Secret Worlds (507 page)

I was okay. I was alive.

A loud, hiccupping sob erupted from me as I threw my arms around Holbrook’s shoulders and buried my face in the curve of his neck, heedless of the scratch of his stubble against my wet cheeks. I could feel the eyes of the other agents on me, judging me, but I didn’t care. They could think I was just being a silly little girl if they wanted to.

“It was just a dream. You’re safe,” Holbrook whispered against my ear, running a hand up and down my back.

I nodded, but my fear still lingered. I wasn’t so sure.

“It was so real,” I said, my voice muffled against his skin.

Sucking in a shaking breath, I was immersed in his sugary scent, a smell that was rapidly becoming familiar and comfortable, loosening the knot of worry in my stomach enough that I didn’t feel like I was in danger of painting the back of his shirt with my dinner.

After a long while, when my near hysterical sobs had been reduced to the occasional snuffling hiccup, he asked “Can you stand?”

“I think so.”

With his hands wrapped around my arms, Holbrook drew me up to my feet. I was grateful for his support as I swayed on legs that felt as though they had been made of rubber.

“Is everything all right, Sir?” one of my bodyguards asked from the doorway. I wasn’t sure if it was Collins or Hill; with their matching unflappable expressions fixed firmly in place they may as well have been clones.

“We’re fine. Thanks, Collins,” Holbrook said, glancing over his shoulder at the other agents. “We’re okay, aren’t we Riley?” he asked, turning back to me.

After a pause, I nodded slowly. The agents didn’t look convinced, but they nodded in unison and stepped back out into the hallway, resuming their watchdog positions on either side of the door. I flinched when the door slammed shut behind them, but Holbrook’s hands were still there, rubbing up and down my arms, trying to comfort me like a terrified child who had awoken from a nightmare. Unlike a child, my monsters didn’t disappear along with the dreams.

“I’m sorry. I have bad dreams all the time, but this was different. It was so real. I could feel his hunger, could feel…” I faltered, swiping at the moisture in my eyes. “It was so real.”

“It’s alright. Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, leading me into the bathroom and directing me to sit on the toilet lid as he ran a cloth under the water.

I sighed in relief when he pressed the cool cloth to the back of my neck, wiping away the sweat that had dampened the curls at the nape of my neck. Removing the rag from my neck he ran it under the water again before laying it across my forehead. Closing my eyes, I took several deep breaths, willing my heartbeat to slow, and finally calmed down to the point where I thought I could stand if I had to.

“Better?” he asked, peeling the damp cloth away from my skin and dropping it in the sink.

“Yes. Thank you,” I replied, daring to glance up at him.

Instead of the pity I expected to see in his eyes, I found concern and a hint of something else—something far more hard edged and unwavering. Whatever other emotions were beginning to build between this man and myself, he fairly burned with protectiveness.

Snagging the sealed glass from beside the faucet, he tore open the plastic baggie to fill it with water. Gratefully, I drank deeply, not realizing how thirsty I was until the cool water hit my tongue. I drained the small glass in two long gulps and handed it back to him, asking for more.

“Okay, slow down before you make yourself sick,” he warned when I was on my third glass and my thirst showed no signs of slacking.

“So thirsty,” I murmured as I sucked the last drop of water from the rim of the glass, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth.

“Why don’t you get some sleep, and if you’re still thirsty in the morning I’ll get you a Big Gulp. Deal?”

I nodded as I reluctantly set down the glass.

Following me back out into the room, Holbrook watched as I stripped down to my underwear, not wanting to be surrounded by the sourness of my fear, and pulled back the covers to slide in between the sheets. The motel sheets were scratchy but blessedly cool as I stretched out, curling my arms around one of the pillows.

I watched through slit eyes as he reached for the lamp, letting my lids close when his fingers curled around the knob.

“Holbrook?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you stay with me?” I asked in a tentative voice, not daring to open my eyes.

His answer was almost lost beneath the sharp click of the lamp. “Sure.”

As he stretched out behind me, curling one arm over my hip to press the flat of his hand against my stomach, Loki hopped up on the other side of the bed to curl up against my thighs. Wedged between them, my two fearless guardians, I settled in against the pillows and closed my eyes. Sleep came quickly, sweeping me up and carrying me off into dreams that were blessedly devoid of blood and death.

SUNLIGHT ANGLING THROUGH the gap between the drapes woke me, turning the insides of my eyelids into a fiery kaleidoscope of orange and red. Blinking against the light, I yawned wide and then spluttered when Loki’s swishing tail landed in my open mouth. I swear the damn cat treats it like a game, trying to see if he can aim his tail to land in my mouth or smack me in the face.

Spitting hairs, I pushed his furry ass away from my face and stretched with a shuddering groan that sent tremors all the way down to my toes. Rolling over, I found the other side of the bed empty, and stretching out a hand over the sheets discovered that they were cool to the touch.

So much for watching over me all night.

Flopping back on my pillow, my jaw tightening with frustration, I huffed a stray curl out of my face and stared up at the ceiling. I would not cry; I would not let Holbrook’s desertion prick at my tender emotions.

“Men suck.”

Throwing back the covers I launched myself out of bed before the first tear could roll traitorously down my cheek. Loki meowed, looking up at me with large lavender eyes, somehow managing to sound reproachful.

“You don’t count,” I assured him.

I stomped into the bathroom, muttering under my breath about pig-headed men and how they should all be castrated with dental floss, and stepped into the shower. The water was ice cold when it first streamed out of the shower head, but I didn’t care, my anger filling me with enough heat to dispel the chill. The water turned hot soon enough, and tipping my head into the flow it was easy to pretend that the wetness on my cheeks was purely from the shower.

My skin was red and raw when I eventually emerged, irritation still burning in my gut like hot embers. Wrapped up in a scratchy, too small towel, I wound another around my hair before stepping out into the room, and immediately froze in the doorway. His cheeks still pink from being out in the cold, Holbrook stood at the small desk next to the TV, once again in the uniform black suit of the FBI. He stood with his back to me, doctoring a cup of coffee with cream and sugar, just the way I liked it.

“Ah shit!” I said, wincing when it came out far louder than I had intended.

“Everything okay?” he asked, turning to look at me over his shoulder as he pressed the plastic lid back on the cup.

“Oh, yeah. I just um…stubbed my toe. Hate when that happens,” I replied, making a show of hobbling towards the bed. I would have sworn that Loki rolled his eyes at me, but I’d never heard of a cat doing that so I shrugged it off as a combination of paranoia and guilt.

“Sorry it’s not much, the gas station across the street didn’t have a great selection,” Holbrook said with a lopsided smile as he crossed the room with coffee and a giant chocolate chip muffin in hand.

I felt like a complete tool for assuming the worst of him, and my cheeks warmed with shame.

“No, it’s great. Thanks,” I said, accepting the coffee and muffin, my mouth already watering at the smell drifting up out of the styrofoam cup. “I’m such an asshole,” I added under my breath.

“You say something?” Holbrook asked as he went back to fetch his own cup.

“Oh, ah…hot!” I replied, grimacing at my awkward response. Focusing on blowing on the steaming liquid I attempted to keep myself from shoving my foot any further into my mouth. As expected, I was only marginally successful.

***

Johnson drove the same way he did everything else—pissed off and angry. The drive through the mountains was filled with tense silence broken only by Johnson’s muttered curses as he weaved through traffic at break-neck speed. I put in my ear buds and turned the volume up on my iPod as I tried to smother the growing tension, but even a selection of my favorite rock tunes couldn’t ease the sense of wrongness pervading the car. I wished that I could be in the other vehicle in our little convoy. At least this time I wasn’t sandwiched between two agents who appeared about as cheerful as a rainstorm, and could distract myself by watching the world slip past outside the window.

Once upon a time, I would have relished the escape from the mountains and leapt at the chance to explore a life outside of my rural upbringing. Growing up in my grandparents’ cabin hadn’t exposed me to all the same things kids raised in the city experienced, but they’d done their best to make sure I had a normal childhood.

The small high school in town had the same cliques as any other school—the jocks and cheerleaders who seemed to lord over all the others like hormone driven royalty, the math nerds and science geeks who imagined a better world built on calculations and equations, the theatre kids who dreamed of alternate selves and different worlds, and what I’d always called the “anywhere kids,” the ones who wanted to be anywhere but there, trapped in a small town with a small life. I was one of the anywhere kids.

Going to college in Fort Collins was supposed to be my ticket out, my chance at being just a normal kid from anywhere USA rather than the quiet artsy girl whose parents were gone. But that was before I’d met Samson, before I had fallen for his charming smile, before he had torn into my belly with rending claws and gnashing teeth. It seemed like a lifetime ago, the girl I had been then a stranger to me now. It was hard to believe I’d ever been so naïve.

I started to doze somewhere between Golden and downtown Denver, the rumbling vibrations of the tires on the pavement lulling me into a half sleep. I was distantly aware of Johnson and Holbrook talking up front as I hovered on the edge of sleep, my head cradled in the crook of my arm where it rested against the window.

Johnson spoke in a rough and accusatory tone as always, while Holbrook’s voice flowed in his melodic southern drawl. Not for the first time, I wished that I could just curl up in the warm, honeyed notes of his voice and slip away.

“…should tell her,” Holbrook was saying, his words heated with frustration.

“It has nothing to do with her,” Johnson replied in clipped tones.

“How can you say that? It has
everything
to do with her. She needs to know.”

“No. She doesn’t. And you’d better not tell her. You need to stop thinking with your pecker and focus on the job.”

Cracking my eyes open just enough to make out their silhouettes, I watched Holbrook blush all the way to the tips of his ears, his eyes narrowing in anger as he glared at his partner.

“You’re out of line, Harry.”

“But I’m not wrong, am I?” Johnson asked, his voice colored by the warmth of a smug smile. There was real ugliness in his inflection, something dark and foul beneath his words that made me shudder. “You think we don’t all know where you were last night?”

Silence was the only answer Johnson received from the passenger seat, and it spoke loudly of Holbrook’s guilt. Looking away from his partner, Holbrook stared out the window, his embarrassed reflection igniting indignant anger that burned hot in my chest.

How dare that tool cut his partner down that way, and what the hell were they keeping from me?

***

It had been years since I’d ventured into Denver. The towering edifices of the city were a foreign world of glass and steel. I was more at home in the wilderness, surrounded by the scent of trees and earth, rather than immersed in the cacophony of honking horns and choking car exhaust. I huddled in the back seat of the SUV, shielded behind the anonymity of dark tinted glass, though the nervous flutter in the pit of my stomach had me sure that someone would recognize me at any minute.

Soon enough, we arrived at the FBI headquarters and Johnson pulled around the side of the building to enter the parking garage. The entrance was barred by a large rolling gate topped with razor wire. A small guard house sat off to the side where the gate met the solid concrete wall of the garage, and as we rolled to a stop a pair of uniformed guards stepped out, squinting against the bright sunshine.

The first of the guards, a giant of a man with arms bigger around than my thighs and a no-nonsense buzz cut, approached Johnson’s window, a hand resting on the butt of the gun at his hip. The other guard, who had a similarly imposing stature, walked a slow circle around the SUV, passing a mirror on a long pole under the car.

Rolling down his window, Johnson was already reaching for his badge when the guard greeted the two agents sitting up front. “Afternoon, Agents. Do you have anything to declare?”

“Just a grumpy werewolf who needs to pee,” I piped up, drawing irritated looks from everyone.

Wow, the FBI seriously needs to invest in some humor training. How to Take a Joke 101.

Receiving the all clear from the other guard, the first guard reached inside the guard house to hit the button for the gate. With a loud grinding sound, the gate lurched into motion and slowly drew back to allow us entry. The guards waved us through, their eyes seeming to bore into me even through the tinted glass. Glancing back over my shoulder, I watched as the gate rolled shut behind us and the guards resumed their positions as the next car in line underwent the same investigation.

There were a couple of agents in dark suits and sunglasses entering a door that presumably lead into the building when we pulled in. They looked like a couple of
Men in Black
rejects, and I couldn’t help snorting in laughter at the sight of them. Johnson shot me another baleful glare for my mirth, and Holbrook just arched a questioning brow at me.