But why he was here now?
In his hot and sexy flesh…although his version of hot and sexy was actually the cool and polished version. His suit was a little too nice for the typical agent and his shoes were a little too pricey—custom-made, she’d bet. He could wear a suit like nobody’s business, that was for damn sure.
Damn it, he was so put together. Looking at him just made her think about how much fun it might be to see what it would take to make him come apart. And those were thoughts she just didn’t need in her head. Down, girl, she told herself as she eased up in the bed.
Frowning at him, she asked, “What are you doing here?”
“Taking you home.” He flicked a glance at his watch and then looked at her. “Are you ready?”
“Why are you taking me home?”
“Because you need somebody to drive you,” he said.
She resisted, just barely, the childish urge to stick her tongue out at him. Taylor Jones brought out all sorts of strange impulses. Childish ones. Wanton ones. Erotic ones. She’d long since adjusted to that very disturbing fact, but adjusting to it didn’t make it any easier to fight.
Sighing, she asked, “Doesn’t the boss have anything better to do than play chauffeur?”
“Don’t worry. I didn’t bring the limo.” He came into the room and paused to study the neat stack of her belongings. “Has the nurse been in to take care of your discharge?”
“Hell, no.” She scowled. “I think they suspect I’ll sneak out the door and try to hitchhike. Then they’d have to deal with you.” Absently, she reached up and touched the bandage on her neck, itching to take it off and look at the damage. But she wasn’t doing it until she was in the privacy of her own home. The nurses around here made Nurse Ratched look like a pushover.
She shot Taylor a narrow glance. Probably had something to do with her boss. She’d heard rumors he’d terrorized the staff. He was good about that. He terrorized everybody.
“But now that you’re here…” She leaned over and grabbed the call light.
She didn’t bother to wipe her smirk off her face as the nurse appeared in under five minutes with all the paperwork, shooting Taylor’s back a dark look before blanking her expression. Yeah, Taylor was definitely part of the reason the nurses were watching over her like she was in jail or something.
Bully, she thought, disturbed by the affection she felt for him.
She was just plain disturbed and she would be until she got the hell out of the hospital. Too much unrest in a place like this.
There weren’t any active souls looking for her help that she could see, but she could feel the echo of their passing and it was like somebody was constantly stroking her spine with icy cold fingers. She was cold, damn it, very cold, and she wanted nothing more than to be out of here and snug in her own house, where she could be warm again. Nice, new house, no death there, never touched by anything but her presence and the presence of the builders, her friends. All hers. No lingering touches or echoes or shadows.
Damn it, she wanted to be home.
“Special Agent Lincoln, are you listening?”
Dez rolled her eyes and jerked her attention back to the paperwork the nurse had in front of her. She signed here, initialed there, and voiced her understanding over changing the dressing and when she was supposed to see her doctor for follow-up; her eyes started to glaze over with all the blathering all the medical types like to hand out.
Who in the hell needed sleeping pills? Just stick the insomniac in a room with a nurse doing discharge orders. That would knock out anybody.
“So, do you have any questions?” the nurse asked, giving Dez a bright, hard-edged smile.
It seemed to read: Say no, please, so you can get the hell out of my hospital and take this prick with you.
Dez narrowed her eyes. For some reason, she was oddly tempted to play dumb and act like she hadn’t understood any of the words she’d just ignored. But she wanted out of here too much.
Giving the nurse a wide smile, she took a deliberate look at her name tag and said, “Ms. Lafferty, you’ve taken such excellent care of me, the next time someone from our unit is injured in the line of duty, I’m sure my boss is going to put in a special request just for your services.”
She had the pleasure of watching the nurse’s eyes tighten minutely around the corners.
Yeah, Taylor could be a prick.
But he got the job done.
Plus…he’d saved her life.
And she really needed to tell him thanks for that, too.
* * *
DEZ’S full, firm mouth was set in a mutinous line as she was wheeled out of the hospital in a chair. The nurse had given her an innocent smile and insisted, “Hospital policy.”
And it most likely was, Taylor figured. One person trips over his own feet and decides to sue and hospitals everywhere are going to be cautious. Still, he knew Dez hated it.
He had an urge to stroke his finger down the line between her brows and tell her to relax. It was all of five minutes, and after what she had gone through, what did it matter if she sat in a wheelchair for five minutes?
That’s what he wanted to do.
Instead, he tucked a hand inside his pocket.
There was a thin, golden chain inside there, one he needed to return to her.
It had somehow fallen off her neck that night—he didn’t know how. But after the paramedics had rushed her away, he’d seen it there, glinting in a puddle of her blood, and he had picked it up. The chain itself was damaged, but the slender cross wasn’t. Although he didn’t know the history of the bit of jewelry, he knew it was important to her. Dez didn’t wear jewelry—just this piece, and she always wore it. To him, that meant it mattered.
He should have returned it before now, but he couldn’t seem to. He needed it out of his sight because every time he looked at it, he saw Dez again, bleeding out under his hands.
Too close. It had come too close…
“Okay, Agent, if you’ll bring your car…” The nurse stopped and stared at the black Mercedes parked in front of the double doors and then she looked back at him, disapproval in her eyes. “Is this your car?”
“It is.” He smiled coolly, watched as the woman’s shoulders went stiff and tight with indignation.
“You shouldn’t park there.”
Taylor lifted a brow. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I have an agent in need of your services, Ms. Lafferty.” He hadn’t missed the expression on her face when Dez had made that comment. Her lids flickered and she sniffed.
He might have said something else, but he knew he’d been a bastard to her and the rest of the medical staff in the days since Dez had been brought in. He wasn’t inclined to apologize—he didn’t care whether they cared for his attitude or not—but he knew he’d definitely done enough to incur their dislike.
A few minutes later, they were pulling away from the hospital and Dez sighed, the tension easing out of her body.
“How bad was it in there?” he asked quietly. Hospitals could be bad, bad places for some of his people, especially those who were more in tune with pain…and death.
“Bad enough,” she admitted. “I need a few minutes of quiet. I feel like the death is sticking to me.”
He could give her the quiet she needed, and in the forty minutes it took to drive to her little place outside of the city, he saw the difference some peace and quiet could make.
Her color returned and the soft, warm brown of her skin looked almost normal again. A night of sleep, a few days of decent food, and she’d be as good as new.
No thanks to you…you never should have let her go in there. Not her damn job, not what she trained for. You fucking moron.
He wished he could silence that voice.
Wished he could take more comfort in knowing a child lived because of Dez’s actions.
Always before, it had been enough.
But for now, all he c
ould see was her blood, so much of it, dark red, spilling out over his hands.
As he parked in front of her house, her eyes opened and she shot him a quick glance. “You never forget a thing, do you?”
“Rarely,” he said.
And about her?
Never. He’d been to her house one other time, four years before. That time, her particular skills had been needed on a job and since he had been driving in her direction, he’d decided he would pick her up. It would save time.
Yes, all in the name of expediency.
With everybody else, yes.
Refusing to look at her, he climbed out of the car and grabbed her things from the trunk before she had the chance. Although she was supposed to be resting, taking it easy, he knew Desiree Lincoln. Rest wasn’t in her vocabulary.
“Who is coming to stay with you?” he asked as he headed toward the front door.
“I don’t need anybody staying with me.”
“Who?”
She blew out a breath. “I asked a friend I know—outside the bureau. Julie’s a nurse but she can’t be here for a few hours. And you do realize, don’t you, I’m not exactly on the clock and if I don’t want a babysitter, you can’t make me have one. You bullied me into staying in the hospital a few extra days, but you can’t bully me into having a babysitter.”
He reached the porch and turned to face her. Eyeing the bandage, so stark and white against her flesh, he let his gaze linger there for a pointed moment before looking back into her eyes. “If I do not have your word you’ll have somebody with you for the next twenty-four hours, then I will be here watching you for the next twenty-four hours.”
“That’s gonna be boring. Did you bring any popcorn?”
Then she shouldered past him and dealt with the locks. He came inside and shut the door behind him while she reset the security system, trying not to think about her smart-ass reply. Why was it that when 99 percent of his people would tell him to kiss their ass, Dez issued a statement like Did you bring any popcorn?
If she would just work to keep him at arm’s length, the way everybody else did, maybe it would be easier not to be so obsessed with her. So desperate for a touch, a taste…a night.
A lifetime, even.
Stop it.
She glanced over her shoulder at him and said, “Julie won’t be here until after her shift at the clinic is over. So if you’re really determined that I’m not to be alone, either you call me another babysitter or you make yourself at home.”
Then she sauntered off into the depths of the house.
He found himself watching the way her ass swayed back and forth and wishing, really wishing, he had the strength to call her another “babysitter,” as she called it. But he also knew there was no way in hell he was going to miss out on spending a little bit of time with her. Away from work. Out of that damned hospital.
Here. In her home. Where he could assure himself she was safe, alive.
Whole.
* * *
STARING into the refrigerator, Dez found herself contemplating the bottle of wine. It was too damn early, she knew. Plus, she was still a little off-kilter from the pain meds and she knew she’d be popping another shortly.
But still. Every once in a while, liquid courage did help things a bit and she needed something to help loosen her tongue because she couldn’t seem to figure out the right way to go and talk to Taylor and tell him something very, very simple.
Thanks for saving my life.
“Are you hungry?”
She jumped, startled. Turning around, she stared at him and then she gaped, a little dismayed at the sight of him. He’d taken his jacket off. He’d loosened his tie.
Hell—it was almost like he was…naked. At least for Taylor Jones. Those suits of his were like armor, she’d always thought.
“Are you okay?”
Jerking her eyes away from his chest, she stared at him and stammered out…something. She didn’t know what.
“Maybe you should sit down. You look flushed.”
No, I look hot. As in turned on, she thought irritably. All because my fricking boss undid the top two buttons on his pristine white dress shirt and loosened that damn tie.
And the jacket. Mustn’t forget the jacket he’d taken off.
Swallowing, she turned around and grabbed a can of Diet Coke from the fridge. Over her shoulder, she said, “I’m just thirsty. Tired. Nobody ever gets any rest in a hospital, you ever noticed that?”
“I’ve never had to stay in one,” he said. “But plenty of my people have.”
There was a weight in his voice.
Slowly, she turned and studied him.
That heavy, strange weight she’d heard in his voice was echoed in his eyes, she realized. It didn’t show in his face—no, very little was ever revealed on that face of his, but those eyes…somewhere, just behind a rigid, steely curtain, she sensed a great deal of chaos. Pain. Guilt.
She remembered how many times she’d heard that he was at the hospital because one of them had gone down. This was the first time for her—she was rarely ever in a place where there was any action going on. But her best friend, Taige, had been hurt a few times and she knew, vividly, that Taylor liked to haunt hospital halls.
No, he didn’t show much emotion to the world. But he felt it, she realized. He felt a great deal.
And suddenly, those words were a lot easier to find.
“You saved my life,” she said softly, setting her drink down and crossing her arms over her chest. “I haven’t said thank you for that.”
“You don’t need to. I never should have let you put yourself in that position.”
Dez arched a brow. Oh, yeah, there was emotion. She was nowhere near the emotional bloodhound some of her colleagues were, but psychics, most of them, had similar natures and she could pick up the vibes well enough.
What she didn’t understand was why she hadn’t ever picked these up from him before.
Unless he was just having a harder time keeping it all hidden…
Pushing off the counter, she circled the island to stand in front of him. “There was a girl inside that house, Taylor. He would have killed her.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Don’t we?” Reaching down, she caught his hand and said, “Come on.”
For just a second, he resisted.
She had no idea why she’d grabbed his hand. She was surprised as hell that she’d done it.
She was equally stunned when his fingers, long, cool, and elegant, closed around hers. She led him to the bathroom and left him standing by the counter as she faced the mirror. “This damn tape itches like crazy,” she said. “I kept telling that nurse to find some paper tape. I think she liked ignoring me.”
“You shouldn’t be exposing that yet,” he said, his voice gruff.
Dez rolled her eyes and made a face at him in the mirror. “Yes, Daddy.”
Something flashed in the depths of his steely blue eyes—something hot—something that made her knees do the weirdest damn thing. Swallowing, she tore her eyes away from him and focused on her reflection, watching as she peeled the bandage away and revealed the neat surgical scar on her throat.
Dumping the bandages in the trash, she turned to face him. Bracing her hips against the marble countertop, Dez angled her chin up, let him stare.
He did. For long, long seconds. Then he turned on his heel and stalked out.
She caught up with him in the kitchen, grabbing his arm. “It’s a scar, Taylor. A fucking scar. And I don’t mind it. Hell, I’ll wear it happily for the rest of my life. You know why? Because there’s a little girl who is alive.” She stared into his eyes and said, “Hell, even if I’d bled out, I’d consider it worth it, because that monster is dead—you made sure he’d never hurt another little girl.”
A muscle jerked in his jaw. “Stop.”
“Stop what? Pointing out the truth?”
He
sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. “I know all of this,” he said, his voice harsh, colder than normal. “I even knew you’d feel that way—willing to die if it meant the girl lived. But as I’m the one who had your blood all over my hands, and as I’m the one who allowed you to put yourself in that situation, I’d rather not relive it.”
Her heart softened, something she really, really didn’t need. Not when it came to him. That bit of flesh was already a little too compromised when it came to him. “Taylor…stop trying to be master of the world, okay? I made the decision and I knew, going in, it could be dangerous. I’d do it again, too.” Rising on her toes, she brushed her lips against his cheek. Heat lanced through her but, as much as she wanted to, she didn’t seek out his mouth. Instead, she started to lower back down. “You saved my life…thank you.”
His hands closed around her arms. Oddly gentle, but firm. Unyieldingly so.
Dez’s heart lodged in her throat as he reached up, his fingers hovering just above the wound at her throat. Hovering, not touching. A world of emotion crept into his voice as he whispered, his voice raw, “I can’t stand seeing that mark on you.”
Then he shifted his gaze and stared into her eyes.
She knew the man had feelings. She always suspected they ran deeper than most of her co-workers expected.
He never let it show, though.
Until now. That steel curtain, for just a moment, parted. Fluttered. Just beyond that curtain, she saw pain, misery, and guilt…and something else that stole the breath from her lungs.
Molten, burning, scalding heat…
The sight of that heat did something to her low, low inside her belly. Her heart skipped a few beats, then settled into a quick, rapid rhythm—a thousand butterflies trapped inside her chest. Butterflies with wings dipped in some seriously strong sort of aphrodisiac, too. Lust, hot and heavy, moved through her, and before Dez knew what she was doing, she had her hand on Taylor’s cheek. “I’m okay, you know. I’m tougher than I look. Hell, I feel almost normal already. No surprise, considering you made them keep me several days longer than needed.”
The Departed Page 3