Beastly Beautiful (11 page)

This had gone far enough. Consequences or not, she couldn’t let him continue like this. Suppose he hurt himself somehow? What if he was having some sort of seizure and was unable to wake from it? Panicked by the thought, she grabbed his shoulders and shook him in earnest. Nothing happened.

She tried calling his name. “Sir, can you hear me? It’s Teagan.” She didn’t care that her voice was unsteady. “Do you want me to get you some help? Do you need an ambulance?”

No response. Her mind raced. Did he have a medical condition, any prescriptions lying around that might help? Were there emergency numbers for a friend or family member she could call? Why had it never occurred to her to ask these sorts of questions before? The answer came immediately, of course. Because theirs was a strictly business relationship, built on a no-questions-asked basis. She really knew nothing about him, and until tonight, had needed to know nothing.

Trying to keep calm, she scurried into the kitchen where she dug hastily through the cabinets until she found a dishtowel that she soaked in icy water. One last ditch effort to wake him, she decided, and if that failed, she’d start searching for a phone to call for help.

Back on the couch, Sir shuddered as the cold cloth was pressed against his brow. Was it helping? She couldn’t be sure.

She tried talking again, in a soothing tone. “Breathe easy, Sir, and try to come back to me. Whatever it is that’s holding onto you, just let it go and follow my voice.” Maybe he heard her, and maybe he didn’t, but she kept it up. “You’re safe,” she comforted. “We’re sitting here in your apartment, together, on the couch. You drank a little, we talked, and now you’re having a nap. No big deal. You can wake up whenever you want.”

Was it her imagination, or was he growing still under the sound of her voice and the touch of the wet cloth? She kept both her tone and the cool stroking steady as she continued streaming whatever words came to mind. She had no idea what she was babbling about. She was too busy watching for signs of improvement while battling internally with the decision of whether or not to call for help to pay attention to the part of her that kept nattering meaninglessly on in the background.

It was probably only a few minutes before he started to come back to himself again. To Teagan the passage of time felt blurred, however. The wait between the end of his twitching and the first time his eyes opened seemed longer still. There was no recognition in his dark gaze as it flicked over her before moving on to roam over the rest of his surroundings. That incomprehension sent a fresh flood of concern through Teagan.

“Sir?” She gripped his hand and gave it a tight squeeze to draw his attention back to her face. Maybe now was a good time to use a familiar name. “Mr. Rotham, sir, do you know where you are? Does anything hurt? Can you understand what I’m asking you?” She knew she was barraging him with too many questions but couldn’t seem to help herself.

His eyes gave up their exploration of the room and returned to her. With a rush of relief, she saw recognition set in.

“I never gave you my name.” His voice sounded cracked as he made the statement, but at least he sounded like his rational self.

“No,” she admitted, feeling her racing heart slowly drop to a calmer rhythm. She was surprised to see his mouth tilt slightly at one corner.

“I see you’ve been doing a little detective work on me.”

“I hardly needed to,” she answered, moving to give his sweaty brow another swipe. He still looked awfully dazed. She tried to distract him as his gaze drifted toward the ceiling. “Apparently Mr. J. Rotham is a pretty important figure in this town. I can’t pick up a paper without seeing your picture. ‘Mr. J. Rotham closes the deal. Mr. J. Rotham meets with board of directors. Mr. J. Rotham cleans his toenails with a solid gold pick’—I made that last part up myself.”

He closed his eyelids. “Very clever of you.”

Was he sinking away again? She gave his hand another squeeze. “Hey, don’t leave me alone here. You slip off into oblivion again and there’s no telling what I’ll do with your wallet or your priceless artwork while you’re out.”

He didn’t look concerned. “Don’t worry about me,” he mumbled, eyelids still closed. “I’m not dying on you. Just need a minute to come out of it. These dreams affect me too much…” Even as his voice trailed off, his fingers curled around her hand, as if attempting to hold onto that one connection to reality. It was the first time Teagan could recall having felt his touch without fear. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. He recaptured her attention when he whispered, “Keep thinking I’m gaining control, but then I lose it again.”

Control of what? Consciousness? She didn’t ask.

“You’ll be fine,” she reassured. But inwardly she wondered. His earlier reference to dreams wasn’t lost on her. What sort of nightmares gripped him that he couldn’t clear them from his mind, even during his waking hours? Thinking of her traitorous offer to his enemy, Dr. Green, she felt a twinge of guilt that was as unwanted as it was unexpected.

Chapter 15

Teagan’s breath came out in little white puffs as she exhaled the crisp morning air. Dawn was just graying the sky but the streetlights were still the main source of light over the snow-edged sidewalk beneath her feet. Shivering against a strong north gale, she shoved her fists deeper into her pockets and wished she’d worn something heavier than her thin jacket.

Behind her, Sir’s apartment complex had long ago disappeared as she covered the distance toward her own, more dilapidated side of town. Already the streets were growing crowded, and even at this hushed hour, pedestrians scattered the sidewalks, rushing past in their thick winter coats, their heads all but hidden behind scarves, muffs, and hats.

Teagan scarcely spared a thought for the passing streams of strangers. Her right hand, inside her pocket, was still tightly gripping the check from Sir, that little scrap of paper that had caused so much difficulty yesterday. Mentally, she kept replaying the night before, trying to remember at what point she had nodded off during the hours before dawn, her head resting on the arm of the sofa and her hand still curled around Sir’s.

When she awoke, hours later, Sir’s hand had been replaced by a stiff piece of paper with a lot of zeros on it, tucked into her palm. Which of them had dropped off first during the night, she still wasn’t sure, but there was no question who was the first to stir. Sir was already long gone from the place by the time she woke and hadn’t left so much as a note behind. Aside from her grogginess and the check in her pocket, there was nothing to prove to her last night hadn’t all been a dream.

She wondered if he always arose so early, or if he was merely eager to be away before she could bombard him with questions about what had happened. And she wanted to do exactly that. She remembered his shuddering body, his grinding jaw and clenched fists. Had it been nothing more than a random nightmare that had reduced him to such a state? She couldn’t believe it. Something was very wrong there, and she couldn’t shake the suspicion it all tied in with Sir’s weird late night rituals.

She was so focused on her thoughts she almost didn’t notice the first time it happened. Someone, a stranger out of the crowd, jostled her elbow in passing, before striding quickly on without a word. You got used to being bumped and pushed on the sidewalks of a city this size. Teagan thought nothing of it, until a few minutes later when she was again brushed by a man coming from the opposite direction. Was she wrong in thinking it was the same man? Probably. A lot of people in the city owned blue coats.

Still, the coincidence was enough to pull her out of her reverie. People had their purses snatched and their pockets picked on these streets every day. She couldn’t afford to let her attention stray like this. She snapped her thoughts back from the puzzle of Sir and focused on her surroundings. An intersection was coming up and she paused, along with a line of other pedestrians, to wait for a
WALK
signal.

On the street behind her, a horn suddenly blared and the squeal of tires, followed by a crash, announced the occurrence of another fender bender in a city that saw its share of accidents every day. Teagan was among those who turned to glance curiously over their shoulders at the commotion. If she hadn’t done that, she might not have seen him, the blue-coated stranger, following behind her.

She didn’t know why she immediately thought of that word: following. There was nothing to say he didn’t have a legitimate reason for turning around and heading back this direction again. And even if he didn’t, she was surrounded by a crowd of other pedestrians. He could be trailing any one of them, as easily as her. But he wasn’t. She knew that the moment she laid eyes on him this time. It was her he had jostled twice, her he was circling, and her his eyes were fixed on during the split second she glanced back at him.

For a brief moment, their gazes met. Teagan drew a sharp breath. There was something unsettling, something threatening in his posture, even as his face was too far away to be read. All she could be sure of was she had never seen this man before. And he was watching her. Equally obvious, he didn’t want to be discovered watching her. She had no sooner turned and caught his eye, than he whirled abruptly, presenting his back to her, and began walking hastily in the other direction.

A chill crept down Teagan’s spine and she hesitated. Should she follow him? Demand to know why he was watching her and what he wanted? The idea didn’t seem like a safe one. Briefly, she remembered the violent newspaper headlines only yesterday about robberies and attacks in dark alleys. There was no question there was evil in this city. Did she really want to confront it face-to-face?

At that very moment, the
WALK
sign lit up and around her people began moving forward in a steady stream that carried her with it. Teagan caught a final glimpse of a retreating blue clad back through the crowd, and then her mysterious follower was gone, lost among the sea of unfamiliar faces. Shaking her head, Teagan allowed herself to be propelled onward by the momentum of the crowd. Was she letting her imagination carry her away? Sir had accused her of having an overly active imagination. Most likely the stranger was just looking for an easy mark, an unsuspecting passerby with an accessible pocket. She tried to put the incident from her mind as she walked on.

The post office was right around the corner. She was about to pass it by when it occurred to her she might step in and check her box. It seemed very early to expect any response to her secret letter to Dr. Green, but it wouldn’t hurt to be sure.

The inside of the post office was as cold as she remembered it. Did they never turn the heat up in here, she wondered. She couldn’t decide if her footsteps really rang unnaturally loud on the tiled floor or if it were only her own nerves telling her so. Certainly none of the strangers milling around seemed to notice her.

“Easy,” she whispered to herself. There was no good reason for the nervous flutter she felt in the pit of her stomach.

Despite the reassurance, her heart beat a little faster as she inserted her tiny key into one shiny box nestling in an entire wall of identical ones. There was no squeal of the hinged door, or anything so dramatic, as the box opened. But there it was. A single white envelope resting in the bottom of the box. She didn’t reach in for it immediately, but stood frozen, staring at the answer she’d been waiting for.

A wave of misgiving washed over her. This was it then. No more questioning her actions in penning that hasty letter, no more debating with herself over whether or not the gains were worth the risk. The decision, whatever it may be, had been wrested from her hands.

* * * *

Back in the safety and comparative warmth of her one room apartment, Teagan slipped out of her jacket and sat on the edge of the bed, dragging off her shoes. Wiggling her fingers to work some warmth back into the stiff digits, she dug around in the pocket of her discarded jacket to retrieve the letter clumsily stuffed inside for safe keeping. She hadn’t wanted to read it in the post office. Somehow this traitorous pact she was entering into seemed too private to be done in such a crowded place.

Her hands trembled slightly as she tore at the envelope. Why so nervous, she asked herself, but had no answer. The fact the mysterious Dr. Green had responded to her letter at all was mildly surprising. She’d half managed to convince herself, during the days since mailing it off, she would probably never hear anything back.

It was quite possible Dr. Green was merely writing to ask that this strange, crazy woman not contact him again with her bizarre offers.

But he wasn’t. That became evident as she scanned the first tidy lines marching across the paper.

* * * *

A few minutes later, she sat shakily on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing. The letter from Dr. Green had already been carefully refolded and stuffed back into its envelope. It rested safely in the bottom drawer of the rickety stand beside her bed. She wasn’t sure whom she was hiding it from. She might as well have left it openly on the table as there was no one around to see it anyway.

But its contents had left her unsettled and filled with the guilty urge to bury the note somewhere, much like a killer burying the evidence that might convict him. She tried to shake away such morbid thoughts. What was she afraid of? The answer to that came back quickly enough. Sir. What would he do to her if he ever got wind of the plot forming between her and his enemy? But he couldn’t know, could he?

Besides, her more practical side chipped in, she was letting her overactive imagination weave too dark a picture here. It wasn’t as if there was anything that devious going on. Dr. Green had asked her to spy on Sir’s movements, to record any “unusual” actions in brief notes to be ailed to him daily.

Where was the harm in that? She couldn’t imagine what such updates could possibly do, either in favor of Dr. Green or to harm Sir. Certainly she didn’t see how the doctor got any sort of vengeance out of it. But if so small a thing made the strange man happy, more if he was willing to pay well, almost as well as Sir, for the service, why shouldn’t she comply? Of course, the wad of crisp hundred dollar bills she’d found tucked inside the envelope hadn’t hurt much either.