by Meg Ripley
But was that the end of it then? Was Sarah safe because there was no one to hurt with her death?
The shocking truth of that hit me hard, much harder than I’d expected. Sarah had no family. Aside from my own who thought fondly of her, she had no parents, no siblings…no one who would mourn her if she was gone.
I would. The thought came to me unbidden, but I chalked it up as pity. Who wouldn’t feel bad for a girl who had no family to miss her?
Still, was it safe to assume Cane was finished? No. I didn’t even need to give it a second thought. Erik had been responsible for the death or incarceration of three of Cane’s brothers, two uncles and a handful of cousins. My gut told me this wasn’t the end of it.
Alright. So, I had no idea where Cane was, nothing but a few grainy photographs to figure out what the guy looked like, and some notes about business interests and family connections. Well, in the past I’d been given far less to work with and managed just fine.
I checked over the house once more, making sure I hadn’t missed anything and that all signs I’d been there had been cleaned up. Aside from the file folder in the floor, I’d come up with a handful of letters, pictures and other things that would be best if Sarah didn’t find. I was erasing all evidence of who she really was; I knew that. But then, more than ever, it was best she knew as little as possible, at least until I could figure out where to go from there.
I stopped by the hospital on my way back to the motel, though I kept my presence there discreet. I just wanted to see with my own eyes that she was alright, though the chances of Dominic Cane waltzing into the ER and shooting her point-blank was unlikely, at best. I spotted her quickly, and while I should have just turned and left the way I’d come in, I stood there for a moment, watching her. She was stitching up a patient’s arm, talking soothingly to him while her hands moved quickly and confidently.
Just then, I saw those same hands in my mind’s eye moving in a very different way, slowly, tantalizingly over her own body like she’d done to tease me the night before. Fuck. I turned around hastily and fled, not caring if she happened to spot my retreating form. This was going to have to be the fastest job I’d ever done because there was no way in hell I was sticking around for long.
Chapter Six
Sarah
“I come bearing dinner,” Declan greeted as I opened the door, thrusting a large, brown paper bag into my unsuspecting arms.
I’d been quite certain by his demeanor this morning that he was ready to make a beeline out of town, so why was he standing on my front porch? Could my senses have been that off? It was possible, but I’d made my peace with his leaving; at least, I’d thought I had.
I wasn’t going to overanalyze the fact that something fluttered inside me when I found him standing there. And I certainly wasn’t going to consider the irrational possibility that he’d come back because he realized he wanted more than just mind-bending sex.
“Thanks, but what brings you here?”
He nodded to the bag I held in my hands. “I thought you might be hungry, so I picked up something for dinner. I was hoping you’d provide dessert, though,” he added suggestively, stepping inside and making me take a step back.
Okay, so he was just back for another round. Was I alright with that?
I mentally shrugged. I suppose I’d have to be, given the way every fiber of my body had sprung to life at the sight of him. It was a weakness I was fast realizing I would forever fall helpless to. It had been ingrained in me at a young age with an infatuation that had lasted far longer than I’d thought.
“Fine, but you’re on dish duty.”
“I’ve got that covered, too,” he said, rummaging through the top of the bag, pulling out paper plates.
I rolled my eyes, but turned and started toward the dining room. I carefully avoided glancing down the hall to the bedrooms and office, hoping that by sheer will I could keep him from looking that way, too.
With nothing else to occupy me, and needing some form of distraction, I’d started in my father’s office, taking down files, sorting through boxes and cleaning off every shelf in the room. There had to be answers somewhere, but I’d yet to find them in all my rummaging.
I really didn’t feel like explaining myself to Declan. It still stung that he’d known about my father and I hadn’t. I wouldn’t have been any the wiser if I hadn’t overheard the private conversation between him and his mother.
“Redecorating?”
I cringed. So much for sheer will. But still, it was none of his business.
“I guess you could say that,” I answered vaguely, continuing to the dining table and placing the bag down without a backward glance. Hopefully, that put an end to the conversation. He seemed to take the hint because he said nothing else about the hallway disaster as he placed the plates down and started pulling containers from the bag.
We ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, though I doubted it escaped his attention any more than mine that the air between us seemed to crackle with sexual energy. It hadn’t even been twelve hours since I’d last felt him deep inside me, but it felt like much longer, as if we’d been delaying an inevitable coupling for days or weeks—not hours.
“Did you have any luck finding what you were looking for, Sarah?”
Not the question I’d been expecting. Apparently, he hadn’t taken the hint after all. “No, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll have to clean up all the stuff in there eventually anyway,” I tried to brush off the subject again.
He sat there silently for a moment, his gaze peering into mine, though I couldn’t have read his thoughts if my life had depended on it. Suddenly, this Declan seemed different. Still the same in many ways, there was an alertness that hadn’t been there that morning, as if he was trying to interpret everything that was said—and everything that wasn’t.
“Well, you’ve got a spare set of hands at the moment. Why don’t I help you clean it up?”
“That’s really not necessary.”
“If I go stumbling through that hall in the middle of night, I’m liable to wipe out flat on my ass.” He’d already stood up, and dumping the plate in the trash, he started back the way he’d come and down the hall to the monstrous disaster.
When exactly had Declan Ross become a neat freak? And more importantly, he planned on staying the night? Again?
Chapter Seven
Sarah
I opened my eyes to the sun just barely peeking out above the horizon. I hadn’t set my alarm since I had a rare afternoon shift that day, but apparently, my body was well accustomed to waking long before the sun was high enough in the sky to shine its rays through my open window.
I’d been tempted to fall back to sleep, but if I’d stayed awake, I’d have hours to indulge in carnal delights before I even needed to start getting ready for work.
Hmmm, maybe I should consider a permanent switch to the afternoon shift, I thought as I rolled toward the other side of the bed, thinking to take advantage of every moment.
Once again, my hand fell onto the cold mattress instead of the hard, warm body I’d been expecting. Disappointment surged, but I brushed it away quickly. There might not be as much time available as I would have liked by the time Declan came back, but he’d be back.
When exactly had I come to expect him to be there? Nevertheless, it was true, I realized. More than three weeks had passed since Declan had come back to Westport, and though we’d never talked about a relationship, I’d begun to think of us that way. He’d said he wanted nothing more than sex, but then he’d come back, and he’d come back again…and again. It had only been a few weeks, but I’d come to anticipate him there after work, and if he wasn’t there in the morning, I knew it wouldn’t be long before he returned.
So quickly it had become strange to find the house so quiet. Declan was just as much of an early riser as I was, perhaps more so, so it wasn’t often quiet like this first thing in the morning. But if I got coffee and a shower out of the way, there’d
be plenty of time for other, more interesting pastimes when he returned.
I sat up slowly, groggier than was usual for me, and I’d only just managed to swing my legs over the edge of the bed when the room began to spin. The sensation made my stomach clench rhythmically, and I sat there gripping the edge of the mattress, waiting for the fit of queasiness to pass. Gradually, the waves of nausea began to subside, and I waited another moment, hoping for them to stop entirely; they did, though I feared I wasn’t out of the woods yet.
I thought through my schedule for the next several days, and it made ironic sense. I’d signed on to attend two wellness clinics this week on top of my regular schedule. I didn’t have time to be sick.
So, with a determination born out of sheer stubborn will, I stood up, padded down the hall to the kitchen, and forced down a cup of coffee from a pot that couldn’t have been brewed more than twenty minutes before. At least that gave me a clue as to when Declan had left, though the knowledge did nothing to help me figure out when he’d return.
I continued on with my morning routine, and twenty minutes before the start of my shift, I left the house. Declan still hadn’t returned, and while I was disappointed, perhaps it was for the best. I’d gotten far too used to him being there, and while I was willing to consider the possibility that whatever it was between the two of us had been developing into something more, it was still possible he was just having a good time.
I’d have contemplated the topic longer, but as I parked my car in the hospital parking lot and started across the black pavement toward the doors, an eerie sensation crept down my spine once again. It was the same feeling I’d pushed aside a few weeks before, and it was back in spades, so much that I whipped my head around, scanning the surrounding cars, squinting to see past the glare of the sun on the windshields. What exactly I was looking for, I didn’t know; a creepy guy with a hockey mask and a chainsaw seemed sufficient to explain away the unnerving tingle that made the hairs at the back of my neck stand on end.
But there was nothing. Not only was there no deranged madman lurking in the parking lot, there wasn’t anyone at all. The cars were all empty. In fact, aside from a well-dressed gentleman—with no hockey mask or chainsaw—who had just entered the hospital’s front door, the lot was devoid of people altogether. Maybe I was more sleep-deprived than I’d thought.
Still, I flew across the remainder of the lot at a rapid pace and couldn’t stop the sigh of relief that whooshed from my lungs once I was safely inside. The day was shaping up to be a strange one, indeed.
Chapter Eight
Declan
I saw Sarah emerge from the hospital doors and I slipped my phone back in my pocket. Weeks of investigating had turned up nothing—well, not exactly nothing, but so little, it might as well have been nothing. I’d checked in with every contact that might have proved useful and done everything I could to flush out the son of a bitch. The only thing I had to go on was a single sighting months ago, suggesting he hadn’t left the area altogether.
That, and the intuitive certainty Cane was coming for Sarah.
I didn’t know when or where, hence why I’d spent the past several weeks in her near-constant company. I’d never spent so much time with one woman in my life. I should’ve been going stir crazy, clawing at the confines of my invisible cage.
But I wasn’t.
It had been nice spending time with Sarah. Sure, I felt like a complete asshole for leading her on like I’d been, but I didn’t have a fucking choice. Better that she be a little hurt by my leaving when the time came than to be dead, wasn’t it?
Still, with how elusive the guy had been, I was beginning to worry I’d be hearing wedding bells long before he surfaced. A shiver ran down my spine and I resisted the urge to shake it off visibly. But damn, wedding bells? Sure, if I had to imagine myself with a woman for the next fifty years, Sarah was probably the only one I could see myself tolerating. But marriage was for a different sort of person. Certainly not for the kind of guy who had no permanent address and no desire for one.
So why the hell was I even thinking about it? Because I was more aware than most that it could sometimes take months, if not longer, to track down a mark—that’s why. Sarah seemed to be taking things day by day with us, but what happened if a month went by…and then two…then six? How long before she wanted to define what was going on between us?
But there was no sense in worrying about it. I’d just have to double my efforts and find the bastard. I was a damn good hunter. Find him, kill him and get the hell out. It was that simple.
And with that resolved in my mind, I grinned as she slowed her steps a few feet from me. She was smiling back, but there was an uneasy look in her eyes, too. She was uncomfortable; on edge. I hadn’t even considered that angle, but what if I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t looking for a happily ever after?
She wasn’t big on relationships. It had surprised me to hear it, but she hadn’t been lying when she’d said her love life had been confined to a string of casual flings. What if she was looking for a way to end this? Wouldn’t that just be great? How to keep a woman from kicking me to the curb wasn’t exactly amid my areas of expertise since I never stuck around long enough to overstay my welcome. What the hell was the woman turning me into?
“Hey, Sarah. I just stopped by to ask a favor of you.”
Maybe we’d just been spending too much time together and she needed some space, so I thought I’d offer to give us a night off—which basically amounted to me staking out her house from a discreet distance while she did…well, whatever she did when she wasn’t banging me. The blood circulating through my veins threatened to drain into my cock at the thought of her pinned beneath me, but I forced the images from my mind. There’d be none of that happening, and it was a good thing, too; I was getting far too used to jumping at the opportunity to fuck the same woman night after night.
“What favor might that be?” she asked, some of the tension leaving her shoulders as she looked past me and around the parking lot. What the hell was going on in that incredible brain of hers?
“Um…” Right…think quick. “I got cajoled into dinner with Hope and John tomorrow night. I was hoping you’d agree to come with me.” While Sarah might have had enough of me, Hope was a different story.
“Yeah, alright. I’d love to see Hope again.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up around eight?”
She nodded, but didn’t turn to leave. We stood there in awkward silence for a moment, and though she still seemed off, I could see the heat flaring in her eyes. While her mind might have been ready to move on, her body certainly wasn’t, and if I lingered there any longer, I’d have been hard-pressed to get her home before I fucked her brains out. A night off—that’s what we both needed.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” I said quickly and then revved the bike’s engine.
An hour later, I was parked a few doors down from her house in an inconspicuous car she wouldn’t recognize. I’d brought along an enormous thermos of coffee to keep me alert through the night, but I had a feeling that sitting there wondering what the woman was up to would keep me plenty awake—and hard as hell.
But as I watched her move from room to room, I first thought she’d returned to the task of searching the house for clues to her past. It didn’t take long to realize that she wasn’t rummaging through boxes, though: she was doing a sweep of the house, checking for…something. She was also battening down the hatches—windows and doors locked, curtains pulled. She peeked outside often, looking up and down the street and then dropping the curtains back into place. What was she doing?
I watched as she opened the door and took a tentative step outside. She looked up and down the street like she’d done from the window and then scurried back inside. And that’s when it hit me—which it should have long before then. It’s why Sarah had been tense, looking around when she’d come out of work. She was looking for something—or rather, someone.
To my sh
ame, I’d been so caught up in what had been going on between the two of us that I’d attributed her unease to that and hadn’t even recognized what it really was. It was clear, blatant proof I shouldn’t be the one doing this. I was just way too damn close to the situation.
But since there was no other option at the moment, I examined what I knew. Sarah was on edge; not scared, but it was enough. What exactly had happened to make her so anxious? Whatever it was had taken place at some point between the time I’d left her sleeping peacefully that morning and the time I’d seen her in the parking lot after work. So, it was reasonable to assume whatever it was had happened at the hospital.
I considered one possibility after another in a process of elimination. It wasn’t a nasty accident that had dug up memories of her childhood. She would be distraught, not uneasy—I’d seen that one firsthand. It wasn’t a fight with a colleague—she’d be pissed or agitated. She’d want to talk to me about it like she had earlier in the week when she’d had a disagreement with a coworker.
And that left me with two conclusions: first, I knew far too much about the woman, and second, whatever had made her uneasy was tied directly to the reason I was still lingering around.
How I was supposed to find out exactly what had happened though, I didn’t know. If I’d been able to be upfront with her from the start then I could simply confront her about it. But since she had absolutely no idea what I was up to, I was going to have to lead her into revealing the event herself. And since I’d foolishly opted to give the both of us a night off, it would have to wait ‘til tomorrow.
Fortunately, I had plenty of hours to figure out how to do that since I had even more of a reason to keep an alert eye on her house—all night.