by Rita Herron
Claire doubled over and began to sob. “No, it’s my fault. Leave me…just let me die.”
Mark froze at the bedroom door. Claire was thrashing about as if she was fighting someone, her gulping breaths sounding agonized. What was she dreaming about? The murders? Her accident?
“No…please…I can’t see…”
He hurriedly checked through the window, but no one was there. Then a shadow moved in the distance. It might be nothing. Or it might be the killer. Part of him wanted to chase it down, but he couldn’t leave Claire alone. Not when she was crying from the depths of a nightmare.
And if he left and the killer was watching, he might come in.
“No…”
Mark catapulted forward, dropped onto the bed beside her and pulled her into his arms. “Shh, Claire, wake up, honey, it’s a dream, just a dream.” He stroked her hair and back, murmuring nonsensical words to her and cradling her in his arms, until she finally opened her eyes. Even then, she couldn’t escape the never-ending darkness that t in its clutches.
He understood all about the darkness. The nightmares that couldn’t be escaped.
“I’m here now, Claire, I’m sorry I wasn’t there before, but I’m here now.”
Another low sob ripped from deep within her throat, tearing at his insides.
“Shh, baby, let me hold you. It’s all right.”
She curled into his embrace and pressed her damp cheeks against his bare chest. He shouldn’t have taken such pleasure in the gesture, but it had been so long since he’d held a woman in his arms. And not just any woman. Claire.
There had been no one since her.
He wasn’t sure if there ever would be again.
Tightening his embrace, he swayed back and forth with her in his arms. “Tell me about your nightmare.”
She shook her head and his jaw went rigid.
“We once shared things, Claire. Our goals in life, our bodies. Can’t you share your bad dreams with me now?”
She wiped at her teary eyes, and he ached again for her. “I…was dreaming about the killer.”
But she’d been pleading to die.
“Not about your accident?”
She stiffened and started to pull away, but he held her tight. “Please talk to me, Claire. It’ll make things better.”
“No, it…nothing will help.”
Because he couldn’t erase the darkness? Just like he hadn’t been able to save Abe. “Then let me hold you tonight.”
She nodded slightly, her silence reminding him of the chasm that yawned between them, but they stretched back on the bed together. She snuggled into his arms, and he cradled her head in the crook of his shoulder, stroking her hair and murmuring soothing sounds until her body slowly relaxed. An eternity later, her breathing finally settled into the steady rhythm of sleep.
He dropped a kiss into her hair, then wound the satiny strands around his hand and wrapped his legs around hers, holding her tightly. Suddenly gaining her trust meant everything to him, even more than the case. More than his job.
Tomorrow, he would find out what he could about her accident and what had caused it. And soon he would get her to open up to him. Then maybe he could help erase her pain and make up for everything the killer had put her through.
CLAIRE WOKE, nestled inside Mark’s comforting arms, his breath tickling the top of her head. It was the first time she’d felt safe in months.
Don’t get too dependent, Claire. He won’t be around for long.
Memories of the night before, of finding the third murder victim and talking to the killer haunted her. But she hadn’t been dreaming about the killer; she’d been dreaming about the accident and losing her baby. She hadn’t said anything in her sleep, had she?
She inhaled Mark’s masculine scent and wondered if he could possibly forgive her if he knew the truth.
But why bother him with what could never be? He’d be leaving as soon as they found the Midnight Murderer.
“You’re beautiful in the morning.”
Claire startled. She hadn’t known Mark was awake. Could he read the truth on her face?
She detested being at such a disadvantage.
“I need to get ready for work.”
He caught her arm before she could slide off the bed. “Are you sure you don’t want to hide out here today? I could keep you company.”
“And how would you explain that to the feds?”
A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, a sound she had once treasured because it had been so rare. “That I was playing bodyguard.” His finger trailed down her spine, then lower, seductive. “You know I don’t mind guarding your body.”
Claire’s breath caught, the hint of desire lacing his voice automatically resurrecting her own hunger for him. Mark had always been affectionate in the morning.
But she couldn’t see his face or his eyes, so she had no idea if pity, guilt or simple proximity triggered his comment or if he truly still had feelings for her.
Then he lowered his mouth and brushed his lips across hers, tempting, teasing, stoking the simmering fire burning between them. Claire couldn’t resist. Forgetting all the reasons she shouldn’t succumb to his touch, she met his need with her own, sliding her hands up to press against his cheek. She had loved his strong jaw, the hard military set to his expression, the barely controlled passion he exuded.
Now she desperately needed to taste that passion.
His tongue danced inside her mouth while his fingers skimmed down her waist, then lower to pluck at the hem of her gown and inch beneath the thin fabric. Her skin heated to a fever pitch and she moaned, digging her hands into his hair and deepening the kiss. Then he was cupping her bottom, rolling his hips forward, tangling his legs with hers until she lay prisoner to his command.
MARK WANTED to take Claire with a fierceness that bordered on primal. One touch to her thigh, and he felt her body shimmy with want. His own sex surged hard and potent, begging for release in the sweet haven of her body.
But the telephone jangled, jarring them both from the moment. “It might be the killer,” Claire whispered.
“Calling your home phone?” Rage replaced his hunger. “It damn well better not be.”
Claire’s lip trembled as he pulled away. She started to reach for it, but he was closer. If the call was from the killer, he wanted to talk to him.
“Hello,” he said into the receiver.
“Hello, who is this?”
Mark closed his eyes and released Claire. It was Claire’s siled little sister. “Hello, Paulette.”
“Mark?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
“What the hell are you doing there?”
Paulette had never liked him, but at least in the past she had been cordial.
“I’m working with the FBI.”
“Listen, Mark, stay away from Claire,” Paulette said sharply. “The last thing she needs right now is for you to drop in, turn her life upside down, then run out on her again.”
Mark clenched his jaw. “In case you haven’t seen the news lately, your sister’s life has already been turned upside down, and not by me. I’m trying to protect her.”
“And who’s going to protect her from you?”
Her remark stabbed at his conscience. “You know a killer has been calling her.”
“That’s the reason I phoned. I want her to get out of town, to come stay with me.”
For once they agreed on something. “That’s a good idea.”
“Let me talk to her,” Claire said, reaching for the handset.
Paulette’s words echoed in Mark’s ears as he handed Claire the phone. Why was Paulette so bitter toward him? He’d proposed to Claire. It wasn’t as if Claire had missed or wanted him enough to even write to him overseas. She seemed to have gotten over him…except she had responded to him in bed a moment ago. Because she was frightened.
Did Paulette think he’d known about her vision loss? Exactly when had Claire’s accident occurred?
More question
s assaulted him—questions he would find the answers to today.
“Paulette, hey, is everything all right?” Claire slipped on her robe and headed to the kitchen for some privacy.
“You tell me. What’s he doing there?”
“Mark told you he’s with the FBI. He’s investigating the Midnight Murderer case.”
“I don’t mean that, Claire. What’s he doing at your house this early in the morning?” Paulette’s voice held derision. “You’re not sleeping with him, are you?”
Claire hesitated, remembering the way she’d almost succumbed to temptation moments ago. How could Paulette understand her needs when she had the perfect life? When she methodically planned out every moment, event and friend to her specifications and never did anything impulsive?
“Claire?”
“No, we’re not sleeping together,” she whispered, “not that it’s any of your business.”
“It is my business. I had to help pick up the pieces after he deserted you, and when you were in the hospital facing a life without sight.” Paulette sighed. “And let’s not forget the child you were carrying.”
Anger mushroomed inside her. “Mark never knew I was in the hospital.”
“For God’s sake, Claire, don’t be idiotic and defend him. He didn’t know because you wouldn’t let me call him.”
“I didn’t want him to come back because he felt sorry for me,” Claire cried.
“And you think he would have come running back?”
Claire hesitated. Had she wondered the same thing? Hadn’t she trusted his love? Maybe that had been the problem, too. Footsteps sounded behind her, and she inhaled Mark’s scent as he entered the kitchen. How much of her conversation had he overheard?
“Don’t worry, Paulette. He’s here to help catch the killer. We’re not involved.”
Mark cleared his throat behind her, and she knew he had heard her last comment. But they both needed reminding where they stood.
“I’m worried about that psycho on the loose, too,” Paulette said. “It’s bad enough you work with them, but now you have one stalking you.”
“Paulette—”
“Why won’t you come to Atlanta? I can hire someone to stay with you at my house. I have state-of-the-art security.”
Claire fumed. Paulette thought money could buy everything. “I don’t need a baby-sitter, Paulette. I may be able to help the police find this killer, and if I can, I intend to do so.”
“But I don’t want to see you hurt again, Claire, and I know Mark Steele will do that.”
“Only if I allow it,” Claire said, choosing her words carefully. “Now, I need to get dressed for work. I have patients to see.”
“Don’t go, Claire. For once in your life stop being so stubborn and independent. Come to Atlanta. Let the police handle the case.”
“I can’t do that,” Claire said, knowing Paulette would never understand. “I have to help save these women.”
“Saving them won’t bring back your baby.”
Claire bit her lip, her sister’s words hitting her like a sharp blow.
A tense silence stretched between them, then her sister finally sighed. “I’m sorry, Claire. Call me if you change your mind, and I’ll send someone to pick you up.” Paulette’s voice wobbled. “I know we don’t always see eye to eye, but I do love you.”
Claire paused, her own throat thick. Paulette meant well, but Claire had sensed her sister’s disquietude about Claire’s condition from the first moment Paulette had walked in the hospital room. Claire refused to be a burden or an embarrassment to anyone. And imperfection was considered an embarrassment to her sister just as it had been to her mother. “I love you, too, Paulette. I’ll call you later.”
She hung up and started the coffeemaker, then turned, but met the hard wall of Mark’s chest.
“She’s right, you know. Y should stay with her.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Claire said.
“Why not?”
“The last thing I want is to deal with Paulette now, Mark. End of subject.”
His hands gently cupped her arms. “Your sister hates me, doesn’t she?”
Claire sighed and fumbled with her robe. “Paulette means well. She’s just trying to protect me.”
“And she thinks I’ll hurt you?” he asked in a gruff voice.
Claire couldn’t deny the truth. “I don’t want your pity, Mark, or my sister’s.”
He captured her hand and placed it over his chest, then moved it lower. His erection surged against her, hard and pulsing full of life. “Make no mistake, Claire, my feelings for you, this need between us,” he said in a husky voice, “it has nothing to do with pity.”
Claire inhaled sharply. She could undress him right here in the kitchen, cradle his bulging sex in her hand, mount him on the floor, then slide his length inside her aching heat. They could extinguish the fire they’d started earlier, then build another one, long and slow and hot.
Mark could make her whole again… at least for a little while.
But her sister’s warning rang in her head, followed by her own declaration that he couldn’t hurt her unless she allowed it.
Seizing the curtains with what little resistance she had left and drawing them closed around her heart, she let her hand fall, then turned and darted into her bedroom for a shower. If the cost of loving Mark meant he’d find out about their lost child, then she had to walk away. To spare him the pain.
She’d face her problems alone.
AN HOUR LATER, Mark escorted Claire to her office, the tension between them palpable. He had let her escape to the shower earlier, but unfinished business lingered between them. Business and feelings that he realized they had to deal with or neither of them would be able to move on. Yet…
Could they possibly make their relationship work again? Fight the darkness together? Could she love him once more?
Did he deserve her love?
He headed to Ian Hall’s office, deciding to kill two birds with one stone. He’d question Hall as to his whereabouts the night before, then ask him what he knew about Claire’s accident and medical condition.
Hall was in a meeting, so he waited in the outer office, still troubled with Claire’s sister’s animosity toward him. He was trying to focus on the case when Hall returned and escorted him into his office.
“Agent Steele, I hope you’re here to tell me you’ve found the Midnight Murderer.”
Mark arched a brow. “Actually I came to ask if you have an alibi for last night.”
Hall’s jaw snapped tight. “I had a dinner party at my house fwo scientists we’re recruiting. There were at least twenty people there.”
“What time did the party break up?”
“The last guest left about one o’clock in the morning.”
Mark frowned. “Were Dr. Ferguson and Dr. Lassiter at the party?”
“Yes, both of them were.”
“What time did they leave?”
“I don’t remember. But you can’t honestly tell me you believe one of them is a serial killer?”
“Everyone is a suspect until they’re cleared.”
“This is preposterous,” Hall barked. “Just because CIRP had a little bad publicity doesn’t mean that everyone here is a mad scientist or a criminal.”
“I’m well aware of that.” Mark maintained a level voice. “After all, you hired Claire Kos.”
“She’s only one of the many fine doctors we have on staff. But then again, you obviously have something personal going on with her.”
“I knew Claire before.”
“Before?”
“Yes, before the accident.” He hesitated. “Did you?”
Hall shook his head. “No, I wish I had. She came here for rehab therapy. The therapist who worked with her bragged about her strength and courage, and when I found out she was a psychologist, I offered her a job.”
“Because you were attracted to her?” Mark asked.
Hall’s gaze turn
ed cutting. “I don’t like the implication.”
“Exactly when did Claire come here?”
Hall crossed his arms. “About a year ago.”
“Do you know the date of her accident?”
“You should ask Dr. Kos these questions. I hardly see how they’re relevant to the case.”
Mark fought his reaction. “I was just curious about her condition. Do you know if her eyesight can be restored?”
“I don’t discuss my employees’ personal or medical history with anyone, Agent Steele.” He steepled his hands. “And to some people, her condition wouldn’t matter.”
Mark swallowed hard. Is that what Hall thought? And Claire? That he couldn’t care for her because she was impaired? “Look, Hall, I simply want to help Claire, that’s all.”
“Then do your job and let her move on with her life.”
Hall turned to his computer, firmly dismissing him. Mark bristled as the director shut the door behind him. Hall was the second person today to warn him away from Claire.
Did Hall simply want her for himself, or had Claire somehow indicated to him that she’d be happier without Mark?
Irked, hepped out the door of the outer office, but he noticed the secretary wasn’t at her desk. She’d obviously taken a break or was on an errand, so he borrowed her computer, then clicked several keys, searching for personnel and patient files. When he located Claire’s file, he noted the day she’d arrived for therapy, her date of employment, then found a code that linked to her patient file. A second later, he skimmed the report.
Claire Kos had sustained a blow to her head in a serious automobile accident. When she regained consciousness, she’d lost her sight. Suddenly he heard footsteps approaching. Hall’s secretary was returning. He didn’t have time to read the rest of the file. But his stomach clenched when he saw the date of Claire’s accident. The report also indicated it might be possible that she regain her sight. So why hadn’t she?
The date flashed back again. Claire’s accident occurred the very day he’d left for his mission. And she hadn’t been too far from the airport.
Had she been coming to see him after all? If so, why hadn’t she contacted him afterward?