by Rita Herron
He gestured toward the items on the floor. “Let me at least stay until you have a shower. I can tackle this mess and help you clean up.”
Sydney’s troubled gaze swept the floor. “Thanks...that would be nice. I’ll go through things later and see if anything’s missing.”
He wished there was something else he could do. Short of telling her more lies.
Sydney disappeared into her bedroom and he pushed his feelings aside. He quickly put the room back in order, his body tightening with desire as he heard the shower kick on. Unwanted lusty thoughts crawled through his head—Sydney naked, her slender body glistening with moisture, rivulets of water streaming down her long legs.
You can’t do this, Cash. You can’t let her get to you. She’s a suspect in a murder case.
By the time he’d gotten his libido under control, Sydney emerged wearing a terry robe that covered her from head to toe. Unfortunately, knowing she might be naked underneath fueled his hunger again.
“Thanks for cleaning up. And for staying.” She tightened the sash around her waist and walked him to the door.
He couldn’t help himself. He reached out a hand and rubbed a strand of her wet hair between his thumb and forefinger. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay, Sydney? I won’t bother you—I’ll take the sofa.” He paused, then added, “Scout’s honor.”
Her shoulders relaxed slightly. “I’m sure. Besides, you don’t look like a Boy Scout, Collin.”
He fought a smile. “You can lock your bedroom door if you’re afraid I’ll ravage you.”
The corners of her mouth tilted upward and the magnitude of her smile struck a nerve in him that hadn’t been touched in ages. She had a rare kind of beauty that made his heart clench, made him want to wipe all the fear from her eyes and see her smile forever.
For a second she faltered, glancing back at her bedroom as if she might be tempted. Her lush lips parted slightly and her eyes darkened with a longing that he felt burn through him like fire on ice, melting away the loneliness he’d felt for the past year, igniting desires in him like a match to dry kindling.
Then her smile disappeared into shadows of fear. “They have McKenzie in custody now,” she said, breaking the spell. “I’ll be fine.”
Collin felt the loss of her trust like a hole being bored into him. Still, he wanted to protect her. “I asked Raeburn to have a car patrol your neighborhood tonight. He agreed.”
“Thanks. That makes me feel better.”
He nodded, then went out the front door and let her close it behind him.
He stood outside her cottage-style house and surveyed the neighbors’ yards, the streets, the woods beyond, searching to see if anyone lurked behind the bushes waiting to hurt her. McKenzie might be in jail, but if he hadn’t cut the brake lines of her car, someone else had. And Collin intended to find out who.
Because if he hadn’t rescued her, she would already be dead. And though he barely knew the woman, the thought of losing her scared the hell out of him.
Chapter Six
Dear God, what was happening? Sydney leaned against the door, fighting the urge to open it and run after Collin. She was so very tempted to ask him to stay, to be with her all night, to help her forget her painful marriage.
But getting involved with him, the man who’d received her husband’s eyes? She’d have to be crazy to do such a tiling.
She secured the dead bolt, stumbled away from the door and stared at the remaining mess in her living room. Collin had righted the bulk of it, but magazines and papers still littered the floor. The idea that someone had violated her privacy fueled her temper. She gathered the books and magazines into a stack, then quickly collected the papers on her desk. She would go through everything later. Right now she couldn’t think rationally enough to remember what had been on her desk, anyway.
Finally she checked all the locks on her doors and windows, then made some tea and retreated to her bedroom. The day’s events rifled through her consciousness, scraping her already fraught nerves like shards of glass ripping through silk. Collin Cash’s announcement about his transplant had made her come unglued; then she’d looked into his eyes and seen the soul of a kind man through the eyes of a deceiver.
And her brakes had been tampered with. But why?
Numbness settled in and she welcomed it, focusing on the new, soothing colors of her walls. Thank heavens she’d had Kelly help her redo the room after Doug’s death. The brass bed Doug had insisted on had become a symbol of the baby she wanted but couldn’t have, and later of the man who had once wanted her, but who rarely slept there. She’d wondered if he’d found another woman, had broached the subject a couple of times, but his anger had frightened her. He’d accused her of being paranoid. Now he was gone.
The telephone jangled and she jumped, chastising herself for her overreaction, then picked it up on the second ring.
“Hey, Sydney, it’s Kelly.” Sydney heard Megan fussing in the background and wished she could hold her, feel her chubby cheek against her own.
“Syd, are you there?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry.”
“What’s going on over there?” Kelly sounded petrified. “I saw a police car at your place earlier. Did they find Doug’s killer?”
“No,” Sydney said. “I wish they had.”
“That sergeant wasn’t bothering you again, was he?”
“Not exactly. In fact, this time I had to call him.”
“What happened?”
Sydney tugged at the collar of her robe, not anxious to relive the evening. “I had a surprise visitor when I got home from the festival.” She slumped into the armchair and wound the phone cord around her fingers while she told the story about her intruder.
“Oh, my God, he held a gun on you? Was it the same kind that killed Doug? Do you think this man was the murderer?”
“I don’t know.” Sydney kicked off her slippers. “Maybe Raeburn will find out. Anyway, he’s in custody now, so everything’s fine. But if Collin hadn’t come by, I’m not sure what would have happened.” Her earlier tremors threatened to return with the memories, but Sydney willed them away. Still, she peeked out the window to make sure no one was lurking in the yard, then closed the curtains.
“Do you want me to come over and stay with you?”
“That’s really nice, Kel, but I’ll be fine. Besides, Meg will sleep better in her crib.”
“Then you can come over here,” Kelly offered. “I’m worried about you.”
“Thanks, but I’m already settling in and Sergeant Raeburn’s having a police car patrol the neighborhood. I think I’ll go on to bed.”
Kelly relented. “Okay, but promise me you’ll call if you need anything.”
Sydney laughed softly. “I’ll put the phone right by the bed. Now kiss Meg for me. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
“All right, good night, then.”
Sydney heard Kelly croon to Megan before she hung up, and she pictured Kelly rocking the baby to sleep. Another surge of longing swelled inside her. At last, more exhausted than weepy, she shrugged off her robe, pulled on a nightshirt and climbed into bed, tugging the covers up to her chin. But she stared at the ceiling for a long time, unable to shake the feeling of danger surrounding her.
Just before she finally drifted into sleep, she remembered the way Collin had held her in his arms, and she ached for his strength to get her through the night.
COLLIN SAT IN HIS CAR for the better part of an hour with his eyes on Sydney’s house, guarding it like a watchdog. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, the way it always had when a case heated up back home.
A slight headache was starting to beat at the base of his skull and his eyes burned, two warning signs the doctor had cautioned him about. He needed sleep. But he refused to leave until the patrol car showed up.
He silently retraced the details of the visions he’d had. The person who’d shot Doug was either a small man or a woman. Which meant if the person who’d shot Doug and t
ampered with Sydney’s car wasn’t McKenzie, Sydney was still in danger.
By the time the patrol car Raeburn had promised drove up, his vision had started to blur drastically, so he was glad to call it a night. But as he drove back to the B-and-B, he wished like hell he was with Sydney. He could’t stop thinking about holding her and wiping the sadness off her face with pleasures that would keep them both awake long into the night.
Back in his room, Collin punched in the number for his friend in the Charleston police force.
“Hey, buddy, what’s up?” Sam asked, sounding groggy with sleep. “And why the hell are you calling me so late? You been partying or something?”
“Or something,” Collin said with a grin. He knew his friends had worried about how he’d handled the inactivity during his blindness.
“Sounds great, man. Using those new eyes to check out the babes?”
“Yeah, right.” Collin chuckled. “Listen, Sam, I’ve got a favor to ask.”
“Sure. Anything for you, man.”
“I need you to check out somebody. Off the record.”
Sam hesitated. “What’s going on, Collin? I thought you were on vacation.”
“I am, but I may have stumbled onto something. Anyway, there’s this woman—”
“Say no more. You want me to make sure she doesn’t have a husband who’ll hunt you down?”
“Not exactly.” Collin leaned his head back and closed his eyes, his chest tight. “You know the information you gave me after I left the hospital?”
“About the donor?”
“Yeah. Well, I came to Beaufort—”
“Jeez, man, you didn’t!” Sam tacked on an expletive and Collin held the phone away from his ear, wincing as Sam vented.
“I had to, Sam.”
“What do you think you’re doing, Cash? That information was supposed to be private. I went out on a limb to find out the donor’s name for you.”
“I know that—”
“I thought you were going to send a thank-you or donate some money to the man’s favorite charity—”
“Just shut up and listen, would you?”
Sam exhaled audibly.
Collin let the silence stretch between them until Sam said, “Okay, go on.”
“Good. I came to Beaufort planning to offer the man’s widow some money or see if I could help her out, but things are complicated.”
“Uh-oh. What does she want?”
“She doesn’t want anything,” Collin said, irritated. “But she does need my help.”
“How’s that?”
“They haven’t made an arrest in her husband’s murder.”
“And you’re working on the case,” Sam muttered.
“Look, Sam, the man’s wife was the one who found her husband. Now she’s in danger.”
“Is she a suspect?”
Collin hesitated.
“I can’t believe it, Cash. You’ve got a thing for his wife! You know better than to get personally involved in a case,” Sam bellowed. “Remember what happened with you and Tim.”
“How could I forget?” Collin sighed. His partner had been killed and he’d been blinded. “But I can’t help it this time. I am involved, Sam. The man gave me back my eyesight.” He paused as the silence stretched between them again. “But it’s not what you think,” he explained. “The woman’s still grieving for her husband. There’s nothing going on between us.”
“Yet,” Sam added, sounding annoyed.
Collin undid the buttons of his shirt and tossed it to the floor, knowing he didn’t believe it, either.
“Will you find out anything you can on Doug Green?”
“Sure. You want me to check out the wife, too?”
Collin hesitated, shucking his shoes and socks. “Not yet. But run a check on a man named Spade McKenzie. He’s a food scientist or something like that, worked with the University of South Carolina. And dig up anything you can find on a company called Norvek Pharmaceuticals and another company, Triset Pharmaceuticals.”
“Sounds like some vacation.” Sam whistled between his teeth. “She must really be good-looking. Be careful, man.
Collin gave Sam his phone number. It was more than Sydney’s drop-dead body and beautiful face that drew him to her. He couldn’t explain it, but when he’d seen McKenzie threaten her, he’d known he’d do anything to save her from harm, even if it meant jeopardizing his own life.
SYDNEY ROLLED OVER in restless slumber, nightmares of Doug’s lifeless body invading her peace. Death surrounded her, its dark, cold shape engulfing her in its nothingness. The pungent odor of blood seeped into her nostrils. She clutched at the sheets of her bed, twisting them into a frenzied knot at her sides, then shrieked when the peal of the telephone startled her awake.
Jackknifing up, she needed several seconds to realize she’d been having a nightmare. For the moment she was safe. Still, shadows hung in the room. A tiny sliver of moonlight sliced a jagged line through the curtain. She squinted at the clock—3:00 a.m. Who would be calling her now?
Her hand trembled as she reached for the receiver. It was Kelly, it had to be. Meg had probably awakened, and she might be sick. Sydney said hello and was greeted by silence, then a gush of heavy breathing. “Don’t go poking your nose into Doug’s affairs.”
Sydney lost the breath she’d been holding. “What? Who is this?”
“Let Doug rest in peace,” the muffled voice murmured again, more sinister now. “Leave it alone, Sydney.”
“Who is this?” Sydney shouted. The heavy breathing reverberated over the line again and her pulse rate climbed off the charts. “Tell me who this is. What do you know about Doug?”
“Enough. You and your friend better not stir things up,” the caller threatened with an oily laugh. “Or you’ll end up just like your husband.”
Sydney gasped, her fingers tightening around the receiver, the blood roaring in her ears. Then the phone clicked into silence. The ticking of the clock on the bedside table seemed to intensify. What if the person were waiting outside?
Panicking, she dialed the police and reported the call.
“It was probably a prank,” the female officer said. “If you’ll feel better, contact the phone company tomorrow for caller ID.”
“Will you please at least record my complaint?”
“Yes, ma’am, we always keep a record. You can call back tomorrow if you want to talk to a detective.”
Sydney agreed, then sighed in defeat and hung up. The walls felt as if they were closing in around her. Shadows danced in every corner. The distant sounds from the street seemed magnified.
She took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She wished she’d asked Collin to stay. He would keep her safe. He would hold her through the night.
The horror of the past few weeks rippled through her in waves. She lay back down, pulled up the covers and stared at the curtain fluttering in the breeze of the fan. She was safe, she reminded herself. A police car was patrolling the neighborhood.
But what if the person came for her? What if he snuck past the police car? And what if the caller had been Doug’s murderer just waiting until she was alone?
COLLIN SWALLOWED the painkillers the doctor had prescribed, used his antirejection drops and leaned against the bathroom sink, his head throbbing. He was glad he’d made the phone call to Sam, but the extra few minutes had added to the tension building behind his eyes. He was starting to feel dizzy and nauseated. He pressed a cool cloth to his forehead and closed his eyes, fighting to stand as the room spun around him, praying his body wasn’t rejecting one or both of the corneas.
The antirejection drops... Some small nugget of information nagged at his brain, and he squinted at the label on the bottle. Triset The name of the pharmaceutical company on the paper that madman McKenzie had been waving around.
Staggering toward the bed, Collin collapsed on it, kicking back the comforter with his feet. If Doug Green had been associated with Triset, it made sense he’d bec
ome a donor. But had the guy really stolen the licensing agreement from McKenzie? If so, what kind of man did that make Green?
Collin groaned and massaged his temple, the pain slightly dulling as he forced himself to relax. Tomorrow he’d call Sam and find out what he’d uncovered. But how would he feel if Green had been less than aboveboard? Probably one reason the doctors didn’t reveal the donor’s identity.
He ticked off the doctor’s orders on his fingers. The ocean water could have been damaging. And he shouldn’t have carried Sydney—he wasn’t supposed to lift anything over twenty pounds for six weeks. But damn it, he hadn’t had a choice. Surely that one time wasn’t enough to cause serious damage.
A dull, relentless ache settled behind his left eye and he groaned, willing himself not to give in to the pain, forcing himself to relax. He would go to sleep. Then he’d wake up and the headache would be gone. Sydney would be fine tonight, McKenzie was in jail, the police would do their job. Troubled, disoriented thoughts drifted in and out of his subconscious as the pain medication took effect. The shooting, the surgery, the first few moments when he’d awakened and realized he couldn’t see, might never see again.
He groaned and rolled to his side, but it made the nausea worse, so he returned to his back. The memories shuffled in and out, the darkness haunting him, the fear... being confined to his apartment for days at a time, the therapists and counselors teaching him basic coping skills, the long days of emptiness, of feeling isolated and useless...
He couldn’t lose these eyes, not again, not now. He had to find out who murdered Doug Green, who was trying to hurt Sydney....
Finally the pain medication dulled his senses and he drifted into a troubled sleep, floating somewhere between consciousness and semiconsciousness. A few minutes of peaceful bliss, of nothingness...
Then he was choking, the darkness suffocating him. He tried to open his eyes, but the room blurred and his eyes stung. It was hot, burning up, so hot he shoved at the covers. The musty smell of smoke filled his lungs. Sweat drenched his hair, his feet were melting...