Cavanaugh Justice: Alone In The Dark Part 15

"Finished?" he asked impatiently.

"Almost. You've got a nasty cut right above your eyebrow. I'm going to have to st.i.tch that up."

He looked at her dubiously. Left on his own, he would have just washed the wound and left it alone. "Are you qualified to do that?"

She went to get a new suturing tray. "Yes, I'm qualified to do that."

He shifted, uncomfortable. He didn't like being fussed over. "I won't start having cravings for dog biscuits after you finish, will I?"

"No." She brought the tray over to the table. "But you might have this urge to bay at a full moon every once in a while."

He thought of the way he'd felt, making love with her. "I had that urge the other night."

Patience took the cellophane off the tray, aware that he was watching her every move. She tossed the cellophane into the wastepaper basket. "Then this shouldn't be a problem for you."

No, he thought, but being so close to her was. Because, despite the aches that began to take hold of him, he could feel himself responding to her. Could feel himself wanting her. This was far too intimate a setting for them to be alone together.

He watched her thread a needle. "You don't have to do this."

The look she gave him told him to stop arguing with her. "Yes, I do."

Brady began to slide off the table. "I could go to a hospital."

She put her hand in the middle of his chest and pushed. She was surprisingly strong for such a little thing. "But you won't."

He knew he could easily overpower her. All he had to do was to get off the table and just keep walking. But he wanted to remain near King. And to do that, he had to let Patience do what she wanted to.

Brady frowned. "I don't think I like having you be able to read me so well."

She looked at him and said, "Tough," before she went back to work.

The single word echoed, inching its way along a wireless path out into the night. Taken there by the electronic devices that had been covertly placed throughout the clinic and her house. The devices she knew nothing about.

The devices her stalker had planted.

Chapter 13.

Brady sat amazingly still as she sutured the gash on his forehead. Not a muscle moved when she pushed the needle through his skin. Each time she took another st.i.tch she could almost feel the needle breaking the surface. Yet he gave no indication that he felt anything at all. Maybe he was channeling his pain, she mused.

"There," she announced, completing the last st.i.tch. "Done. You're free to go."

About to put on his shirt, he glanced at the shredded garment then left it where it was. Between the pit bull's attack and Patience's pa.s.s with her scissors, there was no saving the shirt. He reached for his jacket instead, then looked over toward where his dog was sleeping on the pallet on the floor. "How long is he going to be like that?"

Patience glanced at her watch, gauging the amount of anesthetic she'd given the animal. "King should be waking up in a few hours. There's nothing more you can do for him right now, so if you want to go home-"

"I don't want to go home."

He was looking at her, not King, when he said it. She felt her flesh warming. It took her a minute to find her tongue. With effort, she picked up the tray she'd just used and set aside the instruments.

"I've got a spare bed in the guest room I can make up for you upstairs."

"I don't want to be in the guest room."

Very slowly, she turned around to gaze at him. All her pulses were suddenly awake and active. Her antic.i.p.ation was at a heightened level. "Then what is it you do want?"

He touched her face and felt that same longing spring up within him he'd felt before. The longing that only seemed to be a.s.sociated with her. The longing he'd never felt before.

"You."

"I see."

It was as if everything inside her had been holding its breath. And now she felt herself melting. Logic tried desperately to break through the barriers she'd set up. She was getting in too deep and the deeper she went, the less chance she had of coming back out again. At least, not whole.

But logic stood very little chance of succeeding tonight. It found itself pitted against a very particular reality. She could have easily lost Brady today. Lost him to a bullet or a pit bull or G.o.d only knew what else. Lost him to all the pitfalls that were out there, waiting to take out a man who wore a badge and strapped on a gun each morning. But she realized that rather than run from what she found here, in his arms, she was going to make the most of it. For as long as she had. And if that was just for tonight, okay. If it was for longer, well then, even better.

But she knew she couldn't count on anything beyond the moment she was in. Being a policeman's daughter had taught her that. And she had always been one to make the most of what she had.

Patience smiled up into his face. "Shouldn't be a difficult prescription to fill." She moved closer to him until she was in his arms. "Are you sure you won't hurt too much?"

What was too much? He was already aching. Mostly for her. Very slowly he moved his head from side to side, giving Patience her answer. "I'd hurt even more if I went home."

Her smile widened. "You know, for a man who doesn't talk all that much, you do come up with some lovely things to say."

"Must be the company I'm keeping."

She laughed softly, touching his face. How had she gotten here? And how had she managed to resist for so long? "I'll accept that."

Brady bent his head and kissed her. And everything else faded away. The concerns, the pain, and most of all the loneliness that ached so badly it threatened to swallow him up whole and send his soul back to the abyss from where it had come. He had no idea how he had managed to stay away from her for these past two days. Nor could he remember why.

An urgency filled her, making her want to race even as she wanted to savor every tiny moment, absorbing it like a sponge. Even as his mouth slanted over hers, taking her higher and higher into the euphoria that he created for them, she was fumbling with his belt, desperate to undress him. Desperate to make love with him.

She managed to unnotch his gun belt. Heavy, it slid down the length of his legs like a lead weight, thudding to the floor in a semicircle around his feet. She didn't wait for the sound to register before she started to undo the belt on his pants.

Her heart vibrated like a tuning fork as she pushed the b.u.t.ton through its hole and then pulled down the zipper. She bit back a moan of antic.i.p.ation as, his kiss deepening, he ripped away b.u.t.tons on her shirt, yanking away the material.

And then touching her.

Softly, reverently, in complete conflict with the wild, erotic sensations that slammed through her like an ocean of tiny rubber b.a.l.l.s.

She wanted him to take her this second. She grasped his shoulders to anchor herself to him as her knees began to feel as if they were buckling. When he winced in response, guilt filled her.

She pulled back to look at him. "You're sure I'm not hurting you."

Pain was the last thing on his mind. And she was the first.

"Woman, you talk too much." His voice was thick with desire.

The next moment Brady was covering her mouth with his own again, kissing her if his very soul hung in the balance.

And then she couldn't talk, couldn't muster up the concern she'd felt only a second ago, because he was a.s.saulting every square inch of her, both literally and figuratively.

Scrambling for more and more sensations, they discarded the rest of each other's clothing. Within moments, with internal flames urging them on, they were on the floor, wrapped up in one another.

She found she could hardly breathe. Brady had her completely on fire. The first time had been perfect. But it paled in comparison to now. She didn't know where to touch first, what to feel first. Everything was exquisitely delicious. Every vital part of her throbbed, waited for release, wanted him forever. She twisted and turned as he caressed her over and over again. His body was hard and firm and she couldn't get enough of him.

When he finally drove himself into her, their hands locked together, their bodies pressed against one another, she bit down on her lip to keep from crying out.

Together they raced to the final moment. When it came, she did cry out his name. It escaped in an exhausted whisper that echoed in his head long after it had faded from the air.

Rather than experience the letdown that went hand in hand with the vanishing euphoria, Brady discovered that, inexplicably, a sweetness had begun to fill him. He couldn't make heads or tails of it, only knew that it was her doing.

She was some kind of a witch, casting spells over him. Turning his life upside down. Making him want things he had no business wanting. A home, a family. A normal life. None of which he had any firsthand experience with.

Using the remainder of his strength, Brady gathered her against him in his arms. Everything within him felt as if it was smiling. His own mouth curved.

"So," he finally said, "this is your idea of a prescription."

Her body curled against his, Patience feathered her fingertips along his chest. The light sprinkling of hair excited her. She raised her eyes to his, hoping she looked at least a little wicked, because he made her feel very, very wicked. "Uh-huh."

Didn't she know how impossible this was? How could she when he was acting as if it was the most normal thing in the world? As if making love to an angel was an everyday occurrence for him instead of a miracle.

He ran his thumb along her lower lip. Exciting himself. "When can I come by for another refill?"

"Anytime you want."

"Good to know." Brady sucked his breath in sharply as he felt her fingers lightly glide along his inner thigh, then delve farther down. He placed his hand over hers as she cupped him.

Her grin was positively wicked. "Now might be a good time."

Her breath was warm along his chest. One minute he was exhausted; the next, he wanted her again. Patience was teaching him things about himself he'd never known before.

Brady rolled over onto her again. "Sounds good to me."

The agony was overwhelming.

He couldn't make himself leave.

Like a penitent sinner, bent on self-torture, he remained throughout the night, caught in his own private h.e.l.l as he listened to the sounds.

The sounds of their making love.

Anger had long since taken hold of him, sharing a dance with a red-hot jealousy that gave him no peace.

Would give him no peace until he acted.

The first time had been a mistake. But he could find no way to absolve her of the second time. That was just wrong. She'd transgressed.

It was time.

Time to make her realize that she belonged to him and only him, not this sanctimonious jacka.s.s in a uniform.

His fists clenched at his sides.

It was time.

Brady stayed the night. He'd had no intentions of staying, at least, not in her bed, but it seemed as if his intentions made no impression on the plans life had laid down for him. He'd been fooling himself all these years, he thought as he pulled on his jacket, by believing that he was in charge of his own destiny. He wasn't.

Not in the absolute sense.

He knew he could still walk away from Patience, and he still believed, deep in his soul, that it would be for her own good if he did. But he also knew that if he did so, he would be leaving a piece of himself behind. A piece he hadn't even known he'd had until recently.

Leaving her would cost him his heart.

"When can I take King home?" he asked. They were in her kitchen and he'd just turned down her offer to make him breakfast. He shook his head when she held the coffeepot over his cup. He'd already had three cups and, for now, that was his limit.

She set the pot down on her side. Something was in the air. She felt too antsy herself to eat. "I'd like to keep him here for a few more hours, now that he's awake. Just to make sure."

Make sure of what? he wondered. Half-formed thoughts filled his head. "You think he's in any danger?"

"No." Not nearly as much as I am, she added silently. Because Brady had her heart and she was vulnerable now. Just the way she'd always sworn to herself she would never be.

So much for keeping promises made to yourself.

An awkwardness had descended over them. It had been there from the moment they'd stepped into the kitchen. From the moment they'd stepped into the rest of their lives outside of her bedroom. "Well, I guess I'd better report in."

She didn't want him to leave, didn't want last night to end, even though daylight had pushed itself into every corner of her house.

"Can't you take the day off?" She glanced down at the floor, toward where the clinic's back room was one floor away. "After all, your partner's recuperating-and so should you."

He looked at her for a long moment, feeling so many things he didn't want to feel. Things he had no idea how to handle. This simple woman who asked for nothing had turned his whole world upside down and made everything come spilling out. How was he supposed to get it all back together again?

"This is going to take more time than just a day to get over."

She could feel an ominous cloud descending, "You're not talking about your wounds, are you?"