When she opened her eyes, the sympathy and concern she found in his made the damned tears spill over her lashes and race down her cheeks.
“You miss him,” he whispered, sweeping the moisture away with his thumbs.
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I miss him.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then drew her into a hug.
Susan buried her face in his chest and wrapped her arms around him, embarrassed by her tears.
“It’s okay,” he continued in that gentle voice. “You don’t ever have to hide your tears from me. They’re not a weakness. They’re an expression of the love you bore him.” He rubbed his hands up and down her back in soothing strokes. “And I can feel your grief.”
“We were always close,” she told him, her voice thick. “Since we didn’t know anyone else who had gifts like us, we could only ever be ourselves with each other. Mom and Dad were killed in a car accident the year before I lost Nick. So it was sort of a double blow.”
His hold tightened. “And now I’ve brought more violence into your life.”
She shook her head. “You didn’t. The assholes who buried you in my basement did.”
His lips brushed her hair a second before he released her and backed away. “You can still go,” he said softly. His brown eyes now bore a faint amber glow and shone with concern. “Take your guns just in case and stay with your friend Anna or in a hotel. Leave me these.” He motioned to the 9mms on the table. “I’ll call you when—”
“No.”
“I won’t think less of you, if that’s why you wish to stay. You’ve already shown great courage—”
“I’m not leaving,” she interrupted. “This is my home, Stanislav. And you’re…” Well, she wasn’t sure exactly what he was to her. Her friend at the very least.
“Susan.”
“I’m staying,” she insisted.
After a moment, he nodded. “So be it. But I will confront them alone.” When she opened her mouth to spout a denial, he held up a hand. “I will confront them alone,” he repeated, his voice quiet yet resolute. “Knowing how to shoot a gun doesn’t make you comfortable with men aiming and firing theirs at you. Remember your experience in California, how terrifying it was and how difficult it was to think clearly. How much more so would it have been if those men had threatened you with weapons or even shot you? You’ve never been in armed combat before, Susan. I have.”
No sooner did he speak the words than Stanislav sucked in a breath. Pain rippled across his features as he bent forward slightly and pressed the heel of one hand to his forehead above his right eye.
And just like that, his mind opened to her.
Battle scenes flashed through it, similar to what she had seen before. Men firing automatic weapons at him while Stanislav fired his own at them. A Humvee plowing through the chaos, the flamethrower it bore spewing fire as men in camouflage raced toward Stanislav, weapons firing.
Her heart began to race.
The memory ended abruptly.
Stanislav squeezed his eyes closed and held his breath, weaving a bit on his feet.
Susan gripped his biceps to steady him.
His thoughts—still open to her—were as chaotic as the battle she’d seen. It had been such a tiny glimpse of his past. He wanted more and was furious that he couldn’t have it.
At last he released a long breath and straightened. He opened his eyes, met hers. The barriers he could erect to keep her from reading his mind reappeared, gently pushing her out.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly.
He nodded. “Aside from a blinding headache that is already beginning to fade, yes.”
Relinquishing her hold, she stared up at him. “How the hell did you survive that?” So many men had been doing their damnedest to kill him.
Was that what it had been like for Nick during his last moments?
He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping. “Maybe I didn’t. Maybe this is all a dream I’m having whilst I lie dying on that battlefield.”
“It isn’t a dream.” And she supposed bullets wouldn’t kill him, now that she thought about it. He had been riddled with wounds last night and all had healed within hours, so… yeah. Bullets probably wouldn’t kill him. That was a relief. But it also brought to mind some of the more disturbing things she had found in the security guy’s mind.
“What is it?” he asked, his gaze sharpening. “You’re uneasy again.”
Irritation rose. “You know, that really isn’t fair. I can’t read your mind, but you can still feel every tiny little change in my mood.”
“You’re right,” he acknowledged. “It isn’t fair. But that doesn’t answer my question. What troubles you?”
She sighed. “There’s something I haven’t told you. Something about Henry, the security guy. And before you ask, I didn’t tell you because it seemed utterly ridiculous. But in light of the new you”—she motioned to his large, muscled, very healthy body—“I’m thinking it might mean something.”
He eyed her curiously. “What is it?”
“You know how I told you Henry doesn’t know what exactly the package is, just that he thinks it might still be in the basement?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that isn’t precisely true. A couple of times…” She didn’t want to say it aloud. She really didn’t. “A couple of times the word vampire flitted through his mind.”
Stanislav stared at her while several long seconds ticked past.
“Henry seems to think the package is a vampire,” she attempted to clarify. “That you are a vampire.”
“And what do you think?” Stanislav asked carefully.
Her eyebrows rose. “That his colleagues must know about your rapid healing ability and passed it along to their not too bright yet very imaginative friend. He clearly coupled your rapid healing with your having survived being buried alive and drew a crazy conclusion.”
Another stretch of silence.
“You don’t think I’m a vampire?” he asked.
A surprised laugh escaped her. “No. Of course not. One: vampires only exist in fiction, folklore, and really bizarre dreams. And two: even if they did exist, they have fangs and can’t go out in daylight. You have a very nice set of teeth that are fang-free. And I’ve seen you go outside during the day at least three times. I even walked beside you, holding your hand, on one of those occasions.”
His smile seemed forced. “So I shouldn’t fear you’ll drive a wooden stake through my heart tonight?”
“Not unless you hog the popcorn bowl while we’re watching movies.”
The tightness in his face eased at that teasing threat. “Why are you telling me this now?”
Shrugging, she motioned to the ammo on the table. “I guess I thought you should be prepared in case Henry shows up tomorrow draped in garlic and armed with silver bullets.”
His lips stretched in a handsome grin. “I believe silver bullets are for werewolves, not vampires.”
“I know. But I don’t think Henry’s too swift.”
He laughed. “I agree.” His stomach chose that moment to rumble.
“I told you,” she crowed with a grin. “You have to put away a lot more food now that you’re so big. Fortunately, I stocked up. Let’s see what we can come up with for dinner, then talk strategy while we cook it.”
Chapter Eight
Henry and his cohorts didn’t break and enter the following day. Nor the one after that. Stanislav knew they were most likely just waiting long enough to ensure Susan had really left town. After his encounter with Henry, he didn’t doubt they would show sooner or later.
Based on the emotions his gift conveyed, Susan was alternately riddled with anxiety as the moment of confrontation was delayed and hopeful that it meant they weren’t going to show.
Stanislav filled in the hole in the basement and patted down the dirt so whoever came wouldn’t realize Susan had dug him up. They decided to leave Susan’s car parked in the drivewa
y and hoped the men would assume she had either taken a cab to the airport or had a friend give her a ride. They also left the front and back porch lights on night and day, something Susan said people often did when they went out of town. They turned on the same three lights inside at the same time every night—a lamp in her bedroom, the light at the base of the stairs near the front door and the kitchen light—to enable Susan to see and give the illusion that the lights were on a timer. They also kept the blinds lowered, the drapes closed, and made sure they never passed between the light and a window so they would cast no shadows in case the house was being watched.
If it was, whoever watched it did so from a distance, because Stanislav heard no automobiles. Nor did he hear any footsteps or heartbeats other than his own and Susan’s.
To pass the time and distract Susan, he encouraged her to return to her writing during the day. Then when night fell, they feasted on popcorn or other snacks while they lounged on her bed—hips and arms touching—and watched movies. Once they turned the television off, they tucked themselves beneath the covers and talked softly until sleep claimed Susan.
Stanislav slept little, merely catching a quick nap here or there to ensure he wouldn’t miss his enemies’ approach. He feared too much for Susan’s safety.
While she wrote, he read her novels. Most took place in medieval England and contained quite a bit of action. Lots of sword fights, truly despicable villains, and admirable heroes and heroines. Stanislav enjoyed them and couldn’t help but wonder if they were the first romance novels he had ever read or if his home library, wherever that might be, boasted dozens of them.
He liked the humor Susan wove through her stories. Even now, as he lounged on the foot of her bed, reading the latest, he laughed at something the bold, quirky heroine said.
Sitting at the head of the bed with her back against the wall, Susan glanced at him over her laptop and smiled.
“I like this woman,” he told her. “She’s strong, smart, and funny. She reminds me of you.”
She winked. “And the hero reminds me of you—tall, dark, and handsome with a heart of gold.”
Chuckling, he returned his attention to the paperback in his hands and vowed not to interrupt her work again.
A few pages later, the hero and heroine gave in to the attraction building between them and made love. His breath quickened as he read. He hadn’t expected the love scenes to be so explicit. So arousing.
His body hardened. He couldn’t help but imagine himself doing all of those things with Susan. Peeling her clothing away inch by inch and touching her pale, silky skin. Caressing her full breasts. Tweaking her taut pink nipples. Pressing his lips to hers, then sliding his tongue within to stroke and tease. Kissing a path down her neck. Drawing a hardened nipple into his mouth. Tantalizing her. Tasting her. Tasting all of her.
Heat poured into him, compounding his need as he heard Susan’s pulse quicken.
Glancing up, he again found her staring at him over her laptop. But this time her lips were parted slightly, her cheeks were flushed, and desire glinted in her pretty hazel eyes.
His body hardened even more as his pulse leapt.
“Your barriers are down,” she whispered, her gaze dropping to his mouth.
“What?” He nearly groaned when she drew her tongue across her lower lip.
“Your barriers,” she said louder, her voice husky. “They’re down.”
Which meant she had seen his thoughts and caught him fantasizing about taking her as passionately as the hero had taken the heroine in her novel. As passionately as he had taken her in their shared dream. She had felt so good as their bodies had merged. So hot and tight and—
She closed her eyes. “Stan.”
Cursing, he raised his mental barriers. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t intentional,” he muttered and brought a knee up to hide his erection. “I just didn’t expect the love scenes in your novels to be so…”
“Graphic?” she proposed, eyeing him as if she wished he would pounce. As if she wanted to feel his hands on her again, stroking her to orgasm.
And damn, he wanted to do it.
The faint rumble of an engine reached his ears.
Stanislav looked to the west, where bright light from a late-afternoon sun illuminated the blinds. Sitting up, he listened intently.
“What is it?” Susan asked.
“Someone’s coming.”
She shifted her laptop to the bedside table and looked in the same direction he had. She, too, appeared to be listening, though her hearing was not as acute as his. “It’s them,” she announced after a moment.
“You can hear their thoughts?”
“Yes.”
The fact that she could do so from this distance impressed him. “How many are there?”
“Henry and three others.”
His senses told him the same. He rose.
Her brows drew together as she swore.
“What?”
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she stood. “Henry isn’t the only moron in the bunch.” Her eyes met his, full of furious disbelief. “They definitely know about your swift healing capabilities. And they all think you’re a freaking vampire. Can you believe that?”
Yes, he could. His fear that the men might be right effectively banished his desire. “Are they coming to kill me or to capture me?” He shoved his feet into his discarded boots, then knelt to lace them up.
“Capture.” Dropping to her knees, she fished her sneakers out from under the bed and hurriedly donned them.
“For what purpose?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. They’re nervous and excited and their adrenaline is pumping, so they’re all thinking very loudly. All I can get is that they plan to capture you, chain you up in a coffin of all things, take you I-don’t-know-where, and make a ton of money off you.”
He rose. “Then here’s hoping they plan to open a cheesy backwoods carnival and think themselves the next P. T. Barnum.”
Susan huffed a laugh as she rose. “Stanislav…” Her gaze, somber once more, met and clung to his as she rested a hand on his arm and tilted her head back to stare up at him. “That facility in Texas would pay a hell of a lot to get their hands on you.”
He covered her hand with his. “I’m sure it would.” Which was why he intended to kill Henry and the others if he determined they worked for such an outfit.
If they worked for that group in particular and had come to claim Susan as well, he would make damned certain they gave him the address so he could personally ensure no one there would ever come looking for her again.
When he would’ve moved away, she tightened her hold. “Look at me.”
He did, and loathed the fear he saw in her lovely features.
“You do whatever you have to do to keep them from capturing you. Okay?”
“I intend to.” When he started to move away, she again tightened her hold on him.
“No. I don’t think you’re hearing me.”
He frowned. “Susan, I—”
“You focus on you,” she interrupted, speaking very distinctly. “You do whatever you have to do to keep them from capturing you. I don’t want you to worry about me. I don’t want you to divide your attention between disarming and disabling them and listening to keep track of whatever’s going on with me. I’ve been in your thoughts. I know you would let them take you in a heartbeat if you thought it would enable me to get away safely. But that’s bullshit.”
He opened his mouth to protest.
“That’s bullshit,” she repeated. “If whatever’s about to happen ends up going really, really wrong and they capture me, I have faith that you will hunt them down and find me.”
“Hell yes, I would.”
“But if they capture you…” She shook her head, despair entering the eyes that clung to his. “How would I ever find you? How would I free you? Where would I even begin to look for you? I couldn’t do it alone, but… who could I trust to help me? Who would eve
n know how to find you without getting the authorities involved?” She poked him in the chest. “Your memory may be gone, but those instincts you gained in the military are still there to guide you. I don’t have that, and I—”
He pulled her into a hug. “It won’t come to that,” he promised.
Her fear whipping him like a cold breeze, she wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed him tight. “You make damned sure it doesn’t.”
He pressed a kiss to her hair, then released her.
“Do not let them take you,” she ordered again.
He nodded but made no promises this time. “Arm up. They’re almost here.”
She did so without another word, her hands shaking. He admired the hell out of her for remaining by his side and making a stand like this. But he feared for her, too.
Rounding the foot of the bed, he palmed the 9mms he’d left there. The pockets on his cargo pants were already stocked with the extra magazines and a couple of boxes of ammo. He’d kept them and the weapons close ever since Susan had given them to him.
Gravel crunched in the driveway as what sounded like a truck or SUV pulled up and parked.
He looked at Susan across the bed. “Stay up here,” he whispered.
Face pale, she nodded. “Unless you need me.”
I need you safe, he thought and knew by the tightening of her lips that she had heard him. No way in hell would he let those men get their hands on her. Stay out of sight.
The only light in the room poured from a lamp near the window. Susan glanced at it, then eased over into the darkest shadows on the other side of the room. He could hear her heart pounding in her chest.
Let me ease your fear, he implored mentally.
She shook her head. You focus on you. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.
Boots thudded on the front steps.
The bastards weren’t even trying to hide their approach. They must really believe she was out of town.
Stanislav slipped from the bedroom and made his way down the stairs, avoiding every creaky board.
“You sure no alarm is gonna go off?” a gruff voice asked.
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