She laughed and it felt good, as if it had broken some chain and lifted a load off her heart. “Why, you sweet-talker, you.” She fluttered a hand to her forehead and did her best fragile southern belle routine. “I feel faint from your poetic prose.”
He caught her hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss, but stopped and frowned at her fingers.
“You’re bleeding.” He snatched her other hand, but it was clean. He went back to her blood-covered fingers, searching for wounds. “Baby. What did you do?”
“I didn’t—” A thought struck: It wasn’t her blood. This was the same hand she’d petted him with when he was asleep. She sat up on her knees and peeked over his shoulder. Long, thin gouges criss-crossed his back, dripping blood.
“Oh my God. Alex.” Gripping his arm, she hauled him off the bed and turned his backside toward the antique full-length mirror propped in the corner of the room. She had to remove a couple articles of tossed-aside clothing to find the reflection. “Look.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Jesus, babe. You gotta clip your claws.”
She held up her hands, showing him her nails, white crescents that extended only to the tips of her fingers. “I keep them short.”
“What the hell?” Brows drawn, he squinted at the reflection of his ravaged back. “I didn’t even feel it.”
“How could you not—” Her fingers brushed over an old, puckered scar on his shoulder and she bit her lower lip. He’d told her he had a freakishly high tolerance to pain, but she didn’t believe it until now. “My God. When did this happen?”
“Looks fresh,” he said. He sounded clinical, like it wasn’t his own back that had been ripped to shreds. “Still bleeding.”
Then she must have done it in the heat of passion, even with short nails. Except she didn’t remember touching his back until she ran her hand down it while he slept. His butt and arms and shoulders, yes. His back, no. “Oh, Alex, I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” He turned away from the mirror and gathered her in his arms, kissing her forehead, her temple, her nose, her cheek, brushing away a surge of tears with his lips. “Pru, don’t cry. It’s noth—”
Crack!
The mirror splintered, sending reflective shrapnel boomeranging through the air.
***
“Get down!” Alex shoved Pru to the floor, shielding her body with his own as glass exploded. The mirror, the window—even the little figurines and perfume bottles on her dresser.
Then, silence.
He lifted his head, scanned the room and the night-darkened grounds outside the window as the air grew thick with the scents of the spilled perfumes. No sniper, no deadly bullet burrowed into the wall behind the shattered mirror. At least not that he could see.
Nick, his timing impeccable as always, burst through the door, primed for a fight. He took a quick assessment of the scene and relaxed a little. “I heard a scream—and not the good kind.”
“Call the cops,” Alex said and grabbed Pru’s robe from the floor. He swathed it around her shoulders to hide her body from Nick and rubbed her arms to stop her shivering.
“Alex,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face, voice shaking as badly as her body. “I want this to stop.”
“Me too, baby.” Ignoring his own semi-nakedness, he led her to the bed and sat her down, then finally tucked himself in and zipped his jeans before turning to Nick.
“You’re bleeding,” Nick said with an odd note of control in his voice.
His back. Shit. He grabbed a shirt and yanked it on, felt the cotton immediately cling to the fresh wounds. “Doesn’t matter. Someone’s taking shots at Pru.”
Nick’s golden eyes flashed. A predator with the scent of his prey’s blood. “Want me to track the bastard down?”
“Hell yeah.”
“What do you want me to do when I find him?”
Alex glanced over his shoulder. Pru had her ash-white face buried in her hands as her shoulders heaved with soft sobs. His back teeth ground together at the thought of someone wanting her hurt.
“Be creative,” he said.
“Roger that.”
CHAPTER 25
Of all people, Sheriff Forbes had to respond to the 9-1-1 call. Alex figured he should count his blessings that Rhett Swithin was not on duty, but the silver lining in the current situation eluded him. He felt impotent, pacing the bedroom in anxious circles, answering the same questions he’d answered the night of that damn mystery fire. Didn’t these podunk cops know how to do anything but ask redundant questions?
He wanted to be outside with Nick, tracking down the bastard who had the chutzpah to take a shot at Pru not once, but twice by his calculations. And when—not if; “if” was not in a D.I.E. Squadron soldier’s vocabulary. When they found the son of a bitch, he’d let Nick have his Indian fun then dole out some good old-fashioned Irish punishment of his own.
“So you didn’t see anyone?” Forbes asked, drawing Alex back from his dark musings. Scowling faintly, the sheriff took their statements and walked around the bedroom that still smelled of sex, paying far too much attention to the disheveled bed and not enough to the broken mirror and window.
“No,” Alex said feeling like a broken record. He sent a glance toward Pru, still sitting on the edge of her bed. Her housecoat gapped open, revealing magnificent cleavage and a hickey darkening the inside swell of her left breast. Oops. He curbed the urge to go to her and tie the robe shut. At least he’d had the presence of mind to pull on his shirt before the cavalry, as pitiful as it was, arrived. The scratches on his back would have sparked rumors far more risqué than the ones already circulating town. No doubt the hickey will add fodder to their mill, but he couldn’t do much about that now.
Forbes caught the glance and swung around to face her as well. His eyes dropped to her chest. “What about you, Prudence?”
She clasped the robe shut. “Hey, up here.”
Alex suppressed a smile and the sheriff had the grace to blush as he raised his eyes to her face. “Did you see anything, hear anything out of the ordinary?”
The moment of spunk was gone in an instant, the spark in her blue eyes fading to weariness. She shook her head and wouldn’t meet the sheriff’s gaze. “No, it all happened so fast. I mean, I didn’t see—we were—” She left the sentence unfinished. Forbes’s eyebrow quirked as he looked at the rumpled bed.
Alex cut in. “The shooter had to be hiding out in those trees.”
Frowning, Forbes crossed to the broken window. He scanned the copse of trees five-hundred yards away at the edge of the lawn. “That would be quite the shot,” he said. “With most of the leaves gone, there’s not much cover. There’d be major mathematics involved, shooting through a window at a small, moving target from five-hundred-plus yards at night. It’s damn near impossible.”
Hard, but not impossible, Alex thought and a list of people that could make that shot scrolled through his mind, himself and Nick included. Sully and Jacob could probably both do it without much effort. Kai and Malcolm could both do it blindfolded. All were very dangerous men, former D.I.E. But none had any reason to want Pru—or him—dead. Even if one of them did, he couldn’t list their names for Forbes or else he’d also have to supply an explanation he was not ready to give.
“Well,” Forbes said after examining the window and remains of the mirror again. He snapped his notebook shut. “I’ll take a walk around the perimeter, but honestly, there’s no evidence of a crime here. I’ll write up a report and tell the others to be on the lookout. Maybe have an extra patrol swing out this way at night. But there’s not much else I can do.”
“We’d really appreciate it,” Pru said and stood to show him out, but he waved her away.
“I know where the door is.” In the doorway, he stopped and his scowl returned. He waggled a finger in the air between the two of them. “This little tryst is only going to lead to trouble, Pru. He’s an outsider and shouldn’t be trusted worth a damn.”
Her
chin hitched up at a stubborn angle. “My personal life is my business, Sheriff.”
Alex didn’t know what he wanted to do more, throttle Forbes for being a jackass or saunter over, loop an arm around Pru, and kiss her breath away for standing up for herself. Maybe he could do both.
As the door closed, Pru let out a breath. “He’s right, you know.”
All thoughts of kissing her vanished. “What do you mean?”
“About us.” She waved a hand at the bed and his heart nose-dived into the pit of his stomach. Sure, he had wanted her to view the world with a little more suspicion, but not like this. Not him.
“Pru, it’s me. You trusted me enough to share your bed the last two nights.”
“Yes.” She dragged her teeth over her lower lip. “But that’s not like me at all. You’re only the second man I’ve ever—I don’t know why I—” She shook her head, blew out a huff of air. “None of this was happening until you showed up.”
“I thought you said this has all happened before.” The woman was so indecisive sometimes it was maddening. “You said your ghost has a history of setting fires and some such nonsense.”
“She does, but maybe once every ten years. Despite the rumors, she’s never hurt anyone. Besides, you think a sniper’s trying to kill me. Or maybe he’s trying to kill you. That would make more sense.”
Sully thinks someone’s after us, his inner cynic reminded, sounding a lot like Kai’s voice. Government, military, Interpol, Taliban, little green pygmies. We’re not popular guys.
Alex shoved the thought away. Maybe it was true, and he and his friends were on a hit list—wouldn’t be the first time—but the little green pygmies were not the threat to Pru. He knew it like he knew his own first name. The danger was much closer to home.
Pru raised a shaking hand to her temple, massaging in small circles. Her other arm wrapped around her middle and the robe gapped open again, showing off the hickey he’d given her by accident.
Flashes of memory invaded his brain. Her body bowing off the mattress when his thumb teased her clit. Her throaty moans as he lavished kisses on her breasts. The way she clasped his hands in hers and watched their bodies join until her eyes rolled back from the pleasure. Before he fell asleep, he’d listened to the soft sounds of her breath rustling over his hair and wondered if he could handle being alone, without her, ever again.
Nope, was the answer that had popped to mind right before sleep took him under. And now she was pushing him away.
“Pru.” He hated the desperate tone in his voice. Last night, she’d heard his sins and didn’t once judge him for any of it. He could confess anything, and she’d simply soothe away his demons.
Oh God, he couldn’t lose her.
She shook her head. “I think you’d better go.”
“Pru—” he tried again.
“Please. Just—” Her voice broke. “Leave. I can’t do this, okay?”
“What do you mean ‘can’t do this’? You can’t do what?”
She turned away, clenching her robe shut in a white-knuckled grip. “I loved my ex-husband very much, but when I needed him most, he tossed me away like I meant nothing to him. I can’t risk falling that much in love again. It’ll destroy me.” She faced him as fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “Don’t you get it, Alex? It will destroy me, but it’s happening anyway. You’re going to break my heart and I won’t be able to pull myself back together this time.”
The room became an airless vacuum. He opened his mouth, trying to draw in oxygen.
“Uh,” was his brilliant response. He shook his head once, then again. For some reason, he couldn’t form a coherent thought. “Are you saying you’re falling in love with me?”
“God.” She strode over to the bedroom doors, opening one side. “Get out.”
Good going, Al. You’re a regular Cassa-fucking-nova.
Ignoring his inner cynic, he crossed to her and gripped her shoulders, gave them a soothing rub. “Pru, wait. I messed that up.”
“No shit.”
“I just—what did you want me to say to that?”
“Nothing. I don’t want you to say a damn thing. Just leave.”
“I don’t want to.” With the arc of his finger, he guided her chin up, forcing her to look at him. Those earnest blue eyes, spilling over with tears, would haunt him forever if he didn’t make this right. He wanted to kiss her, soothe away every awkward word between them with his lips and body, but knew she wouldn’t accept that kind of comfort. She’d just accuse him of using sex to manipulate her.
“Baby, I’m sorry. You caught me off guard, that’s all. Love—it’s not something I’m very good at. Cut me some slack, okay? You gotta give me time to get used to the idea.” He watched the words melt the icy wall she was trying to build between them and some of the tension seeped out of him. She could throw up all the barriers she wanted. He’d just rip them down again.
“How can you be so cold one minute and so damn sweet the next?” She sighed and rubbed her forehead like she had a headache. Well, who could blame her? It had been a hell of a week. “It’s like you have a split personality. What you said to Nick earlier ….”
Fuck. He scrambled to remember, went over the conversation word-for-word. It had been a rather mild exchange compared to some of the conversations he’d had with Nick in the past. Nothing nasty or cruel. Certainly nothing that would make her balk like this.
“I’m sorry, Pru, I don’t remember. What did I say?”
She stepped out of reach and hugged herself, leaving his arms cold and a lead weight sitting in his gut. “When he asked what you wanted him to do when he found the guy, you said ‘be creative’.”
Oh. That. He mentally called himself a thousand kinds of fool. “I was angry.”
“I know. You’re a dangerous man and you—” Her voice caught. “You really scare me sometimes, Alex. I think I’ll be safer without you here.”
“Stop.” He snagged her in a hard embrace, feeling her body go stiff as he held her tight. She was shivering again. He rubbed his hands over her arms, wishing he could make her feel warm. “Okay. So maybe you’re regretting what’s happened between us, I don’t know. You’re confusing the hell out of me. But pushing me away will not make you feel any better about it, nor will it make you any safer.”
“But I was safe until you showed up in town,” she protested.
“No, you weren’t, and Grandma Mae believes me enough to entrust you to my care. She wants me to keep you safe and I don’t expect to let her down.”
At her puzzled expression, he drew a breath. Time to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but. She was going to be so pissed off, and he dreaded the conversation, but he couldn’t keep lying to her. Not when she was falling in love with him and he … well, he didn’t have the time or inclination right now to sort through the clusterfuck of emotions bouncing around inside him.
He let her go, linked his hands behind his neck and drew another fortifying breath. “Lookit, Pru. There’s something you need to know about me. But before I tell you, I—”
Nick strode through the door, saw or maybe felt the tension in the room and slammed to a halt. “Uh, am I interrupting?”
“No,” Alex said with a rush of guilty relief and Pru said overtop him, “Yes!”
Nick whistled. “Well. When you’re done in here, Al, I need to speak with you.”
“Be right out.” As the door shut, he turned to Pru. “We’ll talk later, okay?”
She shook her head. “I don’t have time. Tomorrow is Pumpkinfest and the diner’s supposed to have a booth set up. I have about fifty billion things to do to get ready and then I have to be there first thing in the morning.”
“All right. I’ll go with you—” He shushed her as she opened her mouth to protest. “I’m going with you. Then, tomorrow night, when everyone’s gone to bed, we’ll talk. Just me and you. No interruptions.”
“And you’ll tell me what the hell’s going on?”
�
�I’ll explain everything.” He leaned forward a millimeter to dust a kiss across her forehead, but thought better of it and backed up a step. She did not want kisses or comforts from him now. She wanted answers.
***
“So what’s up?” After leaving the bedroom, he found Nick standing on the porch, wearing a deep frown.
“Nothin’ that couldn’t wait.” Nick’s thick, shoulder-length hair hung loose, the salty wind playing through the dark strands. “Sorry to interrupt. Living by myself for so long, I reckon I’ve forgotten manners.”
“You don’t have to live alone, you know,” Alex said. “It’s not a requirement to stay sober.”
“But it’s easier.” His lips flattened into a grim line. “Besides, I’m not like you. Women aren’t exactly clamberin’ to jump into bed with me. Most take the long way around me on the street.”
He was underestimating himself, a bad habit Alex had been trying to break him of for years, but Alex wasn’t going to nag about it now. He had other things to worry about.
Like Pru.
“So I take it you didn’t find the piece of shit who took a shot at Pru.” He leaned his forearms on the porch railing and yawned, gazing out over the Atlantic. The ocean churned under a clear, navy sky and bright half-moon.
“There was no trail,” Nick said and mimicked his position.
“What?”
He lifted one shoulder. “Exactly what I said. Whoever did it left absolutely no trail behind.”
“Impossible. Even the best sniper would leave something. A spent shell casing he couldn’t find, a broken branch, a footprint, trampled grass. Something.”
“I walked the property three times, Al, and the only human life I saw was that sad excuse of a sheriff standin’ at the edge of the woods, squintin’ into the trees, and takin’ a leak.”
It didn’t surprise Alex that the Forbes’s promised walk around the perimeter was anything but.
Vision of Darkness (D.I.E. Squadron Book 1) Page 23
