Touching Darkness (22 page)

She expected Eric to object, but he didn't. Nicholas drew her toward a small doorway that went downstairs to another level. They walked through an open area with a gym on one side and couches on the other, and down a hall that mirrored the one above.

“I want to take a shower.”

“Of course.” He led her into the first room and opened a door to the bathroom. “It connects to Zoe and Rand's room. Make sure you lock their door.” He did so for her. “There are towels and washcloths in here.” He opened the cabinet beneath the sink and pulled one of each out for her. “I'll see if any of the girls have some extra pajamas or something you can sleep in.”

She stood in the bathroom, feeling so lost, so alone.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “No, of course you're not.”

“For the first time in my life, I'm afraid to be alone.” She turned to Nicholas. “Take a shower with me. Please.”

E
ric paced the length of the room. “I don't like it. He brought the friggin' enemy into our home.”

Lucas pulled Amy closer. “There's nothing we can do about it now, and that includes keeping her prisoner. Just like she knew it wasn't me crawling into her dreams, I have a feeling she isn't going to betray us. Nicholas obviously trusts her.”

Eric scowled. “Nicholas is thinking with other parts of his body.”

Lucas shook his head. “I don't think so. He's in love with her, not just lust. And she was pretty shook up about what her father had done. She didn't deny it or argue. It was like she was accepting something she's suspected for a while.”

Amy leaned her head against Lucas's arm. “She was devastated.”

“How's this going to affect our goal? Will Nicholas be able to participate when we move in to kill Darkwell? It is her father, after all.”

“We'll evaluate both of them in the next day or so.” Eric gave Lucas a pointed look. “Maybe we better discuss this, because I'm thinking of killing them both right about now.”

Lucas and Eric went two flights down to the shooting range. The place where he was supposed to die.

As soon as the door was closed, Lucas said, “You don't want to kill them.”

“Not entirely. I just said that to give us a reason to talk. Good thing I didn't kill you. Look happy. It wasn't you.”

Lucas shook his head, a humorless laugh erupting. “I have an evil twin. Great. Okay, it's a relief, but I still don't think it was him who made me shoot Robbins. I wasn't asleep. I blanked out, like I've been doing. I want you to keep an eye on me. At the first sign of—”

“Yeah, yeah, I'll kill you.”

Lucas wasn't so sure he would, though, not after what happened earlier or the cavalier way he'd said it. Once again, he wasn't sure he could depend on him. That worried him most of all.

 

Olivia hadn't meant to say the words. The fear flooding through her was nothing she'd ever felt before. She was at a loss to deal with it. Right now she didn't want to deal with it alone. Physically, she was safe, at least for these moments. But knowing that man could get into her soul was the worst kind of violation. She couldn't sell her soul and move somewhere else.

“I'll do anything you want.” Nicholas moved closer, his hands on her arms.

Anything.
The words were like warm honey flowing over her.

She started unbuttoning her pajama top, wanting the filthy clothes off her body. They piled bloodred on the tile floor.

He turned on the shower and stripped out of his clothes. He stuffed the whole pile into the trash can. He had a swimmer's body, long, lean, with narrow hips and muscular legs. Even tired and scared and numb, she recognized his beauty.

Steam billowed out of the shower. She looked away when he stood to face her. She was trying not to look at his body, and he was trying not to look at hers. He helped her step into the tub and moved her beneath the flow of
hot water. She closed her eyes and leaned her head into it. Despite the heat, she began shivering again and wrapped her arms around herself.

He folded his arms around her, pulled her close, and kissed the top of her head. “It's okay to cry or scream or whatever you need to do.”

No, it was never okay to display her emotions. They were a sign of weakness. She pressed her cheek against him, losing herself in his comfort. Pain and anger and fear radiated through her, but his body buffered that somehow.

“I apologize for the hard-on,” he said. “This isn't about that, but my body didn't get the message.”

She actually laughed, and it felt good. “It's all right.”

He squeezed some liquid soap on a washcloth, then washed her arm, her hand, even between her fingers. He moved the cloth across the back of her neck to start on the other side. He was so tender, careful not to touch her too intimately. He washed her back, then her stomach and down her legs, as though it was the most important job he'd ever done.

“You have a lot of bruises,” he said in a soft voice.

“From roller derby.”

When he rose, he came face-to-face with her. She took the cloth and washed her intimate areas. Then she washed the cloth, lathered it, and turned to him.

He said, “You don't have to…”

She started washing him the same way. She gently traced the remnants of scratches on his chest. “How did you get these?”

“Escaping the estate. I had to push myself into the hedges in the maze.”

She couldn't stand the thought of his being hunted like an animal, especially at the direction of her father. While she stood and obeyed her father's command to stay in his office.

Don't go there, not now.

A wall of emotion hovered at the edge of her consciousness, like a tidal wave frozen in place.

She focused on washing his shoulders, chest, the ridges of his stomach, the firmness of his biceps, down his back, and over his small, firm buttocks. He had bruises, too. She washed his legs as he'd washed hers and couldn't help but notice the rigid length of him at full attention. She'd only touched one man, their lovemaking fired by teenaged lust. Since then, her dates had never inspired her to go much further than a kiss.

When she turned to hang the cloth over the shower rod, he was pouring shampoo into the palm of his hand. He rubbed it on her hair, scrubbing her scalp and running his fingers through her long hair. She closed her eyes, his touch relaxing her. Several minutes later she stepped into the flow of water and rinsed out the shampoo.

She took the same bottle and poured some out and then reached up to his head. “You have the most interesting hair I've ever seen.” He bent to accommodate her, and running her fingers through his hair was as nice as feeling it on her head. “I mean, in a good way. It's thick and choppy and has that just-woke-up look.”

“My cowlicks are a barber's nightmare. I started cutting it myself rather than frustrate them. It comes out about the same.”

After rinsing, he cut the shower and stepped out, handing her a towel. She tried not to watch him drying his body.
Like he said, this is so not the time for those thoughts.

She caught her reflection in the mirror, her hair as messy as his, her face pale, her eyes haunted. Everything seemed unreal, as though it were happening to someone else.

She touched her copper pendant. “My father said this pendant was supposed to protect me from people with psychic abilities. He had it made for me when I was young and told me to wear it every day. I thought it was because of the family crest, honor…all that crap. When I told him my
fears about Sayre, he said it should keep him—he thought it was Lucas—out. But it didn't.”

He touched the pendant, their fingers brushing. “This was why I couldn't remote-view you. It was making me crazy.”

She looked at him. “Have you ever remote-viewed me before?”

Something crossed his expression, like a boy caught with his hand in the candy box. “Yes, after I left the estate. I was worried about you.”

“During the day or night?”

“Only at night.”

“I took off the pendant at night. I didn't know I was supposed to wear it at all times. What…did you see?”

“Once you were sleeping. The other time…” He took her hand and led her into the bedroom. She dropped her towel as he tugged her into his embrace. Then he started dancing with her. His gaze was on hers, one hand on her waist, the other entwined with hers. He spun her in slow circles.

“You saw me dance?”

“I know, I shouldn't have. After what you just went through, it must seem like another violation. You were so graceful, sensuous, and there wasn't a chance in hell I could tear away, even if my conscience was screaming at me.”

How embarrassing. “I dance to release pent-up energy.”

He grinned. “I could tell.”

Could she die right there? “I didn't know anyone was watching! Did I look stupid?”

“No way. But I can tell you also release anger.” His smile dimmed. “I assumed it was aimed at me, especially the Alanis Morissette song.”

“I remember that night, after you'd grabbed me and warned me about Sayre. I
was
mad at you. And myself.”

“Why?”

Shoot, she'd said too much. “Because I should have hated you…but I didn't.” Her mouth twisted in a grimace, but she changed the subject. “You're a pretty good dancer yourself.”

“My sister and I used to dance with our mom. She talked about how she and Dad danced, and we wanted to fill that need, give her that glow, like kids think they can because they don't know any better.” His eyes shadowed for a moment. “And I wanted to be like my father.” He focused on her. “You like dancing. You're good at it, though I'm glad you didn't use that skill to make a living at strip clubs.” His eyebrow quirked. “Unless there's another secret side of you?”

She laughed. “No, roller derby is it. I do love dancing. When I was a child, I wanted to be a CIA agent, a dancer, and own a cake shop. But even then, my father was luring me in. I see it now. He set up these treasure hunts, secret missions. He made it sound so enticing to do what he did. And I idolized him. I wanted to be like him, too.” She shuddered, thinking of what she knew of him now.

His laugh was a sweet sound, lifting her out of her gloomy thought. “Roller derby! Here I thought I was going to find you at a serene yoga class.” His eyes sparkled with delight.

“My secret alter ego: Pebbles Bamm-Bamm.”

“I love it.”

He really saw her. In his eyes, she was a desirable woman, a fascinating woman. She'd never been fascinating to anyone before.

She leaned up and kissed him. He kissed her back, gently, his hand cradling her cheek. It was she who deepened the kiss, sweeping her tongue across his teeth as they'd done in the kitchen.

“Livvie, you don't want to do this,” he said between kisses.

“But I do.”

He cradled her face with both his hands. “You need time to wrap your head around everything. And you must be exhausted.”

“I just want to feel. To feel alive. Safe.”

“This isn't the right time.”

“Yes, it is,” she bit out.

“I'll do whatever you want, as long as you really want it.”

She kissed him again, and he responded, but he was trying hard to restrain himself. He pulled back, gentling the kiss.

“Don't…” she whispered.

“Don't what?”

“Don't…don't…stop.”

He chuckled, remembering the exchanges they'd had. She felt him surrender, plunging into the kiss. She was hyperaware of every physical sensation, everywhere their bodies touched. She ran her hands down his back, over the curve of his buttocks, and he groaned with desire.

She took his hands and placed them on her breasts. “Touch me.”

She knew what he was thinking:
Are you sure, after what almost happened tonight?

“I want to erase what Sayre was going to do to me. I want to forget where he touched me.”

He ran his hands over her breasts, watching her as though she would shatter at any moment. She sensed he was holding back, treating her like fragile glass.

“Where else…did he touch you?” he asked.

“Here.” She slid his hand across her stomach and then down to her inner thighs. “But no farther.” Even that was too much.

She didn't realize he was lowering her to the bed until she felt it beneath her. His brown eyes didn't blaze with desire, though. He was concerned about her mental well-being.

She wanted him inside her, filling her, and the need was overpowering and scary. She pulled him close and kissed him. He kissed her back, deeply and passionately, as though he couldn't get enough of her.

She was shocked to feel his fingers slide across her wet cheeks.

“Let it out, babe,” he whispered.

He knew she was going to break down. Somehow he knew, and that was why he'd put her first when his body wanted to give in to her demands. She held on tight and sobbed. He held her just as tight.

“Oh, God…” The words squeaked out like a little girl's. Everything crashed in on her. What almost happened. What was happening now. She was hiding with the Rogues, alone, nobody, nothing.

Not alone, not right now. Tomorrow she would face all that threatened to drown her. Tonight, right this minute, she let the fear and anger and grief drag her down with its undertow while she was safe in Nicholas's arms.

O
livia climbed from a terrifying nightmare to terrifying reality. Not her bedroom. Gray walls, no windows. Nicholas lying beside her, breathing evenly. Not terrifying, but scary in its own way. The light on the nightstand was still on. The green glow of the digital clock read 11:30. Night? Morning?

She looked down and saw she was naked. The sheet rode low on Nicholas's waist, angling down to reveal a bare hip. So he was, too. Because she'd wanted him to make love to her, to erase what Sayre had tried to do.

She squeezed her eyes closed, wishing she could go back to sleep and have another chance of waking up in her own room, her normal life.

The mewl that escaped her lips woke him.

His hand wrapped around hers as he jerked himself to a sitting position. “What happened?” He looked around, expecting a threat. When he saw none, he asked, “Bad dream?”

She wanted to grip his hand and push him away at the same time. Instead, she let her hand remain limp. “Bad reality. I'm here, in this place. And everything…it happened, didn't it?”

“Yes. I'm sorry.”

She shoved out of bed, dragging the sheet with her.
“You're the one who started all this. You had to go digging. You had to make me question my father. And now I'm with the enemy, and
I'm
the enemy, to both your group and my father.” Her voice grew hoarse. “I have no one. Nothing. I'm no one. I need clothes. I need to get out of here.”

He came up behind her. “Calm down. Where are you going?”

“I need to find my family.” When the words came out, she realized that was the dark entity pushing at the edge of her consciousness the night before. “My mother's family.”

“Livvie, you've just been through hell. Give yourself a few days to absorb, decompress. You can't run off and—”

She spun around. “And you can't tell me what to do. I hate to admit it, but now it's clear. Painfully clear. My father manipulated me my whole life, and I let him. I was his obedient little girl. You gave me a hard time about that, and it pissed me off. Because you were right. I was the good Darkwell daughter because I didn't want him to reject me like my mother did. But maybe she didn't reject me. Maybe she…she…” Could she say the words, even think them?

He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. “Your mother's leaving had nothing to do with you.”

She pressed her hand over her eyes, knowing he was right and yet, not really believing it. “I always felt it did. And now…now that I'm starting to see the truth about my father, I remembered something that happened when I was three. Her family came to the house. They wanted to see me, but he wouldn't let them. I heard them accuse him of having something to do with her disappearance. I never asked him about that, of course. In fact, I shoved it into the darkest recesses of my mind. It was easy. He told me they were greedy white trash, and he was protecting me from them.”

She tightened the sheet around her. “If my father is the awful person, maybe her family isn't so awful. And maybe…maybe he did have something to do with her disappearance.” The thought cut through her like a razor blade, but she wouldn't let herself deny the possibility. She would not hide from the truth anymore. “I don't know which would be worse.”

“I get your need for family, but you're going to overwhelm yourself.”

“I'm not staying here another day. I'm not welcome, not that I blame them. It's bizarre to be hated and distrusted by people who don't even know you.”

“How about finding your aunt and cousin?”

“I need to find my mom's family first.”

“Do you want me to—?”

“No, I want to find them the normal way.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “No offense. I just need normal.” She looked down and realized she had the sheets, and Nicholas was naked.

“Fine, I'm coming with you.”

“I don't want you to.”

“Why?”

She looked at the question in his brown eyes. His world had also been cracked. He couldn't go home, either. At least he had the Rogues. They were like a family, the way they interacted, looked out for each other.

“Nicholas, you're one of them now. I'm not.”

“You are when you're with me.”

She shook her head. “You see the world in black and white. I saw my father as white, but I was wrong. But what does that make you? I don't even know. There's so much going on inside me right now.” She rubbed her forehead, hoping to smooth away the ache forming there. “I need time alone to sort it out. I don't know who I am anymore.”

He touched her chin, tilting her head to look at him.
“You were raised to believe that being part of your family, obeying the rules, was who you are. But you're so much more than that. You're still Olivia Darkwell. You're a dancer, a baker, a creative woman…a sensual woman.”

Her eyes teared up. “I'm so confused. I'm angry at my father, but I still love him. And…I have these crazy feelings for you, and anger is one of them. Why?
You saved my life.
”

He ducked his head and ran his fingers through his mussed hair. “I'm the person who made you see your father in the harsh light of reality. And you'll probably never forgive me for that. I'm sorry as hell, but I didn't make him the bad guy. He was already that. As for anything you feel for me, anger is the safest. Leaving is probably the best thing you can do. But we've still got Sayre to deal with.”

Her stomach churned at the thought of him. “He can only get me in my dreams. I'll leave my car keys at the hotel desk where I'm staying and I'll take sleeping pills. They interfere with my dream state.” Her eyes widened. “The Rogues will let me go, won't they?”

“I won't let them keep you prisoner.” He looked as though he was going to argue further, but he let out a breath instead. “I don't like it.”

“I need access to a computer to find their address. I know where the key to one of my grandfather's cars is. He doesn't drive much anymore, and the car is just sitting there.”

“What about money? Your father could be monitoring your accounts, your credit cards.”

“I'm a fugitive.” That hit her. A fugitive from her father. Would he hunt her as he'd been hunting the Rogues? Use the government's power to freeze her accounts? “I need to make him think I'm coming to talk to him, so he won't do anything yet. I'll withdraw money from my account, get the car, and leave.”

“I'm with you until you're ready to go on your own. I won't take no for an answer on that. And if you change your mind about my coming with you, I'm there. Got it?”

She nodded. “But if my father or his men find me, they'll hurt you.”

His brown eyes gleamed with determination and something she dared not identify. “That's the chance I'm willing to take.”

“Why is it better if I'm angry at you?”

He gave her mixed messages, further muddling her emotions. He was devoted, but he wanted to keep her at an emotional distance.

“Don't you think it's better, given our situation?” He went to his dresser and pulled out clothes. “I'll go ask one of the girls if she has some clothes you can borrow.”

She nodded, hating to need anything from them. He opened the door and stopped, then knelt to pick up something on the floor. He turned and held up a stack of folded clothing.

“They're ahead of me. Here's a note:
We figured she'd need something to wear. Not sure of the sizes. Olivia's about Amy's size, so this should work.”
He closed the door and walked over, holding the clothing out like an offering. “That's the way these people are.”

She chewed her lower lip, touched despite herself. “Well, I suppose they don't want me running around naked.” She went into the bathroom and changed, reluctantly reliving the moments she and Nicholas had shared in that shower. She used a washcloth to wash her face and toothpaste to brush her teeth the best she could. She returned to the room, where Nicholas was waiting for her.

She was grateful he hadn't gone up without her. The thought of going upstairs was intimidating enough.

She walked to the door. “Let's get this over with.”

He paused before turning the knob. “I wish I could take all this away from you.”

She nodded, thinking,
So do I
, but unable to voice it.

Eric and Lucas were working out in the gym. She avoided their gazes. When Eric let out a loud groan, she stiffened, prepared for a verbal onslaught. The weights clanged down, but he said nothing.

Zoe and Rand, on the couch looking over a notepad, glanced up and gave them a civil nod but nothing more.

When Olivia and Nicholas were in the middle of the stairs, she stopped, forcing him to stop, too. In a quiet voice she said, “I've made you their enemy because you brought me here.”

“They'll get over it. I don't regret my decision.”

A ghost of a smile lit her face, and her heart. She moved on, walking out into the main living room, glad she didn't have to deal with all of them at once. Amy and Petra were talking in the kitchen, and by the low tones, Olivia guessed she was the topic. A cockatoo was standing on a PVC perch. His crown feathers flattened at the sight of her, and he bent low and let out a growling sound as he rocked back and forth. Great, even the parrot didn't like her.

“Orn'ry! Stop that.”

Must be Amy's parrot, because it stopped and stood upright, but it still eyed Olivia with as much suspicion as Eric did.

Olivia walked over to the counter that opened into the kitchen. “Thanks for the clothes.”

“Yeah, that was nice.” Nicholas walked to the refrigerator. “What do you want to eat?”

Olivia put her hand on her stomach. “Oh, the thought of food doesn't sit well.”

“You've got to eat. I'll fix you some toast with peanut butter.”

He was taking control again. But he wasn't fighting her on the bigger issue of leaving on her own, so she acquiesced.

She looked at the two women, who were both compulsively stirring their coffee. “Can I use your computer?”

They gave each other a questioning look that clearly said,
Dare we trust her? She might send an e-mail to her father.

“You can stay in the room with me if you're worried,” Olivia added.

“I guess,” Amy said, nodding for her to follow. The parrot rushed to the end of its perch as though it were going to attack Olivia as she walked past.

Amy shook her finger at it. “Stop it, brat.”

It leaned away and made clucking noises.

Amy waved all that away. “It's nothing personal. He doesn't like strangers. Or, really, anyone but me.” She led Olivia down the hall to a small room with a desk, computer, and a rack of car batteries. Aiming for the power button with her bare toe, Amy booted up the PC, dropped into the seat, and a few seconds later opened an Internet page.

True to Olivia's offer, she remained standing nearby. Olivia typed in the few facts she knew about her mother, Mary Thompkins Darkwell. Her family came from Spartan, West Virginia, a wretched town, according to her father. If he could be believed.

She wrote down several addresses and phone numbers and closed the page. “Thank—”

Amy was gone. Nicholas walked in bearing a plate with peanut butter toast topped with banana slices. It actually smelled good. He was right; she would need her strength. It was going to be a rough day.

 

Nicholas left Olivia alone for a few minutes to eat her toast while he went downstairs. Eric and Lucas were working out with a fevered intensity that spoke to their fear of needing to be in shape if Olivia gave her father clues as to their whereabouts.

Nicholas sat on one of the unused benches and leaned against the preacher curl piece. “Olivia and I are heading out this morning. Family's important to her. Now that she's lost the only family she ever had, she's got this idea about connecting with her mother's side of the family. She wants to go alone, but I'm going to get her to her grandfather's car. I'm blindfolding her all the way out.”

Eric threw his towel on the floor. “I don't like it.”

Lucas tilted his head. “What are we going to do, hold her hostage?”

Nicholas looked at both men. “She's not going to tell her father anything. She understands what kind of monster he is.”

Eric scowled. “And we're supposed to believe that?”

“Yes.” He shifted his gaze to Lucas. “I've tried to locate the eye piece, but it's as though it disappeared. I'm going to three of the crash sites I worked on, see if I can find anything that might have been left behind. I figure they probably scoured it pretty good, but you never know. I need a car for a few days.”

Lucas said, “I'll get you the keys to the Camry and some cash.” He nodded toward Olivia, who was standing in the stairwell opening. “You going alone?”

“Yeah. That's the way I like it.” Normally he did. As he looked at her, though, the last thing he wanted was to be alone. Or even more importantly, for her to be alone. “I'll keep in touch. Do you have an extra phone? I want her to have one in case she needs to get hold of me.”

Eric rolled his eyes, but Lucas said, “We've got a few extras.”

“Just make sure she only has your number.” Eric turned back to his machine and continued to work out.

Lucas went upstairs to the desk, programmed Nicholas's number into the extra phone, and handed it to Olivia. He held on to it for a second as she took hold of it. “Our lives are in your hands. You understand?”

She nodded. “You won't see my father or his thugs because of me. I want nothing to do with this war.” She walked to the door, her anxiousness to get out of there clear in the tension of her body.

Nicholas knew she also meant she wanted nothing to do with them. And probably him. She wanted to escape the whole mess, her father, everything that reminded her of the betrayal she'd suffered. Unfortunately, he was afraid it wasn't going to be that easy.