“What’s going on?” Ellis asked.
Without speaking the man entered his cell and closed and locked the door behind him. Ellis knew immediately something wasn’t right. No corrections officer or jailer entered a cell alone. Especially not in the middle of the night. The hairs on the back of his neck began to crawl.
“What the fuck is this?” Ellis asked.
“Put your hands up,” the jailer said.
Ellis raised his hands. He noticed the small device in the other man’s hand. It was about the size of a garage door opener, only it had two metal prongs on one end. His heart began to pound. “What the fuck is that?”
“Turn around.”
Uneasiness trickled into fear. For an instant he considered not obeying the command. But the guy was big. Ellis had had his ass kicked by enough corrections officers to know what would happen if he got belligerent. Slowly he turned. “It’s one o’clock in the fuckin’ morning. What the hell are you—”
Five hundred thousand bolts of electricity hit him in the back like a baseball bat slamming in a homerun. Ellis heard an animalistic sound echo inside the cell. Then the floor rushed up and slammed into him.
For several seconds he lay on the cold tile floor, his thoughts disjointed, his body paralyzed. Vaguely he was aware of movement around him. The jailer placing something around his neck—some sort of soft fabric—and he wondered why he would do that.
Somewhere in the backwaters of his mind, it registered that this was not procedure. That whatever was being done to him was not supposed to happen. Convicts had rights, after all. You didn’t just walk into a cell and hit someone with a fucking stun gun no matter what they’d done.
That was when he realized he was in very big trouble.
“What are you . . . doing?” he said in a voice that was much too weak to be his own.
“Shutting you up, I guess.”
The fabric was jerked taut on the last word. On instinct, Ellis reached up to put his fingers around the noose to keep it from choking him. A second loud crack! split the air. Another five hundred thousand volts of electricity screamed through his body.
Ellis felt his body go rigid. He tried to get his fingers between his neck and the noose, but his arms refused the command. The next thing he knew he was being pulled upright by his neck. His feet left the floor. The pressure on his windpipe cut off his oxygen. A terrible sound ripped from his throat. He kicked his feet, and his body began to swing. He could feel his eyes bulging in their sockets. A freight train running through his head. At some point he’d wet himself.
He lifted his hands, dug his fingers between the noose and his throat, but his strength was waning. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Oh, God, why were they doing this to him?
He looked at the man standing in the cell. At first he couldn’t figure out why he had to look down to make eye contact. Then he realized the man had used a length of fabric to hoist him up and over the rail of the top bunk.
Ellis’s face felt as if it would burst. He kicked but his feet found only air. He tried to scream, but when he opened his mouth no sound came. His tongue felt huge and dry and useless. His vision went black and white.
The cell began to spin.
His bowels let loose in a rush.
I’m dying, he thought.
And darkness closed over him like death.
THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 12:59 A.M.
Frank lay in the darkness and listened to the whisper of Kate’s breathing, trying not to think too much about what he’d done. They’d made love twice. The first time it had been awkward and fast and desperate. The second time had been slow and intimate. Eye contact had never been broken, and the experience had moved him in a way he’d never been moved before. Not even with Gittel, and that scared the hell out of him.
Even now, he couldn’t get the sound of Kate’s cries out of his head. The way she’d looked at him when he’d brought her to peak. The shock and joy and wonder he’d seen in her eyes. He couldn’t quite get his mind around the fact that this was the first time she’d had intercourse.
Jesus.
He’d never thought of her as vulnerable. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Kate Megason was one of the strongest, most headstrong, and maddening people he’d ever met. But she hadn’t been any of those things tonight. They’d been intimate in a way that went beyond sex. He’d looked into her eyes and he’d seen the secrets of her soul.
Frank had liked what he saw. Too much, if he wanted to be honest about it. There was a part of him that wanted to help heal her. A part of him that wanted to protect her. From the pain of her past. From whomever was stalking her. From himself, maybe.
But he was in no position to protect anyone, let alone a woman as complicated as Kate. He suffered from chronic pain. There were days when he wasn’t fit to be around another human being. There was a good possibility that he was addicted to narcotic painkillers. Not the kinds of problems he wanted to lay on her when she already had so much to deal with.
He was still hung up on Gittel. Beautiful. Laughing. Kind Gittel. He’d loved her more than his own life. He would have pulled his own heart from his chest if it would have kept her from dying. But Gittel had been intractable and reckless. She’d felt passionately about her cause. In the end, those things had killed her. Killed a part of him, too. A part he wasn’t sure he wanted back. He couldn’t bear the thought of caring for another woman and losing her.
He glanced at Kate, and the parallels between the two women struck him. Made a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck. Something akin to panic rose in his chest. He could hear his breathing quicken. His hands begin to shake.
Throwing off the comforter, he rose and walked naked to the bathroom. Closing the door, he flipped on the light and turned to the sink. The man staring back at him looked pale and shell-shocked, his eyes filled with a terrible realization.
He’d fallen in love with Kate.
He’d done the one thing he’d sworn he would not.
“Jesus.”
Feeling the churn of nausea in his gut, Frank turned on the tap and bent to splash cold water on his face. He did it again and again until the shaking and nausea subsided. Then, with water dripping off his face, he looked into the mirror and whispered, “What the hell are you doing?”
Kate was awake when he walked back to the bedroom. He wanted to slide back into bed with her, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to dig this hole any deeper than it already was. But she looked incredibly lovely with her hair mussed and the comforter pulled up just high enough to cover her breasts. She looked happy and sated and slightly embarrassed. His response to that was instantaneous and instinctive. Standing there naked, he could no more hide it than he could hide one of his arms.
“Next time I want to know what you’re thinking, I’ll just take off your pants,” she said.
Frank couldn’t help it. He laughed. Leave it to Kate to say just the right thing at the wrong time. His heart was beating heavily in his chest when he crossed to the bed and slid beneath the comforter. For an instant they were both lying on their sides, facing each other. He could feel his need for her crawling inside him, but he couldn’t make himself reach for her.
After a moment she slid toward him, just close enough to brush her mouth across his. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing.” He hadn’t meant for his voice to come out so rough.
She pulled back and studied his face for a moment. “You look . . . troubled.”
It was difficult to have a conversation when he was hard and wanting her. That was the problem with women. Sex got in the way of doing the right thing most of the time.
Only this time, Frank didn’t know what the right thing was. The sex had been good. It had been a hell of a lot more than just sex, even though he wouldn’t dare admit it. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Kate. But she was touching him in a place he didn’t want touched. How the hell did he convey that to a woman who’d opened her heart and soul t
o him and not hurt her?
Sighing, he pulled her to him. She snuggled against him and put her head on his shoulder. “What’s wrong, Frank?”
“I’m overthinking this.”
Her expression went wary. “Overthinking what?”
He turned to face her. “Us. Kate, it was erotic and intense and . . . incredible.” The words didn’t begin to convey what he felt, but Frank had never been very good at putting his feelings into words. For Kate, he was going to try.
“I think there was a but in there somewhere,” she said.
Reaching out, he put his hands on either side of her face. She was so lovely, it took every ounce of control he could muster not to pull her to him to devour her mouth. But while her gaze was level and direct, he sensed the fragility just beneath the surface.
“You know I suffer from chronic pain,” he said. “I sustained an injury when I was overseas. I’ve been taking narcotic painkillers for the last year. I’m a functioning addict. That’s why I’ve been late for work so much.”
“I know,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It happened. I’m dealing with it.” Yeah, right. “I have a lot of pain, Kate, and I’m a son of a bitch when I’m hurting. I need the painkillers often. Almost every day. Sometimes it’s bad. But even when I’m not hurting, I find myself wanting a pill. I find myself wanting to use these meds as a crutch. When something goes wrong. When life gets tough. I’m not proud of it, but I’ve done it. More than once.” He sighed. “You saw it the night you came over to my place.”
“That’s a tough situation, Frank. To be on a highly addictive medication for a year and not become addicted.” She hesitated. “OxyContin? OxyContin is a tough drug.”
“Yeah.”
She bit her lip. “Have you considered getting help?”
He hated the way that sounded. As if he had the willpower of some junkie. “I think I can kick it on my own, but I’ve got to deal with the injury first.”
“What kind of injury?”
“Shrapnel from a bomb. I almost lost my right leg. Took about three hundred staples and four surgeries to save it. But the nerves were severely damaged. Weeks passed and the pain didn’t go away. A couple of months later I was diagnosed with reflex dystrophy syndrome.”
“A nerve disorder?”
“It’s chronic and relatively rare. Happens with a high-impact injury.” He shrugged. “We’ve tried everything except surgery.”
“What kind of surgery?”
“It’s called sympathectomy and basically entails cutting the nerves. It will alleviate the pain, but I’ll lose all sensation in my leg.”
He wasn’t sure why he was telling her this. Trying to warn her off, maybe. Scare her away. But it wasn’t what he really needed to tell her. While being addicted to narcotics was bad enough, what he really needed to tell her was that he was incapable of giving her the kind of love she deserved. That kind of love had been torn from his heart the day Gittel died in his arms. Kate deserved better. She deserved a man who could give her his whole heart.
For several minutes they were silent, the only sound coming from the branches of the live oak scraping against the window.
“Who’s Gittel?”
Frank nearly started at the question and looked at her sharply. “How do you know about her?”
“You called me that the night I came over to your house.”
For an instant he didn’t know what to say. Words tangled in his throat, but none of them were right. “I met her when I was overseas. She was from Jerusalem. We were . . . together.”
“You were in love with her?”
Frank smiled, but it felt false on his face. “I was going to ask her to marry me.”
Kate blinked and he knew he had surprised her. “What happened?”
He hadn’t wanted to get into the details. Not tonight. He should have known Kate would ask. “She was killed in the same explosion that injured me.” Not just killed, he thought, torn to pieces.
“I have a feeling we’re just now getting to that but part of erotic and intense and . . . incredible.”
Frank turned to her. She was smiling, but he didn’t miss the skitter of nerves in her eyes. “I saw her die.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It fucked me up inside. It changed me.”
“Witnessing something so horrific would change anyone. But people heal, Frank. So will you.”
“Kate . . . what happened between us tonight reminded me of how good life can be. But I had no idea you hadn’t . . . That I was—”
“My first?”
He didn’t want to think of it that way, because it made him feel like a son of a bitch. “You deserve someone who can help you heal. A whole man who can give you his all. A man who can make you happy. You get tangled up with me, and I’ll drag you down.”
“What are you trying to tell me, Frank?”
“I’m telling you that I’m good at fucking things up. That I’ll probably fuck this up. I’ll fuck up what we have.”
“How can you know that?”
“I’m tapped out,” he said. “There’s nothing left.”
“You’ve been hurt, Frank. But you’ll heal.”
“I don’t want to hurt you. If we get any closer I’m afraid that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 1:23 A.M.
Kate stared at him, a hundred emotions rising and crashing inside her. She couldn’t believe he was telling her this. That he was ducking and running. Not Frank, whose inner strength she had come to admire so much. Not after everything they’d just shared. But the truth in his eyes was unmistakable, and Kate felt it like a stake through her heart.
“It’s okay to have sex, but add some emotional depth to the mix and you turn tail and run like a coward.” The words were out before she realized she was going to speak. He reached for her, but Kate was faster and slid from the bed, taking the top comforter with her.
Wrapping the sheet around his hips, he rose and crossed to her. “I’m telling you this to protect you.”
“Protect me from what?”
“Me. Goddamn it.” He sighed. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Oh, that makes me feel a whole lot less used.”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “I didn’t use you, damn it. I didn’t know—” He bit off the words, his eyes skittering away.
But Kate knew what he was going to say and it infuriated her. “You didn’t know I’d never slept with anyone before? What’s the matter? Not casual enough for you?”
“I’m trying to do the right thing.”
“You’re trying to take the easy way out.”
“There’s nothing easy about any of this. Damn it, I care about you.”
She laughed, but even to her the sound had a bitter ring. She’d given him the power to hurt her. He’d taken that power and yanked out her heart. Whether he’d meant to or not didn’t matter. “I want you to leave. Now.”
Frank knew he should do exactly that. He could hear the voice in the back of his head screaming for him to take that first step toward the door. But the part of him that cared for her couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her hurt and angry and with so many words between them left unsaid.
For several long seconds the only sound came from their heavy breathing. Indecision and raw emotions he didn’t want to feel pulled him in different directions. His feelings for her terrified him. He knew just how quickly a loved one could be snatched away. He’d experienced the gut punch of grief. The black gaping hole of loss. Two things he never wanted to feel again as long as he lived.
But the primal side of him didn’t give a damn about feelings or intellect or right and wrong. All that side of him knew was what he wanted. The need screamed through him with every beat of his heart.
“Goddamn it.”
Crossing the distance between them in two resolute strides, he put her against the wall and crushed his mouth to hers.
Her body went rigid ag
ainst his. He could feel the need clawing him, his control teetering on a dangerous edge, his intellect shouting for him to pull back and get the hell out of there. But when it came to Kate, Frank didn’t have a rational bone in his body. He kissed her long and deep and hard, trying desperately to convey all the things he couldn’t say. After several moments her body melted against his. He put his hands on either side of her face and feasted on her mouth, her neck. She didn’t put her arms around him, but she didn’t resist, either. It was all the encouragement he needed.
She gasped when he lowered his head and took a taut nipple into his mouth. She arched, giving him full access. Frank suckled her hard, wanting her deep in his mouth, needing her until he thought he would go mad with it. At some point he’d dropped the sheet. He could feel his cock against the smooth flesh of her belly. She was trembling. Choking back sobs. Breathing heavily. And he wanted her more than he wanted his next breath. More than he wanted to do the right thing.
Reaching between them, he tugged the comforter from her grip. He caught a glimpse of her surprised eyes. Her mouth opening to voice the protest he knew was there. He silenced her with a kiss. His hands were on her breasts. In her hair. The soft skin of her shoulders. He couldn’t get enough. Had to have more.
In a single, smooth motion he swept her into his arms and swung her around. Two steps and they tumbled onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs. Frank came down on top of her. In the back of his mind he worried that this was too rough for her, too fast, too intense. But he could no more keep himself from ravishing her than he could stop the wild beat of his heart.
He wedged himself between her legs. She opened to him and he thrust into her and went deep. A keening sound tore from her throat when he began to pump. Then she was raising up to meet him, taking him deeply into her body. She was wet and tight, her body already contracting around him, driving him toward release at a dangerous speed. Her head went back and an instant later she climaxed.
Frank held back as long as he could, but his control had long since left him. He ground his teeth against the impending orgasm. A guttural sound ground from his throat as he emptied his seed inside her. Closed his eyes against the barrage of emotions that followed, refusing to feel any of them.