Taken (16 page)

She ordered herself to forget about him. She needed to relax, unwind, get some sleep. Tomorrow was a new day.

She could start again, figure things out.

She wondered if Nick was sleeping. He’d refused to leave her alone in the house, and while she’d put up a halfhearted argument, secretly she’d been relieved to let him stay. She was more than a little scared. Her home had been violated, her privacy invaded. Someone had gone through her underwear drawer, touched her things. She shivered at the creepy thought, feeling more uncomfortable by the moment. Shadows from the moonlight slip-134

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ping through the blinds danced like scary monsters on the walls. A clock on the bedside table ticked off the minutes like a time bomb. Every little creak made her think of footsteps. Was Evan just outside the door?

She kicked at the covers with restless legs and moved onto her back, staring at the ceiling. Her thoughts turned from Evan to Nick and J.T. The three men had lived together in college and now had been brought back together again. That couldn’t be a coincidence. She should have asked Nick if there was anyone else, any other roommates about to come out of the woodwork. She should have asked him more about what had happened in college. She needed to know exactly why Evan wanted revenge, and how far he would be willing to go before he was satisfied. And she needed to know why she was in the middle of their old feud.

Was she just a consolation prize? Had he married her to tie her to Nick, to give Nick another rope around his neck? Did Evan even care about the watch? Maybe he’d just liked it and kept it. He certainly hadn’t kept his wedding ring. He’d stuffed that in the pocket of the jacket that he’d thrown into the casino garbage. He could have pawned it, not that it would have been worth much, but something. Or was a simple gold band too low-class for Evan?

How could she know? He was a stranger to her. It was hard to believe how quickly she’d gone from love to hate.

They really were two sides of the same coin. Of course, lies and betrayal had a way of flipping that coin. And somewhere along the way, anger had replaced sadness and worry. She didn’t care about Evan anymore, because he’d never been real; he’d just been an illusion. He’d become her “dream guy.” She could see that now.

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She’d mentioned things she liked and suddenly he was giving them to her. At the time it had been subtle, but in retrospect blazingly clear. She couldn’t have created a better man if she’d waved a magic wand.

Well, it was done, over, finished. She wanted only two things now: to get her watch back, and to put Evan in jail.

Then she could truly move on with her life.

She rolled over on her side. She heard a loud thump next door. Was it the bed frame hitting the wall, or something more ominous? Next came a voice — Nick’s? Was he talking on the phone to someone in the room? Her stomach churned. She wondered if something else was wrong. She stared at her closed bedroom door, wishing she’d locked it.

It was nothing, she told herself, holding her breath until all was silent again. Her imagination was just working overtime. She had to sleep.

Forcing herself to close her eyes, she tried to think of a happy place. She’d always loved the beach at sunset, all those glorious colors — the sky, the ocean, the sun —

mixing together. She could see it in her mind, the yellows turning to oranges and reds, the water glistening in the fading light, the heat humming through her body as Nick’s mouth came closer. . . . Wait, that wasn’t the way it went. She tried to focus on the ocean, the sunset, but she couldn’t stop the memory of their kiss, that foolish, impetuous, angry kiss that had ignited a flame she couldn’t quite put out.

It was just the rush of adrenaline, the fear of the un-known that was heightening her senses. It wasn’t Nick. It wasn’t her. It was just the situation, she told herself firmly. She just had to go to sleep. . . .

*

*

*

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Nick tossed and turned, the dream taking over his brain. He didn’t want to go there. He didn’t want to remember that night, but Evan’s mocking blue eyes were pulling him back.

He was striding down the stairs to the basement of
their apartment building, to the storage room, where he
knew Evan was running a card game. Tonight he would
prove that Evan was a liar and a thief. He had to save
Jenny from herself. She hadn’t believed him when he’d
told her that Evan was working so many schemes Nick
didn’t know how the guy had time to sleep. Evan had or-ganized a female cleaning service, sending supposed
maids to dorm rooms, only they were doing a lot more
than cleaning, and Evan was pocketing the money.

Jenny hadn’t believed him when he’d told her about
the call-girl ring or the pyramid scheme or the test selling or the drug running. She’d sworn he was making it
up, that he would say anything to tear them apart.

Jenny didn’t know the man she was sleeping with. She
was a sweet, innocent girl who thought Evan was good,
but Nick knew now that there was nothing good about the
bastard he’d been calling a friend for the past six months.

He’d told Evan to stay away from Jenny. Evan had
laughed in his face. Jenny had told him to stay out of her
life.

Nick had no choice but to take Evan down. He’d called
the police. They said they would investigate. He couldn’t
wait that long. He opened the door and saw six guys sitting around a card table. A pile of money and chips
showed Evan to be winning. Not for long.

Evan smiled when he saw him, as if they were friends.

They weren’t.

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“He’s cheating,” Nick said. “The cards are marked. I
can prove it.”

Everyone started talking at once, everyone but Evan.

Their eyes met. Evan got to his feet.

Suddenly it wasn’t between them anymore. Jenny came
into the room, demanding to know what was going on.

One of the other guys jumped up. “Evan is cheating,
stealing our money,” he said, his eyes wild from whatever
he’d been drinking or smoking.

Nick saw the knife at the same time he saw Jenny step
in front of Evan.

He cried, “No!” as the knife came down on her.

By the time he’d reached her side, she was on the
ground. Her shirt was covered in blood, her eyes wide
and shocked.

“Hang on,” he told her. “Call nine-one-one,” he
yelled, but everyone was running from the room, including Evan. He stopped to offer one last taunt.

“You did this to her,” Evan said. “It’s your fault.”

Nick turned back to his sister, desperate to save her.

Her eyes fluttered closed.

“No!” he screamed again. “You can’t die. Don’t die.”

He looked around wildly but the room was empty. “I need
help. I need help.” Everyone was gone. His sister was
hurt, and it was his fault. He tried to get up, tried to get
to the door. He couldn’t seem to move. He was stuck,
trapped, and Jenny was dying. He screamed in frustration. He had to save her life. He had to.

Kayla thought someone had broken in and was attacking Nick, but he was dreaming, wrestling with the covers as if he were fighting for his life. She put out a tentative hand. He knocked it away.

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“Nick, wake up,” she said loudly.

“Gotta get help. Get help,” he muttered, trying to get out of bed.

She put a hand on his shoulder. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. His skin was hot and clammy, his breathing coming hard, as if he’d run a marathon in his sleep. His brown hair was tangled and matted with sweat. She gave him a shake. He blinked and grabbed her arms as he sat up fast.

“Don’t,” he said wildly. “Don’t try to stop me.”

“Nick, you’re dreaming. It’s me, Kayla.”

“Jenny’s dying.”

“Jenny’s not here. It’s just me. Come on, Nick, wake up.”

The clouds in his gaze slowly began to clear. “Kayla,”

he muttered. His hands burned on her arms. She would have pulled away, but she didn’t want to startle him again until he was all the way back to reality.

“What were you dreaming about?” she asked quietly.

He thought for a moment. “Jenny. God. It was Jenny.

I thought she was dying.”

“Jenny is your sister, right?”

He nodded. “She wasn’t supposed to be there that night. She wasn’t supposed to get hurt. I was going to take Evan down, not her. But she stepped in front of him.

She took a knife in the chest. She lost so much blood. I had it all over me, my hands, my shirt, my jeans.” He paused, lost in thought. “She almost died. It took forever for the ambulance to come.”

“But she didn’t die, right?” Kayla said, wanting to remind him of that important fact.

Nick swallowed and cleared his throat. “No, she didn’t die, but she could have. I blew it. I didn’t protect her. I was her big brother. That was my job. I failed.”

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She heard the bitter condemnation in his voice. Nick was a man who hated to fail, and also a man committed to his family. She admired that. “You tried. That’s more than most people do.”

“I’m not most people. Tried isn’t good enough.”

“Sometimes it has to be.” As she gazed into his eyes, she saw something change. He’d lost that dazed look of the past. He was in the present now. His hands were stroking her arms. His hard, muscled chest, covered with a smattering of dark hair, was just inches from her breasts, breasts that were spilling out of her camisole top.

She’d been in such a rush to get to him, she hadn’t even put on a robe, and she was suddenly very aware of her skimpy shorts and clingy shirt.

Nick’s gaze slid down her face to her throat, her chest, zeroing in on her breasts. She felt her nipples pucker in response, and a shiver ran down her spine, but it wasn’t from the cold; it was from the heat. She tried to look away, but no place was safe. She loved the little hairs on his chest, the way they tapered down to his flat abs, disappearing beneath his boxers, shorts that were showing a definite and impressive bulge.

“I . . . I have to go,” she said hastily.

His hands tightened on her arms. “Do you?”

Did she? Dear God, why did the question seem so difficult to answer?

“Stay,” Nick murmured. “We can . . . talk.”

“You should go back to sleep.”

“The last thing I want to do right now is close my eyes.”

He leaned forward so slowly she had plenty of opportunity to move, plenty of time to weigh her options, to say
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no if she wanted to. But she couldn’t think with her body tingling in anticipation.

He kissed the corner of her mouth, then slid his tongue across her lips to the other corner. It was a teasing touch that only made her want more.

Just a kiss, she told herself. What was the harm in that?

His lips were hot and sensuous. She felt herself melt-ing inside. He put a hand on the back of her neck, bringing her closer, wrapping his fingers in her hair as he tasted her again and again with his mouth. Each time she wanted to pull away. Each time she went back for more.

She didn’t want to think. Thinking was highly overrated.

Feeling was so much better.

His mouth left her lips and made a slow journey across her cheek. His tongue swirled around the shell of her ear, then the sensitive point on her neck, drifting down to her throat, to the pulse that was hammering wildly. He pulled her skin gently between his teeth, a mark of passion. She could feel the tension building within him, within herself.

Her senses were screaming contradictory commands:
Hurry, go slow, hurry.
She told herself she didn’t want this, but she did. She wanted all of it.

His hands cupped her breasts, kneading and plumping, running his fingers across her nipples. His mouth dropped lower. He slid his tongue along the edge of her camisole. She ran her fingers through his hair as he pushed down her camisole and put his mouth to her breast. He took his time there, attending to one breast and then the other, his heat shooting through her until her nerve endings were on fire.

He rolled her onto her back on the bed. His gaze met hers in a question she answered only with a nod. He lifted the edge of her top. She helped him pull it over her head,
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then fell against the pillows as his mouth returned to her breasts before moving down to her navel, his tongue swirling around the edge. His hands were on her shorts, teasing at the waistband for one long second. She wanted him there. She wanted him everywhere.

And she wanted to touch Nick as he was touching her, but he shifted away, pulling down her shorts as he moved between her thighs. He cupped her buttocks. His breath blew on the soft curls he found there. She caught her breath in an agony of anticipation. And then his tongue was on her, his mouth, his fingers. . . . Her body trembled and shook. She felt the pressure building inside her, and she tossed her head on the pillow, begging him to stop, begging him to keep going.

He tasted her until the tremors ran through her, until she called his name, and then he was sliding back up her body, settling his hardness between the soft, wet heat of her thighs, kissing her hard on the mouth. She pushed at his boxers, wanting nothing between them but skin and muscle. He trapped her face with his hands, his eyes burning with desire. She saw a question in them.

“Don’t ask,” she murmured. “Don’t say anything.”

“Do you want to think about this?” he asked, ignoring her plea.

“I definitely don’t want to think.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. Just make love to me, Nick.”