Arc Angel (11 page)

Bullseye. She slumped down into her sweatshirt and pulled her arms in close to her sides like a turtle trying to hide in its shell.

“Miranda. You can tell me. What happened?”

This time he was determined to wait her out. He needed to hear what had happened so he could avoid sticking his foot in his mouth. Again. Unfortunately, patience was not one of his virtues.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, she whispered from behind her hoodie, “Someone was there.”

“In your apartment?”

She shook her head. “Not in. But at the door.”

He wondered why something so seemingly benign disturbed her so much, but reminded himself of his vow of patience. He decided to try to make a joke about it, trying to relax her, get her to let her guard down.

“Was it the Big Bad Wolf, or what? Is your apartment made of straw?”

She flinched like he’d slapped her. The guilt made his stomach whirl again. He’d done more than put his foot in his mouth. He figured he’d managed to get all the way up to the knee this time.

“I’m sorry, Miranda. I was trying to make a joke. Obviously a bad one.” He reached out to touch her arm, but she pushed back her stool until she sat just out of reach. At least she was still sitting, rather than running out of the house.

But instead of fleeing the premises, she must have decided to take a stand. She pulled her head out of her sweatshirt and sat up straight. She met his gaze with only a hint of a wobble. “I know I sound c-c-crazy. And I probably am, in a couple of different ways, even before what happened Thursday night. But w-what happened at my apartment last night was real, and it scared the bejeezus out of me.” He opened his mouth to apologize again, but she kept on going, not letting him speak. It was as if a dam had burst in her brain, and all the words she’d so carefully kept in were flooding out of her.

“Two men came to my apartment. They wanted me to let them in. I refused. Then one of them started breaking down the door. Though I believe he was using his shoulder, not huffing and puffing.”

Miranda said the last sentence in the same rapid but even cadence in which she’d said everything else. Bryce looked hard at her dainty features, trying to see whether she was pissed off at him or had actually made a joke, albeit a sarcastic one. He hoped he’d caught a glimpse of humor in her, but decided not to point it out, just in case.

“Okay, so someone tried to break into your apartment. Why didn’t you call the police?”

Miranda seemed to deflate as if the question had squeezed all her newfound confidence out of her. She looked back down at the table. “I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I just couldn’t, okay?”

Bryce decided to let that one go for now.

“So what happened next? Did they manage to break in? Did they hurt you?” He hadn’t noticed any bruises or marks on her last night, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have any. His heartbeat ratcheted up a notch, but the idea had taken hold too tightly for him to care. If she had been hurt…

She shook her head, and he found he could breathe again.

Thank god.

His body accepted her answer and relaxed, but his thoughts kept heading down that path. She didn’t seem to be comfortable with touching. Had she been abused? If not last night, at some other time in her life? What else would explain her aversion to even casual contact?

She continued her story, and he forced himself to refocus.

“They were almost through when…”

“When what?”

“When… she took over.”

She? What did she… Oh man, she meant Arc Angel. His creation, his
fictional
creation, had taken over. If he hadn’t had that damn dream, hadn’t seen Miranda’s glowing hand, he’d have been pushing to have this woman institutionalized. As it was, he still wondered if maybe they both needed some kind of psychiatric intervention. He’d thought he had questions before, but now… damn.

“She… took over?” he managed to get out.

“She’s done it b-b-before. I think she senses when I’m in danger, and she knows I can’t handle it, so she… takes over.” Though Miranda’s words were flowing again, she continued to look anywhere but at him.

“Like with the mugger?” he asked.

“Like with the mugger. And yesterday, on the cab ride over, she did it again, though only for a minute. And then last night, at the apartment…”

The questions Bryce had been holding in tumbled out in a tangle. “What did she do last night, at your apartment? What happens to you, Miranda, when she ‘takes over’? Is that how you got here last night, with her in charge?”

The oven timer dinged, and they both jumped.

“The oatmeal. Hang on.” Bryce scurried over to the oven, pulled out the steaming ramekin with an oven mitt and brought it to the table. He set it in front of Miranda and looked at her expectantly. It only took her a few seconds to meet his eyes this time, which pleased him. Maybe she was getting used to him.

“Could I have a spoon?” she asked. “And maybe that brown sugar you mentioned?”

“Sorry. I guess I got carried away.” He hopped up and briskly grabbed a spoon and a small dish of brown sugar and a pitcher of milk out of the fridge. He set everything in front of her with a flourish and a little bow, which got another tentative smile. He was startled to notice how the warmth of her smile lit up her whole face, adding a level of beauty he hadn’t realized she possessed.

He watched her with a new appreciation as she shoveled several spoonfuls of sugar onto the warm oatmeal, added a dash of milk and stirred the whole thing up.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had homemade oatmeal before. It sounds so… healthy.” She spooned up some oatmeal and blew on it before popping it into her mouth. His eyes focused on her pink lips as they parted and closed.

“Mmmm. It’s not bad. You were right about the sugar.”

He needed to stop staring at her like a fool and get back to the matter at hand. She wasn’t even
that
attractive. A little too mousy and quiet for his taste. He liked his women bold and exciting. His reaction to her probably stemmed from an overdose of typical male hormones. After all, it had been quite awhile since he’d last…

Stop thinking about sex.

He needed to focus. He’d crossed “admiring good-looking women” off his to-do list years ago, and he certainly didn’t need that type of distraction with this particular woman. She was far too important.

He cleared his throat, determined to get back to business.

“So about Arc Angel…”

She turned back to her oatmeal and took several bites without speaking.

Dammit, had she noticed him staring at her? He knew she didn’t appreciate being looked at, and he’d gone and ogled the poor thing over breakfast. He’d screwed it up again. He was ready to stomp out of the kitchen in self-disgust when she started talking in between bites.

“When she takes over, it’s like I’m still there, and I can still hear and see and feel everything, but I’m not driving anymore. Does that make any sense?”

Bryce nodded, literally biting his tongue to keep from asking more questions. The possibilities were exciting enough to make him want to get up and dance around the room. Though judging by the look of unease on Miranda’s face, she probably wouldn’t agree to partner him.

“Last night, when the men started to try to break down the door, I thought about trying to do something with the security system. I had beefed it up a little when I moved in, though obviously not enough. Anyway, I headed to the sensor in my room, but then I started to panic. I couldn’t breathe, my heart was racing, and I froze. And that’s when she showed up. She took care of everything. She was so calm and strong.”

The look in Miranda’s eyes shifted slightly, a touch of excitement mixing in with the freaked-outness.

“She… we… adjusted the security system. We locked the building’s exits, set off the alarm and shut down the power. Then we climbed out my window, sealed it and ran.”

Bryce couldn’t keep quiet. “What happened to the men breaking down your door?”

Though she maintained her nonchalant tone, Miranda’s face fell. “Probably nothing. I’m sure the residents called the police and someone figured out how to turn off the security system.”

“And the men just walked away?”

She shifted in her seat, looking down at the table. “Why not? They were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“But your door. Wouldn’t the police notice the damage?”

“My guess is that they probably said they were trying to get in to help me. And with no one to contradict them, why wouldn’t they be believed?” Bitterness crept into her voice. Bitterness mixed with a dash of fear.

“So you still aren’t going to call the police about this?”

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

“But—”

“No.”

Fine. She could keep that secret, as long as she kept opening up to him about Arc Angel. They were making real progress. If he avoided driving her away again, he might finally get his answers. If only he had more time with her. And he knew how he could get it.

“Okay,” he said, “I give up on the police thing. For now. But you can’t go back to your apartment. It’s obviously not safe. You’ll stay here. I’ll send Matthews over to get some of your things. Why don’t you write up a list of what you need and… what?”

As he’d been talking, her shoulders slumped and her hands disappeared into her pockets again. “I want to go back to my apartment.”

“But Miranda, it’s not safe. You know that. If they broke in last night, what’s to stop them from breaking in again tonight?”

“I know, I just… I can’t stay here. I mean, thank you for offering, but I need to go back to my apartment.”

“Why? Why can’t you stay here? What’s so important about your apartment?”

“I just have to go back there.”

And he’d been doing so well! He’d thought she was even starting to like him a little. That she’d rather go back to the place she’d recently escaped from than stay with him crushed his ego flat. He needed more time with her, to keep up their newfound momentum. If he couldn’t rely on the Campion charm to win her over, maybe he could rely on the Campion resources.

“Alright. If you’re determined to go back there, I’ll help you. You seem to have a handle on the electronic security system, but it never hurts to have a human deterrent as well. I’m going to have Matthews send some guys over there to fix your door and make sure no one else gets in who shouldn’t be there. And those guys are going to stay there, outside your building, as long as you need them, at my expense.”

He could tell by the way she bit her lip that she was wavering.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Miranda.”

Her teeth released her lip, and she finally met his eyes. “Okay. Thank you.”

Score one for the Campion resources!

He decided to take advantage of his temporary win.

“But I have one other condition.”

Her eyes narrowed. He still needed to tread carefully.

“I want you to see my— this doctor I know. He can run a few tests, maybe help us figure out what’s going on with you.”

Because damn it, I really need to know. I need to know if you truly have all of Arc Angel’s powers.

“A d-doctor? I don’t want to see a doctor.”

“Dr. Harris is a nice guy, not at all scary.”

Miranda shook her head.

He reminded himself that “patience” was his new watchword. He just needed to identify the source of her resistance and break it down. She had to see Harris if he—if
they
were going to get any answers.

“I’m sure it won’t hurt…”

Another head shake. Okay, pain wasn’t the problem.

“He knows how to keep things confidential. He won’t tell anyone you’ve been there.”

He watched for another headshake, but this time her head remained perfectly still. Hmmm. He must be close.

“He won’t tell anyone, and I mean
anyone
, about your visit. It’ll be completely off the books. No reporting to any agencies, or files on record, or anything like that.”

Miranda sat quietly for a minute before speaking. Finally, she asked, “Do you think… do you think he can tell us what happened to me? And maybe help me find a way to… control it?”

“If anyone can, he can. What do you say?”

“Okay, I’ll do it.” A funny little half smile lifted one side of her lips.

Hallelujah!

He wanted to throw his arms around her and give her a big bear hug. He was so glad she’d agreed with him. And she looked so pretty when the fear in her eyes receded. Maybe instead of a bear hug, the hug could be a little more… comforting than a bear hug. Nope. Even if she let him anywhere near her, which she wouldn’t, he was in strictly platonic mode these days.

So instead, he clapped his hands together, determined to keep them far away from her.

“Great! You finish your oatmeal, and I’ll go call Harris and talk to Matthews about setting things up at your apartment. We should have things taken care of by mid-afternoon.” Which gave him a few more hours to bond with Ms. Miranda James.

Miranda smiled her cautious smile again and said, “Thank you.”

No, thank
you
. You may be the answer to all my prayers.

***

Mr. Brown locked his computer keyboard in preparation for his visitor’s imminent arrival.

“Come in, John,” he called after a brief knock had sounded.

Instead of striding in briskly as usual, John entered the room like he was on his way to the hangman. Despite the accuracy of the comparison, Mr. Brown wasn’t pleased. He didn’t appreciate such a blatant show of distress. Though, on the other hand, his associate had been under enormous stress lately. Perhaps he deserved a little consideration. For now.

“Go ahead, John. How are we progressing?”

“Sir, we’ve obtained the final schematics for the exhibit. That, along with the latest version of the planned police presence, should give us all the information we need.”

“Excellent! Have the full information sent to me immediately.”

“It’s already on its way.”

“And the prototype?”