Experimenting With Ed (6 page)

Shock after shock had rendered Claire numb and she was surprised to find herself mildly curious. “How’d you know that was there?” she asked, stepping closer as Ed proceeded to hogtie the other man with the tape.

“There’s always duct tape in a van,” Ed answered matter-of-factly, reaching into the other man’s coat pocket and pulling out his cell phone before picking up the arsonist by his bound wrists and ankles and tossing him into the back of his van. Slamming the door on the man’s protests, Ed punched in three numbers, waited several seconds and then clipped out, “The man who set fire to the Carrendine Apartments is in the back of his van on Walnut Street, just east of Barrel Park.”

He wiped the phone off on his shirt and let it fall to the ground. The police siren was growing louder and Claire could see the flashing lights, still several blocks away but approaching fast. Ed grabbed her hand, towing her to the motorcycle and tossing her onto it. She straddled it automatically, her dress pulling up around her thighs as he mounted in front of her.

As the bike peeled away, Claire was thrown backward and she grabbed for Ed’s waist. Pressing her cheek against his bare back, she wrapped her arms around his chest. The heat radiating off him burned her skin. She clutched him tightly, hungry for his warmth, especially as the early dawn air tore at her exposed legs. As the numbness began to wear off, deep shudders racked her body, vibrating through her and making her teeth chatter uncontrollably.

The shivers had still not abated when Ed slowed the bike, turning it into a narrow alley and easing the motorcycle to the door of a detached garage. He swung off the bike, supporting it with one hand while punching a code in the keypad by the door with the other. The garage door opened quietly. As soon as the door was high enough, Ed rolled the bike into the dark, empty space.

Even after the motorcycle was parked and turned off, Claire sat where she was, knowing it was useless to stand up—she would just fall down anyway. Ed seemed to understand this as he wordlessly picked her up and carried her out of the garage through a side door, across the dimly lit yard to the back porch of the house.

The effortless way he shifted and held her in one arm while unlocking the multiple deadbolts on the door reminded Claire of the way he had wrenched the van door off its hinges.

“Put me down,” she ordered.

Ed ignored her, shouldering his way through the door and into his kitchen, switching her to one arm again as he deactivated the security system.

Panicked now, Claire twisted in his hold and shoved at his shoulders. “I said, put me
down
.” It was like pushing against a marble statue—he didn’t even flinch at her struggles.

“No,” he told her evenly. “Your feet are cut.”

She froze. “How do you know that?” Her voice had a shrill edge. “And how did you smell smoke when there wasn’t a fire? And hear Gordon at the office when he wasn’t even in the building? And how did you rip off the van door?”

Instead of answering, Ed carefully set her on the kitchen counter and reached over her head. She flinched as his arm came up and he paused, his face blanking of all expression, before pulling a white box out of the cupboard. Claire recognized it as a first-aid kit and flushed, embarrassment adding to her anger and confusion.

“How can you do these things?” she demanded. “How?”

He shrugged, focused on the bottom of her foot. “I work out.”

“No,” she insisted, shaking her head, pressing back the hysteria that threatened to overtake her. “I saw you tear that door off. It wasn’t normal.
You’re
not normal.”

That brought his head up. “‘Course I am. It was just adrenaline,” he said, his voice gruff.

Claire just shook her head, exhaustion and fear and anger swamping her and sucking away her energy. “How strong you are, how sharp your senses are—it’s like you’re not even human.”

He dropped her foot and took a step backward, looking as if she had kicked him in the gut. “I’m human.”

“Then how can you do those things?” Claire asked plaintively, almost crying, she was so tired and confused. Her feet were throbbing now and her legs and arms stung as the warmth of Ed’s house thawed her numbness.

Ed’s jaw clenched, his mouth held tight as he stared over her shoulder into nothingness. The strangeness of the situation, the craziness of the night, rushed over her and she began to shiver, despite the burn of her exposed skin.

“I should go,” she mumbled, pushing off the counter.

He stepped forward, catching her before her feet could touch the floor. “You can’t.”

Fear instantly caught her and she stiffened as she stared at him. “I
can
,” she protested, hating how her voice wavered. “I’m going home.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she remembered that her home was most likely currently on fire. Plus, since her face had been buried against his back for the whole trip to his house, Claire had no idea where she was. She realized with building panic she was completely dependent on Ed to get her home. She didn’t even know what his address was.

“Don’t be scared,” he told her, and his harsh command only made it worse. At her flinch, he shook his head. “I meant you can’t walk. I’ll take you to a hotel. Just let me take care of your feet first.”

Her racing heartbeat slowed as the logic of his words penetrated and she eased back onto the counter. “Thank you,” she said quietly, and he gave a short nod, his jaw muscles tight as he cleaned the blood from her feet.

There was a thick silence in the kitchen as he worked and Claire chewed her lip. Now that the flash of panic had eased, she felt silly and a little guilty for how she’d acted. The guy had saved her life
twice
now and he was, at this very moment, wiping blood off her feet. How could she be scared of him?

“I’m sorry,” she said, reaching to touch his bent head.

He looked up, meeting her eyes for a long moment. Finally, he nodded and shifted his gaze as he picked tweezers out of the first-aid box. He crouched and, holding her foot still with one hand, yanked something out of her heel.

The sharp pain made her gasp and easy tears filled her eyes, blurring Ed and the object caught in the tweezers. She blinked rapidly, determined not to be a baby and cry over such a small hurt.

“Okay?” He stood, watching her face closely.

“No,” she told him, her voice wavering. “I lost my job, my boss tried to kill me and my new boyfriend is… I don’t know
what
my new boyfriend is!” She ended with a wail, giving up the effort to be brave and hold back the tears.

He stared at her, a touch of panic in his eyes. Putting the tweezers and whatever had been embedded in her foot on the counter, he reached a hand toward her but hesitated before his fingers touched her face.

All her doubts and fears about what he could do—what he
was
—were shoved aside by her exhaustion and pain and overriding misery. Throwing her arms around his neck, she buried her face in his hard shoulder and sobbed. Her feet hurt, she was tired and she just wanted to cling to Ed and cry, so she did.

“Mouse.” He patted her back awkwardly. “It’s okay. Don’t cry.”

That just made her wail louder. “Bu-but I wa-want to cry!”

“Okay,” he said, definitely sounding panicky now. If Claire hadn’t been bawling, she would’ve laughed. “Okay, you can cry.” He patted her again.

Gradually, her tears eased off and only the leftover hiccupping sobs remained. She kept her face against his shoulder.

“I need to put antiseptic on your feet,” Ed said a little tentatively. Claire just shook her head against him, not wanting him to see her face. After that kind of crying, she knew she’d be puffy and red-eyed and pathetic looking.

He cleared his throat. “I don’t want the cuts to get infected.”

Claire sighed. “Fine.” Pulling back, she dropped her arms from around his neck and stared at her bare knees. He crouched again and dabbed something on the soles of her feet that stung like hell. She stared fiercely at where the hem of her dress lay against her thighs, determined not to even flinch at the pain. She’d already acted like enough of a crybaby for one night.

Ed finished and quickly cleaned up, tucking the first-aid kit back in the cupboard. Standing in front of her, close but not touching, he looked at her, his jaw muscle working again.

“Did you want to go to a hotel now?” he asked.

She shook her head. At the offer, the final dregs of her fear faded. Besides, the last thing she wanted was to get back on that motorcycle right now. “Can I…?” Her voice cracked. “Can I stay here?” When he didn’t answer right away, she hurried to continue. “Just ‘til morning, I mean. Then I’ll get out of your hair. I could sleep on the couch—”

He kissed her. Cupping her face in both hands, he let his lips cling to hers. When he pulled back she gave him a shaky smile.

“Best way to shut me up?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “No. I like hearing you talk. Just…wanted to kiss you.” His stroked his thumbs across her cheeks.

The tears were rising again. Claire fought them back. “Can I sleep with you?” She flushed. Her question sounded so pathetically needy.

Ed didn’t seem to mind but lifted her off the counter and carried her out the kitchen, flicking off the light as he went. He brought her through the house and up the stairs to a bedroom dimly illuminated by the city lights.

As he sat her on the bed, she looked up at him. “I hate to ask for one more thing, but can I borrow a t-shirt to sleep in?”

“‘Course.” He pulled a shirt from one of the drawers in the dresser and brought it over to her. “Socks too. To protect your feet.”

This’ll be a sexy look.
“Thanks,” she told him and pulled on the socks. “Where’s your bathroom?” As she slid toward the edge of the bed, Ed moved as if to pick her up again.

Claire shook her head. “Thanks, caveman, but I can make it on my own. Bathroom?”

He frowned at her but she just waited, giving him her own lifted-eyebrow look. Finally, he jerked his head toward the hallway. “First door on the right.”

“Thanks.” As she stood up, he hovered, as if preparing to catch her if she fell over. Although it hurt to stand, Claire kept her face expressionless, worried he’d snatch her off her feet if she showed any sign of pain.

Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t completely hide her limp as she walked toward the door.

“Let me—” he started to say but she gave him a look over her shoulder.

“No. I’m fine.”

“But—”

“Zip it.” She pointed a warning finger at him.

His mouth twitched. “Zip it?”

“Exactly.” Claire turned down the hall. Away from Ed’s watchful eye, she let her face contort into the pained grimace she’d been holding back since she first stood up. She also quit trying to hide her limp. Shuffling into the bathroom, Claire swung the door shut and sat down on the closed toilet seat with a relieved exhale.

“Okay?” Ed called through the door and she rolled her eyes.

“Fine!” she yelled back.

He was quiet but she knew he was out there, waiting. With a sigh, she forced her tired body to stand up. She probably only had a few minutes before he started knocking on the door.

* * * * *

When she yanked open the door a short time later, Claire expected to find Ed lurking outside. To her surprise, the hall was empty. She made her slow, painful way back to the bedroom.

Ed was leaning next to the window, staring out. He looked over when she came in but didn’t move.

“Sorry I’m being so cranky,” she told him, easing onto the bed, utterly relieved to sit. “Thanks for the t-shirt.” She smoothed the cotton fabric over her knees. The shirt hung on her, swamping her form. “It’s a little small but…” Claire gave him a tentative smile.

Although he didn’t smile back, he crossed the room to stand in front of her. “I don’t mean to be so…” Letting the sentence trail off as his gaze shifted away, he shrugged.

“Hover-y?” she filled in, pulling back the covers and climbing beneath them.

“I guess.” He frowned. “Is that even a word?”