Authors: Christine Feehan
Water Bound (19 page)
Lev shook his head. “You’re incredible, you know that?
Don’t bodyguards have to shoot people occasionally?
Who thinks like that? Let me stay with you, Rikki.”
Don’t bodyguards have to shoot people occasionally?
Who thinks like that? Let me stay with you, Rikki.”
She wasn’t going to kick him out. She’d found him in the sea and she was bound to him. She’d taken him on board her boat and that made her responsible for him. Besides . . . She pressed her fingers to her temples. She’d gone to sleep with him beside her. She’d never even done that with Daniel. She couldn’t just abandon him, not when Blythe and the others had given her a chance, not when he’d given her a gift so precious as to know that once—
once—
in her life, she’d been normal enough to sleep beside another human being, which was the only reason she’d continued to sleep on the bed. Not because she wanted to be with him.
once—
in her life, she’d been normal enough to sleep beside another human being, which was the only reason she’d continued to sleep on the bed. Not because she wanted to be with him.
“I don’t know what I’ll do with you. And you can’t touch my things.”
“I’ll do the cooking,” he volunteered immediately.
She didn’t eat anything but peanut butter—not unless Blythe made her go to her house for dinner. Then she forced herself to do it so she didn’t hurt Blythe’s feelings. His slight grin made her heart turn over. Sheesh, she hated the effect he had on her.
“Do you want to go shopping now? Before breakfast? Inez’s market is open.”
Instantly his expression went blank. For a moment he looked a little scary, his blue eyes diamond hard. “It would probably be best if no one sees me for a while. We don’t want any questions.”
She didn’t like questions either and she sure wasn’t going to answer any of them. She glanced at the clock. It was still very early. She might get there while the store was empty. “Make a list then.” It took seconds to go to the drawer where notepads and pens were neatly stacked. She handed him both.
He immediately began scribbling. Twice he opened her fridge, frowned at the milk and broccoli, and wrote more. The cupboards contained jars of both smooth and chunky peanut butter. “I can see you’re into variety.”
She put on her darkest scowl. “Blythe can lecture me about my eating habits; you can’t.”
He put down the pen. “I suppose that’s fair. I’m not going to be a burden to you financially. Things are coming back to me and I must have money somewhere. Sooner or later I’ll have access to it and I’ll pay you back. And I can work for you. You need a tender.”
Her scowl deepened. “You stay the hell off my boat.”
His grin widened. She supposed he had reason to look a little cocky. He had the perfect place to hide out. She was so antisocial no one but her family came to visit her, and most of the time she went to their houses. His contact with outsiders would be minimal.
We’ll see about that.
Her gaze jumped to his and the breath left her body in a foolish rush. That intimate voice stroked every nerve ending. Her mouth went dry. They’d never discussed their strange conversation or her near fall in the pond. She found ignoring subjects she didn’t want to discuss was usually the best way to go, but he didn’t seem to realize he wasn’t allowed in her head.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Give me your list, and I’ll go into town and get the supplies.” She wasn’t arguing with him over the boat—or telepathy. She was the captain. Out at sea, no one questioned her authority.
His fingers brushed hers when he transferred the paper to her. She felt a jolt through her entire system. Everything seemed so out of focus. She didn’t like anyone touching her, yet when this man did, she didn’t feel thousands of pinpricks as she normally did. The pressure of her wet suit helped to combat the way her body felt as if it were flying apart. She had a weighted lap blanket she used for the same purpose, but she had neither item to help her now. She just stood there looking at him a little helplessly, trying to figure out how to think or feel in such an unfamiliar situation.
“It will be all right,” he murmured softly, and his fingers stroked over her face, tracing her bones.
She sucked in her breath, shocked that she could stand there, trembling, feeling nervous flutters instead of pinpricks and pain. She shook her head, trying to throw off the spell he seemed to weave around her.
“Only my sisters ever come here, and they won’t with my truck gone. Just keep the doors locked and the shades pulled down. I doubt you’ll be disturbed.” She turned back to him.
“Don’t
kill anyone while I’m gone. They might be important to me.”
“Don’t
kill anyone while I’m gone. They might be important to me.”
Rikki started out the door, but Lev caught her arm.
“You won’t say anything about me?”
She scowled. “I dragged your ass out of the sea, cleaned you up and gave you a place to stay. Who the hell am I going to tell?”
He shrugged. “It just matters.”
“You’re dead. Stay that way until I get back.” She shoved her dark glasses onto her nose and marched out, indignant that he thought she was too stupid to keep quiet.
Muttering to herself, she started toward her truck, but she couldn’t quite force herself from her normal routine. She cast a surreptitious glance toward the window, but even if he was watching, did it matter? This was her home—her life—she wasn’t going to change because she’d hauled some man out of the sea. And he was just as strange in his own way as she was. He was definitely secretive, everything he owned seemed to be a weapon, and his first reaction was usually violence. Yeah, she was
not
going to apologize for who she was.
not
going to apologize for who she was.
She circled the house, checking each window, making certain her silk threads were intact. If anyone tried to lift the windows, they wouldn’t notice the small thread fluttering to the ground. She examined the flower beds she’d planted beneath the windows. The dirt was soft and damp and would reveal any prints. She checked her hoses, rolled perfectly around the hose reels on each side of the house. She was very fussy about the hoses. They had to be able to be pulled off fast with no kinks in case of an emergency.
When she walked around to the front of her house, Lev stood there watching her. She sent him a dark frown. “What?”
“You don’t have to worry with me here.”
She tilted her chin. Usually she didn’t bother with explanations, and she wasn’t going to tell him. Let him find out she had a routine—a ritual—she couldn’t go anywhere without performing first. She had a lot of those. He could leave if her ways bothered him. She climbed into the truck and slammed the door without answering him. She did look back in the rearview mirror and felt sad for him. He looked very alone.
She drove along the winding tree-lined road that lead to the coastal highway, and she felt immediate relief. She hadn’t spent this much time with another human being since she had been a teenager, and it was stressful. She tried not to stare—looking through him or into him instead—or to get caught up in the small observations that she tended to fixate on. It was darned stressful just to be with people.
Once she’d turned onto Highway 1, she could see the ocean. The sea soothed her, no matter what mood it was in. The expanse of water always helped her to stay centered enough to deal with going into a public place. It was early enough that few people would be out, but Inez’s store was a local hangout. People tended to gather there and exchange news—and Inez knew just about everything there was to know about everyone.
Rikki parked the truck at the far end of the lot and got out slowly, taking a careful look around. Thankfully, the reporters and investigators—whatever they were—hadn’t gotten up as early as she had. She had the village nearly to herself. The morning air was crisp and a wind blew in from the sea, carrying the feel of salty mist. She could hear the water breaking against the cliffs as she walked across the lot to the sidewalk where she took another long look around. Her blood moved with the same rush in her veins as the waves, and she stood at the top of the hill, just in front of the store, looking down the street to the powerful display the ocean was putting on.
Sea Haven’s main street ran right along the actual coast, separated from the water only by the bluffs. She could be in the town because from just about anywhere she shopped, she could see and hear the ocean. Right now whitecaps danced over the surface and spray blasted up the rocks. The sight was breathtaking.
There was no one out but old Bill. His blanket wrapped around him, he huddled in the small area between the grocery store and the kaleidoscope shop Rikki’s sister Judith owned. She lifted a hand toward him. Like her, he was different. He muttered to himself and made a living from the cans people left for him, and he often rode around on his prized possession, the old bike that was propped against the wall of the store—it was his only method of transportation other than his feet. His clothes were old and dirty, and the soles of his boots worn. She made a mental note to remind Blythe that they were going to find him a comfortable pair of boots for the winter.
As she pushed open the door, there was an all-too-familiar tightening in her stomach. At once the walls closed in and she felt like she was choking. Ordinarily she could grab jars of peanut butter and get out, but the list required actual walking up and down the aisles. When she stepped inside, the fluorescent lights seemed to flicker like a strobe. Flashes went off behind her eyes. Her stomach lurched, and even with the dark glasses, she threw her arm across her eyes to protect them and backed out of the store, shaken.
Rikki bit her lip hard and looked toward the sea, trying to breathe in the salt air. It had definitely been too long. She actually felt a little dizzy and it was hard to catch her breath. The store wasn’t crowded or noisy, two things she avoided at all costs, so she just had to get past the lights and force herself to go up and down the aisles. Everyone did it. The peanut butter was stocked on the outer shelf and she could just grab it and go, but . . .
She squared her shoulders. People did this every single day. She was a grown woman, the captain of her own boat—there was nothing she couldn’t do. She pushed open the door a second time and walked in. Inez Nelson, a fragile-looking woman with graying hair and a slender body stood at the counter, looking up with a friendly smile.
“Rikki. You’re always up early,” she greeted. “How are you? How are your sisters?”
Rikki nodded to her, ignoring the questions. She moistened her lips, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. She could do this, walk into the space between the aisles. Her feet didn’t move. She just stood there, frozen, with the lights fluttering, pushing sharp little darts into her brain. Her stomach lurched, and she turned and went back outside where she could breathe.
“Damn it.” She was used to being different, but when it interfered with her ability to do everyday chores, it made her angry. She was used to the lights in stores actually hurting her, where she could tell others didn’t have the same problems. Noises were the worst, and textures, especially in her mouth, were brutal on her. The taste of silver or plastic just couldn’t be tolerated. Certain fabrics hurt her skin. She knew others weren’t like her, but for the most part, she’d learned to cope. But this shopping thing was a nightmare. The hum of the lights reverberated through her head until she wanted to scream.
What was she going to do? Ask Blythe? One of the others? They’d want to know why she wanted food she’d never eat. She chewed on her thumbnail and glared at the store. A person could do anything for a short period of time. She had to be able to go into a grocery store, and if she didn’t hurry, more people would come and then it would be impossible.
Squaring her shoulders, she went back inside, and this time she managed to make it to the actual entrance to the aisle before she stopped, dizzy and sick. She couldn’t enter that small space where the lights pushed needles into her brain that exploded like firebombs behind her eyes. She shook her head, near tears. Anger welled up like a tidal wave, black and ugly—it was a force she often had to fight when she became frustrated.
“Rikki.”
Inez’s voice was brisk, matter-of-fact, never that pity sound she detested. Rikki turned around to face her, knowing she had to leave the store again and fighting her blurred vision.
“Give me your list. I’ll get your things and you can stand over by the window.” Inez held out her hand.
Was it defeat? Or victory? Rikki didn’t know, but she had no choice. She handed the list to Inez, grateful she seemed to understand the problem.
“You weren’t at the wedding,” Inez said, all chatty.
Rikki grit her teeth. Did one answer a statement? She made a sound in the back of her throat, the only acknowledgment she could think to make. The timbre of Inez’s voice took a background to the hum of the fluorescent lights. The lights were like a strobe now, continually flickering. The needles stabbing through her skull became ice picks.
“The girls looked lovely,” Inez added. “Everyone had such a good time. We missed you though. Elle made a stunning bride. And Jackson was so handsome.”
She sounded proud of Jackson, almost as if he were her son. What did Rikki know of Inez, anyway? Other than she knew everything about everyone, so Rikki made certain to avoid her whenever possible. Jackson was a deputy, and as far as Rikki was concerned, that put him right up there with the officials who had relegated her to the state home and accused her of starting fires and killing the people she loved.
“Frank and I danced the night away.”
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