Jamie (7 page)

“I never met her,” Jamie mused aloud. “So I wouldn't recognize her. But I know Kline was proud of her. I know he shared things with her.” His hands fisted. “I know she would have been about your age.”

“I'm no relationship to any of them, Jamie, I swear. And I didn't work directly for any of the professors.” Her chest rose and fell in desperation. “But ... I ...”

Jamie felt more alone by the moment. “You what? ”

Trembling, Faith whispered, “I worked for ... Delayna. ”

Just hearing the name caused Jamie to jerk hard, all his muscles contracting in reaction. His breath left him in one frantic whoosh.

Of all the things Faith might have said, of all the possible betrayals, he hadn't expected that. Unwanted memories of Delayna flooded into his system. How she'd pretended to care for him, making love to him, toying with him—and allowing Kline, her lover, to tape every second of it so they could examine him like a fucking mouse in mating season.

All in the name of understanding the anomalous mental phenomena of his ability—and how personal feelings of affection, love, and finally rejection might affect that ability.

They'd wanted to know the way his brain worked, why he made a better remote viewer than all the others. And they'd wanted to see how he'd do under stress, if he could adequately sift emotion from truth.

On that, he'd failed. Oh, yeah, he'd failed miserably. His pathetic need for Delayna had left him as helpless as an abandoned newborn. She'd plotted against him, yet he'd been deaf, dumb, and blind to her deception. He hadn't wanted to believe her capable of such callous manipulation.

Just as he didn't want to believe it of Faith.

Unable to keep the memories at bay, Jamie sucked air into his lungs. They'd made him an unwilling participant, a man forced through one repugnant experiment after another. He'd wanted to leave, but they wouldn't let him. Until his escape, he'd been as much a prisoner as any jailed convict.

And Delayna had watched it all in controlled scientific curiosity—as had Faith.

Crushing pain exploded in Jamie's head, in his heart. He shoved away from Faith, heaving in his rage.

“Get out.” He meant to shout, but the words came out a mere whisper.

“Wait!” Faith scrambled off the mattress after him.

Jamie ducked back from her outreached hand. If she touched him, he'd lose it, and he'd lose himself. At that moment, volatile fury ruled his mind. He couldn't be trusted.

Through his teeth, Jamie rasped, “Be smart, Faith.” His muscles bunched and flexed with the need to retaliate. “Get the fuck out of my cabin and don't come back.”

Full of persuasion and a hint of desperation, her voice gentled. “Jamie, please. Just let me explain—”

“
No
.” He struggled with himself, but it was no use. “You've said enough. Your association with Delayna tells me all I need to hear.”

“No, it doesn't—”

So bitter and cold his breath should have frosted, Jamie said, “I hate that bitch, and I hate anyone associated with her.”

As if he'd struck her, Faith flinched away. “Oh, Jamie,
no.
You don't mean that.”

“I mean it.”

His jaw damn near dropped. How dare she argue with a man in a killing rage? Was she too simple to realize the peril? Too blind to see his fury? And why the hell wouldn't she believe him, anyway? She looked stubborn and determined and ... devastated.

That knocked the wind out of him. What did Faith have to be devastated about? She was the intruder, the one hiding behind deception.

But it wasn't in Jamie's nature to hurt others. He was a man compelled to help, to make things right for anyone within his realm.

Jesus, he needed to be alone. He needed to collect his thoughts and bury the pain.

Snatching Faith's arm into a tight grip, Jamie dragged her to the ladder. “Get out. Now.”

Her chin shot up. “I won't. I
can't.”

Incredulous, Jamie stared at her. “You ...” He didn't know what to say. In his present mood, he scared himself.

But she didn't look afraid. Worried, yes, but not really fearful.

If only he could detect her thoughts.

She'd blindsided him, gigged him good, and he hated it that he hadn't seen it coming, had never suspected it. Why had his ability failed him when he needed it most?

And now she refused to leave?

Jamie couldn't take it in. Confusion left him floundering.

But one thing was for sure: Faith knew about the single time in his entire life that he'd fully trusted someone. He'd allowed Delayna to get close, to crawl into his heart. He'd loved her and thought she loved him. But Delayna had turned out to be a backstabbing bitch with ulterior motives no better than the so-called scientists who wanted to dissect his brain in the name of research.

And Faith had worked for her, with her. She knew what they'd done, how foolish he'd been, how pitiful and useless. She'd
seen
him.

He couldn't bear it.

“Fine,” Jamie said, too blown to fight her. “Then I'll go.” Jerking around, desperate to get away, Jamie stormed across the floor. He refused to call the churning anguish in his chest anything other than anger.

But he'd taken no more than three steps when Faith crashed into his back, causing him to stagger forward. “Jamie, please!”

“What the—” After he regained his balance, Jamie tried to shake her off. Arms and legs wrapped around him, Faith clung monkey-style, crying hard, crawling up his back. He felt like a clown in a circus, or an unwilling actor thrust into a play.

“You promised you wouldn't overreact,” she wailed.

Of all the ... The woman could define overreaction! Case in point, she had her legs tight around his waist, her face squeezed in close on top of his shoulder, while she hung from his neck.

Reaching back, Jamie gripped her upper arm in a hard fist and, twisting toward her, sent her away with a shove made brutal from fury and hurt and a dangerous need for distance. Faith fell to the floor, scrambled to her knees, and crawled right back at him. “Damn you, Jamie Creed,
you will let me explain.
”

Cleansing breath finally filled Jamie's lungs, rushing in too fast, making his head spin and his vision blur. No way in hell could he discuss this with Faith. He didn't discuss it with anyone. He didn't even think about it except in the occasional nightmare.

Jaw aching, Jamie loomed over her. “I said to get out.”

“And I refused.” Faith grabbed him again, this time around his knees. Her face pressed against his thighs, and with his legs hobbled, he nearly tripped.

Christ, he couldn't believe this, couldn't believe her audacity or his sudden weak-brained urge to grab her up close and beg her to tell him he'd misunderstood. But there was no misunderstanding. She was no different from Delayna, and he'd be a fool to spend another second with her.

Looking down at her, Jamie couldn't remain immune to the sexual supplication of her pose. Her face rested just below his crotch, her long, silky hair clinging to the denim of his pants, her arms holding him as if she'd never let him go.

Regardless of his justified fury, his body stirred, and he wished he'd fucked her before finding out the truth. If he had, maybe the truth wouldn't hurt so much. Maybe the consolation of physical relief, the knowledge that he'd used her as much as she wanted to use him, would temper the razor-sharp slice of betrayal.

Faith turned her face up to him, treating him to the full force of her entreaty.

It reminded him of Delayna, of how deceitful some women could be.

Regaining a tiny measure of control, Jamie squeezed her shoulders and pried her loose, lifting her up so that her feet dangled off the floor. “Do. Not. Touch me.”

Her full bottom lip quivered, and big tears filled her eyes. “I
have
to touch you,” she explained in a tormented whisper. “Don't you see? You're hurting, and I'm here to make you feel better.”

The words were, in part, true enough to cut deep. Sure, he hurt. Pain had become a part of his life: the pain of solitude, of want and need. But the crushing blow she'd delivered, made more so by her sincerity and the compassion in her expression, couldn't compare to the accustomed ache Jamie lived with day in and day out.

This pain could finish him off.

In an act of self-preservation, Jamie separated himself from her, literally lifting and tossing her onto the bed. Before she'd finished bouncing, he reached the ladder. He'd go outside. He'd vanish into the woods. God knew he excelled at vanishing.

He'd leave Faith no choice but to vacate his cabin, to get out of his head and out of his life.

Hell, maybe he'd go to Alyx and tell her that Faith ... No, Alyx would tear her up—and screw it, he didn't want Alyx's help.

He wanted no one's help.

He trusted no one.
He didn't.

Six rungs down, the ladder shook and Faith yelled to him. “Jamie Creed, don't you dare leave without me!”

He looked up—and wished like hell he hadn't.

God Almighty, Faith had both feet on the ladder rungs, scurrying down after him too fast, and she wore only a shirt.

No panties.

A rush of sexual hunger fused with resentment, and the result wasn't pretty. Jamie felt primitive, savage. He felt capable of things that no man should ever feel.

Frozen in place, Jamie stared up, half hearing her continued pleas and orders while an inferno of carnal imagery sparked and then combusted inside him. His palms began to sweat, jeopardizing his grip on the ladder.

And then the unthinkable happened.

In her haste, Faith's bare foot slipped off a rung. She cried out, floundering and grasping for the ladder, clunking down two more rungs while awkwardly trying to regain purchase.

Jamie leapt the final few feet to the floor just as she lost her hold and fell back with a shriek that made his ears ring. She twisted in midair, trying to land on her feet. Instinct brought his arms up, and he half caught her in a tangle of thrashing limbs and accelerated breathing. It wasn't a secure hold by any means.

Grunting, Jamie bore her weight as they both hit the wooden floor, fast and hard. Pain flashed through his hip, his shoulder. His head smacked the floor, sending stars to dance before his eyes.
Good God.

Sprawled out diagonally over him, Faith lay unmoving, one hand clenched on his shoulder, the other on his waist. Her face was practically in his armpit. He could feel her fast breaths, the pounding of her heart. Her legs straddling one of his.

For several moments, Jamie couldn't take it in. He queried his body, wondering if he'd broken anything, trying to get air back into his traumatized lungs.

Faith shifted—and moaned. He almost moaned too, because her naked sex pressed against his hip. He could feel the heat of her.

Jamie decided that he must be a glutton for punishment, given how swiftly his body reacted. How he could go from blind fury to arousal after a bone-jarring fall, he didn't know.

Pain evident in her voice, Faith whispered, “Jamie . . . my leg.”

Her fear brought him around. First sickness, then a bump on the head, and now a hurt leg? The woman was a walking catastrophe, and if he weren't careful, she'd take him down with her. Jamie stared at the ceiling, wondering what to do.

“Jamie?”

He closed his eyes. “Well, shit.”

Chapter Four

Careful not to jar Faith, Jamie lifted his head. His brains didn't spill out, so he assumed he'd be okay. Maybe.

The flannel shirt, which he now wanted to burn, bunched up around her waist, leaving her lush bottom completely bare. A long red welt traveled from her left hip down the length of her thigh to just below her knee. Already the flesh of her thigh looked discolored and swollen.

He couldn't freaking believe this. Being cursed with psychic ability was one thing. Being cursed with Faith was overkill.

Striving for a calm that remained just out of reach, Jamie asked, “How bad are you hurt?”

She said, “I ... I don't know. My leg ... I'm afraid to move it.”

Her thoughts were blessedly free, and Jamie registered her alarm, her very real pain. And her relief.

It was the relief that got to him and sparked his temper back into an inferno. If she hadn't injured herself, he'd give that upturned bottom a sound ...
No, don't go there.
His hand and her butt should never make contact, no matter how appealing the idea might be.

Jamie carefully inhaled and exhaled until he could speak without giving away his level of frustration and desperation. Injecting just the right amount of disdain, he pointed out, “There's no reason to get too happy with yourself, Faith. Injury or not, I can still carry you off the mountain.”

She said nothing to that.

“It'll be light out very soon. The rain is letting up some. I know these woods like the back of my hand. There are plenty of passable trails, plenty of ways—”

“Please don't make me leave, Jamie. Please.”

Jamie wasn't a man given to theatrics, not since that awful day when Delayna had turned his world upside down and revealed him for less than he'd always believed himself to be. Not since the day he'd almost torn the lab apart, acting more the animal than a civilized man.

He felt every bit as volatile now. He wanted to snarl. He wanted to punch a hole in the wall, and he wanted to stroke Faith's ass, to spread her legs and look at her again, kiss her, do a number of sensual, intimate things to her.

If he didn't get it together, he'd end up hyperventilating on all his deep breaths.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jamie counted to ten, then opened them again. “We can't stay like this.”
With you laying on top of me and turning me on and making me forget everything but my desire to fuck you.
“I'm going to move you.”

Filled with trepidation, Faith nodded. “Okay.”

Jamie slid one hand around her upper arm and curved the other over the top of her thigh, just beneath a soft, pale cheek. He gave in to one slow, easy caress, then got himself together again. “Easy now. ”

As gentle as he could be, Jamie rolled Faith to her back. Discomfort washed the color from her cheeks. Her shoulders rested on the floor perpendicular to him, but one of his legs was still under hers, which raised her pelvis like an offering.

Jamie stared at the sexy curve of her belly, the tight curls covering her mound, and wondered if any man anywhere had ever found himself in such an untenable position.

Then his gaze came back to her belly. Smooth, firm, and almost concave between her sharp hipbones. His brows came down, and more suspicions crowded in.

 

 

The hard, cold floor did not make a comfortable place for conversing. But Faith accepted the reprieve without complaint. She'd stay on a bed of nails if it'd keep Jamie from throwing her out.

Watching the conflicting emotions in his beautiful dark eyes, she said a prayer of thanks that, for whatever reason, her body appealed to him.

He stared at her belly so long, his face a mask, that Faith held her breath. Good grief, he unnerved her. If only she could know his thoughts as easily as he knew hers.

His hand hovered over her abdomen until, with slow precision, he tugged the hem of the flannel shirt down to cover her. Faith couldn't look away from his face, and she didn't care if he read her mind. None of that mattered now. Not with him so wounded.

Black eyes flashed at her, narrow and mean. But all he said was, “You're okay?”

“I think so.” But for good measure, she tacked on, “It probably isn't broken, but it hurts.”

Jamie gave his attention back to her legs. “You deserve it for coming down the ladder like that. You should have left when I told you to. You shouldn't have followed me, dogging my heels, giving me orders. You shouldn't have—”

“Cared?”

His jaw flexed. “Don't expect any sympathy from me. As soon as possible, you're leaving here.” The dark scowl and growled words contrasted with the careful way he touched her leg, prodding, checking for damage.

Faith hissed in pain.

Mouth going flat, Jamie demanded, “Can you wiggle your toes?”

She closed her eyes ... and wiggled.

“Good. How about flexing your knee?”

He helped, wrapping his long, hard fingers around her ankle and lifting her leg. Even as Faith managed it, pain sank in and she curled her fingers tight in resistance.

Jamie winced, lowered her leg, and pried her hand from his forearm. Her short nails left deep grooves in his skin, and shame struck her.

“Oh God, Jamie, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize—”

“Forget it.” He ignored her apology, refusing to look at her. “I don't think it's broken.”

“It hurts really bad.”

Jamie shrugged.

Determined to get through to him, Faith insisted, “No way can I walk on it.”

Palpable frustration rose off him. Even through his contained expression, Faith could see his blistering ire. She wouldn't be surprised if his beard caught on fire.

So much heat, she decided, was preferable to his icy distance any day.

“We need to get you off the damn floor. Can you stand?”

So he could toss her out? In a rush, Faith reached for him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on tight when he would have pushed her back. She'd break both her legs if it'd give her a chance to fulfill her purpose.

Jamie caught a fistful of her hair and pried her head back. The gentleness, apparently, was long gone.

“Own.!”

Fierceness shone from the depths of his obsidian eyes. “Did you do it on purpose, then?”

Blank-brained, Faith blinked at him. She wasn't afraid of Jamie, but she didn't like his antagonism at all. “What are you talking about?”

“Did you throw yourself off the ladder on purpose?”

Of all the harebrained ... That deserved a slap, and she landed one on his hard, sleek shoulder. Not that he seemed to notice. “Don't be such an ass.”

Surprise at her waspish tone replaced the animosity.

Nose to nose with him, Faith pointed out, “I could have broken my damn neck, you know.”

“From an eight-foot drop?”

“I had no way of knowing you'd catch me after you just threatened to throw me down the mountain.” Perturbed, she tossed her hair and glared at him. “For all I knew, you might have let me land on my head.”

“I probably should have.” Jamie's eyes narrowed again. “Who'd ever know, Faith? I could claim I never saw you.”

But Faith knew most of the anger had drained out of him and she now had to deal with weary cynicism. She didn't know which was worse. “You're not going to hurt me, Jamie, and we both know it.” She stroked his neck, the shoulder she'd just smacked. “You're a caregiver. A healer and a helper.”

“You must not have been around when I left the institute.”

“I was there.” She cupped her hand over his jaw, the feel of his beard warm and rough on her palm. “You tore the lab apart, and you almost tore Professor Kline apart. But you were justified.”

“I wanted to find the files they'd kept on me. I wanted them destroyed.”

Faith hugged herself close to him. “I had them.” She leaned back and gave him what reassurance she could. “But you don't have to worry. They're gone now.”

After a long, frustrated stare, Jamie pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something low.

“Jamie.” Faith pulled his hand down and held it between her own. She left herself mostly open to him. “I want to stay here. I
need
to stay here, as much for you as for me.”

For long, quiet moments, Jamie peered at her, until realization dawned. “You're afraid.”

“Very. But not just for me. For you, too.”

“Bullshit. You said no one was after me.”

“I know, but—”

Malicious satisfaction changed his expression. “Then there's no reason to fear for me, is there?”

“It's not that simple, Jamie.” Her head started to pound. “I told you that
certain
people aren't after you. The people you've always suspected—like Kline or Delayna. But something's wrong.”

“So someone sent
you
here to look out for me?” He glanced at her various bruises. “That's a joke.”

His disbelief brought a blush to her cheeks. All she could hope was that the details would remain sketchy for a while longer. “Yes. Sort of. But I wanted to come anyway.”

Faith risked another rejection and stroked her hand through his long hair. It was tangled and unruly but clean and soft. Cool in comparison to the heat of his skin.

“Ever since that day when Delayna took part in that wretched experiment, I've wanted to come to you. I've thought about it, about you, a million times. I hated her and I hated Professor Kline.” Hoping he'd understand, Faith said, “I quit.”

“Just like that?”

“I waited to make sure you didn't come back. Kline swore you would, because he said you had nowhere else to go, no one else to go to. I heard him and Delayna talking about you, how he found you living in foster homes. He said you had no family or friends. After you left, he searched for you, but I knew when a week went by and they hadn't found you, you were gone for good.”

And knowing that had just about killed her. Faith swallowed. “So I quit.”

“Kline let you leave?”

“He wasn't happy about it.” An understatement, for sure. “For months, he threatened me.”

“Because he assumed you'd expose the institute?”

“Yes. And ... because I destroyed the files on you. ”

With that one statement, Faith regained Jamie's attention in a big way. His concentrated stare unnerved her, but at least he wasn't telling her to leave.

“Why would you do that?”

“I'm not psychic, Jamie, but I knew that the existence of those files hurt you. You didn't want anyone to know what they'd done to you.” Remembering that awful time, how hurt Jamie had been, hurt Faith now. Whenever she recalled the wild, nearly crazed look on Jamie's face when he'd searched the lab, she wanted to weep. “I made certain they disappeared.”

“Kline might have killed you for that.”

Faith shook her head. “He didn't know I was responsible. He thought
you'd
found them.”

Jamie's brows shot up. “A logical assumption. God knows, I looked everywhere and destroyed what I could.”

“Yes. But the files were in my office, and like I said, you never noticed me, so how could you have known to check my office?” Not that the small room she'd had could really be termed an office. Maybe a broom closet. “Kline knew I was privy to the tests, and he assumed that since I'd documented them, I could help reconstruct them, maybe be a witness to the results.”

“Was he right?”

“Yes.”

“But you refused?”

Her chin lifted. “Yes.”

Gradually, the ferocity faded from Jamie's gaze. “You never said a word to anyone about what happened at Farmington, about what happened with me, did you?”

Faith shook her head. “The institute is still there, but changed. Very changed.”

She could tell that Jamie didn't believe her. Given his experiences at Farmington, his personal demons wouldn't let him accept that things might be different.

As he continued to scrutinize her, Faith knew, just as she might read a book, Jamie read her.

“Can I please tell you about the changes?”

Glancing around the floor, at the way they were still half stacked on each other, Jamie shrugged. “Sure, why not? It's not like we've got anything more important to do.”

Faith smiled at his sardonic reply but quickly sobered. “Professor Kline passed away. He's gone, Jamie. Dead.”

Brutal satisfaction brought an unholy light to his incredible eyes. He said one word.
“Good.
”

Faith agreed. “His death brought about an investigation. The lab, the entire institute came under government scrutiny. Investigators exposed the more secretive experiments and shut them down. Even the CIA's involvement got brought out in the open.”

“It was never secret.” Jamie shrugged. “I was used to recover one of their top men.”

“Yes. But you agreed to that assignment. There were other assignments involving stranger stuff, things that weren't sanctioned and that pushed the edge of morality, that were recorded as well.” Faith forgot about her leg as she sought convincing words. “Jamie, you weren't the only one they used—you were just the most successful.”

“And my success was limited.”

His modesty—or perhaps denial—surprised her. “Oh, no, you have no idea how important you were to Professor Kline. You were the measuring stick for every experiment after you left. He compared every other volunteer to you. But during the investigation, files were uncovered. Not your files, but others with enough information to give Kline away.”