A Kiss of Revenge (Entangled Ignite) (13 page)

“I can get it if I do.” His voice was gentle, and to her dismay, tears welled in her eyes. She said a hasty good night and escaped.

She’d just reached her bedroom when the phone on her nightstand rang. She wasn’t planning on answering until she checked the caller ID and saw the number for Brian’s facility. The entire world seemed to freeze. There was only one reason they could be calling her so late.

Was it over?

She moved in slow motion to pick up the cordless receiver. The next ring dragged through the air just as slowly. Her voice was muffled when she said, “Hello?”

“Ms. Templeton, thank goodness. I’m so sorry to call you so late. I’ve been trying to reach you for hours.”

Reese couldn’t respond. Dr. Langstrom sounded way too excited to be calling to tell her that Brian was dead, and Reese couldn’t think of why the hell else she’d be calling at this late hour.

But the woman didn’t seem to expect polite inquiry. “We needed to let you know that Brian’s surgery is scheduled for tomorrow.”

Chapter Eight

The world snapped past normal and into fast forward, spinning around Reese. She gasped and sank down onto the edge of her bed. “Already?”

“We’re so very sorry for the short notice, but a cancellation in the hospital’s surgical schedule was perfect timing. Everything else is in place. Dr. Studtgart arrived this morning and declared Brian a perfect candidate. And, of course, the sooner the surgery is done, the better the potential outcome. Will you be here for the procedure?”

Reese twisted at a movement in the hall. Griff stood with his weight on his good leg, eyes glittering in the darkness. The sight could have been creepy or frightening, but instead it was reassuring.

Though not reassuring enough to keep the phone in her hand from crackling.

“Of course,” she assured the doctor hastily. “Can you e-mail me the details? My battery is about to die.”

“Right away. We’ll see you in the morning!”

Reese thumbed off the phone but didn’t move to put it down. Silence filled the room, Griff simply waiting for her to tell him what was happening. But she was still reeling from the one-eighty between hope and despair, and she wasn’t sure which had come first.

The possible end of this journey loomed before her, and all she could do was think back to the beginning of it.

“I thought Brian was cheating on me.”

Griff knew that, but he didn’t speak. His understanding of what she needed made him the best friend she’d ever had, the one thing she couldn’t lose—and at the same time, depending on what happened in the next few days, possibly the one thing she couldn’t keep.

Tears welled again. “He was taking private flight assignments to places he wouldn’t tell me about, or lied to me about. I had been helping with his accounting, and suddenly he didn’t want me touching his books.” She had taken them as classic signs of cheating, hiding his expenditures and destinations so she wouldn’t find out about the other woman. Or women. She’d been hurt and angry but not scared, not then. She’d been abandoned so many times, but betrayal—that was much worse. “When I realized it wasn’t adultery but probably some kind of crime, I felt gutted. Even before we got into that plane, he’d broken us. I could never go back to the trust we’d had. And once trust is broken, love is harder to sustain.”

“I know,” Griff murmured, and she was seized with a fear that she’d be unable to avoid doing the same thing to him.

She raised her head and indicated the phone. “They’re doing the surgery tomorrow.”

His silence was profound, filled with shock and compassion and something else she didn’t dare label right now.

“Are you ready for that?” he asked.

She managed a little laugh. “Not even close. I’ve spent a year saying good-bye. I don’t—I don’t love him.” She’d never felt this awkward talking to Griff before. “But I can’t abandon him. He’s my husband. We belong to each other, no matter what we’ve become.” She stopped, arrested by the full truth of that statement. What
we’ve
become, not what
he’s
become. She was no longer the woman Brian had married, either. Not even close.

Griff shifted, grunting and easing back off his knee. “You’re not just afraid of being married to a different man than the one you chose,” he observed. “You’re afraid of not being the woman
he
chose, too.”

But that wasn’t right. She didn’t fear Brian rejecting her, repudiating everything she’d done and become since the crash. She probably should, but it was no longer Brian’s regard that mattered. It was Griff’s, and she had no right to want it. Especially now.

He limped into the room and sat next to her, taking her hand. “You have nothing to fear. You’ve changed, and maybe some of your choices haven’t been the ones I thought you should make, but you’re the most loyal, dedicated, passionate woman I’ve ever met. He’ll recognize that. He’ll recognize you.”

Tears spilled over at his words, which rang with a subtext she had to ignore. She set the phone on the bed and swiped at her face. The last thing she should do tonight was seek comfort—and far more—in Griff’s arms. So she turned the conversation to less emotionally fraught and more practical matters.

She drew a deep breath. “I might kill him. With the electricity thing—it’s still so erratic. Mostly I can control it, but it can still go haywire. What if it fries the stimulator in his brain? How could I live with that?”

He shrugged, his arm rubbing hers and generating an odd quiver inside her.

“You just need to gain complete control.”

She bit out a laugh. “Overnight.”

“What else are you going to do? Sleep?”

This time her laugh was genuine. “Good point.” She inhaled another deep breath, trying to keep her voice from quavering. “I wish there was someone out there who knew how already. It’s taken me a year to come this far, but stir up the emotional juices and I’m still frying things left and right.”

“How many times were your juices stirred as much as they are now?”

“Never.” She could say that without hesitation.

“So let’s go to work.” When she didn’t respond, he nudged her. “Come on. Off your ass. Go turn on the power in your empty room. We’ll practice.”

She frowned, remembering something he’d said back at the bakery, which seemed a lifetime ago. “Wait, don’t you have to be in court tomorrow?”

He gave a grunt she took as a yes.

“No way.” She stood. “You need sleep. I’ll practice on my own.”

“What I need is to be there with you during the surgery.” He caught her hand and looked at her, expression hidden in the shadowy room, but she could still somehow feel the impact of the emotions in his eyes. “There’s no way I can be, so please let me do this for you.”

I love you
. The words crowded into her head, borne of gratitude and friendship but heralding the growth of so much more. They burned with frightening intensity and she shoved them down, as deep as she could, and squeezed out a thank-you instead.

“So let’s go.” He heaved himself off the bed and leaned to unplug her bedside lamp. “Go flip the breaker. I’ll meet you in there.”

She did as he instructed, her insides settling as she joined Griff in her safe room. He’d set the unplugged lamp in the center of the hardwood floor and settled near it.

She joined him, keeping a few feet between them. “Okay. Now what?”

“We know you can collect, channel, and direct the flow of electricity. We know you can force it from you in a blast, and you can cause damage with it. Right?”

“Right.”

“You know enough about how those abilities feel so that you can control them under certain circumstances. So let’s try something new. Light the lamp.”

“Like this?” She tilted her head and studied it. Every piece of equipment she’d damaged had been plugged in. Everything she drew electricity from had always been connected to a power source—or it
was
the power source. She’d never tried to bridge like this before.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, reaching for the electricity. The fine hairs on her body rose.

“Slow and easy,” he crooned. “You’re in charge. Take only what you need, but don’t close the channel.”

Her body buzzed. She opened her eyes and focused on the lamp. Where should she put it, and how? Through the cord? Directly into the socket? She tried the shortest route and pointed at the bulb, pretending the stream was like air being slowly released from a balloon. Tightly channeled, just as when she’d put out the cameras in the Alpine house. The bulb started to glow.

Then it shattered.

Griff must have realized it was going to happen a second before it did. Despite his injured knee, he flung himself across the floor, knocking her flat and out of the way of the flying glass. He landed sprawled on top of her, chest to chest, one leg between hers. They could hardly touch more completely.

She stared up at him, breathless. His mouth was inches from hers, his body hot and hard. Without thinking, she bent her leg to cradle him more fully. He went still for a second, then ran his fingers through her hair. Shards tinkled as they hit the floor.

“Are you okay?” He leaned back to check her face and stroke his hand down her neck. When he gently touched her ear, she shivered.

“Yes,” she managed with a rasp. “You?” She knew his chest had to be fine, because it hadn’t been facing the exploding lightbulb, but she couldn’t move her hands away from the solid curve of his pecs.

And
damn
, he still smelled good. Hunger growled up into her throat, almost audible. His head dipped closer and his eyelids drifted down. The hand that had been checking for injuries slipped under the nape of her neck, his fingers tightening. Her chin came up, the action arching her body the tiniest bit. Even that slight pressure was delicious. She braced, internally begging for the kiss that
had
to be coming.

But he sighed and rolled to the side. “False start,” he said. “Ten-yard penalty.”

She laughed and shoved at him, pretending she didn’t want to wrap her arms around his shoulders and pull him back down over her.

They slid away from each other, vociferously avoiding eye contact though she couldn’t be more aware of every move he made.

He finished dusting himself off and cleared his throat. “Now we know that’s not the best way. What do you want to try next?”

“Cleaning up my mess. Talk to me while I sweep. No, stay,” she ordered when he moved to get up. She needed a few seconds out of his sight while she got a new bulb and a broom and dustpan from the hall closet.

More collected, she returned and said, “Tell me about tomorrow’s case.”

He talked, his voice a soothing rumble while he gingerly replaced the bulb and she swept up the shattered glass. Tension eased until they interacted comfortably again.

“Have you ever tried direct contact?” he asked. “Following the current’s normal path?”

“Sometimes. Only to short things out, though.” Such as the security systems she’d blown.

“Try now, with the lamp.”

She reached for the plug, then went through the whole collection/streaming process again. This time, it all went smoothly as she drew the electricity and immediately channeled it into the cord. The bulb flashed on and glowed at a continuous rate.

“Hey!” She grinned, losing concentration, and the bulb dimmed. She pushed a bit more into the cord and it lit steadily. “It’s working!”

He grinned at her. “See? You just need to learn everything you can about your abilities and limitations. That’s how you gain control. Let’s run some other tests.”

They worked for hours. Powering different items and appliances off and on, alone and together, helped her strengthen her ability to focus. After a while, she could turn things on and off at will, maintaining multiple channels at the same time. Even tired, worried about the surgery, and flustered over Griff’s tackle, she didn’t misfire once, and when she wanted to, she shut it all off, leaving herself empty and normal.

That was bliss. She reveled in it, stretched out on the floor in an oasis of nothingness, though she was still aware of the excess energy in the room. It slowly dissipated, as if, unable to enter her body, it retreated to its source. She sighed, content in a way she hadn’t been in a long time.

She turned her head and smiled at Griff where he sat against the wall on the far side of the room, eyes closed.

“Griff?”

“Hmm?” He blinked sleepy eyes at her. The late hour, the quiet solitude, and the desire she’d tried to bank for days almost overwhelmed her. She wished she could crawl across the floor into his lap, and show him everything she was feeling right now.

But she managed to keep it to a simple, “Thank you.”

His mouth curved, eyes drifting closed again. “Anything. I mean, anytime.”

She rolled to her feet and went over to help him up. “Come on. You can still get a couple of hours of sleep before you have to leave for court.” She gripped his wrist and heaved until he was upright, albeit swaying.

She bit her lip. “I’m worried about you driving.”

His gaze flicked to her mouth, then away. He gently gripped her upper arms and set her back before hobbling to the doorway. “I’ll take an energy shot and be fine. I can crash tomorrow night.” He cracked a yawn with a “night” buried in the middle of it, waved at her, and disappeared down the hall.

But she couldn’t even think about going to bed. Her mind raced with everything she had to deal with. Sarah would have to open the bakery again. The woman’s obvious glee when Reese had checked on her yesterday told her she wouldn’t mind, but there was no way to call her now. She sent her a text message and hoped she got it in time.

But the bakery had become the least of her worries. Brian’s surgery meant she couldn’t go to Chelsea immediately, but with the raid, she knew she couldn’t wait too long. Her only leads—Skav and the boat—would disappear.

Griff wouldn’t want her to go, and she hoped desperately that he didn’t get a chance to say so. She didn’t want to have that fight. Not now.

Everything had changed in the past few days in ways that terrified her. He was the only friend she had, the only person in the world she could trust. Losing that would devastate her.

Being independent, of taking care of Brian, being in charge of her own life—it was all a façade. Inside, she was one big coward. Maybe she wasn’t after Big K for justice or closure or to protect herself from being blamed for the plane crash. Maybe she was after him because creating this quest also created or maintained human connections. Gave her a reason to hold on to Brian, despite his transgressions, and to keep Griffin close to her, as more than just a paid investigator.

She had to douse the ever-growing desire he’d ignited, make sure she kept things purely professional from now on. As much as she hated that he had to leave, the trial was well timed.

Sighing, she padded out to the kitchen for a glass of water. She was still wide awake despite the non-stop activity, and she carried her glass to the living room window to watch the sky that had gained a hint of pink just above the treetops. She watched it darken to a redder shade, then the sky above as it grew lighter and lighter blue. The yard and street were still dark, and suddenly it wasn’t enough to watch from inside, through the glass. She wanted to experience the sunrise.