Run to Me (12 page)

The flawlessly handsome face across from him brought back a flash of bitter resentment. His parents would have been proud to call this animal their son. Simon and Lenora Whitman had made Donald’s life miserable. His father had been an avid outdoorsman; his mother, a health-food nut, always cramming vile garbage down his throat in an effort to make him bigger and stronger. They’d wanted an average kid … they’d gotten a genius … above average in every possible way. Neither of them had been able to understand or appreciate the supreme being they’d unwittingly created. Eventually he’d stopped trying to be what they wanted him to be, and they’d given up. And then the fun had begun.

Donald couldn’t remember the day he finally realized and accepted his superiority. The knowledge had just suddenly come to him. He had finally understood that though he might have been born to human parents, he was far from human himself. His intelligence went far beyond the normal realm. He was above everyone … all creatures. His parents had been ignorant, never realizing the gift they’d given the world. Their loss—not his.

The creature in front of him suddenly blinked and Donald’s mouth went dry. Now, that was the only thing he’d liked to change about him … his eyes. An eerie gray-blue, the color of glaciers he’d seen on a National Geographic program once. Sometimes those eyes would look at him, and if he didn’t trust his drug so well, he could almost believe conscious thought and awareness gleamed in them. Even though it was an absurd idea, a quiver shot through him. If this man ever became cognizant again, Donald knew he’d be dead in an instant.

“Look at me.”

Eyes, dull and dazed, stared at him without a flicker of intellect or awareness. Relief loosened Donald’s limbs. Only his vivid imagination working overtime … nothing more. With his kitten missing, he was disoriented … filled with nerves that made him see things that weren’t there. There was nothing to worry about. Control of this creature was in his hands.

“I have a new job for you. You will fly to Ohio, where you’ll retrieve two young men. They meet once a week at a bar. Since they always drink too much, a cab is normally called for them. You’ll be in the cab with Henry, who will be the driver. You will be able to handle both with no problem.

“Once you have them, Henry will drive you to a warehouse. You’ll stay there until I call. Then you and Henry will take them into the woods and drop them off. Neither will be damaged.”

He waited to make sure comprehension was attained. Since the face never showed emotion, Donald was limited to waiting for a small signal that the information had not gone through. A chill speared through him as he stared into the cold, soulless depths of those creepy eyes. This creature could snap a man’s neck like a twig. Swallowing past a frozen lump of fear, he opened the middle drawer of his desk and fingered his pistol. One click and that face would go even blanker and any threat would be gone.

He chewed his lip in indecision. If the plans he’d put into place didn’t result in getting the woman back, he would have to use this man. The need for his pet versus his fear of this creature. A brief glimpse of emerald eyes and dark red hair flashed through his mind. No, he couldn’t do it. He had to keep him.

“That’ll be all. Go to the training room.”

Despite the wide desk that separated them, Donald scooted his chair back when the creature stood. He was just so damned big. Without any kind of expression, the animal turned and stalked out the door, closing it softly behind himself as he’d been taught.

Only when the door clicked shut did Donald look down at his shaking hand, the one that had grabbed the gun. Perhaps after his kitten returned, he should go ahead and dispose of the creature. While he hated to destroy such perfection, the only other alternative would be to have his eyes jabbed out. And though that might be entertaining to watch, he’d be left with a useless animal. Pointless beyond the occasional playful amusement.

Yes, as much as he would miss him, it would be for the best. But only after he had his little cat back. And perhaps he could snare a golden lion, too?

Marching toward the training room as his master had commanded, he pondered what had just happened. The master was nervous. Sweat had beaded above his mouth; his hand had trembled on a gun he hid in the desk. His master feared him, though he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps he had displeased him in some way.

Learning that the redhead had been taken from him had upset him, evidenced by his command that the guards were to be punished. He had handled this order within minutes of it being issued. The master had seemed pleased with him, but only a short while later, he’d appeared to be displeased with everyone.

Perhaps losing the woman had created more problems for the master. Not that he was concerned with such issues. The master told him what to do, and he carried out those orders. The others in the compound served the same purpose. They existed only to serve.

The master had a certain fondness for the red-haired woman. He’d often been in attendance when the master and the woman were together. The concept of affection wasn’t something he could comprehend, but if it pleased the master, it had to be a good thing.

A garbled scream waking her, Shea shot up in bed and covered her face with her hands. Memories, blended with nightmares, played cruel, malicious games. Awake or asleep, they peeked out for barely a second, taunting her with elusive knowledge or a vague horror. A grasp for meaning resulted in their disappearance, leaving only a nebulous sadness and foreboding.

Dr. Norton had assured her that the poisons were slowly being eliminated from her body. He wasn’t sure how long it would be, if ever, before her memories returned. The dark void in her mind constantly searched for meaning, for knowledge. So far, other than tiny pockets of memory, she still had no idea of who she really was … other than Shea Monroe, former LCR operative and former lover of Ethan Bishop. And that was only because it was what she’d been told.

When she’d finally accepted that she was indeed Shea, she didn’t know. It was a gradual knowledge and understanding of something good and right. These people cared about her. She liked that feeling … didn’t want to lose it.

Even Ethan, beyond his grumpiness and gruffness, was kind to her. Though he did seem to delight in irritating her to the point of anger. For some reason, her temper amused him. Admittedly, anger felt so much better than the constant fear and sadness that pervaded most of her thoughts.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Shea pulled herself out of bed. She was tired of being afraid. Marching to the bathroom for her shower, she told herself to be grateful for what she did have. Her strength was slowly coming back. The lost, hollow look in her eyes had disappeared. She had people who wanted to help her. She no longer felt alone.

She had Ethan.

Under the hot blast of the shower, Ethan appeared in her mind. He was rugged and handsome, the savage scar on his cheek only adding to the character etched in his face. Green eyes, the color of clear peridot, could cut with a glance, but they could also grow warm with emotion. And his hair … she loved his shaggy mop of hair. How many times, when he wasn’t looking, had she fantasized about running her fingers through it? Wild and untamed, the look suited his personality.

Wringing her hair out, Shea pushed the shower door open and grabbed the towel from the hook. She stepped from the shower and gasped. Ethan stood in her bathroom.

Time froze.

She thought she’d seen his eyes reveal every emotion. This was a new one. Green fire flared, then blazed. Warmth spread through her body, and though she knew the heat should be from embarrassment, she was woman enough to recognize that it wasn’t. Ethan’s eyes burned with desire, and her body responded in kind.

Endless seconds later, he spoke in an odd, hoarse tone. “I knocked. When you didn’t answer, I got worried.”

Water dripped, pooled on the floor, and still she couldn’t move. A voice inside her whispered, told her to tell him to leave. She ignored the voice. The towel she held gave minimal concealment, yet she made no effort to completely cover herself. While his eyes roamed over her as if he were dying of starvation and she was a feast laid out before him, she stood, allowing his perusal. All the while, the heat inside her intensified, bloomed to a brilliant glow.

Coming to his senses well before she did, Ethan turned and stalked out the door. “I’ll be in your room.”

Stunned at the disappointment of his departure, Shea wrapped the towel around her body. Not only had she wanted him to continue looking at her, to touch her, she had wanted to touch him, to answer the fire blazing in his eyes. What was happening to her?

Ethan paced across the room. Pushing his fingers through his hair, he cursed himself. Just what the hell did he think he was doing? Staring at her like that? How was she ever going to trust him when he looked like he’d jump her bones the second he had half a chance? She’d been abused. Treated as if she were nothing other than property to be used and discarded. He had no business thinking what he’d been thinking. And he was thinking that Shea was more beautiful than ever.

Her skin looked as soft and silky as he remembered … like cream satin. How many times had they showered together and he’d ended up licking her body dry? The area behind her knees was especially ticklish, a spot at the small of her back could have her moaning in seconds, and his tongue on the inside of her silken thighs peaked her arousal to fever pitch. He closed his eyes as his erection grew and memories pounded.

The door opened and Shea entered the room, wearing jeans and a sleeveless green blouse. The expression on her face was impossible to read. Ethan fought the now familiar fury. This was another reason he would tear Rosemount from limb to limb when he finally caught him. Shea no longer wore her emotions for the world to see. Rosemount had destroyed that wonderful spontaneity she had once radiated. Every emotion she’d felt had been revealed on her beautifully expressive face.

Ethan swallowed his anger and forced himself to address what had just happened. “I’m sorry about barging in on you.”

Her brow furrowed in a confused frown. “You seem angry … shouldn’t I be the one who’s angry?”

“I’m not angry, and neither should you be. I made a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

Her mouth trembled as if she wanted to say something. Instead she nodded and darted around him.

“Dammit, Shea, I’m not going to hurt you.”

That stopped her in her tracks. “Well then, stop looking like you want to bite my head off.”

Fighting the image of what his mouth would like to do to her, he turned away and dropped into a chair across the room from her. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Okay. A little groggy.”

“Any flashbacks?”

“A few. Nothing substantial.”

“Such as … ?”

She rubbed her forehead, and though he’d rather eat glass than give her more pain, he needed to know as much as he could of what she remembered.

“The memories are vague … even more than they were when I first got here.”

“Dr. Norton said that’s to be expected. Apparently, withdrawal from the drugs is causing those memories to fade. We need to catch as many as we can before they totally disappear.”

She nodded. “I know … it’s just there’s so little. I remember wearing white … a uniform, I think. I remember a room filled with mats … and there was fighting. I don’t remember faces … all the images are blurred.”

The plastic sack he’d dropped and forgotten when he couldn’t get Shea to answer his knock caught his attention. Ethan leaned forward to pick it up and handed it to her. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“Art supplies.”

“For what?”

Another thing she didn’t remember. “You’re a very talented artist, Shea.”

Surprise and wonder flickered. “I am?”

Despite the reasons for bringing the supplies, Ethan was glad he could tell her something that at one time had given her great joy. “Yes, you’ve done some amazing sketches.”

She opened the bag and peeked inside. The vulnerable expression on her face when she looked up tightened his chest. “What if I’ve forgotten that, too?”

“Impossible. Something like that can’t disappear. It may take you a while to get the hang of it again, but you’ll remember. I promise.” He hoped to hell he was right.

Her smile of delight made him hesitant about telling her why he’d brought her the supplies. He forced himself to ignore the regret. The sooner they identified Rosemount, the sooner she could get her life back.

“When you get an image in your mind, I want you to draw it.”

Her mouth lost its upward tilt for barely a second. Then the grit and determination he’d always admired returned along with her smile. “That’s a great idea. I’ll work on that this afternoon.”

“Your hypnosis starts tomorrow. You up for that?”

“Absolutely. I want this over and done with. I’m tired of not knowing.”

“Good. Any nightmares last night?” Ethan knew the answer … he wondered if she did.

She shrugged. “A few … they’re getting better.”

She didn’t remember, which was a good thing. Every night since she’d been here, he’d come into her room while she slept. Her nightmares had been violent. Her screams and cries could be heard all over the building. Each time, Ethan had crawled into bed with her and wrapped his arms around her. Every single time, those nightmares dissipated and she slept deeply. At dawn, he’d force himself out of her arms and away from her before she woke.

Ethan stood. “I’ll check back with you in a few hours.”

“Wait … I’d like to go out for a while.”

His heart stuttered. “Go where?”

“Outside.”

“You go outside every day.”

Her soft snort of disgust told him what she thought of that small freedom. “I sit out on the patio, surrounded by a brick wall.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I want to go shopping, eat in a restaurant. Do normal things.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?” Eyes flashing, delicate chin lifted in a mutinous slant, her beautiful mouth plumped to a luscious fullness.