Kim absently watched the midday news, her thoughts scattered. She sighed as she flicked off the TV by remote, then stood up and slowly made her way toward her bedroom window. Her ankle was doing a lot better and seemed to get stronger with each passing day. Thank god, too, because she was due to head back to Eastern Academy to teach in a few short weeks.
Her blue eyes flicked beyond the window to where Megan was shooting a gun at a makeshift target. Kim had to squint to see her because Megan was a good ways down the estate in the side yard. A gun . . .
Kim shook her head, disbelieving that her stepmother had done something like purchase a revolver let alone teach herself how to shoot one. It might have been understandable given the current circumstances, but it was still completely out of character for her. Or was it out of character? Kim conceded that she didn’t really know because she didn’t know her stepmother as well as she’d thought.
The things Megan had said to Kim two days ago had truly thrown her for a loop. She hadn’t sought her stepmother out, or even talked to her since then, because in all honesty she didn’t know what to say. A part of her wanted to try, to give Megan another chance, but another part of her couldn’t help but to remember all those embarrassing occasions she’d brought friends home only to find Megan drunk as a skunk, passed out on various pieces of furniture.
“Oh, how adorable,” she could still hear Cilla Harrington (now Harrington-Barnsworth) saying in that pompous, contemptuous tone of hers, “is this part of Laura Ashley’s latest collection?”
Not that she really cared what Cilla Harrington and others like her thought. But still . . .
Kim’s hopes had been so high when her father had remarried. In the beginning things between her and Megan had been good, too. Kim had needed a mother and Megan had seemed to want a daughter. But the longer Roger and Megan Cox were married, the more withdrawn her stepmother had become. After that, the drinking began. Before Kim knew it, Megan was as estranged from her as Roger had always been.
Megan. She sighed. She couldn’t think about her stepmother right now. Even if she wanted to, she still couldn’t, for her mind as of late had been plagued with other things.
Kim couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but something didn’t feel . . . right. It wasn’t ESP or anything like that in so far as she knew, yet she’d been harboring a strange feeling in her gut ever since the night Ben had driven her, Megan, and Nikki back to the Cox estate. Actually, she’d been harboring that feeling ever since the day she had first met Ben in Detective Cavanah’s office, but since she hadn’t come into contact with him again until Nikki had received that email from Lucifer, the feeling had lain dormant.
The feeling, unfortunately, was back. Something wasn’t right.
Kim sighed, having no idea what it was about Ben that made the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck stir. She frowned, hating it when things like that happened. It was like trying to recall a name or telephone number when your memory didn’t feel like cooperating. The more she tried to figure it out, the fuzzier the impressions got.
Her absent gaze went back to Megan. She shrugged her shoulders, deciding to let the worry go for the time being. It wasn’t like there was much choice.
Nikki’s concern for Thomas grew more and more acute as the evening wore on. He’d been like this for hours now, drinking liquor and staring at nothing, his gaze absent. His five-o’clock shadow had already come back, which added an even more dangerous level to his appearance.
She wished she knew what was upsetting him. Unfortunately, he had refused to open up to her after he’d gotten off the phone earlier today and had locked himself in the bedroom for about two solid hours following that conversation. When he finally emerged, his breath reeked of alcohol and his speech, what little he’d granted her with, was slurred.
The drinking had only escalated from there. She had no idea how one man could hold down so much liquor without acquiring alcohol poisoning, but there it was.
Finally, unable to take any more, and totally worried about Thomas, Nikki walked over to the couch and snatched the bottle of Jack Daniels from his hand. His eyebrows slowly drew together.
“Why the hell’d ya do that?” he slurred.
Her nostrils flared. “I think you’ve had more than enough. You need to go lie down. Try to sleep it off.”
Thomas frowned. “I’m not tired.”
“Yes, you are,” she snapped.
“Has anyone ever told you what a meanie you are?”
“Every drunk the police have ever escorted into the hospital.” She sighed, her eyes briefly closing. “Just go to bed, please.”
“No.” He glanced around. “Truthfully, I don’t think I can walk.”
Her jaw clenched. Surprise, surprise. “Will you go if I walk with you?”
His dark gaze flicked over her breasts before landing on her face. “Will you go to bed with me?” he asked thickly.
Nikki rolled her eyes. “Hate to break the news to you, Detective, but I’m a doctor. And as a doctor I am willing to wager you couldn’t get it up right now if your life depended on it. Come on,” she said, tugging at his arm, “let’s go.”
Thomas muttered something imperceptible under his breath, but allowed her to help him up. He leaned on her enough to stay upright, but even inebriated was careful not to give her his full weight. The last thing he needed was to topple her over. Lord knows if she fell on the floor, he’d go down with her. Then they’d both be stuck there for who knows how long, because he was pretty damn certain he wouldn’t be able to get back up.
“I’m sorry,” he groaned as Nikki led him into one of the bedrooms. “I don’t ever do this. Really I don’t.”
Nikki said nothing. She could sense he meant his words. He was having a difficult time speaking, yet he’d wanted her to hear him say that. “Hey, the only one here you’re hurting is yourself. Apologize to the mirror, because I’m not the one who’s going to have the headache from hell when I wake up.”
Thomas frowned. “You’re right about that,” he mumbled as she led him the rest of the way into the bedroom.
“Maybe next time you’ll talk to me instead of drowning your sorrows in drink,” Nikki said ruthlessly. She figured he was learning his lesson, because without a doubt he would be sick as a dog when he woke up. He was already heading that way quickly.
He half groaned and half whimpered as he plopped down onto the bed. “You’re a big meanie, Dr. Cavanah.”
Nikki’s eyes widened when he called her by his last name. Her heart began beating rapidly. “Get some sleep,” she whispered, reminding herself he’d been drinking. “I’ll come check on you throughout the night.”
Thomas rolled over onto his back and flung an arm over his head. “Nikki,” he mumbled as he closed his eyes.
“Yes?” she quietly asked, still reeling from his reference to her as Dr. Cavanah.
“Come here.”
She blinked, then did as he’d asked. Quietly padding back over to the bed, she came to a stop next to it.
“Come here,” he growled without opening his eyes.
“I’m here.”
He frowned, his dark eyes slowly opening. “Closer,” he grumbled.
Nikki didn’t know what he wanted, but figured he probably didn’t either. What made sense to a man who had been drinking often made little or no sense to anybody else. Still, she leaned in closer, her breasts dangling next to his face. “Yes?” she whispered.
Thomas reached up and began gently massaging her nipples through the fabric of the T-shirt she wore. She swallowed a bit roughly, but didn’t stop him. He played with them about thirty seconds or so, arousing her beyond belief, before his hands fell to his sides and his eyes closed again.
She blew out a breath and, with some effort, straightened up.
“I know what name I called you by,” he muttered, as if reading her thoughts.
She stilled. “Get some rest,” Nikki said softly. “You need it.”
Thomas ignored
her. “Freud once said the only time people tell the truth is when they are tired or drunk.” He opened his eyes long enough to rake his gaze over her. “I’m both.”
Nikki checked on Thomas countless times throughout the night. She could tell he was in a great deal of pain. Being a doctor, and worried to boot, she encouraged him to try and vomit just in case he did have alcohol poisoning. But even when she held out a garbage can for him to relieve himself in, he wouldn’t do it. Too stubborn to show a weakness, she supposed.
Every time she went in the bedroom to check on Thomas, he didn’t want her to leave. He would mutter for her to lie down beside him, which she did for the few minutes it would take for him to fall back to sleep.
She enjoyed those stolen moments more than she cared to admit. She doubted he’d remember the way she ran her fingers through his sweat-soaked hair, or whispered encouraging words to him as she kissed him on the forehead. She let herself indulge in those acts, reminding herself that it was now or never, for when he awoke he might still be upset and not want her around him at all.
Nikki thought back on Thomas’s mumbled words about Freud, softly smiling as she did so. Inebriated as he was, the detective had more or less confessed that he harbored feelings toward her, feelings he was unlikely to admit to sober. If that was the case, any hopes at a future with him would be like the deaf leading the blind. He was too stubborn to admit to caring about her, and she was too wracked with self-doubt to admit to caring about him.
In some ways—for example, professionally—Nikki had a lot of confidence, but where relationships were concerned, and men in general, she possessed enough ego to fill the head of a pin, if that. Still, she hoped those mumbled words had been true. Even if nothing ever resulted from that confession, she’d always hug the memory close to her heart.
The next time Nikki entered the bedroom to check on Thomas, she could tell he was having nightmares. His forehead was sweating profusely, his body was shaking slightly, and he kept mumbling incoherently in a sad, broken voice that left her wondering more than ever before just what Detective O’Rourke had said to him on the phone to cause this.
“Amy,” Thomas muttered, a pained expression on his face even in slumber, “my sweet Amy.”
Nikki closed her eyes, hating herself for feeling jealousy. He was obviously speaking about a woman who had meant a great deal to him, a woman who had been killed at Lucifer’s hands. She was dead, this woman, and yet Nikki was jealous of her. She hated admitting to it, but knew it was true.
Thomas’s labored breathing told her his heart rate was over the top, a fact that made her forget her jealousy long enough to run to the bed and sit down beside him. “Shhh . . . you’re okay, big guy,” she whispered, running a soothing hand over his perspiration-drenched forehead. “It’s just a dream.”
“Amy,” he whimpered, the first vulnerable sound she’d ever heard him make. He flung an arm over his head. “I love you.”
Nikki closed her eyes against the pain, reminding herself that the woman was dead. Don’t be jealous of a ghost. That’s not right.
Right or not, the jealousy she felt in regards to Amy clawed at her gut, made her want to run as far and as fast as she could. It made her want to quit loving Thomas . . . .
Love him? She sighed. She just didn’t know. But what she was certain of was the fact that she cared very deeply for him, apparently deeply enough to even experience jealousy she had no right to feel. And because she cared for him, the rest shouldn’t matter. She needed to help him get through this night, if nothing else. When he had recovered, she would deal with the rest.
“Amy’s okay,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. She hated the pain he was going through and hated herself for the jealous way she’d reacted to it. “She’s in a safe place now. Get some sleep, Thomas.” She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Get some sleep.”
“I’m so sorry,” Thomas rasped out before he finally collapsed and fell back to sleep. “Amy . . . so damn sorry.”
Nikki inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly. “She loves you, too,” she whispered, her voice catching. “Go to sleep.”
Chapter 22
Thursday, July 24 1:08 P·M·
Nikki’s bags had been packed and ready to go since six o’clock in the morning. She hadn’t gotten very much restful sleep last night, so as the day wore on she felt more and more fatigued. She had come this close to calling a cab and returning to Cleveland without telling Thomas in person, but in the end decided that as much as he had gone out of his way to protect her, she at least owed him something in the way of an explanation.
Not that she could tell him the truth about why she was leaving. The truth was too embarrassing . . . and didn’t reflect well on her as a person.
What would she say to him if he pressed for the total truth? How could she ever look herself in the mirror again if she heard herself say the words aloud: I am jealous of a dead woman. Yes, a serial killer is stalking me, but I’d rather face him than these feelings I have for you. No, I did not pass the sixth grade . . . .
Nikki sighed as she placed her bags next to the front door, then stood there and stared at them. She knew Thomas was going to think she was an idiot for leaving, but in the end what could he do to stop her?
And would he even try? She morosely considered the fact that he might be just as eager to see her go. Maybe he was as uncomfortable being locked away with her in a world that boasted a population of two as she now was with him.
“Going somewhere, Doc?”
Nikki spun around on her heel, her eyes rounding. “I didn’t realize you’d woken up yet.”
Thomas frowned. “Apparently not,” he muttered as he slowly walked toward her. “I’ve been awake for some time. Recovering.”
Nikki’s heart began rapidly palpitating, the same way it generally did in the detective’s presence. Wearing only jeans, jeans that were slightly unzipped at that, he looked as masculinely beautiful as ever. She glanced down, absently noting the black hair that tapered off into a thin line that trailed down into his jeans and disappeared, before glancing back up to his face.
“I wasn’t going to leave without telling you,” she whispered.
His eyes narrowed. “You aren’t going to leave period,” he growled.
“Thomas . . .”
“What the hell is this about?” His nostrils flared. “Tell me.”
She inclined her head, preparing to spew out her well-rehearsed speech. “I appreciate everything you’ve done to protect me,” Nikki began, “but I need to get back to work before I don’t have a work left to go to. I’ll stay with Kim and Megan,” she said quickly when his eyes further narrowed. “I’ll have a well-trained guard with me at all times.” She tentatively smiled, glad that she’d managed to get the entire speech out so well despite the fact that she felt like she was dying on the inside.
“Bullshit,” he ground out, making her smile fade. “You’ll have a well-trained guard with you at all times, true. I know that’s true because I’m him.” His jaw clenched. “Otherwise, everything you said is bullshit and we both know it.”
Her chin went up a notch. “I’m leaving and that’s that.” Nikki sighed, rubbing her temples. “Look, Thomas, I don’t want to argue. You and I both know it’s illegal to hold me here against my will. There’s no point in going through this. I’m leaving and I’m not changing my mind. Would you like to return to Cleveland with me, or should I call a cab and catch a flight?”
Thomas smiled—something he rarely did, so it immediately put her on guard. “Did you notice the deadbolt?” he murmured.
Nikki’s eyebrows drew together. “Yes, what about it?”
“Did you notice it’s been engaged, and won’t open without a key?”
She stilled. She swiveled her neck around far enough to see what he was talking about. Sure enough, there it was. A tiny padlock she hadn’t noticed before. A tiny padlock she was certain hadn’t been there before. She whirled around to face him. “What k
ind of a game are you playing here? Give me the damn key!”
His eyebrows shot up. “Finders keepers, losers weepers.”
She gritted her teeth. “What you are doing is illegal, immoral, and . . . and . . . arrg! Just give me the damn key!”
“Nope.”
“I want to go home!” she screeched. “Thomas Cavanah—give me that key!”
“No.” Thomas turned on his heel and strode toward the kitchen.
Nikki felt like screaming with frustration. Instead, she stomped off into the next room, following him. “What is the big deal if someone protects me here or in Cleveland? As to that, what’s to stop Lucifer from finding me in Cincinnati if he wants me badly enough? What the hell is wrong with you? I want to leave!”
Thomas turned around and glared down at her. “Why?” he barked. “Tell me the truth or this conversation is over.”
“I did tell you the truth!”
He frowned. “You might as well go to the bedroom and take a load off, Doc,” he muttered. “Because this conversation is officially over.”
Nikki’s eyes turned a bit desperate. “You can’t just keep me here like this,” she breathed. “I want to leave. Don’t force me to call the police on you, Thomas.”
He sighed as he opened up the refrigerator. “You’ll leave when I say so and not a moment before then,” he told her in a monotone. “Would you like something to eat?”
Her nostrils flared. “Then you leave me no choice. I’m calling the police,” she informed him as she spun around and made her way toward the living room.
Thomas slammed the refrigerator door shut and stomped off behind her. “Good luck,” he growled, “because I’ve taken care of that situation too.”
Nikki ignored him as she scooped the phone up off of its cradle.
“I knew you were packing, Doc. I saw you this morning when I got up to shower!”
She gasped when she realized the phone line had been disabled. “This is really smart!” she fumed as she slammed the phone down and spun around on her heel to face off with him. “What if something should happen and we needed to call out!”
Jaid Black Page 18