"I'm going back to the hospital with you," she said as he made a final check of the room. She barely noticed the Italian decor and European antiques strewn about like expensive beanbags. "I'll sit with Jack while you talk to Van-Dyne."
"No."
"I can't just sit around and do nothing." Her stomach clenched every time she envisioned him walking out that door without her. "I won't be able to sleep."
"Yes, you will." He slipped a small chrome pistol from his parka. "Take this."
Addison gaped at the gun. "You really know how to make a girl feel safe."
"It's a Colt Mustang semiautomatic. Take it into the shower with you. Take it to bed with you. Whatever you do, don't let anyone into the room unless it's me."
When she didn't move to take the gun, he reached for her right hand and placed the pistol in her palm. "Dammit, do as I say."
The gun felt like a chunk of ice in her hand. Surprisingly, the grip fit comfortably into her palm; her fingers reached the trigger easily. She listened half-heartedly as he explained how to use it. "The clip holds seven rounds. That ought to be enough to stop anyone if you get into trouble."
"How long are you going to be gone?"
“A few hours."
"Any longer and I'll come looking for you."
He looked haggard and tired and as dangerous as a cobra staring back at her.
She had the crazy urge to tell him she loved him. The idea shook her so violently she had to blink back tears. "Be careful," she said instead.
Raising his hand, he brushed his knuckles against her cheek. "Get some sleep." At that, he slipped away from her and left the room without looking back.
Chapter 18
Addison sensed his presence before she actually awoke. She heard the muted sound of his shoes against the Aubusson carpet, felt the bed shift as he moved over her.
She jerked awake, terror at the back of her throat, a scream buried beneath it. The room was dark. Blindly, she flung herself across the bed, toward the gun.
Two strong arms gripped hers. "Whoa, Addison. Honey, it's me."
The gentle voice lapped at the fear, smoothing it down, and it drained away, like water discarded after a cleansing bath. She stopped struggling. Randall. Close to her, touching her. She reached for him.
"Tate was here." She shivered as the memory of the nightmare swooped down on her. Garrison Tate had stood by the window and smiled at her. He'd spoken to her, but she couldn't recall the words. His presence had been powerful, oppressive and terrifying. Worst of all, she'd sensed that he wanted to hurt her.
Randall stretched out on the bed beside her. "It was a nightmare. Nobody knows we're here. We're safe."
A thin gray ribbon of light filtered in through the window. A glance at the crystal timepiece on the night table told her it was nearly eight A.M.
"How's Jack?" she asked.
"Critical, but stable. They removed the bullet earlier this morning. The doctor says he's going to make it, but he's got a long, hard road ahead of him."
Addison relaxed back into the pillows. "It just doesn't seem fair that he should have to go through this after everything he's already been through."
"Fairness just doesn't enter into it sometimes."
She thought about Agnes Beckett and her parents and silently agreed. "Did you find anything at the office?"
''The fire took everything. The computers. We didn't have fireproof files."
"I'm sorry, Randall. About the fire. About Jack. I'm sorry about everything."
"It's not your fault. You don't have control over any of this."
"How did it go with Van-Dyne?"
"He agreed to put two detectives on the case locally. If things pan out, he'll contact the feds in Washington"
"Just two men?"
"Says he's understaffed. He probably is. He's going to start with Jack's case, then delve more deeply into the Bernstein murder and the shooting at your shop. He agreed to contact Sheriff White up in Summit County about your parents."
She considered everything he'd said, but knew in her heart it wasn't enough. "What about Agnes Beckett?"
"We're going to have to play our ace."
"I didn't know we had one."
''The media. I called an acquaintance of mine who works for the Wall Street Journal. He's not a reporter, but he's got connections."
For the first time since this nightmare had started, she felt empowered. "They won't print anything that's not verified."
"No, but they damn sure have the resources to dig up the same information we did. I faxed him a copy of the newspaper article and told him everything. He's going to send someone to Siloam Springs."
"That's going to take some time."
"We need to lie low." He sighed. ''Tate is a powerful, connected man. We'll come off as crackpots if we don't keep a low profile. We've got to be very careful. We know he won't hesitate to kill."
"Isn't there some way the police can protect us?"
"I asked Van-Dyne about putting you in a safe house. He hedged. They don't have enough proof to warrant the expense. We're on our own."
"What about Jack? He's vulnerable."
"I talked Van-Dyne into putting a twenty-four-hour guard on him. If he hadn't agreed, I would have hired private security." Randall regarded her through dark, somber eyes. "It's going to take indisputable proof before the authorities cross Tate."
"What can we do? There's got to be something ...."
"I know a retired private detective from D.C., Clint Holsapple. He used to work the political circle. He's from Texas. He's good and may be able to get me close enough to Tate so I can flush him out."
Her pulse kicked when she realized he hadn’t mentioned her. "I'm the one Tate wants dead."
''This is no longer just about you."
"Don't try to shut me out. I'm involved, and I intend to stay involved until Tate is either behind bars or dead."
"I've already made reservations to fly to D.C. I'm not taking you with me. I'll put you up in a hotel in another city—"
"No! If you go to Washington, I'm going, too, damn you." Her voice shook with a sudden, wrenching burst of anger.
"It's too dangerous."
"I don't care about that. Don't you dare try to keep me out of this."
Cursing beneath his breath, he hit her with a look that would have sent a sane woman scrambling off the bed. Too bad he didn't know she'd traveled beyond the point of running away from him.
"This is dangerous, Addison. People have been killed—"
"I won't be shut out. If we're going after Tate, we do it together. Or I swear to God I'll do it on my own."
She started to rise, but he stopped her by grabbing her wrist. When she jerked away, he quickly rolled on top of her and pinned her to the bed. "He'll kill you, goddammit!"
"I won't let him."
"I can't work this case and look out for you, too. Dammit, I don't want that responsibility."
"That's not your decision to make, Randall. It's mine, and I've made my choice."
He stared down at her, breathing hard, his dark eyes flashing dangerously. Addison stared back, her heart raging. "I'm sorry," she said. "But I won't change my mind."
He scrubbed a hand over his face. "What the hell am I going to do with you?"
"Keep me by your side. Let me help you."
"It scares the hell out of me to think I can't keep you safe. If anything happened—"
"Nothing's going to happen," she said. "But there's no way you're going to prove he's a cold-blooded killer without my involvement."
"I didn't want it to work out this way."
Worry and exhaustion lined his face. She knew she was to blame because she wouldn't comply with his wishes, but there was no way she was going to let him ride into battle alone. This was her battle, too. They both had their reasons for fighting it.
"I've got a personal stake in this, Randall."
"So do I," he said harshly.
She kissed him, partly to quiet h
im, partly because she needed to feel him close. "I want to win this. I want to finish it. And I want us to be alive when it's over."
Cupping her face with his hands, he kissed her gently. "I'm too tired to fight with you."
"Don't shut me out. Please, let me help. I don't want anything to happen to you because of me."
"I can look out for myself, lady." He kissed her jaw and nipped at her chin, trailing kisses down her neck. "I want you."
Despite the heat spiraling through her, she hesitated. "What about our agreement? About us getting too close."
"We're already too close." Never taking his eyes from hers, he began working on the buttons of his shirt. "I'm willing to consider that agreement null and void if you are."
"You're going back to D.C."
"I'm here now. You're here. We're together, Addison. That's pretty straightforward."
She wanted 'to tell him that wasn't enough, that it would never be enough, but the future was too uncertain, her need for him too great.
"We're going to end up hurting each other," she said.
"Never. I'll never hurt you." His jaw tightened. He gazed down at her soberly. "You're inside my head. I didn't want that to happen, but it has."
"We'll deal with it," she murmured, because a small part of her understood. He was inside her head, too.
"Come here." He pulled her against him.
A primal thrill barreled through her as he tossed his clothes to the floor and slid under the sheets. Her senses vibrated with tension and pleasure as he skimmed a hand along her side. She closed her eyes, amazed that in the midst of danger and ugliness, he could touch her and make everything seem so right.
She sucked in an involuntary breath as his stone-hard erection pressed against the tender flesh of her belly.
"This is what you do to me," he whispered, his mouth lingering at her earlobe. "I don't stand a chance against you."
She wore only her panties, having had nothing else to put on after her shower. His hands roamed over her body, making her ache with a craving she'd never known. Back at the cabin, she'd been excited and overwhelmed by the passion and newness of what had happened between them. There had been an instant of pain and then intense pleasure.
Now, she knew what to expect. From him. From herself. Her feelings for him had deepened, solidified into something profound and inevitable. She'd willingly made herself vulnerable. Her body. Her heart. Her soul.
She gasped when he cupped her breasts. Desire bucked through her, taking her breath. She arched into him, her nipples tightening in response. Murmuring his name, she closed her eyes and gave herself over to him.
He crushed his mouth to hers. She opened to him, accepted his tongue. The tip of his penis nudged her pelvis. His breaths came hard and fast against her ear.
She cried out when he took a taut nipple into his mouth. Caressing the tender bud with his tongue, he sucked it deeply into his mouth. The need ripped through her, overwhelming her senses.
God, she was in over her head, drowning in passion and desire. Even in her wildest dreams Addison had never imagined she could feel so much. Physically. Emotionally.
Exquisite sensation rushed through her when he touched the tender folds of flesh at the junction of her thighs. She opened to him, giving him full access to her most private place. Her body was on fire, burning furiously out of control each time he touched her, like hot coals bursting into flame. He knew just where to touch her, how much pressure to use, when to back off. He stroked her, moving within her, sending lightning bolts of pleasure crashing through her.
Rational thought melted beneath the heat of his touch. Thunder roared in her ears as he took her to the precipice of her desire. "Come for me, Addison," he whispered between breaths. "Relax, honey." He kissed her breasts, one and then the other, crushing his lips against her flesh, stroking her, stroking. Driving her insane. Over the edge. Higher. "Come for me."
Addison couldn't speak. She'd traveled beyond self control. Her body ruled her now. Her mind shut down as he drew her ever closer to the peak, and she went with it, trusting him fully to take her there.
Bright white light flashed before her eyes as the orgasm engulfed her. It crashed over her like a tidal wave, taking her breath, dissolving all thought. There was only sensation, his name on her lips, bursting forth with each crest, with each aftershock that shook her all the way to her soul.
* * *
Randall felt her surrender as though it had been his own. He supposed that, in a way, it was. It frightened him to think he was falling hard and fast for Addison Fox.
The realization rushed over him like a violent flash flood, overriding his intellect and taking him against his will.
He hadn't believed it was possible for him—a veteran of life, of death—to have fate step in and show him a new trick. In his thirty-eight years, he'd learned to live without emotional attachments. He'd learned to believe love didn't exist. Then came Addison with her clean soul and faith in the human spirit. She still believed in right and wrong, good and evil. She'd proven to him that goodness was very much alive, more powerful and real than anything he'd ever known. He'd thought he was immune to her. He'd thought he was above it all. God, what an arrogant fool he'd been.
He watched her crest, then closed his eyes against the emotions churning inside him. He'd never felt so swept away, so driven by something as intangible as his heart.
For a moment, the only sound between them was the harsh sound of her labored breathing. He'd needed to see for himself that he could reach into her, affect her, touch her soul.
When she opened those dark, sweet eyes and smiled, he knew he was forever lost.
"I love you," she whispered on a breath.
The words jolted him, their meaning shaking him to his very core. "Those are dangerous words," he said.
"It's a dangerous world out there, Talbot."
She'd said the words carelessly, but he didn't miss the shadow of hurt. And he realized she'd expected him to respond in kind. The thought sent a ripple of panic slicing through his belly.
"I didn't mean to terrify you," she said.
"You didn't."
"Liar."
"Come here." Reaching for her, he pulled her close. He didn't trust himself to speak. He wasn't sure what he would say if he did. Something stupid, more than likely, that would suck him in even deeper than he already was. He cared for her, but for whatever reason, he couldn't bring himself to say the words. He didn't want to dig any deeper into his own soul. Nor did he want to dig any deeper into hers. One of them would be hurt if he did.
"Nothing this good lasts forever," he murmured.
She clucked her tongue. "Such a cynic."
How could he tell her he loved her when he wasn't even sure what the word meant? How could he let her get tangled up with him when he was leaving for D.C. in a few weeks? "You deserve better than what I can give you, Addison."
He didn't miss the quick flash of anger. "That sounds like a cop-out. You don't strike me as the kind of man who takes the easy way out."
"I care too much about you to hurt you," he said.
"Then stop talking about what I do or don't deserve and listen to what your heart is trying to tell you."
Closing his eyes against the rush of emotion, he moved over her and kissed her deeply. "It's not that simple," he said after a moment.
"Life's complicated sometimes."
He kissed her again, hungrily, wanting to lose himself in sensation. Lust hummed through his body. He concentrated on that. All he wanted to feel was need. Simple, fundamental, physical need. He wanted sex and release.
To hell with anything more complicated.
Cradling her face between his hands, he pulled back and looked into her eyes. "I want you," he whispered, suddenly afraid she was slipping away. "I want you more than my next breath, more than anything in the world. That's all I can say. That's got to be enough right now."
''That's enough," she murmured. "Make love to me."
r /> He entered her slowly, watching her eyes glaze, her mouth tremble. He shook with sensation as her heat sheathed him. He closed his eyes as emotion exploded inside him. He cursed fate and thanked God in a single, ragged breath.