Traitor (14 page)

“That’s a capital ‘S’, but I’ll let it slide this time. Goodnight, sub xoxo”

Hugs and kisses now? The man really was ridiculous. And funny. And sweet. And utterly, painfully perfect.

Chapter 10

The black sedan had followed me from the FBI offices to my house, but I was more uneasy than reassured by its presence. The possibility of the Westies figuring out that agents were following me put me on edge. It was a relief when I shut my front door behind me, closing my eyes as I leaned up against it.

Then I heard it: the lightest footfall in the hallway before me. My eyes snapped open just in time to see a black-clad man rushing towards me, something silver glinting in his hand. I didn’t have time to scream; I only had time to react. My fist shot out, aiming for his nose as Sean had instructed me. I was unwilling to try to drive his bones back into his brain with my palm. He was surprised at the move, and he barely dodged in time. He turned his cheek, and my blow glanced off his ear. The knife flashed as he brought his arm up to defend himself, and pain sliced across my wrist. Before I could draw air to scream, to alert the agents outside that I was under attack, his fist drove into my gut, hitting the tender spot where Bradley had hurt me. I crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath. I wanted to curl up into myself in a protective position, but I forced myself to roll on my back so that I could see my assailant. He advanced on me, his switchblade held before him.

“If it comes down to you or him, you’re going to choose yourself.”

Without a second thought, my hand dove into my purse, frantically searching for the gun. My fingers found the cool metal, and I grasped it, flicking off the safety and cocking it as I yanked it free. The man dropped to his knees, the weight of his body pressing into my hips. He raised the knife high, and it began to swing in a downward arc. My finger pulled the trigger before I realized what I was doing. The shot rang out, a sharp and deafening sound that rent through the air around me.

My attacker’s eyes widened in surprise for a split second before his body collapsed atop me. Adrenaline gave me the strength to push him off, and I was on my knees beside him in an instant. I pressed my hands against the center of his chest, and hot, crimson liquid streamed over them. I had to stop the bleeding; I needed to save him.

But his aqua eyes were staring blankly out of his tanned face. I recognized him as the man who had tried to cut my face that night in the parking lot when Sean had saved me. I shook my head, my mind denying the horror of what I had done. He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be dead. I pushed harder against the wound, and more blood welled up, bathing my hands in horrific, sticky heat.

“Help!” I screamed. “Help me!”

I was dimly aware of my door bursting open as two FBI agents came running in. One of them knelt beside the man, pressing two fingers against his neck.

I looked up into the agent’s brown eyes. “Help him,” I pleaded. “Call an ambulance.”

He looked at me sadly. “He’s already gone, Dr. Ellers.”

Oh god, oh god, oh god.
The words were a panicked litany in my head. I didn’t even realize that I was saying them aloud. The world was swirling around me as my mind shut down, unable to cope with what the man had just said. Strong arms caught me around the shoulders as my limbs turned to jelly. The agent pulled me away until my back was pressed against the wall. My knees drew up against my chest, and my bloody hands twined in my hair, pulling at it as though I could yank the knowledge of what I had done from my brain. My body was rocking back and forth, and I trembled as my flesh turned frigid. My teeth were chattering as I drew stilted, shaky breaths through them.

“Stay with me, Dr. Ellers,” a man’s voice commanded from beside me. But I barely heard him; I couldn’t tear my eyes from the gory sight before me. There was a high, keening cry echoing around me, and I didn’t recognize that it was being ripped from my own chest.

The man swore softly. “Call an ambulance,” he barked to the other agent.

“Already on its way.” Their voices drifted to me as though from very far away.

Why would they call an ambulance? He was dead. Oh, god, he was dead. I had killed him, had snuffed out the life of another human being.

No no no no no no no…

This had to be some sick, twisted dream. I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut, sure that when I opened them I would wake up in my own bed, with Sean pressed up against me. But I couldn’t stop looking at the fallen man, at the dark red substance that was slowly pooling around his utterly still form.

Someone else was beside me now. “Claudia,” his voice was steady. “Claudia, look away,” he commanded.

But I couldn’t comply, couldn’t tear my eyes away from the sight of the repulsive deed that I had committed. Strong fingers closed around my chin, and my face was forcibly pulled away from the sight. Clayton’s gorgeous blue eyes were filled with concern.

“Eyes on me, Claudia,” he ordered softly.

“Clayton,” his name was a sob, and I threw my arms around him, clinging to him like a lifeline. His arms closed around me as well, one snaking behind my back and the other under my knees. He lifted me up, carrying me away from the scene of my unforgivable crime. I closed my eyes and turned my face into his chest, breathing in his masculine scent that I had never really noticed before. It was rich and slightly salty, like leather that had been exposed to the sea air. I associated it with comfort, with safety. I wanted to drown in it, for it to fill my lungs until I could no longer draw breath, thrusting me into warm, dark oblivion. But I was granted no such mercy.

He set me down after a minute, but his arm remained wrapped around my shoulders. A paramedic appeared before me, and I realized that I was seated on the back of an ambulance. The woman shined a light in my eyes, and I blinked against the searing sensation.

“She doesn’t seem to have a concussion,” she said. She looked at me. “Are you hurt anywhere?” She asked, her eyes appraising me.

“I’m fine,” I said, my voice strangely detached. I didn’t feel any corporal pain; all there was was the terrible, clawing agony in my chest, shredding my heart.

But the woman noticed the goose bumps on my frigid skin and my weak, trembling limbs. “I’ll need to examine her to determine if she needs to go to the hospital,” she told Clayton. He nodded and withdrew his arm from me.

My hands shot out, grabbing at his wrist. “Don’t leave me,” I pleaded.

He gently rubbed his thumb in small circles across my palm. “You need to go inside the ambulance with Sarah. I’ll be right outside,” he assured me.

Reluctantly, I released him, knowing that I had no choice in the matter. The paramedic - Sarah – guided me into the ambulance and shut the doors to give me privacy. She sat me down on the gurney inside.

“I don’t want to go to the hospital,” I protested.

“You might not have to,” she said kindly. “But I need to look you over to make sure of that. I can see that your wrist is bleeding. Can you take off your shirt for me?”

I mechanically did as she asked, removing the blood-soaked garment. My stomach turned as I realized that it wasn’t my own blood. I didn’t look down as her gloved fingers gently brushed across the place where the knife had bitten into my skin.

“It’s not deep,” she said. “You were lucky.”

Lucky?
I felt anything but. I felt like the universe had had it out for me since I was thirteen years old, some higher power intent on torturing me.

“I’m going to have to photograph this,” she told me. “Are you okay with that?”

I just nodded numbly. A camera clicked a few times as she recorded the cut on my arm and the bruises on my stomach.

Then there was a slight, stinging pain as Sarah cleaned my wound before bandaging it, wrapping gauze around my wrist.

“Take some Advil to help alleviate some of the pain in your abdomen. I’m afraid that it’s not bad enough for me to give you anything stronger.”

“That’s okay,” I said hollowly. I didn’t want to alleviate the pain; I deserved to feel it keenly.

“Alright, you can get dressed,” she said, her voice professional. “You don’t have to go to the hospital if you don’t want to.”

I shook my head and pulled my blouse back on, my numb fingers fumbling at the buttons. It took me a few tries, but somehow I managed. When I was covered, Sarah opened the ambulance doors and helped me to sit on the back again; I knew that my legs wouldn’t support me right now. Clayton was back at my side instantly.

“Is she alright?” He asked the paramedic.

“She’s okay. She has some bruising and a small cut on her wrist, but mostly she’s in shock.”

Clayton pulled me into him again, but this time my leaden arms hung uselessly at my sides as he held me. I was distantly surprised that I wasn’t crying. I felt like I should be, but I couldn’t summon up the energy to do so.

“I want to go home,” I mumbled against him, even though I knew that I was only just outside my front door. But all I wanted was to crawl into bed and hug myself tightly.

“You can go inside in a little while,” Clayton said. “They’re just cleaning up.”

Cleaning up.
Cleaning up the gory mess that I had made. A hard shudder wracked through me, and Clayton held me tighter.

“You’re okay now, Claudia,” he reassured me. “You’re okay.”

Am I?
But I bit back the words. If I betrayed just how fucked up I felt inside, then they might not let me go home; they might not leave me alone. They might even make me go see a shrink. So I said nothing, and I concentrated hard on stilling my body’s trembling. The sooner I composed myself, the sooner everyone would go away.

I didn’t know how long Clayton held me, but eventually I heard someone say “We’re clear, Agent Vaughn.”

“Can you stand, Claudia?” He asked me, his tone cautious.

“Yes,” I said firmly. I was determined to make my legs support me, to prove that I was okay. Still, Clayton kept a supporting arm around my waist as we walked through my front door, and I was grateful for it.

I stopped short when we entered the foyer. There was no trace that a man had been murdered there. All there was was gleaming hardwood and the strong, pungent scent of bleach. The FBI worked fast.

He guided me into my living room and sat me down on my couch before settling beside me, still gripping my waist.

“What’s going to happen to me now?” I asked, my voice small. “Am I going to go to jail?”

“Of course not, Claudia,” he said, slightly alarmed. “You were defending yourself.”

“But I murdered a man,” I protested.

He pinned me with a hard look. “You didn’t murder anyone,” he told me firmly. “You were defending your own life. I made you promise me that you would. Do you remember that?”

I nodded. I had made the same promise to Sean. That didn’t mean that it made me feel any better.

Sean.

Suddenly, I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted Sean. I wanted his electric touch, his sweet smile, and his warm, reassuring embrace.

I drew away from Clayton. “I’d like to be alone now, please,” I lied. I couldn’t let Sean know about him.

Clayton looked at me with concern. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please,” I whispered. “I just want to go to sleep.”

He studied me for a long moment. “If that’s what you want,” he capitulated. “But I’m going to be right outside.”

That meant that he would see Sean come in; he would know that I had lied to him. But I didn’t care at this point. I was desperate for him to leave so that I could see Sean.

“We’re going to install an alarm system first thing tomorrow,” he told me as he stood to leave. “The guy must have picked the lock and gotten in.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, a habit much like Sean’s. “We should have been watching your house.”

I just stared at him blankly, at a loss for words. He jerked his hand through his hair again and turned away from me, striding out into the night. I waited a few seconds until I knew that he was out of earshot, and then I forced myself to stand and grab my purse from the table at the front door. I didn’t bother locking up; the FBI were watching me, and I didn’t want to have to get up again to let Sean in when he arrived. I forced my fingers to steady and dialed. He picked up after one ring.

“Claudia?” He asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

“Sean,” I said his name like a ragged prayer. “Please come over.”

“What’s wrong, Claudia?” He asked immediately. My mouth opened and closed a few times as I struggled to find words.

“Claudia?” His voice was full of concern.

“Sean, I…” I knew that my voice was high and thin. “I had to… Oh, god, I had to.”

“Claudia, talk to me. You’re scaring me.”

“Just come. Please,” I choked out.

“Claudia!” He said, sounding panicked and a little angry.

But I ended the call. I couldn’t say any more. My stomach was suddenly heaving. I was going to be sick. I ignored the ringing of my phone as I stumbled up the stairs, flinging myself across my bedroom. I barely made it to the toilet in time. I retched violently, my gut clenching painfully as it rebelled against me. I heaved until nothing more was coming up, and then I collapsed on the floor, allowing the coolness of the tiles to sink into my heated skin.

I heard my doorbell ringing insistently, but I didn’t move. I knew that Sean would figure out that it was unlocked and come in. I should have pushed myself up off the floor, but I just couldn’t find the will to do so. My body felt utterly drained, and my mind had shifted into some kind of merciful blankness as exhaustion washed over me.

“Claudia!” Sean’s footsteps were pounding up the stairs. I knew he would find me soon enough, so I just waited, closing my eyes and savoring the utter quiet of my mind.

“Claudia!” His fearful voice echoed in the bathroom. His hands were on me, rolling me onto my back. I groaned softly at the loss of the coolness against my cheek. “Claudia! Fuck!” He shook me hard. “Wake up! Look at me!”

I couldn’t deny his direct order, and my eyes fluttered open. His hands were roving over me. “Where are you hurt?” He hastily pulled out his phone. “I’m calling an ambulance.”