Emergency Contact

by Susan Peterson

  Helpless, Tess clung to the newswoman’s soothing tones.

  “Enjoying unprecedented popularity—a popularity never before experienced by a sitting vice president—Starling can only be labeled a valuable asset when it comes to President Rone’s reelection. Rone, who is viewed by many Americans as morose, brooding and horribly out of touch with the people, has little chance of being reelected without Starling on the ticket. If Starling deserts the ticket, many insiders predict that President Rone will be in for the fight of his life and that reelection will no longer be within his reach.”

  The screen behind the anchorwoman changed again, showing a crowd of longshoremen gathered around a tieless Starling. The men surrounding him were clapping him on the back and vying to shake his hand. A breeze off the water behind them ruffled Starling’s wheat-colored hair, giving him a youthful and movie-starish quality.

  “The vice president’s chief advisor, Eli Morgan, refused to comment on the validity of any of these rumors. He has asked that people wait until the vice president is ready to make an official announcement before speculating as to what this is all about. In spite of the rumblings rocketing through the power brokers in Washington, Vice President Starling has stayed above the hoopla by concentrating on his goodwill trip to South America. He is expected to return to the United States later today.”

  “Are you okay, Tess?” Ryan asked.

  Startled, Tess looked up, the bottle of cola falling from her nerveless fingers and hitting the table with a thud.

  From what seemed like a great distance away, she watched as Ryan jumped up, dodging the stream of liquid that spread out rapidly across the table. He grabbed a handful of napkins and quickly blotted up the spill, his eyes watching her with concern. But he didn’t speak or try to intervene. She knew that by now he’d recognized her pattern and was waiting her out to see if a new flashback would be brought to her consciousness.

  But even as this thought flashed through her brain, an excruciating jolt of pain shot through her head and Tess cried out, and her body jerked, sending her shoulders slamming back against the chair.

  She clamped both hands to her head and rubbed, desperately trying to soothe away the pain shooting up from between her eyes.

  “Easy, Tess? Just let it come. Don’t fight it. Talk to me, tell me what you’re feeling.”

  She opened her mouth, but nothing came out, and then suddenly he was beside her. His warmth and concern seemed to surround and enclose her even as her body shook with waves of pain. His voice, smooth and caressing, seemed to wrap her in a cocoon of safety. God, she loved that voice. It was her anchor. Her salvation. And in the darkness surrounding her, Tess struggled to reach out for it, to hold on to it before she slipped away into whatever ugliness hugged the surface below.

  He knelt next to her, his hands on hers as he tried to draw them away from her face.

  Tess lifted her head, dazed. Confused. Her vision was blurred and Ryan’s face disappeared into a brilliant kaleidoscope of color. She blinked trying to see through the shifting colors.

  But instead of the motel room, the frightening image of the man lying in a spreading pool of red was back. The people around him cried and screamed. And as she watched, the pool widened and grew at an alarming rate. Slowly the crowd seemed to step back and she could see the man’s face. She jumped, a small whimper slipping from her lips. The man was Vice President Starling.

  Her legs trembled, and her fingers tightened on the arm of the chair, but she didn’t fight the image. She allowed herself to totally immerse herself in it. As she watched the reel play out in her head, the pool of blood widened and soaked the trademark wheat-colored hair. Starling’s eyes were open, staring vacantly up at her.

  Tess shuddered and gasped for breath. Bile rose in her throat and threatened to drown her. She sucked hot air, her entire body shaking with shock and rage.

  “Tess, open your eyes. Talk to me. Tell me what you see so I can help you.” Ryan’s voice cut through the image and she struggled to concentrate on it, to hold on to the calm, deep tones like a drowning victim clung to a life ring. If she ever needed Ryan Donovan it was now.

  “I—I can’t breathe,” she gasped. Another shock of excruciating pain washed over her and she whimpered. “Hea-head hurts.”

  Ryan’s hand stroked the center of her back, directly between her shoulder blades, and the soft timber of his voice reached down through the pain and calmed her. “Don’t panic, Tess. Slow, deep breaths. You’re okay. You’re going to be fine.”

  But his words were no sooner out of his mouth than the pain shifted, hitting the pit of her stomach and doubling her over. I’m not going to make it, she thought. I’m going to lose it right here.

  Jumping up, she ran for the bathroom, slamming the door after her.

  She barely had time to register the fact that the place was surprisingly clean considering the condition of the rest of the motel room before she hit her knees and lost what little food was in her stomach.

  As she retched, she heard Ryan’s voice through the door, “Open the door, Tess.”

  “Go away,” she said weakly, barely able to lift her head. “I’m okay. Just a little nauseous.”

  She leaned her forehead against the cold tiles lining the wall. They felt like a cool cloth on her hot forehead.

  Ryan rattled the doorknob. “Open the door.”

  She closed her eyes and commenced to shake, the chills taking over her body with a vengeance. “I’m okay. Just give me a minute alone.”

  She didn’t want him to see her this way—retching and sweaty, her hair in her face and her body racked with tremors. She hated this feeling of being out of control. Weak and shivering. It diminished her and made her seem less than she was. And if there was one thing Tess hated more than anything, it was being seen as weak.

  She retched again, and Ryan jiggled the doorknob harder. “Open the door, Tess. Now.” His tone held none of its familiar calm, signaling a loss of patience. Tess figured that he was about ready to come through the door, lock or no lock.

  Reaching up, Tess undid the bolt and Ryan stepped inside. He crouched down beside her, one hand coming out to cup her chin and turning her head toward him.

  His warmth seeped into the clammy coolness of her skin and a flush of warmth shot through her. Tess blinked and stared up into the infinite compassion in his eyes. How did he have so much to give?

  For the first time since they’d started their run, Tess noticed the dark smudges under his exquisite eyes. Fatigue seemed to infuse the muscle of his solid frame, and short strands of black hair lay in disarray across his forehead. She reached up and gently pushed them back, her fingers tangling in the threads for a moment before he shifted slightly.

  Her heart wondered if he’d ever allow himself to take rather than receive. He’d been up for over twenty-four hours, taking care of her, watching over her every minute. Not once had he thought of his own needs. Even now, his only thought was of taking care of her.

  “Tell me what you saw and be specific,” he ordered.

  She dipped her lashes, breaking eye contact. “I just ate too fast.”

  “Don’t lie, Tess. You had another flashback. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

  Tess knew he needed his rest. He didn’t need to spend the rest of the night giving her therapy and working out her stupid flashbacks, her disjointed dribble that meant nothing other than the fact that she was going quietly insane.

  She pushed his hand away and stood up. Moving to the sink, she avoided his eyes in the mirror. Something told Tess that if she looked into those eyes too much longer, she’d become a whimpering, quivering pile of mush. And she refused to do that.

  What if she did tell him what she’d seen? He’d lock her up, that’s what he’d do. People didn’t see the vice president of the United States dead with a bullet to his head without being seen as crazy. Hell, if someone confessed such a thing to her, Tess knew she’d be the first to vote that the men in white coats
come and cart the person off.

  She turned on the faucet, bent down and splashed cold water on her face and into her mouth. She rinsed out her mouth and tried to ignore the fact that he was standing right over her, watching her every move.

  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. The concerned look hadn’t changed one iota. “I swear to you. I’m fine. Just ate too fast.”

  She brushed past him, pushing aside the fact that her knees were the same consistency as undercooked chocolate pudding, and made her way over to her knapsack. She rummaged through it until she found her toothbrush. She needed to do something. To be busy. Otherwise she was going to melt into his arms like a big, whiny baby.

  As she moved past him again, he caught her arm. “Will you slow down? You’re the color of rice paper and getting whiter by the minute.”

  She shook his hand off and made her way back to the sink. “Funny about that—I didn’t get much chance to tan inside that prison they kept me in.”

  As she squeezed the toothpaste out onto her brush, she glanced in the mirror. Sure enough, he hadn’t moved, one shoulder jammed up against the doorjamb, his corded arms folded expectantly across the broad expanse of his chest. He didn’t budge. Apparently he got off on watching women brush their teeth.

  She shrugged and shoved the toothbrush into her mouth. So let him watch. No skin off her back.

  “You’re probably experiencing some side effects of the medication they gave you.”

  Tess didn’t bother answering. She simply scrubbed harder, trying to ignore the fine tremor in her hand.

  “Why don’t you let me check you out. I could give you something to take the edge off. Something that would put a stop to the nausea and shakes.”

  Tess dropped her hand to the edge of the sink, leaving the toothbrush wedged up against her cheek. She was barely aware of the fact that her mouth was filled with foaming toothpaste.

  She stared at his refection in the mirror. “Are you insane? Do I really look like someone who wants more junk pumped into her bloodstream?”

  He didn’t answer, his eyes softening; a hint of deep sympathy lurking in their depths. The sympathy angered her. She didn’t want him feeling sorry for her or feeling as though he had to take care of her. She had to take care of herself. Stand on her own two feet.

  He wasn’t always going to be there. She couldn’t rely on him. He had a life, a job. She couldn’t confuse his caring attitude for something it wasn’t. Hadn’t she done that once already? He’d backed away from her, refusing to step over the line he’d drawn between them. No matter how much she wanted him, she had to respect the boundaries he’d drawn.

  His confidence and powerful presence made her feel vulnerable. Naked almost. She squeezed her eyes shut. God help her, but all she wanted was to sink back into those big, capable arms and let him hold her. To comfort her and soothe her.

  “If you really want to help me, just leave me alone,” she said. “I need to work through this on my own. It’s safer that way.” Safer for you, she thought.

  His expression didn’t alter, the serene blue of his eyes stared steadily back at her. Damn him, didn’t he ever get mad? Was he always so infuriatingly patient? So willing to take on the troubles of the world?

  She gritted her teeth. Why didn’t he just leave her ungrateful butt in this seedy hotel room and go back to his comfortable life in Half Moon?

  Instead, he came back at her with the same reassuring approach she’d come to expect. “Look, Tess, I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to push me away, but it isn’t going to work. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for the duration.”

  He paused and waited, as if expecting her to answer. But she didn’t. She gripped the inside edge of her bottom lip and held on tight, as if somehow she could freeze him out with her silence.

  He sighed. “When are you going to learn that you can trust me?”

  Tess leaned forward and spit out the paste. Cupping one hand under the faucet, she fed herself a quick mouthful of water and rinsed out her mouth. She reached over and swiped a threadbare towel across her mouth.

  “Never.” She straightened up and pushed past him to reenter the room. Ignoring him, she yanked the bedspread back and climbed beneath the blankets. She turned on her side and pulled the covers up to her neck, gathering the sheet until she was wrapped up tight. “Shut off the lights when you come to bed,” she snapped, closing her eyes and heart to any more talk.

  “I’m not giving up on you, Tess. Try to shut me out all you want, but I’m not leaving.”

  She opened her eyes a crack to see him sitting in the chair directly across from her. She closed them again. “Suit yourself. But you’re going to get sore sitting there all night.”

  “I’ve done it before.”

  And she figured he had. She just didn’t want to think about how much he’d done for her. How hard he’d worked to win her trust and confidence. Because if she thought about it too hard, she’d lose the battle. The battle that meant she’d let down her guard and ask him into her heart. She knew she couldn’t risk that, couldn’t allow him to be put in that kind of danger.

  She pulled the blanket over her face, trying desperately to shut him out.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tess opened her eyes. Wherever she was it was nearly black. The only visible source of light came from a flickering table lamp across the room. A strange twist of fear gnawed on the fringe of her nerves.

  Somewhere in the near-darkness, an ancient air conditioner wheezed, sounding as if it was on its last legs. The strong smell of onions drifted on the air and teased her nose.

  She lifted her head, wondering where she was and how long she’d been asleep. There were no restraints on her arms and legs and the realization that she wasn’t in her cell deep inside the center settled over her. The motel room. She was inside the motel room. Ryan had helped her escape.

  Confused, she rolled over and bumped up against something solid. Someone slept next to her.

  Ryan, of course. There was only one bed in the room, and he really wasn’t about to sit up all night. After she’d fallen asleep, he’d obviously crawled into bed next to her and conked out.

  He was rolled up on his side, his back to her. Through the soft glow of the lamp, she could see the broad expanse of his shoulders beneath his T-shirt and the fringe of dark hair lying along the back of his neck.

  She reached out, her fingers lightly skimming the fringe of hair. The strands were soft and fine, like silk feathers of a tiny bird. The ends curled slightly around her knuckle and she smiled. He needed a haircut.

  He didn’t have much time for himself since she’d come into his life. Everything had been turned upside down, turned on end. But he hadn’t balked. Hadn’t run off or booted her ungrateful butt out of his life. Even when she’d told him to push off and leave her alone. He’d stuck by her, just as he said he would. Patiently waiting her out. Determined to help her no matter what.

  She could feel the warmth of his body radiate upward, heating her face. Both shoulder blades were hard and pronounced beneath his T-shirt. Feeling like a voyeur, as if she was somehow taking advantage but unable to stop herself, Tess lifted the sheet and allowed her gaze to skim lightly, greedily over his body. The jangled hum of her nerves quieted, flooding her instead with a sweet liquid warmth.

  His hard butt and lean hips dented the sagging mattress, and she reached out and lightly traced the deep indentation above his hipbone, just above the elastic of his boxers. His skin was dark and tanned against her white skin. The contrast was startling. Delicious. She slid her hand down over the cloth of his shorts to the top of his thigh.

  She lifted the sheet a little higher, her eyes devouring him. He had long muscular legs, corded and covered with dark hair, so long they almost hung off the end of the mattress. She was pretty sure she’d never felt small next to a man before, but Ryan’s body seemed built to do just that.

  Without thinking of the consequences, she slid closer, pressing
her body up against him, molding herself to him, savoring the feel of his firm butt against her soft belly. He mumbled something in his sleep, and Tess paused, holding her breath.

  She didn’t want him to wake up. Not yet. She didn’t want him to stop her investigation, and she knew she couldn’t handle his rejection. His caution. She wanted, no she needed, to explore more.

  She slid a hand up beneath his shirt, pushing it out of the way, and she pressed her lips to the indentation of his spine, gently kissing and inhaling his clean, masculine scent.

  His skin was smooth and he had a small birthmark, a tiny brown freckle directly below his left shoulder blade. She kissed it and then gently touched it with the tip of her tongue. Tasting. Memorizing. She pressed her lips to it again, marking it as her own.

  She slipped an arm around him and his shirt whispered beneath her hand. Her fingertips brushed across the hair on his chest, and he shifted, his hips moving backward until they pressed tight against her belly, sending another burst of warmth shooting through her.

  Her hand slipped lower, sliding across the firm muscles of his flat stomach and coming to rest directly below the waistband of his boxers.

  “Keep that up and we’re both going to be in for a big surprise.” His voice sweetened the stillness of the room, like smooth honey.

  She moved her hand lower. “How big are we talking? Big? Or really really big?”

  He laughed, and she felt the shake of his long body against hers. But even as he laughed, he shifted his body a bit and moved as if to sit up. And in that single instant, her body mourned his coming desertion.

  She tightened her arms around him, holding him to her and wishing with all her heart that she could capture and hold the essence of him inside her soul—all his power, warmth and goodness.

  She pressed her cheek against the center of his back and savored the steady beat of his heart through his skin and the reassuring rhythm of his breath. He reached down and gently pulled at her hands. “Tess, you know this isn’t right. Let—”