by Amy Gamet
She couldn’t help her smile. “Glow sticks?”
He smiled back. “We prefer to call them ChemLights.”
“Either way, Brady’s going to be all over those. You’d better hide them.”
There was an intimacy in the moment, the two of them grinning in the glow from the ChemLight, and Hannah wondered if extreme sleep deprivation was an aphrodisiac. She was suddenly looking at Noah as a man instead of a threat or a question mark. A big, strong brute of a man who had done more to take care of her in a few hours than anyone else had done in what seemed like forever.
She took a big breath in. “I haven’t slept in forty-eight hours.”
He stood. “Let’s get you settled, then.” He handed her the glowing light, cracking another one for himself before scooping Brady up and heading down a hallway.
She followed, the hardworking, masculine scent of him trailing behind him on the air, and she imagined the smell worked like bread crumbs to lead lonely women to love, or at least some mind-blowing sex. A crazed giggle bubbled up from her belly without permission.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.”
“Must be a really good one if you’re not willing to share.”
“I’m just tired. Getting punchy.”
“Punchy?”
“You know.” She shrugged. “Goofy. Silly. Overtired.”
He stopped walking and she nearly ran into him, her eyes flicking from the massive wall of his chest and her sleeping son to his eyes.
Sweet Jiminy Cricket.
His eyes were smoldering and for the briefest moment she let herself pretend she might do something about it. “Yeah.” Her voice sounded dreamy and suggestive, and she licked her lips, not knowing if she was serious or out of her mind completely.
He gestured to a doorway next to them. “You’re in here.”
She held up her ChemLight, illuminating the space. There was a king-sized bed, a dresser, a comfortable-looking chair, and a small desk. It was clearly the master. “Where are you going to sleep?”
“There’s another bedroom across the hall.” He moved to the far side of the bed, pulled the covers back, and tucked the sleeping Brady into bed beside her.
Her fatigue was back, pulling her down like ankle weights in water. She sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ve got to go to sleep.”
“I’ll get my suturing supplies.”
She wanted to tell him to forget it, that she’d rather just bleed out as long as she could close her eyes, but she just sat there waiting for him to get back, her shoulders slumped forward.
“Hannah, wake up.”
Her eyes snapped open. “I’m awake.”
“Lean back. I’ll stitch it while you sleep.”
She blew out air. How could anyone get stitches without waking up? She leaned back on the pillow, unable to stop herself.
The next thing she knew her eyes were closed, the smell of shampoo in the air. A warm, wet cloth gently caressed her head and she moaned softly with pleasure. Noah was washing her hair, cleaning away the blood, and it felt so good to be touched, even like this. She could smell him again, and the scent had the subtle pulse of desire gently beating in her veins.
“You’re going to feel the lidocaine,” he said quietly.
She furrowed her brow, her eyes still closed. “You didn’t have any painkillers.”
“I was saving it in case I needed it later.”
The piercing of the needle was painful and she was instantly grateful she wouldn’t need to feel any more after it. She was fast asleep before he began stitching.
10
Noah closed the door to the guest room, shucked off his jeans, and stepped out of them.
Not my jeans. Hannah’s husband’s.
He stared at the pile of denim as if it held the answer to a question he couldn’t put into words. The wind was howling outside his window, debris hitting the wood like hail, but the hurricane was nothing compared to the storm inside his soul.
What had started as a shitty day in his everyday life had spun on its head and left him battered and worn. If it weren’t for Hannah, he didn’t know what he’d be like right now.
Hannah.
He sat down on his bed, rubbing the stubble along his cheeks. She was a stranger, not his saving grace. He’d all but kidnapped her, for Christ’s sake. He stared into space, feeling the desperation that had coursed through his bloodstream when he’d aimed that gun at her and demanded she help him. If she hadn’t, he might not be alive right now, much less aching for her.
And he was aching.
She was so tired she’d all but collapsed into sleep, showing a vulnerability at odds with the way she handled herself during the day. She was strong and determined, bright and outspoken, and he liked her far more than he had any right to like someone he’d treated so badly.
He’d put her in a difficult position, never intending to stay in her company after she’d stitched up his wounds. But once he’d seen how ill-prepared she was to weather the storm, he’d had to step in and force her to take the help she wouldn’t accept when he’d offered.
Now she and Brady were under his roof. The poor kid was obviously missing his father and had decided Noah made a suitable replacement. The speed with which Brady adopted Noah made him suspect Hannah hadn’t brought any other man into that space since her husband died.
A steady stream of salty air came in through the tiniest space between the wood and window molding, bringing the scent of the storm. They were physically safe here, but having Hannah and her son with him changed things a great deal, lending a wildcard value to the next few days he hadn’t been anticipating.
He held the ChemLight to the entry wound on his thigh. The skin around the stitches was slightly inflamed and angry, but it wasn’t clear to him if it was infected just yet. He made his way back out to the living room and retrieved his go bag, swallowing a strong dose of antibiotics dry before climbing back into bed.
Hannah had fallen asleep before she’d been able to look at the exit wound, which was just as well since he’d had a hard-on he didn’t feel like putting on display.
It had started when she walked into him in the darkness, their bodies connecting and completing the circuit of electricity like a stun gun lighting up the night. The adrenaline that had been pumping through his body all day had primed his system, the idea of sex like a grounding rod for that extra energy, the path of least resistance so difficult to deny.
That was all it was.
He leaned back against the pillows, pulling the fluffy covers over half his body and leaving the other half exposed to the air. He could see her face in the glow of the ChemLight, so perfect and shining back at him like he’d wished it would all day. Punchy, she’d said. She was tired.
Right.
He would have liked to have woken her up with kisses.
Bad idea, Ryker.
His mind was full of them tonight.
He could have kept his thoughts tightly reined in if she hadn’t wanted him, too. He’d washed her hair, her sexy sounds of pleasure almost more than he could bear. It was a good thing the kid was there to rule out any funny business, because the devil on Noah’s shoulder wanted to see what other noises he could get her to make—maybe without even waking her up.
Fuck.
He slipped his hand into his briefs and fisted it firmly around his cock, stroking his length while he imagined what he would like to do to her, his mind hearing the sexy sounds she would make when he really turned her on.
There was a knock at the door and he pulled his hand from beneath the covers. “Yes?”
She opened it, the ChemLight once again illuminating her face. “I forgot to check your wound.”
“It’s okay. I looked at it already.”
“The back? You can’t even see it.”
“I took some antibiotics just to be safe.”
She sat on the edge of the bed. “You were bleeding on the way up the stairs. I need to make sure
it didn’t come open.”
“Okay.” He rolled onto his side. Instead of going down, his cock was begging for her touch. When her fingers grazed the hair on the back of his leg, he moaned reflexively.
“I think it’s infected. What did you take?”
“Eight hundred milligrams of penicillin.”
“Hopefully that will take care of it. Roll over.”
Fuck. “I already checked the entry wound.”
“Would you just let me see?”
He rolled over, his cock tenting the blankets dramatically, the glow of the ChemLight casting heavy shadows. He might as well have been naked.
Her mouth opened into a cupid’s bow, her stare firmly on his cock.
“Sorry,” he said.
She moved her light closer to his body and pulled back the covers to expose the wound on his other leg, dangerously close to his erection.
“This side isn’t as bad,” she said, leaning over his leg, and his dick bounced as if trying to get her attention.
Over here!
She pulled the covers back over his thigh. “It’s been a long day for both of us,” she said. “I think I’ll go back to bed.”
“Good idea.”
She didn’t move.
He didn’t breathe.
The air between them was as charged as the air outside. She lifted her chin but didn’t face him. “I’ve missed being with a man more than I would have thought possible.”
He groaned. “Hannah.” Her shoulder was within reach and he touched it, letting her silky skin slide across the pads of his fingers.
He heard her breath catch.
Just from that one touch.
“Come here,” he said huskily.
She didn’t move. “I’m as bad as my son, latching on to you like this.”
“We need each other tonight.”
She turned her head, meeting his eyes for the first time, and he saw the desire that filled them, molten hot like lava and desperate for him. She touched his chest, her fingers curling in his chest hair, and he opened his mouth as he exhaled shakily.
She froze for a split second, cursing under her breath before shooting out of bed.
He sat up. “Hannah?”
He heard Brady’s small voice calling for her and fell back against the bed. She wasn’t coming back. Disappointment gutted him. She’d been right there, as desperate for their connection as he was, her fingers on his skin a tantalizing sensation.
He sighed heavily. It was for the best. Nothing good could possibly come of sleeping with her. She was obviously hurting and admittedly exhausted. If they’d come together, he knew in his heart he’d just be taking further advantage of her, and that sure as hell wasn’t right.
No, better he remember why he came here in the first place.
Lizzie.
Yes, he needed to focus. He needed to find out what really happened to his sister. He mentally laid out a plan to learn everything he could about her association with Joe Fielding and exactly what she’d known. He’d start in her condo, but he’d need to get into the hospital, too.
Which meant the lovely Dr. Fielding would remain essential to his mission, and he would not be letting her go anytime soon. He just needed to keep their relationship on level footing and not give in to the temptation to make love to her before he found out what he needed to know.
11
Hannah awoke with Brady’s foot in her face, the boy’s body upside down beside her. His limbs were cold and she twisted him around and beneath the covers he was forever kicking aside.
Light spilled through the seam around the window, telling her it was morning. She could still hear the wind outside but it was far better than it had been when she fell asleep. She squeezed her eyes shut as she remembered touching Noah’s bare chest, the springy hair on her fingertips and the warmth of his very male, very alive skin.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, horrified.
I all but begged him to have sex with me.
Thank God Brady woke up before you straddled Noah like a saddle.
She shook her head. How the hell was she going to face him this morning?
She wondered how bad it was outside. Maybe she could mumble her thanks and skate out the door without further incident. Convinced that was how this would go, she unwound herself from her son and tiptoed from the room.
It was dark in the hall and living room, as well, the windows board up with no lights or power. She moved to the sliding glass doors, where a bit of light escaped around the handle, trying to see outside. The doors were the only glass still intact in the condo.
“I’ll take the plywood off of there for you,” said Noah.
She spun around. “I didn’t see you there.”
He stood. “I’ve been up for a while.”
“What time is it?”
“Just past ten.”
He went down the hall, returning with a hammer. He walked like a panther and her throat felt dry. He pried the plywood away from the sliders. He was shirtless and wore pajama pants, the muscles of his back and arms standing out in relief from the shadows.
Sex appeal on a stick. That’s what he was. She shook her head to clear it. “Do you have anything to drink?”
“Bottled water in the kitchen. When I get this open, I can make coffee. The camp stove needs to be outside.”
“I’m not a coffee drinker. I like tea.”
“You’re welcome to look in the cabinets. Lizzie might have had some tea.”
She moved to the kitchen and found the water, taking a long sip before exploring the cabinets. It felt wrong to be going through the cupboards of a woman she barely knew, who’d died right here in this very place. Teacups, plates. Glasses. Was Noah right? Had Joe shared his concerns about the missing drugs with Lizzie Ryker?
A tall cupboard proved to be a pantry, a small selection of tea bags on the top shelf. She walked back into the living room, the doors now uncovered, a stunning view of the ocean beyond. Noah opened the door and stepped onto the balcony, wind whipping into the condo. She followed.
“Look down. We’re like an island,” said Noah.
She moved to the railing. Where there should have been a beach, there was only water. It continued to the condominium, where it splashed against it like the sea on cliffs. She gasped. “How far do you think it goes?”
“I already tried to make it to street level. There’s water in the stairwell about half a flight deep—maybe six or seven feet. From the hallway window on the second floor all I can see is water.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
They stood quietly for several minutes, her thoughts wandering to last night. She would have slept with him. Just like that, mere hours after he pointed a gun at her, she would have climbed into his bed like there was nothing to it but a little no-holds-barred lust. What the hell was wrong with her?
“Hannah, about last night…”
She sucked in her stomach. She was embarrassed and more than a little disgusted with herself, and her cheeks heated. “It was a mistake. I know.”
“That’s not what I was going to say.”
She dared a look at him, those damnable steely eyes homing in on hers. “Can we just forget it ever happened?”
He looked out at the ocean. “We’re going to be together for days. You don’t want to talk about it?”
“What is there to say? Sorry I threw myself at you last night, it won’t happen again? I feel stupid enough already without that conversation.”
“Why do you feel stupid?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please.”
“We both wanted the same thing. I don’t feel stupid. Out of line, for sure. I took advantage of you yesterday—first when I needed your help and later when I brought you to this place when you didn’t want to come. It was wrong of me to think of you that way, but there’s no reason you should feel anything but desirable.”
His words made her body light up, warmth curling in her midsection.
She folded her arms over her chest and stared at the ocean. Just how long were they going to be here together? She’d never lived through a hurricane and had no idea how long it took the waters to recede.
One night with this man and she’d already behaved badly. The very last thing on earth she wanted to do was have a repeat performance of last night, and the longer they were together, the more likely that was to happen.
“When Brady wakes up, I’m going to go through Lizzie’s desk and see what I can find, just like I went through your husband’s. I’m going to use this time to find out what I can, but after that, you should know that I’m going to ask for your help one last time.”
“What now?”
“I need to get into the hospital.”
“No. I can’t do that.”
“She’s my sister. I have to do everything I can to find out what happened to her. Don’t you want to know if Joe’s death was really a heart attack or not?”
She swallowed her reluctance to share the depth of her suspicions. “The microscope. I brought it home from the hospital along with some slides I had prepared from his body at my own expense.”
“Why?”
“I told you I had my doubts about his cause of death.” She shrugged. “I’m a doctor. This is how I investigate.”
He nodded. “We both need answers. You can set up on the dining room table if you like.”
“Thank you.”
“I am going to need your help to get into the hospital, Hannah.”
“Even if I let you in the front door, the offices are locked. There’s nothing I can do to get you inside them.”
“I can get past a lock. Is there an alarm system?”
“Some of the doors are alarmed. Not all. I’m not sure how much of the building will be powered by the backup generators.”
“Probably just the ones I want to get through. That’s usually the way it works.” He gave her a sardonic grin.
She moved to the microscope and carried it to the table. “Brady could sleep through a three-ring circus. You don’t need to wait for him to wake up if you want to get started.”
