No One Left to Tell (26 page)

‘Nobody’s called me honey in a long time, either.’ She drew a breath. ‘I don’t have any right to ask you this, but I’m going to. Would you mind sleeping here? Just sleep?’

Meaning he’d have to lie next to her and not touch. The look on his face must have shouted volumes, because she looked away. ‘Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked.’

‘No, it’s fine.’ It would be fine.
If it kills me. Which it just might
. He climbed under the covers next to her, still wearing his trousers and shirt.

She settled on her side, facing away from him. ‘I set the clock for seven.’

‘Fine.’ This close, he could smell her hair. He fought with himself for a minute, then gave in and put his arm around her waist. She relaxed into him and he relaxed too, despite the hard-on that he couldn’t ignore.

She went still and he knew she hadn’t been able to ignore it either. ‘Wow.’

‘Sorry. I can’t help that.’

She rolled to her back, staring up at him. ‘Don’t be sorry. I’m . . . very flattered.’

The awareness flaring in her eyes sent the remaining blood straight out of his head. She’d said ‘just sleep’ but his body didn’t care. He dipped his head, as her hand curved around the back of his neck. She pulled him closer, making it clear it was a yes.

He’d meant to keep it sweet, but as soon as she opened her mouth under his, his control snapped. He ate at her mouth, making her moan. Making her writhe. Making his blood pound in his ears when she thrust her hips against his hand.

He stopped, panting. His hand was between her legs and her eyes were closed. She looked like a woman on the verge and he cursed himself even as he drank her in.

She was hot and he could feel her getting damp through the layers of fabric that kept her from him. He wanted to rip the pants down her legs. He wanted to taste. Needed to thrust long and hard and as deep as he could. He wanted her. All of her.

He brushed her lips with his. ‘I want to eat you alive,’ he whispered and she shivered convulsively. She opened her eyes and for a moment they simply stared.

Then she spoke, her voice husky and pained. ‘I can’t have sex with you.’

Stunned, he blinked. ‘Not this minute, or not ever?’

Her eyes stayed steadfastly on his. ‘This minute.’

‘But not, not ever?’

‘No. Definitely
not
, not ever.’

‘Okay.’ He tried to think. ‘But since you opened the door to this specific line of questioning . . . When?’

‘I don’t know. Just not tonight.’

‘But you want to?’

‘God, yes,’ she breathed. She moved his hand. ‘We need to talk first.’

He frowned, his mind immediately going in all kinds of bad directions. ‘About what?’

‘Nothing like that. I’m . . . okay.’

‘How long has it been?’

‘Eighteen months,’ she said and his frown deepened.

‘Why?’

‘Because that’s when I saw my best friends find the real thing and finally realized what I was missing.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. Lots of men.’

Lots of men
. The shame in her eyes told him it had been hard for her to admit. ‘Did you love any of them?’ he asked roughly.

‘No,’ she said with brutal honesty. ‘I wanted to, but I knew they were temporary.’

He wasn’t sure what to say. What she needed him to say. So he asked what he needed to know. ‘Why?’

Her smile was filled with a self-loathing he understood more than she could ever know. ‘I could claim my childhood sucked and I never knew my father, but the truth is that I didn’t want to be alone and accepted what I could get. Then Olivia found David and my life was glaringly . . . empty.’ She shrugged. ‘I got fed up with hating myself. I decided I’d rather be alone than waste my time and dignity with Mr Wrong.’

Shit. Just . . . shit
. ‘So this time you’re holding out for the real thing?’

She winced at the caustic tone he hadn’t meant to use. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I thought you should know before we go any further.’

‘It’s way too soon . . .’ He let the words drift off as her mouth curved wryly.

‘I don’t believe in love at first sight. But there’s something between us. You’re here, in my bed, for God’s sake.’

‘You asked me to sleep here,’ he said defensively.

‘I know.’ Again the shame flickered in her dark eyes.

Guilt stabbed him deep. She’d been through hell and simply asked not to be alone. To just sleep. And he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her. ‘I’m the one who pushed it,’ he said and she shrugged again.

‘If I said I hadn’t anticipated this, I’d be lying. But I was hoping to put this off a little longer. We can call this attraction, fascination, pure lust. Whatever. If you’re open to the real thing, I’m interested in seeing where this goes. Very interested. But if you’re not . . . I can’t. I can’t go back to the person I was. It’s important to me.’

‘I don’t do relationships.’ The words were lame, especially after what she’d shared.

‘Why not?’ she asked and he had no answer. Seconds ticked by and her eyes changed, going carefully expressionless, driving the spear of his guilt even deeper.

She cleared her throat. ‘I guess that tells me everything I needed to know.’

His throat closed, panic and despair overwhelming him. ‘I won’t leave you alone tonight. I’ll sleep on the sofa.’ But he didn’t want to leave her bed. ‘If you want me to.’

Indecision filled her eyes, but the shame was still there. ‘I’d sleep better if you stay.’

‘Then I’ll stay.’ And he wouldn’t touch her again.

She nodded stiffly. ‘I appreciate it. Let’s . . . just go to sleep.’ She rolled back to her side. The next breath she drew was ragged and he knew she was holding back tears.

His hand reached to stroke her arm before he knew it. He snatched it back.
Leave her alone. You’re just going to hurt her, like all the others
.

He never meant it to end this way, and it always did. This was ending a hell of a lot faster than it had with all the others, but it had been that kind of a day. The others had always declared him insufficient and gone on with their lives. Now, lying in Paige’s bed, he realized he’d picked them for their ability to do just that.

But he hadn’t picked Paige. She’d slammed into his life like a freight train. And he knew that when he hurt her, she’d stay hurt for a long time. That he couldn’t stand. He would stay with her until she was safe. Until this was over. Then he’d leave her alone.

He knew that this time, he’d hurt for a long time, too.

He lay on his back, wondering how he’d managed to so royally fuck everything up. He didn’t know how much time had passed when she spoke, still turned away from him.

‘I have a confession. When I’m not caught in a bad dream, I’m a very light sleeper. Things wake me up. Conversations. On cell phones. In cars. About Carly.’

Carly?
Carly
. Understanding came, followed closely by dread as he tried to remember what he’d said in the car. ‘You heard me talking to my mother.’

‘Yes. You told her she’d like me. Then you said you couldn’t tell “them” because you couldn’t risk them telling. You told her not to tell me. Tell me what?’

Anger bubbled up. ‘You should have told me you were awake.’

‘I know. I almost did, but you got upset with her and I didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have listened, but I did.’

‘And you’re hoping I’ll tell you now?’ he asked harshly. ‘Just like that?’

‘I don’t know.’ Her voice grew small. ‘Maybe. I’ve told you everything about me.’

‘This is different.’ Seething, he rolled out of her bed, sitting on the side, his back to her. ‘Dammit, Paige. You had no
right
.’

‘I know. I said I was sorry. What else can I say?’

He didn’t answer, the anger continuing to burn in his gut. She’d spied. Listened.
I trusted her
.

Well, no, you really didn’t. If you had, you would have told her
.

I have no reason to trust her. I just met her
.

She trusted you. With her life
. That was a harder one to negate. Because she had.

He heard the sheets rustle, felt the mattress dip. He looked over his shoulder to find her sitting up, watching him, her expression a mixture of apprehension and hurt.

‘What?’ he snapped defensively and she flinched.

Then her chin came up. ‘I won’t tell.’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘Tell what, exactly?’

Her brows knit, nonplussed. ‘That you’ve got a secret. Which is all I really know.’

‘And?’

‘No “and”. That’s all.’

‘No, it’s not. You’ll need to know. Wheedle. Nag. Pry.’ Anger became bitterness. ‘Cry, even. And then I’ll feel guilted into spilling my guts when all I wanted was privacy.’

‘You’re wrong about that,’ she murmured.

He frowned. ‘What does that mean?’

‘It means that I won’t have the opportunity to wheedle, nag, or pry because this will be the only night I’ll see you here, this way, in my room.’ She said the words evenly, without heat, but this time he flinched, his chest tightening painfully. She shrugged. ‘You’re the one who doesn’t do relationships.’

‘So now you’re punishing me.’

She closed her eyes. ‘No. I’m being honest. And, in my opinion, a good bit more rational than you. You say you don’t want forever. You just want now. I say that I deserve better than that. I deserve forever with someone who wants . . .
me
. And I won’t settle for less.’

Her words took his anger and squeezed it dry, leaving shame in its place. She was right. ‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured.

‘You should be. You don’t know me well enough to know that I never wheedle, nag, or pry, so I’ll cut you some slack on that one.’ She was utterly serious. And, it would appear, a bit angry as well. ‘But that you thought I’d
cry
to manipulate you into “spilling your guts” is downright insulting.’

‘You’re right,’ he said simply. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I know.’ Her temper faded quickly, leaving an expression of sadness that hurt his heart to see. ‘Let’s just get some sleep. It’ll be daylight soon.’ She scooted back under the blanket, pulling it up to her chin. ‘Stay or go, but do something quickly.’

He hesitated, then gave in to the yearning she’d brought forth from him. He lay down beside her and let out a quiet breath. ‘I can tell you that I haven’t done anything illegal or that should make you be afraid of me.’

She rolled over to look at him, warily curious. ‘Why would you think I’d be afraid of you?’

He shrugged. Improvised. Lied. ‘I’m a big guy. You’ve been hurt before.’

She held his gaze for so long that he wanted to run away. She saw too much. But ‘Okay’ was all she said before closing her eyes and within minutes she was breathing steadily. He’d thought her asleep until she put her hand in his, threading their fingers. ‘Rest, Grayson. I won’t ask you any more questions that you don’t want to answer.’

He should have been relieved. And he very well might be, once he could breathe again. But that wasn’t going to be tonight.

Wednesday, April 6, 6.30
A.M
.

Adele woke to Darren shouting, ‘Goddammit, Rusty! What did you do?’

She hurried down the stairs. ‘Darren, what’s wrong with—’ She stopped abruptly at the bottom of the stairs, the stench turning her stomach inside out.

Darren stood in the kitchen doorway. Garbage lay strewn around the trash can. Vomit and diarrhea covered the floor.

‘Oh God.’ Adele had to fight to keep from retching.
I don’t need this. Not today
.

‘Where is that dog?’ Darren demanded. ‘God only knows what he ate.’

Rusty had the most sensitive stomach of any dog she’d ever heard of. The least bit of human food had him runny for a week.

‘You go find him and put him in his crate,’ Adele said. ‘I’ll start cleaning up.’

‘I’ll put him in his crate,’ Darren muttered. ‘Then I’ll send it to Abu Dhabi, one way.’

It was his usual threat, but Rusty was safe. Darren would never give the dog up. He’d fought his ex-wife for custody of Rusty in what had been a toxic divorce after his ex had cheated. Rusty was a permanent fixture. Luckily Adele liked him.

But not today. She began sweeping the trash when she noticed the box.
Oh no
.

It was the box the chocolates had come in, the chocolates that had come from a client she hadn’t dealt with in six months. She’d thrown the box away, too paranoid to even risk keeping them around. But the box was empty. Rusty had eaten the chocolates.

Relax. This is normal
. Chocolate made Rusty spew, but he was always fine after.

‘Adele!’ Darren’s panicked shout came from the den. He ran into the kitchen, Rusty’s limp little body in his arms. ‘I can’t wake him up. He’s unconscious.’

‘Take him to the emergency vet. I’ll take Allie next door and meet you there.’

Wednesday, April 6, 9.30
A.M
.

Paige looked up from her notebook, reaching for the china coffee cup on the very expensive table in Grayson’s dining room. She’d checked in with Olivia and Clay and was now trying to plan her day, but the man sitting across from her was openly staring, unnerving her.

Grayson had brought her here to change his suit, then wait while he met with the cops. She had deadbolts and a dog, he said, but his place had a security system.

Apparently a critical component of the system was its installer, Grayson’s ‘brother’ Joseph Carter who had been tagged for babysitting duty until it was Paige’s turn to face IA as a confidential informant. Thinking about the questions they’d ask made her feel sick, so she looked at Joseph instead.

Grayson’s brother wore a gun holstered at his side and gave off a darkly menacing vibe. She didn’t feel threatened – she had Peabody at her feet as well as all of her weapons – but she didn’t know what to make of the man. He had one of those faces that wasn’t exactly handsome, but still . . . compelling. About Grayson’s age, Joseph was tall, dark and broody.