Cover of Darkness (30 page)

Knowing it was the wrong thing to do, with an unsteady hand he flipped the phone open and put it to his ear. "Hello."

He braced himself for her voice, the wave of pain it sent through his chest.

"Luke, hi," she said in her soft Charleston accent. "It's Emily."

Yeah, like he wouldn't know that voice even in a coma. "Hi, Em. You okay?" He wondered who had died this time.

"I'm fine, thanks. I just... Well, I was actually wondering about Bryn, and I thought you might know how she is."

Oh, so that was it. "She's okay." Hopefully Dec was with her, taking care of her right now. For some reason he needed to keep talking to Emily, to unload some of the weight from his shoulders. "We had to take her with us on an op today."

"Oh. Everything...go all right?" He caught the hesitation as she sent out the gentle probe.

"No, actually." He couldn't say more, but it eased him to tell her that much.

"I'm so sorry, Luke. Is everyone okay?"

"Pretty much."

Silence stretched over the line. "How about...how about you?"

God, she broke his heart with her kindness, she really did.

Finally, and without knowing why, he said, "I'm tired, Em."

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She gave a murmur of sympathy that made him feel like a shit for burdening her with his baggage. "You've been out there for so long now, you must be tired. You're not getting any younger, you know."

He uttered a quiet laugh. "Tell me. I was just thinking about that."

"You gonna retire?" The hopeful tone had caution bells clanging in his head.

"Not in the normal sense." No, there would never be a normal anything for him again. "I was thinking of getting out of the field, though. Maybe open up a permanent facility back home, hang out my shingle. After I take a vacation. I think I need a vacation." Why the hell was he telling her this? Like he was putting out feelers—

"I think you should, Luke. It's time you had a life again."

With me.
He heard the words as clearly as if she'd spoken them.

His guts clenched. Oh, shit, this was like trying to maneuver through a minefield. Time to employ some escape and evasion tactics. "Yeah. Listen, I'll get Bryn to call you, okay?"

He could almost imagine her closing her eyes and biting her lip in disappointment.

Finally, she spoke again. "Is she really okay Luke?"

"She will be."

"Are you—I mean, do you think you should go and see—"

"She's not alone, if that's what you're wondering."

"Okay. Ah, that's...good." He could almost hear the gears turning in her head. "Who's with her?"

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One side of his mouth lifted in a grin. Emily was gonna love this. "One of my guys." Her protest had him biting back a chuckle. "Don't worry, it's good. I wouldn't have sent him to her if I didn't approve."

She made a throttled sound. "Luke—"

"Trust me, she's in good hands."

"Is it Declan?"

He shouldn't have been surprised. Bryn must have told her about him. "Yeah."

Emily's laughter flowed over him like cool, clean water.

"My God, I can't believe you're playing cupid!"

He flinched. "Oh, hey, let's not take it that far. I have to maintain the reputation of a heartless asshole."

"Yeah, well, you know that won't wash with me."

He'd set himself up for that one. She was tenacious, if nothing else—almost as bad as him, when she set her mind on something.

"So, you coming home soon?"

"Maybe after this operation, for a bit."
Nope, don't ask.

You don't want to know, so don't—
"Why?" God, he was a sucker for punishment.

"Oh, nothing. Just thought if you were coming back and hanging up a shingle, maybe we could..."

She wouldn't—

"...go for dinner sometime."

Luke exhaled the breath he'd been holding. For God's sake, even after all he'd put her through, even though he knew she expected him to shut her down, she'd reached out to him. Christ, his eyes were stinging. "Em, I—" His phone 284

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beeped, and he jerked it away to check the call waiting number. The TOC. "Oh, damn it...Em, I'm sorry, but I have to take this."

"O-okay," she stammered, and he hated hurting her yet again, even in that small way.

Then he surprised himself by saying, "I'll call you later if I can, all right?" Could be days, though. Or never.

"Sure, of course." She sounded unconvinced. "Take care of yourself, Luke."

"You too, Em. Bye." He connected to the next call, willing his heart to stop pounding, wrestling his brain into work mode. "Hutchinson." As the voice on the other end spoke, he found himself tensing again. "You sure? Okay. Yeah. Got it."

Hanging up, he stretched out on the bed, blew out a breath and contemplated his options.

He'd suspected it. Had even planned some contingencies in case he was proved right. Man, he hated being right sometimes. Nothing to do now but deal with the situation.

Someone on his team had turned to the dark side.

When Dec knocked on Bryn's door, she didn't answer.

After calling her name and waiting a few seconds, he figured she must still be in the bathroom and used her extra key. The shower was running behind the closed ensuite door. How long had she been in there now? Long enough to have a good cry by herself.

"Bryn?"

No answer.

He knocked. "Bryn, you okay in there?"

"F-fine."

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She didn't sound fine, but he'd give her some more time.

Four minutes passed, then five, and still the water ran. "Bryn, say something."

"I'm f-fine," she repeated.

More time passed, and with each minute, his tension levels increased until his gut was tied in knots. "All right, that's it.

I'm coming in," he warned, and jimmied the lock free. A cloud of steam hit him, thick and humid as it wafted from behind the shower curtain. She didn't say a word, didn't give the slightest indication she was aware he'd intruded on her privacy. "Bryn, tell me you're okay at least."

"I'm ok-kay."

The hell she was. He covered the four steps to the bathtub and gripped the edge of the plastic curtain. When she made no objection he grew really worried and pulled it aside to peek in.

She huddled in the tub, fully clothed, directly under the spray of scalding water. Her dark eyes were haunted as she gazed up at him, arms wrapped around herself, shaking, her hair plastered to her skull. "I'm fine. J-just cold."

Something twisted in his chest, as though a giant fist had reached in and squeezed his heart. "Baby," he whispered.

Unlacing his boots, he tossed them aside and climbed in beside her, fully clothed, squeezing against the wall to pull her into his arms. She burrowed into him like a frightened child waking from a nightmare. Only she hadn't been dreaming.

Heart aching for her, he held her tight, her shivers wracking them. The water beat down on them and he bent 286

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over her, sheltering her from the full brunt. Her fingers curled into his wet shirt. Her face pressed against the base of his throat, warm breath washing over his sensitized skin. He stroked one hand down her hair and the length of her spine, marveling at how perfectly she fit against him. She calmed, her breathing becoming slow and even, the convulsive shudders subsiding. Then she sighed and leaned her weight against him as though content to remain in his arms under the cooling flow of water. His body, however, was raging hot.

If he didn't put some distance between them soon, he wasn't sure he could hold back.

"Better now? Want me to order us some food while you get out of these wet clothes?"

"Thanks."

"Okay." But she didn't move. In fact, she didn't seem in a hurry to go anywhere. She turned her face into his neck and nuzzled him, setting every nerve ending on fire. Her lips touched a kiss under his ear, making his growing erection jerk. Not good.

He set her away from him, surging to his feet and grabbing a towel to drape around her. "I'll let you dry yourself off," he blurted, snagging another towel for himself, stripping off his soaked t-shirt and tossing it in the sink on his way out. When he shut the door behind him, he leaned against it and took a deep breath, scrubbed a hand over his face. God. Another second in there with her and it would have been too late. As it was, his hand was shaking as he picked up the phone and dialed room service.

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He rubbed the towel over his hair, peeled off his pants and underwear, then wrapped the towel around his waist, flopping down on the bed while he waited to place his order. Bryn wasn't thinking straight right now, he reminded himself. She needed soothing, to feel safe and protected, and she needed sleep. Shoving her down onto the mattress and getting inside her as deep as he could get wasn't going to help matters.

Maybe something light to eat, fruit and cheese and bread or something, to settle her stomach and help her unwind.

He'd have to check out some of the more serious cuts and scrapes she'd suffered, too. Maybe rub her neck for a while.

Then he'd tuck the covers around her and stay while she slept, so she wouldn't be alone—just in case she had nightmares. He knew how much of a bitch flashbacks could be.

Still on hold, he turned his head at the sound of the bathroom door opening, and the air sucked right out of his lungs. Bryn stood backlit in the doorway, stark naked, every gorgeous line of her body silhouetted in eye-popping relief.

Her black gaze stroked over him like a caress, bold and possessive as she crossed the room toward him in a movement he could only describe as a prowl. His penis leapt to urgent attention.

A voice came on the other end of the line, but Dec didn't hear a thing besides the roaring in his ears. He dropped the receiver into the cradle with a clack, his heart thudding against his ribs.

Oh, shit. He was so screwed.

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She'd shocked him, she thought with satisfaction. Good.

She liked that, for once, he was the one to be off balance.

And it was high time they did something about the sexual energy between them. Almost giddy with feminine power, she stalked toward him. As he dropped the phone into place and sat up, his expression hovered between alert and wary.

Yes. Be afraid, Declan. Be very afraid.

She was going to eat him alive.

Pulse hammering in anticipation, she flicked her hair over her shoulder, holding his gaze as she tossed a handful of condoms onto the coverlet. He opened his mouth as if to protest, and she cocked an eyebrow at him, daring him to chicken out.

Coming close enough that her thighs brushed his knees, she placed a hand on either side of his towel-clad hips and leaned down to press her breasts against his chest. His heart beat fast against her as she rubbed against him, a feline move of enjoyment. A gasp escaped her as sensation rocketed through her, his eyes molten as he stared back at her. She bent her head and with exquisite precision, covered his mouth with hers.

He pulled back. "Bryn..."

She caressed him, hands roving over the taut muscles of his chest, back and shoulders. His bright gaze held an unnerving mix of lust and anger. He hadn't touched her yet, his hands remaining clenched on his lap, but the tension pulsed from him in waves. The air in the room crackled with it.

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He made no move to push her away, so she kissed him again, licking and nibbling his mouth as the ache in her lower body intensified to a relentless throb. She rubbed her tongue against his, teasing, coaxing, then let her hands drift down his chest and belly to the erection straining against the towel.

She stroked him, thrilling at the intake of his breath, then squeezed him through the thin terry cloth.

He snatched her hand and she stopped, pulling back. His eyes burned into hers, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

Breathless, she stared down at him, waiting.

"No," he rasped. "Not like this."

"Not like what?"

His hands moved up to grasp her shoulders, holding her away from him. "Not when you're hurting and jacked up on adrenaline."

Pain spiked her chest. He had no right to analyze her. The emotions rolled through her blood. Anger, grief, longing, despair. Need. She pulled in a deep breath, fighting the urge to wrestle him to the sheets and ride him until she wore off some of the submerged emotions battering her. She couldn't stop this, would die if she did.

"Bryn..."

She leaned down and kissed him some more, willing him to unlock everything bottled inside her. Her lips trailed over his clean-shaven jaw, down his neck, nibbling where the base of his throat joined his shoulder. He tilted his head back, one hand fisting in her hair to hold her there. A groan escaped him. "Baby, this is such a bad idea. You're not thinking straight."

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The hell she wasn't. She
needed
him.

She pushed him backward. He didn't fight her, lying on his back with his hands tangled in her hair. Her fingers caressed him, her tongue flicking as she moved lower, over the plane of his stomach, dipping into his navel. The muscles under her mouth went rigid and she rubbed her breasts against him, shivering while her hands slid over his hips, unknotting the towel with unsteady fingers. His penis sprang free, swollen against his abdomen. She licked her lips and stroked him, dying to taste him, to make him writhe and come in her mouth. Rubbing her cheek against the hot length of him, she let him see it in her eyes.

"Christ," he breathed, fingers clenching in her hair.

Here was her power, she thought, kissing the tip of him, licking at him, slow and torturous. He hissed out a breath.