Blank Slate (17 page)

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, but she did nothing. After all he’d said yesterday, she wasn’t about to put herself in the position of being rejected again.

“Thanks,” she said, trying to break the sudden tension between them. “For last night. I really—”

But his mouth was on hers, and she couldn’t finish her sentence, even if she’d remembered what she was going to say.

Clarissa eagerly opened her lips, her blood heating in her veins as Langston deepened their kiss, his tongue sliding against hers. She had a brief thought that she wished she’d taken a moment to brush her teeth, then dismissed it. Who the hell cared when he was kissing her as though he couldn’t get enough?

His body lay half on top of her, his leg insinuated between her thighs. The thin pants he wore did nothing to hide his arousal, and Clarissa couldn’t hold back a moan.

Langston dragged the T-shirt she wore up and over her head, tossing it aside. His hands pressed against her spine, encouraging her to arch her back. She did so eagerly, her eyes slamming shut as his mouth settled over her breast.

Clarissa gasped, her fingers digging into Langston’s shoulders, the muscles hard underneath her hands. Her blood thundered in her ears as his whiskers abraded her tender skin, his lips and tongue a searing heat against her flesh. Desire burned in her veins. God, she wanted him.

Hooking her leg around his waist, she dragged at his pants, working them down. He helped, lifting his hips, and she triumphantly pushed the fabric down his legs. He was bare now, and she mewled in pleasure at the feel of the incredible ass she’d glimpsed last night. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever seen a better one, but somehow she doubted it.

“Oh, Erik,” she breathed.

Langston’s mouth left her breasts, burning a trail up her neck to kiss his name from her lips.

“Say my name again,” he whispered, pressing his mouth to her cheek, her jaw, her brow.

“Erik. ErikErikErik.” His name was a mantra she was only too happy to repeat, just so long as he didn’t stop what he was doing.

He shifted, settling himself fully between her thighs. His sizeable erection pushed against her flesh, sending Clarissa’s arousal to a fever pitch. The feel of his naked body against hers was more intoxicating than she would have believed. The only barrier between them now was the scrap of silk she wore, and even as she thought that, his hand was pulling at the fragile fabric.

There was a sharp rap on the door. “Erik, breakfast is ready if you and Clarissa want to come down.”

Langston was up and off her so fast it would have been funny if it didn’t make her want to scream in frustration. But she was treated to the view of a fully aroused Erik Langston — before he hurriedly pulled his pants back on.

“Um, yeah, we’ll be right down,” Langston called out. Somehow, his voice was steady.

Clarissa heard footsteps moving down the hall. For trying to be a matchmaker, Vivian had shitty timing.

“Shit, Clarissa, I’m sorry.” Langston shoved a hand through his hair.

Clarissa frowned. “Why are you apologizing exactly?” Tossing away the covers, she turned on her side to face him. She bent her elbow and rested her head on her hand. The pose accentuated the dip of her waist and displayed her breasts to full advantage.

Erik swallowed. Hard. He could not believe he’d nearly made love to O’Connell while in the same house as his mother. And after what she’d told him last night, too. What if she thought he was taking advantage of her? She’d been open and vulnerable to him last night; was this how he repaid her? By groping her the first chance he got?

“I didn’t mean to take advantage of you,” he said, trying to keep his eyes above her neck.

“Take advantage of me? Was I saying no?”

“Clarissa, you’ve lost your memory, we’re running for our lives, you’re having harrowing nightmares about the life you led — it’s natural to feel lost and alone.”

She sat up abruptly. “What are you saying? That you felt sorry for me? That’s all that was?”

Erik couldn’t take it anymore and started searching the floor for the shirt he’d taken off her. He couldn’t think straight with a raging hard-on and O’Connell nearly naked.

“No,” he said, finally finding the shirt and snatching it up. “It’s just…wrong of me to take advantage.”

She’d stood now, and Erik handed her the shirt.

“You know, Langston,” she began, “it always amazes me how men never stop to think that maybe they’re the ones being used for sex. And that’s all it is. Just sex. It doesn’t mean a damn thing.”

Erik winced inwardly at the ice in her voice but didn’t look away from her gaze. After a pregnant pause, she turned away and disappeared into the bathroom, the door slamming closed behind her.

If anything, Erik was now even more grateful for his mother’s timely interruption. What O’Connell had told him last night, what she’d unknowingly revealed just now, was how little her feelings were involved with sex. Erik wondered if O’Connell had ever had a real lover, someone who wanted to give and not take, someone she could trust to open up to and bare her soul.

Her first experience with sex had been to be raped, he harshly reminded himself. A sacrifice to save her brother, who was no more worthy of that kind of act than anyone else.

Regardless of the heat between them, Erik didn’t want to be in the same category as any other man who’d been with O’Connell. How to go about that…well, it would just have to wait until this was all over. His first priority was to keep her safe, the second to find a way to trigger her memory.

With that thought in mind, he dressed and went downstairs. A short while later, Clarissa came down to find him and Vivian sitting at the kitchen table.

“Good morning!” Vivian said cheerily. “You must be starving. Sit down and eat.”

Clarissa gave Vivian a wan smile as she sat down, making sure to put a seat between herself and Langston. She avoided his gaze. “Thank you.”

Vivian chatted with Langston while Clarissa ate. She watched him drink his coffee while he talked with his mom. He’d put on a pair of jeans and a navy button-down shirt. It was obvious that he and Vivian got along really well, and Clarissa remembered how he’d told her what they’d gone through when his dad had left them.

“So Clarissa,” Vivian said. “I noticed you have a slight accent. Where are you from?”

“Ireland originally,” Clarissa answered, remembering what she’d read from Langston’s file on her.

“And your family?”

Clarissa really didn’t want to tell her that her dad and brother were in prison. She liked Vivian and doubted she’d want her son associating with someone whose family reunions had to be held under maximum security. “My mother died when I was young,” she said, evading the question slightly. “I don’t really remember her.” That was certainly true.

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Vivian said sympathetically.

Clarissa thought she would have said more, asked another question, but Langston cut in.

“We have some work to do, Mom, so we’ll just be in the living room.”

“Oh. Okay, well don’t let me keep you then.”

Vivian started clearing the dishes, despite Clarissa’s protests that she’d help. Anything, really, to delay having to be alone with Langston.

“Don’t be silly,” Vivian said, taking the plate from Clarissa. “You’re a guest.”

Clarissa reluctantly followed Langston to the living room, sorry for the loss of Vivian as a buffer. Langston had already set up her laptop on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“Internet’s not a problem here,” he explained. “Let’s see if you have any e-mail.”

Clarissa didn’t say anything as she sat down. So it was all business now? Fine with her. It’s not like she wanted to discuss what had happened.

She didn’t know what to make of Langston. It was obvious he was attracted to her, wanted her, but refused to give in to the impulse to have sex with her. She could only assume his sense of duty, him saying it would be wrong, precluded sex. At least, with her. Maybe if she really had been the good girl he’d met at church…

But there was no point in following that line of thought. It was what it was. Langston was a white hat, an FBI agent who fought on the side of the law. Clarissa was a black hat, a criminal and thief who’d apparently done enough bad things to have dangerous people expending considerable resources to find her. The two of them together was a recipe for disaster.

The silence between them was fraught with tension. Clarissa was hyperaware of Langston sitting next to her, watching as she entered her password and pulled up her e-mail.

It didn’t take long before two messages came in. Both were from the same e-mail address, dated two days ago, and very short.

Transfer complete.

The second was just as cryptic.

31°33'34.01"N 91°24'40.78"W

“Those are coordinates,” Langston said.

“To where?” Clarissa asked, but Langston was already typing the coordinates into his phone.

“Natchez, Mississippi,” he said.

Clarissa noticed a flashing icon in the lower right-hand corner of the screen. She clicked on it, realizing it was a message from someone named Killall.

“Instant messaging,” Langston said, scooting closer. Clarissa could smell the spicy scent of his aftershave.

Bout time u came online. Where u been?

Clarissa stared at the prompt, her fingers poised over the keys.

“Type something back,” Langston urged.

She shot him a look. “I will. Give me a second.”

Looking back at the screen, she typed.

Ran into problems.

“Your handle is Calamity?” Langston said with a snort. Clarissa ignored him.

The response came back quickly.

Everything’s uploaded and now offline. When r u coming for pickup?

Clarissa glanced at Langston, who was sitting much too close so he could see the screen. “You think this is the one who e-mailed the coordinates?”

Langston hesitated. “Maybe. Ask him if the coordinates are still good.”

Clarissa typed,
Any change in coords?

No. Time?

“We can get there by tonight if we leave soon,” Langston said, looking at his watch.

Tonight. 9 pm.
Clarissa typed.

Got it
, came the response, then,
Wtf, Calamity?! No IP mask?!! R u insane?!!! The feds are always watching!

His icon went dark.

“What’s he talking about? Where’d he go?” Clarissa asked in surprise.

“Shit!” Langston exclaimed, slamming down the lid on the laptop. “He’s right. I didn’t even think about it.”

“Think about what?” Clarissa was utterly confused, but Langston’s reaction was making her extremely nervous, as were Killall’s last words.

“If he traced our IP address, then so can the FBI. We have to go,” Langston said. “The sooner, the better. Pack up the laptop.”

He disappeared into the kitchen. Clarissa could hear him talking to Vivian as she put the laptop back in the duffel. When he returned, Vivian was following him.

“Erik, I’m not just going to pack up and leave for my cruise two days early, especially if you’re not going to tell me why.”

“Mom, it’s better if I don’t tell you. Just trust me.”

Vivian crossed her arms over her chest, her face taking on the same stubborn expression Clarissa had seen Langston sport more than once.

Langston sighed and pushed a hand roughly through his hair. “Fine. Mom, Clarissa’s not a friend. She’s a prisoner. Wanted by the FBI.”

Ouch. Well, he’d certainly not sugarcoated that. Clarissa felt embarrassed, which was irritating. She stiffened her spine as she met Vivian’s gaze. She was who she was, and that was that.

But it had been nice to have Vivian think highly of her, even if it had been temporary.

“But…there have been problems. It’s not cut-and-dried. I’m trying to help her,” Langston continued. “I just need more time to sort things out.”

“What sort of problems?” Vivian asked.

Langston hesitated. “Clarissa has amnesia.”

Vivian’s eyebrows climbed. “I take it this means you weren’t just in the neighborhood and this wasn’t just a friendly visit? You’re actually on the run with her?”

Langston winced. “Kinda.”

“For goodness’ sake! Why didn’t you just tell me last night?”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

Vivian rolled her eyes. “I swear, Erik, you treat me like I’m some fragile flower, which is sweet but can get downright irritating. So are you going to go to jail for this?”

Langston hesitated. “Dangerous people are after Clarissa, including people inside the FBI. If they find her, they’ll kill her. So, whether or not I end up in jail isn’t really figuring into the equation right now.”

Vivian cast a shrewd glance at Clarissa, who squirmed uncomfortably.

“I didn’t ask him to help me,” she said. “I’ve tried to get him to let me go numerous times. But he won’t.”

“So will you leave?” Langston asked Vivian, ignoring Clarissa. “We need to leave too, but I need to know you’re out of harm’s way.”

Vivian nodded. “An extra day or two in Florida certainly won’t hurt me. I’m nearly packed anyway.”

Langston’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Good. I’m going to get some things we need, then we’ll get out of here. You too, Mom.” With that he headed up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Clarissa was left with Vivian, who gazed silently at her.

“Is it true?” she asked Clarissa, her voice hard. “Do you have amnesia? Or are you tricking my son?”

Clarissa didn’t flinch from Vivian’s gaze. “I swear to you, it’s not a trick. The first thing I remember is…him.”

Vivian’s features softened slightly. “Erik never was one to ignore someone who needed his help. But this isn’t just about the job. I know my son, and he wouldn’t put his career or his life in jeopardy for just anyone.”

“I’m really sorry,” Clarissa said, and she was. Even if Langston made it out alive, his career was destroyed, all on account of her.

“I just hope you don’t break his heart.”

That bombshell was still hanging in the air when Langston reentered the kitchen. Clarissa was saved from having to come up with a reply, not that she had any idea of what to say. Vivian seemed to be under the impression that Langston had feelings for her. Clarissa could have disabused her of that notion pretty quick. He didn’t even like her enough to sleep with her.