Edge of Danger (3 page)

 
“Less dusting. Big screen television. No Curse.”

 
“Enormous incentives, but I’m afraid I must decline yer tempting offer. I made a promise to the lad’s father that I’d keep an eye on him. And here’s where I’m needed.”

 
“Why don’t you hie yourself off to keep an eye on Duncan or Caleb?” Gabriel demanded, making the decision he had to make. He’d try one more time with Dr. Cahill. But he suspected he’d have no chance of breaking through her barriers while she was in Arizona and in her own little safety zone.

 
“While I ponder that intriguing question,” MacBain told him facetiously, “might one inquire as to what yer intentions might be regarding this Dr. Cahill?”

 
His intention was to do what he had to do as fast as humanly possible. And then keep out of Arizona until hell froze over. “I’ll give this one more shot,” Gabriel told Sebastian and MacBain, his tone downright grim. “If that doesn’t work, I’ll bring her here, and
make
it work.” Here on his turf. Where he was strongest.

 
Tremayne raised a brow. “You’ll kidnap her?” Not a question.

 
Still looking at Sebastian, Gabriel tossed his claymore to MacBain who, braced for the weight, deftly caught it. He was damn strong for a wiry old guy. “If I have to.”

 
His friend gave him a mild look. “When are you going?”

 
“Now,” Gabriel said grimly.

 
The air swirled, his image blurred. And he was gone.

 
Sebastian glanced at MacBain. “I freaking
hate
when he does that.”

 
Gabriel’s majordomo cleared his throat. “
Och,
aye. As do I, sir. As do I.”

 
“Damn it to hell. She’s
naked
!”

 
The man’s harsh, disgruntled whisper cut through the blackness of Dr. Eden Cahill’s bedroom. Despite yesterday’s heat still trapped in the room, the voice chilled her to the bone. Her eyes sprang open as her brain leapt from deep sleep to total awareness between one heartbeat and the next.

 
A myoclonic jerk? No. She was sure she’d fallen asleep hours ago. Was it the stifling heat that had woken her? More likely it was her subconscious reliving what was going on in her life.

 
Feigning sleep, she held her breath, waiting. Had she actually heard the voice? Or dreamed it? She strained to listen. She couldn’t hear anyth—No…There was
definitely
someone there. Barely breathing. Certainly not moving. But
there.
Close. She sensed the heat and power of the intruder as he loomed over her bed. The faint scent of his skin—soap—male—seemed to envelop her with a strange yearning she couldn’t begin to decipher.

 
Sharp prickles of fear danced across Eden’s bare skin as her heart raced and her mind went into overdrive. There was unquestionably someone in the room. She could feel his presence. Were there two of them, or had he been talking to himself? Hard as she tried, now all she could hear was the soft hum of the struggling air conditioner in the other room.

 
She realized with surprise that she
was
naked. Normally she
did
sleep this way. But for the last couple of weeks she’d worn pajamas because of the security people in the other room. She frowned. She was positive she’d put on her ladybug jammies before she’d crawled into bed last night…Hadn’t she?

 
Obviously not, since she was bare-butt naked under the sheet.

 
She didn’t waste time wondering how or why, or what he/they were doing in her apartment, or how he’d managed to get through the locks on her doors and windows, and then past several company security guys sitting in her living room just feet beyond the closed and locked bedroom door. She didn’t waste time anticipating what he might do to her, either. With any luck she’d have time to ponder those questions—later.

 
Barely breathing herself, she surreptitiously slid her hand beneath her pillow.
There.
Her fingers closed around the cool butt of a small LadySmith.

 
Why hadn’t her bodyguards stopped him? The chilling answer was: Because they were dead. She clicked off the safety as she said coolly, “I have a gun and it’s pointed at whatever body part is at my eye level. Back off.” She was surprised her voice wasn’t a feeble croak. Not only was she naked, protected by nothing more substantial than a thin sheet, but she was on her back. The only way she’d feel more vulnerable was if he was holding the gun and the lights were on.

 
The image of Dr. Kirchner sprawled on the stark white floor of the lab, the horrifying memory of glistening red blood pooled beneath his head made Eden’s hand steady as a rock.

 
Terrified? Yes.

 
Determined to pull the trigger. Absolutely.

 
Her finger squeezed—

 
“You don’t want to shoot me, Dr. Cahill.” There was something unsettling, something hinting at a different kind of danger beneath the almost casual caution in the man’s voice. The iron fist in a velvet glove method of intimidation.

 
Eden readjusted the short barrel of the gun in his direction without letting up on the trigger. “Don’t bet on it, pal.” Another little squeeze and he’d be dead. “You’re close enough that I can’t possibly miss.”

 
Where the freaking hell
was
he so she could make sure of that? She noticed vaguely that there wasn’t even the faint glow from the red LCD numbers on the bedside clock to help her see where exactly he was. The realization that he’d managed to unplug her clock before she was even aware of his presence creeped her out even more.

 
What else had he had time to do?

 
She wished the light was on—No. She didn’t. Whoever this guy was, he wasn’t going to see her naked before he died. Not if she could help it.

 
She was banking on helping it.

 
For the past couple of weeks, thanks to her boss, and sometimes date, Jason Verdine, she’d had four beefy bodyguards with her at all times. If they hadn’t stopped the man from entering, they were most likely incapable of stopping him from leaving. And the only logical explanation for the intruder to be in her apartment was that he’d killed the guards, just as he’d killed Theo.

 
Now he’s going to kill me.

 
“Step away from the bed. And keep walking. I’ll even give you a head start before I call nine-one-one.”
Not.
He couldn’t know the bedside phone had 911 on speed dial.

 
She who hesitates is lost.
She didn’t wait to see if he started to retreat. Bracing for the loud retort, and the killer’s death scream, Eden pulled the trigger.

 
No big bang. No flash of light.

 
“What happened to my head start?” His voice was dry and very much alive.

 
“I lied.” Eden squeezed off another shot.

 
It didn’t make a freaking sound.

 
Oh shit!
Eden’s heartbeat skittered and jumped. Bad time for the gun to jam.

 
Refusing to panic, she ignored the buzz of terror dulling her hearing. Mentally she choreographed getting out of bed, picking up the bedside lamp—the only thing close to hand that could be used as a weapon—and hitting him. All before he killed her.

 
She didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of pulling that off. He was too close.

 
“This is a dream, Dr. Cahill,” he said gently into the thick darkness, his husky voice almost hypnotic.

 
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. How lame is that?!” she said indignantly, struggling up on one elbow while trying to hold the malfunctioning gun steady and anchor the edge of the sheet over her chest at the same time.
Come closer, asshole. I’ll beat you bloody with this useless damn gun.

 
It wouldn’t kill him, but it might give her enough time to get away. “Look,” she told him reasonably. “I have nothing but a few bits of costume jewelry.”
And if you’ve come for anything else, you won’t find it in a drawer.

 
As she talked she shifted the gun so she could use the barrel as a handle and hit him with the wooden grip. “Take what you want and get o—Oh.” A brush of air, barely felt, and the small gun vanished from her hand. Just like that.

 
Poof. Gone.

 
Cocking her head—
damn it, where
was
he?
—she scowled. Smoke and mirrors. “Who are you? What do you want?”

 
It was unnerving having a stranger in her bedroom in the pitch dark. Hell, he’d probably scare the hell out of her in broad daylight too. “Are you alone?”

 
There was a thoughtful silence before he answered the last question. “Why?”

 
“I heard you talking to someone when I—woke up.” Nightmare or fact, Eden considered how to get out of the room and make it to the front door without being killed in the process. If the guy had come in that way, he’d probably left the door unlocked. Her tattooed and pierced neighbor was a big guy with chronic insomnia. If she could just make it out into the hallway…

 
The head of her bed was closest to the door. Lie here and die, or die trying. She voted for trying. She slid her right leg carefully, inch by inch, across the cool, smooth sheet.

 
She felt odd. Breathless and tingly. Fear, of course.

 
“I’m alone.”

 
Eden brought her left leg slowly across the mattress. Too damn slowly. At this rate she’d still be slithering across the sheets come December, for God’s sake.

 
She inched her bare bottom across the sheet that no longer felt cool. The fabric seemed to caress her naked skin, and she stopped moving, puzzled by the odd manifestation of sexual heat her body was experiencing. Fear-induced lust? Nonsense.

 
Fear frequently masquerades as another emotion, she told herself firmly. She wasn’t experiencing lust, she was experiencing justifiable fear.

 
She moved another inch. “Where are the security guys? Did you kill them?”

 
“
Jesu
—No, I didn’t. Lie back and relax.”

 
Relax?! As if.
From the sound of his voice he was no longer standing beside the bed, but she still wasn’t sure where he was in the room. His voice came from farther away, although she hadn’t heard him walking across the hardwood floor.