Unsanctioned Memories Page 15

  “Never what?” she breathed when he fell silent. More rain spattered her skin, cooling the fire that had nearly consumed her.

  The sky rumbled overhead, and Sam smiled, right there, close to her face, his eyes warm and full of laughter. “You’ve been saving up for that kiss.”

  She’d been waiting all her life for that kiss. With a knowing smile of womanly delight, she tipped her head back into the basket of his fingers. “Yeah. I guess I have. It was worth it.”

  Another dollop of rain hit her face and splashed up onto his. An innocent giggle tumbled from her throat as she reached up to wipe the droplets off his nose and chin.

  “You’re getting wet,” he teased, using the pad of his thumb to erase the moisture puddling at the corner of her mouth.

  And then the heavens spoke. Sam and Jessica gave up the cause as the skies opened up and the rain blew in like a wall of water. In a matter of seconds they were drenched to the skin and barely able to see.

  “Come on,” he urged, tucking her hand into his and pulling her up onto the porch behind him.

  Pressing their backs against the cabin’s log frame, they tried to avoid the deluge. But the wind was blowing the rain in horizontal sheets now. Lightning lit up the dark, greenish sky, sending wicked forks of raw electricity down to earth. Harry howled at the ear-splitting crack of almost simultaneous thunder.

  Jessica opened the screen door and he dashed inside, probably heading straight for the insulated quiet of the basement. She pushed the door shut and turned to take a closer look at the sky itself. The fireworks of their kiss were momentarily forgotten as Mother Nature’s fireworks took on an ominous importance. “I’d better get inside and turn on the TV. See what kind of weather warnings we’re under.”

  “You don’t have tornadoes in September, do you?” Sam asked, turning his back to the rain and shielding her from the worst of the stinging drops with his body.

  “Unfortunately, yes.” Jessica raised her voice to be heard above what sounded like millions of footsteps running toward them. “But the sirens would have gone off. I’m more worried about flash flooding or—” The rain suddenly changed color and form and became tiny pea-and marble-size pellets of ice that bounced and pinged and piled on the ground. “Hail.”

  Sam turned and took a step toward the stairs. “This will blow over fast, won’t it?”

  Jessica thought of the farmers whose crops had yet to be harvested. She pictured a brief image of Alex’s Porsche and the number of dings the hail would leave in its bright red finish. “Not before it causes a lot of damage. But, yeah, the temperatures will even out in a few minutes. I think the rain will stay with us for a while, though.”

  Sam’s shoulders rose and fell in a heavy sigh. He faced her with a rueful smile. “I’d better get upstairs, then, so I have time to dry off by morning. I expect we’ll have some cleaning up to do.”

  He’d taken two strides toward the end of the porch before common sense and personal desire had Jessica reaching out to stop him. “You’d better ride out the storm in here with me. I have a basement in case it gets really ugly.”

  Sam glanced down at her hand where it rested on his forearm, then up at her mouth, silently reminding her of the kiss they’d just shared. “It might rain through the night.” His eyes were intent when his gaze met hers. “Are you sure?”

  She understood what he was saying—how comfortable would she be, alone with a man in her cabin, possibly overnight?

  Well, she had a bed and a sofa and a full-size basement. She had Harry and she had her shotgun. But most of all, she had her blossoming trust in Agent Sam O’Rourke.

  “Jess?”

  “Come in out of the rain, Sam.” She reached up and brushed aside a lock of thick black hair that water had plastered to his forehead. She understood what he needed to hear. “I’m sure.”

  THE RHYTHMIC DISSONANCE of steel scraping against stone was the only sound in the room.

  He’d had enough. It had built up inside him like this before, and he knew if he didn’t act quickly, he’d lose control of the situation. And losing control was out of the question.

  It had always been about taking control.

  He sat on the edge of the bed, sharpening the blade of his pocketknife. His chest was bare above the waistband of his dark jeans. It was a man’s chest, a strong chest, a symbol of his power and virility. But the bitch didn’t understand that. She cast him aside as if he was weak or unimportant.

  It was her face he saw in the whetstone beneath every sweep of the knife as he honed it to a razor-sharp edge.

  “She can’t have everything her way.” No one but the shadows in his bedroom could hear him.

  He sat in the small circle of light created by the lamp on the bedside table. Everything was laid out in order, ready to go. His bag was packed, his phone and laptop were ready.

  Beside the black stocking cap, his collection of pocketknives was arranged on top of the bedspread, and from that selection he’d chosen this particular knife because of its fine teakwood handle. It had silver trim with two engraved initials that had been worn nearly smooth from years of use. The thing was an antique. It had cost him a pretty penny to obtain it. But there were few like it in the world, and she had such an appreciation for fine old things.

  It seemed appropriate.

  She really shouldn’t have told him what to do. She should have appreciated the effort and sacrifices he had made to be there for her. But there’d been no thank-yous, no grateful kiss.

  The muscles in his arms and chest contracted and strained to the point of shaking as the resentment and anger coursed through him. She had no right. “The damn bitch has no right.”

  She was still out there, walking around, commanding her little empire. She’d made him look foolish, as if she had power over him. He’d looked her in the eye and seen that she didn’t recognize him. But she could hurt him if she ever did remember. She could destroy everything he wanted.

  But he could destroy her first.

  He would take away her power.

  He might have failed once, but he would not fail again.

  The tension passed as he remembered that he would be in control tonight. That was all he really needed to be happy—control. Love and affection weren’t all that important anymore. Just seeing her grovel, apologize, beg. Respect his power. Believe in him. He’d tell her what to do tonight. He’d show her just how strong and powerful he really was.

  He picked up the cell phone and made a call. He preferred the distractions of the city when he did his work. It was so much easier to get lost in the chaos there. It was a very clever cover for him. But since he couldn’t get her to the heart of the city, he’d create his own distractions. His request was very simple to the man who answered at the other end of the line.

  “Do you have it yet?” The responding curses and complaints about the weather and weird things were irrelevant. “Get it. Tonight.” He disconnected and returned to his work.

  The wildness of the storm outside was a distraction in itself. It would suit his purpose as well as any dirty, shadowed, overpopulated city street.

  Her time was coming. He’d make her suffer. He’d make her pay. She would never tell him what to do again.

  The knife moved in methodical circles.

  Chapter Nine

  The telephone rang at half past eleven, startling Jessica as she set the last letter of her word on the game board in front of her.

  “I’ll get it.” She turned in her chair to reach for the phone beside the computer on her desk.

  “Let me.” Sam O’Rourke moved entirely too fast for a man who was so tall and big and packed with muscle.

  She barely managed to get to her feet and block the phone with her hips against the front of the desk. “Don’t be silly. My house, my phone.”

  “Jess.” Overpowering her and wresting the phone from her grasp would have been easy enough, but Sam was hindered by his self-imposed don’t-touch, don’t-intimidate-the-hostess mo
de. Setting her aside or reaching around her would have brought them into contact with each other, something he’d been studiously avoiding ever since that kiss. “You really need a caller ID.”

  “Fine. Get me one tomorrow. I’m answering the phone.”

  “Dammit, Jess.” The dire tone in his voice left no doubt about his thoughts. Whoever had sent that e-mail or trashed her shed or attacked her might be trying to terrorize her again.

  “He wouldn’t call me.” There was no need to explain who the he was. “He works by stealth and deception. He’s not going to risk giving me a chance to talk back to him or recognize his voice.”

  The phone continued to ring, beefing up the tempo of urgency in the room.

  “What if it’s Templeton, inviting himself over? Trying to lay a guilt trip on you for not welcoming him with open arms?”

  She’d never allow that. “More than likely this is my parents calling to check on me because of the storm. Now, if a man’s voice answers my phone in the middle of the night, you’re either, A, going to freak out my dad and put undue stress on his heart, or B, going to have to start answering a lot of questions, because my mom can’t resist matchmaking for her kids. And right now you’re on her short list for me.”

  “There’s a list?”

  “Missing the point.” But his quizzical expression was all the distraction she needed. She reached behind her and picked up the receiver, twisting around to put it to her ear before Sam could wrangle it from her grasp. “Hello?”

  “Hey, did I wake you?”

  “Cole?” Jessica’s first reaction when she identified the voice was one of absolute delight. “Hey. Why are you calling so late? Where have you been? I miss you. You’re not caught in this storm, are you? Are you okay?”

  “Whoa, slow down, kiddo.” The deep-pitched laugh on the other end of the line flowed through her like a familiar hug and she took a deep, steadying breath. “It’s the only time I’ve had free. Can’t say where I’ve been. I miss you, too. No, and I’m fine. Did I cover everything?”

  Her second reaction was one of self-conscious awareness. Sam stood right behind her, close enough for her to feel the heat from his body, waiting for silent confirmation that the phone ringing after eleven o’clock at night was neither an emergency nor a crank call.

  She slipped her hand over the receiver and looked over her shoulder, up into those gray eyes that were braced to expect any danger. “It’s my brother,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”

  She held his gaze, waiting for him to stand down. With the slightest of nods he finally returned to his seat and began rearranging the letter tiles on the rack in front of him.

  Though she doubted his fascination with the task of forming a word to beat her last score was genuine, she appreciated his attempt to at least look as if he wasn’t eavesdropping. Still, she moved into the kitchen as she talked. The cabinets weren’t soundproof but they afforded her some privacy. She leaned her hip against the counter and pulled her attention back to Cole.

  “I think you covered everything except that cryptic message you left on my machine last night,” she accused with a rueful smile. “I’m sorry I missed dinner with you. But it’s been raining here for four hours. We’ve had tornadic winds and flash flooding, so I’m not going anywhere tonight. If you need to talk, I’m here to listen.”

  But Cole’s intuition about her had always been right on the money. “Are you alone?”

  Though nothing as personal or profound as that kiss had passed between them since coming inside, it was impossible to ignore Sam’s presence. He just didn’t seem to fit her cozy, secluded home. His shoulders were too big, his eyes too sharp, his scent too enticing for her to completely relax in such close quarters.

  She kept coming back to the way that kiss had made her feel, and wondered if she was ready to handle what those kinds of feelings might mean. Certainly a healthy man like Sam would want more than a kiss. Part of her wanted more, as well. But a bigger part of her—in that empty space where her confidence had disappeared along with her memory—wasn’t sure she could ever give a man the emotional and physical satisfaction he needed, and deserved, from a woman.

  She was learning to trust him as a friend. But could she ever trust him with her body? With her heart?

  Could she be trusted with his?

  “Jessie?” Cole prompted.

  “No, I’m not alone,” she hurried to answer, knowing her hesitation had already put him on alert. “The man I hired recently is here, too. I thought it was safer for him to stay in the main cabin during the storm.”

  “How well do you know this guy? Is Harry there with you?”

  “Cole—”

  “I have my reasons for asking.” He took a deep breath as if catching himself before letting something slip. “Just be careful who you trust right now. Okay?”

  “Now that’s cryptic. What is going on with you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Liar.” Her intuition had always been right on the money with him, too. “Something’s happened, hasn’t it? If there’s anything I can do—”

  “You can’t.”

  Her own fears receded behind concern for her brother.

  “Can Mitch or anyone else help?” Mitch Taylor was captain of the Fourth Precinct, a well-respected, well-connected cop. “You know we all love you.”

  “Hell. I love you guys, too. I wish…”

  “You wish what?” But there was no answer. She hugged her arm around her waist, wishing she could hug him instead. He was really struggling with something. “Cole?”

  “I want to come home. But I can’t.”

  “Of course you can.”

  “I can’t, Jessie. I want to see my nieces and nephews and eat Ma’s cooking and find out why the hell you were in love with a guy last year and now you’re holed up like some kind of damn recluse. But I can’t. It’s better that you stay safe.”

  “My God, Cole. Now I’m really worried. What have you gotten yourself into?”

  The already-tight dimensions of her kitchen shrank as Sam appeared at the opening to the dining room. She must have been broadcasting her fears like a beacon. Instead of feeling trapped and retreating a step, she moved toward him, taking his hand before even realizing she’d made the connection.

  “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Cole answered. “I just needed to hear your voice. My gut’s been telling me you’re in trouble. I’m not there to help and it’s killing me.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” Sam’s grip tightened around hers, absorbing some of her concern.

  She could imagine Cole’s blue eyes sparkling as he guessed her secret. “He’s more than a hired hand, isn’t he?”

  “Cole—”

  “He’s there with you right now, isn’t he?”

  She lifted her gaze to Sam’s, wondering if he could read her thoughts as easily as her brother. “Yes.”

  “Give me his name.”

  “Sam O’Rourke.” Sam’s eyes narrowed, questioning her.

  “Sam O’Rourke,” Cole repeated, as if he was writing down the name. “You tell Sam O’Rourke that if he so much as makes you cry, I will personally track him down and make him pay for hurting you. Understood?”

  Track him down. Make him pay. Two very dangerous threats. One very powerful reason for not telling her brothers about the man in Chicago who had truly hurt her.

  Though she’d changed into dry clothes hours ago, she suddenly felt chilled to the bone. She pulled her hand free and tucked it beneath her arm, feeling as vulnerable and overwhelmed and certain of her decision to face this alone as she’d been in that emergency room in Chicago.

  “That goes both ways, you know.” She, too, tried teasing to cover up her real pain. “If some woman is causing you trouble, point her out to me and I’ll set her straight.”

  “Not to worry, kiddo. You and Ma are the only women I’ll let into this heart.”

  “Oh, boo-hoo.”

  She wasn’t the only one making a show
of crying. At that very moment Harry ran up the basement steps and howled at the door. The long, mournful whine meant only one thing. “Sounds like supermutt needs you.”

  At last Jessica could muster a genuine smile. “You know how he hates the thunder. But I imagine he’s finally realized he can’t wait until morning to go. I’d better let him out.”

  “Okay. Say hi to Ma and Dad. And give everyone my love. That means you, too, kiddo.”

  “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”

  “Not this time. Just be safe.”

  Be safe. Ironic that he should somehow sense that she wasn’t.

  “I love you, Cole.” But he’d already hung up.

  “Problem?” Sam asked. He’d taken a step back as soon as she’d released his hand, giving her plenty of room to move past without touching him if she wanted.

  He probably thought he’d frightened her again. Oh, yeah, she had a lot to offer a man like Sam. Secrets. Paranoia. Mood swings. The hypnotic drone of the dial tone played on like an ominous portent of her future.

  “Yes.” Harry howled again, breaking the spell of doom that had fallen over her. He trotted over to her, gave her a let’s go look and then went back to the door. She fixed a smile on her face and hung up the phone. “But there’s nothing I can do.” She nodded her head toward Harry. “This problem I can help.”

  With Sam following at a respectful distance, she circled around the armoire and unlocked the back door. As soon as she opened it, the moldy smell of the rain-soaked earth hit her sinuses through the screen. Jessica crinkled up her nose and followed Harry out onto the porch, breathing in the dampness, desperately needing some fresh air to clear her head from the turmoil of her emotions.

  Though the worst of the storm had passed, rain still fell in a straight, steady curtain beyond the edge of the porch. Harry hesitated at the top of the steps, sniffed the air, then slunk out across the yard and disappeared behind the barn.

  Jessica shivered, huddling inside her blouse as the temperature finally felt like autumn.