Lie with Me (20 page)

Or hunting it down, she supposed.

Her danger had once come from a different source. She remembered sitting there in the hospital, watching her own body betray her. Wondering what she’d done wrong. How much longer she could hold out. Even now, she stared down at her inner arms, ran a palm down one of them, remembering IVs and blown veins, black-and-blue marks.

There was still a light scar near her collarbone from the central line. Cam had run his fingers over it the other night—and then he’d kissed it, even when she’d closed her eyes tight and tried to forget how many scars her body held.

Too many for a woman.

She turned from him on the bed, because she’d already revealed way too much, too fast, and this whole thing was crazy.

When he’d asked her earlier about whether or not there had been other threats made to her before this one, she hadn’t wanted to go there, revisit the past. But he had to know, whether or not it applied to the current situation.

It was something she’d never told anyone. Somehow, sharing secrets in the dark seemed safer, even though she knew it wasn’t, that everything could come back to haunt her.

You have to trust someone, Sky
.

Instincts, baby girl
.

She lay on her side, head on the pillow, facing the window. When the next words came out of her mouth, they surprised even her. “Was there ever anyone special? I mean, could there be?”

“I don’t think it’s possible. Not with my job. Don’t get me wrong, plenty of Delta guys do it. But it’s hard on them, hard on their families.”

“Their wives must get used to being alone. A lot.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m alone a lot too. I used to tell myself that it was by choice.”

“Same here.”

“Are you alone because … because you don’t want to hurt someone the way we just talked about?” she asked finally.

“Maybe. I never really thought about it like that.”

“I think I’m alone because it’s easier. They told me that, even with the transplant, there are no guarantees.”

“There never are, Sky.” He paused, and then, “You said you started writing when you got back.”

She nodded. “It was like, I had everything to lose, and nothing to lose. I could get lost in something else, didn’t worry about machines beeping and nurses and transplant lists.” She paused, aware of how strident she sounded. “I’m not alone when I’m writing, if that makes sense.”

“Yeah, I get that. That’s why you were so upset when you couldn’t write.”

Even though he seemed to understand her, to get her in a way she never thought possible, she still couldn’t bring herself to turn back to him when she asked the next question. “Do you ever see it changing? The alone thing, I mean, whether you’re out of the military or not?”

“We should get out of here,” he said abruptly—and okay, point taken. Especially after he dropped his hand from her shoulder and rolled off the bed, without so much as a backward glance.

And yeah, she’d checked over her shoulder.

Even though he’d consoled her after the dream-slash-nightmare, and he’d lain down beside her, he hadn’t tried to so much as kiss her again. Or touch her in any way that couldn’t remotely be considered chaste.

She drew her arms over her chest as if to protect herself. Last night had obviously been nothing more than a mercy fuck, and although it had gotten her battery charged … the knowledge that it had been a one-night stand was almost too humiliating to bear.

The fact that he was saving her life? Well, that made her plan on sticking it out despite all of the humiliation.

She heard Cam mutter, “Shit,” saw him holding on to the wall for dear life.

Instinctively, she grabbed on to him and helped him over to the bed. He didn’t argue, let her lead him back into a sitting position on the edge of the bed.

“Thanks. Dizzy,” he said finally.

She realized he was shaking, and sweating a little. She reached up and wiped his forehead. “You’ve got a fever.”

“I’ll be okay—the antibiotics will kick in soon.”

“Do you think it’s shock, from the blood loss?”

He snorted. “A few stitches and suddenly you’re a doctor.”

“I’ve spent enough time in hospitals to pick up a few things myself.” Add to that the research she’d done for her books, and yes, there were times she wished she didn’t know as much.

But he had antibiotics in him. That in itself was a huge relief. Now if she could just make him more comfortable …

“Sky, I’m going to be fine. Won’t let anything happen to you, okay?” he murmured, his voice strong and soothing. “I’ve dealt with much worse and survived.”

She touched his cheek, stroked the rough stubble for a few seconds. “Let me help you get the fever down.”

“I’m okay.”

She heard the irritation in his voice, but she ignored it, left the bed to wet some washcloths and grab dry towels as well.

He’d remained with his arms propped on his thighs, and so much for the tough-guy routine.

“Cam, come on,” she said softly.

He didn’t argue any further, winced slightly when he sat up straight. Let her help him ease his T-shirt off.

She checked the bandage, looking over his shoulder. “I think the bleeding’s stopped.”

He simply nodded, but his color was already better.

“Come on, get into bed.” She’d propped pillows up against the headboard and he leaned back against them, sitting on one of the towels she’d laid out so the sheets wouldn’t be damp when he went back to sleep. “I think maybe we should stay here tonight.”

“No. I’m okay.”

“You’re not … but I know you will be.”

“I told you that already.” But his protest was gone, his eyes heavy-lidded and his arousal … well, there wasn’t a problem with that. She hadn’t realized that in the effort to get him leaning back, she’d sort of … straddled him.

And Cam, of course, didn’t seem to mind. And maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t lying when he’d said that the scar wasn’t a problem for him.

Or maybe it was simply a horny male response.

Staying in place, she ran the cloth along his face, holding it for a few seconds against his forehead, and he closed his eyes and leaned into her hand.

Her free hand stroked his hair away from his face. “I’ve got you, I’ll take care of you,” she murmured as she began to move the cloth across his forehead and cheeks, pushing his hair out of the way, then working the washcloth down his throat and chest.

He sighed a little. “Feels nice. Thanks.”

She brought the cloth to the back of his neck. And then she pushed back off his lap and unbuttoned his jeans and began to push them down over his hips, trying her best to ignore the arousal she found there.

He helped her, lifted his ass off the mattress so she could pull the soft denim down his long legs and push the jeans aside. He wore black boxer briefs, and they didn’t leave anything to the imagination. She remembered all too well what he looked like without them.

She continued the exploration down his chest, the image of what she’d seen last night in the shower, the feel of him on her in bed still so fresh in her memory, threatening to erase everything, including common sense.

And now, even though he was down, he was in no way out. She noted that sinewed biceps, the muscled pecs … noticed that he was still hard as a rock.

“Problem?” he asked, with just enough innocence in his voice for her to know he was anything but at that moment.

“No problem at all.” Instead, she rubbed his chest down again while he bent a thigh up, trapping her somewhat in place. “You look better.”

“Just a momentary lapse. I’ll feel better once I get something to eat—shouldn’t have gone that long without anything.” He closed his eyes for a second and then opened them, the brilliant blue back, his gaze sharply focused on her. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” she assured him. He nodded, his thigh rubbing her side, his eyes locking her in place. She saw so many things there. Anger. Pain. Lust.

All she wanted was the latter to override everything.

CHAPTER

10

R
ocket didn’t move and the fight rose up in Riley suddenly and inexplicably and she knew without a doubt that DMH would not control her.

She’d rather die. But she’d fight tooth and nail before she let that happen either.

Rocket smiled, as if he knew her choice. Hands came from behind, pressing her throat as she’d expected, and she let her body go limp, her eyes focused on the gunmetal gray walls of the penthouse for a moment.

She tried to sink farther to the ground, but the brute wasn’t letting up on his chokehold.

She dropped the key to the penthouse to the floor, and Rocket watched it fall as the breath squeezed out of her. Spots swam before her eyes and she forced herself not to panic, because—no matter the outcome here tonight—she would be free.

In her other hand, loosely held, was a Chinese star, carefully laced with just enough poison that even the slightest hit with a point would cause near-instantaneous death. And as she sagged against the man holding her from behind, she released the spiked gold metal with a practiced flip of the wrist and watched with satisfaction as it hit its mark right beneath Rocket’s Adam’s apple.

She saw the surprise in his face as he clutched at the star, even as the man who held her loosened his grip, unsure of what to do next. But she knew; she turned hard and brought her knee up to his balls, because that always worked to bring even the biggest man to his knees. But he was up quickly, slamming her first across the side of the face and then landing another blow on the top of her head, hard enough for her to know she’d have a concussion. On top of that, breathing was still not easy—she heard the painful wheeze coming from her throat as she attempted to draw in air.

From behind her, she heard Rocket groaning, cursing—he stumbled over the coffee table in a last-ditch attempt to grab her, his own weapon in his hand.

All she needed to do was duck and roll to elude the shot—his bullet hit the man in front of her and then both men were down, dead and unmoving.

She was down for the count as well, collapsed to the thick carpet. Her phone was ringing and she grabbed it, answered with a hoarse hello.

A calm voice simply said, “You killed my men.”

“Impressed?” she managed.

The man chuckled. “You might be worth more alive than I thought, little one.”

She fought the urge to gag. “I’ve already given you a major piece of intelligence. All I wanted in return was money. I didn’t ask for any ties to you.”

“You found us. That alone ties you to us. I thought you were smart enough to know that,” the man said. “You’ll get what’s coming to you in due time. Make no mistake about that.”

The line went dead and her vision began to blur. She managed to dial her phone because she couldn’t drag herself out the door and to the elevator, and she could only pray that Dylan found her before other men from DMH did.

S
leeping with Sky now would be wrong. Cam knew that and somehow couldn’t shake the ridiculous notion that she could somehow heal him. Fix the pain inside.

Unbreak him.

The way she looked at him told him she wanted that job, had already in part taken it on. “There’s so much about me you don’t know.”

“So tell me.”

Yeah, tell her—tell her what you just confirmed about Gabriel. Because that’ll really make her understand everything
.

And maybe it was the blood loss or the exhaustion … or Sky’s earnest look, because he knew he
would
tell her. Not all of it … but something.

“What I told you before, about my dad … I didn’t tell you the whole story,” he said. “I never knew what happened to him, not until recently, and I hated him all these years because he left me to take the heat for him.”

“What do you mean?” She sat back on her heels, watching him so intently that he almost shrugged it off. Wondered why the hell he’d started telling her anyway and decided it was the fever and the gunshot.

And the proximity to her. And the way she touched him.

Son of a bitch
. “It’s complicated.”

“Always is.” She tightened her hands around the washcloth and moved to leave the bed.

“He’s dead. At least as far as I can trust the source.” He ran a hand through his hair, realized just how fucking exposed he already was and figured he might as well go all the way. “I told you before that your father helped me.”

She nodded. “And that you don’t like him.”

He didn’t bother asking how she knew that.

“You hate my father—and yet, you’ll do what he asked,” she continued softly. “Why is that?”

Jesus, could he tell her? Could he really share that secret and keep the other ones from her?

Before he could think it through further, he said, “Your father got me out of jail.”

“Jail?” she repeated uncertainly, her words clipped. To her credit, she didn’t move from his arms. “But you’re Army. I didn’t think—”

“Again, your father. He wiped my record clean and helped me enlist, to start a new life.”

“Why were you in prison?”

“I was serving two concurrent life sentences for murder.”

She shifted, but she didn’t leave the bed. “I don’t … you don’t … You’re one of the good guys.”

He swallowed, hard, unable to voice how much her words of confidence meant to him. “I know everyone says they’re innocent, but I really am. I didn’t commit the murders I was convicted of. For a long time, I figured it was my father’s handiwork, but I had no way to prove it.”

“My God, Cam,” she breathed. “You really think …”

He took a staggered breath and then, “I knew my dad had gotten so deep in his cover that it was hard for him to know right from wrong anymore—maybe I even understand it a little bit better now. But then all I knew was that I did what my father asked me to do and ended up in jail, for what could have been the rest of my life.”

Sky’s eyes were softer than they’d been before, and she’d moved closer to him. “What makes you think your father would do that to you?”

“He came to me—it was three in the morning—handed me keys and told me to let myself in through the back door of the neighbor’s house. Not to ask questions. And I trusted him, so I did. Then I saw them—dead, on the floor in the kitchen. I bent down to check on them, getting blood on my hands. And I ran out of there, left the keys in the door and my prints everywhere, and I got on my hog and sped off, even though I heard the police sirens behind me. And they chased me until I knew I had no choice but to pull over. I thought that my father would come and straighten everything out. But no one came. The public defender said he looked for him, but our house had been all packed up and he’d left no forwarding address, either at his fake job or with the ATF.”