Her, he mentally projected, an edge to the command this time.
There were several whines, but then they obeyed, swirling around her and blocking her from view.
“Sean,” she said nervously.
“I’ll guide you,” he replied, knowing she couldn’t see.
Someone said, “I don’t know what happened. I just heard this loud explosion.”
“I left my room and saw . . . I think I’m gonna vomit.”
Sean kept a steady hold on Gabby and ushered her away. No one seemed to pay them any heed, lost in the chaos as they were. Still. He wasn’t convinced the two men had been the only perpetrators and that someone else hadn’t been waiting nearby in a car, ready to speed away with Gabby’s body.
Sean’s gaze swept the parking lot and landed on a man standing beside a Cadillac sedan. That man was youngish, probably late twenties, Sean’s age. Not bad looking, tall with blond hair. His eyes were covered by shades, shielding their color. One of his arms was draped over the open door, and the other was splayed over the hood. He hadn’t been there a moment ago.
He was like everyone else, taking in the scene, curious, but there was an intensity to him that the others lacked. He didn’t seem upset. There was no frown pulling at his lips. More than that, his head followed Sean.
Could be an average citizen who suspected—or had even seen—Sean’s part in all of this. If the man didn’t know Sean was an agent and had only been doing his job, he would view Sean as a murderer. But the man didn’t call out, didn’t try to chase Sean down. Just continued to watch him, studying, gauging.
Sean snaked Gabby around a corner, out of view. In the background, sirens wailed. “Did you recognize either of those men?” he asked.
“No.”
Too bad. “If I get you into my boss’s—Bill, the man who died—house, will you take a look at his computer files? He might have stored information about the doctor who messed with your head. Information he didn’t give me.”
Her eyes widened. “You think the doctor’s responsible for the men who showed up at our door? After all this time?”
“Maybe. Right now, that’s the only lead I have.”
“But why would he want to kill me now?”
“Several reasons.” None of which he should probably tell her. Fear wasn’t her friend. But the fear of not knowing, he was sure, would be worse. “His name is Dr. Fasset and now people know about you and he might want to hide the evidence of what he’s done. Or maybe wants to finish his experiment; he’s a doctor after all. Or maybe he just wants to keep you out of our hands. Anything we can learn about him will help us figure this out.”
She licked her lips and clutched her stomach. “All this time, I’ve feared being captured, tortured. Used. But I never thought someone would want me dead.”
“Maybe it’s not Dr. Fasset. Maybe whoever is hunting you doesn’t want you dead. You nailed that guy pretty hard with the tabletop. Shooting you might have been a simple reaction,” he said, voicing his earlier thoughts.
She nodded, but she didn’t look convinced.
They hit another parking lot, and he picked up the pace. He wanted out of this area ASAP. Away from the strange man by the Cadillac. Until he was better armed. Then, all bets were off.
CHAPTER EIGHT
What seemed endless hours later, Gabby perched inside Sean’s newest stolen vehicle, circling the dead Bill’s house. Sean was casing it, she knew, as well as waiting until the sun dimmed. Time ticked by slowly, dread filling her, until finally, he parked at the far end of the street. Shadows were thickest there, lying patiently under a grove of oak trees. Plus, they could still see the house and those around it. All remained calm in the affluent suburb, most of the home owners still at work. But they could return at any moment.
“You ready for this?” Sean asked, glancing over at her.
She nodded unenthusiastically. Her years on the streets, B and E had been her specialty. No home had been safe. She’d learned the best times to snatch and grab, the best times to go in easy and linger. She’d learned the signs of a nosey neighbor and what to avoid. Usually she’d just stolen food and clothing, knowing she couldn’t live with the guilt of taking something that held sentimental value. But sometimes, when things were particularly tough, she would take something easy to pawn.
Not that she’d broken into someone’s home in years. The day she’d been deemed old enough to waitress had been a relief.
“Hey. You okay?” Sean asked.
You’re not stealing anything this time. Just gathering information. You can do this. “Yes,” she said. “Just . . . bad memories sneaking up on me.”
A slow grin lifted Sean’s lips.
“What?” Her reply hadn’t been funny. Had it?
“It’s just, the first time I met you, getting any answer besides ‘yes’ or ‘no’ from you was impossible. Now you explained something and I didn’t have to beg for it. Could it be you’re starting to, I don’t know, like me?” His grin became megawatt.
Though she was panicking inside—she couldn’t like him—she rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“So what bad memories were troubling you?”
“Do you really want to talk about that now?” There. He hadn’t gotten any information out of her.
“Why not? I want to wait at least an hour before going in the house.”
An hour? Alone with Sean? The man she’d slept with last night? The man she’d snuggled with and breathed in and dreamed about and still craved this morning when she’d woken up, upset to find herself alone?
“Why? Was he married? Is his wife still in the house?”
“Nah. Nothing like that. The longer we wait, the darker it will be. Besides, Bill was as single as the rest of us. The job kind of does that to you, keeps you from forming anything lasting. I mean, it’s not like we can tell a date what we do.”
“Well, you can tell other agents.”
“But they work the same insane hours, leaving hardly any time for play.”
“And you expect me to sign on happily for the same kind of life?”
“Like your life is any different now,” he said dryly. “Aren’t you the one who told me you like temporary men?”
Good point.
“So . . . have you ever wanted anything more?” he asked.
Yes. “No.” Maybe. With him. Stupid.
There was a long pause. Whether he believed her, she didn’t know.
“Have you?” she asked, and damn, she’d sounded almost . . . jealous.
He leaned against his headrest and stared up at the roof. “A few weeks ago, I would have said no. Then, I met you. Does that mean I want something permanent? No. But more than temporary? Hell, yes.”
“You don’t know me,” she said, because she didn’t want to believe him. Didn’t want to soften even more toward him than she already had.
“I know more than you think, Gabby.”
“Oh, really?” Her palms began to sweat. If any man could see into the heart of her, she feared it was this one. “Prove it.”
Only the barest pause. “You like kids and give what little money you have to any you encounter. You probably see yourself in them. You guard your thoughts and your feelings, because you’ve learned you can only rely on yourself. You don’t dream anymore or expect more for yourself because you don’t think dreams can come true and you’ve had enough disappointment in your life already. But sometimes . . . sometimes you can’t help yourself. Sometimes you want; you hunger.”
Her mouth fell open, snapped closed.
His gaze met hers, hard, determined. “I will win your trust, Gabby. Whatever it takes.”
A lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed. “Good luck with that.”
“We’ll see. Anyway, to change the subject, if we had a tracker, we’ve ditched it,” he said, his tone now unreadable. He acted as if he hadn’t just rocked her entire world off its axis. “I made sure we weren’t followed. But I told Rowan wh
at I planned to do—that’s what I was doing when you were attacked—and I don’t know if anyone was listening in and now thinks to ambush me.”
This was good. This was business. This she could handle without wanting to throw herself into his arms, bury her head into his neck, and cling. “I’ve asked before and you assured me he wasn’t, but I think you need to consider the possibility that Rowan—”
“No.” Sean gave an emphatic shake of his head. “I trust him completely.”
Wow. To trust someone like that, without any hesitation, without any doubt, would be . . . wonderful, she realized. Foolish, but wonderful. She’d never relied on anyone like that. Well, not true. Her parents. She’d trusted and loved them—and they’d died and left her to her aunt and uncle when they would have been better off leaving her to the state.
If her parents had really loved her, they would have made sure she was properly taken care of in case the worst happened. Which it had. Right? That’s what love was. Taking care of someone, no matter what.
The way Sean’s taking care of you now?
No, she almost said aloud. He was taking care of her, yes, but it wasn’t because he loved her and wanted the best for her. Does that mean I want something permanent? No, he’d said. He was doing his job. Still, a shiver left a trail of goose bumps all over her body. To be loved by him . . .
Stupid, she thought again. She shouldn’t want him like this. She’d had him. His taste and feel were no longer a mystery. She should be able to shove him to the back of her mind, use him to stay alive as he’d planned to use her, and then forget about him. Instead, she only wanted him more. Wanted more of that heated touch. More of that hot, wet tongue. More of that raspy voice telling her how beautiful she was, how sweet she tasted, how anything she wanted done to her would be done.
“You like me; admit it,” he said, turning in his seat to stare out at the homes. His intense gaze missed nothing, she was sure.
“Your subject change didn’t last long. And anyway, I don’t know anything about you. Anything true, that is. You told me Sean is your real name, but I don’t see how it can be. You’re an undercover agent.”
“There’s no record of me anywhere, so I can use my real name with no worry of exposure. You can even shout it out in pleasure. Oh, wait. You’ve already done that. As for getting to know me, I’m—”
“I never said I wanted to know you,” she said, cutting him off. The more she knew, the harder it would be to distance herself from him.
“I’m thirty-five years old,” he said anyway. “I’ve never been married, I have a secret obsession for Twix candy bars, not that I’ve let myself indulge lately, and my favorite color is now brown. Gold, really, or maybe you call your eyes amber.”
She gulped. Damn him. He kept doing that, and men just didn’t say things like that to her. Not usually. Especially men who’d already gotten her into bed. Not that there’d been legions. Those she had allowed in her bed she’d wanted more for companionship and warmth than anything else. To feel normal, for once. To pretend they were happy and had forever. Not all of them had been concerned with her pleasure. And yet leaving each one of them had been tough.
How much tougher would it be with Sean?
“Your eyes,” Sean prompted.
“I call them brown.” It was the only thing she could think to say. And had her voice really been that breathless?
“As for the more meaningful stuff,” he continued, “I was raised by my dad. My mom was never part of my life. Dad was very strict, very demanding, and very intolerant. He had to be, I guess, or I might have given over to my dark side.”
“The shadows?” You don’t want to know, remember?
He nodded.
“Do they want you to do bad things or something?” There you go again.
Oh, shut up, she told herself.
“Nothing like that. They just want me with them. Always. And sometimes I want to be with them. The only problem is, shadows are naturally hungry. Because they are cold, they crave people, body heat. They want to wrap around those near them so inexorably, light can never enter, and that tends to drive people insane.”
He’d said the last with a quick peek in her direction. To judge her reaction? Did he hope to frighten her? “I’ve lived my entire life in the dark. That doesn’t scare me.” And, too, being lost in the dark with Sean didn’t seem like such a bad thing. The things they could do to each other . . .
Stupid, she thought. Yet again.
He grinned. “Good to know.”
“That doesn’t mean I like you,” she rushed out.
His grin didn’t waver as the garage door to the house next to Bill’s suddenly opened. Out came a black Lexus. The driver, a man who looked to be in his late forties, with round cheeks and a shadow of beard stubble, was at the wheel. He held a cell phone in one hand and worked the steering wheel with the other.
Silence reigned until the car disappeared down the street. Gabby realized her heart had sped up and was slamming against her ribs, about to crack them. He’d been there all along. What if she and Sean hadn’t waited? What if they’d been spotted?
“So we know no one was inside his house, holding a gun to his head and peeking out the windows,” Sean said. Then, without giving her time to reply, he resumed their previous conversation. “So what did little Gabby want to be when she grew up?”
Not what she’d become, that was for sure. “A stripper. Aren’t you concerned about the guy?”
“No. And the truth, please. I’ve realized I like it.”
And what Sean liked . . . “Fine. I wanted to be a ballet dancer. I’d taken lessons and everything.” Those lessons had stopped after her parents died, of course. Her uncle had deemed the expense frivolous.
“That explains the way you move,” Sean said huskily. “Graceful, as if you’re walking on clouds.”
“Thank you.” Her skin heated with pleasure, and she frowned. The man was good, seducing her without touching her. “Now shut up. I need some me time.”
He laughed. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. God, she loved that. They sat in silence for an eternity, both of them watching the neighborhood for any sign of activity. Nothing changed. Everything remained calm. Finally, Sean was satisfied that they were safe and happy with the dimming light.
“Let’s do this,” he said, and exited the car.
Now trembling, she followed suit. Part of her expected to be shot without the car to shield her. As if someone had been lying in wait for this very moment. She stood very still, limbs heavy, nibbling on her bottom lip. Soon a throb began in her temples, and she grimaced.
“None of that,” Sean said, and shadows danced their way toward her. Enveloped her, cool and welcome, but cutting her off from the rest of the world. “I don’t want you scared.”
Because of the others, she recalled. The ones like her—the ones who had self-destructed and died. Again, that only increased her fear.
“I’ll take care of you, Midnight Lynn. That’s your new stripper name, by the way.” He stepped into the darkness, becoming her everything. “Come on. We’re safe. No one can see us.” Down the sidewalk and around cars they maneuvered.
Gabby relaxed a bit and maintained a firm grip on the waist of his jeans, careful not to touch the gun he had stored there. “Do people not notice the big black blob floating along the street?”
“To them, it’s like a cloud. A gloomy mist or fog. The human eye is funny that way. It sees what it wants, what it understands.”
They must have reached Bill’s house, because Sean stopped. He withdrew a black velvet pouch from his back pocket, unrolled it, and pinched a silver pin. He worked the knob for several minutes.
“Might be easier to unlatch the back door,” she said. “Those locks are never as good.”
He chuckled. “Done this before, I take it?”
Because there was no judgment in his voice, she answered honestly. “A few times.”
“An agent’s
home is a little different from the average American’s. Guess we’re just more paranoid. Every door and window is hooked to an alarm. The one on the front door is less sensitive because it’s used the most and even agents like to have people over. Guaranteed there’s a trap set at the back door and all the windows.”
“Oh.” Thank God she’d never tried to break into an agent’s home, then. She would have been toast.
“We’ll only have a few minutes once I open the door, so be ready to download.”
“Okay.”
A moment later, hinges squeaked as the door swung open. Sean already had his gun palmed and pointed ahead. “Damn,” he said. “The alarm should have gone off. They’ve already been here, then.”
“The bad guys?”
“Rose Briar.” He moved inside, dragging her with him, and shut the door behind her. Only then did the shadows around her dissipate.
The home was empty, not a single piece of furniture remaining.
“Wow. They work fast.” The man had only died last night.
“They have to,” Sean said darkly. “I was just hoping we’d beat them to it.”
“Maybe Rowan can get—”
Sean was shaking his head. “Nope. He isn’t high enough up to confiscate Bill’s computers.”
“Let’s at least look around.” Wasted trips, how she hated them.
Sighing, she strolled through the house. The ceilings were vaulted, the floor comprised of polished wood. The walls were differing shades of beige, a few places scuffed where movers had hastily carted everything away.
There was a fireplace in the living room, the kind she’d always wanted for herself. So many times she’d imagined owning a place like this, curling in front of the crackling hearth with a blanket and a book, nothing to worry about as she sipped hot cocoa.
“So what do you want—” Gabby pressed her lips together as a low-watt vibe drifted through her mind, waking up nerve endings she usually hated. “There’s a computer somewhere in the house.”
“They wouldn’t have left something like that behind.”
Not purposefully, but there was a computer here. Determined, Gabby marched forward. The farther away she was from the living room, the less she felt the vibe. So she turned and marched the other way, out of the living room and down another hall. The vibe grew stronger.
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