Defeat the Darkness (Hearts of Darkness) (15 page)

Chapter 18 Return

Guatemala to NOLA

The bug bites on Shelby’s arms attested to the ineffectiveness of DEET and long sleeves against ravenous Guatemalan mosquitoes. They were the result of the early morning boat trip to the next village, followed by a two-hour bus trip. Open windows. Naturally, no AC. Humidity over ninety-nine percent all the way to the closest city with an airstrip. That’s where Max had arranged for her to board the private plane for the return trip.

She’d had exactly twenty minutes to wash up, before she boarded and they took off. After peering into the aged mirror and shocked by her appearance, she knew she’d need every one of those minutes to get close to resembling a human.

Her eyes were so swollen from the drugs and crying, she could barely see out of them, and they felt like she’d taken a few punches. As usual, her hair was wild, but her brush was in the bag the porter already loaded. Finger combing it did little to improve it. She looked so scary it was a wonder people hadn’t avoided her on the bus. Then she remembered the lady with the chicken had moved to the back.

Great. She even scared chicken toting passengers.

The hangover from the drug the bitch used on her pounded through her skull in spite of the pain meds she’d taken.

God help that woman, if she ever saw her again… Shelby worried her lower lip. A person sworn to heal shouldn’t be as capable of killing as she felt when she thought about Amyra.

The small plane was due to land at a private airport outside New Orleans in the late afternoon.

The single flight attendant on the four-seater must have thought she was a mess, in mourning or something, because she hovered over her the entire trip, using a sympathetic tone when she addressed Shelby. Thank God, because the pain in her head couldn’t take much more.

The woman brought her a cool cloth for her swollen eyes, and it also helped the headache. Somewhat. When Shelby asked, the angel of mercy also found calamine lotion packets in a first aid kit for her bites, and topped off the flight with a sparkling wine.

Shelby would have hugged the woman if she’d been wearing clean enough clothes.

Shortly before the plane landed, Shelby felt capable of cleaning up in the miniscule bathroom. And by the time they were ready to land, she was feeling better—not quite human, but almost. The headache behind her eyes turned into mild pressure, and the makeup the flight attendant loaned her hid some of her flaws. All she could expect to achieve was
presentable.
Her hair was still a rat’s nest. She’d misplaced her rubber bands and all the shorthaired flight attendant had was a brush, so all Shelby could do was brush it and hope for the best.

The touchdown onto US soil was smooth. Shelby waited for the plane to roll to a stop then stood, gathered her belongings, and smiled when flight attendant wished her a nice stay. The woman steadied her when she wobbled a bit on the way down the steps.

Shelby squinted at the brightness of the sun, noted the small building ahead of her, and hurried inside.

When the custom’s officer finally waved her through, she found Max waiting outside the secured area. One look told her everything she needed to know. He met her tear-swollen eyes with cold steel gray ones and then shifted his gaze over every inch of her, looking possessive and angry.

Shelby would have to hold off his questions. It wouldn’t take him a minute to figure out what was wrong. Maybe he’d let her get away without rehashing the details for now, but not for long. He’d be his normal tactful and patient self, but his curiosity was what drove him professionally and personally. He’d eventually drag the gory details from her, take the anger she saw simmering behind his eyes, and threaten to kill Kyle.

She smiled. It was nice to have an advocate, a hero who was ready to fight for her honor even if it wouldn’t amount to much. Nothing could help her crushed heart.

The tears choked her and burned the back of her throat. When she passed through the turnstile, Max scooped her into his arms, moving her off to the side of the small room for privacy. The moment she buried herself in his comfortable scent, she couldn’t hold back the tears.

“You’re crying?” Surprise tinged his words. Max spit out a few choice curses and growled beneath his breath.

He was wide and tall, so his embrace engulfed all of her as if he could visibly protect her from the outside world. His voice was low and tense when he muttered, “Shit, Shelby. Am I gonna’ have to kill someone?”

Crying wasn’t the greeting she intended to give him. In fact, it pissed her off. Max, of all people, knew how bad things were to bring her to this low.

She hiccupped and more sobs wracked her body as she blubbered all over his chest like the heartbroken fool she was. So much for her makeup.

“Remember when you broke your leg falling out of the peach tree?”

“What?”

“You didn’t cry then. Even when they set it.”

She nodded against his chest. He’d felt guilty when she’d fallen after one of his challenges. At the time, they’d been young teens.

“For the longest time I didn’t think you ever cried.”

He was right, she never cried in front of anyone. Hell, she hardly ever cried.
If you do, you let everyone know how to hurt you.

This was more than she could stand. “Sorry, can’t seem to stop.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.” Max’s voice was tough with emotion.

While she unburdened herself, he murmured and stroked her back. The words were nothing she could understand, but his touch and his tone were consoling. And suddenly she realized more than anyone, she trusted Max with her feelings. Without lifting her face from his chest, she risked sharing a secret she’d kept since the night it happened.

“I cried when I found out you were sleeping with Amelia Devereaux.”

“You’re telling me this now?” Max rolled his eyes to heaven and groaned. “I thought we put that all behind us? You have no idea how bad I feel knowing I hurt you enough to make you cry.”

Yes, she did know. It hadn’t been his fault. At the time, they were in a “friend” stage and he hadn’t realized how deeply she felt for him.

As he held her without words of admonition, not moving or saying anything, just being, she suddenly realized Max was everything she needed. That was the very reason she should be cautious with him now. Even though she still had deep feelings for him, maybe especially because of those feelings, she shouldn’t depend on him. She couldn’t risk playing with his emotions when she knew how he felt about her.

And then she sobbed again, remembering how she gave Max up when he’d asked for a second chance. She’d been the one who turned away from their relationship even before she met Kyle. Nevertheless, she knew Max’s feeling for her changed, deepened when she joined him at Tulane. He wanted commitment when it was too late. She was already infatuated with his friend and afraid of her feelings. Instead, she ignored Max’s claims of forever—once bitten and all—then pursued her own needs. Kyle changed everything.

She’d chosen Max’s best friend, and here she was. The man tossed her aside for some dark bitch in a jungle over a thousand miles away. How could she have been such a poor judge of character? Anger roiled inside her. How had Kyle fooled her for so long? She sniffled.

“You ready to get out of here?” Max’s voice sounded as angry as she felt.

When she looked at him, his snarl matched his expression. His body was hard and tense as she moved back a small distance to get a better look at him. Shelby nodded and sniffled, wiping her face with the back of her hand. He, being Max, handed her a handkerchief and picked up her bag.

A friggin’ cloth handkerchief? Embroidered initials and all.
The gesture made her smile and want to cry all over again.
Some things never changed.
Thank God.

Without thinking, she followed his lead as he moved her forward. Placing his big hand on the small of her back, she blew her nose and wiped her face while he escorted her from the building.

The hot humid air slapped at her face, reminding her of the jungle she’d just escaped. For a moment she tensed. Then she smelled Max’s familiar scent behind her and exhaled slowly.

Good southern gent that he was, he held the car door for her, fastened her seatbelt, and tossed her bag into the backseat. She relaxed into the passenger seat of his Lexus as he turned the key. The AC blasted ice-cold air and he had the radio tuned to a ballgame. Everything seemed so normal she could almost believe the last two days had been a bad nightmare, especially when she thought about the fangs and the blood.

“You mind?” Max asked. “I was listening to the Braves on my way over here.”

“No, of course not. What’s the score and who’re they playing?”

“Yankees and they were up two when I got here.”

Good, she could relax. No sappy, “someone done somebody wrong” songs to wrench her broken heart.

She closed her eyes, and let Max take care of her. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

“No thanks necessary between us, sweetheart.”

Shelby choked back the tightness in her throat and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 19 Home

Max’s apartment late that day

Shelby rubbed her eyes. The movement of the car coming to a stop woke her out of a thankfully dreamless sleep.

She glanced at Max, and tried to remember where she was. When the memories came flooding back she shut them down. The visions kept flashing through her mind when she was awake and could rationalize them away, did she dare face them asleep?

Outside the window, the familiar streetlights on old-fashioned lampposts looked familiar, but there were no street signs. “Where are we?”

“My place.” Max glanced at her and turned the corner onto the street where he lived. “I didn’t think you’d want to go home yet.”

“Right. Good thinking.” Her Max, always one step ahead. The man was sensitive even if he hid it well. She hadn’t thought any of this through, but he’d realized there were too many memories and too much of Kyle back at her place. She’d have to deal with it all soon enough.

What would she do with his stuff?

Nothing. Not now.
She refused to think about…She wouldn’t even think his name.

“I’ve got food…and wine.”

Her stomach clenched at the mention of food. Waves of perspiration washed over her. Nausea. She wasn’t sure if it was from revulsion over her memories or hunger, but she’d have to eat sometime.

“Perfect.” The thought of the wine made her smile. At least it would relax her, and enough would ensure a dreamless sleep. “Sounds like what I need. By the way, what was the final score?”

“Score? Oh.” He grinned broadly with the familiar twinkle in his eyes. “Braves won 4-2 in the ninth inning.”

“Good.” She hazarded her own weak smile and meant it.

He pressed the remote to open the garage as they pulled into his driveway and parked. After the garage door closed behind them, he turned off the engine and, with his arm on the back of her seat, turned to her.

“Shelby?” He started to ask a question.

She shook her head. She wasn’t ready to answer.

“Max, you know what I’m in the mood for? Beignets and chocolate accompanied by a rich, dark red wine. Maybe we should go—”

“That’s my girl.” Max flashed that smile again, reached around to the backseat, and held up a bag from Du Monde. He dangled it in front of her nose and the smell of sugar filled the air. “I stopped on the way. You snored right through the French Quarter.”

“I do not snore.”

“Do I know you or don’t I, Shelby Mackenzie?”

She snatched the bag and high-fived his empty hand. “Oh, Max, you are my hero!” She ran into his house, shouting back over her shoulder, “Will you bring in my bag? I’m going to take a quick shower while you open the wine. See you in ten.”

Max followed her inside, heading straight to the kitchen. He popped the cork on their favorite Cabernet and put the bottle in the ice bucket. The emptiness in her eyes made his chest ache.

“Damn you, Kyle Lachlan,” he cursed.
What did you do my Shelby?

His first impulse, after Shelby called him for help, had been to find painful ways to dissect the man who’d been his best friend for over four years. Later that same day, when Kyle called him from the communications tent to ensure he was making arrangements for her, Max got the opportunity he wanted to curse him out. He asked him directly about what happened and went a little crazy when Kyle told him about the other woman.

What had he been thinking?

When Max took the opportunity to voice his internal threats aloud, Kyle didn’t even try to defend himself—didn’t deny his duplicity or attempt to explain his actions, either.

The wine glass Max held shattered against the counter when he slammed it down with a little too much force. As he picked up the broken pieces and dropped them into the garbage, he thought about the short conversation they’d had.

Kyle had admitted what happened, claimed he’d gotten drunk and woken up in the tent they shared with another woman in his bed. Shelby was gone. Max hadn’t believed him at first. He couldn’t imagine Kyle with anyone besides Shelby. When he thought about her dealing with that scene, he’d wanted to climb through the phone and wring his friend’s neck. There hadn’t been time to discuss details, but when she arrived, the ring wasn’t on her finger, the light was gone from her eyes, and
...she’d fuckin’ sobbed!

What the hell could have happened to change Kyle so drastically in a few months? The Kyle he knew would never cheat. From her reaction, it was obvious Shelby had seen him with the other woman.

Damn him.

Kyle broke Shelby’s spirit and Max was going to make him answer for that someday. Every time he thought about Shelby’s swollen eyes and tear streaked face, he vowed someone would pay dearly for her pain.

Pain?

When he glanced down, he noticed blood smeared all over the counter. A few drops fell and pooled around the bottle. He hadn’t even realized he’d cut himself, and the cut was pretty deep. It needed cleaning and a bandage. The anger over the situation dulled his feelings to everything but consoling Shelby.

He ran the faucet and cleaned up the counter while he applied pressure to the wound. Paper towels or the dish rag?

He sniffed the rag. “Paper towels it is.”

Looking through drawers for a Band-Aid, he cursed when he found one empty wrapper and nothing more. The rest were in the first aid kit in the spare bathroom.

The shower was still running.

The gash was slowly bleeding, just enough to be annoying, not enough to need stitches. He applied more pressure, trying to pour wine and elevate the hand at the same time.

Not bad.
He smiled. He’d managed to clean up and fill two glasses without incident. After checking his hand again, he found it was still steadily bleeding.

He paused outside the bathroom door and decided to knock. No answer. Maybe he could slip into the bathroom and get the first aid kit without disturbing her. He twisted the doorknob and opened it. The steam turned the air in the room into a foggy haze. The shower continued to run hot while Max quietly opened the cabinet. He reached in and pulled out the first aid kit just as Shelby gasped.

He jumped and banged his head on the cabinet door. The first aid kit hit the floor and when he looked up, holding his hand and rubbing his head with his wrist, the shower enclosure was open. Shelby was naked clutching a small bath towel in front of her. The rest of his blood pooled in his groin and forced him to sink down to sit on the closed toilet seat.

The towel didn’t conceal the curve of her hips or the long lines of her legs. Max remembered too well the feel of her satin soft skin and the way she screamed when she climaxed.

“What did you do?” Shelby wrapped the towel around her and for a brief moment flashed Max the full-Monty before she dropped to her knees in front of him, concern etched on her face. “You’re bleeding.”

Max was busy rubbing his head while his other hand bled onto the floor. “It’s nothing. I broke a glass and cut myself. The thing won’t stop bleeding, and I thought—”

“Band-Aid?” She glanced at the one in his hand. “You need a butterfly to close it. It’s deep and in a bad spot. Here, let me.”

She picked up the contents of the kit that had scattered and put them on the counter. While he inhaled her flowery scent, visualized her skin beneath the towel, and imagined licking off the rivulets of water dripping down her chest, she practiced what she did best. Doctoring.

“How’s your head?” she asked with an amused grin on her face.

“Uh, fine. You know it’s hard.”

“That I do.”

She moved his hand to examine his head.

“Oww!”

“Baby.” She rubbed it with her hand the way a mother rubs out pain. “Got a little knot. Nothing for a hard headed guy like you.”

Yeah it hurt, but having her caring hands on him, soothed him. When the kit clicked shut, he said, “Now it’s my turn.”

“For what?” Shelby’s eyes opened wide.

He ran his fingers over her welts. She shivered under his touch.

“Mosquito bites. You have a million of them.”

He opened another cabinet, rummaged around until he found the calamine lotion, and held it up to show her. “Ah, here it is. Calamine lotion.”

She gave him a half grin. “You have no idea how much I appreciate it. They’re driving me nuts. The flight attendant had some on the plane but I used it all.”

“Come on. Lie down on the bed and I’ll do your back, then you can finish up, get dressed, and meet me in the kitchen. Your bag is in the hallway when you’re ready.”

Shelby sat down on the bed and rolled to her belly. “Mmm, just what the doctor ordered.”

Max wondered why he offered to do this. What kind of masochist was he? Touching her was pure torture. He hadn’t even put his hands on her yet and his body was straining behind his jeans. He pulled his shirt out before he sat down and started at her neck. By the time he reached her towel, he knew he’d have to remove it to reach some of her worst bites. Sweat beaded on his upper lip.

“These are bad, Shelby. Didn’t you use any insect repellant?”

“Believe it or not—repeatedly. And I had on long sleeves and full length pants.”

“The little buggers must have been ravenous. I think you’re going to have to take an antihistamine. Some of these are swollen and inflamed. Wait here. I’ll get you one and a glass of water.”

When he returned, she mumbled with her face in the pillow, “Probably some sort of fly bite. God knows, I’ve never seen so many bugs.”

“Take this and then I’ll finish the backside of you.”

“You know it would be easier if I just took off the towel. It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

Max swallowed hard. “Sure. If you’re okay with it. After all, we are both doctors.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her and made her laugh.

“Don’t think the ‘playing doctor’ routine will work on me. I’ve heard you use it on all those Barbie’s and Bambi’s I’ve seen you with over the last few years.”

He coughed, cleared his voice, and tried to sound serious, but it was difficult holding back the laugh. “You know, I don’t believe I’ve ever dated anyone by either of those names.”

“You get names?” Her eyes opened wide with feigned surprise.

She always could go head to head with him and now was no different. Shit, she never missed a thing. He forced back the laugh and gave her a heavy shrug.

“Ha! You run through them so fast I’m surprised you remember one buxom, leggy model from another.” She needled him, goading him to react.” Is it hard to tell all that beauty apart?”

Max did laugh then. “You’re bad. You know I don’t have time to develop a relationship with my work.”

“We all say that, and we all still manage to find time to screw up our lives.” Shelby pulled the towel off and resumed the position while he tried not to swallow his tongue.

God, he remembered how it felt to kiss her ass. How she liked him to take her from behind. When she wiggled into place, he
dragged his fingers over her hips before he realized he didn’t have any calamine lotion on them.

“You’re killing me here,” he said and slapped her backside to cover up his mistake. “Stay still.” He finished and tapped her thigh lightly. “My work here is done. The rest are all yours. I’m going to fix us something to eat. Join me when you’re ready.” Max stood up and left before she rolled over.

There’d been a time when they had been good for each other. Would he be enough for her now? Could he be what she needed again? And what did she need? Time? Space? Nurturing?

He couldn’t stand the thought of her hurting, being in pain because of Kyle’s stupidity. Thankfully, at least he was around to pick up the pieces. If she gave him a second chance, he’d try to put those pieces back together.