The Edge of Recall (19 page)

He framed her face with his hands. “Was it the monster?”

She nodded.

“What did he say?”

“That if I said anything, he’d find me.” Her whole body shook.

“Who is it, Tess?”

“I don’t know.”

He stroked the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “What doesn’t he want you to tell?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t know or won’t say?”

“I don’t know, Smith.”

He expelled a breath. “Something happened, and it’s thrown your whole world askew. It’s infuriating.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. Don’t ever apologize for that. It’s not your fault.”

She expelled her breath. “I don’t know what it is, or was, or if it’s real at all. Maybe something’s just wrong in my brain.”

“Did Dr. Brenner tell you that?”

“No. He insists there’s not.”

“Good, because I don’t think you’re responsible.”

“I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t try so hard. Let it go for now.”

She dragged her gaze to his eyes, saw concern but also warmth.

He ran his thumb over the corner of her mouth. “Let it go, because right now I want to kiss you.”

“Why?”

“I think we could use it.”

“A therapeutic kiss?”

“Exactly.” He raised her chin and leaned in.

“I need to warn you—”

“No, you don’t.”

“I might be falling in love.”

“Then be warned yourself. You’re not the only one.” He reached around and pulled the clip from her hair, and buried his fingers into the fall of it. He kissed her lips, her cheek, her temple.

She clung to him. “I’m an egg.”

“I won’t let you break.”

“I need more than anyone can give.”

“It’s true.”

“I’m afraid it’ll hurt too much.”

He cupped her face with his hands. “I’m not saying you won’t get disappointed. I know you will. And I’ll be at my wit’s end. But it could just be worth it.”

Not if it ended badly again. He’d called her high maintenance, but he was high voltage, and every sign said keep away. She sniffled. He snatched her a cocktail napkin from the nearest table, and she dried her face and blew her nose, not wanting to think how she looked now. “You’ll get tired of me disintegrating.”

“I intend to stop it.”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“I think it might.”

She huffed a laugh. “We never have agreed.”

“We did last night.”

“That was work.”

“That was pleasure.”

She slanted him a hard look. “You only want someone to spark your creativity.”

“That isn’t all you spark, or all I want.” His gaze intensified.

“Smith … I …”

He turned her away to face the river and encircled her in his arms. “It shouldn’t surprise you that I’m attracted, but don’t worry. I’ve learned restraint and I practice it. My return to faith has given me that much.”

She wanted to know what had caused the change, but felt vulnerable asking.

He pressed his cheek to the side of her head. “Relax, Tess.”

She leaned against him, wanting his strength and sureness, even though the closeness alarmed her. “I know you’ve had—”

“Please don’t bring up Danae.”

She looked up over her shoulder. “You were together two years. You must have loved her.”

He frowned. “I don’t want—”

“Do you still?”

“I’m not trying to fill her slot. This is wholly new, wholly unexpected. I just want you to believe I won’t act on what I feel in any way that harms you.”

Surprisingly, she did. She leaned her head back against his chest and closed her eyes. “I’ve never had a champion.”

He rubbed his face in her hair. “I’d like to try.”

“When the youths taken as tribute were forced into the labyrinth to be devoured by Minotaur, the hero Theseus went with them. He tied a ball of yarn, a clew, to an olive tree so he’d be able to lead them out after he had battled the monster to the death.”

Smith pressed his cheek to her head. “I won’t let you face this alone. We will battle it to the death. And I’ll bring you back again.”

Dr. Brenner had been wrong. Smith was not a stressor. He was the first hope she’d had in so long.

Though he left her at her room with a light kiss, when the tap came a few minutes later, she wondered whether he’d thrown restraint to the wind. Shaking, she opened the door—to Petra.

“I want to show you something.” Her silver sheath shimmered as she walked.

They rode the elevator to the keyed penthouse level. Tessa couldn’t help but stare as Petra crossed the room, illuminating the sumptuous space as she went. She used a remote to open the drapes over the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. The lights of the other casinos glittered like a jeweled shawl draped over the shoulders of the dark desert. Tessa joined her at the window, staring silently out.

“This is what I want.” Petra turned and swept her hand across the room. “No one else in this casino can even access this floor.”

Tessa nodded, unsure why Petra was telling her. “It’s spectacular.”

“One snap of my fingers and people jump to bring me French croquettes, Russian caviar.”

“Do you like caviar?”

The corners of Petra’s mouth pulled. “I don’t have to. I can have anything I want.”

“And it’s worth it?”

“Yes.” She laid her elegant fingers against her throat. “Don’t mess this up for me. Okay?”

Tessa frowned. “How?”

“By challenging Rumer.”

Tessa folded her arms. “I didn’t challenge him.”

“You would have. I saw it in your face. If Smith hadn’t taken you away.”

“I don’t like how he treats you.”

“He treats me like a queen.”

“A puppet queen.”

“Is there any other kind?” Her eyes glittered. “I know what I have.”

Tessa swallowed her arguments. She couldn’t help it if Petra wouldn’t see the monster with her eyes wide open.

He crept up to the trailer. No cars. No lights. He heard nothing inside. The gate was gone. Were they? Was she? His fingers itched as he reached out and pressed his palm to the trailer door. He tried the knob, but it was locked. He turned, scanned it in the darkness, and paused at the air-conditioner in the window.

Slowly, softly, he crept. He reached, pulled himself up against the siding, and nudged the window up. A giggle filled his throat. He pushed it another inch and another. It squeaked the rest of the way up and bumped at the top. He took hold of the machine and eased it inward, using its weight to pull him up as he climbed with his feet. Dangling by his waist on the windowsill, he set it down and scrambled the rest of the way inside.

Blood rushed to his head as he straightened. He’d invaded their place the way they’d invaded his. The silver light of moon and stars drifted in and rested on desks and tables. A green light winked on a computer at one desk. He had experimented with one they’d left on in the library, but it hurt his eyes, and anyway, he didn’t like it as much as the books that talked about it. He liked manuals, manuals that told how things worked, even things he didn’t have, like cell phones and TVs and computers.

He turned to the next desk. It held drawings. He crept close, examining the lines with his fingers. He lowered his face and sniffed the paper. The drawings were hers.

He left that room and moved to the one at the end with beds and a bathroom. He used the bathroom as he always did when presented the chance. He pocketed a tube of toothpaste and moved back through the bedroom, through the desks to the kitchen. He opened one cabinet after another. The only flip can was sardines. He tucked that and a package of crackers into his jacket.

The refrigerator light speared his eyes before he could unscrew it, then darkness reigned again. He drank from the carton of milk, felt an apple in one drawer and slipped it into a pocket. Normally he’d stop, but he didn’t care if they knew he’d been there. He took a package of thin meat and devoured it, resealed the package and put it in with the apple.

Then he went back to her drawings. The intricate trees and leaves and flowers delighted him. The circle drawings with all the winding lines shot him with excitement. He slipped them carefully inside his jacket against his side and chest. Then he saw the book, a horticulture manual.

A shiver crawled up his spine. He ached to look inside, but wouldn’t. Not yet. He went to the window, replaced the air-conditioner, and closed the window against it. He took the book, opened the door, pushed the lock, and closed the door behind him.

CHAPTER

18

Smith did not include Tessa the next morning when he went down to meet with Gaston. He hoped she had slept well after he’d seen her to her room, but it wouldn’t surprise him if she’d taken everything he’d said and reworked it into something else. Before he could deal with that, there was Rumer Gaston.

The man breakfasted alone, and Smith approached the table, wondering if their conflict last night was past, or whether it had passed over like the angel of death and he would now realize his firstborn had died. Gaston looked up, giving him no hint of smile. “Can’t spare the jet this morning. I’m waiting on some calls and”— he waved a hand—“things have come up.”

“All right.” Smith nodded. “I’ll make other arrangements.”

“No, no. Make yourselves at home. Enjoy the amenities.” His eyes turned sly. “If you haven’t already.” He laughed low in his throat. “Where is your little specialist? I’d like to give her a private tour.”

Smith held his anger in check. “Sorry. She’s not available.”

Gaston laughed more than his little joke deserved.

“Oh, you Brits need to lighten up. Told your father the same thing.”

“I’m sure he appreciated the advice.”

Gaston appraised him. “I like you. You know why? You surprise me. You look so innocuous, then show some vigor after all.”

Smith didn’t know how to answer that.

Gaston raised his cup and sipped his coffee. “I’ll let you know when you can leave. In the meantime, make the best of things. As my guests.”

Smith didn’t argue. If Gaston really had a conflict, they’d need to be patient until he worked it out. If this was a power game, he’d only feed into it by protesting. “Will you contact me when the jet is available?”

“Sure, sure. Just let people know you’re here courtesy of Rumer Gaston.” The smile turned ugly. “And try not to be so stiff. People come from all over to enjoy what I offer. People more talented and appreciative than you.”

Smith’s jaw clenched. “Right.”

Gaston’s eyes narrowed. “You may go.”

It finally came clear that he hadn’t been hired for his design. He’d been acquired as a puppet. Gaston’s demanding his on-site presence, his daily reports, all fed the megalomania. Tessa had not exaggerated. “Right, then. I’ll wait to hear.” He turned, seething, as much from the insult as the thought of relating the delay to Tessa.

She opened her room door at his tap. “We’re ready to go?”

“Uh, no. May I?” He’d rather discuss it behind her closed door than anywhere Gaston’s closed-circuit cameras might capture her reaction.

She let him in. “What’s the matter?”

“There’s a delay with the jet.”

“Something mechanical?”

“Uncertain availability. Would you like to get some breakfast? We’re Mr. Gaston’s guests.”

She pulled her purse onto her shoulder. “I don’t want anything from him, but I wouldn’t mind a walk along the river, and maybe a croissant or something.”

“Sounds lovely.” And getting her out of the casino was probably prudent. He checked to make sure his ringer was on, but even when they had traveled a length of the river, finished rolls and tea, and returned to the casino, Gaston had not called. Tessa grew increasingly agitated.

When they returned to her room, she stalked to the window. “He’s playing with us.”

“Thank you, dear. I’ve gathered as much.”

“He’s an oaf.”

“A total prat.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Wait, I suppose. Fancy rummy?”

She punched his shoulder. “I want to go back.”

“Does that mean you’ve decided to continue?”

She opened her mouth, but his phone rang. He answered. “Yes, Mr. Gaston. We’ll be right down.” He pocketed the phone. “I know you’re a professional, Tessa—”

“But?”

“But I feel I must beg you not to antagonize him further.”

“No problem.” She planted her hands on her hips. “I’ll wait up here.”

“I very much wish you could. But he’s summoned us both.” He reached for her hand. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to play it more intimately between us.”

“Why?”

“For your protection.”

“From …”

“Innuendo, coarse comments, or worse.”

She narrowed her eyes. “He wouldn’t dare.”

“Trust me, he would. He thrives on discomfort. He has us— me—in a pinch. If we’re a couple, it may inhibit his game.”

She scowled. “I hate this.”

“It’s not such a terrible thought, is it? Being a couple?”

“That’s not what I meant. People shouldn’t manipulate through fear and … and …”

“They shouldn’t, but some do. I’m sorry.”

“For once, it’s not your fault.” She drew back her shoulders and flung open the door. “Let’s get this over with.”