Nothing to Fear (40 page)

“She lied, Dana.” Max’s voice was tight. “It was the woman who has Evie, wasn’t it?”

Her pulse, which had started to slow with relief, started to race again. Sue had tried to lure her out. “It might have been,” she whispered. “What if it was really Nurse Simmons?”

“Are you with Buchanan?” Max bit out.

Dana looked at Ethan, fear clawing at her insides. Please not another one. “Yes.”

“Put him on. Now.”

She handed the phone to Ethan. “It’s Max Hunter.”

Ethan listened, his eyes fastened on Dana’s face. “I won’t. Don’t worry . . . I didn’t expect she’d buy it, but it was worth a try . . . Sure. Thanks.” He ended the call. “Call Mia. Now.”

Dana’s hands shook worse than before. Mia answered on the third ring, her voice husky with sleep. “Mia, it’s Dana.”

Mia’s response to the news was much as Max’s had been. “I’m on it. I’ll dump the LUDs from your cell and see if I can get a location of her call, but I’m betting she’s watching the hospital entrance, waiting for you. I’ll call Abe and we’ll check it out ourselves. Are you with Buchanan?”

“Yes,” Dana gritted through her teeth. “And I won’t go anywhere by myself.”

Mia sighed. “I’m sorry, Dana. I’m just worried about you. I’m your friend. I’m allowed.”

“Just find her, Mia. And call me if you find Nurse Simmons. Please. I need to know.”

“All right. Stay where you are. I’ll order an hourly drive-by on Max’s mother’s street.”

Dana’s heart stopped. Just . . . stopped. “You think she’ll try again?”

Mia hesitated. “How do you think she knew Simmons was Caroline’s nurse?”

Dana covered her mouth, horrified. Helpless. “She was in the hospital. Near Caroline.” One look at Ethan’s grim face let her know he’d already come to the same conclusion.

“We’ll check it out,” Mia promised. “Do not go anywhere by yourself.”

“I won’t.” Carefully she hung up the phone. “Simmons is dead, isn’t she, Ethan?”

Ethan pulled her close, pressed her cheek into his chest where his heart beat steadily. “Maybe. Let’s not borrow trouble. I need to be sure Randi hasn’t received any calls.” Not letting her go, he dialed the Vaughns’ room, had a brief conversation with Stan Vaughn. Turning off the lamp he slid them both down to the pillows, holding her just a little too tight.

It didn’t matter. She held on to him just as tightly. A fist of fear grabbed her by the throat. “She tried to lure me.”

“I know, honey.” The gentle words were at stark contrast to the tensing of his body. “But she won’t get you.”

“She was close to Caroline.” Dana could hear the panic rising in her own voice.

One hand came up to cup her jaw. “She won’t get her, either.”

No, she won’t. Max won’t let her. Mia won’t let her. Caro is safe. “What did Max say?”

“That we didn’t fool Caroline with the story of you being too busy to come over tonight. She knows something’s wrong. Max told her the truth.”

“Okay.” She found herself breathing to the rhythm of his steady heartbeat.

“Do . . . Do you want to talk about it?” he asked quietly.

“It” needed no clarification. The big bomb. The one thing she’d never planned to reveal. Yet she had and it needed explanation. But the nightmare was still too fresh. The vision of the face too disturbing to contemplate in her current state. Dana had learned long ago to compartmentalize her fears. She did so now, knowing the lock on the box was a fragile one. “Not yet. Please don’t be angry with me. I just . . . Not yet.”

“I’m not angry, Dana.” He sounded more sad and that was worse than anger. Still his sadness was better than his contempt. Compartmentalize. Refocus. New subject.

“Did Randi get another call?”

“No. Stan said he’d finally made her take a sleeping pill when she didn’t fall asleep on her own, but that he was keeping watch. He said Sheriff Moore had her deputy change the beach house phone to forward to Stan’s cell phone instead of hers.”

“I liked Sheriff Moore.”

“I’ll like her a hell of a lot more if Clay comes out of this with his license intact.”

“Why did Clay stop being a cop?”

His little sigh told her he knew she was doing the avoidance dance, but that he’d go along with it. For now. “Claimed burnout. I think he did it partly for me. Said he’d been thinking about leaving the force and since I was at loose ends, why not go into business?”

Dana felt a sudden surge of gratitude to Clay Maynard. “I liked Clay, too.”

“Most women do,” Ethan said wryly and Dana lifted her head to see his face.

“That’s not what I meant.”

He locked his eyes on hers. “Good.”

The single whispered syllable had her gaze dropping to his mouth. Inches from hers. She could have it. His mouth. She knew she could have every last inch of him if she chose. Did she? Could she? She didn’t know. She only knew that in covering his mouth with hers she could put off the terrors that lurked at the fringes of her mind.

His hand slid across the back of her neck. Warm and strong. Sending a hard shiver pulsing down her spine. But not forcing her one way or the other. Which was exactly the push she needed to close the distance between them.

He jumped when her lips touched his, his whole body tensing, arching. His hand pulled her down into the kiss until together they’d taken it from sweet to sensual. Both his hands now gripped her face, positioning it one way, then another, each movement further perfecting their fit. Her heart was pounding in her ears, her blood rushing. The very core of her body throbbing. And he touched her nowhere but her lips and face.

She lifted her head, breathing hard. So was he. His eyes glittered in the darkness. But he didn’t ask. He wouldn’t. He’d made that clear. He wanted her. He was wired that way. God help me, so am I. She needed this. For just a little while. Then she’d face the world again. The threats inside her mind and out. Both were real. Both were hideous. She’d steal some peace. Just for a little while.

She splayed one hand on his chest, the golden hair tickling her palm and his eyes flashed. She moved her hand lower, the iron ridges of his abdomen flexing as his body tightened. His hand covered hers. “We don’t have to do this.”

He’d make her say it then. “Please, Ethan.” She closed her eyes, rested her forehead against his chin. “I don’t want to go back to sleep. I can’t. Not yet.”

He moved suddenly, quickly rolling her to her back. Looming over her. His breath driving his chest hard and fast. “Be sure.”

“I’m sure.”

Abruptly he straddled her hips, her sweatshirt fisted in his hands. “What do you want?”

Arousal swelled. Stunned. Anything. Everything. “You.”

He jerked the shirt over her head. Threw it to the floor. And in a single movement slid down, prone against her, his mouth on her breast. Greedy. God, so greedy.

She cried out. Arched into him and he sucked harder, pain and pleasure all rolled into one moment in time. A moment he stretched out, then started all over again when he moved to her other breast. Her fingers dug through his hair, pulling him closer. Her heels dug into the mattress and she pushed her pelvis into the rock hardness of his chest. She throbbed, she ached. She needed him. “Ethan, please.”

He released her breast, moved down her torso, kissing and licking and setting every little area of skin he touched on fire. Reached the elastic waistband of her sweats and in another of his graceful movements, rolled off her, yanked the pants down her legs, and rolled back between her thighs. And hovered there.

She could feel the heat of his breath just there . . . where she wanted him. “Ethan.”

He lifted his head, stared up at her. His lips a fraction of an inch from where she wanted him. “I want you to forget everything,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Everything but me.” He kissed the tender flesh of her inner thigh and her muscles quivered from the strain of holding back. “Just remember me.” He kissed the other thigh and she moaned.

Then flicked at her with the tip of his tongue and she gasped.

Then his mouth was on her and she forgot to breathe. The pleasure was . . . sharp, vicious, it had claws, digging deep. Unwavering, it drove her higher and higher until all she could hear was the sound of her own breath, sobbing, begging. Then the shimmer grew and grew until it was a blinding flash, and everything unraveled in a fury of sensation and light and pleasure.

She was gasping for air when the weight on her legs disappeared. She struggled to open her eyes to find him standing at the nightstand, yanking the drawer, a grimace of pain on his face as he pulled a condom out of the box. Her eyes dropped to the waistband of his boxers where she could see the tip of his erection straining for freedom.

In awe, she watched him shuck off his boxers and with shaking hands slide the condom into place. Then he was on all fours on the bed, hanging over her, his eyes burning into hers. “Look at me,” he muttered. “Think of me. Just of me.”

“I am. I will. Please, Ethan.”

Then he was easing inside her, shuddering his relief. “Oh, God.” He dragged in a breath, his shoulders sagging, his powerful biceps supporting his weight. “I needed this. I needed you.” Then he was thrusting, going deeper when she raised her legs to flank his hips, drawing a guttural groan from deep within his chest. She gave a cry of surprised delight when he undulated, stroking her internal muscles with thorough precision.

His smile was razor sharp. “You like that?”

“Yes.” Her voice was like a stranger’s, husky and deep. Then he did it again and she could only moan. Which seemed to catapult him into full throttle, his hips pistoning so hard she could only hang on to his shoulders helplessly as sensation once again layered, climbed . . . And shattered. Bracing her heels on his thighs she arched just as he thrust. And came. Soundlessly. Magnificently. His muscles straining. Teeth bared.

He collapsed onto his forearms, his face buried in the curve of her shoulder, his heart pounding to beat all hell, his chest heaving against her as he struggled to breathe. Minutes passed before he spoke and when he did it was in a voice that sounded like dry sandpaper. “My God.”

Completely spent, she ran a hand down the hard plane of his back. Pressed a kiss to his shoulder, his jaw. Anything she could reach without moving. Guilt would come at some point, she thought. Guilt for enjoying such awesome pleasure while someone she loved suffered. But now, there was only exhaustion. Exhaustion and some measure of peace.

Eventually Ethan roused himself, disappeared into the bathroom. When he came back he tucked her up against him, his arm wrapped around her waist in a gesture that was purely proprietary. His hand slipped up to cup her breast and she sighed, replete.

“Go to sleep now.” He kissed her shoulder. “No dreams. Tomorrow we’ll find them.”

She drifted off, praying he’d be right.

Chicago, Thursday, August 5, 4:30 A.M.

Sue watched the hospital entrance from her car parked across the street, annoyance mounting with each minute that passed. Dupinsky hadn’t shown up. The bitch knew she’d been set up. With a frown she saw a car drive through the parking lot outside the front entrance. The car had driven past before, she was sure of it. That kind of careful drive-by meant only one thing—cops. Not only had Dupinsky known, she’d called the damn cops.

With a snarl, Sue carefully pulled her car into traffic. She’d thought it unlikely Dupinsky would call the hospital before she rushed over from wherever she’d holed up. The woman seemed to live by her intuition, which should have been haywire hearing that sweet Caroline’s baby was dead. Dammit. And she’d thought she sounded so convincing, too.

Adopt, adapt, and improve. She needed a different way to get to Dupinsky, that was all. By the time she was through, Dupinsky would know what it was like to be meddled with.

Chicago, Thursday, August 5, 5:15 A.M.

The kid was damn resourceful, Evie thought. After falling through the door he’d sunk to the floor in a heap, and she’d thought he’d passed out. It would be no wonder if he had. That poor baby hadn’t eaten properly in days, his only decent meal in at least a week the one she’d given him herself the morning before as they’d waited for Sandy. She’d watched him lie there on the floor, helpless to do anything for him. But Erik wasn’t passed out, or if he had been, he’d come to.

Then she’d been treated to the greatest show of sheer determination she’d ever seen as he’d slowly, hands and feet bound, methodically worked his way to the sink where he’d managed to turn the faucets with his nose and chin. He’d been letting the water run over the tape covering his mouth for some time now, stopping for a minute to press his face to the edge of the counter and scrape. Over and over, he scraped until the tape began to give. A few times he’d fallen to the bathroom floor, but he would lie there for a moment, then roll to his knees and start inching his way back to his feet, back to the sink. Finally, he worked an opening in the tape big enough to breathe because she heard his lungs rasp and rattle. Then he drank, audible gulps that made her remember how long it had been since she’d had water.

He gave one last scrape against the counter’s edge and his mouth was visible, the tape hanging off his chin. He turned to look at her and the fierce pride in his eyes made her want to smile. But the tape still held her lips firm, so she gave him a hard nod instead.

He dropped to his knees next to the tub, frowning in concentration. His teeth clamped his lower lip, biting hard. Then he opened his mouth.

And spoke. “Ebie hut?”

Evie blinked, astonished. He spoke. After six days of silence, this child spoke. Hut? Hurt. Her eyes stung. After all he’d been through, his first words were to ask if she was hurt. She shook her head, then leaning forward, tilted it. You?

He smiled grimly, but with intense satisfaction. Then he shook his head. “No.” That word was very clear and she wondered why he hadn’t used it before. Bracing himself, he leaned over the side of the tub, sliding until the top half of his body rested on the tub’s edge, then with a grunt, toppled himself over the edge. He lay next to her legs, breathing hard.

A moment later he was on his knees, his mouth on her cheek, his teeth scraping at the tape that covered her mouth. After a few seconds, he leaned back, his thin chest heaving. But his eyes were determined. She could only nod in encouragement, but that seemed enough. He set his teeth on the tape again and after a few more attempts was finally able to catch an edge. He whipped his head back, yanking at the tape.