Chase Me (37 page)

Gabe took her hand, raised her scuffed knuckles to his mouth, and suckled. “Looks like you got a few licks in.” He squinted at her burns. “I can’t see a goddamn thing.”

She stroked the singed hair, careful not to touch his blistered ear with her filthy hands. “Where are your glasses?”

“Back on the trail with my clothes. Are you okay?” His voice was tight, controlled, but his eyes seethed like whitecaps on a lake. Still squinting, he brailled her for injuries, carefully skimming his fingertips over her forehead, cheekbones, and jawline, not touching her burns directly. He skated his big hands over her shoulders, down her arms and torso before peering myopically at her burns again. “Where’s the first aid kit?”

“He singed your skunk stripe,” she murmured.

“Huh?”

“The white patch of hair over your ear. It’s burned.”

“Forget my hair. Where’s the first aid kit?”

She gestured to the same storage shed she’d retrieved the bungee cords and fire extinguishers from. While Gabe retrieved the first aid kit, Gretchen and Ellenore emerged from the trail on foot, Ellenore carrying a bundle of clothing that had to belong to Gabe.

Gretchen ogled Gabe’s bare buns as he disappeared into the shed.

“Hey.” Lorin snapped her fingers to get her attention.

“Wow. Who knew Gabe looked so great naked?”

“I did. Eyes front, ladies.”

“Here.” Ellenore handed over the wad of fabric, gingerly extending Gabe’s glasses by a mangled bow. “Sorry, I think I stepped on these.”

“I probably broke them myself when I dropped them to the ground,” Gabe grumbled.

Whether by luck or design, Gabe carried the red plastic first aid kit in front of his groin, covering the essentials but no more. Disregarding the clothes, he examined his glasses instead. The lenses and right bow were intact, so he put them on. They listed drunkenly—adorably—on the bridge of his nose.

“Better than nothing,” he said with a shrug.

Lorin snatched the bundle of clothes from Ellenore and thrust it at him. “Get dressed.” Ignoring Gretchen’s “you go, girl” smirk, she stepped in front of Gabe, blocking their view as he dragged on his discarded underwear and sweatpants, shoved his feet back into his running shoes, and yanked his T-shirt over his head.

She wanted nothing more than to find some privacy and reverse the sequence, stripping him completely, carefully examining every inch to make sure he was okay before losing herself in him for hours.

Gabe’s Bat Phone rang. Plucking it from the holder attached to his waistband, he looked at the display. “It’s Lukas.”

He’d probably sensed the fight. Crap, he must be worried sick.

“What happened?” Ellenore asked as Gabe answered the phone. “How the hell did a fire start up here?”

Lorin looked over to the crew, busy with fire extinguishers, shovels, and sand. The fire was nearly out, and it was just a matter of time before Mike and Nathan picked up the scent of the vamp’s spilled blood if they hadn’t already. The vamp’s weapon, lying under the orange crate not two feet away, beat like Poe’s telltale heart.

She couldn’t tell them the truth, damn it. She couldn’t tell them a thing. “Gabe and I were running, started playing around, and I dropped the kerosene lamp,” she said. “Stupid of me, I know.”

As they watched Nathan and Mike finish putting out the fire, Gretchen looked around the site with a frown. “Where’s Paige? Off with her vamp?”

Lorin bit back hysterical laughter.
Yeah, you could say that.

Gabe approached. “Gretchen, could you collect the empty fire extinguishers, make sure they get down to the workshop so they can be refilled?”

“Sure.”

He waited until Gretchen was out of hearing range. “Lukas wants us to collect what evidence we can, send pictures, and then call him once we get back to the cabin.” He sighed. “He isn’t happy with either of us.”

“Why?”

“He knew something was wrong, and neither of us answered our phones when he called.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “Can he really discern shifts in emotional energy at such a distance?”

She nodded.

Gabe looked to the sky. “We don’t have a lot of time. Good job, everyone,” he called to the crew. “Let’s finish up here, then get back to the bunkhouse.”

They scurried to respond. Gabe’s lecture-hall tone had derailed additional questions—for now, anyway.

“I’m sure Paige’s fine,” he said, drawing her into his arms.

She hugged him back, as tightly as she could, knowing he was trying to convince himself as much as her.

When Gabe dropped into a chair at the cabin’s small table a half hour later, he was struck by a distinct sense of déjà vu. Lorin paced, debating with Lukas via speakerphone, much like she had with Elliott the day he’d arrived at the dig.

Only this time, he wasn’t annoyed. He was stunned.

They were about to be shut down. He’d be going home. The writing was on the wall, and he had no idea what to do with this yawning hole in his stomach, deep as any quarry he’d ever explored. He’d counted on having the entire summer to ease Lorin into a relationship, to help her get over her skittishness, see that—

“Lorin, be reasonable,” Lukas snapped. “A student is missing. You can’t—”

“Do
not
tell me what I can’t do.” Lorin’s words were as crisp as hoarfrost. Being reamed out by Lukas for not answering her phone hadn’t exactly gotten the conversation off to a collegial start.

Elliot broke in. “Lorin, tell us exactly what happened.”

Gabe sighed, scrubbing his hands over his evening beard. Slouching in the ladder-backed chair, he gazed tiredly at the boxes he and Lorin had just lugged from the site, racing against the clock to gather as much evidence as they could before the thunderstorm boiling to the west washed everything away. After the crew left, they’d done their best in the dying light, taking pictures of the weapon, the spilled blood, and the burned grass
in
situ
, and zapping everything to Lukas. He’d called back immediately to advise them how to collect the blood-soaked soil and burned grass for later analysis.

Outside, the thunder rolled, matching Lorin’s glowering expression as her long strides ate up the floor. Dirt smudged her knees, her hair was a snarled mess, and a nasty bruise was developing on her cheekbone. She sported a trio of weeping, angry burns, and a thin trail of blood had dried on her neck, where the vamp’s fang had nicked her.

She was glorious—and she was staring right at him.

“Were you planning on joining this conversation anytime soon?” she hissed before turning back to the phone. She took a deep breath. “Lukas, I don’t think mobilizing a team tonight would accomplish anything. It’s about to start pouring. Gabe was shifted, and even he lost their trail.”

“Gabe?”

“There wasn’t even a trail to follow,” he admitted to Elliott. “It just… disappeared, just like they did. Lorin’s right. There’s nothing anyone can do here tonight.” And he wanted this night with Lorin. “You might want to send an environmental impact team. The weapon fired a… stream of something rather than shooting projectiles. The stream burns to the touch. Analysis of the grass should give us an idea of whether it’s chemical, electrical—”

“Gabe got hit,” Lorin blurted.

He glared at her. “And Lorin has some contact burns, but we’re both okay.” Truth be told, his ear burned like a bitch. Both he and Lorin had put off first aid so they could gather samples and clean up the scene before the rain started.

Lukas swore. “Lorin, why are you wasting your breath arguing with me about shutting the place down?”

“Show me your injuries.” Elliott’s curt tone brooked no disobedience.

“Elliott—”

“Pictures or video. We’ll wait.”

Lorin sighed. “Hold on.” She approached the table, picked up his Bat Phone, and stepped closer. Raising the device to her eye, she aimed. Then hesitated.

“What?”

“Your hair,” she murmured. “A piece of your hair is stuck in your wound. Let me loosen it with a wet—”

He flicked it out of the way, ignoring the sting.

“Okay, that wasn’t necessary.” She snapped several pictures and extended the phone to him. “Take mine.” Their gazes snagged as he took it from her hand. Despite the argument she’d been having with Lukas—hell, maybe because of it—he read her edgy, lusty intent.

Of
course.
After the night’s events, her adrenaline and hormone levels must be off the charts. How fricking convenient for her that he was here. “Turn around,” he rumbled. Was that his voice? Where was this seething, helpless anger coming from? “Let me get the back of your neck.”

She turned around and flipped her messy ponytail out of the way, exposing her supple nape. The contact burn was circular, about an inch in diameter, nearly cauterized around the edges. Wincing, he raised the phone with a hand that shook. Valkyries were known to have a high pain tolerance, but Lorin’s must be off the charts. Did she even feel her injuries? If she did, he couldn’t tell.

“Guys?”

He started at the sound of Lukas’s voice. “Yeah?”

“Swab all your wounds after we hang up. Use gauze pads from the first aid kit, one pad per wound. Put each one in its own Ziploc bag and label it.”

“Okay.”

She shuddered a tiny tremble. She was so sensitive on the nape of her neck. He’d mapped it with his tongue, caressed every baby tendril that curled at her hairline, and now he’d have to make do without—

“Gabe.”

Lukas’s patience was apparently coming to an end. Stabilizing his hand, he took the damn pictures and sent them. “Incoming.”

“Thanks.” Lukas paused, then said, “Lorin, you know we have to shut the site down. You and Gabe were attacked, and a student is missing. You have to get those kids out of there until we figure out what happened to Paige Scott.”

Guilt roiled like a polluted river. A student was missing on his watch. Lukas was right, and Lorin knew it as well as he did. He saw it in her posture and body language as she stared out of the window.

“Lukas. It’s full dark here, and the sky is about to split open. Having the crewmembers hop in their cars and drive south in a thunderstorm is a lot more risky than them staying here tonight.”

She’d accepted Lukas’s decree.

“Most of these kids sublet their apartments for the summer, or don’t have families in the area they can stay with until school starts again,” she continued. “We have to make sure everyone has a place to go.” A bolt of lightning cracked, punctuating her words. “We need until tomorrow, Lukas.”

She silently scrutinized him as Lukas and Elliott conferred in soft murmurs. “Okay,” Lukas finally responded. “We’ll mobilize a scene crew at first light.”

Being that he didn’t have his car here, he’d catch a ride home with Lukas tomorrow.

So that was that, then. They had tonight.

As Lukas instructed Lorin to put her clothing in a bag so they could process it for trace evidence, Gabe looked at the cabin that had become his home away from home: the stubborn stove. The chipped porcelain ladle used for dipping water from the pail. The picture she loathed still lying facedown on the bookshelf, now joined by a print he’d made of the shot he’d taken of Lorin and her mother that day in the lab. He wandered over to the bed, rumpled from their early morning lovemaking.

“So, we agree we’ll reassess this decision after you’ve analyzed the scene.”

“Yes.” Lukas’s response sounded like Lorin had pulled it from his throat with a pair of rusty pliers.

Gabe raised a brow. How had she managed
that
? How much of the conversation had he missed while he mooned like a lovesick pup?

“See you tomorrow, then.” She stabbed at the button to hang up. “Hell.” Crossing to the kitchen area, she snatched a box of Ziploc bags and a large paper sack off the open storage shelves, retrieved the first aid kit, and came over to the bed. “Can you open up some gauze pads?” she asked, handing him the first aid kit before shaking open the paper bag and setting it on the floor. “Crap. I really like this T-shirt, and I know I’ll never see it again.”

She peeled it off and dropped it in the bag, exposing her candy-colored bra.

A rumble of thunder shook the walls and floor, and spats of rain hit the roof. Gabe simply stared, savoring every second. Why had he taken their time together for granted?

“Gabe? What’s wrong?”

The work-rough fingertips she raised so tenderly to his cheekbone cleaved his chest in two. He sucked in a careful breath and schooled his expression. Turning away from her, he reached under the bed, extracting his duffel bag. “I should start packing.”

“What? Why?”

“The project’s been shut down, Lorin. You don’t need a PM anymore.”

Her throat slammed shut. Not need him? She still shook from watching that weapon nearly take his head off. She needed him like she needed her next pulse of blood, her next gasp of air. She grabbed his arm, whirling him back to face her. “What the hell are you talking about?”