Nothing to Fear

  His eyes flashed and his fingers tightened against the small of her back. He sucked in a breath. “Not here. I can’t do what I want here.”

  Oh, God. The very words brought a host of images to her mind, each one more erotic than the last. “What do you want?” It was a whisper, a husky, throaty whisper.

  He stared, hard. Seemed to consider his answer for a long moment. Then he dropped his head so that his lips just brushed her ear. “I want to make you forget your own name.”

  She did whimper then, her hips arching, bringing her even more solidly against him. Every nerve ending she possessed was on fire. Her heart was beating harder than if she’d actually had sex. And he’d used nothing more than words. He straightened, let his eyes drop to where her breasts rapidly rose and fell in the little black dress. Then raised them to meet her eyes. And cocked one blond brow. It was her turn.

  So this is foreplay, she thought. She’d never experienced it before. Not in a bedroom and certainly not on the street. But she could be taught. She leaned up, licked the corner of his mouth. Made him groan, a deep, wonderful, throaty sound that made her tingle down to her toes. “It’s a short name.” She licked the other side of his mouth and his hand left her hair and closed over her butt, kneading convulsively. She could feel him trembling. Trembling. “Only four letters. You’ll have to work hard to make me forget.”

  His eyes glittered. Dangerously, she thought. But she wasn’t the least bit afraid. “Oh, I think I’m up to the task,” he said silkily.

  Her lips curved. “Oh, I think you are, too.”

  Then he smiled and completely took her breath away. “Good morning, Dana.”

  “Good morning, Ethan. How are you?”

  “Better now that I’m with you.” He kissed her then, deep and rich and full and when he lifted his head, she sighed. He kissed the tip of her nose. “And you?”

  “You make me feel better, too,” she said. “I don’t know how you do it, but you do.”

  “I’m glad. Are you ready for breakfast?”

  “I am. And I’m really hungry. Those hot dogs were a long time ago.”

  That they were, Ethan thought as he opened the door for her. His heart was finally coming back to a normal pace. He’d thought it would bang right out of his chest when she asked him what he wanted. He’d kept it light, because he’d thought what he really wanted might scare her to death, but now he wasn’t so sure. When he found Alec, returned him to Randi safe and sound, he sure as hell planned to find out.

  Betty eyed them curiously as they slid into their booth. “You two go out on the town?”

  Dana smiled and once again sent his heart hammering in his chest. “Nothing so exciting, I’m afraid. Ethan has to run soon, so can you make his breakfast fast?” She waited until Betty was gone, then leaned forward. “Let’s not mention Caroline being in the hospital. It would just make Betty worry and Caro has enough people worrying from Max and his family right now.”

  “That I understand. Clay—you know, my partner—he’s the same way with me.”

  She lifted a brow, studying him. “You seem pretty healthy to me.”

  His eyes flickered. “I am now. I wasn’t always though.”

  After a beat of hesitation, she asked, “What did you hurt in Afghanistan, Ethan?”

  “Richard and I were thrown from our vehicle when it hit that land mine. I hit my head.” He shrugged. “Blacked out. Woke up in the hospital with brain swelling. It was a long time before I could string three words together coherently. The words were there, just out of my reach. That was . . . frustrating.”

  He was such an intelligent, articulate man. “I imagine so,” she said, holding his gaze.

  “I still get headaches sometimes. Migraines with visual aura, the doctors called them.”

  “You can’t see for a little while. I had a client with those. Not optimal, but manageable.”

  It hadn’t been so hard telling her about his headaches at all. She seemed to take it in stride. He could respect that. He leaned back and just looked at her for the pleasure of doing so. She was rumpled and had long ago worn away all traces of makeup, yet he still found her beautiful and fascinating. More so now that he knew who she truly was. He wondered why she’d kept it secret. “Was it a client in your photography business?”

  She blinked. One long blink. “That client? No.”

  He waited, but she said no more. Betty came with coffee and when she was gone Dana sighed. “You asked about me last night. I said I would tell you and I will. Maybe not all at one time, because it’s hard for me to talk about some of it. You’ll just have to be patient.”

  “I’ve been known to exhibit that quality occasionally,” Ethan returned dryly. “Go.”

  She drew a deep breath as if fortifying herself. “I was born here in Chicago. I’ve never been out of Illinois.”

  Ethan’s eyes widened. “You mean you’ve never seen the ocean?”

  “Not even once.” She sipped at her coffee thoughtfully. “I never really missed . . . what I’d missed. Not until recently. I’m not sure why I seem to lately.” She brooded a moment, then abruptly charged forward. “My father was an alcoholic and my mother worked as a hotel maid to keep food on the table.” She raised a brow. “Does that make you think badly of me?”

  She wanted to appear as if she didn’t give a damn if he did or not, but Ethan could see his answer was important. “No.”

  “All right. My dad died when I was ten. My mother married again when I was twelve. He was worse than my father.”

  Ethan got a sick feeling in his stomach that must have shown on his face because she waved her hand and shook her head. “No, it wasn’t like that. He didn’t molest us. He just beat the shit out of us. And her. My mother. I hated him and he hated me. I got rebellious and when I was fourteen I quit school and ran away.”

  “Us?”

  “I have a sister.” From the set of her mouth it was clear that was the end of that topic.

  “But you didn’t leave Chicago.”

  She laughed. “Hell, I didn’t even leave the South Side. I met up with a rough crowd and . . .” She paused. Considered. Lifted a shoulder. “And I got pulled in for some petty theft. Did a stretch in juvie. Now do you think badly of me?”

  That wasn’t in the information he’d found, then again, being juvie it wouldn’t be. “No.”

  “Okay. I got out of juvie and they sent me home. My stepfather whaled the tar out of me for a few weeks, then one day I’d had enough. I’d learned a little on the street. How to do some damage with a blade.”

  Ethan’s eyes widened again. “You stabbed him?” Go girl. Good for you.

  “Only a little. I should have waited until I’d learned how to do a little more damage with a blade. I got him, but not like I wanted to. He probably should have had stitches.” She smiled as if genuinely amused. “But he was afraid of needles, too. Kind of ironic, isn’t it?”

  “You say was. Is he dead?”

  Her eyes flickered. “Not yet. I expect it soon. He’s sick and old and dug his hole so deep nobody will pull him out. Especially not me. Does that make you think badly of me?”

  He was becoming annoyed at the question. “No. Is your mother still living?”

  Now her eyes didn’t just flicker. They flashed with a pain so intense it left him breathless. Then she dropped her eyes and sipped her coffee. “No. My mother died.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Her mouth drooped. “Me, too.” She squared her shoulders. “But back to me.”

  He held up one finger. “Wait.” Betty was coming out of the kitchen with their food and he suspected Dana wouldn’t appreciate her listening. She waited until Betty was gone again before she picked up the salt shaker and salted her eggs.

  “After I stabbed him, I ran away again, because I wasn’t going back to juvie. This time I knew how not to get arrested for picking pockets. I could be taught, you see.”

  He said nothing because he had no idea of what to say. His o
wn childhood, although lonely, had been idyllic in comparison to hers.

  “I learned a little here, a little there. Things a law-abiding citizen probably shouldn’t know. Ran some scams. Never did drugs, I can say that. Well, maybe a little pot, but I never inhaled and that’s the story I’m sticking to. Luckily I never saw the seedier side of the runaway strip either. But one day I got caught trying to steal a car. I never did get the hang of that hot-wiring thing. I guess I would have made a lousy electrical engineer. Unfortunately I was eighteen by then. Now I’ve got a felony record. Do you think badly of me?”

  Ethan shook his head, so incredibly touched that she’d shared this with him and knowing full well he’d never tell that he’d known already. “Not yet. You’ll have to do better than that, Dana.”

  “I met a guy waiting for my appointment with my parole officer. Charlie was his name. The guy. Not the PO. Charlie had a Harley.” Now her brown eyes twinkled, again in what seemed like genuine amusement. “I was a biker chick for about a year. Even got me a tattoo,” she added in an affected drawl. “Eat, Ethan.”

  He did need to eat quickly. He was chasing a woman with a tattoo, ironically enough. “So where is it?” he asked, then gulped down eggs that wanted to stick in his throat like kindergarten paste. “Your tattoo.”

  She waggled her brows. “Maybe someday you’ll find out.” Then she sobered. “That’s why I told you. If you were to check on me like I checked on you, you’d see my record.”

  “So? Did you pay your debt to society?”

  “I copped a plea. Thirty days served, two years probation. Was barely in long enough to get head lice.”

  “You were a kid.”

  “I was an eighteen-year-old with more bravado than brains. If it makes a difference I went back later and apologized to the person whose car I tried to steal.” Her lips quirked mirthlessly. “She told me to go to hell, but I tried. To make amends, not to go to hell.”

  “I guessed that,” Ethan said dryly. “What happened to Charlie?”

  She swallowed a bite of eggs with a shrug. “I married him. It went about as well as you’d think a marriage made in a parole office would. Charlie, as it turned out, had a lot in common with my father and stepfather. When he got drunk, he got violent. One day I ended up in the ER getting poked with needles and thought, This sucks. So I left him.”

  There was a great deal she’d left unsaid, but he didn’t press. Not today anyway. “That’s why he’s so ex he’s way past Z.”

  She smiled ruefully. “You got it.”

  “Well, I still don’t think badly of you and I really want to see your tattoo.”

  Her grin was quick. “You are a nice man, Ethan. I’ll try not to hold it against you.”

  He pushed their plates out of the way and reached for her hand across the table. “I think you’re a nice woman, Dana. I think you’re a lot harder on yourself than you are on everyone else.”

  Her eyes went just a little bit sad. “It’s late, Ethan. You need to go.”

  “Wait.” He’d nearly forgotten about the cell phone he’d bought her. “It’s got five hundred minutes preloaded.”

  She lifted one brow at his outstretched hand but made no move to take the phone. “I don’t take what I haven’t earned, Ethan.”

  Which he might not have understood before today. “You let me buy you breakfast. Take the damn phone, Dana.”

  “Breakfast costs $6.95. A phone costs a hell of a lot more.” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t let Caroline buy me a phone, why should I let you?”

  “Because Caroline doesn’t want to see your tattoo,” he retorted and made her laugh. “There. Take it. It’s the only way I know how to get in touch with you. My numbers are programmed in, both my cell number and the hotel where I’m staying. I don’t know when I’ll be free today and I want to see you later. For dinner.” He slid the phone across the table and watched her look at it. “You don’t have to hot-wire it, Dana. Just press the pretty numbers, listen with the top part and talk into the bottom part. You don’t need to be an electrical engineer. I promise.” He stood up and straightened his tie.

  She looked up at him with a wry expression. “You think you’re so funny. Okay, I’ll take the damn phone for now, but when you go back to D.C., it’s going back with you.”

  His heart slammed up into his throat. When he went back to D.C. She said it like she didn’t care if he went back or not. But he was going back. On that she was right. When he found Alec, he’d go back and resume his old life. Which seemed even emptier than it had before. Shoving his confusion aside, he bent down to press a hard kiss on her lips. “Go home and get some sleep. Call me if you need me. I’ll see you for dinner tonight.”

  Chicago, Tuesday, August 3, 6:45 A.M.

  Sue didn’t have a lot of time. Dupinsky had called the shelter from the hospital saying she’d be back by seven-thirty. That left Sue less than an hour to get a new ID and get back to the shelter. It would be easier to find prey this time of the morning, before the population of the city flooded the streets. Especially if the ID bearer was just getting off work and too tired to be careful. She picked up her pace when an acceptable candidate stepped off the El.

  Sue matched her stride. “Excuse me.” The woman was young, a little overweight, dressed in Winnie the Pooh scrubs lightly spattered in blood. How apropos. She glanced over her shoulder with a wary frown, then took off at a brisk walk. Sue paced the woman, timing her attack. “I’m from out of town, miss. Can you help me find my address?”

  “Sorry,” the woman mumbled and kept moving. Good instincts, Sue thought. But ultimately not good enough. With a shoulder check that would have done any hockey player proud, she shoved the woman into the next alley, pulling her pistol from her waistband to the woman’s temple in one fluid motion. Like a damn ballet, it was.

  “Don’t say a word,” Sue muttered and watched the woman’s eyes widen in terror.

  “Take my purse,” the woman begged in a hoarse whisper. “Just don’t hurt me.”

  Sue rolled her eyes. They never listened. They always said a word. Sometimes a whole string of words. One little squeeze of the trigger, the pop of a bullet making contact with bone, and alacazam, the blood splatter on the woman’s Winnie the Pooh scrubs was greatly increased. The silencer had really been a smart buy. Quietly, the woman slumped to the ground and Sue picked up her purse, found her wallet.

  Today she was Kristie Sikorski, pediatric nurse, mother of three.

  Chicago, Tuesday, August 3, 7:30 A.M.

  Dana still felt the tingle on her lips when she pulled into the alley behind Hanover House an hour later. Even the short kisses left her senses reeling. But more astonishing than even the kiss itself had been the look on his face right before he’d kissed her. She’d made herself say it, “When you go back to D.C.” She’d made herself acknowledge once again that he was not a permanent fixture. The cell phone gesture had been so kind . . . so domestic . . . She’d had to remind herself that whatever they had would last only as long as they were in the same city. And as soon as his business was done, he’d be gone.

  She’d expected him to chuckle. She hadn’t expected him to look like she’d punched him in the gut. As if he’d forgotten he’d return. As if he wasn’t thinking what they had was temporary after all. And just thinking he’d thought it made her heart tremble.

  The trembling was replaced by annoyance when she pushed on the back door and found it unlocked. Evie always forgot to lock the damn door. With a frown she pushed it shut and snapped the three deadbolts shut. The top one didn’t creak. David had greased it for her when he fixed the roof on Sunday.

  David. The frown became a scowl. He’d pushed too far last night. But he had been right about one thing. She’d placed Caroline and everyone else at risk.

  “You never came back last night.” This quiet observation from beside the coffeepot came from Beverly, their resident who was ready to leave the nest. Tomorrow was her good-bye date, in fact. Today would be her last
day at Hanover House.

  “No. I stayed at the hospital all night.”

  “How is Caroline?” Beverly poured Dana a cup of coffee and handed it to her.

  “All right for now. Thanks.” The coffee was strong, the way Evie made it. “Evie’s here?”

  “She’s upstairs with the new kids.”

  Shauna Lincoln, the mother Caroline had picked up on Sunday night. Shauna had finally arrived, toting two toddlers with infected tonsils who had cried all day yesterday.

  Beverly closed her eyes on a faint shudder. “Those kids cried all night.”

  Dana patted her shoulder. “You’ll probably get a screaming baby on the bus with you all the way to California.” And laughed when Beverly grimaced. “You ready, Beverly?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be. Dana, thank you. I’d probably be dead today if it weren’t for you. I’ll miss you.” Quickly Beverly hugged her, then overcome, rushed out of the kitchen and up to her room. It was a much-needed affirmation. Dana knew her work was vital. Critical. But she also knew it was dangerous. Something had to change.

  But for now, Dana had to smooth things over with Evie. Their phone conversation last night had been anything but cordial. Dana found her in her bedroom, sitting on the edge of her bed, rocking one of the sick babies. Evie’s dark brows rose. “Caro?”

  “Better this morning.”

  “Good.”

  “She has a ripped placenta.” Dana watched Evie pale, but her rocking didn’t falter. “They may need to take the baby early if she doesn’t stabilize.”

  “Hmm,” was all she said. Then, “Erik came down for food at about two in the morning.”

  Dana’s eyes widened. “Erik? That’s wonderful!”

  “No, not really.” Evie continued to rock, her voice cold as ice. “He was lucid. Extremely lucid. Eyes bright, movements steady. Until he wolfed down three chicken legs in the space of two minutes. Then he threw up all over the kitchen floor.”

  Dana drew in a breath, let it out on a sigh. “Jane’s been taking him his meals in their room. Apparently he hasn’t been getting enough of them.”