“Connor’s got better things to do than sit around talking about me. He needs to be working on a case or something.”
A faint smile edged Dakota’s well-shaped lips. “He is.”
Back in the comfort of her lab, Dakota watched Jamie relax for the first time since they’d left for lunch. As she checked out her office for any more indications of an intruder, he watched her methodical movements. He had an idea. “Take the rest of the day off.”
Startled brown eyes latched onto his. “Huh?”
“You wanted me to teach you to shoot. Let’s go down to the firing range.”
In the act of shrugging into her lab coat, she paused. “Really?”
“Might as well.” He smiled. “Do you have anything better to do?”
She looked over at the bones laid out on the table. “Actually …”
“You might need this, Jamie.”
She shuddered. He hated to add to her stress level, but knowing how to defend herself might just save her life. She must have read that in his gaze because she nodded. “All right.”
“I’ll let Connor know what’s going on. He can continue the investigation into the bones and will call me if he needs me for anything.”
“All right. Just let me tell my boss and we can go, I guess.”
They made their necessary phone calls and within minutes were walking down to the firing range located in the basement of the station.
“Have you ever shot a gun before?” he asked.
“Yes, when I first came home from the hospital, I tried it a couple of times, but I never got very accurate before …”
“Before what?” he pressed, seeing the distress on her features. “Before I ended up too afraid to leave my own house.” She pulled her hair up in a ponytail and pinned the escaping tendrils with a couple of bobby pins. She placed the earphones over her ears, the goggles over her eyes, and grasped the gun he handed over.
He brought up a fresh target and said, “Aim for the chest.”
“What about his head?”
“Hit him in the chest first. You can go for the head once he’s down.”
Her jaw gaped a little as she studied him to see if he was serious.
He was. And he let her see it.
Swallowing hard, she nodded and turned her gaze back to the target.
Dakota moved behind her and said, “Now plant your feet apart about shoulder width, get into a comfortable stance.”
She followed his instructions to the letter as he explained how to grip the gun, how to aim and pull the trigger. “It sounds so easy.”
“It is once you do it for a while.”
“What if I miss?”
“That’s why you have more than one bullet in the gun.”
“Right.”
By the time they finished up an hour later, she was hitting the chest area of the target with almost every shot. No bull’s-eyes, but she could do some damage if the need arose.
He prayed it never would.
The Hero laughed softly to himself as he studied the pictures in the album. His treasure, his keepsake. One by one he flipped the pages. His first damsel in distress, then the second, the third – the one that got away.
He’d gotten careless with her. She’d begged him not to slit her throat. “Anything but that,” she’d wept. “I know you’re going to kill me, but do it any way you want, just don’t use a knife.”
He stroked her cheek with a finger, captured her tears with the digit and watched them drop to the floor. She sucked in such a brave breath and looked him in the eyes, his bright green eyes, the only thing showing through the mask he’d donned. His special mask. The one that turned him into a hero; the man who made everything better. “Then how do you wish to die, Jamie?”
“You’re my hero,” she whispered, thrilling him with her willingness to say the words without the knife in her face, “you can save me from death.”
“But only death stops the pain, Jamie. You have to die in order to be free.”
She looked away for a moment, then back. He saw her desperate struggle to keep her terror under control, but she gritted through her teeth, “Fine. Shoot me.”
He raised a brow. “I don’t shoot women, Jamie. That’s simply not … acceptable.”
A minute passed as she looked down, swallowed, then looked him in the eye. “Fine. I choose drowning.”
That surprised him. He hadn’t thought she’d actually choose. But it seemed she surprised him just about every time he turned around. Intrigued with her, he kept her longer than some of the others. But in the end he’d honored her request.
And look where he was now. She’d escaped. And he still didn’t know how. Fury rose up in him, hard to contain, writhing to get out.
“Stop the pain, stop the pain. Only you can do it,” the voice whispered, pushed him. “Only you can save me. Be my hero.”
He slapped his hands over his ears and eventually the voice stopped. Picking up the bottle on the seat beside him, he looked at the label. He must remember to get it refilled. Maybe. Actually, he’d been doing pretty well without it.
The bottle itself was a reminder. He had to keep it together, keep up the façade, or everyone would know. And they must not know.
His mind went back to Jamie. He’d honored her and her request, and she’d not responded in kind and honored him. She’d fought death. Had lived and gone on without him. How dare she? After he’d rescued her? Become her hero? Did his best to make the pain go away?
The rage built and he threw the book across the room. The pictures scattered and one fluttered next to his shoe. He bent and picked it up.
And knew what he was supposed to do.
8
Jamie slipped the new key into the shiny lock of her front door and turned to her bodyguard. “You didn’t have to walk me home, Dakota.”
“I know. I wanted to.” He leaned in a little. “I like spending time with you, Jamie.”
She pulled back, her heart in her throat. “Don’t … don’t like it too much, okay?”
“Jamie …” He threw a hand up. “When will you trust me? We’ve known each other over a year and a half and you still hold me at arm’s length. When are you going to let me in? Just a little?”
She knew he wasn’t talking about her front door.
A long pause followed his outburst. What should she say? What could she say?
“I told you … I warned you …” She bit her lip, wanting to cry – and punch him – all at the same time.
“I’m not playing games, Jamie, I care about you – a lot.”
“And I care about you. As a friend. Okay, more than a friend, but not … I don’t know if I can do more than friend. I honestly just … don’t know.” Keeping her tone neutral was hard. Almost impossible. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and be normal, like any other thirty-year-old single girl looking to meet someone, fall in love, and get married.
But she wasn’t normal.
Thanks to him.
“Then let’s find out.”
She pushed the door open and stepped inside. “What do you mean?”
He followed her in and shut the door behind him. “I don’t know. I just … I …” He let out a frustrated sigh. “Hold that thought. Let’s do a walk-through of your house and you tell me if anything looks out of place.”
Pivoting on her heel, she let her eyes scan the room, then she walked into the kitchen. Nothing weird here. She followed him through the two bedrooms and the bath she’d had enlarged and turned into a small spa.
“Everything seems fine,” she reported. Thank goodness. A chill spilled onto her arms, causing goosebumps to pop up. Bumps that had nothing to do with the air conditioner. Could she get Dakota out of her house before he went down a path she wasn’t ready to explore yet?
“Good, now back to what we were talking about.”
Nope, he was determined.
She cocked her head as she walked back into the foyer and set her keys on the side tabl
e next to the front door. “You want more.”
He flushed and stuck his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “Yeah. I do.”
“I think I wish you didn’t.”
He froze. Then looked at the ceiling. “Why?”
“Because … I … don’t know what to do with that.”
“You don’t know or you’re scared to find out?”
This time it was her turn to go red. She turned and headed into the kitchen. Dakota followed at a slower pace. Jamie pulled a couple of bottles of water from the refrigerator. She handed him one as she considered his very valid question. “I think it’s a little of both.”
“Look, Jamie, I know something horrific happened to you. That you were attacked. I understand he hurt you – ”
She whirled, cutting him off, the anger rising up like a tsunami. But her voice was barely above a whisper. “Hurt me? You think he hurt me? He didn’t hurt me. He raped me, then he tortured me, then he made me pick which way I wanted to die. Like I was picking out a car. Only instead of the choice between blue and red, I had to choose between having my throat slit and drowning. Only I didn’t drown. I lived.”
“Oh, Jamie …” He reached out a beseeching hand, but she waved him off.
She raised a hand. “Don’t. And he’s very, very good at what he does. He’s like a … a … ghost or something, a shadow that’s always lurking, watching. In spite of what everyone else thinks, part of me knows he’s back. The other part of me doubts my own mind. But,” she grimaced, “the past? It … doesn’t matter anymore. I survived. God allowed me to live for some reason. And I won’t apologize for my … issues. God and I are working on those.”
“I don’t want you to apologize. I’m asking you to consider a relationship with me.”
A knot formed in her throat. “I wish I could consider it. I really do. There are things about me that you don’t know, that if you did …” She couldn’t finish.
Feeling trapped, old, horrifying memories closing in, she walked into the sunroom and picked up a paintbrush. Squeezed paint onto the pallet beside her and dipped the brush. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
Painting. Her therapy. She inhaled the scent that always calmed her.
Dakota’s hand covered hers and she stilled, her heart tripping, beating hard. Because of the topic of conversation? His nearness? The flashes of her imprisonment and torture playing through her mind? Emotions rolled, bumping into one another as they surged inside her.
“Go away, Dakota.” The sobs begged for release. She refused to give in. “Just leave me alone right now.”
“I don’t want to leave you alone. I want to help you.”
His soft voice nearly caused a break in her control. She couldn’t figure out why he was so persistent. Any other man would have run without looking back by now. “You can’t help me. No one can help when the memories …” Her breath hitched. “Just go.”
More colors on the palate. Her fingers shook as she squeezed the tubes. Panting, her throat squeezed in. She ignored it, having learned she wouldn’t die from it.
She just needed to paint.
A fresh canvas.
Bristles dipped in whatever color she could reach first.
Another ragged, whistling breath.
And still, he didn’t leave.
Instead, he moved behind her, gripped the brush with her, and held her hand as she slashed the paint across the blank canvas. She registered his presence, vaguely wondered why he didn’t leave.
Over and over, he kept his hand on hers and followed her movements as she vented, color after color, with no rhyme or reason to the strokes.
Finally, she let go of the brush, heard it clatter to the table as she sank to the floor. He followed, his arm encircling her shoulders. She let him, leaned into his embrace, exhausted, spent.
She didn’t even feel like crying anymore as she let his woodsy cologne wash over her, his presence offer comfort and chase the nightmares away. She lost track of how long they sat there, silent, her panting breaths calming, her heart slowing to a normal rhythm.
Then he spoke. “How often does that happen?”
She sighed. “Every so often.”
A pause, then, “Jamie, darlin’, I know you have a rotten past, that there are things maybe you can’t tell me right now, horrifying things I probably can’t even imagine.” His voice had gone husky and she heard him swallow twice. “And that’s okay. I’m just asking that you let me in a little more. Let me past some of those barriers you’ve got up. That’s all. Let’s get to know each other better. Can you do that?”
She didn’t answer right away because she didn’t have an answer. Then she allowed a rueful smile to play across her lips. “I just did.”
He kissed the top of her head and her left hand fisted his shirt.
“I care about you, Jamie,” he whispered. “Just think about it, okay?”
She nodded against his shoulder, then mumbled, “You know, I don’t know that much about you either.”
He stilled. “What do you mean?”
“Every time we start to talk about you, you back off.”
“I do?”
Pulling back, she stared into his eyes, felt drawn into them to the depths of her soul. Resisting his pull, she said, “Yes. Maybe that’s why it’s hard for me to open up to you. Because I feel like it would be all one-sided.”
“Oh.” His brow crinkled as though deep in thought about that one. Then he changed the subject – just as she figured he would. “You’ve got someone watching your house. You should be fine. I’m going to take off, all right?”
She gave him a sad, knowing smile. “Sure.”
“And I’m going to think about what you just said.” He frowned as though his mind had already gone to work on it.
“Good.”
He pulled himself up from the floor and gave her a hand up. He headed for the door, stopped and turned back. “Would you recognize him if you saw him?”
Closing her eyes, she visualized the face she saw almost every night in her dreams. A face completely covered by a mask. Except for the eyes. “No, not his face. But his eyes. I’d recognize his eyes anywhere.”
“What color are they?”
“Green. A weird … green. I’ve never seen such strange eyes.”
“Did he alter them? You know, like with contacts?”
She shuddered. “I don’t know. Maybe. All I know is I want some more target practice tomorrow sometime.”
Dakota admired her spunk for sure. But he worried his heart was getting ready to go splat when she uncurled her fingers from around it and sent him on his way. He rubbed his chest, the area actually aching at the thought.
What was he going to do about her?
The only thing he could do, he supposed. Love her.
And he did. Just the thought of what she’d suffered made him want to get his hands around the throat of the man who’d inflicted those things on her. A rage like he’d never felt before simmered just below the surface.
But was she right? Did he clam up and change the subject if it got too close to piercing through the barriers of his emotional comfort zone?
Probably.
His past wasn’t so great either and talking about it wasn’t on his top ten list of fun things to do.
His phone rang as he walked back toward the office to get his car. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Connor. How is she?”
“Hanging in there. By a thread, I think, but she’s holding her own.”
“I think Samantha’s going to head back over there and stay the night again.”
“And you’re all right with that?” He already knew the answer to that question but wanted to hear Connor say it.
“Whatever it takes to keep Jamie safe – and comfortable.”
Dakota let the relief flow. “Good. I agree.”
“Has Jamie found anything more on the bones?”
“I think she’s got an idea about them but hasn’t
really said much.” He swerved off topic. “I took her shooting today.”
Connor gave a humorless laugh. “Cool. How’d that go?”
“She did a good job. Good enough to cause some damage if she ever needs to.”
“Let’s do our best to make sure it never comes to that.”
“You bet.”
“Catch you in the morning first thing?”
“See you then.”
By the time Dakota pressed the off button, he’d reached his car. He opened the door and slid in, deciding to drive past Jamie’s house. Just to check. Even though he knew she was fine.
After all, she had someone watching her house this very minute. He spun out of the parking lot and onto the street that would lead him right back down the path he’d just walked.
A moment later, he could see the entrance to her subdivision and wheeled in. A couple of turns later brought him to her street. Night approached, creeping in slowly as the sun dipped and the stars started to make their presence known. Shadows shifted, trees danced in the slight breeze that only partially cut the muggy heat.
Jessica Hardesty, the cop watching Jamie’s house, sat up to watch as he drove past at a snail’s pace. He waved to her and she sat back with a visible sigh and a nod of acknowledgment. Good, she’d been alert, watchful. Jamie was in good hands. Plus Samantha would be here soon.
Movement caught his eye.
What?
Right around the side by the window. The light from the den briefly outlined a shadow.
That of a head and shoulders. He braked and spun his vehicle to the side of the street. Hopping out, he waved to Jessica to join him. She climbed from her car and rushed over. “What is it?”
“I saw someone over there by the den window.” He pulled his weapon and headed in the direction of where he’d seen the shadow.
“You want me to call for back up?” she called after him.
“Yeah.” Dakota bolted around the side of the house. Whoever had been out there had heard them and realized he’d been spotted. Behind him, he could hear Jessica on the radio giving their location. Ahead of him, he heard pounding feet.
Then silence. The guy was running across the grass now.
Careful not to expose himself in case the suspect had a weapon, Dakota rounded the next corner, gun ready. “Freeze! FBI!”
Don't Look Back Page 6