Darken (Siege #1) (18 page)

He unlocked the Jeep and held the door open as Cora slid into the passenger seat. Her shorts inched up her legs, and his palms itched with the desire to stroke her smooth skin. He quickly closed her door and went around to climb behind the wheel.

“So where are we going?” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“There’s a new Mexican restaurant in Billings I thought we’d check out.”

Going all the way to Billings was a bit risky with Sinclair out there, but he wasn’t about to take her to the pub or one of the diners in town for their first date. Besides, Cora would know if Sinclair was going to make his move. Sticking close to her would be key to finding the son-of-a-bitch.

“Do you think it’ll work?”

He glanced at her then focused back on the road. “I do. Sinclair’s got a reason for what he’s doing. I don’t know what it is yet, but once Caleb and I go through your notes, we’ll know how he’s doing it.”

“You said that whatever he injected into me was the same thing he did to you. So how come you don’t have visions?”

“It was a variation, so he’s adjusted it to obtain the results he wants. Which is probably why I have the night terrors while you’re getting visions.”

“I hate this,” she said, the threat of tears in her voice.

He reached over to slide his hand behind her neck and gently massaged it until she looked over at him.

“No more talk about Sinclair, Nielson, or SIEGE, okay?” he said. “Tonight, it’s just you and me.”

Chapter Eighteen

JUST YOU AND ME.

It sounded so simple, so sweet. And totally unattainable. Wanting Gavin’s words to be true didn’t make them so. Whether it was Sinclair, Lela, or someone else, Cora didn’t think it would ever be just the two of them.

It was nice to pretend, though, and it was almost too easy to. Sitting across from Gavin in the restaurant, she smiled and laughed at the stories he told her of his brothers and his sister. When he asked her questions, she answered as if he really cared about what she said.

“Do you miss Denver?” he asked as he laid his cutlery across his cleared plate. He somehow managed to devour his entire plate before she ate even halfway through her dinner.

She thought about Denver and what her life had been like there. Compared to Thompson Creek, it was a massive city. Downtown was packed with skyscrapers and the freeways were always busy. She didn’t miss the constant business, but there was no denying the beauty of the Rocky Mountains in the distance and the park outside the museum.

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “There’s a lot of convenience to living in the city, and Denver is beautiful. Although, I think Manitou Springs was my favorite place to go.”

“I’ve been there a few times,” he said in a hushed voice.

A far-off look took over his eyes, and Cora realized he’d probably gone with Lela when she toured the University of Colorado campuses. Cora had almost gone until she learned Gavin was going as well. The idea of spending time alone with the two of them, watching Gavin fawn over Lela, left her feigning illness. Lela hadn’t been happy; she even accused Cora of not liking Gavin.

Gavin blinked rapidly and cleared his throat, and Lela’s ghost vanished as quickly as it had come.

“Would you have stayed there if …” his voice faded.

And there was Sinclair.

Cora shrugged, taking her time finishing her mouthful of food before answering. As delicious as the meal was, the thought of Sinclair turned her stomach. “Maybe. Working at the museum wasn’t exactly what I wanted to do, but it was a good job, and I liked the staff. There was opportunity to move up to a better position.”

“I remember how much you loved art. The first time we met you had pencil smudges on your nose and chin and were carrying around a sketchbook.”

“I did have a habit of doing that,” she said. “It made a great look for senior portrait.”

They laughed, though Cora was certain that wasn’t the first time they’d met. The moment was seared into her memory and she knew she hadn’t started carting around that sketchbook until a few months after they met. What he recalled was most likely the moment he found out she and Lela were friends.

“Why did you stop?”

“Being an artist isn’t a career; it’s a hobby.”

His eyebrows shot up. “That’s not you talking. That’s your mother.”

She dropped her gaze to the plate in front of her, poking at the last few strips of fajita meat with her fork.

“I didn’t think you’d ever met my mother,” she said.

“I haven’t, but from everything I’ve heard about her and the way you reacted at the thought of her coming to visit, it’s pretty obvious she’s more sensible than sensitive.”

Cora chuckled. If only describing her mother were actually that simple.

“She loves me, and I know she wants the best for me, wants me to have a good life, but her ideas don’t always match up with what I envision.”

“Like giving up a career as an artist for a steady job?”

“Like that. Like moving to Denver and moving away from Denver.” She snorted. “Like every other decision I make in my life.”

She grabbed her drink glass and took a long sip of the tropical frozen margarita, wishing the sweet taste would cover the sharp bitterness of her words. Somehow, while striving to avoid the ghosts of the past, she left the door wide open for the bane of her existence.

“Let’s not talk about my family,” she said, placing her glass back on the table. She gave a grin that did little to relieve the tension caused by thinking about her mother. “What are your survival plans for the zombie apocalypse?”

“Zombie apocalypse?” he laughed. “Is this something I should be prepared for?”

As strange as her question was, it accomplished what Cora had hoped. There was no more discussing her mom, no opportunity for Gavin to think of Lela, and no way for Sinclair to slip into the topic.

The discussion spiraled from zombies to television and hobbies, and Cora realized how little she knew about the specifics of his daily life. And while he didn’t hold the same love of the zombie genre as she did, they did both watch some of the same crime shows.

It wasn’t until they were eating dessert that Cora let Sinclair weasel his way back in-between them. She dipped a sopaipilla into the small container of honey. The light, crispy pastry was one of her favorite desserts, yet it did little to distract her from Sinclair.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked.

“You just did,” he said with a smirk. She rolled her eyes.

“Something about Sinclair,” she clarified.

“Go for it.”

“I get that the visions I have and your night terrors are both caused by whatever Sinclair injected into us. But you said the night terrors were like his calling card and they let you know when he’s near. How can you be sure?”

“He told me. As part of the deal he cut, he was required to tell each of us about the anticipated effects of everything he’d done to us.”

“Why would he want anyone to have that ability?”

“Apparently, the government wants their soldiers to be able to sense the presence of their enemy.”

Psychic connection. He didn’t say the words, but it’s the only way Cora could think of to describe it. It was the same way she would describe her visions. She thought of how the variant of the serum Sinclair used on her allowed her to anticipate the enemy’s moves. Gavin’s night terrors and her visions were working together to find Sinclair.

“You look like you’ve figured something out,” Gavin said.

“No, just thinking,” she said, reluctant to force him into accepting another connection between them. Their conversation turned back to the mundane and thoughts of Sinclair slipped to the back of her mind.

Gavin watched Cora eat the last bite of the sopaipillas. A drop of honey landed on her lower lip, and her tongue peeked out to catch it. Damn, he wanted to taste that honey, to lick it off her lips. He could picture her lying on the bed naked as he drizzled honey down the middle of her chest and then back up around her nipples. He’d suck the sweet nectar from her rigid buds and—

“Gavin? Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah, I’m good.” He shook his head, clearing away the image of her luscious, honey-coated lips. He coughed and under the table adjusted his jeans to ease the press of the zipper along his hardening cock.

“Are you ready?”

“Fuck, yes.” He slid from the booth and held out a hand to help her out.

“Was having dinner with me that bad?”

“No, of course not.” As they walked toward the exit, his hand pressed to the base of her spine. “I was thinking we should pick up some honey on the way home.”

“You said you didn’t like honey.”

He leaned down until his lips were next to her ear. “I didn’t until I realized how much better it would taste if I licked it off your nipples.”

Her eyes widened and a lovely pink blush crept along her cheeks. “You are so bad.”

A chuckle burst from him and he avoided the light swat she sent his way by taking a long step forward to open the door. When she’d passed through, he let the door swing shut behind them and draped an arm over her shoulder, tucking her against his side.

A few feet from the door, something changed. He wasn’t sure what it was at first, but as the hair on the back of his neck stood up, realization dawned. Sinclair was there. Not somewhere in Billings or Montana. He was watching them right then, plotting his next move.

Cora stiffened beside him and he glanced down to see her searching the parking lot. That was all it took for him to know she’d seen the moment in a vision.

“Keep walking,” he ordered, using his hold on her to keep her moving toward the Jeep. “Do you know where he is?”

“Somewhere across the street.” Her eyes squinted as she tried to recall details. “He’s behind a dark van or SUV.”

Gavin pulled his keys from his pocket and shoved them into her hand. “Go to the Jeep.”

“What are you gonna do?” She looked up at him, her face pale with fear.

“Find him. Go.” He pulled his arm away from her shoulders and started to veer across the parking lot, heading toward the street.

“Gavin!” Cora screamed behind him.

He turned to find her running toward him. She threw herself at him just as a sharp crack of a gunshot echoed through the quiet street. He opened his arms and caught her as she fell against him. A flash of movement across the street drew his gaze, and a few moments later there was a squeal of tires as a dark sedan tore out onto the road and away from them.

He’d missed his chance. Sinclair was gone. He grabbed Cora’s upper arm and tugged her along with him.

“What the hell are you doing? I told you to go to the Jeep.”

“He was going to shoot you,” she said as she climbed into the passenger seat and wrapped her arms around herself.

The tremor in her voice only fueled his fury toward Sinclair for daring to threaten them and at her for putting herself in danger. How could she have done that? He slammed her door shut and stomped around to the front of the vehicle before going back to yank open her door again. He paused to take a deep breath and some of his anger for her drained away as he took in the pale glow of her face.

“You knew what he was there, Cora. Why didn’t you get in the Jeep?”

“He was going to shoot you,” she repeated faintly.

“Well, he missed.”

“I know.” She loosened the hold she had on her left arm and held her hand out in front of her. Blood covered her palm. “He hit me instead.”

Shock cemented Gavin in place as he stared in horror at Cora’s blood.

“I don’t think it’s too bad,” she said and the shaky words propelled him into motion. He pulled her from the vehicle, turning her so he could see where she’d been hit.

The sleeve of her gauzy white shirt was ripped and through the blood-soaked hole, he saw where blood gushed from the side of her arm. He reached for the neckline of her shirt, gripping it in both hands. She leaned back.

“What are you doing?” She pressed a hand back over the wound.

“I need to see it and we need to stop the bleeding.”

“So you’re going to rip off my shirt? I don’t think so.”

“It’s not like you’ll be able to wear it again.”

“No, but I don’t fancy the idea of standing around half-naked for a bunch of gawkers to ogle.” She inclined her head to the side, and sure enough, a small crowd had gathered outside the restaurant, drawn by the sound of gunfire.

How stupid could people be? Any intelligent person would be sheltered inside waiting for police to clear the area. Then again, he’d known what Sinclair had planned, yet he walked straight toward the coward.

“Fine. Sit down.” He lifted her to sit her sideways on the seat, her legs hanging outside.

“Yo, man!” yelled their waiter from the side entrance of the building. He held up his cell phone and waved it in the air. “I called the cops.”

“Thanks,” Gavin called back. “We need an ambulance, too.”

“No, we don’t,” Cora protested. “It’s a scratch.”

“Scratches don’t bleed like this. You might need stitches.”

“It doesn’t even hurt.”

“Because you’re in shock. Give it a few minutes, and it’s gonna hurt like a bitch.”

He reached into the back seat and dug into his gym bag. Finding his hand towel, he pulled it out and nudged her hand away and replaced it with his towel-wrapped hand.

“What are we going to tell the cops?” she asked as the sound of approaching sirens reached them.

“Nothing.”

“We’re going to lie to the police?” She stared up at him in surprise.

“No. We tell them the truth. We didn’t see who did it and we can’t describe the vehicle.”

“But …”

“It’s the truth.”

“So lie by omission.”

“Sinclair has someone working for him in the County Sheriff’s office, and he might have connections to the local police. Providing too much info could tip our hand and give Sinclair the edge again.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Besides, what do you think would happen if we started going on about visions of the future and secret government experiments?”

A weak smile curled her lips. “Good point.”

The police arrived, and while one of them spoke to Gavin about what happened, the other gave first-aid to Cora until the ambulance arrived. Gavin watched with eagle eyes as the EMT took over, cutting away Cora’s shirt sleeve and checking the wound. At the EMT’s urging, Cora agreed to let Gavin take her to an emergency center. Two hours and ten stitches later, they were headed back to Thompson Creek.