by Kara Lennox
“Oh, yeah…I guess I was.” His face tensed with remembered pain; then he seemed to swat it away like a troublesome mosquito. He returned to the bed and sank to the edge, then offered her a hand. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? Please tell me I didn’t hurt you.”
“No, I got out of the way.” She pulled herself up, then sat down next to him, pulling the covers over her legs and hips in a sudden fit of modesty.
“I guess I should have warned you not to try to wake me if I had a nightmare.”
“You have a lot of these dreams, huh?”
He gave her a wary look. “Not so often anymore, but yeah, every once in a while.”
“I did a rotation in a sleep clinic, so I know about this kind of dream. I know it’s dangerous to wake someone…like you…having a violent dream, but you sounded like you were in agony so I had to do something.” She was careful not to use any jargon that he might interpret as a diagnosis, knowing how he felt about her head-shrinking ways.
He reached up and lightly caressed her cheek with two fingers. “Thanks. Sorry I scared you.”
“I wasn’t scared. I knew what was happening.” She was concerned, because she knew what was going on. He had suffered some kind of physical or emotional trauma.
But Billy was definitely not the kind of man to comfortably wear a label like post-traumatic stress disorder.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she continued.
“No. It was just a dream.”
“I promise, I can listen without judging or offering advice. Just as a friend, not a therapist.”
“You might be able to keep quiet, but that wouldn’t stop you from thinking all kinds of things I don’t want you thinking about me.”
“I won’t think you’re crazy. I would already know if you were in need of a padded room.” Maybe if she kept it light, he would feel comfortable enough to open up.
Billy rubbed his knee. “Maybe I do need a padded room. I hit that dresser pretty hard.”
“Come on, let’s go back to bed,” she said soothingly. “I could kiss that knee and make it all better.”
He smiled, but it looked a bit forced to her. “I won’t be able to go back to sleep,” he said. “I know enough not to try. Why don’t you try to catch a couple more hours of sleep? I’m gonna get up.”
She hadn’t actually suggested that they sleep. She was frankly surprised he hadn’t jumped at her blatant invitation for more sex. The dream must have upset him a lot more than he was letting on.
She hated that he wouldn’t trust her with his true feelings, that he felt he had to shield her from his real self. He wasn’t evil like Raymond, but he was a man who hadn’t come to terms with himself and until he did, he was a danger to himself and those who loved him.
He patted her knee and stood up, the incident over as far as he was concerned. But she wasn’t ready to let it go.
“Billy, I need for you to come back to bed. I need holding, if nothing else. Just for a few minutes, then you can get up. Okay?”
“Of course, cielito, of course. I guess it’s pretty upsetting, waking up and finding your bed partner acting like a raving lunatic.”
“A little unnerving, if you’re not expecting it,” she agreed, crawling back to her side of the bed and wiggling under the sheet and beadspread. She held up the covers, inviting him to slide in beside her.
He opened his arms, and she snuggled up next to him.
Her ear was against his chest, and she was shocked by how rapid his heart rate was. He might be pretending normalcy, but his vital signs gave him away.
“Comfy?” he asked.
“Yes,” she lied. “Thank you.”
“I might have been a little hasty, wanting to get up. I’m not used to having a woman hanging at my place, in my bed.”
“Well, I’ll be out of your hair soon.”
“I wasn’t complaining.”
“Billy?”
“What?” he asked warily.
“You’ve called me by a nickname several times now, and I don’t know what it means. Cielito?”
“Oh.” He sounded embarrassed. “Literally translated, it means ‘little sky.’ What it really means is ‘my little slice of heaven.’”
Tears sprang into Claudia’s eyes. “That’s so sweet.”
It was tempting just to lie there and fall asleep. It felt so good, having him hug her and protect her with those muscular arms. But she wasn’t really the one who needed comforting, despite what she’d said.
“Billy?”
“Mmm?”
“Sheila. She was your partner back in Dallas, right?”
He immediately tensed. “Yes.”
“Was she more than your partner?”
“Would it matter if she was?”
So, the answer was yes. “I know you’ve had lovers. That’s not a problem. I’ve had a few myself. So I’m not asking out of idle curiosity. It’s just that…you called out her name.”
“When we were making love?” He sounded horrified.
“No. When you were having that nightmare.”
“It was just a dream,” he said impatiently. “Forget about it.”
She sighed. “I can’t.”
“It doesn’t concern you. She’s way in the past and she has nothing to do with you and me.”
“I disagree.” She sat up, wanting to see his face. Then she wished she hadn’t. He was angry with her. But she couldn’t let this pass without at least making sure he understood how she felt. “Past relationships I can deal with. But if you’re going to shout out another woman’s name while I’m sleeping with you, just hours after we made love…that tells me you have unfinished business with her. And that makes it my concern.”
“Could you just let it alone?”
“Only if I don’t want any true intimacy. If you’re wanting a friend with bedroom privileges, that’s fine, but it’s not going to be me. I’m sorry, I can’t do that. I can’t do casual relationships without collateral damage.”
“You were willing to have an hour of smutty sex with no strings,” he reminded her. “The first time. At your office.”
She grimaced. “Sometimes I manage to lie to myself, too. But on some level, I’d hoped making love with you would open the door to other things. Anyway, we weren’t talking about me.”
“We weren’t talking about me, either, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Why are you being so stubborn about this?”
“Why are you?” he countered.
“I care about you,” she said softly. “Maybe I even love you a little. I know it’s only been a week, and that’s kind of crazy on my part.” She chanced a peek at him. He didn’t seem shocked by her admission. That was good. Wasn’t it?
“I care about you, too, mi coshita linda. Which is exactly why you shouldn’t know everything about me.”
“There’s nothing you could tell me that would frighten me so badly I’d run. Please, tell me what happened with Sheila. Do you still have feelings for her?”
“Yes.”
Her heart sank. Maybe he was right; maybe it was better if she didn’t know.
“But not the kind of feelings you’re talking about.” He pulled away from her, climbed out of bed and went to the dresser, rummaging around for underwear and a T-shirt. “Sheila was my partner, my friend, and yes, my lover. She’s also dead, shot through the heart, and I killed her.
“There, now, aren’t you glad you asked?”
He stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door. Moments later, she heard the shower running.
She was so stunned, she couldn’t move. He’d killed her? Claudia hugged her pillow as memories swamped her. She thought of that awful moment when she’d seen the police artist sketch of a suspected serial killer and had realized with stunning clarity that it was the man she’d just slept with.
But this was different. Billy wasn’t a killer, that was preposterous. Maybe he’d shot his partner in self-defense. No, she couldn’t picture that at all
. He had to mean he was responsible somehow, not that he’d pulled the trigger.
He’d already as much as admitted he’d been responsible for someone’s death. But his partner? His lover? Something like that would brand a man for life. It was the sort of trauma you never got over. You might learn to function, rejoin society, you might even take a lover or marry and have kids.
But you didn’t forget. It was likely Billy thought about Sheila’s death, whatever the circumstances, every day of his life. And if he’d never gotten help, professional help, it might be worse than that.
What sort of Pandora’s box had she opened?
She should have left well enough alone. What right did she have to push and prod him like she had? Yes, she’d been trying to help, but she’d also been looking after her own interests. She was the one who couldn’t feel safe with a man unless she knew every nook and cranny of his psyche.
Sound relationships were built on trust, and she wouldn’t back away from that truth. But did she have the right to expect Billy to trust her completely with his deepest, darkest secrets when their relationship was only a few days old?
Really, she’d asked too much, pushed too hard until she’d broken what she’d hoped to build.
It was a moot point now. She’d probably blown any chance they had of making this relationship work. The only thing she’d accomplished was convincing Billy she was an inflexible, nosy, interfering harpy.
* * *
BY THE TIME BILLY WANDERED into the kitchen, Claudia was already dressed and making coffee. She stood over the coffeemaker now, staring at it as if that would make it brew faster.
He started to smile, then remembered he was mad at her.
And a little mad at himself for losing his temper. Shortly after the incident that had cost Sheila her life, he’d had a hair-trigger temper. Anything could set him off. But he’d worked on that, and now he almost never lost his cool.
He knew Claudia was just trying to be helpful, but he’d made his feelings clear on this subject matter, and she kept pushing and pushing. Finally she’d pushed him beyond his capacity to be understanding about it.
“You want breakfast?” he asked. “I think I have more eggs. Or cereal, if you’d rather.”
She glanced at her watch, as if she was worried about the time. Which was utterly ridiculous. The sun was just nudging its way over the horizon, peeking through the kitchen window. It was still early, not even six o’clock.
“I need to get home, do a few things there.”
“Just because we had an argument doesn’t mean I’m going to wash my hands of you,” he said. “I promised Daniel I’d keep you safe.”
“That’s…noble of you.” She came out of the shadows, and he realized she’d been crying. Damn it. He’d made her cry. But he couldn’t change that, and he couldn’t go backward. She knew, now. Maybe she didn’t know all the details, but she could find those out easily enough. A simple Google search would bring up numerous articles about the bust that had netted some pretty big drug kingpins for the Dallas Police Department—and cost one detective her life.
“Regardless of what happens with us,” he said evenly, “we still have a case to work on. A woman’s life to save.”
“You still want to work with me?” she asked, sounding surprised.
“I might ask you the same thing. Last woman I worked with didn’t fare so well.”
He expected her to jump on that, maybe demand, once again, that he tell her what happened.
“I’m not worried about that,” she said dismissively. “I’m still committed to finding Eduardo and freeing Mary-Francis. That hasn’t changed. But I really need to go home. I have plants to water, my mailbox is probably overflowing, I need clothes, I left a bowl of fresh fruit on my dining room table that must be turning to mush as we speak.”
“Fair enough.”
“Afterward…maybe I should take up Daniel and Jamie’s offer. Go to the party, then stay at their place until this mess is resolved. Even if we never find who assaulted me, if we find Eduardo, no one will have any reason to try to scare me again.”
Claudia moved to stare out the window, and Billy took up her vigil over the coffeepot. “You can stay here, you know.”
“No, I’ve inconvenienced you enough.”
Billy’s heart sank into his stomach. She was leaving. In the back of his mind, he’d been hoping there was some way to smooth over what he’d done, first scaring her with his violent nightmare and then blurting out the harsh truth. He hadn’t wanted to tell her at all, but he certainly shouldn’t have told her like that.
She’d already dated one guy who’d killed people. After hearing his unvarnished confession, she must doubt her ability to pick boyfriends.
“Claudia, about what I said earlier—”
She held up one hand, stopping him. “Please, there’s no need to explain or apologize. I should never have pressured you like that. You have a right to your privacy.”
And she had the right to walk away.
“I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”
She shrugged. “It happens. What time are you meeting Beth at the church?”
“Not until eight o’clock.”
“Plenty of time to get to Daniel’s and back. It’s a holiday, so the traffic won’t be bad.”
If she wanted to get away from him that bad, he’d oblige her. He gulped down his hot coffee, burning his mouth and strangely welcoming the pain. His penance for hurting her. No, that wasn’t right. His penance was far worse than a sore mouth. It was a lifetime knowing that he’d pushed away the best chance he’d ever have at happiness.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
AS BILLY DROVE THROUGH the massive gates of the Logan Estate, he was impressed all over again by the almost ridiculous opulence in the tony River Oaks area, smack in the middle of Houston. Daniel’s father, who’d made millions, then billions, in Texas petroleum and natural gas, had built the house brick by brick using building materials reclaimed from an English castle. Even the driveway was made from old cobblestones, and if Billy hadn’t known better, he would think he had been transported to some English manor house.
Inside, however, everything was up-to-date. The decor might be traditional, at least in some rooms, but the whole house was computerized with surveillance, sensors on all of the valuable paintings, a climate control system that sensed when rooms were occupied and acted accordingly, and a kitchen that would dazzle any professional chef in the world.
Daniel had promised that today’s party would be understated. No one wanted to be reminded of the Christmas party, when the house had been tricked out like a holiday fantasy land with ice sculptures and fake snowfall, and Daniel’s future wife had nearly died from an attempted murder.
But as a valet took possession of Billy’s car keys, Billy couldn’t help noticing that a truck was delivering cartons of fireworks, which were being stored in the five-car garage.
The party was well underway as Elena, Daniel’s personal assistant, greeted Billy at the door in a festive red, white and blue shorts outfit and high heels. She reminded Billy of a 1940s pinup girl, and maybe that was the intention.
“So glad you could make it,” she said. “Did you bring your bathing suit? We have loads of extras in all sizes if you need something.”
“I’m good.”
Had Claudia brought a swimsuit? He’d dropped her off here early this morning, but they’d stopped by her condo so she could pick up the mail, water the plants and pack a few things.
He wondered what kind of bathing suit she would wear. Bikini? Or conservative one-piece? Suddenly he wanted to know. Despite everything, he didn’t want other people to see her in a swimsuit unless he was there to warn the wolves away.
He would bust the chops of the first man who made any kind of off-color comment about Claudia’s hot bod, no matter who it was. Hell, he wasn’t sure if he could tolerate any guy even looking at her. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
Elena flashed a thousand
-watt smile. “There are all kinds of food and drink out on the patio. Just follow the stars.”
Sure enough, someone had stuck red, white and blue glittered stars on the floor.
Billy followed the star path through the marble-floored foyer with its central fountain, into the airplane-hangar-size living room, through a solarium and a set of French doors onto the flagstone patio, where the party was already in full swing.
A live country band held sway under a canopy on the other side of the Olympic-size pool. Huge barbecue grills were set up at points all over the patio, with professionals in tall white hats prepping everything from sirloin tips to plain old hot dogs. The smell of grilling meats, popcorn and cotton candy filled the air. It was as though he’d stepped into a high-class carnival. A sign near the band read Pony Rides and pointed toward an oversize golf cart, where a couple of kids bounced up and down, anticipating the adventure that awaited them at the stables.
A passing waitress offered him a cold bottle of beer, but he declined. He wasn’t in a drinking mood. His eyes scanned the crowd, looking for Claudia, but he didn’t see her.
Daniel’s golden retriever, Tucker, ran up and down the side of the pool, barking at some of the people from the foundation in the midst of a spirited game of pool volleyball.
“Hey, Cantu,” shouted Griffin Benedict, one of the other investigators and also Raleigh’s husband. “Come join our side, we’re hurtin’.”
“What are you talking about?” said senior investigator Ford Hyatt from the other side of the net. “You guys are one point ahead.”
“Yeah, but we got one less player.”
“But half our team is girls!”
“And we suck,” Raleigh said good-naturedly.
“Sure, I’ll play,” Billy said. “Give me a couple of minutes.” He made a quick circuit around the patio area, again looking for Claudia. Now that he was in the habit of worrying about her, it was hard to stop. Not that anything could happen to her here; Daniel had enough security to host a United Nations summit.
But he’d had security at the Christmas party, too, and look what had happened there.
Finally Billy spotted Claudia, sitting under a striped umbrella talking to Jillian, the intern and also his neighbor, who cradled a tiny infant. Claudia looked elegant in a pale green sundress and blue metallic sandals, a wide-brimmed hat shading her from the sun. He willed her to look up, but she seemed totally entranced by the baby, who must have belonged to one of the Logan Oil people. No one he knew at Project Justice had a new baby.