Dark Obsession (16 page)

They were completely alone.

Fear erupted inside her as she gazed up at his rigid profile. There was something about him tonight that seemed different. He appeared even darker, more dangerous. More one with the night.

“You think a policeman can’t become a coldblooded killer? Who knows what may have driven him over the edge?”

Slade grabbed her arms and pulled her close. “Why did you come here, for God’s sake? Why are you dressed like that?” The anger in his voice sent shivers of alarm down Erin’s back. With one quick movement, he ripped off her dark glasses and flung them in the gutter.

“I told you before, I dress like this because people think I’m Megan.”

“Including you?” His hands tightened on her arms, and he gave her a little shake. “Can’t you see what you’re doing, Erin? Can’t you see what’s happening to you? You’re becoming obsessed with her. You’re
becoming
her. That’s why you came here tonight, looking like…”

“Like what?” Erin challenged.

“Like someone you’re not.”

She tossed back her hair. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me. I came here because I had to.”

“Why?”

“Because I had to see for myself why Megan was so drawn to this place.”

“That’s the only reason?” he challenged. The dark, liquid tones of his voice flowed over her, reminding her how very little she knew about him.

“As long as we’re asking questions,” she said, “I’ve got one for you. Why haven’t you been honest with me? Why didn’t you tell me the truth about Megan?”

His hands dropped away from her. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You know exactly what I mean. You knew her,” she said, her voice shaking with emotion. “You knew my sister. You talked to her inside that club on at least one occasion. I have a witness, so don’t bother denying it.”

“I wasn’t going to,” he said quietly. “You’re right. I did see Megan there. I talked to her the night she died.”

Erin’s hand flew to her mouth. Without thinking, she started backing away from him. Just as he reached out to stop her, she said, “Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare touch me. I’ll scream.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he lashed out bitterly. “I would never hurt you.”

“Did you hurt Megan? Did you kill her?”

He shook his head. “No.” His voice sounded oddly hurt. Erin’s anger faltered for a moment as she watched him.

“Why should I believe you?” she whispered. “How can I believe anything you say to me anymore?
You lied to me, Nick. All this time I’ve tried to learn to trust you, to believe in you, and now I find out that you knew Megan, and you deliberately didn’t tell me. Why? If you didn’t have anything to hide, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you’d look at me the way you’re looking at me right now.”

Never had Erin seen such raw emotion on anyone’s face before. It made her tremble to think of what his eyes would reveal. “What else are you trying to hide?” she asked. She reached for his dark glasses, but Slade grabbed her wrist, held her captive while they gazed at each other in anger.

Then slowly the anger began to fade. Erin’s heart sped up, and she saw the quickening of his breath, the slight softening of his mouth. Their lips were only inches apart, and Erin could smell the evocative fragrance of his musky cologne mingling with the scent of leather and the darker, headier night scents that seemed so much a part of him.

Her voice was only a trembling whisper when she said, “Please. I want to see your eyes.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said bitterly.

His head lowered, moving closer, and Erin trembled with fear and anticipation, dread and excitement. She stared at his shuttered eyes, stared at the man who seemed to be the very quintessence of all her nightmares.

Erin had never reacted this way before. The anonymity of the club had emboldened her earlier, but now she felt exposed, vulnerable, torn between her deepest desires and her darkest fears.

“Why did you have to come here?” he demanded raggedly. He lifted his hand, and his fingers combed roughly through her hair. “Why did you have to dress like this? As if you were dressing for
him.
”

“I dressed for you,” she whispered. “I came here to find you. I had to see you. I had to know if…” His hand slid down her arm, trailing fire, and Erin took a deep, quick breath. “Nick?”

“I would never hurt you, Erin.”

He wouldn’t, Erin realized with an assurance she didn’t quite understand. Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, she knew with instincts she’d never used before, just exactly what it was that Nick Slade wanted from her. And what shocked her even more was the fact that she wanted the same thing from him. She wanted him in a way she couldn’t begin to understand.

She lifted her lips in silent invitation. In the instant before his mouth crushed hers, Erin heard him groan, a low, deep, growling sound that reminded her of a wounded animal. Then she thought no more as his mouth moved against hers. Without thinking, Erin parted her lips, welcoming him inside. She felt his hesitation for one split second, then suddenly he was
in, his tongue exploring, ravaging, conquering her mouth in masterful possession.

Erin’s legs trembled, and she clung to him for support. He trapped her body to his, letting her know just how much he did want her. He was lean and hard and tough, and he made her feel utterly feminine. Utterly helpless, and deeply aroused. Erin heard another groan, a softer, more desperate sound this time, and realized that it was coming from her own lips.

The sound seemed to excite Slade even more. He lifted her as easily as if she were a doll and turned her so that she was backed against his car. He pressed against her, moving his hips so provocatively against hers that Erin thought she would die from the feel of it.

“I need you,” he said in a deep, desperate voice. “I need to
feel—
”

The urgency in his tone tore at any control Erin might have been struggling with. His lips were forceful and demanding, yes, but there was something else behind his relentless passion. Other emotions that seemed even more desperate, even more dangerous. The longing and the loneliness she sensed deep within him were more powerful, more threatening than the sexual attraction roaring through her like a steam engine.

“Nick…” she whispered, tingling excitement racing through her. She tunneled her fingers in his short hair, trailed the back of her hand down his face. One
finger curled around his dark glasses. “Please,” she begged softly, “let me.”

He stiffened, pulling away from her so abruptly that Erin might have fallen if not for the car behind her. He took several steps back from her, distancing himself as quickly as he could, and disappointment overwhelmed her.

“That was a mistake,” he said, gazing down the alleyway. Erin thought she had never seen an expression so bleak, so defeated. “There’s no excuse. Not after—” He broke off in self-loathing, lifting his hands to gaze at them in disgust.

How could she have been that stupid? Erin wondered. And irresponsible. She’d practically thrown herself at him, and he…well, he’d made his intentions perfectly clear. He didn’t want her. At first maybe, but not now.

Erin turned away, gazing into the night. She felt cold, lonely, and she wanted nothing more than to go home, to shut herself off from the darkness closing in on her once again. How had she ever thought the night exciting and beautiful? It was cruel and frightening and much, much too deceitful.

“I should be going,” she murmured, shoving her hands into the pockets of her coat.

He glanced at her then. “I’ll take you home.”

“I came in a cab, I can leave in a cab,” she snapped.

His mouth thinned as he stared down at her.
“Look, I think there’s something we need to talk about.” He looked tired, she thought, her heart going out to him in spite of herself. How could she still care about him? she asked herself in despair. After everything she’d learned about him, why did she still want him with an almost unbearable longing? “Get in the car, Erin.” He opened the car door and in defeat she slipped inside.

How very much she wanted to see his eyes at that moment, to gaze into the very depths of his soul and see…What? What would she see in Nicholas Slade’s soul? Darkness, she thought. Darkness and despair and intense loneliness.

A mirror of her own soul, perhaps. An echo of her own bleak emotions that made her want to reach out to him, in spite of the darkness, in spite of her fears. Or maybe even because of them.

He started the engine and they roared through the dark streets toward home. For several minutes they rode in silence, then his voice broke into the stillness like a quiet explosion. “Damn it, Erin, why didn’t you tell me you were going there?”

“Maybe I didn’t tell you for the same reason you didn’t tell me about Megan,” she defended. “Maybe we both should be a little more honest with one another from now on.”

“What is it you’re asking?”

“Were you and Megan—”

His expression hardened and stopped her. “There
was nothing between us. I barely knew her. I’d seen her at that club a few times, and I’d warned her away from the place, just as I did the others.”

“You mean…the other victims?”

“Yes.”

Erin felt as if someone had just punched her very hard in the stomach. The breath left her lungs in a painful swoosh. “You mean…my God…are you telling me you knew them all? All the dead women?”

He began to speak, his tone expressionless. “A lot of young women go into that club looking for…God knows what. They have no idea the trouble they can get into. So I warn them to stay away.”

“What kind of trouble?” Erin asked.

He turned his head and stared at her. “Your worst nightmare kind of trouble.”

Slade cursed under his breath when he saw her violet eyes widen in terror and the shadow of suspicion cloud them. She didn’t believe him, didn’t trust him, and who could blame her? He hadn’t been honest with her about anything. At that moment, in spite of Delaney’s warning to the contrary, Slade had the almost overpowering urge to tell her everything. To tell her how Simone had died and how Megan had died. To tell her that all the deaths had been his fault in one way or another.

He also had the almost overwhelming need to tell her who and what he was, and to let her fear drive her away from him and make her run for safety.

But Slade knew he wouldn’t do it. Couldn’t do it. Because his desire to keep her in his life was now the greatest compulsion of all.

He saw her take a deep breath, then their gazes met briefly before she looked away again. She gazed out the window. “You accused me of becoming obsessed with Megan’s life, and maybe I have. But do you know why, Nick? Do you know why I feel I have to do this one last thing for her? Because I abandoned her. Just like our mother did. I left her here all alone because I couldn’t face the nightmares anymore. She begged me not to go, not to leave her, but I did. I left her and I never came back.”

“Is that when you moved to L.A.?”

“It was right after I graduated from NYU. I wanted a new start somewhere without the memories. I wanted to put the past behind me, but what I found out was that it didn’t matter where I went or how hard I tried to forget. The nightmares were always there. The monsters of my past followed me everywhere. No matter what I did, no matter how many times I destroyed them in my books, they kept coming back. Do you know what it’s like to always live in the shadow of your past, Nick?”

Her words cut through the ice he’d built around his resolve.
“Do you know what it’s like to always live in the shadow of your past?”
He gazed at his scarred hands gripping the steering wheel, and for a moment all he could see were the raging flames, that inferno
roaring through decaying wood and rotting fabric to claim a life he had once loved more than his own. He didn’t need the marks on his hands to remind him of his torment. The scars inside his soul were even deeper, uglier, still raw after all these years.

He pulled the car to the curb in front of Erin’s apartment and shut off the engine. He sat staring out the windshield, still seeing the wall of fire that had separated him from Simone, still hearing her screams echo somewhere inside him. He hadn’t been able to reach her through the blaze. He hadn’t been able to save her, and because of that, the guilt would never go away.

He’d accused Erin of being obsessed, but so was he.

Beside him, Erin spoke softly, her gentle voice a balm to his wounds. “There are so many other unanswered questions in my life. I’ll never know what happened to my mother, why she left us, or why she never came back. I think that’s the reason I’ve never been able to put the past to rest. Why I still have nightmares about my childhood. Because I don’t understand why it had to happen.”

“And you think if you find out what happened to Megan, it’ll make her death easier to accept?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “It has to.”

“But what if you’re wrong? What if you find you can’t live with the truth?”

“What could be worse than not knowing?”

“A lot of things,” he said grimly. “A lot of things could be worse.”

She shrugged. “Maybe. But at least I won’t have to wonder anymore.”

Slade saw her look up toward the apartment again. He saw her shudder. And he wanted suddenly to pull her into his arms and never let her go. Was it her loneliness, the despair in those violet blue eyes that drew him as no one ever had before? Not even Simone, who had haunted his dreams for years, had made him feel this way. But it was Erin who haunted him now. Erin he wanted now. Erin he needed with an intensity that took his breath away. Erin, whose innocence soothed the savageness of his black soul.

He wanted to touch her again. Wanted to glide his fingers through the radiance of her dark hair, to whisper kisses along her smooth white neck. He wanted to draw her into his arms, cling to her until the fiery images inside his mind were smothered, condemned to nothing more than cold, lifeless ashes.

But he didn’t touch her. Didn’t dare. Because if he touched her now, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to let her go.