When Fall Fades (The Girl Next Door Series Book 1) (23 page)

Chapter 22

T
he click of the deadbolt jackknifed his pulse. His hand froze on the filmy pair of ice blue panties he’d lifted from the laundry basket. He swore under his breath, watching the enticing scrap of nylon flutter back into the bin at his feet and tucked his body behind a garment bag and into the shadowed corner of her closet.

Unlike his search at the old man’s place, he had to be careful not to disturb anything here. Though part of him was tempted to snatch those panties as a souvenir. Then again, he’d rather have firsthand knowledge of her scent than some unsatisfying memento.

She’d barely been gone an hour after running out the door like her hair was on fire and he’d yet to find any clue to where it was hidden. He had to find it. There was no other option. And there was n
othing
he wouldn’t do to get it.

She knew something. He just
knew
she did. Other than snooping in her drawers and imagining her wearing some of his favorite items, the search had been a bust. Not a single damn thing, and now he was hiding in her freaking closet. He cursed again, feeling his adrenaline surge and his hands shake as the sound of her approach came down the hallway toward the bedroom.

He couldn’t risk taking a peek, but he swore he could smell her the second she entered the room like a blood hound honing in, hunger raging through him with a rabid madness that infected his logic.

Hearing her rummaging around and mumbling to herself, his blood burned hotter imagining what she might be doing. Was she undressing? Getting ready for bed?

His mind raced ahead and filled in the possibilities. Getting caught here had not been the plan for tonight. But maybe, just maybe, this could work to his advantage. The night was young enough, and she was alone. Vulnerable. His for the taking. He could slake his thirst for her, and get the answers he so desperately needed. Her feistiness, he decided, would be fun. At some point she’d probably have to meet her untimely end, but those thoughts were for later. Right now he had a few more pressing matters. He heard the rasp of a zipper.

Oh yeah
. A smile turned his lips. It was going to be a good night.

Chapter 23

Sadie Carson

W
hat would she need? Sadie scurried around aimlessly, pacing like some scatterbrained half-wit who didn’t know the layout of her own room. She went from worried to excited to terrified in the short leap from one neurotic nerve to the next.

“Okay, concentrate.” Taking a deep breath she started grabbing the absolute musts first: toothbrush, toothpaste, cosmetics bag, and underwear. And then she realized as she shoved the items in her bag that she had picked her prettiest matching lingerie set. The barely there triangles of sheer pink lace were completely impractical but sexy enough to give the wearer their own secret thrill. There was absolutely no way Archer would be seeing them, but in the impossible incidence that he might somehow catch a peek of her delicates at least he wouldn’t stumble upon an awkward pair of last-resort granny panties. She winced. Or the cheeky Supergirl briefs she was currently sporting. Classy.

She whipped her Shakira-wild hair into a pony tail and breathed out a nervous laugh at her indiscriminate thoughts before tossing another pretty pair into the bag for no apparent reason. The floor creaked, though not where she was standing. Old building. Shoddy construction. Whatever. She stepped into her closet, shifting to one side to let the bedroom light illuminate the space large enough to need, at the very least, a bulb on a string but hadn’t come with one. Unnecessary home upgrades weren’t so much on her list these days.

Reminding herself that Archer was waiting, she snagged a spaghetti-strap tank top and some sleep shorts. Then a change of comfy clothes. She debated whether or not to grab something a bit nicer from the back for about two seconds before remembering how spectacularly her last attempt to impress him with a more sophisticated look had failed. Victoria’s “see-through” Secret aside, her normal clothes would undoubtedly be a safer bet anyhow.

Less than four minutes later she was zipping up her bag. Not too bad. There was a soft scraping noise in the closet a moment before a jacket slipped from a hanger into a crumpled heap on the floor. She turned to go back but stopped.
Meh
. Wrinkles. Not life or death. Flicking off the light and locking up quickly, she ran out to the car and set their little road trip in motion.

“So, do they know what’s wrong with him? Your dad?” She wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk about it but the doctor—er, nurse part of her brain wanted to know what they were dealing with.

Clearing his throat he seemed to come out of his daze. “Yeah, my mom said something about a virus attacking his heart and, uh, cardiomyopathy. I don’t know what that means.”

“Well, cardiomyopathy is basically a disease of the heart muscle. It could have very easily been brought on by a viral infection. The onset can happen fast and can quickly lead to heart failure.”

He quietly digested the information, when she turned to glance at him his throat worked and he spoke low. “So, there’s nothing they can do.”

His father was a sensitive topic, so she needed to tread cautiously without giving false hope. “I don’t know about your dad’s case specifically, but sometimes pacemakers or defibrillators can make a difference. The only thing more radical would be a transplant.” Forcing down a lump in her throat, she felt overly emotional over a man she didn’t even know. What she did know was the man sitting next to her was still nursing wounds his father had inflicted. 

Archer’s response was silence. She could feel his confliction and his pain like a slowly oozing wound infecting the small space. She may not be an expert on the opposite sex, but she grew up with two brothers and Ryan so she knew guys didn’t like to talk about those things. Didn’t like to show any weakness. Archer was no exception, but she felt she had to press him for a little more.

Please let us get there in time.

“How long has it been?” She asked, her eyes drawn back to him again.

Overwhelming sadness softened his eyes for a split-second before they hardened over. He stared back at the road. “Three years.”

What would that kind of isolation feel like? She’d only gone two days without talking to her mother after her little stunt, and Sadie felt like she was missing an arm. Her heart ached for him, for a way to heal the hurts still cutting him up inside. She reached over and rested her hand on his. Like so many of her efforts, it seemed inadequate but it was all she had.

He turned it over, wove his fingers through hers, and lightly tickled her palm with his thumb.

“You wanna talk about it?”

He stared down at their fingers. “Not right now.”

Probably best, because she could no longer think straight. She tried to force her thoughts from the stirring of molecular energy electrifying her nerves, but it was no use. The way his thumb brushed her skin had her revisiting memories of his callused hands on her face, his palms against her back, his fingers fisted in her hair.

It was all she could do to not pull over and explore those
feelings
some more. It was such a blatantly inappropriate time for them, but her heart was restless nonetheless.

The circumstances certainly were extenuating. Not only was their physical proximity painfully close and would remain so for several hours, but they were headed on this little adventure together. The emotionality of their journey alone tugged at her heartstrings making it a vulnerable target. Add to that, they didn’t know how long they’d be there or where they’d be staying in whatever dinky town in Kansas they were headed.

And then there was the man altogether. His presence like a drug—turning a perfectly rational woman into a nutcase. Her head was spinning on a high of his intoxicating scent, and glittering effervescence tingled through her veins with every stroke of his fingers. Her skin burned in anticipation for more of his touch with an intensity she’d never known.

So this is passion
, she thought.

Good girls weren’t supposed to struggle with this kind of attraction. She’d assumed she’d be able to contain it. Never once imagined she’d feel like this. Enticed and out of control and conflicted with just the touch of a man’s hand.

Yeah
, she
really
hadn’t thought this trip through very well. Her heart was still on bypass. Anesthesia holding the pain at bay until she was strong enough to sew back up and face the music without the world crumbling beneath her feet. Feeling something for Archer served as a brutal reminder that she might never recover enough to give it away again. Short of a transplant, she was as terminal as Roy Hayes.

When they got to a gas station Archer insisted on driving the rest of the way. “I do have one good arm. And I can still use this one—it’s barely even sore.”

“What is it with you men and always needing to drive?” She shook her head teasingly. “It’s not like I’d revoke your man card for riding shotgun even if you hadn’t just taken a bullet to the arm
yesterday
.”

“I’m just that tough, babe. Nothing can slow me down.” He winked with exaggerated arrogance.

She laughed to conceal the slight pinch of his words. And the reminder that no one was invincible. “I’m gonna run in and get something to drink. Want anything?”

“Coffee would be good. Might be a long night.”

“Great minds. Be right back.” She returned a minute later, and they shoved off again in search of Podunk Town, Kansas.

“So you never told me how the meeting went. I haven’t gotten a chance to look over the will. What happened?”

“Well, first off, thanks a million for the warning about John Westwick.” She glared at him, feeling a little sassy. “I was all paranoid and crawly. When Evan’s phone rang I jumped out of my skin like the time my first elderly patient goosed me in what he
claimed
was a moment of senility.”

Archer let out a deep bassline laughter, and Sadie thought she could listen to that sound all day. “Lucky dog.” He teased.

Sadie pretended she hadn’t heard that. “Otherwise it went really amazing, actually. Almost unbelievable.” She filled him in.

“Wow. That’s a game changer. You must be pretty excited.”

“Meh, you know. ’Nother day, ’nother dollar.”

He snorted, shooting her a droll look.

“Okay, fine. I’m slightly ecstatic. It’s not the way I would have wished it, but it’s like a dream. I can’t wait to get started.”

The laugh lines around his mouth smoothed and his face grew pensive. She recognized the moment he slipped into FBI mode.

“What is it?” She asked.

“I was just wondering how recently he added that stuff to his will, and who knew about it.”

“Why? You think someone might have killed him because of it?”

Archer shrugged. “People have killed for less.” Something in his eyes flashed and then they narrowed with surprising scrutiny. Narrowed on her. Each second he hesitated tightened the tension twining into barbs in her chest. “I mean that’s a lot of money to essentially give away. If the other Westwicks knew they might not have been too happy about the charity. Or about
you
being the main beneficiary of his assets. Kind of a surprising turn of events, don’t you think?”

Sadie wanted to bristle at the insinuating edge in his voice. No. She must have misunderstood. He couldn’t possibly suspect her, could he? Is that what all this was about? The flirting, the kissing. Was she really that love-starved she could be so easily duped by a man’s affections?

She looked over and latched onto his gaze. The man had to have a tell. He was in intimidation mode—those FBI eyes were harsh and probing. Almost vicious. She wanted to smack that accusing look right off his face. But then he held her gaze a moment longer and his mask slipped—those traces of accusation were overshadowed by a look of affection so hot and heady it melted away her doubts.

Trying to stay on point, she flashed back to the meeting with the Westwicks, absorbing her observations anew. “I remember Evan seemed genuinely surprised. Well, we all were actually. I don’t know. But wouldn’t killing Charlie just speed up the process of losing a chunk of their inheritance? If someone knew and wasn’t happy about it, why wouldn’t they just try to forge some sort of retraction or claim insanity?”

“Beats me. It’s not like murderers are rational human beings. You were right about one thing though, Sherlock.”

Sadie brightened. “I was?”

“Umm-hmm. The coffee grounds. They were drugged.”

“Great Scott, Watson! Whatever with?” She did her best Holmes impression.

With a slow shake of his head, he tipped his head back and laughed. “You are something else, Sadie Carson.”

“Whatever do you mean?” She smirked, still in character.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Here we are on this crazy, impromptu road trip to see my dying father, and you’ve got me laughing and grinning like a fool.”

“Well, they say laughter is the best medicine.”

“No, Sadie.
You
are.”

Be-still-my-heart
. When he looked at her and smiled like that she’d sound the horn to bring the wall down herself.