The Stranger (29 page)

“Not too shabby.” Louise stuffed tiny cakes in her mouth as she moseyed around the room, taking in the elaborate wallpaper, the heavy drapery, and the massive canopied bed. She poked at the mattress. “To think that an old broad like me gets to sleep on a bed like this one.”

I went around the room, collecting everything remotely breakable from the mantel top, the shelves, and the tables. After piling my findings on a tray, I handed them over to Robert. “Here.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“Better safe than sorry?”

“Ah.” He inclined his head formally. “Excellent idea, Miss Silva.”

Louise dropped into one of the club chairs by the fire, propped her feet on the ottoman and popped a tiny sandwich in her mouth.

“Will there be anything else?” Robert said.

“Sure, handsome,” Louise mumbled through a mouthful. “How about a shot of whisky? I like a little punch in my tea, if you get my drift.”

“I’ll have a selection delivered to your room.” Robert walked out of the room, trailed by Louise’s brazen stare.

I groaned. “Louise!”

“What?”

“Stop staring at him!”

“It’s not my fault that the waiter has a nice ass.”

“He’s not a waiter,” I said, exasperated. “He’s the house manager for the Ericksons and the man who helped raised Seth and his siblings.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice.” Louise grinned. “Seth has a nice ass too.”

It was going to be a long night.

I perched on the chair across from Louise. “Do you want to tell me what the hell you’re doing here? And why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“It was a spur of the moment decision,” Louise said. “I thought about it and I did it.”

Of course it was an impulse. That’s how Louise and Tammy lived their lives, but I didn’t say that aloud.

“To be honest,” Louise said, “I was lonely without my girls. It’s so boring without anyone around. I’ve got my bridge friends, but even those gals get stale like moldy bread. So when Hector showed up at my door, I said, ‘What the hell. Let’s go to Alaska.’”

“Hector showed up at your door?”

“You know he keeps an eye on us,” Louise said. “He said you were working on a difficult project. I would’ve never dared to come out here on my own, didn’t have the dough either. But Hector offered to pay for the ticket and so I came. We tried calling you, but your cell didn’t answer. When we got to the house, they told us you were at a concert. Then that woman called us up to her throne room. Didn’t know Alaska had a queen. But enough about that: Where’s Tammy?”

I told Louise everything I’d done to find Tammy. I also told her a little about Seth. She asked a lot of questions, some of which I wasn’t ready to answer just yet.

“Does the boy know?” Louise’s eyes widened with expectation.

“Yes,” I said, although I didn’t tell her how he had found out that I walked in my sleep.

“Are you okay with him knowing?”

“I trust him.”

“Holy cow, Batman.” Louise stared. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that about anyone other than your dad.”

No point in denying the truth

A discreet knock echoed from the door. I got up and answered. It was Seth, his face set in that terrifying, forbidding expression, his eye still bruised from the fight earlier. I stepped out of the room and, closing the door behind me, faced him.

“I’m really, really sorry,” I mumbled.

He inspected my knuckles. “How’s your hand?”

“Fine.”

“Good,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

“I can’t,” I said. “I should stay with Louise tonight.”

Seth’s jaw tightened. “I was afraid you were going to say something like that.”

“There’s a lot of expensive china in this house,” I said. “Who knows what kind of trouble Louise will get into if I’m not around?”

“You’re not her babysitter.”

“What other option do I have?”

The door to Louise’s bedroom cracked open to reveal her face and an apologetic grin. “How about you go sleep with the boy and let your old stepmom do her thing?”

“Oh, lord.” I sighed. “Didn’t we agree that listening to other people’s conversations behind closed doors was a bad habit?”

“Sure,” Louise said. “But I still like to do it.”

I gave Seth a cursory look. Did I have the fortitude to face his anger tonight?

“We’ll both stay here tonight,” he decided, making no allowances for disagreement, texting on his cell as he spoke. “I’ll have Robert send someone to fetch our things and I’ll leave directly from here to Juneau tomorrow. You can be close by in case of a china emergency.”

“Sounds peachy.” Louise reached out with her scrawny arm and pinched Seth’s cheek. “Smart and cute. Watch the temper, handsome, will ya? My girl is like an Easter cream egg, a hard shell outside, but all sweet and gooey inside.”

I stomped my foot. “Louise!”

“Good night.” She waved as she closed the door.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “Welcome to Silvaland.”

“Thanks.” Seth started down the hallway. “Now we’re even.”

* * *

I followed Seth to what used to be his old bedroom. Decorated in tones of blue, it was as posh and luxurious as the rest of the house. A bad feeling weighed me down as we entered the room. I was exhausted and I didn’t know how else to apologize. I didn’t know what Seth was thinking, but by the stern tilt of his mouth, I figured it was nothing good.

I gasped when he took off his coat. Blood blotched the back of his shirt. “You’re bleeding!”

“It’s nothing.” He shrugged, but I lifted the back of his shirt and examined his back.

“It’s that stubborn spot that won’t heal.” Damn Alex and his vitriol. “It looks like it got torn in the fight. You should’ve told me you were hurting. We could’ve had Stuart take a look.”

“I’m fine.” He marched into the bathroom.

“You’re not fine.” I followed him. “You should see a doctor.”

“Not necessary.” He closed the door on me.

I knew how he felt about doctors. I also knew how he felt about other people looking at his scars. But he had to be hurting and I worried a lot about infection. The sound of the shower echoed from the bathroom. I was certain that the water coming out of the faucets flowed cold as ice.

He took a long time in the shower. He had to be burning in addition to hurting. Robert arrived, along with a steward who helped carry our things, laptops, and essentials. I thanked Robert and retrieved what I needed from Seth’s carry-on. Then I changed for bed and waited some more.

When Seth finally came out of the bathroom, he wore pajama pants, hanging low on his hips. The shiner around his eye had darkened, but the swelling had actually gone down. He looked tired. I had the prescription ointment in my hand and a new silicone patch laid out on the night table. He gave the stuff a surly look.

“Please?” I said.

Without a word, he stretched belly down on the bed. I knelt on the mattress next to him and examined his back. The blood was gone now, but the lesion was ripped open and larger than before. I cursed under my breath. I should’ve socked Alex harder.

I dabbed on the medicine as gingerly as possible, cringing when he flinched. I placed a new silicone patch and applied some lotion over the scars on his back, trying to warm his cold skin and knead the tension that knotted his muscles.

“Summer?” he said while I worked on him. “We’ve got to have a serious talk.”

My heart froze. My hands stilled over his shoulder blades. I knew what he was going to say. What I’d done tonight was unforgivable. I’d upset his grandmother. Meddled in his family’s affairs. Endangered him and his friends. Messed up a really great night, possibly the best of my life.

I knew he must have other complaints, worries that haunted me too. My stepmother had to figure highly among them. She’d made such a racket. And the vase she broke. I had no idea how I was going to pay for it. Maybe Astrid would take me on as an indentured servant. God, what a mess. Tears swelled in my eyes. There were many, many reasons why this couldn’t work out. Tonight was only one more.

“Summer?” He craned his neck to look at me. “Are you listening?”

“I’m listening,” I said in a strangled voice. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Leave?” He flipped over and sat up, smearing lotion all over the bedcovers and the upholstered headboard. The scowl on his face iced my guts. “Why the hell would I want you to leave?”

“Because you haven’t said much since the fight with Alex.” The pitch in my voice rose steadily. “Because I come from a crazy family and I’m not Alaska-suitable. Because I started the fight with Alex and upset your grandmother. Because I’m a freak of nature and I walk in my sleep. Because things are moving too fast, things have gotten too intense, and you’ve had enough of me.”

“Jesus Christ.” He huffed and ran his fingers through his hair, leaving strands standing up like raised hackles. “Where do I begin to unravel all that crap? First, I haven’t had a chance to talk to you all night with all these people around. Second, you didn’t start that fight with Alex. It started a long while back, way before you were even on the horizon. Third, you’re not a freak of nature and I don’t give a rat’s ass if you walk in your sleep. It’s the rest of the stuff you said that really pisses me off. If you think we’re moving too fast, then that’s on you. Don’t put it on me.”

“You have to admit it.” I stared at my hands. “It’s a little unreal.”

“Fine, I admit it.” He got up from the bed and began to pace the room. “It happened real fast. But I can’t control the way I feel. In fact, I can’t help it. I don’t know how to slow this down, and frankly, I don’t want to. So what if it’s too fast or intense? Does it scare the shit out of me sometimes? Yes. Do I want to end it? No. Do you want to end it?”

I swallowed a dry gulp. “No.”

“Then this discussion is over.” He sat next to me and hugged me against his chest. “You’re not leaving and that’s final.”

My head ached. I buzzed with all kinds of emotions. I don’t know what happened to me. The tears caught me by surprise. They just popped out of my eyes like hot kernels. I dipped my face in my hands and cried, because so much had happened in so little time and the emotions overwhelmed me.

“Oh, shit, don’t cry, Summer.” Seth gathered me on his lap, frantically kissing my forehead, my nose, my wet cheeks. “If I said something wrong, hit me over the head, take a hammer to my laptop, do whatever you want, but please, baby, don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry.” I curled in his lap. “I don’t seem able to stop right now. But Seth...my stepmother,” I hiccupped. “She broke a freaking Ming vase!”

“Forget about the stupid vase,” he said. “It’s nothing. It wasn’t a real Ming. Okay? Just...stop crying...please? Hell, tell me what you need and I’ll get it done. I’m about to crap my pants over here.”

“I’m fine.” I took in a deep breath. “This is just emotion...fear...frustration. I came to Alaska to find Tammy. I haven’t found her, but instead I found you. I wasn’t expecting you. I hadn’t planned on you.”

“I know.”

“I’m an architect.” I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes. “I design things. Buildings. Lives. It’s what I do. But this, this didn’t happen by design. It’s just...a lot.”

“Hush, baby.” He lifted me gingerly, undid the bed covers and deposited me on the crisp sheets and against the pillows. “You’re just tired and today was stressful all around.”

He tucked me in and turned off the lights, so that only the glow of the fire illuminated the room. He settled next to me and gathered me in his arms. I laid my head on his shoulder and trailed my fingers over his skin, drawing little patterns over his chest.

“I know the concert ended badly but...”

“But what?”

“I’m going to remember tonight for the rest of my life. The lighthouse. The concert. The whale. Remember the whale?” I sniffed and gave out a little laugh. “It was fantastic. Oh, and I’ll never forget making out under the stage under Battle Dragons. Many years from now, when I tell my grandchildren about today, I’m going to blow their minds. They’re going to think I’m the coolest Grandma ever.”

Seth’s laughter rumbled against my ear. “It was a good day. I had fun too. I had fun because you were with me.”

My heart soared, because the night’s troubles hadn’t eclipsed the day’s gains.

I remembered something else. “Seth?”

“Hmm-hmm?”

“What did you want to talk to me about in the first place?”

“Oh, that.” His chest rose and fell beneath my cheek. “You’ve had enough for one day. Maybe we should wait until tomorrow.”

“Oh, come on.” I cupped his chin and, meeting his gaze, cajoled him with a pout. “Now, Erickson.”

“Okay, fine.” His Adam’s apple bounced as he cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking about us, Summer, not just today, but for the last few days.”

My body tensed in his arms. “Uh-oh.”

“Just relax and listen to what I have to say,” he said, his fingers pleasantly raking through my hair. “Please?”

“Okay.” If he kept on scratching my head, I’d listen forever.

“It was unbearable.”

“What was unbearable?”

“The time I had to spend away from you. When I went to Prudhoe Bay? It was excruciating.” His fingers rubbed against my scalp. “I’d rather be shot down again.”

“Don’t say things like that.”

“It’s true.” His hand stilled on my head. “You’ve got a right to your life. I get that. I know you love what you do and where you live. I’m not supposed to tell you what to do or how to go about your life, but I want you to think about what I’m saying.”

“What exactly is it that I’m thinking about?”

“I’m not asking you to change, or to give up on the things you want,” he said. “But we’re going to have to do something differently, because I can’t bear the thought of you leaving and I don’t want to live my life away from you.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

I watched Summer set the blankets aside and get up. The fire illuminated her figure as her feet padded quietly on the plush carpet on her way to the door. I sprang from the bed, beat her to the door, and blocked it. Eyes wide and translucent, she turned around and moved on to try the bathroom door.

I should’ve expected trouble tonight. The stress of the day had created the right kind of scenario. Combine all that with fatigue and you had all the elements that precipitated Summer’s sleepwalking episodes. It was precisely what I’d been trying to avoid all along.

I blocked her path to the bathroom, placed a hand on her shoulder and pointed her in the direction of the bed. She turned around again and went for the door as if I wasn’t standing right there.

“I have to find her,” she said.

“Not tonight,” I said. “You need to go back to bed.”

She hesitated on her feet, then went about the room. Should I wake her up? The doctor had said that waking a sleepwalker wasn’t a good idea, so I followed her.

Her face wore a blank expression. Her feet glided on the floor. She moved as she did when she was awake, with grace and purpose. The blood curdled in my veins when she tested a window next. Had I not been there to anticipate her moves, she would’ve been outside by now.

She looked around the room, past me. Her gaze fell on the desk, where her laptop idled. She stared at the laptop for a while, then her knees flexed and she sat on the chair.
Plop
. Her fingers landed on her keyboard. She began to type prodigiously fast, calling up complex formulas and design specifications, applying her calculations to the architectural designs popping up on her screen with mind-blowing speed.

I stood behind her and called out softly. “Summer?”

She didn’t answer. Her behavior seemed different from the last time, more focused, more concentrated and less interactive. I suddenly wished I had Dr. Sanchez on speed dial. I tried talking to Summer, but it was as if she couldn’t hear me.

“Summer, baby, don’t you want to go back to bed?”

No reply. The minutes ticked by. I sat with her, but she didn’t seem to be aware of my presence. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her lips looked dry. She was completely caught in what she was doing.

“Baby,” I finally said. “Tell me what’s going on. Tell me what you’re doing.”

Her fingers didn’t stop typing, but her eyes considered me briefly.

“The tundra’s delicate ecosystem is susceptible to temperature changes,” she said in a flat monotone. “Temperature changes melt the permafrost, destabilizing structural foundations. Self-regulating pylons inspired by the ones in your house will support a solid structural framework that, designed to the correct specifications, will bear the living and working compounds.”

I gawked at the blueprints popping on her screen. “Summer, this is brilliant.” She’d designed a smart pylon
while
she slept. The doctor had mentioned a case where a sleepwalker, a mathematician by trade, had solved complex problems in her sleep, but this was extraordinary. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it happen with my own two eyes.

But even with the pylon solution at hand, Summer kept at it, snared in some sort of sleepwalking rage, working herself to oblivion. Exhaustion etched her face. I had to do something.

“Summer,” I said in a firmer tone. “You need to stop. Now.”

Her fingers froze on the keyboard. Her hands dropped to her lap. Her head fell forward and her eyelids drooped. I realized she hadn’t listened to me when I talked to her normally, but she had followed my commands.

Commands?

Summer would follow instructions, but only when she was asleep?

I tested my new hypothesis. “Summer, get up, please.”

To my amazement, she pushed back on the chair and stood up.

“Go to the bed,” I said and she did just so. “Get under the covers.” I guided her gently. “That’s it. Good.”

I tucked her in, kissed her forehead and lay down next to her. Her eyes were open and fixed on the ceiling. I reviewed the night’s lessons in my mind. She was as persistent in her sleep as she was when awake. She was prone to working frenzies while sleepwalking. She could engineer design solutions in her dreams and work herself to oblivion. She followed directions. The realization made me feel queasy. Would she follow anyone’s directions?

“Summer?” I turned on my side and, propping myself up on my elbow, faced her. “I’m going to ask you some questions and you will answer them. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” She fixed her gaze on me, pupils huge, green speckled irises translucent, ethereal and haunted.

“Have you always followed instructions when you sleepwalk?”

One shoulder came up, a fragile, uncertain shrug that reminded me she remembered nothing of her sleepwalking episodes and hated herself for it. “Daddy said I did. So did Louise. And Tammy.”

“Did anyone else know?”

Both shoulders rose from the pillow this time around, a reluctant gesture that combined with her lips’ subtle downturn set off my alarms.

“Well?” I insisted. “Who else knew?”

“Sergio.”

Son of a bitch. Sergio De Havilland, her ex-husband. The bile roiled in my stomach. My mind churned, remembering everything I’d learned about the dirtbag and the times his name had come up in my conversations with Summer.
You will not mention his name in my presence ever again
, she’d said that first day when we drove to Anya’s place.
For all I care
,
he’s dead
, she’d added later when I pressed her. No love lost there. The dots began to connect.

Sergio must have known about her condition. Whether she told him about all that it entailed or whether he found out on his own, it didn’t matter. By Summer’s own admission, he also knew she followed instructions while she sleepwalked. That kind of power didn’t belong to scum like De Havilland. Instead of helping her to cope, he must have betrayed her trust. How?

Summer never spoke of him. There was a good chance she never would. I felt like a miserable worm, but I needed to know.

“I’m really sorry to have to ask you this,” I said, stroking her hair. “Did your ex Sergio take advantage of you while you were sleepwalking?”

Her eyes went instantly liquid. “Yes.”

My guts melted at the sight of her tears. “When?”

“When we were in college,” she said, reluctantly.

This conversation was hard for her, even in her sleep. It was hard for me too. What I had to ask next was even harder.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I was always careful,” she murmured. “He lived in my dorm. I had a single with a door chain. We started dating, but I didn’t want to sleep with him, not yet. I warned him about my problem. But one night, there was a party. He slipped something in my drink. I woke up two days later in his dorm room.”

The sadness I spotted in her eyes launched a new surge of rage blazing through my veins. From my research, I knew that many drugs exacerbated sleepwalking episodes. Sergio must have used that knowledge to make her helpless and even more vulnerable.

I had to force myself to ask the next question. “Why did you marry him?”

“I didn’t know what else to do.” Her knuckles paled around the sheets. “At first, he wanted me to do all his schoolwork for him and take care of his—um—needs.”

My nails stabbed against my palms. I had to make a conscious effort to ease my grip before I drew blood. The only blood I really wanted to spill belonged to that son of a bitch.

“Then he wanted more,” Summer said in that even, impersonal tone. “He told me he was going to show Daddy the pictures if I didn’t marry him.”

Pictures?
“Explain.”

“The pictures of me,” she said as if I should know exactly what she was talking about. “Doing stuff. Stuff he made me do. Commands he gave me. While asleep.”

Jesus fucking Christ. I sucked in all the air in the room. “He threatened to show the pictures to your father if you didn’t marry him?”

“Yes,” she said in a frail voice. “And after we were married, he said that, if I left, if I refused to do what he told me to do, he’d plaster the pictures all over the internet. I was mortified. What would Louise and Tammy think? Daddy was sick. Grief could kill him.”

Son of a bitch. He’d played on Summer’s weaknesses to manipulate and control her. He knew how much she loved her family, especially her father, and had used that against her. It was worse than I’d imagined and for Summer’s pain, the asshole was going to pay.

I wiped the tear that spilled from the corner of her eye and took a calming breath to smother my fury. When I could speak again, I asked, “How were you able to get out of the marriage?”

“It was hard,” she said, dodging the question, even in her dreams.

“Tell me how you did it.”

Her brows met in a furious frown. “I said to him, ‘You have pictures of me? Well I have pictures of you. If you make my dad sad, I’ll make your father mad.’”

It took me a moment to realize what she meant. Then I remembered what Spider had said about De Havilland. Sergio couldn’t afford to piss off his father, who’d only pay his expenses if the son behaved. A new question lurked in my mind.

“What kind of pictures did you have on Sergio?” I asked.

“The ones about the drug deals.”

Of course. Spider had reported that Sergio was an addict, but his father didn’t know that. It all came full circle and clicked nice and neat.

“Tell me,” I said. “Who took those pictures?”

“I did.”

I stared at the woman lying beside me, at the lines etched between her brows, at the sorrow reflected in her eyes. She’d taken a tremendous risk, following Sergio to his dealer and taking the pictures herself. It was typical Summer, brave to the point of recklessness. I could only begin to imagine what she’d gone through.

“How did Sergio react when he learned you had those pictures?” I asked.

“He was furious,” Summer said. “He said I had to give him the pictures.”

“But you didn’t give him the pictures,” I said. “What did you do instead?”

“I gave the pictures to an attorney,” she said. “I told him to release them to Sergio’s father and the press if something happened to me or if pictures of me surfaced on the internet. Then I demanded a divorce. Sergio didn’t want to face his father’s rage, so he signed the papers.”

I was blown out of the water. What Summer had done was incredible.
He wouldn’t dare mess with me
, she’d said that first day in my living room.
I
made sure of that
. Indeed she had. She had single-handedly identified her opponent’s weakness, devised the only possible strategy to resolve her problem, and executed it flawlessly. She’d managed to even out the odds and free herself.

I now understood why she’d been so reluctant to warn me before she passed out on the truck, why she’d been so upset the morning after and so alarmed when she’d thought I’d had pictures of our night together. My admiration for Summer continued to grow. She was fierce. The more I learned about her, the more I understood the depth of her courage. I was in awe of her, but I wanted to pound Sergio De Havilland to dust and send the troll to hell where he belonged. Still, I forced myself to think through my anger.

Could the pictures serve as a motive for murder? It didn’t seem likely. If something happened to Summer, Sergio would be screwed. But tonight’s developments merited further research and specific follow-up. I reached for my cell and typed a message to Spider. I was about to turn up the heat on Sergio De Havilland and he didn’t know it.

I turned on my back, leaned my head on the pillow and hugged Summer to my chest. She lifted herself on her elbows, cased my face with her hands and kissed me, challenging all of my high-minded resolutions with the seductive gaze she beamed through her thick, dark, fluttering eyelashes.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” I said. “We’re not doing this again.”

“But you need me,” she said, translucent eyes ablaze. “You want me.”

“You’re so right about that.” I planted a quick kiss on her warm, plush lips.

“Your aura.” She traced the lines of my face with her soft fingertips. “It’s so beautiful. It’s like a solar flare.”

“Now you remember.” Damn my rotten luck. Her light feathering touch was sweet and innocent and yet it tightened my balls and stiffened my dick into an aching rod.

“A taste,” she murmured in between kisses that had me groaning with need. “Just a little taste?”

“Not while you’re asleep.” I hated to give my next command, but I opted to be the better version of me tonight. “Close your eyes, Summer. Go to sleep.”

She laid her head on my shoulder. Her lids fell like curtains over her eyes. Her body relaxed against mine. Her respiration evened. I stared at the ceiling. Everything I’d learned tonight contributed to my worries. I’d known that Summer was vulnerable when sleepwalking, but I hadn’t realized how vulnerable.

I didn’t get to sleep for a long time. When I finally did, the nightmares came: the planes flying into the towers, the RPG punching through the helicopter, Summer walking into the ocean like her mother. And my life, empty all over again.

* * *

“Morning, beautiful,” I said, as soon as her eyes opened.

She smiled and the day got a whole lot better as I appropriated her lips.

“I love waking up to you,” she mumbled against my mouth.

“Me too.”

I traced the edges of her face with my lips, pressing small kisses along the line of her jaw. Her eyes were slatted with traces of sleep. Her hair spilled all over the pillow. Lines from the sheets marked her cheek. Christ. Having her in my bed felt like a prize.

“Did I?” she asked.

I had to tell her the truth. “You did.”

Fear flared in her eyes. “Did I get out?”

“Do you really think I’d let you get away like that?” I smirked. “Not under my watch. No worries, you were very active last night, but I fought you off my body with heroic flair.”

“My hero.” She giggled. “You must be exhausted after such an epic battle.”

“You are the one who must be tired,” I said. “You worked out a brilliant technical solution to Jer’s pylon problem last night.”