The Lost (11 page)

“Exhaust fans,” he explained, and took a look at what remained of the batteries. “They’re toast.”

“Definitely,” she agreed, but then he added, “No more danger. The lab will be fine.”

She glanced up the flight of stairs. It seemed as if it was a million steps until the first floor. And there was no way they would make it up the narrow staircase melded together as they were.

“I can do it,” he said, his voice stronger than it had been just a moment earlier. “You go first,” he instructed.

She didn’t argue with him. She couldn’t brace him if he fell, and if he did and landed on her in her current condition…

Bobbie went up the stairs, Adam immediately behind her. By the time she reached the first floor, he seemed to be more aware and motioned for her to walk to the right.

She did and found herself in a spacious great room. Adam’s father was already there, placing a large glass of water on the table. As he noticed them, he came to stand before Adam, but awkwardly, hands jammed in his pockets, as if he was forcing himself not to touch his son.

“Are you okay?” he asked woodenly.

Adam nodded, and his father immediately countered angrily with, “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

“An experiment,” Adam replied coolly, and half-turned to face her.

“Are
you
okay?” he questioned, his emerald gaze alive with concern as he laid his hand at the small of her back.

As it had before, his touch awoke something in her body. Where his skin met hers in the gap between her T-shirt and jeans came a slight vibration and then warmth spread outward from that spot, alleviating the slight pain she had been feeling in her back all night long. But then it continued lower, creating the first tug of nascent desire between her legs. When his hand trembled slightly and his gaze darkened, she realized he was feeling it as well.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to touch you,” Adam said, and ripped his hand away. But he had touched her, and since the moment he had laid his hand on her earlier, nothing could be the same. As if he understood that, he said, “Let me explain.”

A
dam glanced at her. At that earnest and beautiful face that had intrigued him so from the moment he had seen her. Then he shot an anxious glance at his father. “Dad, Bobbie and I need a private moment.”

“Don’t you think I want to hear the explanation also?” he challenged.

“This is between Bobbie and me,” Adam reiterated calmly.

A bright flush of color stained his father’s cheeks and guilt slammed into Adam, especially when Bobbie said, “Your dad is worried. That’s only natural after everything that’s happened today.”

Salvatore immediately picked up on her words. “What has happened today, Adam? Is there something else I should know?”

Bobbie winced as she realized her gaffe, but Adam tried to smooth things over. “I was going to tell you. I just wanted to try to get more information first.”

Salvatore marched right up to them, his demeanor full of bluster, but also concern. “Tell me what?”

Adam shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “There was an incident in the parking lot today. I was mugged by two men and Bobbie came to my aid.”

Salvatore jerked his head from side to side as he glanced between them, his agitation clear. “You were mugged? And you didn’t think to call me so I could help?”

“It’s not the kind of case you handle. Besides, I didn’t want to make it public and draw all kinds of attention to myself,” Adam replied. That seemed to mollify his father somewhat.

“You’re right. You don’t need to be in the spotlight,” he said, although he quickly tacked on, “I’m going, but we will talk about this in the morning.”

With an abrupt nod in Adam’s direction and a slight dip of acknowledgment to Bobbie, his father stalked from the room.

“Angry much,” Bobbie said, and glanced up at him.

“He’s a good dad. He’s just not all touchy-feely like you and your family,” Adam replied, recalling the easy camaraderie he had seen between her and Tony, and the love present in the photos in her home.

“What could you possibly know about me and my family?” she challenged, that liquor-colored gaze narrowing on him.

“I just assumed, since you and Tony seemed so close,” he lied, and walked the short distance to the table where his father had left the glass of water.

“What about your mom? Shouldn’t you let her know you’re okay?”

“I don’t have a mom,” he replied, hating the unexpectedly injured tone that emerged in his voice.

“Everyone has a mom, Adam,” Bobbie said with a playful kind of exasperation, attempting to lighten his mood.

“I’m adopted. I don’t know who she is,” he replied, and then quickly changed the subject. His words hid more than they told, and would likely make her question what else there was to his story.

“Can I get you anything?” He pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit. Within him the energy he had gathered jumped crazily, and he knew he needed something stronger to quiet that nearly uncontrolled power skittering through his brain and body before it created problems.

“Just like that? You can play host after you almost… Would electrocute be an accurate way to describe the idiot thing you did to yourself?”

Her question needed no answer, so he sauntered to a bar tucked into a nearby set of cabinets. Grabbing a bottle of twenty-five-year-old single malt scotch and two glasses, he returned to the table, sat, and placed a glass before each of them. Pouring a few fingers of the liquor into the tumblers, he lifted his and made a toast.

“To my guardian angel.”

“More like a harbinger of doom. Every time we see each other something bad happens,” she said, but raised her glass, clicked it against his, and took a swig.

She made a face, disgust, not appreciation, and he chuckled. “You like it,” he teased.

She took another sip, wrinkled her nose again. It was a cute nose, he decided, taking his time to examine her very expressive face.

“I’m not much of a drinker. It dulls the senses and I’ve got enough dullness going on as it is.”

Whether she knew it or not, she skipped her gaze down her arm and to her leg before shooting it back up to stare at him. “But you changed that. Or at least, part of it.”

He shook his head, not comprehending. “Me? How did I—”

“When you touched me. You put your hand on my arm and—”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He recalled how in his desire to see that she was okay he had skimmed his fingertips along her arm. Lost control over his power, letting it leak out as his emotions overruled common sense.

With a strong shake of her head, she cupped his cheek. Her touch was already familiar and awoke need in him. The aura around her body broadened and grew an even richer blue, spreading onto him as she touched his face. The brightness of it matched the intensity in her golden gaze.

“You
helped
me. See,” she said and elevated her left arm, rotated it, flexed, and made a tight fist with her hand. “I couldn’t do this before your touch.”

“That’s not possible.” His powers had always taken and not given.

She rubbed her thumb along his lips, and the scattered bits of energy racing through his body gathered into a molten pool at his center, then dipped lower as she scooted to the edge of her chair and inched closer to him.

“When you ran your fingers along my skin, I felt warmth. It turned into sharp tingles and then pins and needles,” she explained, and then, as if she wanted to show him, she danced her fingers along the back of his hand.

Her caress awakened him, but not in a healing kind of
way. As she paused and her fingers trembled against his skin, he realized she was experiencing the passion as well.

He wanted to touch her. Wanted to savor the softness of her skin beneath his fingers, but he feared that contact. And not just because he might hurt her. He feared becoming any closer to this woman who was somehow making him want things that weren’t possible for him.

“This isn’t a good idea, Bobbie.”

She stroked her hand up and down his arm and his gut twisted into a painful knot.

“You feel it, don’t you? The connection?” she asked, her gaze filled with yearning and confusion. She, too, wanted as much as she feared.

“Whatever this is can only cause problems for both of us.” But even as he said it, he pressed closer to her, pulled toward her by so many things: by the strength of heart he sensed; by the femininity encased in her warrior’s body, and by the temptation of the power swirling all around her, creating a bond he had never encountered before with anyone else.

“I’m not the kind to run from a problem,” she said as she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, smoothing the short strands into place. The innocent action stoked alive more need and a sensation like static electricity against his scalp. As she quickly pulled away, it was a sign that she had sensed the effects of the power as well.

“I kind of gathered that when you helped me in the parking lot,” he said with a chuckle, trying to downplay the way even minimal contact created a charge between them.

“You handled yourself pretty well. You probably didn’t need my help.”

He hesitated, contemplating just how much to tell her. Too much and he risked the secrets he and his father had kept for so long. Not enough and he maybe left her defenseless if the two men decided to come after her as well.

He opted for disclosure, wanting to safeguard her as much as possible. “Actually, those men were like the two of us. Different.”

She shook her head. “I’m not different. I’m—”

She stopped as he ran the tip of his index finger along her lips and made it impossible to deny the sparks that flew from that contact and the way it roused an ache along her sex. The color of her eyes darkened to amber and she licked her lips nervously. “Why am I feeling this way?”

“You have an aura. It’s stronger than any I’ve ever seen, except for possibly the two men from this afternoon,” he explained, and because he couldn’t stop touching her, he laid his hands on her bare arms, rubbed them up and down, which generated yet more electricity and heat between them. Everywhere he touched, her blue aura danced with silvery light.

Bobbie sucked in a shaky breath, battling the way her body was responding to his caress. Her nipples were rock hard and between her legs an insistent throb had her damp and achy. There was no denying his actions were the reason for it, but she needed to maintain a level head.

“Are you saying I’m like them?” she asked, and laid her hands against his chest. As she did so, another wave of power had her biting her lip against the sensations rocketing through her, which were mirrored in the rain-forest green of his eyes.

“Not quite. Their touch didn’t make me feel like this,”
he admitted. Beneath the controlled tone of his voice was a low rumble, like thunder in the distance.

She licked her lips and gazed at him again, noted the concern and ardor battling in his features as he released her and backed a few feet away, creating needed space, but also a strange sensation of emptiness within her.

He continued with his explanation. “When they touched me, it was like I had run into an electrified fence. Intense shocks nearly took me down each time they laid their hands on me.”

“But you got away. Did you do the same thing when you touched them?” she asked, and because she seemed to need something to do with her hands, she picked up the glass of scotch and took a quick sip. That perfect nose once again twitched in apparent distaste, although she didn’t release her grip on the tumbler.

“I thought there was a jolt when we fought, but I’m not sure.”

“Seems weird that you don’t know what you can do.” Her training as a Marine had taught her to understand her strengths and avoid any weaknesses. Years of training and war had honed that awareness of her abilities.

His lips thinned and she realized how her comment could have been taken as condemnation, so she quickly did damage repair. “In the Marines we were trained to know what we could do. I’m guessing you weren’t lucky enough to have someone to help you like that.”

“I’ve had no one.” The pain behind the words was achingly alive, so much so that she couldn’t ignore it even though the last thing she wanted was to get more involved with him. She’d already had too much of conflict and wanted nothing more than a peaceful and stable life.

But she couldn’t ignore his pain, so she closed the distance between them and cradled his cheek. That unnerving chatter of energy greeted her, but she pushed it back as she said, “I’m here now.”

Adam’s stomach did a somersault while his heart constricted almost painfully. “Now” was so fleeting an instant in time, but he welcomed it. In the brief moments that Fate had tossed them together, the growing emptiness he had been experiencing had abated.

He locked his gaze with hers—that smoky-hot look which ignited heat like that of the finely aged scotch he had tasted earlier. Shifting his face, her palm was soft against the rasp of his evening beard. A memory rose up, of the cat twisting and lifting its head for her caress. The pleasure that followed.