Secrets Rising (28 page)

Finally he calmed and rolled over, pulling her on top of him, unwilling to break the connection. For a few moments they lay still, her heart pounding against his, the rhythm gradually slowing.

He had no idea what he wanted to say.
That was incredible. That was the best. You're the best. We're the best.
It all sounded so inane, so inadequate. And it wasn't really what he wanted to say, anyway.

She pushed upward, and his arms tightened around her reflexively. "Don't go," he heard himself say and was astonished at the edge of panic in his voice. No sex could possibly be that good.

"I need a drink of water."

He released her and allowed her to leave him. Sitting up, he watched her walk across the room, recalling his first impression of her as willowy. She was. Tall and sleek with flowing curves and an easy, elegant grace as she moved, barefoot, totally nude, to the bathroom.

At the sink she ran water, tilted her head back and drank, then refilled the glass. She returned with the tap water and sat on the bed beside him, offering it to him.

"Thanks." He took the glass from her and drank. The water was tepid and flat but the act of drinking from the same glass she'd placed between her lips was inexplicably, unbearably erotic.

"Well," she said, and he knew from the single word, from the way she held her head, from a thousand little things about her, that, their passion expended, she was suddenly uncomfortable. "I guess I'll see you in the morning." She stood, then bent to retrieve her robe from the floor.

"You're leaving already?" There it was again. That trace of alarm in his voice. What the hell? He smiled lazily and reached a hand toward her. "That was just the appetizer. You can't go before the main course."

She hesitated then dropped the robe, returned his smile and came back to him. As she slid into his arms, Jake marveled at how perfectly she fit there, how good she felt. This time when they made love, he was able to restrain himself, to go slowly and tantalizingly, inflicting exquisite torture on both of them, caressing every inch of her delectable body, bringing her to the summit again and again until he finally joined her.

Afterward he turned off the light and held her. Her body against his still felt good even when they were both satiated, so good it was almost frightening.

But she was leaving in the morning. They could share a night of pleasure then move on. He'd done it plenty of times before.

Though he couldn't remember that any woman had given him so much pleasure, was still giving it just by lying next to him in his embrace.

She wanted to spend the night with him, wake in the morning and make love again, have breakfast together, smile at each other over their scrambled eggs. But she knew that wasn't the way things worked with Jake...or, it appeared, with anybody she was involved with. He was right. She had to learn to love and let go.

Fumbling in the dark, she found her robe, put it on and left, closing the door quietly behind her.

Back in her room, the still-made bed mocked her with its emptiness and sterility. The sheets on Jake's bed had become soft and crumpled, scented from their lovemaking.

She changed to a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and went out to the pool. It was small and square, functional rather than aesthetic, but the quiet water tempted her. A late night swim, gliding through the water silently, would have been wonderful, but she hadn't brought a suit.

Instead she sat on the concrete at the deep end and dangled her bare feet. It was almost two in the morning. The sun's warmth had long since dissipated leaving the water cool, even a little chilly.

All around the pool...all around her...doors were closed with people sleeping behind them. She was alone...at the pool, in her life. Jake slept in a room on the other side of the complex. They'd made incredible love, their very souls had seemed to touch. And then it was over.

Love and let go.

Some people were able to hold on. Like her parents. Their love for each other had always been obvious. They'd had so much, it had spilled over to encompass everyone.

After this past week of experiences with Jake and people who might be her blood relatives, she needed to reassess her outlook. Perhaps she'd been wrong in thinking she wasn't special to Brenda and Jerry Patterson. True, everyone was special to them, but that didn't negate her relationship with the two of them. It just meant they'd been unusual people, people with enough love to go around.

Not everybody had their ability. Her biological parents had apparently been lacking. They hadn't even had enough for their own daughter.

She'd felt close to Doris and to Jake, but some element had been missing there, too.

Rather than bemoaning her lack of natural parents, she should feel grateful for people who'd started out as strangers and then became parents who'd possessed the ability to care for her.

She began this search to find her identity, her past, to find her life and take control of it. Doris and Jake had both told her the past wasn't important, only the present and the future.

She needed to go home. Be glad she'd had her parents to care for her but realize they were gone. Find her own future, turn loose of the past. Tell Jake to stop searching for her biological parents. Judging from what she'd found so far, she was better off not knowing.

For the first time, she felt as if she really was taking charge of her life, making decisions, not being swept along by circumstances.

Nobody was going to fill the empty spot inside her, give her an identity. Nobody but herself. She'd counted on Jake, on Doris, on parents she'd never met...and all had failed her. The only person she could count on was herself.

Tomorrow she still had to deal with getting her car towed from Doris' house. She would probably have to face Doris one more time, and that would hurt.

She'd have to face Jake, too. As after the first time they'd made love, he'd undoubtedly be cool and impersonal, as though the events of the night had never happened. And that would definitely hurt.

Love and let go.

From the strength given to her by Brenda and Jerry Patterson, from the core of genuine love they'd shown her, she'd have to find the courage to do that.

As she stood, ready to go back to her room and try to get some sleep, an eerie sensation darted down her spine, as if she wasn't alone, as if somebody was watching her. She froze, poised on the edge of the pool.

A shadow moved over by the stairs on the second floor.

A shadow. That's all. She was imagining things.

From behind her she thought she heard something, a faint movement of the air. She started to turn in that direction—and a weight shoved against her back, sending her splashing into the pool.

She gasped in surprise, swallowing some of the chemically treated water that engulfed her. For an instant she was a kid again, being pushed into the community pool by one of the boys.

Instinctively she held her breath and pushed upward. Through the distortion of the water, she saw someone in black kneeling over the pool, reaching for her.

Jake? Had he pushed her in? Surely that's all it was. No reason to worry. Jake had followed her, playfully pushed her in the pool. Now he was going to help her out.

She reached upward, planning to grab his hands and pull him in with her.

But the hands eluded her, grasping her hair near the scalp and pushing down, holding her head underwater, and suddenly she realized this was no rough-housing event. She could drown.

Someone was trying to kill her.

She fought against the hands, trying to pry up the fingers. Big fingers. Strong fingers.

Every movement yanked her hair and increased the pain. She needed to breathe, hadn't been prepared to stay down this long, hadn't had time to take a deep breath.

Panic seized her, threatening to steal any chance she might have.

She refused to give in, resisted the urge to flail wildly, forced herself to think. She couldn't free herself from the grip of steel. Instead, she focused on the little finger of one hand, on using both her hands to bend back that little finger, as far back as she could, to break it.

Chapter 20

Jake halted with his fist in mid-air, poised to knock on Rebecca's door.

A gunshot exploded from somewhere close, the sound bouncing and echoing until he couldn't be sure of the source, whether it came from inside her room or outside.

"Rebecca!" An image of her bleeding, dying, burst into his head. Without a second thought, he kicked down the door and charged inside, his gaze sweeping the empty room. Her bed hadn't been slept in.

Come to the pool,
she'd said on the phone.

He sprinted across to the patio door, found it unlocked and shoved it open.

A few people had stepped out of their rooms and were looking around curiously, apparently roused by the noise, but he didn't see Rebecca.

His heart clenched painfully as he dove into the water, but he ignored the sensation, ignored the fear that threatened to paralyze him. Emotions would hamper his efforts, could cost Rebecca her life. He fell back on his police training, focused on dealing with the emergency, assessing the situation and taking appropriate action to guarantee the best possible outcome.

He grabbed her about the waist, one part of his mind noting that he saw no blood staining the water, no evidence of a gunshot wound, while the other part did something he hadn't done since he was a child...prayed to a God he'd given up on years ago.

He dragged her onto the rough concrete, checked for pulse and breathing, found none and began CPR, concentrating on the action, not thinking about the fact that this was no stranger, this was Rebecca, the woman he'd made love to and held in his arms a short time ago.

"Is she okay?" someone asked, and in his peripheral vision he saw that a small group of people in their night clothes had begun to gather around them.

The cap on his emotions blew then, and intense relief burst over him like hot lava exploding from a volcano. Only then did he allow himself to realize how terrified he'd been, how devastated he would have been if Rebecca hadn't survived. But he didn't have time to think about the implications of that right now.

He turned her on her side and held her hair back while she coughed and choked and vomited chlorine water, took in deep, gasping, beautiful gulps of air, then coughed and choked some more.

He stripped off her soggy clothes, pulled the covers from under her and threw them over her then went to turn off the air, close the broken door and get a towel for her hair.

When he came back, she'd curled into a ball, and her teeth were chattering. He dried her hair as best he could, flinching with her pain when he hit the sore spot on the side of her head causing her to wince and groan.

She was still shivering when he finished. He could think of only one way to warm her.

If somebody had called 911 as he asked, an ambulance, police, firemen...maybe half the town...were on their way. But Rebecca's well-being was what mattered.

He tossed the towel onto the floor, pulled off his own wet clothes and crawled in bed with her, holding her body against his, trying to infuse her with his warmth.