by Julie Miller
Emma leaned over and whispered. “When did you beef up the program? I thought you wanted to keep things simple.”
Jas whispered from the other side. “This is terrific. Certainly a little irreverent, but the audience is eating it up.”
“You can see it then?” BJ's whisper held none of the same excitement.
“See what?” Emma turned around and saw how badly BJ was shaking.
“This isn't right.” A headache pounded behind her eyes. “It's a pirated program.”
Jas wrapped a steadying arm around her shoulders. “Are you sure?”
Emma frowned with fear. “I'll find Brodie.”
“I need some fresh air.” BJ pulled away from Jas's support.
“I'll go with you.”
“No. Cover for me. Please. I'm losing it.”
BJ quickly descended from the platform. She barely acknowledged the congratulatory remarks from the guests as she pushed her way out of the room.
Someone had gotten inside her head again. Images from last night wound their way into the android program, its intricacies mocking her with the clever style that only she could devise.
She left the warehouse by the back exit and ran into the parking lot. She had to get out of there. She had to find Brodie.
What kind of sick jokester would take a woman's private daydream and put it onscreen for two hundred people to see? Or was the joke for her alone? What kind of demon tormented a woman with a silly game, making her doubt her own sanity?
She dug in her pockets for her truck keys, then remembered Brodie had driven them to the ball. She glanced back over her shoulder, anxious to escape, but not eager to return to the scene of her nightmare to look for Brodie.
Instead, BJ hurried over to his Explorer, praying he would look for her there.
She paced beside the Explorer for nearly a minute before noticing the folded paper tucked beneath the windshield wiper. Responding out of distraction more than curiosity, BJ pulled it out and unfolded it. On a sheet of LadyTech stationery, laser-printed in standard type, were these simple words, “Nothing can save you from your fate.”
Nothing. The word tormented her. Deathly fear consumed her. She hadn't been threatened before. The only danger had been inside her head. Why would someone threaten her? BJ paused. Then she realized the message was on Brodie's car. It was intended for Brodie. Someone didn't want him investigating the security leak. Someone wanted him out of the way.
Permanently.
“BJ?”
The familiar deep voice boomed across the parking lot. She turned from the crumpled paper in her hand to see Brodie searching the shadowy parking lot for her. BJ sagged with relief. She ran to him, wanting to fling herself into his arms and beg that he protect her from the nightmare unfolding on the screen inside.
But she heard another sound that stopped her in her tracks. An engine revved, hidden somewhere in the darkness. When the tires squealed on the pavement, BJ remembered the note in her hand, the threat to Brodie.
A dark car lurched onto the roadway, picking up speed. Brodie jumped off the curb, running toward her.
She screamed his name and dashed forward, wanting him to move out of the path of the car. His gaze snapped from the oncoming vehicle to BJ.
“No!” The gleam of a chrome bumper flashed before her eyes.
With a flying leap, she launched herself at Brodie to push him to safety.
“BJ! No!”
When she hit the wall of his chest, he twisted and wrapped his arms around her like a shield.
She felt the horrible impact that knocked them both to the ground and sent them sliding several feet across the pavement. Brodie landed on top of her, knocking the wind from her lungs. She heard a crunch and Brodie's muffled “oof” and felt a burning along the side of her left leg and shoulder.
They came to a stop when they hit the grass at the curb. BJ lay stunned, smothered in the vice of Brodie's arms and chest. When she could breathe again, she squirmed until she wedged a little space to free her arms. She snatched Brodie around the neck, hugging him close and burying her cheek against his collar.
“This is all my fault. I'm so sorry I got you involved in all this.”
Brodie rolled onto his back, bringing BJ on top of him, holding her securely with one arm. His hand roamed up and down her arms and across her back. “Are you hurt?”
The car speeding from the scene wouldn't register until later. At the moment, BJ could only revel in the warmth and strength of the man who held her.
“C'mon, honey, answer me.” His hand pressed a little harder. Then, when his fingers touched the raw skin on BJ's shoulder, she gasped and stiffened. “BJ?”
She relaxed against him once more. “It's no worse than skinning my knee. I think I did a really good job of that, too. But nothing serious.”
“Thank God.” He squeezed her tightly. BJ clung to him, needing his solid security to anchor her in the midst of fear and chaos. He understood. He protected.
He pushed her away.
Abruptly, BJ found herself sitting on the ground beside Brodie's prone figure. With an awkward lack of grace, he pushed himself up to a sitting position facing her.
“What the hell did you think you were doing?” Fury raged darkly in his turbulent eyes.
“What the hell was I doing? I saved your life! Someone tried to kill you.”
“He was trying to kill you!”
BJ scrambled to her feet, searching for the note. She plucked the torn paper from the spot where it landed and returned to Brodie. She knelt beside him, ignoring the stinging wound on her leg, shoving the paper at him. “I found it under your windshield, 'Mister Attack Me Now When I'm Already Scared To Death' Maxwell. Somebody doesn't want you to help me.”
With one hand, he unballed it and quickly read the contents, muttering a string of expletives when he finished. Just as quickly, he stuffed the note into his pocket and reached for BJ's hand. Slower to cool than he, she resisted at first. Then she looked into his eyes and saw the dramatic change there. Dark like worn steel, she discovered. When he let something besides his anger show, he had the most beautiful, unusual eyes she had ever seen on a man.
She softened under that unique gaze and clutched his hand in return. “I didn't want you to get hurt.”
“They can't hurt me.”
“Of course, you can be hurt. Look at your…scars.” She finished badly, hoping he wouldn't anger and pull away from her again.
He only shook his head. “Promise me you'll never do anything that foolish again. Don't ever jeopardize your safety for me.”
He leaned forward, cutting off her protest with a kiss. His touch was strong and sure, filled with a mixed message of compassion, lust and warning. BJ clung to him, needing his mouth on hers, needing his secure presence to make her feel whole.
Brodie pulled back all too soon, leaving BJ shaken and wanting more. “Promise me,” he rasped.
“Are you two all right?”
The rest of the world invaded BJ's private moment with Brodie when Emma knelt beside them, followed by Jasmine just a step behind. Shutters of ice closed over Brodie's eyes again before he answered.
“Call 911. I want somebody out here to check BJ as soon as possible.”
“You, too.”
Emma nodded. “I'll get right on it.”
When Emma left to make the phone call, Jasmine took her place. Her blue eyes shimmered with worry. “I'm so sorry about getting the programs mixed up. To see it publicly displayed must have been a shock.”
“It's not your fault,” BJ assured her.
Brodie intervened. “It's tangible proof your ideas have been pirated.”
“Yeah.” If she and Brodie hadn't just been run down by an oversized Buick, she might have smiled. But there were still too many problems to solve. “What's the purpose of showing the game? The thief can't make any money off it now.”
Brodie squeezed her hand again. “It's a display of power. His over yours.”
&
nbsp; “His? You think it's a man?” Brodie's expression shifted a little, as if he wanted to say more. “What?”
A low hum of voices interrupted before Brodie could answer. BJ looked up and saw several party guests coming out the back door, curiously moving closer to find out what had happened.
Jas looked over her shoulder, then back at BJ and Brodie. “I'll get them out of the way. You two work this out, okay?” She gave BJ a quick hug. “I leave tomorrow for Tokyo, and I don't want to be worrying about you.”
“I'll be fine.”
Jas patted Brodie's right shoulder before leaving to dispel the crowd of onlookers. “Make sure you have that arm looked at.”
“Your arm?” Fear stabbed BJ. “What's wrong with your arm?”
She moved closer, inspecting first his right, then his left arm. A gasp of sympathetic pain escaped. A pool of blood dripped into the grass beneath the shredded left sleeve of Brodie's jacket.
“Oh, my God.” She ripped the rest of his shirtsleeve to expose his wound. She clamped her teeth together to keep from retching at the sight of the ghastly injury. Brodie's arm lay contorted at an abnormal angle. A tattered sliver of bone protruded from a wide gash near the joint. “A compound fracture.”
“It doesn't hurt much.” He tried to push her hand away, but she continued to work at picking loose threads from the ripped material out of the wound. “I'm all right.”
“Don't be so brave about it. Let me help.” BJ pushed against his shoulders to get him to lie down again.
“I said I'm all right!” The harshness of his tone shocked BJ into stillness.
“You need a doctor.”
“Trust me. I'll be okay.” BJ searched his face for some kind of explanation, but the harsh landscape revealed nothing. Brodie cradled the broken arm in his lap and studied the injury himself.
After a moment, he wrapped his powerful hand around the wound and began to compress the area. He only grunted once as the broken arm snapped back into place.
She cupped his face and rubbed his shoulders, touching him, comforting him wherever she could. Chivalry might include some rule about hiding your true feelings, but even a man of Brodie's stature and bearing had to feel excruciating pain. “What can I do to help?”
“Just forgive me. And try to understand.”
Her forehead wrinkled at the odd request. “Understand what?”
When he looked down at his forearm, BJ did the same. She looked back up into apologetic eyes, then down at the awful wound.
She pulled her hands away from him, too stunned to speak coherently. “What…?”
“BJ—”
“No!” She jerked away from his outstretched hand, no longer comforted by his touch. She pinched herself, trying to wake from this horrible, ongoing nightmare.
“BJ, I can explain.” He had been rough before, dangerous and mad as hell. Now he pleaded with her, a desperate note shading the deep rumble of his voice.
She refused to see the pain in his eyes, the loss registered there. She could only stare at his arm, dumbfounded and disbelieving.
In a span of seconds, right before her eyes, the blood ceased flowing from the open gash. The rip in his skin narrowed, then fully closed. A pink ridge formed where the gash had been. Then the puckered skin turned whitish gray and sunk into his forearm, leaving a new, perfectly healed scar.
Brodie flexed his fingers and made a fist, testing the once-damaged arm. Then he reached out, tentatively, lifting that same hand to her face.
“Don't touch me!” BJ scooted away from him on her backside, leaving his outstretched fingers suspended in midair.
“Don't be scared of this. I can explain.”
BJ shook her head. Her brilliant mind couldn't comprehend the miracle she had just witnessed—a miracle as maddening and frightening as the thought of an unknown tormentor snatching thoughts right out of her head.
“Who are you?” she whispered, feeling betrayed and humiliated by the creature before her. “What are you?”
Chapter Five
BJ ran. Through sculpted hedgerows and thorny rose beds she ran. Into a stand of dogwood trees, denuded of its flowers by the summer's heat, she ran. If she could run fast enough and far enough, she could escape the nightmare.
But how did you escape a giant who thundered after you in the night?
The sounds of the building storm blended with the sounds of Brodie crashing through the trees behind her. The first raindrops hit her face mere moments before he grabbed her arm and yanked her to a halt.
He swung her up into his arms, absorbing every kick and scratch she doled out. She pummeled him and fought for escape. She couldn't hurt him. Her foolish, futile struggle couldn't hurt him one bit.
Hot tears ran side by side with chilling rain down her cheeks. She had passed over the edge into insanity. There could be no other explanation for Brodie Maxwell. As she accepted that fact, a peaceful calm shivered through her, leaving her spent and silent by the time Brodie deposited her into the dry warmth of his Explorer.
“BJ, can you hear me?”
He climbed in the driver's side, dripping water onto the upholstery. Peripherally, she saw him reach for her, but draw his hand back.
“I am so sorry. I'm sorry I didn't prepare you for this.”
BJ stared at the windshield, entranced by the waterfall streaming down the smooth glass. Brodie's heavy sigh brushed across her ears without a response. He reached around her and buckled her into her seat, careful not to touch her. He started the engine and turned on the wipers, clearing her path of vision so she could see into the lightning-shattered darkness.
“I'll take you home.”
BJ climbed out of the vehicle herself when they reached her front door. Brodie hovered around her, but didn't touch her. He pushed the buttons and opened the door for her. She walked through the living room and kitchen to the back porch. Duke greeted her, full of love and acceptance and furry, tongue-licking reality.
She cradled him in her arms, rocking and loving him as if he were a baby, for a long while before Brodie's gruff voice made her tense. “We need to doctor those cuts and scrapes. And get you dried off and into bed.”
Like a drugged patient dutifully obeying her nurse, BJ walked through the house to the bathroom. She sat while Brodie dug through drawers and cabinets to find first-aid supplies. Duke nestled in her lap, situating himself so he could keep an eye on Brodie.
BJ flinched at the first sting of peroxide on her shoulder and the dog growled.
“Sorry, boy,” said Brodie, “but I need to do this.”
With amazing gentleness for someone with such big hands, Brodie tended her shoulder and the scrape along her leg that ran from above her knee to her ankle. He applied cooling ointment and covered the worst part of the wound with a gauze bandage.
“Too bad I don't heal as quickly as you.”
At the sound of her flat voice, he looked up from where he knelt beside her, a light of hope flickering and dying in his eyes. “I guess that's not a joke.”
“Guess not.”
He stood, taking several seconds to straighten to his full height. BJ experienced no fear or intimidation at his towering presence. Crazy women didn't get scared.
She rose obediently when he touched her elbow, though he quickly released her when Duke nipped at him. “You need dry clothes.”
They went into her bedroom. BJ waited and watched Brodie open the drawers of her dresser, searching through her things for pajamas. He returned with a pair of panties and a Cubs jersey.
“Here.” She looked at him, unmoving. He dropped the clothes on the bed when she didn't take them. Hesitantly, as though unsure where to start, Brodie grasped the hem of her shirt and pulled it up past her waist. Duke barked and Brodie dropped the material, stepping back.
“A little help?”
She tossed Duke onto the bed. “Sit.” The dog minded, then she lifted her gaze to Brodie. “Go ahead.”
Her compliance surprised him, she could tell
. Good. Let there be at least one small thing she could do to knock his world off kilter.
His eyes darkened to shadowy pools. Testing him gave her a small measure of control. She was making him pay for earning her trust and then shattering it, and he knew it. The impatient, fortifying breath through his stiff lips proved that.
Brodie pulled her blouse up over her head and dropped it beside her. The air on her damp skin raised goose bumps. But she didn't move to rub them away.
He turned her by her upper arms and reached for the fastening of her strapless bra. His calloused fingertips teased her spine, hovering about the clasp.
With a sharp intake of breath, he pulled away from her. “Don't make me do this.”
“You're my protector. Take care of me.”
“Damn it, BJ. You think I'm some kind of a monster, but I'm not. I'm a man. I know I hurt you, and believe me, I'll pay for that. But don't, please don't taunt me like this. Don't punish me because I'm different.”
She turned and looked at him then, fully conscious and fully aware of the heat from his gaze sweeping over her and then fixing on her upturned face. She could hurt him, after all. He wasn't invincible. She had the power to hurt him.
Some of her fighting spirit struggled to the surface. It went against her nature to knowingly cause anyone pain. “I want to understand, Brodie. Please help me understand.”
A little of the tension eased from his expression. Tentatively, he touched his fingers to her cheek. When she didn't recoil, he traced the mark of her dried tears down to her chin. He tipped her head back and lowered his mouth to hers. Firm lips touched hers with gentle reverence. Her lips softened beneath his, trading apologies.
When he finally pulled away, his eyes shone with silvery promise. “In the morning, when you're stronger, I'll try to explain. But not now. You've had one shock after another tonight. You don't need to deal with anything else.”
BJ nodded mutely and watched him leave, closing the door behind him. Shivering, she quickly shed her wet things and put on the clothes Brodie had chosen for her.
She scooped Duke up and crawled beneath the covers, curling around her warm companion. The summer storm surrounded the house, enveloping it in a cocoon of rain and rolling thunder. She tried to make sense of all that had happened, and felt deliriously inept in the attempt.