Darker Than Desire (19 page)

And a knot settled in his throat.

He hadn't cried in more years than he could remember, not even when Abraham had died. He'd lost the ability, he'd thought, after that awful, brutal beating that left him in his bed for days while the long, thin slices on his back slowly healed.

But he wanted to weep.

*   *   *

“I never knew the two of you were such good friends.”

Sybil walked at his side, and when Louisa cut them off she was the one to speak while David stared at the older woman coldly. “Who, David and I?” Sybil asked, her voice bright, her smile sharp edged.

Louisa gave her a look that might have made some other women wither, but Sybil just cocked a brow.

“Hardly.” Louisa racked Sybil with a look. Although she wore a slim-fitting coat, the long, slim black column of a dress, sedate as it was, did nothing to hide the body beneath. “I imagine everybody knows what David is looking for with you, after how many years of living a restrained lifestyle with the Amish.”

David's lips peeled back from his teeth. Sybil squeezed his hand tightly. It was the only thing that kept him quiet. That and the memory of the grave behind him. But it was a fight to control the anger building up in his throat.

“I
meant
you and Max,” Louisa said, pasting a false smile on her face. “This must be even
harder
for you then. After everything you went through, losing somebody close to you. How awful you must feel.”

This time, not even that tight grip from Sybil could do it. Taking a step forward, David leaned in, studying Louisa's face. “Which one was it, Louisa? Your mom or your dad?”

She blinked, confusion heavy on her features. “Excuse me?”

“One of them went and fucked a hyena, to come up with a piece of work like you.” She went white and then red. Her hand came up and he caught her wrist before she could strike him. “You're out for blood, but you won't find it here. So just tuck your tail between your legs and get away from me. And
stay
away.” He flung her hand down like it was dirty and then led Sybil away while Louisa glared at him. He could feel the heat of that stare cutting between his shoulder blades. Uncaring, he kept walking until Noah's voice cut him off.

Blowing out a sigh, he looked at Sybil.

She reached up a hand. “If you don't want to stay, don't.”

“If it was anybody else, I wouldn't.” He shrugged and turned his head before looking back as a familiar figure caught his eyes. Was that—

Then he shook his head.
No.
Probably just the lack of sleep and everything else catching up with him.

Noah drew even with him, but his eyes didn't meet David's. Not right away. Noah was looking at Louisa, who had cut through the cemetery a different way and was standing there, waving her hands angrily as she talked to Chief Sorenson. Her voice was loud, the words carrying over the crowd.

“You brutalized her, huh? In broad daylight with all of us watching on?” Noah asked, lifting a brow.

“Oh, for f—” Sybil snapped her mouth shut and made a face at Noah. “That's utter crap. She went to slap him and he kept her from doing it.
I
ought to go assault her and show her the difference.”

Trinity arched her brows. “Can I watch?”

Noah ran his tongue across his teeth and looked at David.

If he expected any help from David's corner, he was looking in the wrong direction. The thought of seeing Sybil pissed was actually rather appealing.

“Not necessary,” Noah said, nodding to Sorenson. The chief had a hand on Louisa's shoulders and was leading her away. Already the strident tone of Louisa's voice was dying.

If he never had to hear her again, see her again, it would be too damn soon.

“The chief isn't going to listen to her, is he?” Trinity asked, moving in closer, keeping her voice low as she glanced around.

David didn't really give a damn. Noah was the one to answer and David looked up, skimming the crowd again, looking for that familiar figure in black. But he didn't catch a single glimpse.

“He's got too much sense to listen to Louisa's rambling,” Noah said, shrugging it off.

Or seeming to. David could feel his speculative study and knew if he looked over there Noah would be watching him like he could piece together everything just by staring at him long enough. Both him and Max, and the way they looked at people. Noah should have been the one related to that old man, not David, fucked-up mess that he was.

“There's a dinner—” Noah started to say.

David turned his head, stared into Noah's eyes and shook his head. “Don't bother.”

A faint smile tilted up one corner of the other man's mouth. “And here I was thinking you'd be jumping for joy at the idea.” He shrugged and looked away. “Just wanted to let you know you're welcome.”

Yeah, Noah might feel that way. Most others wouldn't. How many knew, he wondered. How many knew that he was Max's grandson?

Sorenson and Detective Bell knew. He'd told the detective and Sorenson had figured it out. Had others?

Somehow he doubted it. If people had known, it would have gotten around.

Aware that Noah was still watching him, he looked away. The thought of sitting around, listening while people speculated or gossiped made his gut churn. Worse, the thought of being around the people who'd loved the old man and
could
talk freely about their memories …

No. The last thing David wanted right then was to be around people.

Sybil stroked one thumb down his hand and instinctively he squeezed. She returned the gesture and he had to amend his thought. There was one person he wanted to be around just then. Only one. Turning his head, he studied her face. If she wanted to go, he'd go, just because the thought of not being around her was even worse than the thought of being around others. “Were you going to go?” he asked quietly.

“I came for you.” She reached up with her free hand and stroked his cheek. “I go where you go.”

Those words, so easily stated, sent another rush of emotion through him. With a short nod, he glanced at Noah. “I'm done here, then.” He started to walk and then stopped. Without looking back at the man behind him, he said quietly, “You did good by him. Thanks for that.”

*   *   *

It was a slow, mostly silent walk, especially the first twenty minutes. They stopped at a cross street and David looked at Sybil for the first time when she pulled her hand from his.

She gave him a rueful grin as she tugged something from her coat pocket. “It's a good thing I know you.”

That didn't click until he saw her pull out a narrow pair of slipper-like shoes from a pouch and swap them out in place of her heels. She put the stilt-like shoes in one hand and then took his hand, sighing a little in relief.

“We could have taken your car,” he said as something he recognized as guilt worked through him.

“Difficult.” She slid him a sideways smile. “I caught a ride with Trinity and Noah. I…” Her words trailed off and she shrugged. “Well, I figured you'd be there and I wanted to be with you in case you needed me.”

This time, he was the one to stop.

In case you needed me
.

Words rose in him, trapping in his throat as he turned to face her.

They were still close to two miles from the little house where Max had lived all these years. Brilliant streams of sunlight shone down around them and cars passed by, but all David saw was her. Reaching up, he threaded his fingers through her hair, cupped her face.

He opened his mouth, trying to figure out the way to say everything pent up inside. He wasn't a man who
cared
about words—they meant little, in his mind. Except what she'd just done proved him wrong. A few gentle words could somehow slash into him and yet flood him with something …
indescribable
.

Leaning in, he pressed his mouth to her forehead while a war waged inside him. He thought back to the first time he'd seen her, the fury that had lit inside him when he realized what he'd come across. The defiance and fear and anger he'd seen reflected in her eyes. The way she'd smiled at him the next time they met. Then, the third time, when he'd thought he was being casual about it and she gave him that slow,
I see what you did there
look.

It started then, he realized.

When he started to feel again he'd thought it was just lust and he'd welcomed it. Lust was a
normal
thing. He hadn't felt it, not really, until she'd given him that slow, sure smile of hers and he'd thought about covering that red-slicked mouth with his own, fantasies that he hadn't entertained in … ever. He'd never had them.

He'd fed that hot, hungry feeling then, let it consume him, but he'd never really noticed everything that grew along with it. The obsession. The
need
.

“You're in my blood, in my soul. I can't remember a time anymore when I didn't need you,” he whispered, the words slipping from him without him even realizing it.

Sybil tensed, a startled sound slipping from her.

He lifted his head and watched her from under his lashes. “I made Samuel put in that bid on your studio,” he said.

*   *   *

Well, well, well. Sybil walked into the studio and all but dropped her jaw. Okay, yes, she'd known the group the contractor had gotten for most of the construction was one of the Amish families out of Switzerland County, but Caine was with the crew?

What were the odds?

He hadn't so much as looked at her, but she recognized him—
would
recognize him, no matter what, whether it was a dimly lit street and he was striding down the street with more confidence than any man should have or he was here, among the rest of the quiet, soft-spoken men, like a wolf among sheep.

In that very moment, he looked up and, as if he was surprised to see her, he blinked and cocked his head, then just nodded.

But she saw it, in just that moment, that he wasn't surprised.

He'd known this was her place. Once they were done, it would be her studio, and she planned on making something of it.

She smiled back and lifted a brow.

He kept his face blank, a shutter falling across his features, but she didn't let it get to her.

He was here.

What to do about that?

*   *   *

That memory, more than a dozen years old, slammed into her and she reached up, curling one hand into the thick woven material of the black sweater he wore. It was scratchy soft under her hand, the heat of his skin like a furnace.

“Samuel?”

He shrugged restlessly, a gesture that was out of place on him. “He was Thom's father. Used to head up the crew before I took over. Thom is going to be taking over now, I guess. I asked Sam to take the job. Actually, I convinced Abraham to talk him into it.”

“And why did you do that?”

He pressed his face into her hair and she shivered at the feel of his breath teasing her skin. He mistook it for cold and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “Because I wanted to be around you. It was a weird thing for me. I never cared if I was around anybody or not—no. That's not right. I preferred
not
to be around people, but on that job, I tried to get the inside work as much as I could. Abraham heard about it, thought maybe I was…”

Sybil turned her head slightly toward him, rubbing her cheek against his when she felt the rasping brush of his stubble. “Getting better,” she murmured. “But there's no getting better. It's not like you had a cold, is it?”

“More like cancer.”

“They're the cancer.” She stiffened and lifted her hands to his face, forcing him to meet her eyes. “
Them
. Not you.”

*   *   *

Volatile emotion sparked in her eyes, but for the first time in he didn't know how long he had a hard time meeting her eyes.
Them.…

Sometimes he deliberately fooled himself, especially lately. Always with her. She'd known—always known. He'd tried so hard to keep those broken pieces of himself hidden, but she'd seen them anyway. Now, aware of her vivid stare, as he let himself fully acknowledge that, he let some of the bitterness he felt spill out.

“Yeah. They were a cancer. And they spread it around.” He caught one of her wrists, dragged it down as he continued to watch her, stroking a finger across the inside of her skin. “You see so much, Syb. You always did. When did you figure everything out? How long have you known?”

She blinked, looking confused.

He advanced on her, moving his hands to her waist and urging her back, back, back until she bumped up against the brick wall of the building behind her. “Did you just look at me that first time, the second time, or was it the third time when you realized how completely fucked-up I was inside?”

“Exactly where are you going with this?” she asked, her voice level.

“When did you know?” Bracing a forearm on the wall by her head, he dipped his head until their eyes were on the same level. He'd never been able to figure it out, why she could stand to be around him, put up with him. He'd never figured it out.

Her gaze met his. Then she angled her chin up and narrowed her eyes. “I figured something pretty shitty had happened to you the first time we had sex. Those scars all over your back didn't exactly happen because
boys will be boys
, right?”

Something twisted inside him and he swallowed in his throat. “You didn't know.…”

Sybil heaved out a breath, the motion causing her breasts to rise and fall. “Hell, David. What did you think was going on here? Some sort of marathon session of pity fucks?” She curled her lip as she said the words and they fell distastefully from her lips.