Davy nodded in farewell and slouched his tall body out the short door frame. Connor started to follow, but he turned back, his eyes full of reluctant sympathy. “Look at it this way. The sooner we wrap this thing up, the sooner you can settle down and have ten kids with her.”
“Fuck off, McCloud.” The words popped out, an automatic reflex.
For the first time, he wondered why he reacted like that.
Connor nodded as if Seth had said good-bye, or later, dude, or have a nice night. “Take it easy,” he said. “Keep in touch.”
Seth turned back to his preparations, but the image Connor had put in his head quivered like a freshly shot arrow in a wooden post.
He had never contemplated fathering a child. He was a textbook example of a guy who would make a rotten father. He was rude and crude and arrogant, he had a mean streak ten miles long, his moral development was questionable, to put it mildly, and he lacked basic social skills. Other than crusty, irascible old man Hank, he had no models for fatherhood. Except for Mitch, of course. That said it all.
As for the things he was good at, well, the list was short and telling. Spying. Stealing. Fighting. Sex. Kicking ass. Making money.
Not the best skills for a babbling baby to learn at its daddy’s knee.
He’d grown up fully aware that his life bore no resemblance to what he saw on TV sitcoms and commercials for life insurance and breakfast cereal. Cynical little bastard that he was, it hadn’t taken long for him to start suspecting that TV’s perfect normal world didn’t really exist anyway. He was comfortable with his own dark, gothic underworld. He knew its rules, its pitfalls. He didn’t pine after fairy tales of marriage and family and cozy domestic bliss.
Oh, he kept it together, more or less. He was registered to vote, he had served his country in the armed forces, he paid his taxes, they had his picture down at the DMV. But his public persona was a means to an end. Hank and Jesse had been his points of reference, ambassadors to the world of normal. Without them, he was lost in space. So far off the grid, he didn’t even appear on the screen.
He’d gotten so good at shoving thoughts and feelings away. Now look at him. Fantasizing about Raine, pregnant. Holding his baby in her arms. The feelings that image provoked were so strong, they terrified him. Fear, for how unspeakably vulnerable that would make him. Anger, because anger always followed on the heels of fear. Anger of the ugly, gut-wrenching, teeth-gnashing variety.
Anger and fear were a hell of a recipe for fatherhood. Better if he stuck to kicking ass and making money. He’d inflict less damage on the world that way. He forced himself to concentrate. What was he doing? Gathering the hardware to take to Templeton Street. Right. Revenge and ruin. Now there was something he could wrap his mind around. There he was on solid ground. Stick to what you know, the experts said. He threw his bag into the Chevy and drove through the streets, trying not to think about Raine or Jesse.
He needed to think about ruin and revenge. Cold, careful and methodical. Novak wanted Raine. Seth wanted Novak. The formula was simple. She was bait. Once he’d killed Novak, he would be free to take out Lazar, and that would be the end of the matter, unless some tight-ass tried to prosecute him for it. In which case he would fade discreetly out of sight and live the rest of what would pass for his life outside the bounds of respectable society. The prospect held few terrors for him. He’d spent half of his life there anyway. The rules weren’t all that different. He had several alternate identities already set up and waiting for him: passports, credit histories, the lot. He had money socked away in out of the way places, and when it ran out, no problem. There was plenty of lucrative work in the underworld for a man of his skills.
But he couldn’t take a woman with him there. At least not a certain type of woman. Keeping a woman was definitely an on-the-grid proposition. Women liked family reunions, Christmas cards. Babies.
It occurred to him that he hadn’t been such a terrible brother to Jesse. Maybe he wasn’t the type to remember birthdays, but he’d always been there when the chips were down, ready to kick ass.
God. What was he thinking? A guy didn’t qualify for domestic bliss because he could kick ass. Any thug on the street could kick ass.
No, there was some other, far more mysterious set of credentials.
The conclusion he came to as he parked in front of Raine’s house was that the mysterious list of credentials probably did not include spying on a woman, or bugging her apartment, or planting transmitters in her stuff, or deliberately not telling her that she was the chosen prey of a sadistic arch-villain. It probably centered more on tedious, inconvenient crap like following rules, respecting boundaries, telling the truth like a good little Boy Scout.
Too bad. The truth was too dangerous to tell. So much for his newfound moral scruples and his attack of conscience. He smiled grimly as he inserted the pick gun into her lock. He was cured. Hallelujah.
He stole into the dark house and wandered through it. She had left no visible trace of herself in the place, just a bright, humming awareness of her presence. Her refrigerator was empty, cupboards bare. It was the first time he had been inside since she’d been living there. He smelled her everywhere—whispers of her soap, her lotion, her own sweet, ineffable smell. He sank to his knees by her bed and buried his face in her pillow, aroused to the point of pain.
He logged onto his computer and deactivated all the wall sensors and vidcams in the house’s interior. He needed total privacy for what was going to happen in that room tonight. No witnesses, no records.
The smart thing to do now would be to go out and sit in his car until she got home, and then ring the doorbell. Dingdong, lah-di-dah. Good evening, don’t you look lovely tonight. Mr. Civilized, faking social skills. Another lie, on top of all his other deceptions.
Fuck it. Why pretend? She was on to him, anyway. She knew what kind of man he was, ever since he’d taken her to bed. And he liked it that she knew. Twisted and dangerous though that was, he liked it that at least one person on earth had a clue who he was inside.
He settled into the chair and pulled up the vehicle beacon display. The Stone Island boat was finally heading towards Severin Bay. He pulled up the ferry schedule, calculated the length of a ferry ride, then the cab ride. Then he was going to find exactly what part she was playing in this game. He’d never fucked information out of a woman either, but hey, like Connor said—there was a first time for everything.
Chapter 12
Maybe she could keep down chicken soup, if she was lucky, and some stale crackers.
Raine leaned back against the seat of the cab, exhausted. Her body was beginning to protest going so long without food, but a mental inventory of her larder was not inspiring. She didn’t have the energy to contemplate shopping, or cooking, or a restaurant. Even the idea of sorting through a pile of take-out menus seemed too much to face.
She had to nurture herself better. She couldn’t run on nerves alone. Each day was getting crazier than the last. The loony bin and the padded cell lay at the end of that road.
She wandered through the house once she got home, throwing off her coat and kicking off her shoes as she went. She didn’t even bother to flip on the lights. The brief attack of hunger was already passing, and now she felt too tired to eat. She headed for the bedroom. First a shower, to warm her up, then her floppy fleece pajamas, and then—
“Where the fuck have you been?”
She leaped back from the door, cowering against the wall of the corridor. Her heart thudded against her ribs. The eerie blue glow of a laptop screen seeped through the bedroom door.
Seth, of course. Who else. She reached in the door and flipped on the hanging lamp.
The wingback chair he was slouched in looked too fussy and small for his long body. He was all in black like the cat burglar that he was; black jeans, a black sweatshirt, his thick scrub brush of black hair sticking every which way, like he’d been running his hands through it all day. His eyes were shadowed with exhaustion, but th
ey blazed at her with unnerving intensity.
She shook so violently she had to clutch the doorjamb to stay upright. “You scared me practically to death!”
He made a few keystrokes and snapped the laptop shut. He slid it into the bag and glared at her. Not shamefaced in the slightest. As if she were the one in the wrong. The outrageous, presumptuous bastard.
“That settles it.” She marched into the room. “The next man who scares me out of my wits jumping out of the dark at me—dies. I’m sick of it. Do you hear me? No excuses, no explanations. I am not speaking figuratively. Do you understand that, Seth?”
He didn’t even blink. “Yes.”
“Yes?” Her anger bubbled and fumed. “That’s all? Just yes?”
He got to his feet. “Yes, I understand that. Let’s move on to what the fuck you’ve been doing for the past sixteen hours.”
She was so furious, his looming and glowering didn’t even intimidate her. “What business is it of yours? You have no right to ask! You have no right to even be here! I should be calling nine-one-one!”
“After yesterday, I have every right.”
The cool conviction in his voice maddened her. She wished she hadn’t discarded her shoes. She needed the extra two inches to face him down. “Let me explain something to you, Seth, because we’re not communicating very well,” she said. “If I had a boyfriend, I would of course include him in every aspect of my life. I would call him, and e-mail him, and leave cute little text messages on his cell phone. I would keep him informed of where I’m going, when I’m getting back—”
“Yeah. Exactly. That’s what I—”
“But I don’t have a boyfriend, Seth!” she yelled. “I don’t have a phone number, I don’t have a beeper number. I don’t have a clue! What I do have is a problem. A big, nasty-tempered problem who invades my privacy and jumps out of the dark like a horror movie monster! A man who thinks he owns me just because we slept together!”
“For the record, that wasn’t just sleeping together.”
“Oh no? What was it, exactly?” she demanded. “Enlighten me, please. Remember, I don’t have your vast experience in these matters.”
“It was…it was more.” He shoved his hand through his hair and shook his head. “It blew my mind. And there was no sleeping involved. In fact, I haven’t actually slept since I met you.”
“Oh, please. I’m so flattered! I’m so incredibly hot in bed, you just can’t help yourself? Sleep deprivation has driven you so far out of your mind that you feel justified in breaking into my house? What is it with me, Seth? Why does everybody seem to think that the normal rules of civilized behavior don’t apply with me? Have I got a sign on my back that says ‘anything goes’? ”
His breath hissed through his teeth. “Christ, Raine. I’ve been sitting here on a bed of nails wondering what that bastard was doing to you, and you’re mad because I forgot to give you my phone number?”
She stared at him. “How did you know I was at the island?”
“I called the office! If you’d been there, I would have asked you out to dinner! But you weren’t there! You were off at Lazar’s fucking private island!”
She sat down on the bed and dug her toes into the thick carpet. “Why would you think that Victor would hurt me?” she asked gently.
“Oh. It’s Victor, now, not Mr. Lazar, hmm?”
She brushed his words away with a wave of her hand. “Don’t be ridiculous, please. Just answer the question.”
“He handed you over to me yesterday like you were a professional, Raine,” he said hoarsely. “He threw you to the wolves, and he did it for fun. For fun. Why not again, if that’s how he gets his kicks?”
Her mouth dropped open. He had been worried. Frightened for her. She was so touched that for a moment, she forgot how angry she was. “Victor Lazar did not force me to go to bed with you,” she told him gently. “I had already decided on my own to seduce you, if I could.”
He snorted. “If you could. Hah.”
She lifted her chin. “I went with you because I wanted you. I am not as helpless and stupid as you seem to think. Today, I negotiated contracts for Taiwanese pharmaceuticals, Indonesian teak flooring and textiles, Baltic timber and Norwegian cheese. I also formatted the annual report and typed letters and e-mails to the entire world, in five different languages. It was a very normal working day, Seth. I was not called upon to provide sexual entertainment for Victor or anyone else, so put your mind at ease.”
He opened his mouth, but she held up her hand. “I’m not finished yet. You have to follow the rules. Like knocking on locked doors, for instance. That’s not too much to ask. And this jumping out of the dark and scaring me to death, that’s a terrible habit. I won’t tolerate it.”
“Like a dog pissing on the rug?”
She forced herself not to laugh at his sour expression. “Exactly,” she said. “People should try to follow the basic rules of civilized society. Particularly…lovers.”
The silence in the room was absolute. His gaze bored into her face, as focused as a laser. “Does that mean we’re lovers, then?”
This was the moment of truth. She had felt it coming since his visit that morning. It was time to either dive off the cliff into deep, unknown water, or turn and run like hell. She squeezed her eyes shut, head spinning with a tingling rush of vertigo. She opened her eyes and jumped. “I don’t know, Seth,” she whispered. “Are we?”
Two swift strides, and he was upon her. “Hell, yes.”
His hard grasp made her stiffen up; it was too much, too soon, and she was still angry and confused. The world dipped and spun. She was on her back, on the carpet with Seth arched over her. He unraveled her braid and fanned her hair out around her head. He pushed her legs apart and settled his hard body against her.
She shoved against his chest. “Seth, hold on. Wait!”
“Relax.” He tugged her blouse out of the waistband of her skirt, sliding his hand beneath it. He growled with pleasure as his hand found warm skin. “What’s the problem? You said we were lovers, right?”
She seized his wrist and yanked it out of her blouse. “Sex is not all that means, you dog!”
His eyes gleamed. “Woof,” he said. “What else does it mean?”
“Lovers do things together! They rent videos, they ride Ferris wheels, they go out for pizza, they play Scrabble. They…they talk!”
“Talk?” He lifted his head and frowned, his eyes puzzled. “We talk all the time, Raine. I’ve never had such talkative sex.”
“That’s just it!” She wiggled, flailed, but couldn’t budge him. “Two minutes alone with you, and I’m flat on my back. Every single time!”
A slow, knowing grin spread over his face. “Is this your way of telling me you want to be on top?”
It was too much. She had been pushed around all day, she was still buzzing with adrenaline, and that smug, self-satisfied look on his face was unbearable. Pressure built up and snapped, faster than she could think or reason. Her hand lashed out and slapped his face, hard.
They stared at each other, stunned. Raine looked at her stinging hand as if it were not her own. Seth seized her wrist and pinned it over her head without speaking. His eyes were hard with controlled anger.
“Oh, God,” she whispered. “I wish I hadn’t done that.”
“Me too.” His voice was low and menacing. He settled more of his weight upon her, squashing her breathless. “That one was for free. Do not ever, ever hit my face again. Is that clear?”
She licked her dry lips and tugged at her trapped wrist. “Seth, I—”
“Is that absolutely clear?”
She nodded. Long, silent moments slid by. They were frozen, immobile. As if waiting for a bomb to explode.
Raine pushed at his chest, trying to make room for her lungs to expand. “You’re playing power games again,” she said. “Please don’t.”
“This isn’t a game. You’re pushing me, Raine. You’re testing me, and I’m just laying down
the rules.”
“Your rules,” she said.
“That’s right.” His face was implacable. “My rules.”
“That’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair? You wanted to follow the basic rules of civilized behavior, right? Civilized people don’t hit each other. Simple enough. Or do the rules only apply to me, and not to you?”
“You just broke into my house, you manipulative bastard,” she hissed. “Don’t you dare throw my words back in my face! And I’m not the one who’s pushing. You’re the one who’s pushing me. You never stop. Move, please. Right now. I can’t breathe.”
He shifted his weight off, and propped his head on his elbow. “But it turns you on when I push,” he pointed out. “I feel what makes you hot, and I follow what I feel. That’s how I make you come. By pushing you to the place that you need to go.”
It was hard to frame the elusive thought into words with his eyes boring into her face, scattering her wits. “But it drives me nuts!”
“I love driving you nuts.” He lowered his face to kiss her.
She shoved him away. “I mean nuts in a bad way, not in a good way! I’ve never hit anyone in my entire life, Seth! I’m a total creampuff pacifist, and you—you made me hit you!”
He studied her face for a long moment with a keen, assessing look. “That is such bullshit,” he said finally.
She blinked at him, bewildered.
“Don’t give me that confused, innocent look. Your creampuff act is just a mask. I can see right through it. I see right into you, Raine.”
“Do you?” She squirmed beneath him, restless. “What do you see?”
“Something shining. Beautiful and strong and wild. It pulls on me, makes me ache and burn. Makes me want to howl at the moon.”
His heated words licked at her like flames. Her body relaxed with one last shuddering sigh, and she gave in and twined around him, pliant and soft. “Don’t push so hard,” she pleaded.
“Stop resisting,” he coaxed, his lips nuzzling, nipping at her throat. “I could take you so incredibly far if you’d just let yourself go. Let me drive, Raine. I swear, I know where I’m going.”
Behind Closed Doors (The Mccloud Series Book 1) Page 18