by Incy Black
He’d taken a shower as well, in the guest bath. It was obvious they’d both tried to wash away what had happened. Judging from his expression, all stony and tight, it hadn’t worked for him any more than it had for her.
The silence between them spoke volumes. For once she didn’t try to break it.
By now he’d have worked out the incident in her kitchen had been a play. A tactic to distract and chase him away. He’d give himself a hard time for falling for it. Her, he’d send to the emotional freezer where she’d remain locked until he forgave her. Which would be never.
She considered apologizing but knew it would be futile. Nick in unforgiving mode was selectively deaf. Complete honesty wouldn’t move him. Any admission that from the split second he’d taken control, she fallen in love with him all over again, hard and fast as the sex itself, would be met with derision. It would be the “again” that would do it. He’d never believed her the first time round. Never believed that from the first time she’d laid eyes on him, she’d decided if no one else wanted them and most likely never would, they’d belong to each other. Forever.
God, her whole body ached at what she’d lost. He hated liars, anyone who dared betray his trust even more, and she was both. She’d deceived and betrayed him, used intimacy—about the only thing that had always been sacredly honest between them—as her tool.
She doubted her future held carefree flippancy now. Oh, fun and laughter hovered on the horizon—she was having a baby wasn’t she?—but she’d be sharing it alone. The one man who mattered to her, the only one she’d want to share herself and the future with, would be long gone.
The taint of helplessness sickened her, clouded her concentration, and caused her to stumble. Her recovery was as abrupt as the return of her resolve. This wasn’t about her. This was about her baby and Nick. She had a responsibility to protect them both, no matter what the personal cost.
For the immediate future, the baby was safe. She was confident Antila would see to that. But Nick? She’d have to talk to Antila, somehow persuade him of the advantages to having her ex around. For a start, Nick would provide a second safeguard against the psycho who was threatening her child. With Nick close, she’d also have a front-row seat on how the police investigation was progressing, information that could prove useful to Antila.
She’d be manipulating Nick again, but at least he’d be alive—hating her, but alive. She could live with that.
She really didn’t have a choice.
Chapter Eight
Funny, Anna had known Nick most of her life and would never have described him as restless or a fidget; he was too damned self-controlled. But an hour into sharing office space with him, and she was ready to make a grab for his gun. To shoot him. To shoot herself. It didn’t much matter.
When he wasn’t stabbing at the keyboard and muttering furiously, he was forever striding across to the vast interactive screen and with frustrated waves of his arms, sorting the splayed card deck of files it displayed.
“That’s it. I can’t work like this. You’ll have to move into the studio with the others,” Anna insisted, throwing her mouse aside.
“Nope. This information is sensitive, confidential, and hardly makes for comfortable public viewing.”
Unbidden her gaze flew to the screen. He flicked his wrist and quickly closed a series of highly colored slides. But he wasn’t quick enough.
Anna screwed her eyes tight shut, refusing to believe what she’d seen. Her gynecologist had endured savage torture. The scattering of grotesque images laid bare the agony he had suffered.
She was vaguely aware of Nick muttering, “Fuck, you weren’t supposed to see those pictures.”
But she had seen them. A foul reminder of what would happen to anyone unlucky enough to become embroiled in her messy life. Two people were already dead. There was every chance Nick would be next. And her baby, if she was having a girl. Antila had made it clear he only wanted a son.
She swallowed past the flint chips in her throat, opened her eyes, but avoided the eerie blue glow of the now-blank screen. Just in case. “Fine, then use the spare bedroom across the way as your office.”
“Can’t. I don’t trust you, so as a precaution, we get to stay within ten yards of each other at all times. That’s how it works.”
She pushed away from her desk and stood up. “Not for me it doesn’t. I will not be hemmed in, especially by you. It’s like lying down next to a starving tiger and hoping for the best. I need space, freedom. I can’t design the next level of the game and contrive the necessary traps and puzzles with you constantly interfering with my creative process. You’re stifling my imagination and my ability to think, and I’m behind schedule as it is.”
“So help me out with a name, and I’ll walk. Who’s the father, Anna?”
God, she hated when he smiled like that, innocent and murderous at the same time. And no way was she revealing Antila’s identity. He’d taken a shot at Nick, and next time he wouldn’t miss. Damn it, she had to get hold of him. Explain why Nick had moved in. “What if I need to make some private calls?”
“I’ll step into the corridor. Just don’t expect them to be private.”
“You mean you’ve tapped my phone lines?”
He shrugged, then scoured his face with his hand before dropping his arm to his side. “Not yet, but I’m working on it. What happened to your doctor will help speed up the permission I need. It should be through by the end of today. If you’ve nothing to hide, you’ve nothing to worry about. This isn’t about protection anymore, Anna. This is a murder investigation.”
She leaned forward across her desk and jabbed a finger in his direction. “And you’re professionally compromised because of the personal connection between us. So do us both a favor and assign someone else, someone you trust, because we both know the Service has more leaks than a sieve at sea. Besides, this is breaking every goddamn rule and protocol you put in place.”
For a moment he stared at her finger as if daring her to try jabbing it just one more time. With a dry swallow, she lowered her hand. Then, annoyed that he could intimidate her so easily, she stood and moved round to the front of her desk. She casually hitched her hip against its edge so he wouldn’t think he’d won.
“True, but as I’m on temporary leave because of this”—Nick gestured to his side where the bullet had grazed him—“I’m on my own time, and I intend to drive you crazy until you give me what I want. All I have to do is tighten my hold on you and keep squeezing until you go nuts from the lack of freedom. Shouldn’t take long, knowing you.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” she muttered to herself.
“Hope that’s not a challenge, Anna.”
Bugger. She’d forgotten he had the hearing of a hare. She shook her head in hot denial as he got to his feet and strode toward her. He settled himself on the edge of her desk beside her. “Okay, so let’s review what we do know.”
Like a maestro conducting sweet music from an orchestra, he flicked and waved his hands at the huge interactive screen he positioned at the far side of her office. Multiple file icons flashed up before him. In a series of wrist twists and rapid finger stabs, he opened one after the other, selecting the text he needed. As if by some devilry, the software chewed through the data, blacked out for a second, and then opened to reveal a brightly colored graph.
She couldn’t help but watch in lustful awe. Interactive technology was a thing of beauty, particularly when made to dance by hands as strong and confident as his. Tanned artistic hands, long clever fingers… Hell, he hadn’t even touched her, and her skin tingled. She scrubbed at her cheeks to hide the embarrassing glow she just knew had tinted them pink.
“I’ve plotted a timeline from when all this started. Gifts are in red, threats in blue. Notice anything?”
Only that the clock was ticking down, and she had to get rid of Nick before placing a call to Antila. She furrowed her brow and pretended to assess the constellation of dots. Of course she s
potted a pattern, but no way was she sharing that with Nick. “There’s no obvious pattern aside from starting roughly around the same time.”
“Hmm. Notice how the intervals between the blue dots have shortened while the red have all but trailed away. That means one of your admirers has become more desperate and is accelerating while the other, the one sending gifts, appears to have lost interest.”
“Oh, goody,” she muttered drily. The problem was Antila hadn’t lost interest; he never would. Not in his son. He’d just shifted his attention to neutralizing the other threat against her until the birth. “What’s the green dot stand for?”
“The attack on me, seemingly random, but I bet you anything you like it’s connected.” He shifted closer, brushing his thigh against hers.
She swallowed thickly. Dug her nails into her palms. They couldn’t risk physical contact. Had he already forgotten what had happened in her kitchen?
“Ready to get what you know off your chest yet, Anna?”
Dear God, he had to be able to hear the beat of her heart; it was all but deafening her. “Has it occurred to you that while you’re dickering about with pretty colored dots, Mr. Blue is probably out there building up a head of steam, and I for one, don’t want to be around when he blows. So why aren’t you out there looking for him?”
She’d aimed for bitchy, but knew she’d missed by a mile.
“He’s not going to get anywhere near you. I give you my word.”
Oh, God. She could handle angry Nick, but concerned, protective Nick was another matter. One more husky promise from him and she’d fold; the temptation to lean into him would be too great.
“But I can only help if you let me, Anna.”
If he pressed his thigh any tighter against her, she’d slide off the bloody desk. “No, you can’t help me. You never could.” She realized the minute the words left her mouth she’d offended him. And he had an extremely thick skin.
“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said softly.
Her skin shrunk a few sizes. She wanted him angry and gone, not wounded. He’d once been her best friend. She’d once loved him enough to protect him from hurt. Still did. She wasn’t worried about him hearing her heart beat any more. The stupid thing had ceased to pump. No doubt as shocked by that unwelcome little revelation as she. She couldn’t possibly still be in love with Nick. She’d barely survived the last time. “This isn’t about you, Nick,” she said quietly. “Not directly.”
“Someone tried to kill me because of you. I’d say that was fairly direct.”
“You don’t know that. It could have been anyone. God knows, you’ve pissed off enough of the wrong type of people. Even some of your own men. But if you’re worried, take yourself out of the equation. I can fix this if you just trust me and butt out.”
She needed him gone. And not just because of Antila and his threats. The old stirring was back. The zinging of her skin. The quick flow of blood. The itch to touch and stroke. The refusal of her lungs to function properly. The fist around her heart. The scouring pain in her chest that she’d lose him. Loving Nick had never been easy. Too many conflicting emotions. Pleasure and pain in equal measure.
She swiped the moisture pooling in her palms against her silk-skirted thighs.
He lifted his hands and in a series of wild weaves closed down the timeline they’d been discussing and opened the horror file. Bloody, tortured images filled the interactive screen. “Stop taking potshots at the Service. I weeded out those who couldn’t be trusted. Now take a good, long look at what they did to Adam Western, Anna. Imagine the pain he suffered. Imagine his fear. And now try and envisage yourself in the hands of the person who did that to him. Still want to handle this on your own?”
She screwed her eyes closed. “Shut it down. It’s ghastly…cruel.”
“Yes, it is. It’s grotesque. And next time that could be you.”
“I’ve nothing to say,” she repeated stubbornly. Nick could so easily end up like Western. Antila didn’t just kill those who defied him, he tortured them first. And he’d undoubtedly do the same to Nick if he stood in the man’s way. To save Nick, she’d have to keep the two of them apart until she somehow bargained them all out of danger. Nausea swirled in her stomach. She pressed her hand against her midriff to keep it at bay.
“Silence won’t save you this time, Anna.”
Stubborn, impossible man. He hated loose ends. He was a man who needed answers. That’s what made him such an outstanding investigator and menacing interrogator.
“Always worth a shot, though I admit it didn’t save me last time,” she tossed back. She probably shouldn’t have brought up their breakup, but she couldn’t help herself. With his body close enough for her to feel the heat he was throwing, the memory of what his temper has cost them loosened the guard on her tongue.
“It might have done if you’d said one word in your own defense,” he said on the back of a sigh. Deep enough to suggest he’d revisited that horrendous night as often as she had, and still hadn’t figured out what the hell had happened—where in their relationship they’d gone so wrong. “Damn it,” he continued quietly, “I accused you of having an affair. The very least you could have done was refute it.”
He was blaming her? “You didn’t give me a chance.”
Her desk groaned. Alarmed that it might be buckling under their combined weight, she glanced down. Nick’s fingers curled around the lip of cherry-red resin surface. So tightly, his knuckles glowed bluish white and she was ready to bet his palm would leave an indentation.
“I’m giving you one now.”
“Why?”
He turned to look at her, a sad smile not quite tipping the corners of his lips. “Because the sleepless nights are killing me.”
And he was killing her. Nick was strong, resilient, a survivor. He moved on, needing no one. So why did he sound so…so…alone?
She nibbled her lip. How would he react if she just curled into him and sobbed her heart out? Not for herself. For him.
Then her eyes flicked to the grotesque images on the screen. Nick could end up like that, her mind screamed. “I’ve nothing to say,” she reiterated, wrapping her arms across her body in a vain attempt to hold herself together. She wished she had a rank and serial number she could recite.
“Why the hell do you always hide from the truth, Anna?” he asked wearily, arcing his palm to the left and sweeping the hideous graphics off the screen. “Two maniacs are after you and your baby. Why won’t you take all the help you can get?”
His disappointment—in her—pierced deep; she’d have preferred raw anger. At least she could have blazed back. But instead, he seemed strangely defeated, and she hated that she’d done that to him.
“Or don’t you care about the baby?” he asked.
She couldn’t respond. His accusation had driven all breathe from her body.
“You can’t use a kid like that,” he continued. “You can’t force someone to love you, Anna, to fill in the empty places from our past. That’s dream territory, though admittedly you’ve built a fairly good life for yourself on fantasies.”
She dampened the flames licking at her soul—she had to contain the bitter fury building inside her. God knew what would spill from her mouth if she didn’t. “This baby means everything to me. Having it, loving it, will be the happy-ever-after you denied me.”
“I don’t believe in happy-ever-afters. Care to hazard a guess why not?”
Unfair! He’d played his part in the debacle that had ended their marriage. He was so damaged by his past, so damn distrusting of anyone getting close enough to hurt him, he’d chucked her out rather than listen to anything she had to say. And if only he had listened, their marriage might have survived. She’d loved him enough to forgive his hateful accusation. He hadn’t loved her at all. Not if he could just walk away, forgetting the promise he’d made to always be there for her.
Her temper reared. This time she couldn’t stop it. “If I’d betray
ed you by having an affair, believe me, I wouldn’t have denied it. I’d have been grateful that you’d noticed. Even when you were home, you retreated into yourself, refused to share what was going on in your life, made it clear that it was territory angels should fear to tread. But I dared. I pushed and I probed, and I refused to give up, and that’s what got to you.” She crossed to a line of shelves. Bypassed the books propped upright with a bonsai. She was fond of them and the little tree. The baccarat paperweight would do.
She palmed the glass orb, ready to throw it to punctuate her point, but when she looked back at him, he’d taken to studying his shoes as if they were some lost artifact. Possibly to tune her out, but maybe, just maybe, because she’d struck a chord in him.
She lowered her arm and set the ornament aside. “I wasn’t looking to be important. I’d have settled for remotely significant, but you wouldn’t even give me that.” She hated the catch in her voice, the moisture burning her eyes.
“Excellent, we can agree on something. We were incompatible.”
Arms folded tight across her chest, she spun on her heel to face him. “Except in bed.”
He shot her an exasperated look. “Shock tactics don’t work on me. You made me immune. Why do you always have to bring it back to sex?”
She could practically smell cordite in the air. She laughed without mirth. “Because that’s all you ever gave me, Nick. Just like this morning.”
“I didn’t hear you complaining.”
“You have a great body, and you know how to use it, but was that ever enough? Hell, no. What I wanted was an emotional connection. The physical I could have got on any street corner.”
“As you demonstrated.” His laughter was every bit as bitter as her own.
“You can say it out loud as often as you like, Nick, but it still won’t make it true.”
“Okay, then tell me. Tell me where you were. Explain to me what happened that night.”