the small bathroom. The water raining down on her, sluicing over all that lovely, golden skin, to her breasts and then her belly…

  Fuck.

  He stopped at the door and leaned forward, hands braced on it while his body raged and burned. Stop it, man. You gotta stop it.

  He drew in a slow breath, held it a moment then blew it out. Then he repeated the process a few more times, lying to himself all the while that he had it under control.

  He didn’t believe the lie, but he believed he could fake it.

  He could—

  A short, sharp scream sliced through the air.

  He drew his Glock and shouted, “Nyrene!”

  There wasn’t an answer.

  Shit.

  The door was locked.

  He reared back and busted through.

  And then he had to jerk back to keep from stumbling over her. She was sitting on the tile, a towel wrapped around her. And everything that had been on the counter—ice bucket, the toothbrushes he’d grabbed, a couple bottles of water—was scattered all over the floor.

  A soft, shaky gasp fell from her lips and he crouched down in front of her, almost afraid to touch her.

  “Nyrene, are you hurt?” He holstered his weapon.

  She lifted her head and looked at him. Her black hair hung in thick, wet ropes, clinging to her neck and shoulders. Water still beaded on her forehead, and as he watched, one drop slid down her temple and followed the elegant line of her cheek.

  “What’s wrong, baby?” The endearment slipped free before he realized it.

  He didn’t think she even noticed. Her eyes came to his, dark and haunted. She looked at him for just a blink and then averted her gaze. “I’m just…it’s stupid. I’m okay.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Now he did touch her, pushing her wet hair back from her face before he caught her chin and guided her gaze back to his. “Tell me.”

  “It’s stupid,” she said. Her voice cracked and tears rolled out of her eyes. “I don’t have any lotion and I don’t have the conditioner for my hair and I don’t have—”

  A hard shudder racked her body and she clamped her lips tightly. After a few seconds, she said again, “It’s stupid.”

  Dev wasn’t so sure he agreed. He’d found her in the parking lot while a couple of assholes were trying to kidnap her. He had a good idea of what they would have done to her, too. He’d dragged her halfway across the state, interrogating her, and when she’d told him the truth, he hadn’t believed her.

  Now she was in a small, tired old motel with him and she didn’t have anything but the clothes he’d grabbed for her from a local Walmart.

  “Come on.”

  He held out a hand and waited until she placed
hers in his. With her other, she clutched the towel between her breasts, holding it in place. He let go of her hand once she stood in front of the mirror.

  He took another towel from the rod and started to dry her hair.

  She didn’t move or speak.

  Taking the comb, he went to work on the tangles in her heavy hair, focusing on that task, and that alone. His entire body ached and he wanted to crowd up against her, press his mouth to her neck as he tugged the towel away she held so tightly.

  But he just combed her hair.

  Once it lay smooth against her back, he put the comb down. There were things he needed to say, things he should say, but when she turned around to look at him, his mind went blank.

  He was still struggling to think past the hazy heat when she slid past him and into the bedroom.

  He followed her.

  “Am I ever going to be able to go back home?” she asked quietly.

  Dev didn’t know how to answer that—lying to her wouldn’t help and neither would the truth. I don’t know.

  Her breath hitched in her throat and she averted her face, staring at the far wall as she struggled not to cry.

  One tear slid free.

  “Hey…” He brushed it away and a harsh sob tore out of her.

  Because he didn’t know what else to do, Dev wrapped his arms around her as she started to cry.

  Chapter Eleven

  Her head ached.

  Her throat felt raw.

  And under her cheek, she felt the steady, strong beat of Dev’s heart.

  She didn’t remember how she’d gotten here. She barely remembered anything after she’d climbed out of the shower, frustrated with the tangles in her hair and even more frustrated with the itchy feel of her skin, caused by the motel’s cheap soap.

  She knew she’d started to cry.

  She knew that he’d brushed out the tangles in her hair.

  She knew he’d held her.

  And now she knew, intimately, how that big, long body of his felt pressed up against hers.

  But she had no idea how long she’d cried, why she’d started, when he’d picked her up or lain down on the bed with her. Her brain was just a muzzy mess.

  She had no desire to move, either.

  His breath was a warm caress on her face and neck.

  His body was incredibly strong under hers, and as she pondered that—the heavy, hard strength of him—she became aware of something else that was heavy and hard.

  His cock was pressed up against her hip.

  He’d tugged the edge of the sheet over them, tucking it around her body so she wasn’t lying there in just a towel that barely covered her.

  The sheet was miserable protection.

  The towel was miserable protection.

  Even his jeans didn’t provide much of a barrier.

  She felt him pulse against her and she flexed her hand before tightening it into the material of his shirt. An answering pang echoed out from her core and blood rushed to her face.

  Maybe it was the adrenaline thing—she could very well be running for her life—but Nyrene’s mind started to rush and race with images of the two of them stretched out over the bed, his body crushing into hers as he moved back and forth between her thighs.

  This man had terrified her.

  This man had all but called her a liar.

  And he’d rushed into the bathroom when she’d sent everything flying to the floor, his weapon in hand, his eyes fierce.

  Instead of telling her to get over all the things she might well have to leave behind, he’d tended to her with gentle hands, drying her hair and combing away the tangles.

  Now he held her.

  It was insane to want him. Insane…and she knew it.

  But she didn’t care.

  She’d tried to be careful her entire life.

  She had gone to school and become a nurse. Her parents had said it was a nice, secure job.

  She had bought a boring car and always drove the speed limit.

  She’d dated the right kind of guy—an accountant who drove the speed limit and had regular dental check-ups and tipped exactly seventeen percent, regardless of the service, good or bad.

  Her life had been normal and predictable. Then she discovered her boyfriend wasn’t the good, stand-up guy she’d believed, but a married bastard with kids in multiple states.

  She’d had somebody slam into her as she drove home. She’d willed herself not to cry until she was inside her house.

  Then the headaches, the…visions, and Dev.

  She’d tried to be good her whole life and now she was in a motel with a man who made her burn, and in the back of her mind lurked a knowledge. You can’t go home if you end up dead, Nye.

  Slowly, she lifted her head. The strong line of his neck was in front of her, not even an inch from her mouth. Opening her hand, she kept her palm flat against his skin while his heart banged harder and faster.

  She’d never taken chances. Fear kept her from going after the one thing she’d always wanted and now she was running for her life.

  She didn’t even think it through. She just closed the distance between them and pressed her mouth to his neck.

  Dev stopped breathing.

  At least it felt that way.

  His body went to stone as she rubbed her lips over his skin.

  She went to kiss him again and he shifted, spilling her onto her back so that she lay in the middle of the bed.

  He was off the mattress and pacing, the next second.

  His gaze came to hers. Self-conscious, she licked her lips, but she didn’t look away.

  His lids drooped and her heart skipped a beat as she realized he was staring at her mouth.

  “Dev…”

  He shook his head like a man coming out of a spell, and then he turned away.

  “The card—you saw what it said. Do we need to leave here now or can you get some rest?” he asked, his voice lower, rougher.

  “I don’t want to sleep.”

  He jerked his head in a nod. “Okay. I need to shower and then—”

  She let the towel fall away as she stood.

  Dev’s eyes slid down, down, down. It was like a caress and she was torn between grabbing the towel or grabbing him.

  “I don’t want to sleep,” she said again. She took one step toward him and when he just continued to stare, she took another. “You want me…don’t you?”

  One long stride closed the distance between them and he reached up, gripping her shoulders in hard hands. “I don’t think want covers it. But this… You’re not thinking…”

  “If you tell me I’m not thinking clearly, I’ll hit you,” she warned. She hadn’t ever hit anybody, but she thought she just might enjoy hitting him if he said those words. Narrowing her eyes, she said, “I’m thinking just fine. I’m thinking about the fact that a couple of days ago, I drove by my boyfriend’s office only to discover it wasn’t his office and when I called, I got his wife on the phone, then I found out he’s got kids in two different states. I’m thinking about how my head feels like it’s going to come apart and I’m thinking about all the shit I’m seeing, the voices that won’t shut up and all the stuff I see happening—something that my head tells me is impossible, but I see it anyway. And…”

  She sucked in a breath as her words tumbled to a stop.

  His thumb stroked over her skin and she shivered. “I’m thinking that for all I know, I’ll be dead in a week, in two days, in two hours even. And I don’t want the emptiness that’s been my life for the past couple of years to be the only thing I can look back on.”

  She waited for him to break away.

  She waited for him to say something sensible and logical in his low, harsh voice.

  And while she was waiting, he backed her up against the narrow table tucked in next to the wall. “So what do you want?”

  His thumb did another slow stroke against the sensitive skin of her upper chest.

  “I want you.”

>   His thigh pushed between hers as he crowded in closer. He lowered his head and pressed a kiss to the spot just below her ear. “If I was any kind of decent—”

  “I don’t want decent.”

  His kiss stole the breath out of her lungs. She shivered and pressed closer as he skimmed one hand up her back and fisted it in her hair. Then, as he caught her tongue and sucked it into his mouth, he tugged her head back.

  She pressed closer, tangling her fingers in his shirt as he started to stab his tongue into her mouth. She felt that rhythmic pang between her thighs again—felt the hot, wet rush as her body prepared for him.

  Mindless, she slid a hand down his chest, but then he caught her wrist.

  Dev panted as he stared down at her. “I don’t have any condoms.”

  “I’m clean.” She blushed as she said it, but she kept her eyes on his. “The son of a bitch I was dating— I…I wasn’t ready to sleep with him and that’s why he was making time with another woman. But I haven’t been with anybody since my senior year in college and I’ve had blood work done.”

  “That…none of that matters. We shouldn’t—”

  “Are you clean?”

  His hand tightened on her hip. “Yeah, but you shouldn’t believe me. You’re a fucking nurse, Nyrene.”

  “Yeah. That means I’m aware of how stupid this is…and I still don’t care.” She leaned forward, straining against the hold he had on her hair. He relaxed his grip and she rose onto her toes, sinking her teeth into his lower lip.

  He groaned and cupped the back of her head, but she averted her face and pushed against his chest. “I’m on the pill. It’s just…easier. Assuming I live through this, there’s nothing else to worry about—and don’t tell me not to believe you. You wouldn’t even lie to me when I asked if I’d ever be able to go home and that was a much simpler lie than this would be.”

  His hand slid up and cupped her breast. She held her breath as he did it, and she tensed, waiting for him to squeeze too hard or pinch too tightly. Instead, he stroked his thumb along the sensitive skin under her areola, slowly working higher until he could circle his way around her nipple.