by Kylie Brant
Dare stood with his shoulder propped against a file cabinet, just a little apart from the detectives and Addie. She was a model of courage under stress. Under different circumstances he might have admired her fortitude. Right now he could only curse it. It was probably just his imagination that her voice wavered from time to time before she could control it again. That her limbs occasionally quaked in a shudder that had nothing to do with the air-conditioning and everything to do with reaction.
“We’ll check with Paquin again, of course.” Gabe tapped his pen against his palm. “But Dare says when he called him he denied ever leaving you that message.”
A.J. looked grim. “So it was just a ruse someone used to lure me down there. And I walked right into it.”
“You’re lucky your assistant called McKay this morning looking for you,” Madison put in.
She glanced at Dare and then looked away just as quickly. Something about the man reminded her of a human package of dynamite waiting to detonate. Beneath his thin T-shirt every muscle seemed chiseled with tension.
With effort she gathered thoughts that were strangely fragmented. “My guess is that the other one, Randy, was calling the shots. But he was working for someone else. He made the comment that I must have really angered the wrong person.”
“And chances are that Randy has already heard what went down and skipped for healthier climates,” observed Gabe. “The scumbag we locked up is named Tommy Barnes. He and Randy are cousins. And you’re right. Randy’s usually the one that arranges their jobs. Tommy’s not long on smarts.” He cocked his head, studied her. “Any ideas on who might have given the orders?”
Even as she shook her head, Dare spoke. “There doesn’t seem to be much question of that, does there? It’s got to be connected to the case. Someone wants her out of the way. First she’s nearly run over and now this.” His voice was flat, his eyes hard. “Most likely it’s the same guy with reason to pay for Delgado’s defense.”
“Mannen,” Gabe said grimly, exchanging a look with his partner.
Dare pushed away from the file cabinet. “I think you have enough information for now, don’t you, guys?”
Connally glanced at Dare’s expression, cleared his throat. “Yeah, sure. A.J. can call us if she thinks of anything else.”
“I’ll take you home, then.” Dare addressed the words to Addie, his tone carefully neutral.
She looked up, hesitated. “I need to call work.”
He reached for her elbow and began leading her away. “I already called the courthouse.”
It was a measure of her surprise that she didn’t protest at being shepherded through the station house and bundled into his car. “When did you do that?”
He closed the passenger door on her question, rounded the vehicle to the other side and got in. “On the way to the station house.” Addie had chosen to ride there with the detectives, and he’d followed. It had given him time to tuck away the frustration that still simmered. Time to stop wanting to put a fist through the walls she’d already managed to rebuild.
They were there, shaky but unmistakable. Most women would have collapsed by now. Most men, too, come to that. But Addie couldn’t be compared to other people, because of one inescapable fact. She stood alone. And even in her darkest hour, when she’d clung to him for comfort, she hadn’t really needed him. At least not for long.
So he matched his impassive expression to her own and refused to be moved, even when she became aware of their destination.
“No, you don’t, McKay. I’m not going to a hospital.”
“You’re right,” he agreed imperturbably. “You’re going to a clinic.”
“Same difference.” Rather than giving in to the ridiculous fear bubbling to the surface, she reached for anger. “All I need now is food and rest. I don’t need a doctor to tell me that.”
He pulled to a stop and hardened himself against the flash of sheer panic on her face. It softened something inside him, but he remained implacable. Experience had taught him what to expect when he softened toward Addie. “Be really good in there. I hear they give lollipops to their most well-behaved patients.”
He was out of the car before he could hear her response, but he was imaginative enough to guess its content.
Despite her annoyed protests, Dare pushed in to her house behind her and shut the door. Then he checked all the rooms until he was certain they were empty.
“Well, thank you, Mr. Security.”
“You won’t be thanking me when you see your kitchen door.”
Her brows furrowed. “What?”
There would be time enough later to discuss that subject. “Never mind.” He’d had a ridiculous sense of guilt riding him ever since she’d rejoined him at the clinic, pale and caustic. But he’d needed to reassure himself that she’d suffered no real physical harm. “What do you want to do first? Shower or eat?”
Her smile looked forced. “Actually, twelve full hours of sleep sounds good.”
He nodded. “First you shower. Then I’ll fix you some food. Then sleep.” When she would have protested, he cut her off. “While you’re in the shower I’ll get your briefcase and purse out of my trunk.”
He’d succeeded in distracting her. “You have them? That’s a relief. Until now, I didn’t even think about them.”
“Yeah, well, you had a few other things on your mind. I found them in the warehouse. They didn’t look as though they’d been disturbed.” He strode past her to the bathroom, pulled back the curtain and started the water. When he had it adjusted to the right temperature, he switched on the shower. He went back out into the living room, to find her standing right where he’d left her.
“Go in and take your shower,” he directed. It helped to keep his mind on what needed to be done and off the fact that she appeared perfectly capable of handling it all herself. “I’ll go out and get your stuff, then get you something to eat. Soup, I think,” he said, eyeing her critically. He doubted her appetite was very strong, but she needed fuel.
She took a breath, exhaled slowly. “I appreciate all you’ve done. Believe me.” Her emphasis on the last two words reminded them both just how grateful she’d been earlier. “But there’s no reason for you to stay. I’m just going to stagger in to bed in a few more minutes.”
He turned away, unwilling to hear the rest of her speech. Her body fairly vibrated with tension. He already knew that she was back at her peak. The weakness that would normally affect anyone after an ordeal like hers had been miraculously short-lived. And it was incredibly telling that she’d looked even more shaken by her trip to the clinic than she had when he’d found her in the warehouse.
After Dare had retrieved Addie’s briefcase and purse, he deposited them in her living room on the table that served as her desk. He cocked his head, vaguely pleased to hear the shower still running. Hot water would go a long way in releasing some of the stress she was refusing to admit to.
He rummaged around in her kitchen, found some soup and fixings for salad. While the soup was simmering on the stove, he prepared the rest of the meal. He had the food on the table, accompanied by a glass of milk, before he began to wonder what was keeping her.
Walking back into the living room, he could still hear the shower. Curiosity, and a lingering feeling of protectiveness, had him crossing to the bathroom door and knocking on it. “Dinner’s ready. Are you about done in there?” He listened, but there was no answer. There was no sound at all, save for the pounding water.
Easing the door open, his gaze first landed on her ruined clothes lying in a heap on the floor. His jacket was folded neatly on top of the pile. His gaze flickered to the shower. “Addie?”
It was her silence that tipped him off. He’d expected to hear her berate him for invading her privacy. Crossing to the tub in two quick steps, he drew back the curtain. And saw her, finally, sitting on the floor of the tub, head down, arms wrapped tightly around her knees. Her body rocked back and forth, silent sobs shaking her.
Emotion gripped his throat, seized his heart. “Ah, baby.” Without a second thought he stepped in, sank down behind her. His arms folded around her and drew her back against his chest. And as the water hammered over them, surrounding them in a world of their own, there was more than comfort offered. More than need returned.
A.J. woke reluctantly, consciousness gradually swimming up to the surface. She opened her eyes, feeling remarkably rested. There had been no dreams to mar her sleep, no remembered terror to haunt. It was more, far more, than she’d hoped for.
Sitting up in bed, she pushed her tousled hair back from her face and squinted at the alarm clock next to the bed. Nine o’clock. She’d slept nearly twelve hours. Yawning, she slipped from bed and was in the bathroom before memory slammed into her.
Dare. He’d stayed. Long after she’d ordered him away. Long after the thin strand of strength she’d clung to had snapped. Thoughts of her vulnerability last night didn’t make her squirm, but knowing that he’d witnessed it did. Most men, she imagined, could be excused for making a quick exit in the face of unchecked emotion. He’d done more, far more, than she’d had any right to expect.
A second shock awaited her when she went back to her bedroom and found him there, sitting on the edge of the bed, bare-chested, and sipping a cup of coffee. Upon her entrance he rose, crossed to her, and handed her the cup. Reflexively, her fingers closed around it, her gaze never straying from his.
“I didn’t know you were here.” She brought the cup to her lips, sipped.
“I’ve been up for hours. You slept in. That’s good. You needed it.”
Comprehension punched through her like a quick left jab. Her eyes went to the pillow beside hers. The was no impression left on the pillow, but she knew the truth, anyway. “You stayed here last night?” She voiced the question, but it was something other than words that gave her her answer. The effortless slumber had been his doing. It had been the strength of his arms that had kept the dreams away, the warmth of his body that had warded off the lingering ghosts. She stared at him, with all the confusion she was feeling apparent on her face. “Why?”
Her words would have infuriated him, if he hadn’t been so moved by her expression of bafflement. “Why do you look so surprised?” He took the cup from her nerveless fingers and drank, deliberately placing his lips where hers had been. “I suppose I should have asked if there was someone else to be called. Someone else who could have stayed with you.” Something in her silence made him edgy. “Was there?”
“No.”
Her answer was without emotion, without self-pity. She’d never sought comfort, wouldn’t have known where to turn for it. She’d always been the source of strength for her mother, first as a child then as an adult. The fact had never been questioned, never resented. She didn’t know how to accept something like this, freely given, without strings. And she didn’t know how to counter the effect his act had on her system, tying her heartstrings in nice neat bows.
She set the cup carefully on her bedside table, then closed the distance between them, still marveling. Reaching up, she touched her lips to his. She could feel the heat of him, that wonderful warmth that had chased away the ice in her limbs last night and calmed her raging nerves.
Her mouth moved on his, gently, sweetly. She could taste the coffee on his lips, knew he could taste it on hers. Moving nearer, she increased the pressure, the kiss full of wonder.
Dare was drowning in sensation, battling a need that rose swiftly, was banked ruthlessly. He didn’t want thanks and he damned well didn’t want pity. A ragged sense of honor kept him motionless, when instinct dictated he haul her into his arms. It was the memory of the bewilderment on her face that kept him from giving in to those urges; that had shouted, clearer than words, her unfamiliarity with a simple gesture of caring. He wondered if there had ever been one person in her life who’d offered it. He suspected he knew the answer.
Her mouth moved to his jaw, and he clenched it, hard, when her lips dragged over the stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave that morning. His lungs dragged in the scent of her in a guilty, greedy swallow, and his muscles quivered with the force of his control.
She didn’t need this. The thought hammered in his head, keeping rhythm with the pulse in his veins. He didn’t know what drove her, but he knew she was vulnerable in a way she’d never allowed herself to be before. Knew that even her well-worn defenses must have limits.
And he was equally certain that given time they’d be firmly back in place. She was still reeling from her recent experience. He tried to remember that, as she caught his bottom lip between her teeth, scored it gently. Sweat beaded on his forehead as she traced his mouth with the tip of her tongue. She needed time and distance to regroup.
Perhaps it would have been easier to withstand if she’d touched him with fire in her blood and no heart at all. But there’d been emotion in her answer, in just that single word. And it was apparent in her kiss. Each touch crumbled his control a bit further.
Her fingers skimmed over his chest. His muscles jumped beneath her touch, quivering like a ready stallion. His hands went to her hips, intending to put her away from him. In a moment. This must be a special kind of hell reserved just for him, for offenses as yet uncommitted. He could almost smell the sulfur, feel the flames of perdition lapping at him.
Because when her mouth returned to his, his arms snaked around her waist, and he kissed her back with a bruising passion that should have alarmed her. Should have had her pulling away. Instead it served to enflame them both.
His fingers tangled in her hair, and he held her head still, devoured her mouth. And he imagined, just for a moment, what it would be like to make love to her without fearing the inevitable moment when her walls would go back up. Locking him out and the memories away.
But there were no barriers between them now. The certainty shimmered between them, beckoned promisingly. And the knowledge was sweet, perhaps made more because he knew how rare the moment was.
Her heart was racing, keeping pace with his. His tongue stabbed at her lips, and they parted in a seductive welcome. He brought her closer, one hand sweeping under her shirt, smoothing over her silky back. She arched against him, and the last vestige of his control gave way under the weight of his need for her.
The freedom to touch her was a sinful pleasure, and best savored slowly. He reached for the hem of her nightgown, drew it over her head. Flesh pressed against flesh, and the sensation of her breasts flattened against his chest whipped his blood to a torrent. He skimmed his lips over the curve of her shoulder, his muscles tense, waiting for the rage of desire to settle again.
The bed was right behind him. He could ease her back just a matter of inches and they’d fall together, every inch of their bodies touching. They could give their passion free rein, forget all thoughts, all doubts. It would be easy and gloriously satisfying. He knew she’d welcome it, return it. Instead he gave her more.
He bent to scoop her up in his arms and laid her on the bed. When he followed her down, it was with passion held in check, and something far more dangerous rising to the surface. He loomed half over her, combed her hair back from her face with his fingers. An aching path of tenderness etched through him. It was an unfamiliar emotion, but not an unwelcome one. Her injuries had bloomed over the hours, ugly reminders of what she’d endured. His lips brushed over the bruise on her jaw and then found another beneath her eye.
A.J. stilled under his lips, recognizing the change in his rhythm, uncertain of her response. She felt his mouth move down her body, tactilely cataloguing each of her injuries, soothing each. His gentleness undid her. Again he was offering her something she didn’t know how to accept, or return. She only knew that the foreign experience tangled her emotions. Wreaked havoc on her system. The minutes stretched, dusted with gold.
Dare worked his way back up to her mouth, saw her eyes, glazed but wary. And comprehension slammed into him, so sudden and violent he was nearly rocked with it. Defenses wor
ked both ways. Walls were built as much to protect what was inside as to keep others out. He wondered if she knew which reason kept hers so solid.
Their lips met, tongues tangled. The desire was still present, but contained for the moment. He gave her long, stirring kisses; languid, lazy caresses. And when he felt her body melt against his, heard her breath hitch slightly, he knew this was what he wanted. What he’d always wanted. To feel her go pliant with pleasure. To feel her hands on his flesh. To know that with every gasp and moan he drew from her, she thought of him. Nothing but him.
His hands drifted over her breasts, fingers circling, never settling. Her breath hissed in and she reached for him, her fingers clutching his shoulders, skating over his chest. A thousand points of flame burst beneath his skin. Control wavered, took conscious effort to steady.
To pleasure her, and himself, he dipped his head, drew her nipple into his mouth, savagely satisfied to hear his name tumble from her lips. Cupping her other breast in his hand, he fondled it, until the dual assault had her body twisting against him.
A haze seemed to have formed over all thought, all reason. There was only Addie, her flavor tracing through his system, her scent embedded in his senses. Sunlight slanted through the window, a single ray painting their bodies. Her fingers were fumbling with his jeans, and each slight brush of her knuckles against the front of his fly was the most exquisite form of torture.
Need streaked through him, made a mockery of his intentions. Easing away an inch, he helped her pull the heavy jeans down his legs, and kicked them away. Then he rid them both of the only barrier left between them, and pulled her to face him, until they lay together side to side so that every inch of their bodies touched. Finding the pulse at the base of her throat, he laved it with his tongue. She drew up a leg, not quite innocently, let it glide over his hip.
