I Can See You (52 page)

“He’s teaching now. But before he left, he did a
little confronting of his own, with me. Told me I’d been hiding in the dark.
Gave me hell. And even though Dana and all my other friends and family had told
me the same thing, it meant more coming from him.”

“He’d earned your trust, too.”

“Yeah. He did.”

“So, coming full circle, you trust me even though I’ve
done nothing to earn it. Let me ask you something.” He leaned closer. “What are
you afraid I’ll do to you?”

Her cheeks darkened, causing her scar to appear under
the makeup she so carefully applied. He could tell her the old scar had never
bothered him, even before her surgery, but he knew she’d never believe him. Not
yet.

“Eve?” he prompted when she said nothing. “Are you
worried you’ll lose control with me?” Her eyes flashed and he knew he’d scored
a hit. He didn’t stop, because he knew if he had a prayer of reaching her, it
would have to be now. Once she got away from him, she wasn’t likely to come
back soon. “Are you afraid I’ll make you feel something? That after
six
years
of watching from the sidelines you’ll finally feel something?”

“No,” she snapped. But she didn’t move an inch.

“Then what are you afraid of?”

“That I’ll get dependent on feeling something,” she snarled.
Abruptly she stood, shoving her chair. “It’s better to
choose
to have no
one than to get dependent on someone, only to lose him. That ‘better to have
loved and lost’ shit?
It’s shit
. I can’t go through that. I won’t.”

He leaned back, his heart pounding as he watched her.
“Do you want me, Eve?”

“Yes,” she hissed. “I did the first time you walked up
to the bar. You looked me in the eye and if you knew how rare that was, you’d
know what it meant.”

“And I didn’t make a move for a year,” he murmured. “You
thought I didn’t want you.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered. Knowing you were
interested has been a major ego boost, but it doesn’t change anything.” She
turned away, pretending to check the pizza in the oven, but her hands were
shaking. “It doesn’t make sense to go forward if we want different things. You
had a wife before. I assume you want a wife again. A family.”

“We covered this,” he said patiently. “I told you it
didn’t matter that you can’t have kids. I told you I’d hide the knives if you
walked in your sleep. I’m a really light sleeper,” he said teasingly, then
sobered. “None of that matters, Eve.”

“I don’t believe you. You think it doesn’t matter, but
one day you’d start wondering what it would be like to be a dad.”

“I know what it’s like to be a dad,” he said, more
sharply than he’d intended. “I had a son. He would have been fourteen last
November.”

She went still. “He died in the accident, too?”

“Yes. And losing him and my wife was the hardest thing
I hope I ever go through. You’re right. ‘Loved and lost’ is shit, but I have no
regrets that they were part of my life.” He drew a steadying breath. “I don’t
need more children. If I had a baby, I’d love him, but I’ve done that. I don’t
need to do it again.”

“And I still don’t believe you.” She touched his
sleeve, her fingers trembling. “But I know you believe it.” She pursed her
lips, fighting for composure. “I’m not very hungry. Would you mind taking me to
get David’s truck now?”

He’d promised himself he’d let her go if that’s what
she wanted. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll have a cruiser watch your house tonight,
wherever you stay.” He got an oven mitt and pulled the pizza from the oven,
then stared down at it. “You asked me this morning why I wanted you. I told you
I’d tell you over dinner. Can I at least still do that?”

“Sure.” It was the smallest whisper.

“It was right before Christmas, a year ago. Somebody
was retiring and they had his party at Sal’s. It was the first time I saw you.”

“I remember.”

“You were behind the bar. I remember thinking how
pretty you were. My last relationship had fizzled a natural death, and I hadn’t
met anyone else I liked enough to move my schedule for. I thought maybe I’d say
hello to you, ask you out. Then the door opened and this woman came in. Had the
look of a lifetime drunk. She was dirty and she stank of sour whiskey. Do you
remember her?”

“Yes, I do. A couple of the cops tried to throw her
out.”

“But you wouldn’t let them. You sat her down, gave her
some coffee, and listened while she told you her story. You even cried when she
did.”

“Her son had died. Christmas is a hard time for people
who’ve lost someone.”

“I know. I thought you’d let her finish her story and
maybe hail her a cab. But you kept her talking, asking her questions until you
had enough information to call her surviving son. He came to get her, so
embarrassed, but grateful that you’d cared enough not to push her out onto the
street into the snow.”

“Who would have done that?”

He turned to look at her. “The dozens of bartenders
over the years who did that to my mother. I’d get phone calls— ‘Noah, your
mom’s wandering down the street without a coat.’ I’d rush to get her, and find
some bartender had thrown her out. Called her a bum. I guess she was, but she
was still my mom. You were kind to that woman when you didn’t have to be.”

“I did what anybody should do.”

“But few do. I came back to Sal’s with Jack the next
week, and the week after that. Ordered my tonic water and watched you. As time
passed, I watched you be kind to more people than I can count. You asked me why
I came in and ordered my water all those nights. It was because I couldn’t stay
away. Now I’m kicking myself for waiting so long.” She said nothing and he knew
he had to let it go. For now anyway. “Come on, I’ll get your coat and take you
wherever you want to go.”

He moved toward the door, but she stayed where she
stood, uncertainty playing across her face, and his heart lifted in hope. “Are
we going or staying?” he asked.

“You’ve put me on a pedestal I couldn’t possibly live
up to. If I stayed, if I tried… you’d be disappointed.”

He came back, taking her shoulders in his hands.
“Maybe. But then maybe you’ll be disappointed with me. But how can you know if
you don’t try?” He kissed her hard, relieved when she lifted on her toes,
kissing him back. He broke it off, his breathing unsteady. “Aren’t you tired of
watching other people’s lives go by? I know I am.”

Her pulse was knocking at the hollow of her throat.
“Promise me something.”

“If I can.”

“If you are disappointed, walk away. Don’t stay
because I’ll crumble if you leave.”

He let his forehead rest against hers, his hands
trembling as they kneaded her shoulders. “You worry too much, Eve.”

“I know,” she said. “But then so do you. Can we consider
that common ground?”

He cupped his hands around her face. “I think we can
find better common ground than that.” But he hesitated, unsure of where he
could touch her. “What can I do?”

Her jaws clenched against his palms. “I don’t know.”

Noah felt his spine go rigid. “There hasn’t been
anyone since… ?”

She shrugged. “One. Didn’t go so well.”

He made his mouth curve. “So, no pressure here. I have
an idea. You trust me?”

Her dark eyes had shadowed, fear crowding away all
that beautiful arousal. But despite her fear, she nodded. “Yes. I trust you.”

“Then get your coat and come with me.”

Wednesday, February 24, 7:45 p.m.

One would think people would be more careful about
locking their doors. Especially when they’d just told the police they were the
last people to see a woman just before her murder. But the Bolyards hadn’t been
careful. And now they were dead.

By killing this couple before they could talk to the
police, he’d shown his hand. They’d wonder how the killer had known about the
Bolyards. They’d look internally, thinking they had a leak. They wouldn’t
suspect each other, because that’s not how cops were wired. But it didn’t
matter. He’d managed any potential fallout, cut off any search in his direction
before it started with a single, well-placed phone call.
Because I think.
They just react.

Now the only other threat to his plan, to his
identity, was Eve Wilson. She was smart, and careful. It was time to rattle her
cage harder.

Wednesday, February 24, 7:45 p.m.

Eve found herself laughing when Noah had led her into
his garage, dominated by a rather decrepit Dodge Charger. She’d picked her way
through the parts and now sat in the backseat, watching as Noah struggled to
climb in next to her.

He huffed, his breath hanging in the cold air. “See, I
told you it would be fun.”

“You’re going to need a chiropractor,” she said.

He wedged his big body next to her. “Are you saying
I’m old?”

“No, just big.”

He lifted his brows, his grin wicked. “How would you
know that?”

She shook her head, trying unsuccessfully to hide her
smile. “You’re bad and it’s cold. And this car definitely has seen better days.
It’s not going anywhere.”

“We’re not going to drive it.” He put his arm around
her, his gloved hand patting her shoulder through her heavy coat. “We’re going
to park in it.”

She looked up at him. “You’re insane.”

His grin softened to something so very sweet her heart
turned over. “And you’re smiling. That’s worth a trip to the chiropractor.”

Touched, she looked away. “Is this your car?”

“It is.” He swatted at the vinyl roof that was sagging
into the interior. “I got it a couple of years ago, but I don’t have much time
to work on it.”

“Why this car? It looks worse than my hunk of junk.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. This is a muscle car.”

“Its muscles are atrophied,” she said wryly.

He chuckled. “I drove one just like this one when I
was a kid.” He gave her an arched look. “I got some major action in the
backseat of that car.”

Her breath caught at the implicit promise. “I don’t
think you’ll get much action tonight unless we want to explain frostbite in
embarrassing places to the doctors in the ER.”

“Didn’t you ever park when you were a teenager, oh so
many years ago?” he asked silkily and despite her winter layers and the heat
from his body, she shivered.

“No. None of the boys I knew had cars unless they’d
been stolen.” She rested her head on his shoulder, comfortable and grateful and
anticipating, all at the same time. “So how does it work, this parking thing?”

“It’s pretty straightforward. I try to go as far as I
can and you stop me. Of course the whole frostbite thing is an issue, so mostly
we just neck. Like this.” And he kissed her until her bones felt fluid and her
skin became way too hot under the layers of clothing she wore. Her pulse
throbbed deep, just as it had every time he’d kissed her.

She tugged off one glove so that she could touch his
face, learning every texture, shuddering when he turned his face into her hand
and kissed her palm. He returned to her mouth, layering pleasure on sensation
without demanding anything back and suddenly she wished he would. His gloved
hands were safely anchored, one on her shoulder, the other cradling the back of
her head.

She pulled back, just far enough to see his eyes. They
glittered in the darkness and the leashed desire she saw there stole her
breath. “What do we do next?”

“Nothing you don’t want to do.”

It was her game then, her rules. It was terrifying
even as it exhilarated. “Then try something and let me see if I want to stop you.”

For a moment he remained still, then shifted to the
middle of the seat, pulling her across his lap so that she straddled him. He
looked up as she looked down and his hands stroked down her back, over her
butt, resting on her thighs. His fingers teased, low enough not to panic, but
high enough to make her heart race.

“Your sofa’s a mess,” he whispered, “but your chair
gave me a number of fantasies.”

And that fast she could see them, imagining how his
bare skin would feel against hers. She covered his mouth with hers and pressed
her hips into him, her body jolting with the initial shock of discovery. He’d
said he wanted her. He wasn’t lying.

Her eyes flew open. His face was hard. Hungry. His
body was hard and full and his hips lifted in a rhythm that made her chase his
movements, trying to prolong the contact. “You’re teasing me,” she whispered
against his lips.

His laugh was soft, yet strained. “Is it working?”

“Yes.”

His hands clutched at her thighs, pulling her down and
grinding himself against her, dragging a muted moan from her throat. It felt
good, so good, and she wanted more. Needed more. With shaky hands she tugged at
the zipper on her coat. His hands left her hips, working the zipper on the
fleece she wore beneath. He yanked his gloves off, his eyes never leaving hers
as his warm palms slid up under the sweater she wore to claim her breasts, the
thin cotton of her bra the only thing between them.