Then it struck her with the force of a blow—of course. Of course he left the bed. He was leaving more than the bed, he was leaving her.
She could imagine him getting dressed now, repacking his bag. Of course he was going. Who wanted to stay with a crazy woman with monsters in her head that came tumbling out at night, fanged and ravening?
She steeled herself for the stilted apology, the awkward leave-taking. The cold, empty silence once he’d gone.
She would not cry, she would not cry, she would not cry. She wouldn’t beg him to stay. Douglas leaving her was perfectly natural. He’d have to be insane to stay, and he’d struck her as a very sane, balanced man.
Allegra lifted her head, turning it, trying to locate Douglas by sound. He moved so quietly for such a big man. Maybe—maybe he was dressing in the next room. She hoped he’d at least come to say goodbye before—
“Here.” The bed dipped and a glass of cold water was put in her hand. His hand cupped hers as he lifted the glass to her mouth. “Drink.”
Allegra’s hand trembled. How could she drink when her throat was closed so tightly she could hardly breathe?
“Come on now, honey. Drink this, you need it.”
That was a voice to obey. She drank, and to her surprise the ice water went down.
“All the way, that’s a good girl.”
She finished the glass. Somehow she found herself sitting back against a wall of hairy man. Douglas’ arms were around her, crossed at her waist. She tilted her head back against his shoulder and closed her eyes. “I thought you’d gone away,” she said wearily.
“Now why would I leave?” He sounded genuinely puzzled.
Because I’m blind. Because I think I’m going crazy. Because I rarely sleep without waking up screaming from nightmares I can never, ever remember. Because my life is gone.
“Thought I’d scared you away,” she mumbled.
His arms tightened briefly. “Can you talk about it? What was the nightmare about?”
Good question. She never remembered. It washed away immediately, a great sucking tidal wave of jumbled images, leaving a detritus of horror. She’d wake up in a sweaty panic, the sense of imminent menace making her heart pound, and a second after waking, she could never remember what the nightmare was about.
It was an added touch of horror. At least if she could remember what she’d dreamed, these nightmares that had her panicked and sweaty, she could rationalize them away. But there was nothing to be done—the nightmare disappeared like smoke in the wind. The harder she tried to catch meaning, the worse her head hurt.
“I can’t remember,” she said dully. I never do. “I—” She shrugged, shards of jagged memories jumbling and dissipating. “It’s gone.”
“Does your head hurt now?”
How did he know that? “Yes,” she whispered.
“Don’t think of anything, anything at all. Make your mind a blank.”
She tried. Some of the images and words whirling in her head slowed, disappeared.
“Now think of something calm. The ocean—think of the ocean. Waves rolling in one after another, the foam rising up like lace.”
“The sea at Dingle,” she breathed.
“Yeah, I’ve been there, I know that beach. Long and white, big cliffs at the back, right?”
“Oh, yes.” She’d played on that beach endlessly as a child with all the Ennis cousins. Just thinking of the beach calmed her.
“It’s always chilly along the beach, but the air is clean and pure and has a special light to it. You can walk for hours and all you see is sea and sky and gulls. It’s like living at the dawn of time, isn’t it, honey?”
Yes, that was exactly what it was like.
A click. The light going off.
Douglas slid down in bed, taking her with him. She was on her side, Douglas spooned behind her. He was deliberately surrounding her with warmth and human contact.
It felt just as good as the sex that had gone before.
Her heart rate was slowing down. She could hear his heartbeat against her back, slow and steady. She tried to breathe calmly, tried to order her scattered self.
It was hard because she was coming to a chilling realization. She thought the very worst that could happen to her in life was the loss of her sight.
She’d been wrong.
Losing her mind was infinitely more terrifying than losing her sight.
Chapter Fourteen
“Honey, wake up. Allegra, come on, open those gorgeous eyes of yours.” Kowalski shook her shoulder gently. He didn’t want to leave while she was still asleep.
Allegra nestled deeper into the blankets. One slender hand pulled out from under the blanket and her forefinger waved back and forth. No.
Kowalski grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Time to get up.”
“What will you give me if I do?” Her voice was muffled by the pillow.
He smiled. “Well, coffee and what looks like the world’s finest croissant.”
She turned her head on the pillow but didn’t open her eyes. “The Mancinos call them ‘cornetti.’ Okay, cornetti. That’s good, but not good enough. What else?”
“Whole-wheat bread, butter and homemade jam. Don’t know what kind it is, but it sure smells good.”
“Color?”
“Ahh…” Kowalski was stumped. “Purple?”
“Blueberry.” Allegra finally opened her eyes. “You drive a hard bargain, Senior Chief, but blueberry jam it is.”
“Uh huh, tough guy, that’s me.” Kowalski bent to kiss the tip of her nose. He kept his tone light but watched her carefully.
She’d slept the rest of the night after the nightmare, thank God. Fuck, but she’d scared him. The terrified mewling sounds she’d made while in the grip of the nightmare had made his hair stand on end. She’d been clammy and shaking when he’d roused her from whatever horror she’d been living in her head.
He made sure she slept surrounded by him for the rest of the night. He was going to nip any other nightmares right in the bud from now on. But luckily, she seemed to have slept easy the rest of the night.
He hadn’t. He’d slept in a state of combat readiness. It was a shallow-sleeping technique SF soldiers used to give their bodies necessary downtime but allow them to be ready to fight in a split second.
He hadn’t had to fight, he’d just had to worry.
Allegra this morning looked just fine, though, he thought, as he helped her to the bathroom. Rosy and rested.
They were getting a rhythm. She’d hold out her hand, waiting for his arm. Once she had a hold on him, she relaxed and was able to follow his lead. He left her in the bathroom and finished preparing breakfast.
It was going to be a busy day, so he fixed a big breakfast for himself. He had a lot to do today and wanted to get back to Allegra as soon as possible, so that meant skipping lunch.
The bread popped out of the toaster as she walked into the room. She stopped at the threshold, waiting, slender hand out. It pleased him beyond measure that she wanted him, needed him. She smiled when she felt his arm.
“Wow, smells wonderful,” she said, once she was sitting down.
“You know, you could make a fortune by selling to restaurants what’s in your freezer. Butter?” She nodded. Kowalski poured her coffee and buttered her toast for her. “Bless the Mancinos, whoever they are. This stuff is great.”
“Oh, yes.” Allegra smiled.
“What are you doing today?” Kowalski asked, polishing off his third piece of toast and picking up the next.
“Well, Rosa’s sister-in-law Francesca is coming to clean house for me, so there will be a whole new layer of food, in case that interests you. Francesca’s specialty is homemade pasta, so expect pans and pans of lasagna and ziti, and this funny ear-shaped pasta called orecchiette. I usually practice the harp while she’s cleaning. She says she loves to hear me play and sing, so it suits both of us. And anyway, I’m practicing for her son’s christening. I promised I’d play at the
reception next month. So I’ll practice all morning. Then I’m meeting Suzanne for lunch at The Garden. We made the date last week. She hasn’t called to cancel, so I guess it’s still on. Suzanne’s very reliable that way. Claire was supposed to come, too, but she’ll probably still be at the hospital with Bud.”
Kowalski put down his fourth slice of toast with a frown. Lunch…hell, it was going to be tricky and tight. He had to run downtown to Portland Police HQ for a debriefing, and then he had an 11:30 appointment with a former FBI Hostage Rescue Team member, Jack Thompson. Thompson had a great résumé, and both Midnight and Kowalski thought he’d bring deep skills to the company. But the interview would take time. Shit.
“When’s your appointment?”
“Noon.” Allegra serenely finished her toast. “Where’s the milk?”
“Bravo, red, two o’clock.” She found it immediately and smiled, pleased. “Listen, honey, I don’t know if I can make it here in time. I’ve got a really heavy morning.”
“In time for what?” she frowned, as her head swiveled to his voice.
“To drive you to The Garden. Do you think you could call Suzanne and ask her if she could put lunch off until one?”
“You don’t need to drive me anywhere, Douglas. Suzanne will be stopping by to pick me up and anyway, if she can’t, I’ll just call a cab. I have the number of the cab company memorized.”
“No.” Kowalski kept his tone even, though the thought of Allegra calling a taxi, being alone in a cab with a stranger, made him want to punch his fist through the wall. “Don’t call a cab. Call me if Suzanne can’t make it. If I’m not free, I’ll send one of my men.” Jacko was free this morning, Kowalski would see to it.
Jacko was even a worse nightmare to look at than he was. At least Kowalski dressed normally. Jacko dressed in ancient sweatshirts with the sleeves cut off, raggedy torn jeans and scuffed boots, no coat, no matter what the weather, even in the snow. That put people off almost as much as the viper tats, shaved head, and nose and brow rings.
People looked away when Kowalski entered a room. People crossed to the other side of the street when Jacko walked down the sidewalk.
Didn’t matter. Jacko might look like something out of a horror movie, but Kowalski trusted him with his life. Had trusted him with his life several times. More importantly, he trusted Jacko with Allegra’s life.
Allegra was frowning as she sipped her coffee.
“Promise me you’ll call.” Kowalski covered her hand with his and waited. The one thing he didn’t want was for that lovely chin to go up, for her to get into a pissing contest with him.
He already knew that he was weak where Allegra was concerned. He’d never backed down from anything in his life, but he would with her. However long she wanted to stay with him, they’d do what she wanted. Eat what she wanted to eat, go where she wanted to go, do what she wanted to do. She could wrap him around her little finger. That was simply the way it was and the way it would be. He accepted it.
Except for one thing. Her personal safety. And there Kowalski was a rock—he wouldn’t give an inch. She was not going to take a cab, and that was that.
“Promise me,” he said, and watched her carefully.
That chin went up as she contemplated Irish rebellion, then trembled. She clearly knew he was right. Maybe she’d had a bad experience or two in a taxi. “Promise.” His grip on her hand tightened slightly.
He watched Allegra teeter on the edge, then give up.
“Okay. I promise.”
Nail it down, he thought. “You promise what?”
She heaved a sigh. “I promise, I swear, I won’t call a taxi.”
“Not today, not ever.”
“Not today, not ever,” she repeated obediently, and blinked. “Wow, that’s going to be hard.”
“Nope, easiest thing in the world. You need a ride, you call me. Simple as that. Memorize my cell phone number.” He gave it to her and made her repeat it until he was satisfied she’d remember it. “If I can’t drive you, one of my men will. I’ll see to it.” Kowalski was going to find himself a trusted man—a retired cop, say—and keep him on retainer to act as Allegra’s driver. It would save his sanity.
“And you?” Allegra’s small hand flexed under his. “Will you—will you be back tonight?”
Her eyes were huge as she turned to him. She couldn’t see him but she was listening with every cell of her body.
Was she unsure about him? Unsure that he’d come back? That was crazy. He’d walk barefoot over live coals to be with her.
“Oh yeah.” He breathed the words, and his tone must have reassured her because she relaxed slightly. “I’ll be back, count on it. I’ll try to make it back—” Home. He almost said ‘home’. “I think I’ll be back by around 5:00.”
“I’ll be back by then, too. You can explore what Francesca left for me, have fun sifting through the pans. She’s a fabulous cook.” She smiled at him. “So—what’s your day like? Will you be busy?”
“Yeah. I have to go down to Portland PDHQ. Police Headquarters,” he added, when she looked puzzled. “I’ll have to be debriefed about what went down Saturday night.” Jesus, it felt like a century ago. A lifetime ago, when his heart had been whole, when his life had been his to decide. B.A. Before Allegra. “I have to make it back to the office by 11:30, though. I’m interviewing a guy for an executive position with the company. He’s got good credentials, looks fabulous on paper, former HRT.”
“That’s nice,” Allegra said absently, delicately picking up a slice of toast. She froze, the toast an inch from her mouth. She put the slice down slowly and turned to him with a furrow between her brows, looking baffled. “Douglas?”
Kowalski drained his cup and stood. He ran the back of a forefinger down the smooth curve of her cheek. “Yeah, honey?”
“Why on earth do you need a man who used to be on Hormone Replacement Therapy?”
Little bitch would be off balance today. That was good, that would make her weak, vulnerable. Ready for the end game. She wasn’t made for the big time, that was clear. She was soft, easy to scare. It took balls to become a star.
Yesterday she’d freaked. Alvin watched her turn white and collapse after he played Mr. Sanderson’s recording. She’d simply folded. She was with a guy—big ugly bruiser, and he’d caught her before she fell to the ground. Alvin wasn’t worried about the bruiser. He couldn’t know who Alvin was and the next time Alvin got near the little bitch, she’d be alone. He’d make sure of that.
Bitch was dangerous to Mr. Sanderson. She could put him behind bars forever and then how was Alvin supposed to make it?
Mr. Sanderson needed her dead and he needed it to look like a suicide. Easy enough. Have her think she was hearing ghosts, drive her crazy, then walk into her house when the big guy was gone and put her head in the oven.
She cooked with gas. Alvin knew because he’d been in the house while she was out. It was going to be a piece of cake.
Drive her nuts, wait for the boyfriend to leave, then walk in. Hold her by the hair so bruises wouldn’t show, then shove her head in the oven.
And then he’d be the new Eminem. No more changing bedpans and washing down freaks. No more shit work. Just music and babes and snow, forever. There was just one thing standing between him and his destiny—Allegra Ennis.
She was going down.
“Oh sweetie,” Suzanne said, “are you okay? I was so worried about you. I tried calling but the phone was always busy.”
Allegra tried not to blush. Douglas had taken the phone off the hook so they wouldn’t be disturbed.
They were in The Garden, waiting for their orders to arrive. Claire had phoned to say she’d be late and to go ahead and order for her. Her usual—soup of the day and a small salad.
Allegra knew Suzanne so well, it was as if she could see her. She’d have on one of her form-hugging, pale pastel, killer designer numbers that would never, ever show sweat or dirt or even wrinkles. Suzanne seemed to have an endless
variety of them, bought from some secret source. Her dark blonde hair would be perfectly coiffed, discreet expensive jewels glinting from ears and hands. The only non-discreet thing was the humongous wedding ring on the ring finger of her left hand. Allegra had touched it once and it felt like a faceted pigeon’s egg. Very non-Suzanne, but then her husband struck her as a non-Suzanne husband. Still, she seemed happy with him, which was what counted.
She’d be leaning forward now, tucking a stray lock of shiny hair behind her ear. When she talked to you, she focused and listened. Allegra loved that about her.
“I’m okay.” Allegra smiled, to take the worry out of Suzanne’s voice. She deliberately injected some Ireland into her own. “Quite a time we had at the Foundation, eh? Nothin’ like a little ruckus to keep the blood up.”
“Horrible.” Suzanne’s voice was quiet. “That such a violent thing should happen at the Parks Foundation. The next jewelry show will be bristling with guns and guards and will be one further step down into barbarity.” Allegra could feel the air displacement as Suzanne shivered with disgust. Suzanne’s hand covered hers for a brief moment. “It must have been so awful for you. I wanted to wait for you, but Douglas insisted he’d take you home. Did he see you to your door all right?”
“Ah, yes, yes he did.” And beyond.
Allegra blushed beet-red. She could feel it, feel the rush of blood to her face and throat, and cursed her pale Irish skin.
“Oh.” Suzanne blinked when she was surprised or taken aback, which wasn’t often. She was such a cool customer. But right now she was probably blinking up a frenzy. “Oh!” Quick intake of breath. “You mean you and—you and Douglas? I never would have—oh my gosh.”
Allegra knew what Suzanne was thinking.
After the accident, when she’d woken up from the coma to find herself blind, it was as if she’d entered some no-sex, no-pleasure zone. She wasn’t an attractive woman any more, one who could expect a degree of constant male interest in her, one who liked being young and pretty and female. No, now she was this damaged and neutered…thing. She’d been robbed of her femininity. Pretty clothes, daring makeup, the mild flirting any pretty young woman carries on with the men she meets—they’d all been taken from her. She lived in a dark, grim world where just getting through the day—keeping herself clean and fed and free of bruises—drained her of all energy. Boyfriends, lovers, flirting, sex—they were all beyond her, disappeared into the great yawning chasm of darkness that had engulfed her life.
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