by Mallory Kane
Rachel thought about what he’d said to Mitch.
A sense of direction. An instinct. Dread washed over her.
“I faded in and out of consciousness, but I tried to pretend I was asleep the whole time. They obviously thought I should be. I guess the antagonist medication they gave me at Walter Reed is kicking in.”
The flashlight beam wavered.
Rachel’s heart went out to him.
“I remember a syringe—a needle. A stinging at the base of my skull.” He blew out a breath. “I remember a burning sensation in my head, like it was on fire. It was hard to stay still.” He sent her a quick glance. “I remember seeing Metzger.”
He turned to face her, the flashlight’s halo lighting his face. She saw the feverish panic in his eyes. “I think Metzger extracted something from my brain. Remember Caleb talking about Metzger sucking out his brains?”
She remembered, but her instinct was to protect Metzger. He was a fellow physician. He’d taken the same oath she had. “Dr. Metzger’s first priority is to help his patients, not hurt them. We both know Caleb has delusions. I never saw anything like that in Caleb’s chart.”
Eric’s face darkened in anger. “And you think I’m having the same delusions?”
“You’re receiving the same drug. That’s got to be affecting you. It was probably a routine procedure.”
“I’m telling you it was not routine. I believe Metzger’s using the fluids he extracts to create the injections I’m getting every day. The ones that are recorded in the chart as fenpiprazole. You said yourself that Metzger’s theory is based on immunizing patients against their own brain chemicals.”
“You were drowsy. Maybe you dreamed—”
“I did not dream anything,” he snapped. “Damn it, Rachel—”
A noise behind them froze them both in place. A sliver of light shot across the worn tile.
Eric’s arms encircled her and lifted her off her feet. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he propelled her silently backward, into the far corner of the stacks, then lowered her to the floor.
He whispered through her com unit. “Shh. They won’t see us if we stay perfectly still.”
Rachel lay beneath Eric, his hard, lean body pressed along her length, sending erotic signals to her brain. Her breasts tightened, her breathing quickened.
How did they keep ending up in these dangerous situations with their limbs entwined, so close they were practically breathing as one person?
The lights came on. Rachel cringed and Eric’s body tensed. The corner where they hid was shrouded in shadow, but anyone who got close enough would be able to see them.
The swinging gate that separated the front of the room from the shelves creaked.
He’s in the stacks, Rachel mouthed.
Eric nodded once. His breath was hot against her cheek. His arms sheltered her and his bare chest pressed against her breasts. She was hyperaware of him, of his barely controlled breathing, of his steel-hard muscles, of his growing hardness against her belly.
She swallowed and tried not to think about how quickly and easily she responded to him.
Beyond them, soft footsteps marked the approach of the person who might turn the corner at any second and find them. Rachel heard the unmistakable sound of papers rustling. She held her breath as adrenaline pumped through her veins like her blood.
If she were caught in such a compromising position with a patient, she’d be fired. Moreover, she’d probably lose her license to practice medicine forever.
Eric’s chest rose and fell against her sensitive breasts.
The gate creaked again and the quiet footsteps moved away. Then the light went out and the door’s click echoed in the sudden quiet.
For several seconds neither of them moved.
Rachel felt Eric’s rapid heartbeat as it synched with hers. After what could have been one second or an eternity, he lifted his head.
The darkness was so complete after the harsh shock of light, that if it hadn’t been for the glow in his eyes and the secure strength of his body, she’d have screamed in terror.
Her breath shuddered out. “I thought we’d be caught.”
“Me, too.”
“Eric—” She shifted and he made a low, pained sound deep in his throat.
Then he pulled away. “Sorry,” he whispered.
“Oh, please, don’t—” she whispered.
Eric tried without success to calm his out-of-control desire. He filled his mind with their risky close call, but that only fueled the hunger that surged through him.
He’d never felt like this. It was the danger, his rational brain calmly asserted. Nothing like almost getting caught to add to the excitement.
Rachel’s hands slid around his bare waist and up his back. “Don’t move away. It’s so dark,” she whispered. “I’m scared.”
Her hands burned hotter than the damn needle this morning. He shivered with instant reaction. The heat of her hands and the warm caress of her breath engulfed him.
“I feel your heart pounding. Are you scared, too?”
He nodded, hearing her need for reassurance in her voice.
“Not of the dark.” He was afraid of her. Of her ability to make him believe he could have a normal life. Of the hold her strong, delicate body had over him. Of the part of himself he’d never shown to anyone, but that he knew she deserved to see.
The part that would frighten her away.
“Of what then?”
Her words echoed in stereo in his head. Here in the dark, alone with her, could he tell her the truth? “I’m afraid of you.”
She stiffened.
“Of this.” He closed his eyes and pressed himself against her, laying his cheek against hers so that her silky hair tickled his nose. “I have a hard time opening up to people.”
Her lips touched his ear and something happened inside him. A dam broke between his heart and his body, and the pent-up passion he’d never allowed to surface flowed over him. It took all his self-control to keep from coming right then.
He clenched his jaw and braced himself to stop this foolishness before it went any further.
But Rachel’s lips moved against his ear. “Don’t leave me yet,” she begged.
He turned his head. She turned hers at the same moment and their mouths met in a careful, slow kiss. He didn’t move a muscle, holding on to the last frayed strand of his restraint with all his might.
She leaned in, giving more, seeking more. Without meaning to, he found himself giving her what she sought. His tongue touched her soft, full lips and her moan slid through him, a potent aphrodisiac that left him rigid and pulsing.
He turned, pulling her fully against him, kissing her with an abandon he’d never even allowed himself to imagine. His prior experiences with women were reduced to adolescent memories as he gave himself over to the incredible feel of her supple, shapely body. She felt like the finest satin, wrapped around him.
And he knew, he knew, what she was feeling. Her hesitant movements, her trembling limbs, told him she was as surprised and overwhelmed as he.
He slid his hand up under her black sweater, craving the feel of her bare skin against his fingers.
“Do we have time?” she whispered, her fingers tracing his biceps up to his shoulders.
Ah, hell. Her words hit him like a bucket of ice water. He took a sharp breath and rolled away.
“What is it?”
“I have to get back.” His voice reflected the intense control that he had to dredge up from within to quench the fire that had almost consumed him. He groaned as he sat up, his arousal aching.
“I’m on two-hour bed checks now, but I’ve been gone a long time.”
He stood, his legs unsteady, and held out his hand.
Rachel let him help her up, using her other hand to straighten her sweater.
“Rachel, we need to talk. Come upstairs with me.”
She stared at him. “And do what? Hide under your bed?”
&nbs
p; He shrugged. “There are things we need to discuss.”
He felt her tense.
“May I have the flashlight please?” Her voice was carefully controlled.
He handed it to her and followed her as she found her way back to the door that led to the basement.
“We can talk through our com units,” she said crisply. “I need to stay here and search through the unfiled records. I know your ID number, and of course I’ll only be looking at records that begin with the number two. That will eliminate a lot.”
“No.”
“Yes.” She propped her fists on her hips. “Didn’t Mitch tell you that Caleb is not getting better? The longer he remains unconscious, the higher the chances he’ll contract an infection or go into a coma.”
He knew she was right. He had to trust her to be careful. “Stay in constant contact with me. Tell me where you are every second, and if I turn off my com, it will only be because I’m being watched. I’ll turn it back on as soon as possible.” He wrapped a hand around her neck, feeling her resist his touch.
“Keep your com unit on. Promise me.”
Her chin went up, but she nodded. “I promise.”
“I’ll try to get into the sunroom. That way I can see the guard and can warn you when he’s headed around the building.”
He caressed her cheek with his thumb. God, he hated to leave her down here alone.
“Be careful,” he whispered, then he headed for the service stairs.
Chapter Nine
The next night Rachel met with the FBI agent. Despite their close call, the search the night before had yielded nothing about Caleb. Rachel had spent a restless night, tortured by the memory of Eric’s body against hers.
Then Mitch had called her first thing in the morning to let her know of the meeting. All day, she’d had to force herself to concentrate on her patients instead of the clock.
Now, she drove through the darkness, rain falling much too fast for the windshield wipers to push it out of the way. Rachel drove carefully, turning up the defroster to keep the windshield clear. Up ahead, she saw the small road sign that read Meadows Lane.
A shaky sigh escaped her lips. She was almost home. The meeting at a restaurant in the next town had been uneventful, if one considered a clandestine rendezous with a secret agent to exchange documents uneventful.
It occurred to her how different her life had become in less than one week. All her life, she’d pursued normalcy with the zeal of a religious convert. It had taken her a long time, after her chaotic childhood, to learn that it was actually possible to live quietly and safely.
But now, suddenly, she was caught in a bizarre world where murder investigations and secret meetings and danger were everyday events.
She hadn’t realized how nervous she’d been about the meeting until now. As she made the turn, she noticed the stiffness in her fingers from clutching the steering wheel.
She took the long circular drive around to the staff apartments and pulled into her parking place, right outside her apartment door.
Before she braved the pouring rain, she made sure the copies of the blueprints the agent had given her were secure inside her backpack.
Then she jumped out of her car and dashed toward her door without an umbrella, key in hand.
She turned the key quickly and ducked inside, sighing in relief as she closed the door behind her and reached toward the light switch.
She wasn’t alone. The thought skittered through her brain as if someone had whispered it to her. Her com unit was off, though, so it couldn’t have been Eric. She froze, her gaze sweeping the kitchen area to the left of the door.
The night-light she always left burning over her sink bathed the room in a pale blue glow. But the green and purple screen saver that started up after twenty minutes of no action on her computer wasn’t on. Instead she saw an open file. Someone had recently touched her computer.
Suddenly a dark shape blocked the computer’s glare. Before she had time to react, the shape slammed into her, shoving her out of its way and into the kitchen counter. She hit hard, knocking a glass onto the floor, then fell, her palms and right knee crunching on broken glass. She cried out in pain and surprise.
The door flew open behind her. Rachel whirled, but all she saw was a big shadow disappearing into the haze of rain.
She sat up, her hands and knee stinging. Frantic, she groped for her backpack, wincing when her hand touched the rough canvas.
Gulping air in huge terrified sobs, she hugged her backpack to her chest and scrambled to her feet. She pushed her door closed and threw the latch. Her rational brain noted that the lock still worked and the door hadn’t been forced, which meant that whoever had invaded her apartment had used a key. The security guards probably had master keys to every room on the grounds. That thought did not make her feel safe.
She put the chain on with shaky fingers, feeling silly. If someone wanted to get in, a hardware store chain lock wasn’t going to keep them out. But it made her feel a tiny bit safer to hear the reassuringly solid rattle of metal against metal.
For a panic-stricken instant, she considered running out to her car and driving away—but where would she go? To the FBI?
No. FBI agents probably dealt with situations like this all the time. If Mitch Decker thought she was incapable of handling a simple break-in, he’d probably jerk her out of there so fast her head would spin, and make good on his promise to lock her in protective custody until the investigation was over.
She shook her head, feeling dwarfed by the powerful presence of the stately building on the hill and intimidated by the magnitude of her task. Yet she couldn’t leave. Not while Eric was still here. She had to stay, for his sake.
She put her hand over her mouth, trying to control her spasming lungs. She was about to hyperventilate. Someone had been in her apartment, touched her computer. Who? What else had they touched? And what were they hoping to find?
She looked down at the navy-blue backpack she carried with her everywhere. The backpack that had held the doctor’s order forms until earlier this evening, when she’d turned them over to the FBI agent. Then she peered at the computer. What had the intruder been searching for? The open file was titled Journal. Rachel had been typing a little each night since she’d been at the Meadows, recording her experiences here. Her last entry had been five days ago on Tuesday, the day she’d been kidnapped.
Luckily, she’d been too busy, or too tired, to journal since she’d been back. Staring at her mundane words only emphasized the bizarre nature of her life since her kidnapping. And it had only gotten more bizarre since Eric had gone undercover as his brother. At first, all the sneaking around, dodging guards and dogs and taking secret messages had been exciting, even titillating.
But all at once, within the space of a few seconds, she no longer felt safe. Her world, which she had worked so hard to make structured and secure, had turned fragile.
She pressed the button that turned on her com unit. She heard the dead quiet that meant Eric’s unit wasn’t on. But still she tried. “Eric?” she said.
Glancing at the clock on the kitchen wall, she saw that it was 8:35p.m. It would be forty minutes before Eric turned his com unit on for the last time tonight. At eight-fifteen, she hadn’t tried to contact him, because she’d been out of the five-mile range.
“Damn it, Eric,” she whispered, her voice cracking. Why didn’t he ever feel the need to turn the unit on as she occasionally did, just check to see if she was listening or might need him.
“I need you,” she whispered.
She bent to pick up a shard of glass and her knee screamed in protest.
“Ow!” Tears sprang to her eyes. She limped into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror.
She was a mess. Her hair was soaked and plastered to her head. A wide streak of red stained her forehead and left cheek where she’d wiped them with her bleeding hands. Her eyes were red-rimmed with tears. She reached up to wipe the blood off her c
heek and her stinging palm left more red than it wiped away. She turned her hands over. Her palms sparkled with slivers of glass.
She spent some time digging it out of her hands and knee, then washed the cuts and splashed water on her face, rinsing off the blood. She combed her wet hair back. The streaks of blood were gone but she still looked like she felt.
One heartbeat away from panic.
A faint ringing sound reached her ears. It was the FBI cell phone. She stared at her wide-eyed reflection in the mirror, wanting to ignore the call. She did not want to talk to anyone except Eric.
But the ringing persisted. She slung a terry-cloth robe she kept hanging on the back of the door around her as she hurried to her backpack and fished the phone out of the side pocket.
“Rachel? It’s Mitch Decker.”
“Oh, Mitch. Hi.”
His deep, steady voice made tears well in her eyes. She swallowed, afraid he could hear her distress.
“I spoke to Agent Simmons. He said the exchange went smoothly this evening. Are you all right?”
“S-sure.” She grimaced, certain he could tell she was lying. She had to get control of her emotions. Mitch had threatened to lock her in a safe house once. If he thought she was too emotional, he might actually do it.
She would not be taken away. Eric needed her.
“Where are you?”
“I’m in my apartment. I just got back. It…it’s been raining, and these roads are not well marked.” She bit her lip as hard as she dared, struggling to control the trembling sobs that kept trying to escape her throat.
“Are you saying you had an accident?”
“No.” She pressed her fingertips against her mouth for an instant. “Close enough to scare me, but no. No accident.” She cleared her throat. “I’m fine.”
“Rachel—” Mitch’s kind, authoritative voice penetrated her fragile self-control.
