“About how you ended up on the dance floor with Brad.” There was a slight edge to his tone. “And how he thought it was okay to attack you.”
“I’d rather forget about it, if you don’t mind.” The words came out sharper than intended. I wanted to put the nightmare behind me. I realized now how futile a possibility that was. I’d been trying to put nightmares of all varieties behind me for a long time.
“Is that why you didn’t turn him in? You’d rather forget about what he did to you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Aidan. Please. You were there to stop it. That’s all that matters.”
He didn’t say anything for a while. I settled into my seat, oddly comforted by the quiet. Or maybe it was Aidan. Something about him made me feel safe, which was contradictory to the way he made me feel emotionally. My stomach burned as I thought about the way he reacted to Dee’s presence, and I folded my arms around myself.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Did you kiss me the other night because you were hoping to get information out of me?”
“Why would you think that?”
I bit my lip and listened to the increasing pitter-patter of rain on the roof. A loud swooshing sound indicated the wind had picked up. “You got real cozy with Dee tonight.”
“I’m not interested in Dee,” he said, a little too harshly. He softened his tone. “I’m sorry if asking you to leave upset you, but I needed her to talk.”
“I know. You’d do anything to find your wife’s killer.”
He shifted in his seat. “Look at me,” he ordered.
I turned toward his voice.
“You’re right,” he began, “at first it was all about finding him. I wasn’t looking for justice. I wanted to rip his fucking heart out and shove it down his throat.” He slid a warm palm along my cheek, and I closed my eyes, trembling from his touch. “Somewhere along the line it became more about protecting you.” I felt him move even closer, and his breath feathered across my lips. “You have no reason to be jealous. You’re all I think about.”
His words found the bulls-eye of my heart and patched over the hurt that had lived there for so long. I opened my eyes and saw my longing mirrored in his. I couldn’t speak; I wouldn’t know what to say anyway. I did the only thing I could think of—the only thing that felt right.
I kissed him.
Our mouths fused in carnal hunger, and like a match to kindling, my body ignited. With a moan, I sank my fingers into his hair.
“C’mere,” he murmured against my lips. I climbed over the center console, even as he pulled me onto his lap to straddle him. He pushed the seat back as far as it would go. “Comfortable?”
“Yeah,” I whispered. My hair fell forward to tickle his cheeks, and I ran my palms over the stubble on his jaw as we stared at each other.
He gripped my hips, hesitated for a second, and then we were kissing again. I unraveled in his arms—was lost and spiraling into the unknown—and nothing and no one had the power to pull me back. I leaned into him until every inch of our bodies were pressed together and his heart beat to the cadence of mine. The warmth of his fingers crept underneath my shirt, searing bare skin, and every part of me came alive under his hands. There was only him—under me, enveloping me, branding the center of my being with his touch.
He broke away with a groan.
“God, Aidan, if you’re gonna hold back, kill me now.”
“No one’s dying tonight,” he said as our chests heaved together. “Though not for lack of trying on your part.” He reached up and held my face between his hands. “I’m just thinking about taking you home.”
I brought my lips to his, almost touching but not quite. “What are you waiting for?”
15. Crash and Burn
I settled into the passenger seat, my feverish skin nestling in cool leather as Aidan drove back onto the highway.
And then he touched me.
His fingers traced a path down my neck, journeyed down my arm, and found home on my thigh. His hand radiated warmth, even through the thick denim of my jeans, and I swallowed hard as the first hint of doubt threatened to ruin everything. I hadn’t been intimate with anyone . . . in a while.
“Shit!”
I jumped, and my gaze flew to his face. He was riveted to the rearview mirror. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I think we’re being followed.”
“What? Why do you think that?”
“Looks like the same headlights from earlier.” He withdrew his hand and gripped the steering wheel.
“Wait a second . . . you thought someone was tailing us?”
“Possibly. I thought someone might’ve followed us from the police station and again once we picked up my car at High Times.”
“Why didn’t you say anything? I figured you were angry and needed to let loose on the open road or something.”
“I was angry, but I didn’t want to alarm you.”
He was alarming me now. The car flew over the road, increasing speed by the second. I turned around in my seat and squinted at the headlights behind us. Whoever he was, he kept a safe distance. “Do you think it’s him?” I shivered at the thought of the Hangman stalking us.
“No,” Aidan said, pausing to focus on the rearview mirror, “it’s not his style. I don’t know who this idiot is, but I’m gonna find out.” He reached across my legs and opened the glove compartment. My jaw dropped at the sight of the gun. He handled the weapon as if he knew how to use it.
“Aidan . . . don’t!” I stared at the gun in horror. “I don’t have a good feeling about this. What if you get hurt?” Or worse.
“You don’t need to worry about me.”
Was he serious? “When you stop worrying about me, we’ve got a deal.”
“Point taken.” He pulled onto the side of the road and calmly watched as the other vehicle slowed before passing. Wondering how he could be so calm, I jumped when he jerked the car back onto the highway.
“What are you doing?” I cried, grabbing the “oh shit” handle above my window.
“Trying to see the license plate.”
“You need a gun for that?”
“Hopefully not.”
Oh, Lord.
We gained on the black sedan, and Aidan pulled up until the front fender of his car almost touched the bumper.
“Oregon plates.” He focused on the letters and numbers for a few seconds, and I figured he was committing them to memory.
The black car sped up, lengthening the distance by a few feet. Aidan slowed and spun the vehicle around. I tightened my grip on the handle as we raced in the opposite direction. His gaze darted between the road and the rearview mirror every so often, but the road behind us remained empty.
“Who do you think it was?” I asked as he put the gun back inside the glove compartment.
“I don’t have a clue, but I know someone who’ll run the plate for me. We should be able to find out in a couple of days.” He enfolded my hand in his. “You okay?”
I nodded. “Now that you’ve put the gun away, I’m great.”
He squeezed my fingers. The remainder of the drive to his house passed in silence, which gave the nervous flutters in my stomach plenty of time to resurface. He pulled into the garage and shut off the ignition, but neither of us moved.
“I’m sorry I scared you. The gun . . . it’s a precaution.”
“Is that all it is?”
His fingers flexed around mine. “You want the honest answer?”
“Always.”
“I never planned to shoot him. I’d planned much worse.”
I envisioned all sorts of scenarios. Chopped limbs, pools of blood, amputation of . . . a certain male organ. The sicko deserved that and more. Still, the thought made me ill.
“I can only imagine what you’re thinking,” he said. “I’m not a violent person. Except when I think of him, or like tonight, when I saw Brad . . .” His hand slid from mine, and I squinted against the dome light once he’d opened hi
s door. He rounded the car and helped me from the passenger side, and moments later we entered the blackened hallway. He brushed against me, so lightly I might have imagined his touch. All my senses were amplified as I sensed him reaching for the light switch.
“Leave the light off.” I didn’t second-guess myself, didn’t allow the reality of the moment to intrude. I reached for his face, thumbs grazing the roughness of his cheeks, and sought his mouth in the darkness.
Aidan’s fingers tangled in my hair, a grip of desperation that mirrored my own. He expelled a soft sigh against my lips but didn’t grant me what I wanted—his mouth on mine. “Are you cold? You’re shaking.”
“I’m not cold.”
“Scared?”
Terrified, but I’d never wanted anyone more. “Aidan . . . kiss me.”
And he did. Good Lord, did he kiss me. My mouth opened under the tantalizing press of his lips, and we stumbled a few steps until my back hit the wall. He unleashed a groan as his hands traveled south, and he gripped my ass and lifted until we became one. We locked together perfectly, like two connecting pieces to the same puzzle.
He carried me down the hall, wedged open a door, and our frenzied fingers peeled away jackets and shirts. The first touch of his skin on mine knocked the breath from my lungs. He laid me on the mattress and settled over me, and instantly, my vision filled with nothing but static as the shadow of his face distorted into a monster. Panic clawed to the surface, and where his hands caressed, my body only remembered violence; legs forced apart, hands restrained, panties ripped from my body.
I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, but I must have made some sound because he jerked away. He turned on the light an instant later.
I got up on shaky limbs and fell to the floor. “I’m sorry,” I said, hugging myself, ashamed of my half-naked state.
Averting his gaze, he crouched in front of me and held out my shirt. I quickly pulled it on, thankful for his discretion. Choppy breathing filled the room. His. Mine. The sound nearly drowned out the thunderous roar in my head—the baritone voice that had taunted me for so long. The one I thought I’d chased away.
I screwed my eyes shut and let the memories liquefy down my cheeks.
“Mackenzie, please . . . look at me.”
“I didn’t . . . I mean . . . I haven’t been with anyone since . . .” I choked out the disjointed words, and when I finally brought my eyes to his, the intensity of his expression leveled me. I didn’t deserve his empathy, not after leading him on and then freaking out on him. “It happened months ago. I thought I’d moved past it. I’m so sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.” His arm brushed mine as he settled next to me at the foot of the bed. “You don’t have to talk about it, but I’m here for you. I’m here in any way you need me.” I reached for his hand, and he silently laced our fingers together.
“I was fine, until we got to the bed.” I stared at our hands for the longest time, amazed how something as simple as handholding had the power to bring such comfort. I felt connected to him in a way I’d never experienced with anyone, not even Joe. The quiet stretched out, and I sensed him waiting, giving me the space, the freedom, to unload on him when I was ready.
“He was waiting for me when I got home.” Each word wanted to stick in my aching throat, but I forced them out anyway. I’d never talked about it—had never wanted to until now. “I don’t even know how he got in. It was dark and I was tipsy. I never drink . . . why did I do it that night? Why did I go out that night?” I relaxed my fingers, only realizing now that I was crushing his in a vise grip. “He reeked of tequila—” My voice cracked, and I couldn’t bring myself to continue.
He squeezed my hand. “You’re safe with me.”
“I know.” I hesitated, thinking of the one thing I wanted. The only thing I needed. “Will you hold me?”
He let out a breath. “God yes. C’mere.” He folded me in his arms, and I buried my face in the crook of his shoulder. His skin was warm against my cheek, his scent calmingly familiar; I’d breathed him in countless times in my dreams—now he just smelled like home.
“For months I tried to forget. When I moved here, I stopped thinking about it all the time.” I didn’t think about it at all anymore.
“Something like that is never completely forgotten.” He combed his fingers through my hair. “Who hurt you?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
But he didn’t press the issue. We sat in that position for a long time, his chest moving in rhythm with mine. I welcomed the silence—interrupted only by the soft showering of rain against the bedroom window.
There was no kissing, no shedding of clothes; it was just the two of us holding on as if the alternative was unthinkable. Time ceased to exist. We could have stayed frozen like that forever and it still wouldn’t have been long enough.
My eyes drifted shut eventually. I vaguely remembered him carrying me to bed, recalled reaching for him when he tried to leave. He settled behind me, wrapping me in the safety of his arms, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, the dreams were absent. And I slept.
* * *
I hadn’t realized how much I missed awaking in someone’s arms. The room was chilly, but there was only warmth where our bodies touched. I didn’t want to wake up yet, didn’t want the mortification of last night to encroach upon this perfectly serene moment.
“Sleep well?” Aidan’s voice, thick with sleep, sent shivers through me. Nothing had ever sounded so sexy.
I nodded. I wasn’t brave enough to meet his eyes yet. “I can’t remember the last time I slept so well.”
He trailed a hand down my spine and splayed his fingers across my lower back. “You talked in your sleep once.”
“What did I say?”
“You said ‘Joe.’”
After all these months, hurt still ricocheted at the mention of his name. “I don’t remember.”
“Is he the one . . .?”
“It wasn’t Joe.”
Aidan’s silence bothered me. I lifted my head and didn’t like what I saw. It was the same look he got when he talked about finding the Hangman.
“You can’t rid the world of every monster, Aidan.”
“Not all of them. Maybe just a couple.”
“It won’t bring her back.” I lowered my gaze, horrified by what I’d said. “I’m sorry.”
“You spend too much time apologizing.” He twirled a lock of my hair around his finger. “If anything, I’m the one who needs to apologize. I shouldn’t have let things go so far last night.”
I never thought an apology could hurt so much. “I understand. It was a crazy night, with you getting arrested and being followed”—oh God, was that my voice cracking?—“just a heat of the moment thing.”
He let out a heavy sigh and rolled us until we faced each other. “There’s heat all right, but it was more than a ‘thing.’ I’m glad we stopped because I don’t have any protection.”
“Oh.” This was beyond awkward.
“Yeah . . .” He trailed off, and I guessed the conversation was just as awkward for him. “There hasn’t been anyone since Deb. Sex hasn’t . . . really been an issue.”
Until now, or it would have been if I hadn’t freaked out on him. How I wished I could go back and change the outcome of last night.
“I’m on birth control.” So much for avoiding mortification. “Not for that reason.”
“I’m not sure you want to tell me that, considering where we are right now.”
“What if I do . . . want to tell you that?”
He opened his mouth, but then he shook his head, seemingly at war with himself. “We did the right thing. You barely know me.”
And yet here we lie . . . in bed together talking about sex. The irony didn’t escape me. How could I explain something to him that I barely understood myself? That I felt as if I’d known him for years. The way he’d held me all night, with no expectations or
ulterior motives, cemented what my heart had already figured out: I could trust him.
“I know you, Aidan.” I placed my palm on his chest, over his heart. “I’ve dreamed about you more than I want to admit.”
He grabbed my hand and laced our fingers. “Are you saying you saw me in your dreams before we met?”
“That drawing—the one showing a lot of skin?” I bowed my head to hide my embarrassment. “I sketched it over two years ago.”
“I’m not sure what to say.” He sounded stunned. “Wait. How much of me did you see?” A hint of mischief entered his tone, and I peeked up to find his mouth creeping into a smile.
“A lot.” I ached to taste his mouth again. It would be so easy—just a few inches closer and my lips would be on his.
“I think there’s an unbalance in fairness here.” He arched a brow. “I’ve only seen half of you.”
“We can fix that.”
He shook his head, and his expression hardened into the guilty mask I was beginning to recognize. “Getting involved is the last thing we should do right now. Last night, I let what I feel for you take over, but we don’t need to rush this.”
I gave him a teasing grin. “You feel something for me?”
He rolled his eyes. “Do you really have to ask?”
I suppose a part of me did. Although I’d seen plenty of him in my dreams, so much about him still remained a mystery. “What does the necklace mean to you?”
He flinched, and I thought he was about to withdraw, so his next words surprised me. “Deb gave it to me on our first anniversary, the night we decided to start a family.”
“Aidan . . .” No words would lessen his grief; anything I said would offer minuscule comfort at best.
“I buried it with her.” He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. We watched a spider crawl above our heads.
“I’ll destroy the drawing. I’m sorry I drew it.”
“No, keep it.” He flexed his fingers around mine. “I’ve learned the hard way that memories can’t be buried.”
We had that in common. I slid my hand from his and sat up, figuring we both needed a little space. “Mind if I take a shower?”
Epiphany (Legacy of Payne) Page 12