Courting Darkness (26 page)

“Tracy!” she snapped in offense.

What the fuck ever…
“—Tracy. You gotta go.”

Confusion replaced her affronted scowl as he pried her hand loose from his junk.

“But…you said you wanted me. That you wanted me from the first moment you saw me. You said you never thought it was possible to feel this way again, and that you were falling in love with me.”

Was this crazy bitch for serious? Haden froze, eyes shooting up to lock on the hazel tear-filled pools promising him this wasn’t going to end well. Did he really say those things? Thinking back, which hurt like hell to do, he realized, Oh frick…, he had, hadn’t he? Only, this wasn’t the female who’d been on his mind when that tequila had turned into truth serum.

“Tammy—”

“Tracy!”

“Whatever. Look, I don’t even know you.” Scooting away, he planted his palm against the woman’s chest to keep her from following him. “Trust me. You don’t want me to want you. It might not seem like it right now, but you’ve dodged a bullet here, sweetheart.”

The second his toes hit the carpet, Haden was on his feet, backing toward his clothes scattered on the floor. Bed sheet fisted in hand, he held it protectively over the object of this crazy woman’s desire, each step pulling the shared sheet further down her naked body. The female made no move to cover herself with the blanket bunched up behind her.

His ankle still hurt like hell, protesting his hasty retreat, but it was healed enough to support the brunt of his weight as he bent to retrieve the woman’s dress. Scooping up the mound of black rayon, he tossed it at her. She didn’t even attempt to catch the fabric as it hit her in the chest, falling to a pile on her lap.

Snatching his jeans, he let the sheet go to shove his good leg into the pant hole. The quick bending/standing action sent a rush of blood surging to his already throbbing head, then quickly into his feet. His vision began to blur. The room spun as his equilibrium tilted, and what should have taken a second to accomplish, had him stumbling in a one-legged hop to get his other foot inside the damn jeans. All the while, he rushed to explain, “Listen, you seem like a nice enough girl—”

Success! Thank fuck. He jerked his pants over his hips, fastened them, and turned back to the woman in the bed, who now looked at him with the denseness of someone who didn’t understand English. She’d yet to cover herself, which was, well…awkward.

“—so I’m going to give you a little piece of advice that may save your life.” He grabbed his Henley off the foot of the bed and pulled it over his head. Shoving his arms through the sleeves, he continued, “The next time you want to pick up a guy to go home with, choose another bar. That place isn’t what it seems to be. Now, you can do what you want with that, take it or leave it. I couldn’t care less.”

Boots…where the fuck were his boots? A quick glance around the room located one under a chair and one poking out from beneath the dresser. Collecting them and his socks, which had definitely seen better days, he sat his ass into the chair and began pulling them on. A flick of his eyes to the bed confirmed the woman still hadn’t moved, as if she were somehow frozen in shock.

“And now I’m going to tell you that it’s me, it’s not you, and all that other crap you need to hear me say, so that you can make your walk of shame out that door and go home.”

Fastening the laces of his boots, he no longer bothered to spare the female a glance. “I know what you’re thinking,” he grumbled, a cold edge sharpening his voice. “And yes, I am that big of an asshole.”

“Where are we going?” She was stalling, and at the same time hoping Liam would give her a hint as to how he planned to help get her memory back.

“To get you some coffee,” he answered blithely, placing a kiss on top of her head as he slid his arm out from beneath her.

That wasn’t what she meant, but then again, she suspected he knew that. Every part of her protested the idea of getting out of this bed. If she had her way, they would spend the day right here, talking and eating leftover pizza in between bouts of making love.

It was easy to pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist when she was in his arms. She’d never felt so safe…so loved or cherished. Try as she might, Olivia couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that the moment they opened this door, reality would come crashing in on them. She wasn’t ready to face the big bad world—she wasn’t ready to deal with Haden, or going home for that matter.

“Just a few more minutes,” she pleaded, pulling him back to the mattress as he made a move to sit up. She strapped an arm across his chest and a leg over both of his in a feeble attempt to restrain him. She’d seen the display of his strength—his power—and knew nothing or no one could keep him in this bed if he had a mind to leave it. That he let her restrain him so easily was proof positive she wasn’t the only one that didn’t want to leave. “I’m not ready yet.”

A chuckle rumbled softly in his chest, the beautiful melody making her smile. Reaching up, he took her face in his hands and planted a solid kiss against her pouting lips. “You said that thirty minutes ago,” he teased, “and look where it got us.”

She liked where it’d gotten her—very much—crying out his name as he masterfully drove her over the edge of yet another earth-shattering climax. Her body was deliciously sore. She’d never felt more alive and exhausted at the same time. She remembered reading in her journal that angels didn’t sleep, and after last night, she believed it.

Unfortunately, now that his mind was made up to move, there wasn’t anything she could do to stop him. He rolled away and out of her reach, despite her complaining groan. As he climbed out of bed, the shower turned on in the bathroom. She had to admit, the blasting hiss was an alluring temptation—but not enough to get her out from under the sheets currently blanketing her in Liam’s warm, spicy scent.

She arched her brow questioningly, and his grin made her pulse quicken. Staring up at him, she stretched out like a sated feline as she folded her hands behind her head and crossed her ankles defiantly. Making no move to get up, she lay there, boldly taking in the sight of him, and was struck with the realization that, without a doubt, she was beholding the epitome of male perfection.

“You’re gorgeous…” The thought slipped from her lips before she realized she’d even spoken.

His violet eyes darkened a shade as his own hungry gaze devoured her. Bracing a knee on the mattress, he leaned forward and scooped her up in his arms. He effortlessly lifted her, turned, and carried her toward the bathroom. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

The heat of his whisper teased her neck, sending a shiver of desire flooding her veins. When she suddenly went vertical and her bare feet touch the cold tile floor, she gasped for an entirely unpleasant reason. “You’re leaving me?” she asked, unable to mask her surprised disappointment. She’d been looking forward to a reenactment of that sultry dream Liam had so torturously described in vivid detail last night.

“I’m not leaving you. I’ll be right outside. But your body needs the rest and I don’t need the temptation.” He placed a chaste kiss against her cheek and playfully slapped her ass before retreating to the other room. The door closed and she couldn’t resist smiling when the lock
snicked
into place.

“Kind of a moot point, don’t ya think?” she called over the hiss of the shower’s spray.

“You’re not helping,” he shot back with mock gruffness. “Get in the shower.”

“See, I told you she was missing. How can you expect me to find someone the police can’t even locate? The bitch is probably dead in the Everglades by now. She’s been gone almost a week. It’s over.”
Take the hint and leave, asshole.

Gahn clicked the remote and the plasma screen went black. His arm yanked back as if the SOB were pitching in the World Series. Pat leaped out of the line of fire as his uninvited guest snarled an ear-burning curse and hurled the remote across the room. The small plastic rectangle hit the wall like a missile. Pieces of black plastic exploded like shrapnel, pelting the living room floor. For not the first time, Pat considered taking his chances with his loan shark and telling this demented throwback from hell to get the fuck out of his house. Not that he would—Gahn needed him. Pat was no rocket scientist, but even he could
Scooby-Doo
that much out of this cluster fu—

“She’s not dead.”

And what was up with this guy’s voice? Every time that asshole spoke, he expected the proclamation “Luke, I am your father,” to come flyin’ out of his mouth. The dude looked like
Emperor Palpatine
from
Revenge of the Sith
. He was creepy as fuck.

“How do you know she’s not dead?” Pat challenged.

“If she was that easy to kill, she’d be dead by now. Trust me. I’ve been trying for the last twenty-one years.”

Well, that was one hell of a lot of unhelpful right there. “So you expect me to accomplish something you couldn’t?”

“I expect you to find the woman and bring her to me. How many times do I have to explain it?”

“I can’t find a ghost, dude! She ain’t here!”

“Oh, ye of little faith—”

Chills crept up Pat’s spine as the airy rasp quoted Christ. He glanced up at his water-stained ceiling, cracked and yellowed with age, half excepting a bolt of lightning to strike the demon dead, and wishing to God that it would.

“—she’ll be back.”

Just great….in the meantime, Pat was stuck with the houseguest from hell—literally.

Chapter Twenty

“Are you really not going to tell me where you’re taking me?”

“I already did. I said I’m getting you coffee.”

“You’re avoiding the question by feigning ignorance,” Olivia complained as they pulled into the Starbucks drive-thru. Before she could press him further, he lowered the driver’s window to the voice on the intercom saying, “Welcome to Starbucks. How can I help you this morning?”

A blast of frigid air sucked all the heat from the rented SUV. Rouge snowflakes blew inside, landing on her lap and instantly disappearing. She wrapped her arms around her chest, trying to retain what little heat she could as a shiver wracked her body.

Liam spoke to the speaker. “Can I get a skinny vente, hazelnut, half-caf with whip.”

Seriously?
Was there anything he didn’t know about her?

“Certainly, sir. Will there be anything else?”

Without turning to see her freeze-baby impersonation, Liam reached for the dash and cranked the thermostat. The fan roared as heat blasted from the vents. “Coffee. Black. Largest you have.”

His intuitiveness was impressive, his thoughtfulness, touching. The temp hike certainly hadn’t been for his benefit. Liam seemed as unaffected by the cold temperatures as Haden was.

“That’ll be eight-eighty. Please pull ahead to the window.”

As he drove forward he glanced in her direction. “What?”

Was she staring? Of course she was… “You ordered for me. You knew exactly what I wanted.”

He shrugged. “You always get the same thing.”

It was true. She’d always been a creature of habit—utterly predictable—and totally boring. “You didn’t ask me if I wanted anything to eat.”

Cash in hand, he glanced up as he peeled a ten from the wad of green and cocked his brow as if she were trying to trick him. “You don’t eat breakfast.”

“Maybe I do now. Tate made me breakfast all the time.” The moment that snarky remark left her mouth, she wanted to suck it back in. Why did she just say that? What in the hell was wrong with her? Was she trying to make him jealous? She didn’t even want breakfast, for crissake.

Before she could redact her thoughtless comment with an “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that,” Liam’s jaw locked tight and a little muscle in his cheek gave an irritated twitch. His response was coolly measured. “I’m glad to hear he was good to you, Olivia.” What was not cold however, were the jade flecks that surfaced in his eyes like fiery emeralds. “Would you like something to eat?” he asked, his voice frightfully controlled.